“I would ultimately very much like to use my cock in ways both of us will enjoy. When that joyous occasion happens, it should not be out of commission due to balls being irretrievably blue,” he griped.

I started giggling again.

“Now that really isn’t funny,” he clipped.

I pressed my lips together again, this time to stop laughing.

When I controlled it, I noted, “It’s heartens me to know you’re an exceptionally skilled kisser.”

He looked above my head and complained, “I see my penance for being a massive arsehole is not complete.”

“Aramus,” I called quietly.

He looked down at me.

Or, he scowled down at me.

“I forgive you.”

He instantly stopped scowling, though his face was no less intense, this I caught nary a second of before he started kissing me again.

It became heated very quickly, what with that talented tongue of his, those full, soft, but firm lips, and both our hunger.

He rolled us so he was on his back in the sand and I was on top (and I had the feeling I liked this positioning better, though I’d definitely try the other again, just to be certain) and both his hands dove into my panties.

Oh yes.

Aramus broke contact with our mouths, bent his head and shoved his face in my neck as his fingers dug into my arse.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Darling,” I breathed.

“Baby, this feels good,” he whispered, his hands moving over my arse.

He had that right.

“We have to stop,” he told me thickly.

He was right about that too.

Now that he offered it, I wanted special.

Sirens-dammit.

I kissed his jaw.

He pulled his hands from my panties, sat up so I was straddling him, but wasted no time in wrapping an arm tight around me so he could heft me up even as he got to his feet.

Mine fell to the sand.

He let me go, but took my hand, bent to snatch up the toweling, and turned us back to the camp.

We started walking.

Slowly.

“I’m not sure I’d mind a bit of sand,” I murmured.

“Stop it,” he replied on a squeeze of my hand.

“Truly,” I said.

He looked to the sea. “All my thanks. You sent me a siren, and now I’m lost.”

I smiled at his profile.

Aramus looked forward and ordered, “Stop smiling at me.”

“I can’t. You’re being endearing.”

He continued not to look at me as he noted, “You intend to torture me fully until I can find a suitable time to get you under me, don’t you?”

“I was thinking I’d be astride you.”

This time, his head tipped back, and he begged of the heavens, “Someone kill me.”

I walked closer to him and let my head fall to his shoulder, murmuring, “Not until I get astride you.”