Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades #1)(93)
Author: E.L. James

Unzipping his fly, he frees himself, grabs the backs of my thighs, and lifts me.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he commands, his voice urgent, strained.

I do as I’m told and wrap my arms around his neck, and he moves quickly and sharply, filling me. Ah! He gasps, and I groan. Holding my behind, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, he begins to move, slowly at first – a steady even tempo… but as his control unravels, he speeds up… faster, and faster. Ahhh! I tip my head back and concentrate on the invading, punishing, heavenly sensation… pushing me, pushing me… onward, higher, up… and when I can take no more, I explode around him, spiraling into an intense, all-consuming orgasm. He lets go with a deep growl, and he buries his head in my neck as he buries himself inside me, groaning loudly and incoherently as he finds his release.

His breathing is erratic, but he kisses me tenderly, not moving, still inside me, and I blink, unseeing into his eyes. As he comes into focus, he gently pulls out of me, holding me steady while I place my feet on the floor. The bathroom is now cloudy with steam…

and hot. I feel overdressed.

"You seem pleased to see me," I murmur with a shy smile.

His lips quirk up.

"Yes, Miss Steele, I think my pleasure is pretty self-evident. Come – let me get you in the shower."

He undoes the next three buttons of his shirt, removes the cufflinks, tugs it over his head, and discards it on the floor. Removing his suit pants and boxer briefs, he kicks them to one side. He begins to undo the buttons on my blouse while I watch him, yearning to reach out and stroke his chest, but I contain myself.

"How was your journey?" he asks mildly. He seems so much calmer now, his apprehension gone, dissolved by sexual congress.

"Fine, thank you," I murmur, still breathless. "Thanks once again for first class. It really is a much nicer way to travel." I smile shyly at him. "I have some news," I add nervously.

"Oh?" he looks down at me as he undoes the last button, slips my blouse down my arms, and throws it on top of his discarded clothes.

"I have a job."

He stills, then smiles at me, his eyes warm and soft.

"Congratulations, Miss Steele. Now will you tell me where?" he teases.

"You don’t know?"

He shakes his head, frowning slightly.

"Why would I know?"

"With your stalking capabilities, I thought you might have… " I trail off as his face falls."Anastasia, I wouldn’t dream of interfering in your career, unless you ask me to, of course." He looks wounded.

"So you have no idea which company?"

"No. I know there are four publishing companies in Seattle – so I am assuming it’s one of them."

"SIP"

"Oh, the small one, good. Well done." He leans forward and kisses my forehead.

"Clever girl. When do you start?"

"Monday."

"That soon, ehI’d better take advantage of you while I still can. Turn round."

I am thrown by his casual command, but do as I’m bid, and he undoes my bra and unzips my skirt. He pushes my skirt down, cupping my behind as he does, and kissing my shoulder. He leans against, me and his nose nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply. He squeezes my bu**ocks.

"You intoxicate me, Miss Steele, and you calm me. Such a heady combination." He kisses my hair. Grabbing my hand, he tugs me into the shower.

"Ow," I squeal. The water is practically scalding. Christian grins down at me as the water cascades over him.

"It’s only a little hot water."

And actually he’s right. It feels heavenly, washing off the sticky Georgia morning and the stickiness from our lovemaking.

"Turn round," he orders, and I comply, turning to face the wall. "I want to wash you,"

he murmurs and reaches for the body wash. He squirts a little into his hand.

"I have something else to tell you," I murmur as his hands start on my shoulders.

"Oh, yes?" he asks mildly.

I steel myself with a deep breath.

"My friend Jose’s photography show is opening Thursday in Portland."

He stills, his hands hovering over my br**sts. I have emphasized the word ‘friend.’

"Yes, what about it?" he asks sternly.

"I said I would go. Do you want to come with me?"

After what feels like a monumental amount of time, he slowly starts washing me again.

"What time?"

"The opening is at 7:30 p.m."

He kisses my ear.

"Okay."

Inside my subconscious relaxes and then collapses, slumped into an old battered arm-chair."Were you nervous about asking me?"

"Yes. How can you tell?"

"Anastasia, your whole body’s just relaxed," he says dryly.

"Well, you just seem to be um… on the jealous side."

"Yes, I am," he says darkly. "And you’d do well to remember that. But thank you for asking. We’ll take Charlie Tango."

Oh, the helicopter of course, silly me. More flying… cool! I grin.

"Can I wash you?" I ask.

"I don’t think so," he murmurs, and he kisses me gently on my neck to take the sting out of his refusal. I pout at the wall as he caresses my back with soap.

"Will you ever let me touch you?" I ask boldly.

He stills again, his hand on my behind.

"Put your hands on the wall Anastasia. I’m going to take you again," he murmurs in my ear as he grabs my hips, and I know that the discussion is over.

Later we are seated at the breakfast bar, dressed in bathrobes, having consumed Mrs.

Jones’s rather excellent pasta alle vongole.

"More wine?" Christian asks, gray eyes glowing.

"A small glass, please." The Sancerre is crisp and delicious. Christian pours one for me and one for himself.

"How’s the um… situation that bought you to Seattle?" I ask tentatively.

He frowns.

"Out of hand," he murmurs bitterly. "But nothing for you to worry about, Anastasia. I have plans for you this evening."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I want you ready and waiting in my playroom in fifteen minutes." He stands and gazes down at me.

"You can get ready in your room. Incidentally, the walk-in closet is now full of clothes for you. I don’t want any arguments about them." He narrows his eyes, daring me to say something. When I don’t, he stalks off to his study.

Me! Argue With you, Fifty ShadesIt’s more than my backside’s worth. I sit on the bar stool, momentarily stupefied, trying to assimilate this morsel of information. He’s bought me clothes. I roll my eyes in an exaggerated fashion knowing full well he can’t see me. Car, phone, computer… clothes, it’ll be a damn condo next, and then I really will be his mistress.

Ho! My subconscious has her snarky face on. I ignore her and make my way upstairs toward my room so, it is still mine… whyI thought he’d agreed to let me sleep with him.

I suppose he’s not used to sharing his personal space, but then, neither am I. I console myself with the thought that at least I have somewhere to escape from him.

Examining the door, I find that it has a lock but no key. I wonder briefly if Mrs. Jones has a spare. I’ll ask her. I open the closet door and close it again quickly. Holy Crap – he’s spent a fortune. It resembles Kate’s – so many clothes hanging neatly on the rail. Deep down, I know that they’ll all fit. But I have no time to think about that – I have to get kneeling in the Red Room of… Pain… or Pleasure – hopefully this evening.

Kneeling by the door, I am naked except for my panties. My heart is in my mouth. Jeez, I thought after the bathroom he would have had enough. The man is insatiable, or maybe all men are like him. I have no idea, no one to compare him too. Closing my eyes, I try to calm myself down, to connect with my inner sub. She’s there somewhere, hiding behind my inner goddess.

Anticipation runs bubbling like soda through my veins. What will he doI take a deep steadying breath, but I cannot deny it, I’m excited, aroused, wet already. This is so… I want to think wrong, but somehow it’s not. It’s right for Christian. It’s what he wants – and after the last few days… after all he’s done, I have to man up and take whatever he decides he wants, whatever he thinks he needs.

The memory of his look when I came in this evening, the longing in his face, his determined stride toward me like I was an oasis in the desert. I’d do almost anything to see that look again. I press my thighs together at the delicious memory, and it reminds me that I need to spread my knees. I shuffle them apart. How long will he make me waitThe wait is crippling me, crippling me with a dark and tantalizing desire. I glance quickly around the subtly lit room; the cross, the table, the couch, the bench… that bed. It looms so large, and it’s made up with red satin sheets. Which piece of apparatus will he use?