Hyacinthe wanted to push that inside of her, to thrust so far in that his hips hurt with the strain. But not as much as he wanted to hear her moan and sigh and cry out.

That those others didn't offer the same consideration was terrible. Garbage indeed.

"I'll give it to you," he promised in a whisper, his hand tracing circles over her hips, her thighs, her lower belly. Everywhere but there, ramping up the desire. "But first, I want you to she needed it."

And only then did his hand dip between her folds, tracing over their soft lines before circling around her pearl of Naamah.