his thumb skimming over
my clitoris, tantalizing me, as he pushes his index finger inside me with
exquisite slowness.
“We’re supposed to be making out.” I groan.
Christian stills. “I thought we were?”
“No. No sex.”
“What?”
“No sex . . .”
“No sex, huh?” He withdraws his hand from my sweatpants.
“Here.” He traces my lips with his index finger, and I taste my slick saltiness.
He pushes his finger into my mouth, mirroring what he was doing a moment
earlier. Then shifts so he’s between my legs, and his erection pushes against
me. He thrusts, once, twice, and again. I gasp, as the material of my
sweatpants rubs in just the right way. He pushes once more, grinding into
me.
“This what you want?” he murmurs and moves his hips rhythmically, rocking
against me.
“Yes.” I moan.
His hand moves back to concentrate on my nipple once more and his teeth
scrape along my jaw. “Do you know how hot you are, Ana?”
His voice is hoarse as he rocks harder against me. I open my mouth to
articulate a response and fail miserably, groaning loudly. He captures my
mouth once more, tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth before plunging his
tongue into my mouth again. He releases my other wrist and my hands tra一vel
greedily up his shoulders and into his hair as he kisses me. When I pull on
his hair, he groans and raises his eyes to mine.
“Ah . . .”
“Do you like me touching you?” I whisper.
His brow furrows briefly as if he doesn’t understand the question. He stops
grinding against me. “Of course I do. I love you touching me, 125 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
Ana. I’m like a starving man at a banquet when it comes to your touch.” His
voice hums with passionate sincerity.
Holy cow . . .
He kneels between my legs and drags me up to haul off my top. I’m naked
beneath. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he yanks it over his head and tosses
it on the floor, then pulls me onto his kneeling lap, his arms clasped just
above my behind.
“Touch me,” he breathes.
Oh my . . . Tentatively I reach up and brush the tip
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