by E. L. James
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” he castigates me.
“The subject never came up. I’m not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other.” I’m staring at my hands. Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad? I peek up at him.
“Well, you know a lot more about me now,” he snaps, his mouth presses into a hard line. “I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!” He says it like it’s a really dirty word. “Hell, Ana, I just showed you …” he groans. “May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?”
“Of course I have.” I try my best to look affronted. Okay … maybe twice.
“And a nice young man hasn’t swept you off your feet? I just don’t understand. You’re twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You’re beautiful.” He runs his hand through his hair again.
Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Christian Grey thinks I’m beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. Perhaps he’s farsighted. My subconscious has reared her somnambulant head. Where was she when I needed her?
“And you’re seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience.” His brows knit together. “How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please.”
I shrug.
“No one’s really, you know …” Come up to scratch, only you. And you turn out to be some kind of monster. “Why are you so angry with me?” I whisper.
“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with myself. I just assumed …” He sighs. He regards me shrewdly and then shakes his head. “Do you want to go?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“No, unless you want me to go,” I murmur. Oh no … I don’t want to leave.
“Of course not. I like having you here.” He frowns as he says this and then glances at his watch. “It’s late.” And he turns to look at me. “You’re biting your lip.” His voice is husky, and he’s eyeing me speculatively.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s just that I want to bite it, too, hard.”
I gasp … how can he say things like that to me and not expect me to be affected.
“Come,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“We’re going to rectify the situation right now.”
“What do you mean? What situation?”
“Your situation. Ana, I’m going to make love to you, now.”
“Oh.” The floor has fallen away. I’m a situation. I’m holding my breath.
“That’s if you want to, I mean, I don’t want to push my luck.”
“I thought you didn’t make love. I thought you fucked hard.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.
“I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we’ll see. I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me. I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea what you’re getting yourself into. We can start your training tonight—with the basics. This doesn’t mean I’ve come over all hearts and flowers; it’s a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do, too.” His gaze is intense.
I flush … oh my … wishes do come true.
“But I haven’t done all the things you require from your list of rules.” My voice is all breathy, hesitant.
“Forget about the rules. Forget about all those details for tonight. I want you. I’ve wanted you since you fell into my office, and I know you want me. You wouldn’t be sitting here calmly discussing punishment and hard limits if you didn’t. Please, Ana, spend the night with me.” He holds his hand out to me, his eyes are bright, fervent … excited, and I put my hand in his. He pulls me up and into his arms so I can feel the length of his body against mine, this swift action taking me by surprise. He runs his fingers around the nape of my neck, winds my ponytail around his wrist, and gently pulls so I’m forced to look up at him. He gazes down at me.
“You are one brave young woman,” he whispers. “I am in awe of you.”
His words are like some kind of incendiary device; my blood flames. He leans down and kisses my lips gently, and he sucks at my lower lip.
“I want to bite this lip,” he murmurs against my mouth, and carefully he tugs at it with his teeth. I moan, and he smiles.
“Please, Ana, let me make love to you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, because that’s why I’m here. His smile is triumphant as he releases me and takes my hand and leads me through the apartment.
His bedroom is vast. The ceiling-height windows look out on lit-up Seattle high-rises. The walls are white, and the furnishings are pale blue. The enormous bed is ultramodern, made of rough, gray wood like driftwood, four posts but no canopy. On the wall above it is a stunning painting of the sea.
I am quaking like a leaf. This is it. Finally, after all this time, I’m going to do it, with none other than Christian Grey. My breath is shallow, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He removes his watch and places it on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and removes his jacket, placing it on a chair. He’s dressed in his white linen shirt and jeans. He is heart-stoppingly beautiful. His dark copper hair is a mess, his shirt hanging out—his gray eyes bold and dazzling. He steps out of his Converse shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually. Christian Grey’s feet … wow … what is it about naked feet? Turning, he gazes at me, his expression soft.
“I assume you’re not on the pill.”
What? Shit.
“I didn’t think so.” He opens the top drawer of the chest and removes a packet of condoms. He gazes at me intently.
“Be prepared,” he murmurs. “Do you want the blinds drawn?”
“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “I thought you didn’t let anyone sleep in your bed.”
“Who says we’re going to sleep?” he murmurs.
“Oh.” Holy hell.
He strolls slowly toward me. Confident, sexy, eyes blazing, and my heart begins to pound. My blood’s pumping through my body. Desire, thick and hot, pools in my belly. He stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes. He’s so freaking hot.
“Let’s get this jacket off, shall we?” he says softly, and takes hold of the lapels and gently slides my jacket off my shoulders. He places it on the chair.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you, Ana Steele?” he whispers. My breath hitches. I cannot take my eyes off his. He reaches up and gently runs his fingers down my cheek to my chin.
“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” he adds, caressing my chin.
The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion. The pain is so sweet and sharp I want to close my eyes, but I’m hypnotized by his eyes staring fervently into mine. Leaning down, he kisses me. His lips are demanding, firm and slow, molding mine. He starts unbuttoning my shirt while he places feather-like kisses across my jaw, my chin, and the corners of my mouth. Slowly he peels it off me and lets it fall to the floor. He stands back and gazes at me. I’m in the pale blue lacy perfect-fit bra. Thank heavens.
“Oh, Ana,” he breathes. “You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss every single inch of it.”
I flush. Oh my … Why did he say he couldn’t make love? I will do anything he wants. He grasps my hair tie, pulls it free, and gasps as my hair cascades down around my shoulders.
“I like brunettes,” he murmurs, and both of his hands are in my hair, grasping each side of my head. His kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips coaxing mine. I moan, and my tongue tentatively meets his. He puts his arms around me and hauls me against his body, squeezing me tightly. One hand remains in my hair, the other travels down my spine to my waist and down to my behind. His hand flexes over my backside and squeezes gently. He holds me against his hips, and I feel his erection, which he languidly pushes into me.
I moan once more into his mouth. I can hardly contain the rioto
us feelings—or are they hormones?—that rampage through my body. I want him so badly. Gripping his upper arms, I feel his biceps. He’s surprisingly strong … muscular. Tentatively, I move my hands up to his face and into his hair. It’s so soft, unruly. I tug gently, and he groans. He eases me toward the bed, until I feel it behind my knees. I think he’s going to push me down on to it, but he doesn’t. Releasing me, he suddenly drops to his knees. He grabs my hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around my navel, then gently nips his way to my hipbone, then across my belly to my other hipbone.
“Ah,” I groan.
Seeing him on his knees in front of me, feeling his mouth on me, it’s so unexpected, and hot. My hands stay in his hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too-loud breathing. He gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching smoky gray. His hands reach up and undo the button on my jeans, and he leisurely pulls down the zipper. Without taking his eyes off mine, his hands move beneath the waistband, skimming me and moving to my behind. His hands glide slowly down my backside to my thighs, removing my jeans as they go. I cannot look away. He stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. He leans forward, running his nose up the apex between my thighs. I feel him. There.
“You smell so good,” he murmurs, and closes his eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse. He reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall on to the mattress.
Still kneeling, he grasps my foot and undoes my Converse, pulling off my shoe and sock. I raise myself up on my elbows to see what he’s doing. I’m panting … wanting. He lifts my foot by the heel and runs his thumbnail up my instep. It’s almost painful, but I feel the movement echoed in my groin. I gasp. Not taking his eyes off mine, again he runs his tongue along my instep and then his teeth. Shit. I groan … how can I feel this there? I fall back onto the bed, moaning. I hear his soft chuckle.
“Oh, Ana, what I could do to you,” he whispers. He removes my other shoe and sock, then stands and removes my jeans completely. I’m lying on his bed dressed only in my bra and panties, and he’s staring down at me.
“You’re very beautiful, Anastasia Steele. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
Holy shit. His words. He’s so seductive. He takes my breath away.
“Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
What? I frown.
“Don’t be coy, Ana, show me,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.” My voice is hoarse. I hardly recognize it, laced with desire.
“How do you make yourself come? I want to see.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t,” I mumble. He raises his eyebrows, astonished for a moment, and his eyes darken, and he shakes his head in disbelief.
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” His voice is soft, challenging, a delicious sensual threat. He undoes the buttons of his jeans and slowly pulls his jeans down, his eyes on mine the whole time. He leans down over me and, grasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart and crawls onto the bed between my legs. He hovers over me. I am squirming with need.
“Keep still,” he murmurs, and then he leans down and kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing kisses up, over the thin lacy material of my panties, kissing me.
Oh … I can’t keep still. How can I not move? I wriggle beneath him.
“We’re going to have to work on keeping you still, baby.” He trails kisses up my belly, and his tongue dips into my navel. Still he’s heading north, kissing me across my torso. My skin is burning. I’m flushed, too hot, too cold, and I’m clawing at the sheet beneath me. He lies down beside me and his hand trails up from my hip, to my waist, and up to my breast. He gazes down at me, his expression unreadable, and gently cups my breast.
“You fit my hand perfectly, Anastasia,” he murmurs, and dips his index finger into the cup of my bra and gently yanks it down, freeing my breast, but the underwire and fabric of the cup force it upward. His finger moves to my other breast and repeats the process. My breasts swell, and my nipples harden under his steady gaze. I am trussed up by my own bra.
“Very nice,” he whispers appreciatively, and my nipples harden even more.
He blows very gently on one as his hand moves to my other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of my nipple, elongating it. I groan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to my groin. I am so wet. Oh, please, I beg internally as my fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around my other nipple, and when he tugs, I nearly convulse.
“Let’s see if we can make you come like this,” he whispers, continuing his slow, sensual assault. My nipples bear the delicious brunt of his deft fingers and lips, setting alight every single nerve ending so that my whole body sings with sweet agony. He just doesn’t stop.
“Oh … please,” I beg, and I pull my head back, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening. Holy hell, what’s happening to me?
“Let go, baby,” he murmurs. His teeth close round my nipple, and his thumb and finger pull hard, and I fall apart in his hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces. He kisses me, deeply, his tongue in my mouth absorbing my cries.
Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about. He gazes down at me, a satisfied smile on his face, while I’m sure there’s nothing but gratitude and awe on mine.
“You are very responsive,” he breathes. “You’re going to have to learn to control that, and it’s going to be so much fun teaching you how.” He kisses me again.
My breathing is still ragged as I come down from my orgasm. His hand moves down my waist, to my hips, and then cups me, intimately … Jeez. His finger slips through the fine lace and slowly circles around me—there. Briefly he closes his eyes, and his breathing hitches.
“You’re so deliciously wet. God, I want you.” He thrusts his finger inside me, and I cry out as he does it again and again. He palms my clitoris, and I cry out once more. He pushes inside me harder and harder still. I groan.
Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. Holy cow … He reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a foil packet, and then he moves between my legs, spreading them farther apart. He kneels up and pulls a condom onto his considerable length. Oh no … Will it? How?
“Don’t worry,” he breathes, his eyes on mine. “You expand, too.” He leans down, his hands on either side of my head, so he’s hovering over me, staring down into my eyes, his jaw clenched, eyes burning. It’s only now that I register he’s still wearing his shirt.
“You really want to do this?” he asks softly.
“Please,” I beg.
“Pull your knees up,” he orders softly, and I’m quick to obey. “I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele,” he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. “Hard,” he whispers, and he slams into me.
“Aargh!” I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity. He stills, gazing down at me, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph.
His mouth is open slightly, and his breathing is harsh. He groans.
“You’re so tight. You okay?”
I nod, my eyes wide, my hands on his forearms. I feel so full. He stays still, letting me acclimatize to the intrusive, overwhelming feeling of him inside me.
“I’m going to move, baby,” he breathes after a moment, his voice tight.
Oh.
He eases back with exquisite slowness. And he closes his eyes and groans, and thrusts into me again. I cry out a second time, and he stills.
“More?” he whispers, his voice raw.
“Yes,” I breathe. He does it once more, and stills again.
I groan, my body accepting him … Oh, I want this.
“Again?” he breathes.
“Yes.” It’s a plea.
And he moves, but this time he doesn’t st
op. He shifts onto his elbows so I can feel his weight on me, holding me down. He moves slowly at first, easing himself in and out of me. And as I grow accustomed to the alien feeling, my hips move tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. I moan, and he pounds on, picking up speed, merciless, a relentless rhythm, and I keep up, meeting his thrusts. He grasps my head between his hands and kisses me hard, his teeth pulling at my lower lip again. He shifts slightly, and I can feel something building deep inside me, like before. I start to stiffen as he thrusts on and on. My body quivers, bows; a sheen of sweat gathers over me. Oh my … I didn’t know it would feel like this … didn’t know it could feel as good as this. My thoughts are scattering … there’s only sensation … only him … only me … oh, please … I stiffen.
“Come for me, Ana,” he whispers breathlessly, and I unravel at his words, exploding around him as I climax and splinter into a million pieces underneath him. And as he comes, he calls out my name, thrusting hard, then stilling as he empties himself into me.
I am still panting, trying to slow my breathing, my thumping heart, and my thoughts are in riotous disarray. Wow … that was astounding. I open my eyes, and he has his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. Christian’s eyes flicker open and gaze down at me, dark but soft. He’s still inside me. Leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against my forehead then slowly pulls out of me.
“Ooh.” I wince at the unfamiliarity.
“Did I hurt you?” Christian asks as he lies down beside me propped on one elbow. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. And I have to grin, widely.
“You are asking me if you hurt me?”
“The irony is not lost on me,” he smiles sardonically. “Seriously, are you okay?” His eyes are intense, probing, demanding even.
I stretch out beside him, feeling loose-limbed, my bones like jelly, but I’m relaxed, deeply relaxed. I grin at him. I can’t stop grinning. Now I know what all the fuss is about. Two orgasms … coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow. I had no idea what my body was capable of, could be wound so tightly and released so violently, so gratifyingly. The pleasure was indescribable.