positions himself beneath me, and very slowly, eases me on to him.
I groan as he stretches me open, filling me, my mouth hanging open in surprise at the sweet, sublime, agonizing, over-full feeling.
“That’s right, baby, feel me, all of me,” he growls and briefly closes his eyes.
And he’s inside me, sheathed to the hilt, and he holds me in place, for seconds… minutes… I have no idea,, staring intently into my eyes.
“It’s deep this way,” he murmurs. He flexes and swivels his hips in the same motion, and I groan… oh my – the sensation radiates throughout my belly… everywhere.
“Again,” I whisper. He grins a lazy grin and obliges.
Moaning, I throw my head back, my hair tumbling down my back, and very slowly, he sinks back down on to the bed.
“You move, Anastasia, up and down, how you want. Take my hands,” he breathes, his voice hoarse and low and oh so sexy.
I clasp his hands, holding on for life. Gently I push off him and back down,
I am fucking him. I am in charge. He’s mine, and I’m his. The thought pushes me, weighted with concrete, over the edge, and I climax around him… shouting incoherently.
He grabs my hips, and closing his eyes, tipping his head back, his jaw strained, he comes quietly. I collapse on to his chest, overwhelmed, somewhere between fantasy and reality, a place where there are no hard or soft limits.
Slowly the outside world invades my senses, and oh my, what an invasion. I am floating, my limbs soft and languid, utterly spent. I’m lying on top of him, my head on his chest, and he smells divine: fresh, laundered linen and some expensive body wash, and the best, most seductive scent on the planet… Christian. I don’t want to move, I want to breathe this elixir for eternity. I nuzzle him, wishing I didn’t have the barrier of his t-shirt. And as rhyme and reason return to the rest of my body, I stretch my hand out on his chest. This is the first time I’ve touched him here. He’s firm… strong. His hand swoops up and grabs mine, but he softens the blow by pulling it to his mouth and sweetly kissing my knuckles.
He rolls over so he’s gazing down at me.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, then kisses me lightly.
“Why don’t you like to be touched?” I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes.
“Because I’m fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia.”
Oh… his honesty is completely disarming. I blink up at him.
“I had a very tough introduction to life. I don’t want to burden you with the details.
Just don’t.” He strokes his nose against mine, and then he pulls out of me and sits up.
“I think that’s all the very basics covered. How was that?”
He looks thoroughly pleased with himself and sounds very matter-of-fact at the same time, like he’s just marked another tick box in a checklist. I’m still reeling from the tough introduction to life comment. It’s so frustrating – I am desperate to know more. But he won’t tell me. I cock my head to one side, like he does, and make an enormous effort to smile at him.
“If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well you haven’t taken into account my GPA.” I smile shyly at him. “But thank you for the illusion.”
“Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. You’ve had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me,” he boasts, playful again.
I flush and blink at the same time, as he stares down at me.
“Do you have something to tell me?” his voice is suddenly stern.
I frown
“I had a dream this morning.”
“Oh?” He glares at me.
“I came in my sleep.” I throw my arm over my eyes. He says nothing. I peek up at him from under my arm, and he looks amused.
“In your sleep?”
“Woke me up.”
“I’m sure it did. What were you dreaming about?”
“You.”
“What was I doing?”
