fifty-shades-of-grey

with water. Steam rises gently above the foam, and I notice a stone seat all the way round.Candles flicker to the side. Wow… he’s done all this while on the phone.“Do you have a hair tie?”I blink at him, fish into my jeans pocket, and pull out a hair elastic.“Put your hair up,” he orders softly. I do as he asks.It’s warm and sultry beside the bath, and my camisole starts to stick. He leans over andshuts off the faucet. leadingL me back into the first part of the bathroom,he stands behindme as we face the wall-sized mirror above the two glass sinks.“Lift up your arms,” he breathes. I do as I’m told, and he lifts my camisole over myhead so that I’m topless standing in front of him. Not taking his eyes off mine, he reachesaround and undoes the top button on my jeans and the zipper.“I’m going to have you in the bathroom, Anastasia.”Leaning down, he kisses my neck. I move my head to one side and give him easieraccess. Hooking his thumbs into my jeans, he slowly slides them down my legs, sinkingdown behind me as he pulls them and my panties to the floor.“Step out of your jeans.”Grasping the edge of the sink, I do just that. I am now naked, staring at myself, andhe’s kneeling behind me. He kisses and then softly bites my behind, making me gasp. Hestands and stares at me once more in the mirror. I try hard to stay still, ignoring my naturalinclination to cover myself. He splays his hand across my belly, the span of his handalmost reaching from hip to hip.“Look at you. You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “See how you feel.” He clasps bothmy hands in his, his palms against the backs of my hands, his fingers in between mine sothat my fingers are splayed. He places my hands on my belly. “Feel how soft your skin is.”His voice is soft and low. He moves my hands in a slow circle then upwards towards mybreasts. “Feel how full your breasts are.” He holds my hands so that they cup my breasts.He gently strokes my nipples with his thumbs over and over.I moan between parted lips and arch my back so my breasts fill my palms. He squeezesmy nipples between our thumbs, pulling gently so that they elongate further. I watch infascination at the wanton creature writhing in front of me. Oh this feels good. I groan andclose my eyes, no longer wanting to see that libidinous woman in the mirror falling apartunder her own hands… his hands… feeling my skin as he would, experiencing how arousingit is – just his touch, and his calm, soft, commands.“That’s right, baby,” he murmurs.He guides my hands down the sides of my body, past my waist to my hips, and acrossto my pubic hair. He slides his leg in between mine, pushing my feet further apart, wideningmy stance, and runs my hands over my sex, one hand at a time in turn, setting up arhythm. It is so erotic. Truly I am a marionette and he is the master puppeteer.“Look at you glow, Anastasia,” he whispers as he trails kisses and soft bites along myshoulder. I groan. Suddenly he lets go.“Carry on,” he orders, and stands back watching me.I rub myself. No. I want him, him to do it. It doesn’t feel the same. I’m lost withouthim. He pulls his shirt over his head and quickly takes off his jeans.“You’d rather I do this?” His gray gaze scorches mine in the mirror.