Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

sheets.
    “Now then.” He licks his bottom lip slowly. “You’re biting that lip, Anastasia. You know the effect it has on me.” He places his long index finger over my mouth, a warning.
    Oh my. I can barely contain myself, lying helpless, watching him move gracefully around my room. It’s a heady aphrodisiac. Slowly, almost leisurely, he removes his shoes and socks, undoes his pants, and lifts his shirt off over his head.
    “I think you’ve seen too much,” he chuckles slyly. He sits astride me again, pulls my t-shirt up, and I think he’s going to take it off me, but he rolls it up to my neck and then pulls it up over my head so he can see my mouth and my nose, but it covers my eyes. And because it’s folded over – I cannot see a thing through it.
    “Mmm,” he breathes appreciatively. “This just gets better and better. I’m going to get a drink.”
    Leaning down, he kisses me, his lips tender against mine, and his weight shifts off the bed. I hear the quiet creak of the bedroom door. Get a drink. Where? Here? Portland? Seattle? I strain to hear him. I can make out low rumblings, and I know he’s talking to Kate – oh no… he’s practically naked. What’s she going to say? I hear a faint popping sound. What’s that? He returns, the door creaking once more, his feet padding across the bedroom floor, and ice tinkling against glass as it swirls in liquid. What kind of drink? He shuts the door and shuffles around removing his pants. They drop to the floor, and I know he’s naked. He sits astride me again.
    “Are you thirsty, Anastasia?” he asks, his voice teasing
    “Yes,” I breathe, because my mouth is suddenly parched. I hear the ice clink against the glass, and he puts it down again and leans down and kisses me, pouring a delicious crisp liquid into my mouth as he does. It’s white wine. It’s so unexpected, hot , though it’s chilled, and Christian’s lips are cool.
    “More?” he whispers.
    I nod. It tastes all the more divine because it’s been in his mouth. He leans down, and I drink another mouthful from his lips… oh my.
    “Let’s not go too far; we know your capacity for alcohol is limited, Anastasia.”
    I can’t help it. I grin, and he leans down to deliver another delicious mouthful. He shifts so he’s lying beside me, his erection at my hip. Oh, I want him inside me.
    “Is this nice ?” he asks, but I hear the edge in his voice.
    I tense. He moves the glass again and leans down, kissing me and depositing a small shard of ice in my mouth with a little wine. He slowly and leisurely trails chilled kisses down the center of my body, from the base of my throat, between my breasts, down my torso, and to my belly. He pops a fragment of ice in my navel in a pool of cool, cold wine. It burns all the way down to the depths of my belly. Wow.
    “Now you have to keep still,” he whispers. “If you move, Anastasia, you’ll get wine all over the bed.”
    My hips flex automatically.
    “Oh no. If you spill the wine, I will punish you, Miss Steele.”
    I groan and desperately fight the urge to tilt my hips, pulling on my restraint. Oh no… please.
    With one finger, he pulls down my bra cups in turn, my breasts pushed up, exposed and vulnerable. Leaning down, he kisses and tugs at each of my nipples in turn with cool, cold lips. I fight my body as it tries to arch in response.
    “How nice is this?” he breathes, blowing on one of my nipples.
    I hear another clink of ice, and then I can feel it round my right nipple as he tugs the left one with his lips. I moan, struggling not to move. It’s sweet, agonizing torture.
    “If you spill the wine, I won’t let you come.”
    “Oh… please… Christian… Sir… Please.” He’s driving me insane. I hear him smile.
    The ice in my navel is melting. I am beyond warm – warm and chilled and wanting. Wanting him, inside me. Now.
    His cool fingers trail languidly across my belly. My skin is oversensitive, my hips flex automatically, and the now warmer liquid from my navel seeps over my belly. Christian moves quickly, lapping it up with his tongue, kissing, biting me softly, sucking.
    “Oh dear, Anastasia, you moved. What am I going to do to you?”
    I’m panting loudly. All I can concentrate on is his voice and his touch. Nothing else is real. Nothing else matters, nothing else registers on my radar. His fingers slip into my panties, and I’m rewarded with his unguarded sharp intake of air.
    “Oh, baby,” he murmurs and he