Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,111

the double doors of the foyer. Sawyer is waiting.

Hell.

“Sawyer, I’d like to be debriefed in an hour,” I state, wanting him gone.

“Yes, sir.” He heads back into Taylor’s office.

Good. I look down at my wife. “Rough?”

She nods, her expression serious.

“Well, Mrs. Grey, you’re in luck. I’m taking requests today.” My mind races with possibilities. “Do you have anything in mind?”

She raises her left shoulder in a coquettish shrug.

What does that mean? “Kinky fuckery?” I ask, to be clear.

She nods an emphatic yes, but her face flushes.

“Carte blanche?” I ask.

Her eyes flick to mine, and they’re brimming with curiosity and sensuality. “Yes.” Her husky affirmation feeds the flames of my desire.

“Come.” We head upstairs to the playroom. “After you, Mrs. Grey.” I unlock the door and step aside, and Ana strolls into my favorite room. I follow her in, switching on the lights. Ana turns, watching me as I lock the door.

Take a breath, Grey.

I love this moment.

Building anticipation.

It’s exhilarating.

She stands there, waiting. Wanting. Mine.

Last time we were in here, I put her in the harness.

A memory of that flits through my mind. That was fun.

What shall I do with her today?

“What do you want, Anastasia?”

“You.”

“You’ve got me. You’ve had me since you fell into my office.”

“Surprise me, then, Mr. Grey.”

She’s so bold. “As you wish, Mrs. Grey.” Folding my arms, I tap my index finger against my lip.

I know what I’d like to do.

I’ve wanted to do it for a long, long time.

But first things first.

“I think we’ll start by ridding you of your clothes.” Stepping forward, I grasp her short denim jacket, ease it off her shoulders, and drop it to the floor; her camisole is next. “Lift your arms.” She does as she’s told and I peel it off her lovely body. I offer her a soft, sweet kiss, then discard her top so it lands on her jacket. She’s wearing a lacy black bra, her nipples visible and pressing through the fabric.

My wife is hot.

“Here,” she says and, to my surprise, offers me a hair tie.

My dark confession in Saint-Paul-de-Vence has done nothing to discourage her, or to keep her away from me.

Don’t overthink this, Grey.

I take it from her. “Turn around.”

She does, with a small, private smile, and I wonder what she’s thinking about.

Don’t go there, either, Grey.

Quickly, I braid her hair and fasten it. With a tug, I pull her head back. “Good thinking, Mrs. Grey,” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear, then I nip her earlobe. “Now turn around and take your skirt off. Let it fall to the floor.”

She steps forward, turns on her heel, and with her eyes on mine, she unfastens her skirt and slides the zipper down, slowly. Her skirt flares out like a parasol and drifts to her feet.

She is Aphrodite.

“Step out from your skirt.”

She complies and I kneel at her feet and grasp her ankle, unbuckling each of her sandals in turn. Once they’re off, I sit back on my heels and gaze up at my wife. In black lacy underwear, she’s spectacular. “You’re a fine sight, Mrs. Grey.” Kneeling up, I grab her hips and yank her forward, burying my nose at the blessed junction of her thighs.

She gasps as I inhale. “And you smell of you and me and sex. It’s intoxicating.” I kiss the top of her sweet cleft through the lace, then release her and gather her clothes and shoes before standing. With my hands full, I point with my chin. “Go and stand beside the table.” I make my way to the chest of drawers. When I glance back at Ana, she’s watching me like a hawk.

This will never do.

“Face the wall. That way you won’t know what I’m planning. We aim to please, Mrs. Grey, and you wanted a surprise.”

Ana obeys, and I drop her shoes beside the door and place her clothes on the chest. I strip off my shirt, remove my own shoes, and glance at her. She’s still facing the wall. Good. From the butt drawer, I extract what I need, and leave the items on the chest while I find some music on the iPod: Pink Floyd, “The Great Gig in the Sky.”

Okay. Let’s see if she goes for this.

Moving back to Ana, I place my haul on the table, out of her sight line.

“Rough, you say, Mrs. Grey?” I whisper into her ear.

“Hmm.”

“You must tell me to stop if it’s too much. If you say stop, I will stop immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I need your promise.”

“I