"Not as much as I love yours. I could suck those scrumptious lips right off of your pretty little face." He grins, then exhales softly as he feels those nibbling teeth on his ear. He fights back the sudden hard-on that tries to overcome him; he's too deliriously tired to drive and get hard at the same time. For now he tries to focus on the road, but Salome splits his attention enough that it's pleasantly distracting.

A shudder tears through him, at her words more than her kisses, though those lips don't exactly hurt. He groans softly, tired, squeezing her good hand. "Only as long as you ask me sweetly," he says, grinning deviously. "Depraved and filthy, I know I am, but I can't help it. You inspire such impossible feelings in me, Salome. A man can't help but stroke that pretty little cunt, even if he happens to be singing lullabies while he does it."

Chuckling, he tilts his head and rests his cheek against the top of all that golden hair. "That's right, there's not. It's just wild to consider it, that's all. So much happening, my Christ." He turns his head to kiss her, kiss her, nose brushing against her hair. "Do you know how hard I'm going to fuck you as soon as I get the chance tomorrow? You're going to wish we smuggled that wheelchair out for you."