His grin tilted, blue eyes glinted. "If you aren't, then I think I'd be offended." He took great pride in pleasing his women, or woman, now. For all that he was a debauched lecher and unapologetic, uncouth brigand, Daemon Storm wasn't, ironically, a whoremonger. He'd witnessed the ruination of a man's unchecked lust more than once, with his own bloody father being the prime example.

No. He'd not sully his name or inflict such an indignity on whatever woman he'd been given as a wife. It wasn't only his pride at stake, after all.

Daemon let his hands slowly coast up and down Sansa's thighs, just feeling her soft skin under his fingertips. "Want more?"