Sex with August was generally always good, but this way was Emma's absolute favorite. Having him laid out like a feast just for her, all firm muscle and dark hair, as she rode him.
Her thighs gripping his hips she rocked, feeling him sliding in and out of her.
His hands ghosted up her body to grip her breasts, fingers working her nipples to hard points as he bucked his hips up.
She moaned at the thick invading sensation, and lazily looked down at him under lidded eyes.
He waited until she was looking directly into his eyes before giving her a completely wicked look. He moved one hand to his mouth, which he opened and licked his fingers. Licked...his...fucking...fingers.
Emma stifled a gasp and started rocking her hips again with renewed vigor.
She brought her own hand to her neglected breasts as his fingers moved to where they were joined. His rough hands slid easily over her clit, and...Oh God she was so close...
Emma wasn't very vocal in bed, so only the slightest whimper escaped her throat as her head lolled back and her spine curved. It was light enough to be drowned out by another sound...that of groaning wood.
It was less than half a second after she fell over the edge that the door creaked open, and Geppetto's deep Italian accent filled the room.
"Pinocchio, you in here? I heard a noise-"
This time she did shriek in an odd sounding combination of pleasure from the orgasm rolling over her, and mortification as the older man stepped into the room.
Both August and his father, however, seemed to be struck mute by the situation, though luckily not frozen. August quickly sat up, cradling Emma to his chest, and hiding some of her nakedness from view, though the fact that she was still straddling him left little to the imagination.
The old man, eyes as big as saucers, clapped one hand over them and turned from the room. As he pulled the door closed behind him the pair heard him say, "Sorry! I...I didn't see anything."
The door slammed closed, leaving the couple to simply stare at each other in shock for a moment.
Finally, the corner of August's lips turned up and guffaws began escaping his throat. With a miserable groan Emma buried her head on his shoulder, and began laughing as well. Or at least a combination of laughing and sobbing.