“Who knows your body better than me?” he murmured, and set about proving his point. “Not Ares,” he said as he tilted her head back, his hand stroking the center of her throat, moving down over her collarbones and between her breasts, down the deep V split of her jumpsuit. He knew she’d resist, but also knew she’d arch her back toward him when he spread his fingers over her breast. Melpomene let out a long semi-vocal exhale, her hand curled in his shirt near his collar, like she was preparing to stop him... in just a minute. “How many times could he make you come, in a row?” he asked, pressing his other hand between her legs and massaging his palm against her, drawing a muffled whine of lust from deep in her throat.