possession, instinctively tilting my pelvis up to
meet him, to join with him, groaning loudly. He eases back
and very slowly fills me again. My fingers find their way
into his silken unruly hair, and he oh-so-slowly moves in
and out again.
“Faster, Christian, faster . . . please.”
He gazes down at me in triumph and kisses me hard,
then really starts to move—holy cow, a punishing,
relentless . . . oh fuck—and I know it will not be long. He
sets a pounding rhythm. I start to quicken, my legs tensing
beneath him.
“Come on, baby,” he gasps. “Give it to me.”
His words are my undoing, and I explode,
magnificently, mind-numbingly, into a million pieces around
him, and he follows calling out my name.
“Ana! Oh fuck, Ana!” He collapses on top of me, his
head buried in my neck.
As sanity returns, I open my eyes and gaze up into the face
of the man I love. Christian’s expression is soft, tender. He
strokes his nose against mine, bearing his weight on his
elbows, his hands holding mine by the side of my head.
Sadly, I suspect that’s so I don’t touch him. He plants a
gentle kiss on my lips as he eases himself out of me.
“I’ve missed this,” he breathes.
“Me too,” I whisper.
He takes hold of my chin and kisses me hard. A
passionate, beseeching kiss, asking for what? I don’t
passionate, beseeching kiss, asking for what? I don’t
know. It lea一ves me breathless.
“Don’t lea一ve me again,” he implores, looking deep into
my eyes, his face serious.
“Okay,” I whisper and smile at him. His answering
smile is dazzling; relief, elation, and boyish delight
combined into one enchanting look that would melt the
coldest of hearts. “Thank you for the iPad.”
“You are most welcome, Anastasia.”
“What’s your fa一vorite song on there?”
“Now that would be telling.” He grins. “Come cook
me some food, wench. I’m famished,” he adds, sitting up
suddenly and dragging me with him.
“Wench?” I giggle.
“Wench. Food, now, please.”
“Since you ask so nicely, sire, I’ll get right on to it.”
As I scramble out of bed, I
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