Fifty Shades of Grey Page 0,139

Grey," I smile shyly.

He walks around his desk with his usual grace and stands in front of me. He smells so good; clean and freshly laundered, so Christian. He gently strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers.

"I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Did you sleep well?"

"I am very well-rested, thank you. I just came to say hi before I had a shower."

I gaze up at him, drinking him in. He leans down and gently kisses me, and I can't help myself. I throw my arms around his neck and my fingers twist in his still damp hair.

Pushing my body flush against his, I kiss him back. I want him. My attack takes him by surprise, but after a beat, he responds, a low groan in his throat. His hands slip into my hair and down my back to cup my naked behind, his tongue exploring my mouth. He pulls back, his eyes hooded.

"Well, sleep seems to agree with you," he murmurs. "I suggest you go and have your shower, or I shall lay you across my desk, now."

"I choose the desk," I whisper recklessly as desire sweeps like adrenaline through my system, waking everything in its path.

He stares bewildered down at me for a millisecond.

"You've really got a taste for this, haven't you, Miss Steele. You're becoming insatiable," he murmurs.

"I've only got a taste for you," I whisper.

His eyes widen and darken while his hands knead my naked backside.

"Damn right, only me," he growls, and suddenly with one fluid movement, he clears all the plans and papers off his desk so that they scatter on the floor, sweeps me up in his arms, and lays me down across the short end of his desk so that my head is almost off the edge.

"You want it, you got it, baby," he mutters, producing a foil packet from his pants pocket while he unzips his pants. Oh Mr. Boy Scout. He rolls the condom over his erection and gazes down at me. "I sure hope you're ready," he breathes, a salacious smile across his face. And in a moment, he's filling me, holding my wrists tightly by my side, and thrusting into me deeply.

I groan... oh yes.

"Christ, Ana. You're so ready," he whispers in veneration.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I hold him the only way I can as he stays standing, staring down at me, gray eyes glowing, passionate and possessive. He starts to move, really move. This is not making love, this is fucking - and I love it. I groan. It's so raw, so carnal, making me so wanton. I revel in his possession, his lust slaking mine. He moves with ease, luxuriating in me, enjoying me, his lips slightly parted as his breathing increases.

He twists his hips from side to side, and the feeling is exquisite.

Oh my. I close my eyes, feeling the build up - that delicious, slow, step climbing build.

Pushing me higher, higher to the castle in the air. Oh yes... his stroke increasing fractionally. I moan loudly. I am all sensation... all him, enjoying every thrust, every push that fills me. And he picks up the pace, thrusting faster... harder... and my whole body is moving to his rhythm, and I can feel my legs stiffening, and my insides quivering and quickening.

"Come on, baby, give it up for me," he cajoles through gritted teeth - and the fervent need in his voice - the strain - sends me over the edge.

I cry out a wordless, passionate plea as I touch the sun and burn, falling around him, falling down, back to a breathless, bright summit on Earth. He slams into me and stops abruptly as he reaches his climax, pulling at my wrists, and sinking gracefully and wordlessly onto me.

Wow... that was unexpected. I slowly materialize back on Earth.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" he breathes as he nuzzles my neck. "You completely beguile me, Ana. You weave some powerful magic."

He releases my wrists, and I run my fingers through his hair, coming down from my high. I tighten my legs around him.

"I'm the one beguiled," I whisper.

He looks up, gazing at me, his expression is disconcerted, alarmed even. Placing his hands on either side of my face, he holds my head in place.

"You. Are. Mine," he says, each word a staccato. "Do you understand?"

He's so earnest, so impassioned - a zealot. The force of his plea is so unexpected and disarming. I wonder why he's feeling

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