Fifty Shades Darker (book 5)

Chapter 22

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She tastes so good, so sweet.

She moans into my mouth and it’s like a wake-up call that makes me harder still. I move my hand

into her hair, pulling her head back so I can angle my tongue deeper into her mouth. Her tongue

wrestles with mine.

Fuck—it’s erotic, raw, intense. I pull back.

“What do you want, Anastasia?”

“You.”

“Where?”

“Bed.”

Needing no further prompting, I scoop her into my arms and carry her into her bedroom. I want her

naked and yearning beneath me. Putting her gently on the floor, I switch on her bedside light and

draw her curtains. As I glance through the window to the street below, I realize this is indeed the

room I stared at during my silent vigils, from my stalker’s hideout.

She was here, alone, curled up in her bed.

When I turn, she’s watching me. Wide-eyed. Waiting. Wanting.

“Now what?” I ask.

She flushes.

And I stay absolutely still.

“Make love to me,” she says after a beat.

“How? You have got to tell me, baby.”

She licks her lips, a nervous gesture, and lust surges through me.

Shit—focus, Grey.

“Undress me,” she says.

Yes! Hooking my index finger into the top of her blouse, careful not to touch her soft skin, I tug

gently, forcing her to step toward me. “Good girl.”

Her breasts rise and fall as her breathing accelerates. Her dark eyes are full of carnal promise, like

mine. Deftly I start to unbutton her blouse. She puts her hands on my arms—to steady herself, I

think—and glances at me.

Yeah, that’s fine, baby. Don’t touch my chest.

I undo the last button, slip the blouse off her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. Making a conscious

effort not to touch her beautiful breasts, I reach down to the waistband of her jeans. I undo the top

button and pull down the zipper.

I resist the urge to throw her onto the bed. This is going to be a waiting game. She needs to talk to

me. “Tell me what you want, Anastasia.”

“Kiss me from here to here.” She trails her finger from the base of her ear down her throat.

My pleasure, Miss Steele.

Smoothing her hair out of the way, I gather her soft tresses in my hand and pull her head gently to

the side, exposing her slender neck. Leaning in, I nuzzle her ear and she squirms as I trail soft

kisses following the path of her finger and back again. She makes a soft noise in the back of her

throat.

It’s arousing.

Boy, I want to lose myself in her. Rediscover her.

“My jeans…and panties,” she rasps, breathy and flustered, and I grin against her throat. She’s

getting the idea.

Talk to me, Ana.

I kiss her throat one final time and kneel down in front of her, taking her by surprise. I push my

thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and her panties and slowly pull them down. Sitting back on

my knees, I admire her long legs and delectable ass as she steps out of her shoes and pants. Her

eyes meet mine, and I await my command.

“What now, Anastasia?”

“Kiss me,” she answers, her voice barely audible.

“Where?”

“You know where.”

I stifle my smile. She really can’t say the word.

“Where?” I coax.

She blushes once more, but with a determined yet mortified expression, she points to the top of her

thighs.

“Oh, with pleasure,” I chuckle, enjoying her embarrassment. Slowly I let my fingers travel up her

legs until my hands are at her hips, then I tug her forward, onto my mouth.

Fuck. I smell her arousal.

I’m already uncomfortable in my jeans, but suddenly they’re several sizes too small. I push my

tongue through her pubic hair, wondering if I’ll ever persuade her to get rid of this, but I find my goal

and begin tasting her.

Lord, she’s sweet. So fucking sweet.

She groans and fists her fingers in my hair and I don’t stop. Swirling my tongue, around and around,

teasing and testing her.

“Christian, please,” she begs.

I stop.

“Please what, Anastasia?”

“Make love to me.”

“I am,” I answer, and blow gently on her clitoris.

“No. I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

No. I’m having too much fun. I continue the slow, lascivious torture of my exquisite, precious girl.

“Christian—please!” she moans. I release her and stand, my mouth wet from her arousal, and stare

down at her through hooded eyes.

“Well?” I ask.

“Well what?” she pants.

“I’m still dressed.”

She seems at a loss, not understanding, and I hold my arms out in surrender.

Take me—I’m yours.

She reaches for my shirt.

Shit. No. I step back.

I forget myself.

“Oh no,” I protest. I mean my jeans, baby. She blinks as she realizes what I’m asking and suddenly

drops to her knees.

Whoa! Ana. What are you doing?

Rather awkwardly—her usual fingers and thumbs—she undoes my waistband and fly and tugs my

jeans down.

Ah! My cock has some room.

I step out of my pants and remove my socks while she stays kneeling in her submissive position on

the floor. What is she trying to do to me? Once I’ve dropped my pants, she reaches up and grabs

my erection and squeezes me tightly like I’ve shown her.

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