ody to my deep dark places.
“Your body’s changing,” he whispers. His thumb teases my nipple until it’s
erect and straining against my bra. “I like,” he adds. I watch his tongue taste
and trace the line between my bra and my breast, tantalizing and teasing me.
Taking my bra cup delicately between his teeth, he pulls it down, freeing my
breast and nuzzling my nipple with his nose in the process. It puckers at his
touch and from the chill of the gentle fall breeze. His lips close around me,
and he sucks long and hard.
“Ah!” I groan, inhaling sharply then wincing as pain radiates outward from my
bruised ribs.
“Ana!” Christian exclaims and glares down at me, concern etched on his
face. “This is what I’m talking about,” he admonishes. “Your 486 | P a g e
E L JAMES
lack of self-preservation. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“No . . . don’t stop,” I whimper. He stares at me, warring with himself.
“Please.”
“Here.” Abruptly he moves, and I’m sitting astride him, my short skirt now
bunched up around my hips. His hands glide over the top of my thigh-highs.
“There. That’s better, and I can enjoy the view.” He reaches up and hooks his
long index finger into my other bra cup, freeing that breast, too. He grasps
both of my breasts, and I throw my head back, pushing them into his
welcome, expert hands. He teases me, tugging and rolling my nipples until I
cry out, then sits up so we’re nose to nose, his greedy gray eyes on mine. He
kisses me, his fingers still teasing me. I scramble for his shirt, undoing the
first two buttons, and it’s like sensory overload—I want to be kissing him
everywhere, undressing him, making love with him all at once.
“Hey—” He gently grasps my head and pulls back, eyes dark and full of
sensual promise. “There’s no rush. Take it slow. I want to sa一vor you.”
“Christian, it’s been so long.” I’m panting.
“Slow,” he whispers, and it’s a command. He kisses the right corner of my
mouth. “Slow.” He kisses the left corner. “Slow, baby.” He tugs my bottom lip
with his tee
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