Fifty Shades Darker Part 73

"How should I behave?"

His brow creases. "However you want to."

Oh!

"Were you expecting my alter ego, Anastasia?" he asks, his tone vaguely mocking and bemused at once. I blink at him.

"Well, yes. I like him," I murmur. He smiles his private smile and reaches up to run his thumb down my cheek.

"Do you now," he breathes and runs his thumb across my lower lip. "I'm your lover, Anastasia, not your Dom. I love to hear your laugh and your girlish giggle. I like you re- laxed and happy, like you are in Jose's photos. That's the girl that fell into my offce. That's the girl I fell in love with."

Holy cow. My mouth drops open, and a welcome warmth blooms in my heart. It's joy-pure joy.

"But having said all that, I also like to do rude things to you, Miss Steele; and my alter ego knows a trick or two. So, do as you're told and turn around." His eyes glint wickedly, and the joy moves sharply south, seizing me tightly and gripping every sinew below my waist. I do as I'm told. Behind me, he opens one of the drawers and a moment later he's in front of me again."Come," he orders and tugs on the tie, leading me to the table. As we walk past the couch, I notice for the frst time that all the canes have vanished. It distracts me. Were they there yesterday when I came in? I don't remember. Did Christian move them? Mrs. Jones?

Christian interrupts my train of thought.

"I want you to kneel up on this," he says when we're at the table.

Oh, okay. What does he have in mind? My inner G.o.ddess can't wait to fnd out-she's already scissor-kicked onto the table and is watching him with adoration.

He gently lifts me onto the table, and I fold my legs beneath me and kneel in front of him, surprised by my own grace. Now we are eye to eye. He runs his hands down my thighs, grasps my knees, and pulls my legs apart and stands directly in front of me. He looks very serious, his eyes darker, hooded ... l.u.s.tful.

"Arms behind your back. I'm going to cuff you."

He produces some leather cuffs from his back pocket and reaches around me. This is it. Where's he going to take me this time?

His proximity is intoxicating. This man is going to be my husband. Can one l.u.s.t after one's husband like this? I don't remember reading about that anywhere. I can't resist him, and I run my parted lips along his jaw, feeling the stubble, a heady combination of p.r.i.c.kly and soft, under my tongue. He stills and closes his eyes. His breathing falters and he pulls back.

"Stop. Or this will be over far quicker than either of us wants," he warns. For a mo- ment, I think he might be angry but then he smiles, and his heated eyes are alight with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You're irresistible," I pout.

"Am I now?" he says dryly.

I nod.

"Well-don't distract me, or I'll gag you."

"I like distracting you," I whisper, looking mulishly at him, and he c.o.c.ks his eyebrow at me.

"Or spank you."

Oh! I try to hide my smile. There was a time, not very long ago, when I would have been subdued by this threat. I would never have had the nerve to kiss him, unbidden, while he was in this room. I realize now, I'm no longer intimidated by him. It's a revelation. I grin mischievously, and he smirks at me.

"Behave," he growls and stands back, gazing at me and slaps the leather cuffs across his palm. And the warning is there, implicit in his actions. I try for contrite, and I think I succeed. He approaches me again.

"That's better," he breathes and leans behind me once more with the cuffs. I resist touching him but inhale his glorious Christian scent, still fresh from last night's shower.

Hmm ... I should bottle this.

I expect him to cuff my wrists, but he attaches each cuff above my elbows. It makes me arch my back, pus.h.i.+ng my b.r.e.a.s.t.s forward, though my elbows are by no means together.

When he's fnished, he stands back to admire me.

"Feel okay?" he asks. It's not the most comfortable of positions, but I'm so wired with antic.i.p.ation to see where he's going with this that I nod, weak with wanting."Good." He pulls the mask from his back pocket.

"I think you've seen enough now," he murmurs. He slides the mask over my head, covering my eyes. My breathing spikes. Wow. Why is not being able to see so erotic? I am here, trussed up and kneeling on a table, waiting-sweet antic.i.p.ation hot and heavy deep in my belly. I can still hear, though, and the melodic steady beat of the track continues. It resonates through my body. I hadn't noticed before. He must have it on repeat.

Christian steps away. What is he doing? He moves back to the chest and opens a draw- er, then closes it again. A moment later he's back, and I sense him in front of me. There's a pungent, rich, musky scent in the air. It's delicious, almost mouth-watering.

"I don't want to ruin my favorite tie," he murmurs. It slowly unravels as he undoes it.

I inhale sharply as the tail of the tie travels up my body, tickling me in its wake. Ruin his tie? I listen acutely to determine what he's going to do. He's rubbing his hands together.

His knuckles suddenly brush over my cheek, down to my jaw following my jawline.

My body leaps to attention as his touch sends a delicious s.h.i.+ver through me. His hand fexes over my neck, and it's slick with sweet-smelling oil so his hand glides smoothly down my throat, across my clavicle, and up to my shoulder, his fngers kneading gently as they go. Oh, I'm getting a ma.s.sage. Not what I expected.

He places his other hand on my other shoulder and begins another slow teasing journey across my clavicle. I groan softly as he works his way down toward my increasingly aching b.r.e.a.s.t.s, aching for his touch. It's tantalizing. I arch my body further into his deft touch, but his hands glide to my sides, slow, measured, in time to the beat of the music, and studiously avoid my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I groan, but I don't know if it's from pleasure or frustration.

"You are so beautiful, Ana," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, his mouth next to my ear. His nose follows along my jaw as he continues to ma.s.sage me-beneath my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, across my belly, down ... He kisses me feetingly on my lips, then he runs his nose down my neck, my throat. Holy cow, I'm on fre ... his nearness, his hands, his words.

"And soon you'll be my wife to have and to hold," he whispers.

Oh my.

"To love and to cherish."

Jeez.

"With my body, I will wors.h.i.+p you."

I tip my head back and moan. His fngers run through my pubic hair, over my s.e.x, and he rubs the palm of his hand against my c.l.i.toris.

"Mrs. Grey," he whispers as his palm works against me.

I groan.

"Yes," he breathes as his palm continues to tease me. "Open your mouth."

My mouth is already open from panting. I open wider, and he slips a large cool metal object between my lips. Shaped like an oversized baby's pacifer, it has small grooves or carvings, and what feels like a chain at the end. It's big.

"Suck," he commands softly. "I'm going to put this inside you."

Inside me? Inside me where? My heart lurches into my mouth.

"Suck," he repeats and he stops palming me.

No. Don't stop, I want to shout, but my mouth is full. His oiled hands glide back up my body and fnally cup my neglected b.r.e.a.s.t.s."Don't stop sucking."

Gently he rolls my nipples between his thumbs and forefngers, and they harden and lengthen under his expert touch, sending synaptic waves of pleasure all the way to my groin.

"You have such beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Ana," he murmurs and my nipples harden further in response. He murmurs his approval and I moan. His lips move down from my neck toward one breast, trailing soft bites and sucks over and over, down toward my nipple, and sud- denly I feel the pinch of the clamp.

"Ah!" I garble my groan through the device in my mouth. Holy cow, the feeling is ex- quisite, raw, painful, pleasurable ... oh-the pinch. Gently, he laves the restrained nipple with his tongue, and as he does so, he applies the other. The bite of the second clamp is equally harsh ... but just as good. I groan loudly.

"Feel it," he whispers.

Oh, I do. I do. I do.

"Give me this." He tugs gently on the ornate metal pacifer in my mouth, and I release it. His hands once more trail down my body, toward my s.e.x. He's re-oiled his hands. They glide around to my backside.

I gasp. What's he going to do? I tense up on my knees as he runs his fngers between my b.u.t.tocks.

"Hush, easy," he breathes close to my ear and kisses my neck as his fngers stroke and tease me.

What's he going to do? His other hand glides down my belly to my s.e.x, palming me once more. He eases his fngers inside me, and I moan loudly, appreciatively.

"I'm going to put this inside you," he murmurs. "Not here." His fngers trail between my b.u.t.tocks, spreading oil. "But here." He moves his fngers round and round, in and out, hitting the front wall of my v.a.g.i.n.a. I moan and my restrained nipples swell.

"Ah."

"Hush now." Christian removes his fngers and slides the object into me. He cups my face and kisses me, his mouth invading mine, and I hear a very faint click. Instantly the plug inside me starts to vibrate-down there! I gasp. The feeling is extraordinary-beyond anything I've felt before.

"Ah!"

"Easy," Christian calms me, stifing my gasps with his mouth. His hands move down and tug very gently on the clamps. I cry out loudly.

"Christian, please!"

"Hush, baby. Hang in there."

This is too much-all this overstimulation, everywhere. My body starts to climb, and on my knees, I'm unable to control the buildup. Oh my ... Will I be able to handle this?

"Good girl," he soothes.

"Christian," I pant, sounding desperate even to my own ears.

"Hush, feel it, Ana. Don't be afraid." His hands are now on my waist, holding me, but I can't concentrate on his hands, what's inside me, and the clamps, too. My body is building, building to an explosion-with the relentless vibrations and the sweet, sweet torture of my nipples. Holy h.e.l.l. It will be too intense. His hands move from my hips, down and around, slick and oiled, touching, feeling, kneading my skin-kneading my behind.

"So beautiful," he murmurs and suddenly he gently pushes an anointed fnger inside me ... there! Into my backside. f.u.c.k. It feels alien, full, forbidden ... but oh ... so ...

good. And he moves slowly, easing in and out, while his teeth graze my upturned chin.

"So beautiful, Ana."

I'm suspended high-high above a wide, wide ravine, and I'm soaring then falling giddily at the same time, plunging to the Earth. I can hold on no more, and I scream as my body convulses and climaxes at the overwhelming fullness. As my body explodes, I'm nothing but sensation-everywhere. Christian releases frst one and then the other clamp, causing my nipples to sing with a surge of sweet, sweet painful feeling, but it's oh-so- good and causing my o.r.g.a.s.m, this o.r.g.a.s.m, to go on and on. His fnger stays where it is, gently easing in and out.

"Argh!" I cry out, and Christian wraps himself around me, holding me, as my body continues to pulse mercilessly inside.

"No!" I shout again, pleading, and this time he tugs the vibrator out of me, and his fnger, too, as my body continues to convulse.

He unstraps one of the cuffs so that my arms fall forward. My head lolls on his shoul- der, and I am lost, lost to all this overwhelming sensation. I'm all shattered breath, ex- hausted desire and sweet, welcome oblivion.

Vaguely, I'm aware that Christian lifts me, carries me over to the bed, and lays me down on the cool satin sheets. After a moment, his hands, still oiled, gently rub the backs of my thighs, my knees, my calves, and my shoulders. I feel the bed dip as he stretches out beside me.

He pulls the mask off, but I don't have the energy to open my eyes. Finding my braid he undoes the hair tie and leans forward, kissing me softly on my lips. Only my erratic breathing disturbs the silence in the room and steadies as I foat gently back to Earth. The music has stopped.

"So beautiful," he murmurs.

When I persuade one eye to open, he's gazing down at me, smiling softly.

"Hi," he says. I manage a grunt in response, and his smile broadens. "Rude enough for you?"

I nod and give him a reluctant grin. Jeez, any ruder and I'd have to spank the pair of us.

"I think you're trying to kill me," I mutter.

"Death by o.r.g.a.s.m." He smirks. "There are worse ways to go," he says but then frowns ever so slightly as an unpleasant thought crosses his mind. It distresses me. I reach up and caress his face.

"You can kill me like this anytime," I whisper. I notice that he's gloriously naked and ready for action. When he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, I lean up and capture his face between my hands and pull his mouth to mine. He kisses me briefy, then stops.

"This is what I want to do," he murmurs and reaches beneath his pillow for the music center remote. He presses a b.u.t.ton and the soft strains of a guitar echo round the walls."I want to make love to you," he says gazing down at me, his gray eyes burning with bright, loving sincerity. Softly in background, a familiar voice starts to sing "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." And his lips fnd mine.

As I tighten around him, fnding my release once more, Christian unravels in my arms, his head thrown back as he calls out my name. He clasps me tightly to his chest as we sit nose to nose in the middle of his vast bed, me astride him. And in this moment-this moment of joy with this man to this music-the intensity of my experience this morning in here with him and all that has occurred during the past week overwhelms me anew, not just physi- cally but emotionally. I am completely overcome with all these feelings. I am so deeply, deeply in love with him. For the frst time I'm offered a glimmer of understanding as to how he feels about my safety.

Recalling his close call with Charlie Tango yesterday, I shudder at the thought and tears pool in my eyes. If anything ever happened to him-I love him so. My tears run unchecked down my cheeks. So many sides of Christian-his sweet, gentle persona and his rugged, I- can-do-what-I-f.u.c.king-well-like-to-you-and-you'll-come-like-a-train Dominant side-his ffty shades-all of him. All spectacular. All mine. And I'm aware we don't know each other well, and we have a mountain of issues to overcome, but I know for each other, we will-and we'll have a lifetime to do it.

"Hey," he breathes, clasping my head in his hands, gazing down at me. He's still inside me. "Why are you crying?" His voice is flled with concern.

"Because I love you so much," I whisper. He half-closes his eyes as if drugged, absorb- ing my words. When he opens them again, they blaze with his love.

"And I you, Ana. You make me . . . whole." He kisses me gently as Roberta Flack fnishes her song.

We have talked and talked and talked, sitting upright together on the bed in the playroom, me in his lap, our legs curled around each other. The red satin sheet is draped around us like a royal coc.o.o.n, and I have no idea how much time has pa.s.sed. Christian is laughing at my impersonation of Katherine during the photo shoot at the Heathman.

"To think it could have been her who came to interview me. Thank the Lord for the common cold," he murmurs and kisses my nose.

"I believe she had fu, Christian," I scold him, trailing my fngers idly through his chest hair and marveling that he's tolerating it so well. "All the canes have gone," I murmur, re- calling my distraction from earlier. He tucks my hair behind my ear for the umpteenth time.

"I didn't think you'd ever get past that hard limit."

"No, I don't think I will," I whisper wide-eyed at him, then fnd myself glancing over at the whips, paddles and foggers lining the opposite wall. He follows my gaze.

"You want me to get rid of them, too?" He's amused but sincere.

"Not the crop ... the brown one. Or that suede fogger, you know." I fush.