"Fuck," he says, the profanity startled out of him by the surprise of her hand against his cock, her fingers teasing him through the denim. It's a victory every time she manages to make him swear; Danny knows, without a doubt, she'll take it as even more of one this time. It doesn't keep him from shifting into the touch.

"Oh, all the way," he says, recovering himself and the thread of the game they're still playing. "And extensively. Putting numbers on it is vulgar, but I've never had a complaint."