"I can smell you," he uttered.
There was a rasping quality to his voice that had not been there at dinner, and Emily knew she had drawn it out of him.
"You've been touching yourself, you filthy little girl. No boy has ever had you because you've been too busy playing all alone. But all that's about to change."
Every word he said struck her hard and left her desperate for more. Emily gasped and reached up, running a hand across the back of his head and drawing him down against her so they could kiss once more. She was greedy for his lips, and he indulged her. But lips weren't the only thing Henry was hungry for. His free hand met the exposed skin of her thigh and began to slide upward. The flat of his palm felt cool against her heated body, and soon Emily could not continue the kiss at all for how the sensation of it made her squirm and twist.
"Henry," she breathed, lightheaded.
The hand continued up until it reached the arch of her panties, and then his fingers followed the seam of the leg downward and inward.
"What is it, little girl?" he asked her, voice gritty and playful.
Emily made desperate little gasps. Henry's broad fingers traced inward and over the fabric covering her crotch. Then they dipped down further, putting just enough pressure so he could trace his finger between the valley of her lips. As the cotton met her sex, Emily could feel how drenched she had become. Slick fluids had soaked into the garment and coated her skin.
At first it had been all her own doing, but she knew Henry had coaxed some of it from her with his words and his kiss. Her body needed him.
"Oh my god," Emily breathed. He hadn't even undressed her yet, and she felt like she would cum.
"Do you feel that, baby?" he asked. "That's what a naughty girl feels like. I'm going to have to punish you."
The fingers pushed a little harder, and the fabric gave way to let them press firmly against her skin. Henry let them trail up, and those same digits ran over her clit. The touch was electric, and throbbing pleasure coursed through her like ripples across a pond. Henry was too good to be real.
"But in order to stop your impure thoughts," he continued, "we're going to have to make sure that you use them all up. If we let them linger in that beautiful mind of yours, they'll only fester and grow. So we'll work them out of your system so they don't get any worse. Tell me — what are you thinking about right now?"
Saying the things she'd been feeling for so long felt wrong in the best of ways. Henry's fingers kept stroking, tracing short trails back and forth over her panties and across her clit. Emily could not escape the pleasure, and she writhed and pressed herself down against him like the slut he was turning her into. A silence bubbled between them, then burst.
