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“Fuck me, baby.” Thrash’s words were a growl.

This was so damn good. Was I an idiot for willingly walking away from this dream?

No, we had our own ship. Thrash never had to wear pants. I could suck his cock while he steered the ship. He could sit me on the console and eat my pussy while we streaked through space. We had a new dream together, and we’d always have this beach to come home to.

With this man, my mate, life would never be dull.

My motions grew shorter, but the pace increased. I rode Thrash’s beautiful, perfect cock, bending backward slightly and grinding until he hit just right. He sent out a pulse and my core spasmed.

I came before he did, screaming and going rigid with the force of my orgasm.

He grabbed my waist, guiding me up and down as my core throbbed and milked his length. His pants grew heavier. Suddenly, he thrust his hips, slamming his dick into me and he roared his release.

My breathing was ragged as I collapsed over Thrash’s chest.

We lay like that a long while, my cheek pressed to his shoulder, his hands beneath my shirt, trailing light touches over my back. “Promise me we come back to this beach at least once a year.”

“Only if you promise we stay for at least a month,” he said.

“Deal.” The easiest promise I’d ever made. “When do we leave?”

“We depart for our first job next week.”

I hadn’t realized it was so soon. Lifting my head, I blinked up at him, but he stroked my hair and drew my face back down to his chest.

“Get some rest,” he said. “We have a sexual bucket list to fill before we leave. Next up, we make love in the pink sea.”