She reached for her gunna that lay beside the blanket.
He reached it first and tossed it to the far side of the stall.
Flower buds? Does she mean ... ? “You told me before? Never! I would have recalled that.”
“When you rescued us, I distinctly remember telling you about the marble phalluses and the hennaed flower buds.”
“I must have been dazed with delight over seeing you again.” Or something.
“Are you being sarcastic?”
Who? Me? “Not at all. You must understand ... nay, do not cover yourself. I am not done admiring the artwork.” He drew circles around the outer circles of both areolas with his forefingers.
She smacked his hands away, and he retaliated by pinning both hands to her sides so he could look to his heart’s content, which should be a good long time.
“As I was saying, you must understand that men see things differently than women. We like to look, and while there are so many bits on a woman’s body that are a delight to the male eyes, these”—he waved a hand at her red-tipped breasts—“are like flags waving at a man, saying, ‘Look at me. Touch me. Taste me.’ ”
“That is the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard. Especially about my ridiculous breasts. Anyhow, I thought we decided not to do this anymore.”
What? Look at red nipples? Best he check her meaning. “This?”
“Sex.”
Think quick, Sidroc. “Uh.”
“I am saving myself.”
Oh, good gods! “I have news for you princess, you have nothing to save. You already lost it to me.” I should feel guilty. Do I feel guilty? Not even a little, after what she has taken from me. But I am not going to think about that now.
“I’m not talking about my maidenhead, you lout, and it is not nice of you to remind me of that misstep of mine.”
“Misstep?” he hooted.
“Shhh. You will wake the cows and horses.”
And I should care about that ... why?
“Stop staring at my breasts.”
Are you gone barmy, princess? How could I not look at your breasts? ’Tis like placing a roast boar in front of a starving man. Um, mayhap I won’t share that with her. Reluctantly he raised his eyes to her face. It did no good. He still had the image in his head. “If not your virginity, what is it you are saving? And for whom?”
“I have decided that lovemaking is too special for lust-sex.”
“Lust-sex?” Mayhap I am the one gone barmy.
“Yea, lust-sex, as compared to love-sex.”
Now she is an expert on sex?
“Sex is best saved for a man and woman who care about each other and are either married or about to be married.”
That woman refrain! ’Tis the monks’ fault. We ne’er should have allowed the monks into the Norselands.
“Ianthe and I discussed it and we both came to that conclusion.”
I am going to kill Ianthe. After about a hundred bouts of lovemaking, Ianthe is going to turn into a nun. And turn Drifa along with her. I do not think so!
“Sex without caring is like a bath without soap.”