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 on to 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 devilment.
Holy cow. 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, sucky 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 duvet 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 on to my front.
“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.
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