by E. L. James
He wraps me in his arms, holding me close. “When I think what might have happened,” he breathes, burying his face in my hair.
“When will you learn that I’m stronger than I look?” I whisper reassuringly into his neck, inhaling his delicious scent. There is nothing better on the planet than being in Christian’s arms.
“I know you’re strong,” Christian muses quietly. He kisses my hair, but then to my great disappointment, releases me. Oh?
Bending down I fish another item out of the open drawer. Several cuffs attached to a bar. I hold it up.
“That,” says Christian, his eyes darkening, “is a spreader bar with ankle and wrist restraints.”
“How does it work?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.
“You want me to show you?” he breathes in surprise, closing his eyes briefly.
I blink at him. When he opens his eyes, they are blazing.
“Yes, I want a demonstration. I like being tied up,” I whisper as my inner goddess pole vaults from the bunker onto her chaise longue.
“Oh, Ana,” he murmurs. He looks pained all of a sudden.
“What?”
“Not here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you in my bed, not in here. Come.” He grabs the bar and my hand, then leads me promptly out of the room.
Why are we leaving? I glance behind me as we exit. “Why not in there?”
Christian stops on the stairs and gazes up at me, his expression grave.
“Ana, you may be ready to go back in there, but I’m not. Last time we were in there, you left me. I keep telling you—when will you understand?” He frowns, releasing me so that he can gesticulate with his free hand.
“My whole attitude has changed as a result. My whole outlook on life has radically shifted. I’ve told you this. What I haven’t told you is—” He stops and runs his hand through his hair, searching for the correct words. “I’m like a recovering alcoholic, okay? That’s the only comparison I can draw. The compulsion has gone, but I don’t want to put temptation in my way. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He looks so remorseful, and in that moment, a sharp nagging pain lances through me. What have I done to this man? Have I improved his life? He was happy before he met me, wasn’t he?
“I can’t bear to hurt you because I love you,” he adds, gazing up at me, his expression one of absolute sincerity like a small boy telling a very simple truth.
He’s completely guileless, and he takes my breath away. I adore him more than anything or anyone. I do love this man unconditionally.
I launch myself at him so hard that he has to drop what he’s carrying to catch me as I push him up against the wall. Grabbing his face between my hands, I pull his lips to mine tasting his surprise as I push my tongue into his mouth. I am standing on the step above him—we’re at the same level, and I feel euphorically empowered. Kissing him passionately, my fingers twisting into his hair, I want to touch him, everywhere, but restrain myself, knowing his fear. Regardless, my desire unfurls, hot and heavy, blossoming deep inside me. He groans and grabs my shoulders, pushing me away.
“Do you want me to fuck you on the stairs?” he mutters, his breathing ragged. “Because right now, I will.”
“Yes,” I murmur and I’m sure my dark gaze matches his.
He glares at me, his eyes hooded and heavy. “No. I want you in my bed.” He scoops me up suddenly over his shoulder, making me squeal loudly, and smacks me hard on my behind, so that I squeal again. As he heads down the stairs, he stoops to pick up the fallen spreader bar.
Mrs. Jones is coming out of the utility room when we pass through the hall. She smiles at us, and I give her an apologetic upside-down wave. I don’t think Christian notices her.
In the bedroom he sets me down on my feet and drops the spreader onto the bed.
“I don’t think you’ll hurt me,” I breathe.
“I don’t think I’ll hurt you, either,” he says. He takes my head in his hands and kisses me, long and hard, igniting my already heated blood.
“I want you so much,” he whispers against my mouth, panting. “Are you sure about this—after today?”
“Yes. I want you, too. I want to undress you.” I can’t wait to get my hands on him—my fingers are itching to touch him.
His eyes widen and for a second he hesitates, perhaps to consider my request.
“Okay,” he says cautiously.
I reach for the second button on his shirt and hear him catch his breath.
“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to,” I whisper.
“No,” he responds quickly. “Do. It’s fine. I’m good,” he mutters.
I gently undo the button and my fingers glide down his shirt to the next. His eyes are large and luminous, his lips parted as his breathing shallows. He is so beautiful, even in his fear … because of his fear. I undo the third button and notice his soft hair poking through the large V of the shirt.
“I want to kiss you there,” I murmur.
He inhales sharply. “Kiss me?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
He gasps as I undo the next button and very slowly lean forward, making my intention clear. He’s holding his breath, but stands stock-still as I plant a gentle kiss among the soft, exposed curls. I undo the final button and lift my face to him. He’s gazing at me, and there’s a look of satisfaction, calm, and … wonder on his face.
“It’s getting easier, isn’t it?” I whisper.
He nods as I slowly push his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
“What have you done to me, Ana?” he murmurs. “Whatever it is, don’t stop.” And he gathers me in his arms, thrusting both his hands into my hair and pulling my head right back so that he can have easy access to my throat.
He runs his lips up to my jaw, nipping softly. I groan. Oh, I want this man. My fingers fumble at his waistband, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper.
“Oh, baby,” he breathes as he kisses me behind my ear. I feel his erection, firm and hard, straining against me. I want him—in my mouth. I step back abruptly and drop to my knees.
“Whoa!” he gasps.
I tug his pants and boxers sharply, and he springs free. Before he can stop me, I take him into my mouth, sucking hard, enjoying his shocked astonishment as his mouth drops open. He gazes down at me, watching my every move, eyes so dark and filled with carnal bliss. Oh my. I sheath my teeth and suck harder. He closes his eyes and surrenders to this blissful carnal pleasure. I know what I do to him, and it’s hedonistic, liberating, and sexy as hell. The feeling is heady; I’m not just powerful—I’m omniscient.
“Fuck,” he hisses and gently cradles my head, flexing his hips so he moves deeper inside my mouth. Oh yes, I want this and I swirl my tongue around him, pulling hard … over and over.
“Ana.” He tries to step back.
Oh no you don’t, Grey. I want you. I grab his hips firmly, doubling my efforts, and I can tell he’s close.
“Please,” he pants. “I’m gonna come, Ana,” he groans.
Good. My inner goddess’s head is thrown back in ecstasy, and he comes, loudly and wetly, into my mouth.
He opens his bright gray eyes, gazing down at me, and I smile up at him, licking my lips. He grins back at me, a wicked, salacious grin.
“Oh, so this is the game we’re playing, Miss Steele?” He bends, hooks his hands under my arms, and pulls me to my feet. Suddenly his mouth is on mine. He groans.
“I can taste myself. You taste better,” he murmurs against my lips. He tugs my T-shirt off and throws it carelessly onto the floor, then picks me up and tosses me onto the bed. Grabbing the end of my sweats, he tugs abruptly so that they come off in one swift move. I’m naked underneath, sprawled across his bed. Waiting. Wanting. His eyes drink me in, and slowly he removes his remaining clothes, not taking his eyes off me.
“You are one beautiful woman, Anastasia,” he murmurs appreciatively.
Hmm … I tilt my head coquettishly t
o one side and beam at him.
“You are one beautiful man, Christian, and you taste mighty fine.”
He gives me a wicked grin and reaches for the spreader bar. Grabbing my left ankle, he quickly cuffs it, strapping the buckle tightly, but not too tight. He tests how much room I have by sliding his little finger between the cuff and my ankle. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine; he doesn’t need to see what he’s doing. Hmm … he’s done this before.
“We’ll have to see how you taste. If I recall, you’re a rare, exquisite delicacy, Miss Steele.”
Oh.
Grasping my other ankle, he quickly and efficiently cuffs that one as well, so that my feet are about two feet apart.
“The good thing about this spreader is, it expands,” he murmurs. He clicks something on the bar, then pushes, so my legs spread further. Whoa, three feet apart. My mouth drops open, and I take a deep breath. Fuck, this is hot. I’m on fire, restless and needy.
Christian licks his lower lip.
“Oh, we’re going to have some fun with this, Ana.” Reaching down he grasps the bar and twists it so I flip onto my front. It takes me by surprise.
“See what I can do to you?” he says darkly and twists it again abruptly, so I am once more on my back, gaping up at him, breathless.
“These other cuffs are for your wrists. I’ll think about that. Depends if you behave or not.”
“When do I not behave?”
“I can think of a few infractions,” he says softly, running his fingers up the soles of my feet. It tickles, but the bar holds me in place, though I try to writhe away from his fingers.
“Your BlackBerry, for one.”
I gasp. “What are you going to do?”
“Oh, I never disclose my plans.” He smirks, his eyes alight with pure mischief.
Wow. He’s so mind-bogglingly sexy, it takes my breath away. He crawls up the bed so that he’s kneeling between my legs, gloriously naked, and I’m helpless.
“Hmm. You are so exposed, Miss Steele.” He runs the fingers of both his hands up the inside of each of my legs, slowly, surely, making small circular patterns. Never breaking eye contact with me.
“It’s all about anticipation, Ana. What will I do to you?” His softly spoken words penetrate right to the deepest, darkest, part of me. I wriggle on the bed and moan. His fingers continue their slow assault up my legs, past the backs of my knees. Instinctively, I want to close my legs but I can’t.
“Remember, if you don’t like something, just tell me to stop,” he murmurs. Bending over, he kisses my belly, soft, sucking kisses, while his hands continue their slow tortuous journey north up my inner thighs, touching and teasing.
“Oh, please, Christian,” I plead.
“Oh, Miss Steele. I’ve discovered you can be merciless in your amorous assaults upon me. I think I should return the favor.”
My fingers clutch the comforter as I surrender myself to him, his mouth gently heading south, his fingers north, to the vulnerable and exposed apex of my thighs. I groan as he eases his fingers inside me, and buck my pelvis up to meet them. Christian moans in response.
“You never cease to amaze me, Ana. You’re so wet,” he murmurs against the line where my pubic hair joins my belly. My body bows as his mouth finds me.
Oh my.
He begins a slow and sensual assault, his tongue swirling around and around while his fingers move inside me. Because I can’t close my legs, or move, it’s intense, really intense. My back arches as I try to absorb the sensations.
“Oh, Christian,” I cry.
“I know, baby,” he whispers, and to ease up on me, he blows softly on the most sensitive part of my body.
“Arrgh! Please!” I beg.
“Say my name,” he commands.
“Christian,” I call, hardly recognizing my own voice—it’s so high-pitched and needy.
“Again,” he breathes.
“Christian, Christian, Christian Grey,” I call out loudly.
“You are mine.” His voice is soft and deadly and with one last flick of his tongue, I fall—spectacularly—embracing my orgasm, and because my legs are so far apart, it goes on and on and I am lost.
Vaguely, I’m aware that Christian has flipped me onto my stomach.
“We’re going to try this, baby. If you don’t like it, or it’s too uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll stop.”
What? I am too lost in the afterglow to form any sentient or coherent thoughts. I am sitting on Christian’s lap. How did that happen?
“Lean down, baby,” he murmurs at my ear. “Head and chest on the bed.”
In a daze I do as I’m told. He pulls both my hands backward and cuffs them to the bar, next to my ankles. Oh … My knees are drawn up, my ass in the air, utterly vulnerable, completely his.
“Ana, you look so beautiful.” His voice is full of wonder, and I hear the rip of foil. He runs his fingers from the base of my spine down toward my sex and pauses a beat over my ass.
“When you’re ready, I want this, too.” His finger is hovering over me. I gasp loudly as I feel myself tense under his gentle probing. “Not today, sweet Ana, but one day … I want you every way. I want to possess every inch of you. You’re mine.”
I think about the butt plug, and everything tightens deep inside me. His words make me groan, and his fingers move down and around to more familiar territory.
Moments later, he’s slamming into me. “Aagh! Gently,” I cry, and he stills.
“You okay?”
“Gently … let me get used to this.”
He eases slowly out of me then eases gently back, filling me, stretching me, twice, thrice, and I am helpless.
“Yes, good, I’ve got it now,” I murmur, relishing the feeling.
He groans, and picks up his rhythm. Moving, moving … relentless … onward, inward, filling me … and it’s exquisite. There’s joy in my helplessness, joy in my surrender to him, and to know that he can lose himself in me the way he wants to. I can do this. He takes me to these dark places, places I didn’t know existed, and together we fill them with blinding light. Oh yes … blazing, blinding light.
And I let go, glorying in what he does to me, finding my sweet, sweet release, as I come again, loudly, screaming his name. And he stills, pouring his heart and soul into me.
“Ana, baby,” he cries and collapses beside me.
HIS FINGERS DEFTLY UNDO the straps, and he rubs my ankles then my wrists. When he’s finished and I’m finally free, he pulls me into his arms and I drift, exhausted.
When I surface again, I am curled beside him and he’s gazing at me. I have no idea what the time is.
“I could watch you sleep forever, Ana,” he murmurs and he kisses my forehead.
I smile and shift languorously beside him.
“I never want to let you go,” he says softly and wraps his arms around me.
Hmm. “I never want to go. Never let me go,” I mutter sleepily, my eyelids refusing to open.
“I need you,” he whispers, but his voice is a distant, ethereal part of my dreams. He needs me … needs me … and as I finally slip into the darkness, my last thoughts are of a small boy with gray eyes and dirty, messy, copper-colored hair smiling shyly at me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
* * *
Hmm.
Christian is nuzzling my neck as I slowly wake.
“Morning, baby,” he whispers and nips at my earlobe. My eyes flutter open and close again quickly. Bright early morning light floods the room, and his hand is softly caressing my breast, gently teasing me. Moving down he grasps my hip as he lies behind me, holding me close.
I stretch out beside him, relishing his touch, and feel his erection against my behind. Oh my. A Christian Grey wake-up call.
“You’re pleased to see me,” I mumble sleepily, squirming suggestively against him. I feel his grin against my jaw.
“I’m very pleased to see you,” he says as he skates his hand over my stomach and down to cup my sex and exp
lore with his fingers. “There are definite advantages to waking up beside you, Miss Steele,” he teases and gently pulls me around so that I’m lying on my back.
“Sleep well?” he asks as his fingers continue their sensual torture. He’s smiling down at me—his dazzling, all-American-drop-dead-male-model-perfect-teeth smile. He takes my breath away.
My hips begin to sway to the rhythm of the dance his fingers have begun. He kisses me chastely on the lips and then moves down my neck, nipping slowly, kissing, and sucking as he goes. I moan. He’s gentle and his touch is light and heavenly. His intrepid fingers move down, and slowly he eases one inside me, hissing quietly in awe.
“Oh, Ana,” he murmurs reverentially against my throat. “You’re always ready.” He moves his finger in time with his kisses as his lips journey leisurely across my clavicle and then down to my breast. He torments first one, then the other nipple with teeth and lips, but oh so gently, and they tighten and lengthen in sweet response.
I groan.
“Hmm,” he growls softly and raises his head to give me a blazing gray-eyed look. “I want you now.” He reaches over to the bedside table. He shifts on top of me, taking his weight on his elbows, and rubs his nose along mine while easing my legs apart with his. He kneels up and rips open the foil packet.
“I can’t wait until Saturday,” he says, his eyes glowing with salacious delight.
“Your party?” I pant.
“No. I can stop using these fuckers.”
“Aptly named.” I giggle.
He smirks at me as he rolls on the condom. “Are you giggling, Miss Steele?”
“No.” I try and fail to straighten my face.
“Now is not the time for giggling.” He shakes his head in admonishment and his voice is low, stern, but his expression—holy cow—is glacial and volcanic at once.
My breath catches in my throat. “I thought you liked it when I giggle,” I whisper hoarsely, gazing into the dark depths of his stormy eyes.
“Not now. There’s a time and a place for giggling. This is neither. I need to stop you, and I think I know how,” he says ominously, and his body covers mine.
“WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE for breakfast, Ana?”