Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades 3) - Chapter 89

“You won’t be needing this in the bath,” he whispers, and gripping the hem of my T-shirt in both hands, slowly pulls it up. “Lift your arms.”

I comply, not taking my eyes off his, and he drops my T-shirt on the floor.

“I thought we were just having a bath.” My pulse quickens.

“I want to make you good and dirty first. I’ve missed you, too.” He leans down and kisses me.

“Shit, the water!” I struggle to sit up, all post-orgasmic and dazed. Christian doesn’t release me.

“Christian, the bath!” I gaze down at him from my prone position across his chest.

He laughs. “Relax – it’s a wet room.” He rolls over and kisses me quickly. “I’ll switch off the faucet.”

He climbs gracefully off the bed and strolls into the bathroom. My eyes greedily follow him all the way. Hmm . . . my husband, naked and soon to be wet. My inner goddess licks her lips salaciously and gives me her well-fucked grin. I bound out of bed.

We sit at opposite ends of the bath, which is very full – so full that whenever we move, water laps over the side and splashes to the floor. It’s very decadent. Even more decadent is Christian washing my feet, massaging the soles, pulling gently on my toes. He kisses each one and gently bites my little toe.

“Aaah!” I feel it – there, in my groin.

“Like that?” he breathes.

“Hmm,” I mumble incoherently.

He starts massaging again. Oh, this feels good. I close my eyes.

“I saw Gia in town,” I murmur.

“Really? I think she has a place here,” he says dismissively. He’s not interested in the slightest.

“She was with Elliot.”

Christian stops massaging. That got his attention. When I open my eyes his head is inclined to one side, like he doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean with Elliot?” he asks, perplexed rather than concerned.

I explain what I saw.

“Ana, they’re just friends. I think Elliot is pretty stuck on Kate.” He pauses then adds more quietly. “In fact I know he’s pretty stuck on her.” And he gives me his I-have-no-idea-why look.

“Kate is gorgeous.” I bristle, championing my friend. He snorts. “Still glad it was you that fell into my office.” He kisses my big toe, releases my left foot and picks up my right, beginning the massage process again. His fingers are so strong and supple, I relax again. I do not want to fight about Kate. I close my eyes and let his fingers work their magic on my feet.

I gape at myself in the full-length mirror, not recognizing the vixen that stares back at me. Kate has gone all out and played Barbie with me this evening, styling my hair and makeup. My hair is full and straight, my eyes ringed with kohl, my lips scarlet red. I look . . . hot. I’m all legs, especially in the high-heeled Manolos and my plainly indecent short dress. I need Christian to approve, though I have a horrible feeling he won’t like so much of my flesh exposed. In view of our entente cordiale, I decide I should ask him. I pick up my BlackBerry, as I doubt he’ll hear me from upstairs.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Does My Butt Look Big In This?

Date: August 27, 2011 18:53 MST

To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey

I need your sartorial advice.

Yours

Mrs. G x

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Peachy

Date: August 27, 2011 18:55 MST

To: Anastasia Grey

Mrs. Grey

I seriously doubt it.

But I will come and give your butt a thorough examination just to make sure.

Yours in anticipation

Mr. G x

Christian Grey,

CEO Grey Enterprises Holdings and Butt Inspectorate Inc.

As I read his e-mail, the bedroom door opens and Christian freezes on the threshold. His mouth pops open and his eyes widen. Holy crap . . . this could go either way.

“Well?” I whisper.

“Ana, you look . . . Wow.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I guess so.” He’s a little hoarse. Slowly he steps into the room and closes the door. He’s wearing black jeans and a white shirt, but with a black jacket . . . he looks divine. He stalks slowly toward me, but as soon as he reaches me, he puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face the full-length mirror, while he stands behind me. My gaze finds his in the glass, then he glances down, fascinated by my naked back. His finger glides down my spine and reaches the edge of my dress at the small of my back, where pale flesh meets silver cloth.

“This is very revealing,” he murmurs.

His hand skims lower, over my backside and down to my naked thigh. He pauses, gray eyes burning intently into blue. Then slowly he trails his fingers back up to the hem of my skirt.

Watching his long fingers move lightly, teasingly across my skin, feeling the tingles they leave in their wake, my mouth forms a perfect O.

“It’s not far from here.” He touches the hem, then moves his fingers higher. “To here,” he whispers. I gasp as his fingers stroke my sex, moving tantalizingly over my panties, feeling me, teasing me.

“And your point is?” I whisper.

“My point is . . . it’s not far from here” – his fingers glide over my panties, then one is inside, against my soft dampened flesh – “to here. And then . . . to here.” He slips a finger inside me. I gasp and make a soft mewling sound.

“This is mine,” he murmurs in my ear. Closing his eyes he moves his finger slowly in and out of me. “I don’t want anyone else to see this.”

My breath stutters, my panting matching the rhythm of his finger. Watching him in the mirror, doing this . . . it’s beyond erotic.

“So be a good girl and don’t bend down, and you should be fine.”

“You approve?” I whisper.