Fifty Shades Trilogy Bundle: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed (111 page)

“You are one beautiful woman, Anastasia,” he murmurs appreciatively.

Hmm … I tilt my head coquettishly to 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.

H
mm.

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 explore 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?”

“I’ll just have some granola. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.”

I flush as I take my place at the breakfast bar beside Christian. The last time I set eyes on the very prim and proper Mrs. Jones, I was being unceremoniously dragged into the bedroom over Christian’s shoulder.

“You look lovely,” Christian says softly. I’m wearing my gray pencil skirt and gray silk blouse again.

“So do you.” I smile shyly at him. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt and jeans, and he looks cool and fresh and perfect, as always.

“We should buy you some more skirts,” he says matter-of-factly. “In fact—I’d love to take you shopping.”

Hmm—shopping. I hate shopping. But with Christian, maybe it won’t be so bad. I decide on distraction as the best form of defense.

“I wonder what will happen at work today?”

“They’ll have to replace the sleazeball.” Christian frowns, scowling as if he’s just stepped in something extraordinarily unpleasant.

“I hope they take on a woman as my new boss.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re less likely to object to me going away with her,” I tease him.

His lips twitch and he starts on his omelet.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“You are. Eat your granola, all of it, if that’s all you’re having.”

Bossy as ever. I purse my lips at him but dig in.

“SO, THE KEY GOES
here.” Christian points out the ignition beneath the gearshift.

“Strange place,” I mutter. But I’m delighted with every little detail, practically bouncing like a small child in the comfortable leather seat. Christian is finally letting me drive my car.

He regards me coolly, though his eyes are alight with humor. “You’re quite excited about this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, amused.

I nod, grinning like a fool. “Just smell that new car smell. This is even better than the Submissive Special … um, the A3,” I add quickly, blushing.

Christian’s mouth twists. “Submissive Special, eh? You have such a way with words, Miss Steele.” He leans back with a faux look of disapproval, but he can’t fool me. I know he’s enjoying himself.

“Well, let’s go.” He waves his hand toward the entrance of the garage.

I clap my hands, start the car, and the engine purrs to life. Putting the gearshift into drive, I ease my foot off the brake and the Saab moves smoothly forward. Taylor starts up the Audi behind us and once the garage barrier lifts, follows us out of Escala onto the street.

“Can we have the radio on?” I ask as we wait at the first stop sign.

“I want you to concentrate,” he says sharply.

“Christian, please, I can drive with music on.” I roll my eyes. He scowls for a minute and then reaches for the radio.

“You can play your iPod and MP3 discs as well as CDs on this,” he murmurs.

The too-loud dulcet tones of the Police suddenly fill the car. Christian turns the music down.
Hmm …
“King of Pain.”

“Your anthem,” I tease him, then instantly regret it when his mouth tightens in a thin line.
Oh no
. “I have this album, somewhere.” I continue hastily to distract him. Hmm … somewhere in the apartment I have spent very little time in.