Grey (27 page)

She obeys immediately.

Good girl.

I remove my jacket from her shoulders and discard it on the floor, then lift her hair off her neck. The feel of her soft skin beneath my index finger is soothing. Now that she's doing what she's told, I relax. With the tip of my finger I follow the line of her spine down her back to the start of the zipper bound in gray chiffon. “I like this dress. I like to see your flawless skin.”

Hooking my finger into the back of her dress, I pull her close so she's flush against me. I bury my face in her hair and breathe in her scent.

“You smell so good, Anastasia. So sweet.”

Like fall.

Her fragrance is comforting, reminding me of a time of plenty and happiness. Still inhaling her delicious scent, I skim my nose from her ear down her neck to her shoulder, kissing her as I go. Slowly I unzip her dress and kiss, and lick, and suck my way across her skin to her other shoulder.

She shivers beneath my touch.

Oh, baby.
“You are going to have to learn to keep still,” I whisper between kisses, and unfasten her halter neck. The dress falls to her feet.

“No bra, Miss Steele. I like that.”

Reaching forward, I cup her breasts and feel her nipples pebble against my palm.

“Lift your arms and put them around my head,” I order, my lips brushing her neck. She does as she's told and her breasts lift farther into my palms. She twists her fingers into my hair, the way I like, and she tugs.

Ah… That feels so good.

Her head lolls to the side, and I take advantage, kissing her where her pulse hammers beneath her skin.

“Mmm…” I murmur in appreciation, my fingers teasing and tugging at her nipples.

She groans, arching her back, pushing her perfect tits even farther into my hands. “Shall I make you come this way?”

Her body bows a little more.

“You like this, don't you, Miss Steele?”

“Mmm…”

“Tell me,” I insist, continuing my sensual assault on her nipples.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Gently I pinch and twist with my fingers and her body bucks convulsively against me while she moans, her hands tugging harder at my hair.

“I don't think you're ready to come yet.” And I still my hands, just holding her breasts, while my teeth tug at her earlobe. “Besides, you have displeased me. So perhaps I won't let you come after all.”

I knead her breasts and my fingers return my attention to her nipples, twisting and tugging. She groans and grinds her ass against my erection. Shifting my hands to her hips, I hold her steady and glance down at her panties.

Cotton. White. Easy.

I hook my fingers into them and stretch them as far as they'll go, then push my thumbs through the seam at the back. They tear apart in my hands and I throw them at Ana's feet.

She gasps.

I trace my fingers around her ass and insert one into her vagina.

She's wet. Very wet.

“Oh yes. My sweet girl is ready.”

I spin her around and slip my finger into my mouth.

Mmm. Salty.
“You taste so fine, Miss Steele.”

Her lips part and her eyes darken with want. I think she's a little shocked.

“Undress me.” I keep my eyes on hers. She tilts her head, processing my command, but hesitates. “You can do it,” I encourage her. She lifts her hands and all of a sudden I think she's going to touch me, and I'm not ready.
Shit.

Instinctively I grab her hands.

“Oh no. Not the T-shirt.”

I want her on top. We've not done this yet, and she may lose her balance, so I'll need the T-shirt for protection. “You may need to touch me for what I have planned.” I release one of her hands, but the other I place over my erection, which is fighting for space in my jeans.

“This is the effect you have on me, Miss Steele.”

She inhales, gazing at her hand. Then her fingers tighten around my cock and she glances up at me with appreciation.

I grin. “I want to be inside you. Take my jeans off. You're in charge.”

Her mouth drops open.

“What are you going to do with me?” My voice is husky.

Her face transforms, bright with delight, and before I can react she pushes me. I laugh as I fall onto the bed, mainly at her bravado, but also because she touched me and I didn't panic. She removes my shoes, then my socks, but she's all fingers and thumbs, reminding me of the interview and her attempts to set up the recorder.

I watch her. Amused. Aroused. Wondering what she'll do next. It's going to be one hell of a task for her to remove my jeans while I'm lying down. Stepping out of her pumps, she crawls up the bed, sits astride the top of my thighs, and slips her fingers beneath the waistband of my jeans.

I close my eyes and flex my hips, enjoying shameless Ana.

“You'll have to learn to keep still,” she castigates me, and tugs at my pubic hair.

Ah!
So bold, ma'am.

“Yes, Miss Steele,” I tease through clenched teeth. “In my pocket, condom.”

Her eyes flash with obvious delight and her fingers rifle through my pocket, diving deep, brushing my erection.

Ah…

She produces both foil packets and tosses them onto the bed beside me. Her fumbling fingers reach for the button on my waistband, and after two attempts she undoes it.

Her naïveté is captivating. It's obvious that she's never done this before. Another first…and it's fucking arousing.

“So eager, Miss Steele,” I tease.

She yanks down my zipper and, pulling at my waistband, gives me a look of frustration.

I try hard not to laugh.

Yeah, baby, how are you going to get these off me now?

Shuffling down my legs, she tugs at my jeans, concentrating hard, looking adorable. And I decide to help her out. “I can't keep still if you're going to bite that lip,” I say while arching my hips, lifting them off the bed.

Rising up on her knees, she pulls down my jeans and boxers and I kick them off, onto the floor. She sits across me, eyeing my cock and licking her lips.

Whoa.

She looks hot, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her breasts.

“Now what are you going to do?” I whisper. Her eyes flick to my face and she reaches up and grasps me firmly, squeezing hard, her thumb brushing over the tip.

Jesus.

She leans down.

And I'm in her mouth.

Fuck.

She sucks hard. And my body flexes beneath her. “Jeez, Ana, steady,” I hiss through my teeth. But she shows no mercy as she fellates me again and again.
Fuck.
Her enthusiasm is disarming. Her
tongue is up and down, I'm in and out of her mouth to the back of her throat, her lips tight around me. It's an overwhelming erotic vision. I could come just watching her.

“Stop, Ana, stop. I don't want to come.”

She sits up, her mouth moist and her eyes two dark pools directed down at me.

“Your innocence and enthusiasm are very disarming.”
But right now I want to fuck you so I can see you.
“You, on top, that's what we need to do. Here, put this on.” I place a condom in her hand. She examines it with consternation, then rips the packet open with her teeth.

She's keen.

She removes the condom and looks to me for direction.

“Pinch the top and then roll it down. You don't want any air in the end of that sucker.”

She nods and does exactly that, absorbed in her task, concentrating hard, her tongue peeking between her lips.

“Christ, you're killing me here,” I exclaim through clenched teeth.

When she's done she sits back and admires her handiwork, or me—I'm not quite sure, but I don't care. “Now. I want to be buried inside you.” I sit up suddenly so we're face-to-face, surprising her. “Like this,” I whisper, and, wrapping my arm around her, I lift her. With my other hand I position my cock and lower her slowly onto me.

My breath escapes from my body as her eyes close and pleasure thrums noisily in her throat.

“That's right, baby, feel me, all of me.”

She. Feels. So. Good.

I hold her, letting her get used to the feel of me. Like this. Inside her. “It's deep this way.” My voice is hoarse, as I flex and tilt my pelvis, pushing deeper into her.

Her head lolls as she moans. “Again,” she breathes. And she opens her eyes and they blaze into mine. Wanton. Willing. I love that she loves this. I do as I'm asked and she moans again, throwing
back her head, her hair tumbling in a riot over her shoulders. Slowly I recline onto the bed to watch the show.

“You move, Anastasia, up and down, how you want. Take my hands.” I hold them out and she grabs them, steadying herself on top of me. Slowly she eases herself up, then sinks back down onto me.

My breath is coming in short, sharp pants as I restrain myself. She lifts herself again and this time I raise my hips to meet her as she comes down.

Oh yes.

Closing my eyes, I savor every delicious inch of her. Together we find our rhythm as she rides me. Over and over and over. She looks fantastic: her breasts bouncing, her hair swinging, her mouth slack as she absorbs each stab of pleasure.

Her eyes meet mine, full of carnal need and wonder. God, she's beautiful.

She cries out as her body takes over. She's almost there, so I tighten my grip on her hands, and she ignites around me. I grab her hips, holding her as she shouts incoherently through her orgasm. Then I tighten my hold on her hips and silently lose myself as I explode inside her.

She flops down onto my chest, and I lie, panting, beneath her.

My God, she's a good fuck.

We lie together for a moment, her weight a comfort. She stirs and nuzzles me through my shirt, then splays her hand on top of my chest.

The darkness slithers, quick and strong, into my chest, into my throat, threatening to suffocate and choke me.

No. Don't touch me.

I grab her hand and bring her knuckles to my lips, and roll over on top of her so she's no longer able to touch me.

“Don't,” I plead, and kiss her lips as I dampen down my fear.

“Why don't you like to be touched?”

“Because I'm fifty shades of fucked up, Anastasia.” After years and years of therapy, it's the one thing I know to be true.

Her eyes widen, inquisitive; she's thirsty for more information. But she doesn't need to know this shit. “I had a very tough introduction to life. I don't want to burden you with the details. Just don't.” I gently brush my nose against hers and, withdrawing from her, I sit up and remove the condom and drop it by the bed. “I think that's all the very basics covered. How was that?”

For a moment she seems distracted, then she tilts her head to one side and smiles. “If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well, you haven't taken into account my GPA. But thank you for the illusion.”

“Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. You've had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me.” Why does that mere fact make me glad?

Her eyes stray to the ceiling, and a fleeting guilty expression crosses her face.

What's this?
“Do you have something to tell me?” I ask.

She hesitates. “I had a dream this morning.”

“Oh?”

“I came in my sleep.” She flings her arm over her face, hiding from me, embarrassed. I'm stunned by her confession but aroused and delighted, too.

Sensual creature.

She peeks over her arm. Does she expect me to be angry?

“In your sleep?” I clarify.

“Woke me up,” she whispers.

“I'm sure it did.” I'm fascinated. “What were you dreaming about?”

“You,” she says in a small voice.

Me!

“What was I doing?”

She hides beneath her arm again.

“Anastasia, what was I doing? I won't ask you again.” Why is she so embarrassed? Her dreaming about me is…endearing.

“You had a riding crop,” she mumbles. I move her arm so I can see her face.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Her face is bright red. The research must be affecting her, in a good way. I smile down at her.

“There's hope for you yet. I have several riding crops.”

“Brown plaited leather?” Her voice is tinged with quiet optimism.

I laugh. “No, but I'm sure I could get one.”

I give her a swift kiss and stand to dress. Ana does the same, pulling on sweatpants and a camisole. Collecting the condom off the floor, I knot it quickly. Now that she's agreed to be mine, she needs contraception. Fully dressed, she sits cross-legged on the bed watching me as I grab my pants. “When is your period due?” I ask. “I hate wearing these things.” I hold up the knotted condom and pull on my jeans.

She's taken aback.

“Well?” I prod.

“Next week,” she answers, her cheeks pink.

“You need to sort out some contraception.”

I sit on the bed to slip on my socks and shoes. She says nothing.

“Do you have a doctor?” I ask. She shakes her head. “I can have mine come and see you at your apartment—Sunday morning, before you come and see me. Or he can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?”

I'm sure Dr. Baxter will make a house call for me, although I haven't seen him for a while.

“Your place,” she says.

“Okay. I'll let you know the time.”

“Are you leaving?”

She seems surprised that I'm going. “Yes.”

“How are you getting back?” she asks.

“Taylor will pick me up.”

“I can drive you. I have a lovely new car.”

That's better. She's accepted the car as she should, but after all that champagne she shouldn't be driving
.
“I think you've had too much to drink.”