Free Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker by E L James

trailing my finger from the base of my ear, down my throat. He smoothes my hair out of the line of fire and bends, leaving sweet soft kisses along the path my finger took and then back again.
    “My jeans and panties,” I murmur, and he smiles against my throat before he drops to his knees in front of me. Oh, I feel so powerful. Hooking his thumbs into my jeans, he gently pulls them and my panties down my legs. I step out of my pumps and my clothes so that I’m left wearing only my bra. He stops and looks up at me expectantly, but he doesn’t get up.
    “What now, Anastasia?”
    “Kiss me,” I whisper.
    “Where?”
    “You know where.”
    “Where?”
    Oh, he’s taking no prisoners. Embarrassed I quickly point at the apex of my thighs, and he grins wickedly. I close my eyes, mortified, but at the same time beyond aroused.
    “Oh, with pleasure,” he chuckles. He kisses me and unleashes his tongue, his joy-inspiring expert tongue. I groan and fist my hands into his hair. He doesn’t stop, his tongue circling my clitoris, driving me insane, on and on, round and round. Ahhh . . . it’s only been . . . how long . . . ? Oh . . .
    “Christian, please,” I beg. I don’t want to come standing up. I don’t have the strength.
    “Please what, Anastasia?”
    “Make love to me.”
    “I am,” he murmurs, gently blowing against me.
    “No. I want you inside me.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Please.”
    He doesn’t stop his sweet, exquisite torture. I moan loudly.
    “Christian . . . please.”
    He stands and gazes down at me, and his lips glisten with the evidence of my arousal.
    Holy cow . . .
    “Well?” he asks.
    “Well what?” I pant, staring up at him in frantic need.
    “I’m still dressed.”
    I gape at him in confusion.
    Undress him? Yes, I can do this. I reach for his shirt and he steps back.
    “Oh no,” he admonishes. Shit, he means his jeans.
    Oh, and this gives me an idea. My inner goddess cheers loudly to the rafters, and I drop to my knees in front of him. Rather clumsily and with shaking fingers, I undo his waistband and fly, then yank down his jeans and boxers, and he springs free. Wow.  
    I peek up at him through my lashes, and he’s gazing at me with . . . what? Trepidation? Awe? Surprise?  
    He steps out of his jeans and pulls off his socks, and I take hold of him in my hand and squeeze tightly, pushing my hand back like he’s shown me before. He groans and tenses, and his breath hisses through clenched teeth. Very tentatively, I put him in my mouth and suck—hard. Mmm, he tastes good.
    “Ahh. Ana . . . whoa, gently.”
    He cups my head tenderly, and I push him deeper into my mouth, pressing my lips together as tightly as I can, sheathing my teeth, and sucking hard.
    “Fuck,” he hisses.
    Oh, that’s a good, inspiring, sexy sound, so I do it again, pulling his length deeper, swirling my tongue around the end. Hmm . . . I feel like Aphrodite.
    “Ana, that’s enough. No more.”
    I do it again— Beg, Grey, beg— and again.
    “Ana, you’ve made your point,” he grunts through gritted teeth. “I do not want to come in your mouth.”
    I do it once more, and he bends down, grasps me by my shoulders, hauls me to my feet, and tosses me on the bed. Dragging his shirt over his head, he then reaches down to his discarded jeans, and like a good boy scout, produces a foil packet. He’s panting, like me.
    “Take your bra off,” he orders.
    I sit up and do as I’m told.
    “Lie down. I want to look at you.”
    I lie down, gazing up at him as he slowly rolls the condom on. I want him so badly. He stares down at me and licks his lips.
    “You are a fine sight, Anastasia Steele.” He bends over the bed and slowly crawls up and over me, kissing me as he goes. He kisses each of my breasts and teases my nipples in turn, while I groan and writhe beneath him, and he doesn’t stop.
    No . . . Stop. I want you.
    “Christian, please.”
    “Please what?” he murmurs