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Emma didn't try to stop him. Roughly he pulled the silk top down her arms and off of her. Her breath came in fast, agitated rasps. He pulled Emma's pajama bottoms off just as swiftly, and his own boxer shorts, goaded by the perfume of her arousal, and by the urgency of her soft hands on his body.
She wrapped herself around him as he mounted her, as he pushed into her, into the tight, slick depths of her. She gasped, and clung to him, and he groaned deep in his chest, overcome by the sharp, biting pleasure that rocketed through him.
Emma arched against him, bringing them even closer together. The bedcovers were tangled around them; automatically he kicked them away.
She moved like a wild thing beneath him, locked into an age-old rhythm, uttering guttural, uninhibited sounds that pushed him right to the edge. She curled a leg around his thigh as if to lever herself over him.
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