etched on his face. "This is what I'm talking about," he admonishes. "Your lack of self-preservation. I don't want to hurt you."
"No . . . don't stop," I whimper. He stares at me, warring with himself. "Please."
"Here." Abruptly he moves, and I'm sitting astride him, my short skirt now bunched up around my hips. His hands glide over the top of my thigh-highs.
"There. That's better, and I can enjoy the view." He reaches up and hooks his long index finger into my other bra cup, freeing that breast, too. He grasps both of my breasts, and I throw my head back, pushing them into his welcome, expert hands. He teases me, tugging and rolling my nipples until I cry out, then sits up so we're nose to nose, his greedy gray eyes on mine. He kisses me, his fingers still teasing me. I scramble for his shirt, undoing the first two buttons, and it's like sensory overload - I want to be kissing him everywhere, undressing him, making love with him all at once.
"Hey - " He gently grasps my head and pulls back, eyes dark and full of sensual promise. "There's no rush. Take it slow. I want to savor you."
"Christian, it's been so long." I'm panting.
"Slow," he whispers, and it's a command. He kisses the right corner of my mouth. "Slow." He kisses the left corner. "Slow, baby." He tugs my bottom lip with his teeth. "Let's take this slow." He unfurls his fingers in my hair, keeping me in place as his tongue invades my mouth, seeking, tasting, calming . . . inflaming. Oh, my man can kiss. I caress his face, my fingers moving tentatively down to his chin then to his throat, and I start again on the buttons of his shirt, taking my time, as he continues to kiss me. Slowly I pull his shirt apart, my fingers trailing over his clavicles, feeling their way across his warm, silky skin. I push him gently back until he's lying beneath me. Sitting up, I gaze down at him, aware that I'm squirming against his growing erection. Hmm. I trace my fingers across his lips to his jaw then down his neck, over his Adam's apple to that little dip at the base of his throat. My beautiful man. I lean down, and my kisses follow the tips of my fingers. My teeth graze his jaw and kiss his throat. He closes his eyes.
"Ah." He groans and tilts his head back, giving me easier access to the base of his throat, his mouth slack and open in silent veneration.
Christian lost and aroused is just so exhilarating . . . and so arousing to me.
My tongue trails down his sternum, twirling through his chest hair. Hmm. He tastes so good. He smells so good. Intoxicating. I kiss first one, then two of his small round scars, and he grasps my hips, so my fingers halt on his chest as I gaze down at him. His breathing is harsh.
"You want this? Here?" he breathes, his eyes hooded with a heady combination of love and lust.
"Yes," I murmur, and my lips and tongue graze across his chest to his nipple. I pull and roll it gently with my teeth.
"Oh, Ana," he whispers and circling my waist he lifts me, tugging at his button and fly so he springs free. He sits me down again, and I push against him, delighting in the feel of him hot and hard beneath me. He runs his hands up my thighs, pausing where my thigh-highs stop and my flesh begins, his hands running small teasing circles at the top of my thighs so that the tips of his thumbs touch me . . . touch me where I want to be touched. I gasp.
"I hope you're not attached to your underwear," he murmurs, his eyes wild and bright. His fingers trace the elastic along my belly then slide inside, teasing me, before grabbing my panties tightly and pushing his thumbs through the delicate material. My panties disintegrate. His hands splay out on my thighs, and his thumbs brush against my sex once more. He flexes his hips so his erection rubs against me.
"I can feel how wet you are." His voice is tinged with carnal appreciation, and he suddenly sits up, his arm around my waist again, so we're nose to nose. He rubs his nose against mine.
"We're going to take this slow, Mrs. Grey. I want to feel all of you."