"Ass." She doesn't mean it at all, and the way she has to gasp it out is fairly able to give it away.

He kisses her neck and she groans, and he kisses her breasts and she bites her tongue to keep from--she doesn't even know what, because it feels too good, and they're almost aching to be touched, and at least it's not feather-light.

"Shan't let you," she manages as she cradles his head with one hand, because it's playing and always has been, really, because he's her playmate as much as lover and friend as much as husband, and because she's stubborn.

Also, she thinks it would be rather messy.