Abigail was a wicked young thing. She was better suited to house mighty Aphrodite than she realized. A vixen through and through. It surprised even Reed, and not in a good way. It would be all the more complicated with Abigail being a willing participant. What would Lydia think?
Neptune wasn't worried about consequences. He was enjoying her touch far too much. It mattered not who he took to bed. Both goddess and mortal would be able to experience him. He doubted Aphrodite objected, because her hostess was finally surrendering to desire.
But at her questioning, he grinned. "He is a skillful, tender lover. No less passionate than I. But he is lacking in confidence at times. And he is cautious, afraid to grab that which he craves." Reed was a victim of his culture. It kept him chained.
Letting Abigail stroke him, Neptune listened briefly to Reed. There was silence. No objections. The mortal, while conflicted and filled with guilt, enjoyed Abigail's touch. There was talent in her fingers. Reed played piano and worked with his hands, so he appreciated a woman who knew how to use hers. He also liked her boldness. Neptune smiled, his hips rocking slowly with the movement of Abigail's fingers. "He thinks you have the fingers of a piano player. I agree."