Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

he says, his voice strained.
    “Yes,” I murmur with longing. He undoes his fly, as I lie panting on the table, knowing that he’s going to be rough.  
    I marvel once more at how I have managed—and yes, enjoyed— what he’s done to me up to this point. It’s so dark but so him.  
    He eases two fingers inside me and moves them in a circular motion. The feeling is exquisite. Closing my eyes, I revel in the sensation. I hear the telltale rip of foil, then he’s standing behind me, between my legs, pushing them wider.
    Slowly he sinks into me, filling me. I hear his groan of pure pleasure, and it stirs my soul. He grasps my hips firmly, eases out of me again, and this time slams back into me, causing me to cry out. He stills for a moment.
    “Again?” he asks softly.
    “Yes . . . I’m fine. Lose yourself . . . take me with you,” I murmur breathlessly.
    He moans low in his throat, eases out of me once more, then slams into me, and repeats this over and over slowly, deliberately—a punishing, brutal, heavenly rhythm.
    Oh fucking my . . . My insides begin to quicken. He feels it, too, and increases the rhythm, pushing me, higher, harder, faster—and I surrender, exploding around him—a draining, soul-grabbing orgasm that leaves me spent and exhausted.  
    I’m vaguely aware that Christian, too, is letting go, calling my name, his fingers digging into my hips, and then he stills and collapses on me. We sink to the floor, and he cradles me in his arms.
    “Thank you, baby,” he breathes, covering my upturned face in soft feather-light kisses. I open my eyes and gaze up at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me.
    “Your cheek is pink from the baize,” he murmurs, rubbing my face tenderly. “How was that?” His eyes are wide and cautious.
    “Teeth-clenchingly good,” I mutter. “I like it rough, Christian, and I like it gentle, too. I like that it’s with you.”
    He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter.
    Jeez, I’m tired .
    “You never fail, Ana. You are beautiful, bright, challenging, fun, sexy, and I thank divine providence every day that it was you that came to interview me and not Katherine Kavanagh.” He kisses my hair. I smile and yawn against his chest. “I’m wearing you out,” he continues. “Come. Bath, then bed.”

    We are both in Christian’s bath, facing each other chin-deep in foam, the sweet scent of jasmine enveloping us. Christian is massaging my feet, one at a time. It feels so good it should be illegal.
    “Can I ask you something?” I murmur.
    “Of course. Anything, Ana, you know that.”
    I take a deep breath and sit up, flinching only slightly.
    “Tomorrow—when I go to work—can Sawyer just deliver me to the front door of the office then pick me up at the end of the day? Please, Christian. Please,” I plead.
    His hands still as his brow creases. “I thought we agreed,” he grumbles.
    “Please,” I beg.
    “What about lunchtime?”
    “I’ll make myself something to take from here so I don’t have to go out, please.”
    He kisses my instep. “I find it very difficult to say no to you,” he mutters as if he senses this is a failing on his part. “You won’t go out?”
    “No.”
    “Okay.”
    I beam at him. “Thank you.” I lean up onto my knees, sloshing water everywhere, and kiss him.
    “You’re most welcome, Miss Steele. How’s your behind?”
    “Sore. But not too bad. The water is soothing.”
    “I’m glad you told me to stop,” he says, gazing at me.
    “So is my behind.”
    He grins.

    I stretch out in bed, so tired. It’s only ten thirty, but it feels like three in the morning. This has to be one of the most exhausting weekends of my life.
    “Didn’t Ms. Acton provide any nightwear?” Christian asks, his voice laced with disapproval as he stares down at me.
    “I have no idea. I like wearing your T-shirts,” I mumble sleepily.
    His face softens, and he leans over and kisses my forehead.
    “I need to work. But I don’t want to leave you alone. Can I use your laptop to log in to the office? Will I disturb you if I work from here?”
    “S’not my laptop.” I drift.

    The alarm clicks on, startling me awake with the traffic news. Christian is still asleep beside me. Rubbing my eyes, I glance at the clock. Six thirty—too early.  
    It’s raining outside for the first time in ages, and the light is muted and mellow. I’m cozy and comfortable in this vast modern monolith with Christian at my side. I stretch and