“Tell me how it feels,” he asked, his voice ragged in desperation.

“Hard,” she said immediately. “And like velvet. I am thinking about how it’ll feel when you’re inside me. If you’ll fit, or if you’ll have to push hard into me.”

“Uhn,” Griff said.

“And when you’re buried inside, I’ll wrap my legs around you. Tell me, Griff, how do you plan on having me?”

Every way I can.

He was so, so close, her hand gripping and stroking and sliding up and down, an inexorable rhythm that was propelling him toward his own climax.

He shouted as he came, spilling into her hand, the rush of pleasure coursing through his body, every bit of him focused on how good he felt and that she’d brought him to this.

She didn’t let go, though she did loosen her grip, holding him as his cock jerked in her hand. Only when his shudders had stopped did she release him, and he groaned, dropping his head down as the feeling flowed through him.

“That was good,” she said in a husky voice. “It took my mind off the odor,” she added in an amused tone.

He was impressed she was able to speak. He wasn’t certain he could ever make actual words again.

“Here,” she said, handing him the handkerchief she’d had pressed to her nose. He took it, and cleaned himself up, grateful he’d be returning home before being seen in public again.

They hadn’t been in the cab all that long—just long enough for him to pleasure her and vice versa—and he was surprised when the cab slowed, indicating they were nearing their destination.

Actually, he was surprised he could think at all, but he wouldn’t question it.

“I will meet you at the party? I believe Eleanor said she is going, and she can bring me.”

“Hmph,” Griff replied. Still not able to utter words. Hopefully that would change when he had to make any kind of conversation. Or not; perhaps he could just go through life muttering and grunting. As long as he got to maintain his inarticulation through frequent bouts of sexual passion with her, he would accept the inability to make words.

“Right,” she said, clearly amused.

The cab stopped, and he opened the door, then leapt out to help her get out.

She took his hand, looking up at him with a sly, mischievous gaze. “We’re going to have to resolve our bargain soon. I’m not certain I can wait much longer.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I want your body, Griff. Naked and writhing on mine.”

He groaned, and she chuckled, released his hand, and turned toward the door, throwing one last naughty glance at him.

“Where to, milord?” the cabby asked.

Damn. He hoped he could speak. “Uh—the Duke of Northam’s.” There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?