Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,137

hand against her cheek and she runs her tongue around the head of my erection. I gasp, and suddenly she pounces, pulling my dick into her mouth and sucking, really hard.

“Ah!” Ana’s mouth is heaven.

I flex my hips forward, diving deeper into her throat, and she takes me, all of me.

Fuck.

She moves her head, up and down, consuming me.

Ah. She’s so good at this.

But I don’t want to come in her mouth. I hold her head with both hands to slow her down and control her pace.

Easy, baby.

Panting hard, I guide her mouth. Down. Up. On. Me. Her tongue works its magic. “Jesus, Ana,” I whisper, and screw my eyes up, and lose myself in her rhythm.

She draws her lips back, so I feel her teeth.

Fuck. I stop and grab her, moving her onto my lap. “Enough!” I growl. I tug her panties off her wrists and she looks so fucking pleased with herself. As she should. She’s a goddess, her expression sultry beneath her long lashes. She licks her lips and wraps her fingers around my dick and scoots forward and lowers herself oh-so-fucking-slowly onto me.

Oh, the feel of her.

Groaning, in tribute to her, I tug her blouse off so it falls to the floor. I steady her hips with my hands to stall her. “Still,” I order. “Please, let me savor this. Savor you.”

She stops moving, and her dark, dark eyes glow with her love and innate sensuality; her lips are parted and moist where she’s been biting her bottom lip.

She is my life.

I flex my butt, driving deeper into her, and she moans and closes her eyes. “This is my favorite place,” I murmur. “Inside you. Inside my wife.”

Ana’s fingers fist in my wet hair, her lips find mine, and her tongue finds mine as she starts to move, rising up and down, riding me.

Riding me, fast. Her pace frantic.

I moan, weaving my hands in her hair, and my tongue welcomes hers, as they dance a dance they know so well.

She’s greedy.

Like me.

Too fast, baby.

My hands move to her ass, and I guide her once more, to a quick but even tempo.

“Ah!” she cries out.

“Yes. Yes, Ana,” I hiss through my teeth, as I try to prolong this exquisite pleasure. “Baby,” I murmur as my passion builds, and I take her mouth once more.

Ana. Ana. Will it always be like this?

This. Hot.

This. Elemental.

This. Extreme.

“Oh, Christian, I love you. I will always love you.”

Her words are my undoing. I can’t hold on, after all the tension between us today. I clasp her to me and let go, crying out as I come hard and fast, triggering her release. She cries out and surrenders herself to me, shuddering around me, until we’re both still.

Together, we resurface.

She’s crying. “Hey.” I tip her chin back. “Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she says in a breathless rush of denial. I push her hair off her face and wipe the tear that’s slipped down her cheek with my thumb, and kiss her. I shift, pulling out of her, and she winces as I do.

“What’s wrong, Ana? Tell me.”

Watery eyes stare into mine. “It’s just, it’s just sometimes I’m overwhelmed by how much I love you,” she whispers.

My heart melts and mends into one glorious whole. “You have the same effect on me.” I touch my lips to hers in the softest of kisses.

“Do I?”

Ana. “You know you do.”

“Sometimes I know. Not all the time.”

“Back at you, Mrs. Grey.”

What a pair we make, Anastasia.

Her smile lights a path for my dark soul and she leaves a trail of soft, sweet kisses over my chest and cuddles up to me, her cheek against my heart. I stroke her hair and run my fingers down her back. She’s still wearing her bra. It can’t be very comfortable; I undo it, tug down each of the straps so it falls to the floor, joining her blouse.

“Hmm. Skin on skin.” I fold her into my arms and graze my lips over her shoulder and up to her ear. “You smell like heaven, Mrs. Grey.”

“So do you, Mr. Grey.” She kisses my chest again and relaxes into me, letting out what I think is a sigh of contentment.

I don’t know how long we sit, wrapped around each other, but it’s a balm to my soul. We are one. The tension between us gone. I kiss her hair, inhale my wife’s scent, and all is right in my world once more.

“It’s late.” I’m stroking her back and