Fifty Shades Darker (Fifty Shades 2) - Chapter 116

In a daze I do as I’m told. He pulls both my hands backward and cuffs them to the bar, next to my ankles. Oh… My knees are drawn up, my ass in the air, utterly vulnerable, completely his.

“Ana, you look so beautiful.” His voice is full of wonder, and I hear the rip of foil. He runs his fingers from the base of my spine down toward my sex and pauses a beat over my ass. “When you’re ready, I want this, too.” His finger is hovering over me. I gasp loudly as I feel myself tense under his gentle probing. “Not today, sweet Ana, but one day… I want you every way. I want to possess every inch of you. You’re mine.”

I think about the butt plug, and everything tightens deep inside me. His words make me groan, and his fingers move down and around to more familiar territory.

Moments later, he’s slamming into me. “Aagh! Gently,” I cry, and he stills.

“You okay?”

“Gently… let me get used to this.”

He eases slowly out of me then eases gently back, filling me, stretching me, twice, thrice, and I am helpless.

“Yes, good, I’ve got it now,” I murmur, relishing the feeling.

He groans, and picks up his rhythm. Moving, moving… relentless… onward, inward, filling me… and it’s exquisite. There’s joy in my helplessness, joy in my surrender to him, and to know that he can lose himself in me the way he wants to. I can do this. He takes me to these dark places, places I didn’t know existed, and together we fill them with blinding light. Oh yes… blazing, blinding light.

And I let go, glorying in what he does to me, finding my sweet, sweet release, as I come again, loudly, screaming his name. And he stills, pouring his heart and soul into me.

“Ana, baby,” he cries and collapses beside me.

His fingers deftly undo the straps, and he rubs my ankles then my wrists. When he’s finished and I’m finally free, he pulls me into his arms and I drift, exhausted.

When I surface again, I am curled beside him and he’s gazing at me. I have no idea what the time is.

“I could watch you sleep forever, Ana,” he murmurs and he kisses my forehead.

I smile and shift languorously beside him.

“I never want to let you go,” he says softly and wraps his arms around me.

Hmm. “I never want to go. Never let me go,” I mutter sleepily, my eyelids refusing to open.”I need you,” he whispers, but his voice is a distant, ethereal part of my dreams. He needs me… needs me… and as I finally slip into the darkness, my last thoughts are of a small boy with gray eyes and dirty, messy, copper-colored hair smiling shyly at me.

Chapter Seventeen

Hmm.

Christian is nuzzling my neck as I slowly wake.

“Morning, baby,” he whispers and nips at my earlobe. My eyes flutter open and close again quickly. Bright early morning light floods the room, and his hand is softly caressing my breast, gently teasing me. Moving down he grasps my hip as he lies behind me, holding me close.

I stretch out beside him, relishing his touch, and feel his erection against my behind .

Oh my. A Christian Grey wake-up call.

“You’re pleased to see me,” I mumble sleepily, squirming suggestively against him. I feel his grin against my jaw.

“I’m very pleased to see you,” he says as he skates his hand over my stomach and down to cup my sex and explore with his fingers. “There are definite advantages to waking up beside you, Miss Steele,” he teases and gently pulls me round so that I’m lying on my back.

“Sleep well?” he asks as his fingers continue their sensual torture. He’s smiling down at me – his dazzling, all-American-drop-dead-male-model-perfect-teeth smile. He takes my breath away.

My hips begin to sway to the rhythm of the dance his fingers have begun. He kisses me chastely on the lips and then moves down my neck, nipping slowly, kissing, and sucking as he goes. I moan. He’s gentle and his touch is light and heavenly. His intrepid fingers move down, and slowly he eases one inside me, hissing quietly in awe.

“Oh, Ana,” he murmurs reverentially against my throat. “You’re always ready.” He moves his finger in time with his kisses as his lips journey leisurely across my clavicle and then down to my breast. He torments first one, then the other nipple with teeth and lips, but oh-so-gently, and they tighten and lengthen in sweet response.

I groan.

“Hmm,” he growls softly and raises his head to give me a blazing gray-eyed look. “I want you now.” He reaches over to the bedside table. He shifts on top of me, taking his weight on his elbows, and rubs his nose along mine while easing my legs apart with his. He kneels up and rips open the foil packet.

“I can’t wait until Saturday,” he says, his eyes glowing with salacious delight.

“Your party?” I pant.

“No. I can stop using these f**kers.”

“Aptly named.” I giggle.

He smirks at me as he rolls on the condom. “Are you giggling, Miss Steele?”

“No.” I try and fail to straighten my face.

“Now is not the time for giggling.” He shakes his head in admonishment and his voice is low, stern, but his expression –  holy cow – is glacial and volcanic at once.

My breath catches in my throat. “I thought you liked it when I giggle,” I whisper hoarsely, gazing into the dark depths of his stormy eyes.

“Not now. There’s a time and a place for giggling. This is neither. I need to stop you, and I think I know how,” he says ominously, and his body covers mine.

“What would you like for breakfast, Ana?”

“I’ll just have some granola. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.”

I flush as I take my place at the breakfast bar beside Christian. The last time I set eyes on the very prim and proper Mrs. Jones, I was being unceremoniously dragged into the bedroom over Christian’s shoulder.