Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades #3)(107)
Author: E.L. James

I tiptoe to the archway of the great room and watch Christian at the piano. It’s dusk. The sky is an opulent pink, and the light is reflected off his burnished copper hair. He looks his beautiful breathtaking self, concentrating as he plays, unaware of my presence. He’s been so forthcoming over the last few days, so attentive – offering small insights into his day, his thoughts, his plans. It’s as if he’s breached a dam and started talking.

I know he’ll come to check on me in a few minutes, and it gives me an idea. Excited, I steal away, hoping that he still hasn’t noticed me, and race to our room, stripping off my clothes as I go, until I’m wearing nothing but pale blue lace panties. I find a pale blue camisole and slip into it quickly. It will hide my bruise. Diving into the closet, I pull out Christian’s faded jeans – his playroom jeans, my favorite jeans – from the drawer. From my bedside table I pick up my BlackBerry, fold the jeans neatly, and kneel by the bedroom door. The door is ajar, and I can hear the strains of another piece, one I don’t know. But it’s another hopeful tune; it’s lovely. Quickly I type an email.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure

Date: September 21, 2011 20:45

To: Christian Grey

Sir

I await your instructions.

Yours always

Mrs. G x

I press send.

A few moments later the music stops abruptly. My heart lurches and starts pounding. I wait and wait and eventually my BlackBerry buzzes.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure <—love this title baby Date: September 21, 2011 20:48

To: Anastasia Grey

Mrs. G

I’m intrigued. I’l come find you.

Be ready.

Christian Grey

Anticipative CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Be ready! My heart starts to pound and I begin to count. Thirtyseven seconds later the door opens. I’m looking down at his bare feet as they pause on the threshold. Hmm. He says nothing. For ages he says nothing. Oh shit. I resist the urge to look up at him and keep my eyes downcast.

Finally, he reaches down and picks up his jeans. He stays silent but heads into the walk-in closet while I remain stock-still. Oh my . . . this is it. My heart is thundering, and I relish the rush of adrenaline that spikes through my body. I squirm as my excitement builds. What will he do to me? A few moments later he’s back, wearing the jeans.

"So you want to play?" he murmurs.

"Yes."

He says nothing, and I risk a quick glance . . . up his jeans, his denim clad thighs, the soft bulge at his fly, the open button at the waist, his happy trail, his navel, his chiseled abdomen, his chest hair, his gray eyes blazing, and his head cocked to one side. He’s arching an eyebrow. Oh shit.

"Yes what?" he whispers.

Oh.

"Yes, Sir."

His eyes soften. "Good girl," he murmurs, and he caresses my head.

"I think we’d better get you upstairs now," he adds. My insides liquefy, and my belly clenches in that delicious way.

He takes my hand and I follow him through the apartment and up the stairs. Outside the playroom door, he halts and bends and kisses me gently before grasping my hair hard.

"You know, you’re topping from the bottom," he murmurs against my lips.

"What?" I don’t understand what he’s talking about.

"Don’t worry. I’ll live with it," he whispers, amused, and he runs his nose along my jaw and gently bites my ear. "Once inside, kneel, like I’ve shown you."

"Yes . . . Sir."

He gazes down at me, eyes shining with love, wonder, and wicked thoughts.

Jeez . . . Life is never going to be boring with Christian, and I’m in this for the long haul. I love this man: my husband, my lover, father of my child, my sometimes Dominant . . . my Fifty Shades.

Epilogue

The Big House, May 2014

I lie on our tartan picnic blanket and gaze up at the clear, blue, summer sky, my view framed by meadow flowers and tall green grasses. The heat of the afternoon summer sun warms my skin, my bones and my belly, and I relax, my body turning to Jell-O. This is comfortable. Hell no . . . this is wonderful. I savor the moment, a moment of peace, a moment of pure and utter contentment. I should feel guilty for feeling this joy, this completeness, but I don’t. Life right here right now is good, and I’ve learned to appreciate it and live in the moment like my husband. I smile and squirm as my mind drifts to the delicious memory of last night at our home in Escala . . .

The strands of the flogger skim across my swollen belly at an aching, languorous pace.

"Have you had enough yet, Ana?" Christian whispers in my ear.

"Oh, please." I beg, pulling on the restraints above my head as I stand blindfolded and tethered to the grid in the playroom. The flogger’s sweet sting bites into my behind.

"Please what?"

I gasp. "Please, Sir."

Christian places his hand over my ringing skin and rubs gently.

"There. There. There." His words are soft. His hand moves south and around, and his fingers slide inside me.

I groan.

"Mrs. Grey," he breathes, and his teeth pull at my earlobe. "You’re so ready."

His fingers slide in and out of me, hitting that spot, that sweet, sweet spot again. The flogger clatters onto the floor and his hand moves over my belly and up to my br**sts. I tense. They are sensitive.

"Hush," Christian says, cupping one, and he gently brushes his thumb over my nipple.

"Ah."

His fingers are gentle and enticing, and pleasure spirals out from my breast, down, down . . . deep down. I tilt my head back, pushing my nipple into his palm, and moan once more.

"I like to hear you," Christian whispers. His erection is at my hip, the buttons of his fly pressing into my flesh as his fingers continue their relentless assault: in, out, in, out – keeping a rhythm. "Shall I make you come like this?" he asks.

"No."

His fingers stop moving inside me.

"Really, Mrs. Grey? Is it up to you?" His fingers tighten around my nipple.

"No . . . No, Sir."

"That’s better."

"Ah. Please," I beg.

"What do you want, Anastasia?"

"You. Always."

He inhales sharply.

"All of you," I add, breathless.

He eases his fingers out of me, pulls me around to face him, and removes the blindfold. I blink up into darkening gray eyes that burn into mine. His index fingers trace my bottom lip, and he pushes his index and middle fingers into my mouth, letting me taste the salty tang of my arousal.

"Suck," he whispers. I swirl my tongue around and between his fingers.

Hmm . . . even I taste good on his fingers.

His hands skim up my arms to the cuffs above my head, and he unclips them, freeing me. Turning me around so I’m facing the wall, he tugs on my braid, pulling me into his arms. He angles my head to one side and skims his lips up my throat to my ear while holding me flush against him.

"I want in your mouth." His voice is soft and seductive. My body, ripe and ready, clenches deep inside. The pleasure is sweet and sharp.

I moan. Turning to face him, I pull his head down to mine and kiss him hard, my tongue invading his mouth, tasting and savoring him. He groans, places his hands on my behind and tugs me against him, but only my pregnant belly touches him. I bite his jaw and trail kisses down his throat and run my fingers down to his jeans. He tilts his head back, exposing more of his throat to me, and I run my tongue down to his chest and through his chest hair.

"Ah."

I tug the waistband of his jeans, the buttons popping, and he grasps my shoulders as I sink to my knees in front of him. As I gaze up at him through my lashes, he stares down at me. His eyes are dark, his lips parted, and he inhales deeply when I free him and ensnare him with my mouth. I love doing this to Christian. Watching him come apart, hearing his breath hitch, and the soft moans he makes deep in his throat. I close my eyes and suck hard, pressing down on him, relishing his taste and his breathless gasp. He grasps my head, stilling me, and I sheath my teeth with my lips and push him deeper into my mouth.

"Open your eyes and look at me," he orders, his voice low. Blazing eyes meet mine and he flexes his hips, filling my mouth to the back of my throat then withdrawing quickly. He pushes into me again and I reach up to grab him. He stops and holds me in place.

"Don’t touch or I’ll cuff you again. I just want your mouth," he growls.

Oh my. Like that is it? I put my hands behind my back and gaze up at him innocently, his c**k in my mouth.