Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

of going to Europe,” he says softly. “I want to make your dreams come true, Anastasia.”
    “You are my dreams come true, Christian.”
    “Back at you, Mrs. Grey,” he whispers.
    Oh my . . .
    “Buckle up.”
    I grin and do as I’m told.
    As the plane taxis out on to the runway, we sip our champagne, grinning inanely at each other. I can’t believe it. At twenty-two years old, I’m finally leaving the United States and going to Europe—to London of all places.
    Once we’re airborne, Natalia serves us yet more champagne and prepares our wedding feast. And what a feast it is—smoked salmon, followed by roast partridge with a green bean salad and dauphinoise potatoes, all cooked and served by the ever-efficient Natalia.
    “Dessert, Mr. Grey?” she asks.
    He shakes his head and runs his finger across his bottom lip as he looks questioningly at me, his expression dark and unreadable.
    “No, thank you,” I murmur, unable to break eye contact with him. His lips curl up in a small, secret smile and Natalia retreats.
    “Good,” he murmurs. “I’d rather planned on having you for dessert.”
    Oh . . . here?
    “Come,” he says, rising from the table and offering me his hand. He leads me to the back of the cabin.
    “There’s a bathroom here.” He points to a small door then leads me on down a short corridor and through a door at the end.
    Jeez . . . a bedroom. The cabin is cream and maple wood and the small double bed is covered in gold and taupe cushions. It looks very comfortable.
    Christian turns and pulls me into his arms, gazing down at me.
    “I thought we’d spend our wedding night at thirty-five-thousand feet. It’s something I’ve never done before.”
    Holy cow . . . another first. I gape at him, my heart pounding . . . the mile high club. I’ve heard about this.
    “But first I have to get you out of this fabulous dress.” His eyes glow with love and something darker, something I love . . . something that calls to my inner goddess. He takes my breath away.
    “Turn around.” His voice is low, authoritative, and sexy as hell. How can he infuse so much promise into those two words? Willingly I comply and his hands move to my hair. Gently he pulls out each hairpin one at a time, his expert fingers making short work of the task. My hair falls in swathes over my shoulders, one lock at a time, covering my back and down to my breasts. I try to stand still and not squirm, but I’m aching for his touch. After our long, tiring but exciting day, I want him—all of him.
    “You have such beautiful hair, Ana.” His mouth is close to my ear and I feel his breath, though his lips don’t touch me. When my hair is free of pins, he runs his fingers through it, gently massaging my scalp . . . oh my . . . I close my eyes and savor the sensation. His fingers travel on down, and he tugs, tilting my head back to expose my throat.
    “You’re mine,” he breathes and his teeth tug my ear lobe.
    I groan.
    “Hush now,” he admonishes. He sweeps my hair over my shoulder and trails a finger across the top of my back from shoulder to shoulder following the lace edge of my dress. I shiver in anticipation. He plants a tender kiss on my back above the first button on my dress.
    “So beautiful,” he says as he deftly undoes the first button. “You have made me the happiest man alive today.” With infinite slowness, he unfastens each one, all the way down my back. “I love you so much.” Trailing kisses from the nape of my neck to the edge of my shoulder. Between each kiss he murmurs, “I. Want. You. So. Much. I. Want. To. Be. Inside. You. You. Are. Mine.”
    Each word is intoxicating. I close my eyes and tilt my head, giving him easier access to my neck, and I fall further under the spell that is Christian Grey, my husband.
    “Mine,” he whispers once more. He peels my dress down my arms so that it pools at my feet in a cloud of ivory silk and lace.
    “Turn around,” he whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse. I do so and he gasps.
    I’m dressed in a tight, blush-pink satin corset with garter straps, matching lacy briefs, and white silk stockings. Christian’s eyes travel greedily down my body, but he says nothing. He just gazes at me, his eyes wide with want.
    “You like?” I whisper aware of the shy blush creeping across my cheeks.
    “More than like, baby. You look sensational. Here.” He holds out his hand and taking it, I step out of my dress.
    “Keep still,” he