Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,216

doesn’t leave mine, as I sink down onto my knees in front of her, to worship at her altar.

Her mouth parts as she inhales.

Oh, Ana. Let’s see how far your confidence has grown.

I know what she’s feeling. “Exposed? Vulnerable?” I ask.

She licks her lips and nods.

“Good,” I whisper.

Baby, you’ve got this. “Hold out your hands.” From my back pocket I withdraw the small bottle of oil. Ana holds up her cupped palms and I pour a little oil into her hands. The scent is heavy but not unpleasant. “Rub your hands.”

She wriggles on the couch.

Oh, this will never do. “Keep still,” I warn.

Ana stops squirming.

“Now, Anastasia, I want you to touch yourself.”

She blinks—surprised, I think.

“Start at your throat and work down.”

Her teeth dig into that bottom lip.

“Don’t be shy, Ana. Come. Do it.”

Come on, Ana.

She places her hands on either side of her neck, then glides them down to the tops of her breasts, leaving a slick shine over her skin in their wake.

“Lower,” I whisper.

After a beat, her hands embrace her breasts.

“Tease yourself.”

Tentatively, her darkening eyes on mine, she takes each of her nipples between thumb and forefinger and gently tugs on both.

“Harder,” I urge her, feeling like the serpent in the garden. “Like I would,” I add, gripping my own thighs to keep myself from touching her. She groans in response and squeezes and tugs harder. I watch each pucker and lengthen under her touch.

Damn, she’s hot.

“Yes. Like that. Again.”

She closes her eyes and moans, and rolls and twists them between her fingers and thumbs.

“Open your eyes.” My voice is hoarse.

She blinks them open.

“Again,” I order. “I want to see you. See you enjoy your touch.”

She continues, her eyes clouded with dark longing—her breathing increasing as desire consumes her—while my yearning matches hers.

This must be making her so wet…

My pants are getting tighter by the second. Enough. “Hands. Lower.”

She squirms.

“Keep still, Ana. Absorb the pleasure. Lower.”

“You do it,” she whispers.

“Oh, I will. Soon. You. Lower. Now.” She has no idea how fucking hot she looks right now. She glides her hands beneath her breasts, over her stomach, toward her belly, as she writhes, pulling on the robe restraints.

No. No. I shake my head. “Still.” Placing my hands on each of her knees, I hold her in place. “Come on, Ana—lower.” Her hands slide down to her belly.

“Lower,” I mouth.

“Christian, please,” she begs. I skim my hands from her knees, along her thighs, toward the exposed junction at the top of her legs.

My end goal.

Her goal.

“Come on, Ana. Touch yourself.”

Her left hand grazes her vulva, then she starts to rub her fingers in a slow circle over her clitoris. “Ah!” she breathes, her mouth forming a badly drawn o.

“Again.” The word is a whisper and a command.

She groans, gasping for air, and closes her eyes, tipping her head back against the sofa as her hand moves.

“Again.”

She groans again, and I don’t want her to come without me. Grabbing her hands, I hold them firmly, and bend down between her thighs, running my nose and tongue over her clitoris. Back and forth. Again. Taking her higher.

She’s so wet. Dripping with her lust.

“Ah!” she cries and tries to move her hands. I tighten my fingers around her wrists while I continue my sensual onslaught.

“I’ll restrain these, too. Keep still,” I breathe, against her most intimate place.

Ana groans, and I release her, then slowly ease two fingers inside her.

So wet.

So ready.

So greedy.

The heel of my hand pushes up against her clitoris.

“I’m going to make you come quickly, Ana. Ready?”

“Yes,” she breathes, nodding frantically.

I move my hand. Hard. Fast. Stimulating her both inside and out. She mewls above me. Her head twisting to and fro, her toes curling, and her fingers clawing at the towel beneath her. I know she wants to straighten her legs to lessen the intense feeling. But she can’t; she’s close.

So close.

But I don’t stop.

And I feel it.

The beginning.

Of the end.

Her orgasm. Coming.

“Surrender,” I whisper, and she cries out. Loud and proud, and I press the heel of my hand against her clitoris, and ride out her orgasm, which goes on and on.

Wow. Ana.

With my other hand I untie the robe belts, one at a time.

As she descends back to earth, I murmur, “My turn.” Withdrawing my fingers from inside her, I ease back and I flip her over so she’s facedown on the sofa, her knees on the floor. I yank open my jeans, spread her legs with my knee, and slap her hard across her beautiful backside.

“Ah!”