Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

when his fingers find their goal.
    “Always so ready, Miss Steele,” he whispers as he slips a long finger inside me. I squirm and gasp. How can he do this with all these people here?
    “Keep still and quiet,” he warns, murmuring in my ear.
    I’m flushed, warm, wanting, trapped in an elevator with seven people, six of them oblivious to what’s occurring in the corner. His finger slides in and out of me, again and again. My breathing. Jeez, it’s embarrassing. I want to tell him to stop . . . and continue . . . and stop. I sag against him, and he tightens his arm around me, his erection against my hip.
    We halt again at the forty-fourth floor. Oh . . . how long is this torture going to continue? In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . . Subtly I grind myself against his persistent finger. After all this time of not touching me, he chooses now! Here! And it makes me feel so—wanton.
    “Hush,” he breathes, seemingly unaffected as yet two more people come aboard. The elevator is getting crowded. Christian moves us both farther back so that we’re now pressed into the corner, holding me in place and torturing me further. He nuzzles my hair. I’m sure we look like a young couple in love, canoodling in the corner, if anyone could be bothered to turn round and see what we’re doing . . . And he eases a second finger inside me.
    Fuck ! I groan, and I’m thankful that the gaggle of people in front of us are still chatting away, totally oblivious.
    Oh, Christian, what you do to me. I lean my head against his chest, closing my eyes and surrendering to his unrelenting fingers.
    “Don’t come,” he whispers. “I want that later.” He splays his hand out on my belly, pressing down slightly, as he continues his sweet persecution. The feeling is exquisite.
    Finally the elevator reaches the first floor. With a loud ping the doors open, and almost instantly the passengers start exiting. Christian slowly slips his fingers out of me and kisses the back of my head. I glance round at him, and he smiles, then nods again at Mr. Badly-fitted-brown-suit who returns his nod of acknowledgment as he shuffles out of the elevator with his wife. I barely notice, concentrating instead on staying upright and trying to manage my panting. Jeez, I feel aching and bereft. Christian releases me, leaving me to stand on my own two feet without leaning on him.
    Turning, I gaze up at him. He looks cool and unruffled, his usual composed self. Hmm . . . This is so not fair.
    “Ready?” he asks. His eyes gleam wickedly as he slips first his index, then his middle finger into his mouth and sucks on them. “Mighty fine, Miss Steele,” he whispers. I nearly convulse on the spot.
    “I can’t believe you just did that,” I murmur, and I’m practically coming apart at the seams.
    “You’d be surprised what I can do, Miss Steele,” he says. Reaching out, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, a slight smile betraying his amusement.
    “I want to get you home, but maybe we’ll only make it as far as the car.” He grins down at me as he takes my hand and leads me out of the elevator.
    What! Sex in the car ? Can’t we just do it here on the cool marble of the lobby floor . . . please?
    “Come.”
    “Yes, I want to.”
    “Miss Steele!” he admonishes me with mock-amused horror.
    “I’ve never had sex in a car,” I mumble. Christian halts and places those same fingers under my chin, tipping my head back and glaring down at me.
    “I’m very pleased to hear that. I have to say I’d be very surprised, not to say mad, if you had.”
    I flush, blinking up at him. Of course, I’ve only had sex with him. I frown at him.
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    “What did you mean?” His tone is unexpectedly harsh.
    “Christian, it was just an expression.”
    “The famous expression, ‘I’ve never had sex in a car.’ Yes, it just trips off the tongue.”
    Jeez . . . what’s his problem ?
    “Christian, I wasn’t thinking. For heaven’s sake, you’ve just . . . um, done that to me in an elevator full of people. My wits are scattered.”
    He raises his eyebrows. “What did I do to you?” he challenges.
    I scowl at him. He wants me to say it.
    “You turned me on, big time. Now take me home and fuck me.”
    His mouth drops open then he laughs, surprised. Now he looks young and carefree. Oh, to hear him laugh. I love it because it’s so rare.
    “You’re a born romantic, Miss Steele.” He takes my