Eyes that had been closed to better visualize the man sleeping across the hall opened to check the time on her digital clock on the bedside table. Just after midnight. What time had she finally gone to bed? Emily couldn't remember.
With a sigh she turned her head to settle back onto her pillow, finger still lazily swirling against her clit, when she saw it. Sometime during the night her bedroom door had opened, and in the darkened door frame stood a figure. It was hard to make out details against the dark, but Emily knew who it was by instinct alone. A pulse of pleasure ran through her, and the finger that had been working her clit over stilled and then withdrew from inside of her panties. How long had Henry been watching her?
"Why don't you come in and close the door?" she asked in a whisper.
Every inch of her felt alive and invigorated; awoken from her ceaseless teasing and Henry's earlier flirtation. If he stepped through that doorway, Emily knew that there would be no going back. The invitation had been issued, and now it was up to Henry to give in to temptation and accept it.
There was a long pause, and then the shadow in the doorway moved. It entered the room hesitantly, and then pushed the door closed until it latched in the doorframe with a gentle click. Emily heard the lock turn, and knew that Henry had made his choice.
The form crossed her bedroom floor until he stood at her bedside. This close, Emily could make out his features. A lean body with strong shoulders; the gorgeous cut of his face; more blocky in the darkness, but even more handsome for it. What she saw wasn't enough — Emily craved to explore more of him.
How would his mature cock feel when it filled her? How would it feel to lose her virginity to an older man?
"You really have changed since the last time I saw you." The voice broke through the darkness, distinct despite its hushed tone. "You're not the shy little girl you used to be."
"No," Emily whispered back. "I'm not a girl anymore. I know what I want, and who I want... And tonight, I want you."
The bed groaned as one of Henry's knees met the mattress. Emily's heart jumped into her throat. Was this really happening? She was having a hard time believing that the man she'd thought such dirty things about reciprocated her feelings.
"Is it true what your father said at dinner?" Henry asked.
The second knee met the mattress, and he crawled across the bed to straddle her. Him atop the covers with his knees on either side of her thighs, Emily beneath the covers trying to recover her breath, the darkness provided them with an anonymous shroud that made the upcoming union even hotter.
This was her father's house, and Henry was her father's friend — and here he was, preparing to ravage his best friend’s virgin daughter, despite the fact that Emma, as she was often called, was 24.
