Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,135

with my hand in the cookie jar. I stop misbehaving, but I keep my hands on her fine backside while she rinses my hair. I imagine I’m playing the Moonlight Sonata on her ass, my fingers flexing through the notes. She wiggles deliciously against my fingers and I growl in appreciation.

“There, all rinsed,” she announces.

“Good.” My fingers tighten around her hips and I sit up, dripping water everywhere and pulling Ana sidesaddle onto my lap. I curl my fingers around her nape, and with my other hand I hold her jaw. She gasps and I take full advantage, pressing my lips to hers and kissing her. My tongue seeking more.

Hot. Hungry. Ready.

I don’t care that I’m spraying water all over the bathroom and soaking my wife. Ana’s fingers tighten in my wet hair as she returns my kiss with a ferocity of her own.

Desire courses through my veins.

Demanding release.

I’m tempted to rip off her blouse, but I tug the top button. “Enough of this primping. I want to fuck you seven shades of Sunday, and we can do it in here or in the bedroom. You decide.”

Ana’s expression is dazed.

“What’s it to be, Anastasia?”

“You’re wet,” she whispers.

Holding her hips, I tip my head forward and rub my wet hair all over the front of her blouse. She squeals once more and squirms, but I tighten my hold. “Oh, no you don’t, baby.”

When I look up, her blouse is sticking to her like a second skin, her lacy bra obvious, her nipples pert beneath the lace. She’s gorgeous, but she’s also outraged, amused, and aroused at once. “Love the view,” I whisper, and lean down to run my nose around her wet, waiting nipple. She groans and wriggles on me. “Answer me, Ana. Here or the bedroom?”

“Here,” she whispers.

“Good choice, Mrs. Grey,” I murmur against the corner of her mouth, and move my hand from her jaw to her leg. Skimming my fingers over her pantyhose toward her thigh, I raise her skirt higher and higher while placing tender kisses along her jaw. “Oh, what shall I do to you?” I murmur.

Oh. My fingers reach the firm flesh of her thighs.

She’s wearing stockings!

Deep joy.

“I like these.” I run a finger under the stocking top and across the soft skin of her upper thigh. Ana squirms in delight. I groan. “If I’m going to fuck you seven shades of Sunday, I want you to keep still.”

“Make me,” she demands, and the challenge in her eyes goes straight to my cock.

“Oh, Mrs. Grey. You have only to ask.” I slide my hand up to her panties, glad that she’s wearing them over her garter belt. “Let’s divest you of these.” I tug gently, and she shifts on top of my erection.

Fuck. My breath hisses through my teeth. “Keep still,” I grumble.

“I’m helping.” She pouts in protest, and I suck her bottom lip between my teeth.

“Still,” I warn, then release her lip and tug her panties down her legs, crushing them into my hand; I have a plan for them. I raise Ana’s skirt so it’s bunched up around her hips and take a brief moment to appreciate how beautiful her legs are in stockings with lacy tops. I lift her. “Sit. Astride me.”

Keeping her darkening eyes on mine, she obeys, but tilts her chin up wearing her Bring it expression.

Oh, Ana.

“Mrs. Grey, are you goading me?”

We could have some fun with this.

My pants feel two sizes too small.

“Yes. What are you going to do about it?”

God, I love a challenge.

“Clasp your hands together behind your back.”

She does, and I bind her wrists with her panties and pull them tight. Now she’s helpless. “My panties? Mr. Grey, you have no shame,” she chides me, breathless.

“Not where you’re concerned, Mrs. Grey, but you know that.”

I love the provocation in her smoky blue eyes. It’s such a turn-on. I push her backward on my lap so I have more room to work. She chews her lip, her eyes on mine, and gently I skim my hands down to her knees, pushing her legs wider apart. Then I widen my legs, to give my dick some more room and to make her more available to me.

Also, it will be more intense for her this way.

My fingers move to the buttons on her wet blouse. “I don’t think we need this.” Slowly, I undo each button, revealing her breasts, still slick from their earlier soaking. They rise and fall rapidly as she inhales sharply, and I leave her