Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian(29)
Author: E.L. James

Holding her head, I run my fingers through her hair and pull her to me, kissing her. She moans against me and parts her lips, allowing me access to her warm, wet mouth. The sweet appreciative noise echoes through me—to the end of my cock. Her tongue shyly meets mine, tentatively probing my mouth, and for some reason, her fumbling inexperience is…hot.

She tastes luscious. Wine, grapes, and innocence—a potent, heady mix of flavors. I fold my arms tightly around her, relieved that she grips only my upper arms. With one hand in her hair, holding her in place, I run my other hand down her spine to her ass and push her against me, against my erection. She moans again. I continue to kiss her, coaxing her unschooled tongue to explore my mouth as I explore hers. My body tenses when she moves her hands up my arms—and for a moment I worry where she’ll touch me next. She caresses my cheek, then strokes my hair. It’s a little unnerving. But when she twists her fingers in my hair, pulling gently…

Damn, that feels good.

I groan in response but can’t let her continue. Before she can touch me again, I push her against the bed and drop to my knees. I want her out of these jeans—I want to strip her, arouse her some more, and…keep her hands off me. Grasping her hips, I run my tongue just north of the waistband up to her navel. She tenses and inhales sharply. Fuck, does she smell and taste good, an orchard in springtime, and I want my fill. Her hands fist in my hair once more; this I don’t mind—in fact, I like it. I nip her hipbone and her grip tightens in my hair. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slack, and she’s panting. As I reach up and undo the button on her jeans, she opens her eyes and we study each other. Slowly I ease down the zipper and move my hands around her ass. Slipping my hands inside the waistband, my palms against the soft cheeks of her behind, I slide her jeans off.

I can’t stop myself. I want to shock her…test her boundaries right now. Not taking my eyes off hers, I deliberately lick my lips, then lean forward and run my nose up the center of her panties, inhaling her arousal. Closing my eyes, I savor her.

Lord, she’s enticing.

“You smell so good.” My voice is husky with want and my jeans are becoming extremely uncomfortable. I need to take them off. Gently, I push her onto the bed and, grasping her right foot, I make quick work of removing her sneaker and sock. To tease her I run my thumbnail along her instep and she writhes gratifyingly on the bed, her mouth open, watching me, fascinated. Leaning down, I trace my tongue along her instep, and my teeth graze the little line that my thumbnail has left in its wake. She lies back on the bed, eyes closed, groaning. She’s so responsive, it’s delightful.

“Oh, Ana, what I could do to you,” I whisper, as images of her writhing beneath me in my playroom flash through my mind: shackled to my four-poster bed, bent over the table—suspended from the cross. I could tease and torture her until she begged for release…the images make my jeans even tighter.

Hell.

Quickly I remove her other shoe and sock, and pull off her jeans. She’s almost naked on my bed, her hair framing her face perfectly, her long, pale legs stretched out in invitation before me. I have to make allowances for her inexperience. But she’s panting. Wanting. Her eyes fixed on me.

I’ve never fucked anyone in my bed before. Another first with Miss Steele.

“You’re very beautiful, Anastasia Steele. I can’t wait to be inside you.” My voice is gentle; I want to tease her some more, find out what she does know. “Show me how you pleasure yourself,” I ask, gazing intently down at her.

She frowns.

“Don’t be coy, Ana, show me.” Part of me wants to spank the shyness out of her.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Is she playing games?

“How do you make yourself come? I want to see.”

She remains mute. Clearly I’ve shocked her again. “I don’t,” she mutters finally, her voice breathless. I gaze at her in disbelief. Even I used to masturbate, before Elena sunk her claws into me.

She’s probably never had an orgasm—though I find this hard to believe. Whoa. I’m responsible for her first fuck and her first orgasm. I’d better make this good.

“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” I’m going to make you come like a freight train, baby.

Hell—she’s probably never seen a naked man, either. Not taking my eyes off hers, I undo the top button on my jeans and ease them onto the floor, though I can’t risk taking my shirt off, because she might touch me.

But if she did…it wouldn’t be so bad…would it? Being touched?

I banish the thought before the darkness surfaces, and grasping her ankles, I spread her legs. Her eyes widen and her hands clench my sheets.

Yes. Keep your hands there, baby.

I crawl slowly up the bed, between her legs. She squirms beneath me.

“Keep still,” I tell her, and lean down to kiss the delicate skin of her inner thigh. I trail kisses up her thighs, over her panties, across her belly, nipping and sucking as I go. She writhes beneath me.

“We’re going to have to work on keeping you still, baby.”

If you’ll let me.

I’ll teach her to just absorb the pleasure and not move, intensifying every touch, every kiss, every nip. The thought alone is enough to make me want to bury myself in her, but before I do, I want to know how responsive she is. So far she hasn’t held back. She’s allowing me free rein over her body. She’s not hesitant at all. She wants this…she really wants this. I dip my tongue into her navel and continue my leisurely journey north, savoring her. I shift, lying beside her, one leg still between hers. My hand ghosts up her body, over her hip, up her waist, on to her breast. Gently I cup her breast, trying to gauge her reaction. She doesn’t stiffen. She doesn’t stop me…she trusts me. Can I extend her trust to letting me have complete dominion over her body…over her? The thought is exhilarating.

“You fit my hand perfectly, Anastasia.” Dipping my finger into her bra cup, I jerk it down, freeing her breast. The nipple is small, rose pink, and it’s already hard. I drag the cup down so that the fabric and underwire rest under her breast, forcing it upward. I repeat the process with the other cup and watch, fascinated, as her nipples grow under my steady gaze. Whoa…I haven’t even touched her yet.

“Very nice,” I whisper in awed appreciation, and blow gently on the nearest nipple, watching in delight as it hardens and extends. Anastasia closes her eyes and arches her back.