by Dixon, Ruby
I’m suddenly glad for the basket fort. Every freckle on my skin seems to glow in the firelight, and my body prickles in response, goosebumps rising on my arms. I don’t know what to do with myself—cover my boobs? Cross my legs? Preen and show off for him? This is all still new to me, though, so I do what feels natural…I reach for him.
He snags my hand before I can touch him, and pulls my palm to his mouth, then gently rubs his mouth against it. His teeth brush against my skin, but it’s still the tenderest of gestures and I love it. He licks my palm, making me squirm, and then pulls me into his arms. My breasts brush against his chest fur and I bite back a moan.
Gren watches my face intently, and then leans in and nuzzles at the side of my neck. More goosebumps skitter up and down my arms, and my breasts tighten in response. I’m panting as he licks at my neck, teasing my tender skin. It’s like I feel every brush of his tongue deep between my thighs, and I’m clenching reflexively every time he touches me.
“Gren,” I moan when he caresses my throat, and then his hand skims lower, to my breast.
I know I should be quieter, considering we're not in the cave alone, but when he cups my breast, I can't help myself. I whimper, pushing against his big hand. His touch feels so good that it makes me forget everything but the heat of his big body next to mine and the endless humming of our cooties. I'm half-straddling him in the furs, my thighs slung over his lap as he caresses my breast, and I can feel the enormous, hard heat of his cock pushing against the side of my leg. Where he was ravenous last night, it seems that today he's slowing things down, taking a more thoughtful approach. The expression on his face is that of utter concentration as he touches my breast, and it's like he's focused all that he is into learning my body.
That thought makes me so aroused that I can hardly stand it.
"Oh," I breathe when he looks up at me and grazes my nipple with his thumb. His gaze locks onto mine, and as he begins to toy with it, he leans in and nips at my lower lip in one of our playful almost-kisses. It sends a pulse of need straight through me and I forget all about being quiet. I moan against him, welcoming his tongue as it slicks into my mouth, even as he teases my breast into an aching point.
He murmurs something low under his breath, and then inhales deeply, closing his eyes. I wonder what it is he smells. He breaks our wild kiss, rubs his nose against mine, and then lowers me gently onto the furs.
Oh. I can't help but tremble with anticipation, lying back and watching him as he looms over me like some sort of dark god. He's gorgeous. I don't care that his face isn't entirely human or his teeth are strange. His eyes are shining with intelligence and pleasure, and he's my Gren. I love his big, furry body and his strong shoulders and careful, oversized hands. I love all of him. "You're perfect to me," I whisper as he regards my body, watching me reverently as if I'm some work of art spread underneath his hands.
He caresses my breast again, and when I arch and reach for him, he lowers his head and hesitantly flicks his tongue against my freckled skin, then glances up to see my reaction.
Ooooh. Is it possible for me to get more aroused than I already am? I arch up against the blankets, nodding at him. "Yes, that's good. You can do that. Actually, please, please do that." I decide to avoid being delicate and show him how much I want that. I tangle my fingers in his thick, black mane, and drag his head down to my breast to indicate just how badly I want more.
The rumble of his laughter sends even more pleasure through me, and I'm smiling myself. Then, he leans down and rubs his face in the valley of my breasts, and I forget all about laughing. I moan again, clinging to him, because he feels so strange and yet so damn good. He nuzzles his way across the mound of one breast and then grazes over my nipple.
I nearly come out of my skin, crying out. My fingers tighten in his hair and I'm panting again. "Yes. More."
His growl takes on a sexy, feral edge and then he runs his tongue along my nipple, circling it before latching on and tugging with lips and mouth. I cry out all over again, lost in sensation. Is it possible to feel this much pleasure just from a touch? God, I love it.
Over and over, he teases my breast, alternating between little nips of skin and rubbing his mouth against me, then more licking and sucking. I can't predict what he's going to do, and it makes me crazy. I'm barely conscious of how loud I'm panting, or how much I'm pleading his name, my heels digging into the furs as I writhe underneath him. All I know is that this is the best, most delicious torture and I both want it to end and I want it to go on forever.
"Gren," I moan. "Gren. Gren. Gren."
He hisses as he lifts my head, but I don't panic. His hisses are just another way he communicates, and I know they don't mean he's angry. I reach for him, wanting to touch him like he touches me. My hands move from his hair down to his shoulders, and then I try to find his nipples in his dense chest hair.
Gren catches my hands and sits up, pulling them to his mouth and pressing a kiss to my grabby palms before pushing them back down to the blanket and over my head. His response is clear—no touching, not right now. I remember how many times it took for him to gain even a smidgen of control last night and nod, breathless. Part of me wants to see him lose control, but a greedy, needy part of me wants to see where he's going with this. So I obediently cross my wrists over my head and gaze down at him, nodding.
He groans, his big hands sliding to both of my breasts, and he plays with them, caressing both nipples until they're stiff peaks. Then, he tenderly leans in and licks the spot over my heart, where my cootie is singing the loudest. "Willa," he murmurs, and I don't know if that's the sweetest thing I've ever seen, but it might be up there.
Then, he moves lower, flicking his tongue down my belly, and I forget all about sweetness.
I make little needy cries as he goes down my torso at an excruciatingly slow pace. My entire body shivers with need, and I’m so damn wet and achy between my thighs that I feel as if I’ll splinter if he touches me there. But, oh god, I need him to touch me there. I need it so badly I could scream.
He pauses over my belly button and lifts his head. He stares down at it so hard, his dark brow furrowed, that it’s almost comical. It reminds me that he doesn’t have one, and I want to ask about it, but we still don’t have the words. Just like I don’t have the words for “Fuck me now” and “Go down on me” and “Hurry and put your mouth there.”
This language barrier is a real pain in my ass.
But then he flicks his tongue over it and is moving lower again, and I moan with anticipation. My thighs feel tight and yet my blood seems to be throbbing as if centered entirely in that region. As he migrates downward, I let my thighs slide apart, and the breath catches in my throat when he hooks one big hand around one leg and pushes it apart from the other. He moves lower, and as he does, he spreads my legs, his big hand on one knee, and then gazes at my soaked, needy pussy that’s bared before his hungry eyes.
He just stares at me for so long, inches away from my aching flesh, and doesn’t move. I start to worry that something’s wrong, that I look completely different from females of his kind, or maybe he doesn’t like what he’s seeing…all kinds of anxious thoughts start to pop up in my head. I watch him intently, holding my breath, and when Gren inhales, it’s no more than a delicate flare of his nostrils.
Then, he groans deep and plunges his mouth between my thighs.
I choke as he does, utterly startled, and then I’m gasping for air as he begins to ravenously work my pussy with his tongue. Did I think all the urgency worked its way out of him last night? Clearly I was wrong, because it’s back, and the new focus is between my thighs. Big teeth scrape delicately over my folds, framing the seeking, licking, teasing tongue that seems to be everywhere at once. Gren’s utterly careful with me, his mouth moving all over as if he can’t get enough of how wet I am. It’s like he wants to lick every fold of skin, delve into every crevice, and taste me all over. He’s forgotten how to take his time, too. There’s a hungry need mov
ing through him as he devours my pussy, and the groans he’s making tell me that he finds the taste of it incredible.
And god, it feels good. I’m squirming under the ministrations of his mouth, and it takes everything I have to keep my hands pinned over my head and in place, just like he wanted them. His big hands are locked around my spread thighs, holding me against his mouth as he works me over, and I can’t seem to stop quivering. The sound of my cootie is like an impossibly loud drone in my ears, and I’m resonating so fiercely that it’s adding another layer of pleasure to what already exists. There’s a low, insistent vibration that adds to every touch and gives it a bit of added oomph.
It’s as if Gren remembers to pace himself. He slows down, drags his tongue over my slick flesh, murmuring my name, and gives me a sultry look as he glances up. “Willa.”
“I’m here,” I manage, though I feel like I’m falling apart, piece by piece.
He leans down and presses a hot, hungry kiss to my pussy, his gaze still locked on mine, and I swear I feel that in my soul. I shudder with the intensity of it. I don’t think I’ll be able to take much more.
Even as he watches me, I see his tongue flick out, and then it strokes ever so lightly over my clit.
Everything in me explodes. The cry I make reverberates through the cave, but I don’t care if Ashtar or everyone on the beach hears me. Nothing has ever felt so damn good.
I give one incoherent cry after another as he continues to work my clit, licking and sucking and dragging that amazing tongue over it. I'm so sensitized that even the slightest touch feels as if it's making me come, and as he works my pussy, it feels like I'm just climaxing over and over again in the world's longest orgasm. My pussy floods with wetness and he growls, pleased, lapping it up as if I've just rewarded him for his efforts.
When I can no longer stand my legs clenching with every stroke of his tongue and I'm so sensitive I feel as if I'll crawl out of my own skin if he touches my clit again, I pant his name and push his head away. He nips at the inside of my thigh and my muscles twitch in response. "Willa," he murmurs, and there's such a look of fierce possessiveness that my entire body prickles with heat at the sight. I love how he watches me, like I'm the best thing he's ever seen and he'll destroy anyone who dares to breathe my air.
"I'm here," I manage again, and then I cling to him as he moves over me, his big body pressing against mine. I love the tickle of his chest fur as his flesh rubs against mine, love the hard length of him as he thrusts into my aching heat. I grab two fistfuls of his fur and hold on as he begins to pound into me, all of his patience vanishing the moment he sinks into my body. I love the snarls he makes against my throat. I don't know if they're more of his strange language or just him losing control, but I love all of it, and I dig my heels into his backside as he thrusts wildly into me. He comes with a savage cry after a few moments, and another pleasurable quiver—like the world's most languid orgasm—adds to my already overloaded senses.
I lie under him on the ground, like a big dopey human-sized ball of mush, smiling up at the rocky ceiling.
If this is what resonance is, no wonder Harlow and Liz (and Veronica) seem so happy to be on this planet. I wrap my arms around Gren's sweaty neck, holding him close as he catches his breath. I'm happy to be here, too. It's different, it's cold, and it's not easy, but…I love being with Gren.
I feel like the luckiest woman alive right now.
"Willa," Gren murmurs, nuzzling at my neck, and I sigh happily.
Heck, I know I'm the luckiest woman alive.
19
WILLA
I must have missed some of the details about resonance. Silly me, I thought it meant that we'd screw like bunnies a few times, he'd knock me up, and then we'd just be a happy couple moving on to our happy ever after and a life of blissful happiness on the snowiest planet in the galaxy. I didn't think that the whole resonance thing might take more than a few rounds.
That is not the case.
We make love constantly. Sometimes fast, sometimes achingly slow to the point that I come at least three or four times before Gren does. He's fascinated with giving me pleasure, and I'm all too happy to receive. We make love a dozen times in one day, barely pausing to eat or drink before falling on each other again.
And we do the same thing the next day.
And the day after.
Veronica and Ashtar leave at some point, heading back toward the others who are still on the beach. Gren and I head back to bed, though nothing really changes now that we're alone again. We make love, sleep, make love again, sleep some more, eat, make love, and on and on it goes.
My cootie doesn't stop in its incessant thrumming. If anything, it's getting louder. Gren's, too. It's a little odd to me because I really thought that things would slow down after a few days.
I'm not complaining, of course—the sex is amazing. Gren is beyond wonderful and I love touching him. I love exploring his body—strange but familiar, unique and tempting—and watching his reaction. I love it when he touches me, learning what makes me respond, and I love how even his scent seems to make me full of lust.
But I would like to wake up at least one day and not feel as if I'm going to die if he doesn't bone me right away.
We run low on supplies after a few more days of endless lovemaking. Through a half-panted discussion, Gren and I talk about hunting, but he tells me in our few words that it would be difficult for him and gestures at his seemingly constantly erect cock.
Which, of course, makes me climb onto him like a rabid wolverine. Once we're done with each other again, though, I realize he's right. I don't know that I'd be able to do much myself. My thighs seem to be constantly quivering with need and just the thought of leaving our bed makes me feel hollow and achy.
I wish Veronica had stuck around for a few more days—and that I hadn't been too busy in the furs to talk to her for longer than a few moments. I want to know if she and Ashtar went through this. If everyone's experience with resonance is as intense as ours is.
I don't mind the intense. I just wonder how long it's going to continue. Surely it'll slow down before we completely run out of food?
But my need for him—and his for me—doesn't seem to be pacing itself. And as another day passes and our lovemaking becomes more fevered and frantic, I start to wonder if this is a problem.
I worry this is going to affect Gren negatively. He still needs to rest after his sickness, but every time we look at each other, the wild ache starts, and then we're just hands and mouths everywhere. It's amazing. It's also a little tiring.
I feel like someone complaining about having an all-you-can-eat ice cream buffet, though. How can I possibly worry over being so attracted to someone so good at sex?
Because lord have mercy, is Gren good at sex. He gives me toe-curling orgasms every time I turn around. We sleep tucked against each other, exhausted, only to rouse when one partner starts kissing the other. Then, the cycle starts all over again.
I can't count how many times we've made love in the last handful of days.
It just…seems to keep on going.
Gren sleeps, worn out, and I wrap a blanket around my body to poke at the coals of the fire. We're dangerously low on fuel, but with Gren to keep me warm, I guess we don't need it. Still, I'm trying to keep it going because I don't know how to make my own fire just yet. Better to keep the one I've got. We need to go out and gather more of the shit-cakes that act as fuel, but just the effort of leaving the cave and slogging through the snow makes me tired. I'm exhausted from a week straight of nothing but sex. Boneless and delicious, yes, but also exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for an entire day, but I know that won't happen. The itching, crazy need will come upon us again and we'll be on each other like bunnies before a few hours pass, desperate for more. My cootie purrs loudly in my chest, as if agreeing with me, insatiable thing that it is.
Yawning, I straighten, smacking my lips. My waterskin is completely empty and I slip on my boots, heading toward
the front of the cave in blanket and boots to get some more snow to melt. Hydration is important in marathon screwing, after all. The thought both amuses me and makes me tired as I drag myself toward the front of the cave, yawning the entire length of the winding tunnel.
The cold wind whips into my face before I see sunlight, and before I see that Hassen, the big galoot, is at the front entrance. He's butchering what looks like a long, twiggy-limbed pony and glances over at me as if it's no big deal. "Ho."
I touch a hand to my hair, inwardly wincing. It's nothing but a curly nest of bedhead and snarls from being constantly rubbed against the furs as Gren drives into me. Just thinking about that makes me all hot, though, and I hug my blanket closer to my chest, frowning at him and already missing my big furry mate. "What are you doing here?"
"You need fresh meat," he tells me. "How is your fire? Do you need a coal?"
"Um, no, we're okay for now, I guess. We could use some fuel, but I'll get it later." I hitch the blanket tighter, realizing I almost asked him for help. I don't want to—I don't want to give him a reason to stay. He's nice to me, but I remember how he treated Gren.
He grunts. "Resonance still rides both of you hard. I can smell it on the breeze. Makes me think of my Mah-dee." He looks up, grinning. "Fresh meat for now, and I will bring you both some fuel so you don't have to leave your cave until it is fulfilled."
"We don't need the help, but thanks. You can go home now."
Hassen ignores me, hacking at one leg of the kill. "Would that I could. My Masan is probably giving Mah-dee trouble. I will go home and she will have no mane left on her head, having pulled it all out at our son's high spirits."
"Why don't you go home, then, if you miss them so much?" I know he does. Every time he speaks, he talks about either his wife or his kid, which makes it hard to hate him. I also hate that I'm looking forward to fresh-roasted meat after a week of eating nothing but chewy, greasy trail mix. I don't want to be indebted to him, though. It'll make detangling ourselves from the tribe that much harder.
