llenges, Mr. Grey.” I
raise an eyebrow at him, and he smirks.
“Why, Miss Steele, whatever do you mean?” On his
way over to me, he pauses at the small desk built into one
of the bookshelves. Reaching over, he picks up a twelveinch
Perspex ruler. He holds each end and flexes it, his
eyes not lea一ving mine.
Holy shit—his weapon of choice. My mouth goes
dry.
dry.
Suddenly, I’m hot and bothered and damp in all the
right places. Only Christian could turn me on with just a
look and the flex of a ruler. He slips it into the back pocket
of his jeans and ambles toward me, eyes dark and full of
promise. Without saying a word, he drops to his knees in
front of me and starts to undo my laces, quickly and
efficiently, dragging both my Converse and socks off. I
lean on the side of the billiard table so I don’t fall. Gazing
down at him as he undoes my laces, I marvel at the depth
of feeling that I ha一ve for this beautiful flawed man. I love
him.
He grabs my hips, slips his fingers into the waistband of
my jeans, and undoes the button and zipper. He peers up
through his long lashes, grinning his most salacious grin as
he slowly peels my jeans off. I step out of them, glad that
I’m wearing these pretty, pretty panties, and he grasps the
back of my legs and runs his nose along the apex of my
thighs. I practically melt.
“I want to be quite rough with you, Ana. You’ll ha一ve to
tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he breathes.
Oh my. He kisses me . . . there. I moan softly.
“Safe word?” I murmur.
“No, no safe word, just tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.
Understand?” He kisses me again, nuzzling me. Oh, that
feels good. He stands, his stare intense. “Answer me,” he
orders his voice velvet soft.
“Yes, yes, I understand.” I’m puzzled by his insistence.
“You’ve been dropping hints and giving me mixed
signals all day, Anastasia,” he says. “You said you were
signals all day, Anastasia,” he says. “You said you were
worried I’d lost my edge. I’m not sure what you meant by
that, and I don’t know how
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