Hyacinthe's breath hissed out between clenched teeth at her touch and it took him a moment to be able to speak again. He didn't know whether to tell her to stop or beg for more.

But he did know when someone was looking for words. He was the Prince of Travelers, words were his stock in trade. "No," he said, with a small shake of his head. "'Tis too mild a word for what I want to do to you. I want to fuck you, Xanthippe, until we're both lying exhausted on your bed, unable to move. I want to move inside you, feel your heat, have your hands on me urging me on and demanding more. I want to thrust into you slowly until you roll me over and ride me because you need it harder. I want my mouth on your nipples and my thumb on your pearl and my phallus buried deep inside you, all at once."

He gave her a cheeky grin. "But do you want only for me to screw you, well, I suppose I can manage that, too."