Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

stops and looks down at me.
    “Did you take your pill?”
    “Yes.” How mortifying is this?
    “Let’s go have a bath.”
    Oh?
    He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. It’s dominated by a super-king-size bed with elaborate drapes. But we don’t stop there. He takes me into the bathroom which is two rooms, all aquamarines and white limestone. It’s huge. In the second room a sunken bath, big enough for four people with stone steps that lead into it is slowly filling with water. Steam rises gently above the foam, and I notice a stone seat all the way round. Candles flicker to the side. Wow… he’s done all this while on the phone.
    “Do you have a hair tie?”
    I blink at him, fish into my jeans pocket, and pull out a hair elastic.
    “Put your hair up,” he orders softly. I do as he asks.
    It’s warm and sultry beside the bath and my camisole starts to stick. He leans over and shuts off the faucet. Leading me back into the first part of the bathroom, he stands behind me as we face the wall-sized mirror above the two glass sinks.
    “Lift up your arms,” he breathes. I do as I’m told, and he lifts my camisole over my head so that I’m topless standing in front of him. Not taking his eyes off mine, he reaches around and undoes the top button on my jeans and the zipper.
    “I’m going to have you in the bathroom, Anastasia.”
    Leaning down, he kisses my neck. I move my head to one side and give him easier access. Hooking his thumbs into my jeans, he slowly slides them down my legs, sinking down behind me as he pulls them and my panties to the floor.
    “Step out of your jeans.”
    Grasping the edge of the sink, I do just that. I am now naked, staring at myself, and he’s kneeling behind me. He kisses and then softly bites my behind, making me gasp. He stands and stares at me once more in the mirror. I try hard to stay still, ignoring my natural inclination to cover myself. He splays his hand across my belly, the span of his hand almost reaching from hip to hip.
    “Look at you. You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “See how you feel.” He clasps both my hands in his, his palms against the backs of my hands, his fingers in between mine so that my fingers are splayed. He places my hands on my belly. “Feel how soft your skin is.” His voice is soft and low. He moves my hands in a slow circle then upwards toward my breasts. “Feel how full your breasts are.” He holds my hands so that they cup my breasts. He gently strokes my nipples with his thumbs over and over.
    I moan between parted lips and arch my back so my breasts fill my palms. He squeezes my nipples between our thumbs, pulling gently so that they elongate further. I watch in fascination at the wanton creature writhing in front of me. Oh, this feels good. I groan and close my eyes, no longer wanting to see that libidinous woman in the mirror falling apart under her own hands… his hands… feeling my skin as he would, experiencing how arousing it is – just his touch, and his calm, soft commands.
    “That’s right, baby,” he murmurs.
    He guides my hands down the sides of my body, past my waist to my hips, and across to my pubic hair. He slides his leg in between mine, pushing my feet further apart, widening my stance, and runs my hands over my sex, one hand at a time in turn, setting up a rhythm. It is so erotic. Truly I am a marionette and he is the master puppeteer.
    “Look at you glow, Anastasia,” he whispers as he trails kisses and soft bites along my shoulder. I groan. Suddenly he lets go.
    “Carry on,” he orders, and stands back watching me.
    I rub myself. No. I want him to do it. It doesn’t feel the same. I’m lost without him. He pulls his shirt over his head and quickly takes off his jeans.
    “You’d rather I do this?” His gray gaze scorches mine in the mirror.
    “Oh yes… please,” I breathe.
    He wraps his arms around me again and takes my hands once more, continuing the sensual caress across my sex, over my clitoris. His chest hair scrapes against me, his erection presses against me. Oh soon… please. He bites the nape of my neck, and I close my eyes, enjoying the myriad of sensations: my neck, my groin… the feel of him behind me. He stops abruptly and spins me around, circling my wrists with one hand, imprisoning my hands behind me, and pulling at my ponytail with the other. I am flush against him, and he kisses me wildly, ravaging my mouth with his. Holding me in place.
    His breathing is ragged,