touch him, watching his expression as I do. His mouth shapes like a letter O as he takes a

sharp breath. His skin is so smooth and soft… and hard… hmm, what a delicious combina-

tion. I lean forward, my hair falling around me, and he’s in my mouth. I suck, hard. He

closes his eyes, his hips jerking beneath me.

“Jeez, Ana, steady,” he groans.

I feel so powerful, it’s such a heady feeling, teasing and testing him with my mouth and

tongue. He tenses underneath me as I run my mouth up and down him, pushing him to the

back of my throat, my lips tight… again and again.

“Stop, Ana, stop. I don’t want to come.”

I sit up, blinking at him, and I’m panting like him, but confused. I thought I was in

charge?My inner goddess looks like someone snatched her ice cream.

“You’re innocence and enthusiasm is very disarming,” he gasps. “You, on top… that’s

what we need to do.”

Oh.

“Here, put this on.” He hands me a foil packet.

Holy Crap. How?I rip the packet open, and the rubbery condom is all tacky in my

fingers.

“Pinch the top and then roll it down. You don’t want any air in the end of that sucker,”

he pants.

And very slowly, concentrating hard, I do as I’m told.

“Christ, you’re killing me here, Anastasia,” he groans.

I admire my handiwork and him. He really is a fine specimen of a man, looking at him

is very, very arousing.

“Now. I want to be buried inside you,” he murmurs. I stare down at him, daunted, and

he sits up suddenly, so we’re nose to nose.

“Like this,” he breathes, and he snakes one hand round my hips, lifting me slightly,

and with the other he positions himself beneath me, and very slowly, eases me on to him.

I groan as he stretches me open, filling me, my mouth hanging open in surprise at the

sweet, sublime, agonizing, over-full feeling. Oh… please.

“That’s right, baby, feel me, all of me,” he growls and briefly closes his eyes.

And he’s inside me, sheathed to the hilt, and he holds me in place, for seconds… min-

utes… I have no idea,, staring intently into my eyes.

“It’s deep this way,” he murmurs. He flexes and swivels his hips in the same motion,

and I groan… oh my – the sensation radiates throughout my belly… everywhere. Fuck!

“Again,” I whisper. He grins a lazy grin and obliges.

Moaning, I throw my head back, my hair tumbling down my back, and very slowly, he

sinks back down on to the bed.

“You move, Anastasia, up and down, how you want. Take my hands,” he breathes, his

voice hoarse and low and oh so sexy.

I clasp his hands, holding on for life. Gently I push off him and back down, oh my. His

eyes are burning with wild anticipation. His breathing is ragged, matching mine, and he

lifts his pelvis as I come down, bouncing me back up. We pick up the rhythm… up, down,

up, down… over and over… and it feels so… good. Between my panting breaths, the deep

down, brimming fullness… the vehement sensation pulsing through me that’s building

quickly, I watch him, our eyes locked… and I see wonder there, wonder at me.

I am fucking him. I am in charge. He’s mine, and I’m his. The thought pushes me,

weighted with concrete, over the edge, and I climax around him… shouting incoherently.

He grabs my hips, and closing his eyes, tipping his head back, his jaw strained, he comes

quietly. I collapse on to his chest, overwhelmed, somewhere between fantasy and reality,

a place where there are no hard or soft limits.

Slowly the outside world invades my senses, and oh my, what an invasion. I am floating,

my limbs soft and languid, utterly spent. I’m lying on top of him, my head on his chest,

and he smells divine: fresh, laundered linen and some expensive body wash, and the best,

most seductive scent on the planet… Christian. I don’t want to move, I want to breathe

this elixir for eternity. I nuzzle him, wishing I didn’t have the barrier of his t-shirt. And as

rhyme and reason return to the rest of my body, I stretch my hand out on his chest. This is

the first time I’ve touched him here. He’s firm… strong. His hand swoops up and grabs

mine, but he softens the blow by pulling it to his mouth and sweetly kissing my knuckles.

He rolls over so he’s gazing down at me.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, then kisses me lightly.

“Why don’t you like to be touched?” I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes.

“Because I’m fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia.”

Oh… his honesty is completely disarming. I blink up at him.

“I had a very tough introduction to life. I don’t want to burden you with the details.

Just don’t.” He strokes his nose against mine, and then he pulls out of me and sits up.

“I think that’s all the very basics covered. How was that?”

He looks thoroughly pleased with himself and sounds very matter-of-fact at the same

time, like he’s just marked another tick box in a checklist. I’m still reeling from the tough

introduction to life comment. It’s so frustrating – I am desperate to know more. But he

won’t tell me. I cock my head to one side, like he does, and make an enormous effort to

smile at him.

“If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well you haven’t

taken into account my GPA.” I smile shyly at him. “But thank you for the illusion.”

“Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. You’ve had six orgasms so far and all of

them belong to me,” he boasts, playful again.

I flush and blink at the same time, as he stares down at me. He’s keeping count!His

brow furrows.

“Do you have something to tell me?” his voice is suddenly stern.

I frown . Crap.

“I had a dream this morning.”

“Oh?” He glares at me.

Double crap. Am I in trouble?

“I came in my sleep.” I throw my arm over my eyes. He says nothing. I peek up at him

from under my arm, and he looks amused.

“In your sleep?”

“Woke me up.”

“I’m sure it did. What were you dreaming about?”

Crap.

“You.”

“What was I doing?”

I throw my arm over my eyes again. And like a small child, I briefly entertain the

thought that if I can’t see him, then he can’t see me.

“Anastasia, what was I doing? I won’t ask you again.”

“You had a riding crop.”

He moves my arm.

“Really?”

“Yes.” I am crimson.

“There’s hope for you yet,” he murmurs. “I have several riding crops.”

“Brown plaited leather?”

He laughs.

“No, but I’m sure I could get one.” His gray eyes blaze with excitement.

Leaning down, he gives me a brief kiss then stands and grabs his boxers, oh no… he’s

going.I glance quickly at the time – it’s only nine-forty. I scoot out of bed too and grab my sweat pants and a cami top, then sit back on the bed, cross-legged, watching him. I don’t

want him to go. What can I do?

“When is your period due?” He interrupts my thoughts.

What!

“I hate wearing these things,” he grumbles. He holds up the condom, then puts it on

the floor, and slips on his jeans.

“Well?” he prompts when I don’t reply, and he looks at me expectantly as if he’s wait-

ing for my opinion on the weather. Holy crap… this is personal stuff.

“Next week.” I stare down at my hands.

“You need to sort out some contraception.”

He is so bossy. I stare at him blankly. He sits back on the bed as he puts on his shoes

and socks.

“Do you have a doctor?”

I shake my head. We are back to mergers and acquisitions – another 180-degree mood