A long, luxurious pause unfurled between them like silk across bare skin, before Eira bust out laughing.
"That was the most gloriously ridiculous monologue I have ever, in the entirety of my ancient continuity, been forced to endure."
"And yet," Phei purred, "devastatingly true."
"You're seventeen."
"Seventeen," he replied with a wicked predatory grin, "with the ferocious libidinal hunger of a man whose ancestors spent centuries compounding the most inappropriate desires. The Cosmic Dragon supplies the merciless stamina. The seventeen-year-old supplies the ravenous cock-throbbingenthusiasm. The combination is precisely why the world is currently drowning in this delicious little private crisis."
"Master."
She let the vocative drip with exquisite exasperation.
"And as a charming side benefit," he added, settling back against the pillows like a depraved king upon his throne, "I get to make Harold and Danny my stepsons."
A long, icy silence stretched with Eira defeated for word.
