ched. I frown,
trying to grasp why it unsettles me, but Christian grasps my chin, startling me,
and tugs gently so that I release my bottom lip. I smile, trying to reassure
myself. Why do feel uneasy?
Is it the music?
Christian runs his hand from my chin, along my throat, and down my chest to
my breast. Using his thumb he pulls on the cup, freeing my breast from the
restraint of my bra. He makes a low, appreciative humming noise in his
throat and kisses my neck. His lips follow the path of his fingers to my breast,
kissing and sucking all the way. His fingers move to my left breast, releasing
it from my bra. I moan as he skates his thumb across my left nipple, and his
lips close around my right, tugging and teasing gently until both nipples are
long and hard.
“Ah.”
228 | P a g e
E L JAMES
He doesn’t stop. Slowly, with exquisite care, he increases the intensity on
each. I pull fruitlessly against my restraints as sharp pleasure spikes from my
nipples to my groin. I try to squirm but I can hardly move, and it makes the
torture all the more exquisite.
“Christian,” I plead.
“I know,” he murmurs his voice hoarse. “This is what you make me feel.”
What? I groan, and he begins again, subjecting my nipples to his sweet
What? I groan, and he begins again, subjecting my nipples to his sweet
agonizing touch over and over—taking me closer.
“Please,” I mewl.
He makes a low primal sound in his throat, then stands, lea一ving me bereft,
breathless, and squirming against my restraints. He runs his hands down my
sides, one pausing on my hip while the other tra一vels down my belly.
“Let’s see how you’re doing,” he croons softly. Gently, he cups my sex,
brushing his thumb across my clitoris and making me cry out. Slowly, he
inserts one, then two fingers inside me. I groan and thrust my hips forward,
eager to meet his fingers and the palm of his hand.
“Oh, Anastasia, you’re so ready,” he says.
He circles his fingers inside me, around and around, while his thumb strokes
my clitoris, back an
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