Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

turning to Jell-O. This is comfortable. Hell no . . . this is wonderful. I savor the moment, a moment of peace, a moment of pure and utter contentment. I should feel guilty for feeling this joy, this completeness, but I don’t. Life right here right now is good, and I’ve learned to appreciate it and live in the moment like my husband. I smile and squirm as my mind drifts to the delicious memory of last night at our home in Escala . . .

    The strands of the flogger skim across my swollen belly at an aching, languorous pace.
    “Have you had enough yet, Ana?” Christian whispers in my ear.
    “Oh, please.” I beg, pulling on the restraints above my head as I stand blindfolded and tethered to the grid in the playroom.
    The flogger’s sweet sting bites into my behind.
    “Please what?”
    I gasp. “Please, Sir.”
    Christian places his hand over my ringing skin and rubs gently.
    “There. There. There.” His words are soft. His hand moves south and around, and his fingers slide inside me.
    I groan.
    “Mrs. Grey,” he breathes, and his teeth pull on my earlobe. “You’re so ready.”
    His fingers slide in and out of me, hitting that spot, that sweet, sweet spot again. The flogger clatters onto the floor and his hand moves over my belly and up to my breasts. I tense. They are sensitive.
    “Hush,” Christian says, cupping one, and he gently brushes his thumb over my nipple.
    “Ah.”
    His fingers are gentle and enticing, and pleasure spirals out from my breast, down, down . . . deep down. I tilt my head back, pushing my nipple into his palm, and moan once more.
    “I like to hear you,” Christian whispers. His erection is at my hip, the buttons of his fly pressing into my flesh as his fingers continue their relentless assault: in, out, in, out—keeping a rhythm. “Shall I make you come like this?” he asks.
    “No.”
    His fingers stop moving inside me.
    “Really, Mrs. Grey? Is it up to you?” His fingers tighten around my nipple.
    “No . . . No, Sir.”
    “That’s better.”
    “Ah. Please,” I beg.
    “What do you want, Anastasia?”
    “You. Always.”
    He inhales sharply.
    “All of you,” I add, breathless.
    He eases his fingers out of me, pulls me around to face him, and removes the blindfold. I blink up into darkening gray eyes that burn into mine. His index fingers trace my bottom lip, and he pushes his index and middle fingers into my mouth, letting me taste the salty tang of my arousal.
    “Suck,” he whispers. I swirl my tongue around and between his fingers.
    Hmm . . . even I taste good on his fingers.
    His hands skim up my arms to the cuffs above my head, and he unclips them, freeing me. Turning me around so I’m facing the wall, he tugs on my braid, pulling me into his arms. He angles my head to one side and skims his lips up my throat to my ear while holding me flush against him.
    “I want in your mouth.” His voice is soft and seductive. My body, ripe and ready, clenches deep inside. The pleasure is sweet and sharp.
    I moan. Turning to face him, I pull his head down to mine and kiss him hard, my tongue invading his mouth, tasting and savoring him. He groans, places his hands on my behind and tugs me against him, but only my pregnant belly touches him. I bite his jaw and trail kisses down his throat and run my fingers down to his jeans. He tilts his head back, exposing more of his throat to me, and I run my tongue down to his chest and through his chest hair.
    “Ah.”
    I tug the waistband of his jeans, the buttons popping, and he grasps my shoulders as I sink to my knees in front of him.
    As I gaze up at him through my lashes, he stares down at me. His eyes are dark, his lips parted, and he inhales deeply when I free him and ensnare him with my mouth. I love doing this to Christian. Watching him come apart, hearing his breath hitch, and the soft moans he makes deep in his throat. I close my eyes and suck hard, pressing down on him, relishing his taste and his breathless gasp.
    He grasps my head, stilling me, and I sheath my teeth with my lips and push him deeper into my mouth.
    “Open your eyes and look at me,” he orders, his voice low.
    Blazing eyes meet mine and he flexes his hips, filling my mouth to the back of my throat then withdrawing quickly. He pushes into me again and I reach up to grab him. He stops and holds me in place.
    “Don’t touch or I’ll cuff you again. I just want your mouth,” he growls.
    Oh my. Like that is it? I put my hands behind