Changes (The Dresden Files, #12)

by Jim Butcher

I coughed. I waited. “So,” he said. “Mab.” I grunted vaguely in reply. “You hit that,” Sanya said. I did not look at him. My face felt red. “You”—he scrunched up his nose, digging in his memory—“tapped that ass. Presumably, it was phat.” “Sanya!”