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Rosy-hued waves lappedat the sandy white beach. An ombre of pink rippled toward the horizon, as far as the eye could see. In all my years of terraforming, I’d never seen anything as breathtaking as this.

Except for Thrash.

He and I talked about sex in the sea, but turned out the pink hue was created by an intelligent amoeba that loved nothing more than to rub up against a warm body. Locals insisted they were harmless, and could, in fact, heighten anything you feel in the water—tangible or emotional.

While Thrash was more than willing to literally dive into that experience, I was still too freaked out to check that adventure off the sexual bucket list.

I leaned my forehead against the bedroom’s glass wall. My shirt rose above my bare ass, and I tugged the hem. While I only wore a shirt, that was still was one layer more than my hedonistic mate wore these days.

Every day I woke up to this view. It was everything I dreamed, but also a little less. I hadn’t expected to miss the life we’d left behind, but I did. I missed the danger, but also the sense of accomplishment, the sense of purpose.

In the reflective glass, I watched Thrash enter the room behind me, dick out and a daiquiri in each hand. I was totally fine with his penchant for nudity, but it was probably a good thing we didn’t have a neighbor for miles. I had saved a large enough nest egg to retire to the beach of my choice. Thrash had enough credits to buy that beach.

Turned out, while I had counted terraforming as one of the top five most dangerous jobs someone working directly for UFIS could hold, Thrash had worked for number one, and been paid accordingly.

Following the cave-in, we’d had two days to learn all about one another—our pasts, our dreams, our desires. Once the team safely dug their way to us, Thrash and I spent another seven months getting KR-732 back on track and then we’d gone planet-hopping, until we foundthe one.

Our gazes met in the reflection. Some days I wondered what would have happened if the raiders had never come. As it always did, my heart pinched at the thought of flying off into space without Thrash. He swore he would have followed me to the ends of the universe but thank the stars it hadn’t come to that.

When he moved behind me, his cock, already semi-rigid, nudged my backside. He reached around me, holding a fancy glass filled to the brim with equal parts delicious frozen starfruit and sharp, tart, fildacane rum.

After a deep drink that skated perilously close to brain freeze, I set my glass on the table and turned in Thrash’s embrace. I wound my arms around his waist and nipped his earlobe.

His cock twitched against my hip.

“Put down your drink before you spill it,” I told him, and he did.

Smiling, I pushed him backward, toward the bed. The back of his thighs made contact and he fell onto the mattress.

I hiked up my shirt and straddled his hips. While Thrash rarely wore clothes, I rarely wore underwear. No surprise, I was already wet, and I rubbed myself against his quickly thickening cock.

“How many more days do we have?” I reached beneath me and took hold of him.

His hips bucked and eyelids fluttered. “Tori, why the fuck do you ask me questions while you’re holding my dick?”

I moved my hand to hold his shaft at the base. It wouldn’t be long before he was fully erect, and I’d ride him like a champion racehorse. A lot—a lot—of practice taught me this was Thrash’s favorite position. Might as well start the day off doing something nice for my man.

“If we are walking back into that life, we need to be at the top of our game,” I teased.

I hadn’t wanted to go back to terraforming, but I needed to do something. Thrash didn’t want to be under UFIS’ thumb, so we compromised and decided to enter the freelance game.

He groaned. “I promise to never be fucking you during a laser fight.”

Working my hand up the velvety-soft flesh, I held his cock against me and rubbed the head in circles around my opening, already wet with my arousal. “I don’t know, that could be hot.”

Dick hardening enough to push inside me, his hands flexed on my hips. With a grunt, he impaled me on his rigid-enough length.

“Mate,” he ground out the word.

I reached behind me to gently massage his balls. He hissed and his hips jerked in reaction to my touch.

Inside of me, he grew thick and strong. “You know how I like it,” Thrash said, voice strained. His eyes, looking like twin flames with his risingoreha, were glued to where his dick pushed into my pussy.

“Faster?” I rose and sank down hard, gasping at the feel of him hitting me deep inside. I did that again, and again. “Like that?”

“Mmhmm.” He rotated his hands to the front of my hips, pulling my folds apart with one hand so he could watch, and rub my clit with his other.

Electricity shot straight to my core. I gasped. My rhythm faltered.