[ Emery doesn't need to be told twice. He manoeuvres Elle just a little so that she can take her weight by herself, before burying his fingers in the thin silk and parting it easily from itself. The spaghetti straps are thin and flimsy, they pop away with barely a thought, then the negligee splits itself down the middle as he pulls it separate ways. Her body is gorgeous: petite and neat with perfect breasts that he just wants to touch ...

And she said he could have anything, didn't she? Do anything. Be his for the night. ]

Oh ...

[ Her panties are gone in a second, torn away and tossed to the floor, and Emery lets a breathy chuckle leave his lips before pushing his own pants down and off. He's never done that before - never actually torn someone's clothes off. He hopes Elle won't miss the little slip too much.

Now that they're both bare he guides her down and flips them so he's on top; Emery's lips touch her throat, then her clavicle, before progressing down the dip of her torso, until he's settled comfortably with his face between her thighs. His breath is hot against her, thick and damp against her sex, and then he's licking her soft and slow before closing his lips around her clit. ]