fifty-shades-of-grey

team in after Marco or maybe tomorrow, and find time for me to see Claude everyday thisweek… Tell him to wait… Oh… No, I don’t want publicity for Darfur… Tell Sam to dealwith it… No…. Which event?... That’s next Saturday?… Hold on.”“When will you be back from Georgia?” he asks.“Friday.”He resumes his phone conversation.“I’ll need an extra ticket because I have a date… Yes Andrea, that’s what I said, a date,Miss Anastasia Steele will accompany me… That’s all.” He hangs up. “Good morning,Miss Steele.”“Mr. Grey,” I smile shyly.He walks around his desk with his usual grace and stands in front of me. He smells sogood; clean and freshly laundered, so Christian. He gently strokes my cheek with the backof his fingers.“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Did you sleep well?”“I am very well-rested, thank you. I just came to say hi before I had a shower.”I gaze up at him, drinking him in. He leans down and gently kisses me, and I can’thelp myself. I throw my arms around his neck and my fingers twist in his still damp hair.Pushing my body flush against his, I kiss him back. I want him. My attack takes him bysurprise, but after a beat, he responds, a low groan in his throat. His hands slip into myhair and down my back to cup my naked behind, his tongue exploring my mouth. He pullsback, his eyes hooded.“Well, sleep seems to agree with you,” he murmurs. “I suggest you go and have yourshower, or I shall lay you across my desk, now.”“I choose the desk,” I whisper recklessly as desire sweeps like adrenaline through mysystem, waking everything in its path.He stares bewildered down at me for a millisecond.“You’ve really got a taste for this, haven’t you, Miss Steele. You’re becoming insatiable,”he murmurs.“I’ve only got a taste for you,” I whisper.His eyes widen and darken while his hands knead my naked backside.“Damn right, only me,” he growls, and suddenly with one fluid movement, he clears allthe plans and papers off his desk so that they scatter on the floor, sweeps me up in his arms,and lays me down across the short end of his desk so that my head is almost off the edge.“You want it, you got it, baby,” he mutters, producing a foil packet from his pantspocket while he unzips his pants. Oh Mr. Boy Scout. He rolls the condom over his erectionand gazes down at me. “I sure hope you’re ready,” he breathes, a salacious smile across hisface. And in a moment, he’s filling me, holding my wrists tightly by my side, and thrustinginto me deeply.I groan… oh yes.“Christ, Ana. You’re so ready,” he whispers in veneration.Wrapping my legs around his waist, I hold him the only way I can as he stays standing,staring down at me, gray eyes glowing, passionate and possessive. He starts to move, reallymove. This is not making love, this is fucking – and I love it. I groan. It’s so raw, socarnal, making me so wanton. I revel in his possession, his lust slaking mine. He moves