Page 78 of Theirs to Crave

“I very much want you. Zaf and Revik want you.” I lifted her hand—which was limp as she stared at me, wide eyed—and placed it on my thigh, my purr getting louder when her fingers flexed.

“But, your heart is hurt,” I murmured, touching her chest where I could feel its pounding. “We can wait. It is an honor to know you, Little Star. I would not disrespect you for want of your body.” I blew out a breath at myself. Such poetic sentiments were not helpful in making her understand.

“Heart-hurt.” I simplified, with a gentle press against her chest. Then I lifted her hand from my leg and set it back in her lap. “Not now.”

I could see the thoughts racing through her eyes—once so strange, but now just hers. Estrayuh’s eyes. Beautiful.

“Okay. Now, heart-hurt. No.” Each word was distinct, as if she was discovering them as she spoke. She looked up at me through her lashes, shyly, and made a rolling gesture with her hand. “Later, no heart-hurt. Yes?”

I leaned close, pressing our foreheads together. She smelled so good, hope and desire replacing the shame and sorrow. The thrumming in my chest was so loud I barely heard my reply.

“Yes, Estrayuh.Yes.”

Chapter 23

Estrella

“No—yes. Good. Over now. Under. Under. Good!”

Litha’s words whispered against my ear, making my nipples tighten. Is it later enough, yet? It’d been—what? Half an hour? A freakinglifetimewhen it was filled with long touches and sexily cooed praise.

Apparently, this afternoon’s activity was Basket Weaving 101. Litha had showed me the basics, then arranged herself behind me, guiding me as I tried. It was like that scene from Ghost, but instead of Patrick Swayze, I had an eight-foot-tall fuzzy purple alien with a tail and killer eyes.

If I hadn’t released some steam earlier, I would have self-combusted and ruined our fledgling understanding by humping her.

Upset as I’d been, as soon as I realized I was alone for the first time since my abduction, I couldn’t keep my hand from reaching beneath my skirt. I’d come fast and hard, but I’d still ached with dissatisfaction. The looming threat of someone coming in and seeing what I was doing—plus some sensitivity because I’d gonepretty hard without a break or lube—left me dizzy in the wake of my second orgasm.

As soon as the pleasure started to fade, though, the emotions rolled back over me, and I’d shut down.

Now—not an hour since our “let’s not do anything we’ll regret, there’s no rush” conversation—the tension was spooling up in my center once more, making me hypersensitive and tingly.

“Good, Lelesha, yes.” Litha guided my hand, tugging the reed I was weaving into place so it curved, shaping the top of my basket.

Ayyyy, mami. I wasn’t going to be able to move from this spot, or everybody was going to see my slut puddle.

Now that I’d agreed to slow down, let myself deal with the bullshit trauma of being abducted by pinchealiens, the brat in me was going wild. I might need and appreciate the care my three were showing me, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

I bit my cheeks, glad Litha couldn’t see my undoubtedly red face as I cackled internally. Somehow, my lucky ass had stumbled into a Mommy and not one, buttwoDaddies!

Thinking of this enforced celibacy period as part of a kink dynamic made it weirdly easier to deal with. Not that I wouldn’t still fuck with them, of course. My pride wouldn’t let me sit quietly while they nobly sacrificed themselves for my benefit. Especially since the only onenotgetting laid in this scenario wasme.

Maybe next time I rubbed one out, I’d wait until we were all in there together.

I sat back, looking at my masterpiece of a basket. It was lopsided, had several weird bumps and holes, and overall looked like it had been run over by a truck.

“It’s good.” Litha actually sounded serious.

I snorted.

Her chest shook with laughter as she reached forward and scooped the basket up.

Ugly as it was, there was a little glow of warmth in my chest as I watched her set it proudly on the top shelf in the kitchen area.

We were putting away the remaining basket making supplies in the bedroom when I reallylookedat the walls. I’d seen them before, enough to notice that they were woven and complex, but I hadn’t really inspected them.

My shock must have been deeper than I thought, because they were worth a second, and even a third glance. Each panel was unique and richly complex. Fingers of the living tree were woven around bundled grasses, rope in a rainbow of warm shades, reeds, and other things I couldn’t identify. They weren’t just walls, they were art.

Wonderingly, I ran my fingers across one, following a curving line of purple grass twisted into a coil. The other homes I’d seen hadn’t been this elaborate. Kurz’s place was almost Nordic in its simplicity. Some of the treehouses in the village were more decorated, but not likethis.

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