ng? He moves
back to the chest and opens a drawer, 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 fa一vorite tie,” he murmurs. It
slowly unra一vels as he undoes it.
I inhale sharply as the tail of the tie tra一vels 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 shiver through me. His hand flexes over my neck,
and it’s slick with sweet-smelling oil so his hand glides
smoothly down my throat, across my cla一vicle, and up to
my shoulder, his fingers kneading gently as they go. Oh,
I’m getting a massage. Not what I expected.
He places his other hand on my other shoulder and
begins another slow teasing journey across my cla一vicle. I
groan softly as he works his way down toward my
increasingly aching breasts, 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 a一void my breasts. 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 massage me—beneath my
breasts, across my belly, down . . . He kisses me fleetingly
on my lips, then he runs his nose down my neck, my
throat. Holy cow, I’m on fire . . . his nearness, his hands,
his words.
“And soon you’ll be my wife to ha一ve and to hold,” he
whispers.
Oh my.
“To love and to cherish.”
Jeez.
“With my body, I will worship you.”
I tip my head back and moan. His fingers run through
my pubic hair, over my sex, and he rubs the palm of his
hand against my clitoris.
“Mrs. Grey,” he whispers as his
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