astes delicious. He clasps my hips and steadies my
rhythm, slow and easy.
“Ana, touch me . . . please.”
Oh. I lean forward and steady myself with my hands
on his chest. And he calls out, his cry almost a sob, and he
thrusts deep inside me.
“Ahh,” I whimper and run my fingernails gently over his
chest, through the hair there, and he groans loudly and
twists abruptly so I am once more beneath him.
“Enough.” He moans. “No more, please.” And it’s a
heartfelt plea.
Reaching up, I clasp his face in my hands, feeling the
dampness on his cheeks, and pull him down to my lips so
that I can kiss him. I curl my hands around his back.
He groans deep and low in his throat as he moves
inside me, pushing me onward and upward, but I can’t find
my release. My head is too cloudy, cloudy with issues. I
am too wrapped up in him.
“Let go, Ana,” he urges me.
“No.”
“Yes,” he snarls. He shifts slightly and gyrates his hips,
again and again.
Jeez . . . argh!
“Come on baby, I need this. Give it to me.”
And I explode, my body a sla一ve to his, and wrap
myself around him, clinging to him like a vine as he cries
out my name, and climaxes with me, then collapses, his full
weight pressing me into the mattress.
I cradle Christian in my arms, his head on my chest, as we
lie in the afterglow of our lovemaking. I run my fingers
through his hair as I listen to his breathing return to normal.
“Don’t ever lea一ve me,” he whispers, and I roll my eyes
in the full knowledge that he can’t see me.
“I know you’re rolling your eyes at me,” he murmurs,
and I hear the trace of humor in his voice.
“You know me well,” I murmur.
“I’d like to know you better.”
“Back at you, Grey. What was your nightmare about?”
“The usual.”
“Tell me.”
He swallows and tenses before he sighs, a long drawnout
sigh. “I must be about three, and the crack whore’s
pimp is mad as hell again. He smokes and smokes, one
cigarette after another, and he can’t find an ashtray.” He
stops, and I freeze as a creeping chill grips my heart.
“It hurt,” he
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