The truth could wait. She had given him an idea...
Sex was a serious matter, a grim pleasure, or so he’d always thought. It had never been an occasion for laughter or irreverent conversation—until Djinni accused him of fishy mating habits, and since then he hadn’t taken sex seriously at all.
Lovemaking had never been such fun. Much as he’d longed for her to know and accept the truth about him, he didn’t want this blissful intimacy to end.
The truth could wait. She had given him an idea. A very wicked idea. A perfect excuse for the remaining rut-raged days and nights of debauchery and deception to come.
“I want to do it all,” he breathed. “I want to make love to you according to the ways of every sexually reproducing species in all the Communicating Worlds. Every one. From frogs to Great Djinn. After that, we’ll work up to thrusting Tantric sex.”
“Oh, Stars,” she gasped.
“And I take that as informed consent.”
"Tigger, it might be romantic to . . ." She
closed her eyes in shyness. "Perhaps, we could bathe each oth--"
clothed, not even breaking stride to kick off his high boots, he plunged
into the murk-bath with her.
His Mightiness (caution)
Djinni felt the odds, at four to one, were heavily
against her, but improving. Two things were in her favour. First, her
kidnappers were so over-confident they were likely to be careless.
Second, in their carnival mood it wouldn't occur to them that
a female could be a force to be reckoned with.