Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,76

continue.

I think Ana is going to combust.

“I know you’ve always dreamed of going to Europe. I want to make your dreams come true, Anastasia.”

“You are my dreams come true, Christian.”

“Back at you, Mrs. Grey.” Her words warm my soul, and I take another sip of champagne. “Buckle up.”

Ana grins. I think she’s pleased. And so am I. We’re flying through the sunset to chase the dawn on the other side of the Atlantic.

Once we’re airborne, Natalia serves us dinner. Again, I’m starving.

Why?

Getting married really takes it out of a man. Ana and I discuss our highlights of the wedding. Mine was seeing her for the first time in her beautiful dress.

“Mine was seeing you,” Ana confesses. “And that you were there!”

“There?”

“Part of me had wondered if this was all a dream and that maybe you wouldn’t show up.”

“Ana, wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away.”

“Dessert, Mr. Grey?” Natalia asks.

I decline, and turn to study my wife. Running my finger across my bottom lip, I watch Ana, waiting for her response.

“No, thank you,” she says to Natalia, gazing intently at me. Natalia leaves us.

Oh, sweet heaven. I’m going to claim my wife.

“Good,” I whisper. “I’d rather planned on having you for dessert.”

Ana’s eyes meet mine and darken while her teeth tease her bottom lip.

Rising from the table, I offer her my hand. “Come.” We head to the back of the cabin, away from the galley and the cockpit. I point to a door at the far end. “There’s a bathroom here.” Passing through a short corridor, we emerge into the aft cabin where the queen-size bed is ready for us.

I pull Ana into my arms. “I thought we’d spend our wedding night at thirty-five thousand feet. It’s something I’ve never done before.”

Ana inhales sharply, and the sound echoes in my groin.

“But first I have to get you out of this fabulous dress.”

Her breathing deepens. She wants this, too.

“Turn around,” I whisper.

She complies instantly, and I study her updo. Each hairpin has a tiny pearl on it—they’re exquisite. Like Ana. Gently, I start to extract each one, letting every strand of her hair fall free. My fingertips graze her temple, her neck, her earlobe, but it’s the lightest of touches. I want to tease and tantalize the hell out of my wife. And it’s working. She’s surreptitiously shifting her weight from foot to foot. She’s restless. Impatient. Her breathing is louder.

She’s aroused.

Just by my touch. And for me, her response is equally arousing.

“You have such beautiful hair, Ana.” I breathe the words against her temple, enjoying her delicious fragrance, and a soft sigh escapes her lips. When I’ve removed all the pins, I ease my fingers into her hair and begin to slowly massage her scalp.

She lets free a heartfelt moan of pleasure and leans back against me. My fingers travel over the back of her head to her nape. I take a fistful of her lush hair and tug, giving me access to her throat. “You’re mine.” I tease her earlobe with my teeth.

She groans.

“Hush now.” I sweep her hair over her shoulder and skim my finger along the lace edging of her dress. A tremor runs through her as I press my lips to her skin above the top button.

“So beautiful,” I whisper, and undo it. “You have made me the happiest man alive today.” Taking my sweet time, I continue unfastening each delicate button. Her dress falls open, revealing her pale pink corset with delicate hooks at the back.

My cock approves. Big-time.

“I love you so much.” I skim my lips from her nape to her shoulder. Murmuring between kisses. “I. Want. You. So. Much. I. Want. To. Be. Inside. You. You. Are. Mine.”

She angles her head, offering her throat to me.

“Mine,” I utter against her skin, and slip her sleeves down her arms so that her bridal gown falls to her feet, in a delicate shock of silk and lace, leaving her in her corset with garters and stockings.

Sweet Jesus. Stockings. All the blood in my body heads south.

“Turn around.” My voice is hoarse.

Inhaling sharply, I study my wife. She looks demure and really fucking hot all at once; her breasts forced up and full beneath her corset and her hair a tumbling riot of lush chestnut.

“You like?” she asks, and she turns a fetching pink that matches her sexy underwear.

“More than like, baby. You look sensational. Here.” I offer her my hand, and she steps out of her dress.

“Keep still,” I warn, locking my eyes on hers. I