"Ah." He groans and tilts his head back, giving me easier access to the base of his throat, his mouth slack and open in silent veneration.
Christian lost and aroused is just so exhilarating . . . and so arousing to me.
My tongue trails down his sternum, twirling through his chest hair. Hmm. He tastes so good. He smells so good. Intoxicating. I kiss first one, then two of his small round scars, and he grasps my hips, so my fingers halt on his chest as I gaze down at him. His breathing is harsh.
"You want this? Here?" he breathes, his eyes hooded with a heady combination of love and lust.
"Yes," I murmur, and my lips and tongue graze across his chest to his nipple. I pull and roll it gently with my teeth.
"Oh, Ana," he whispers and circling my waist he lifts me, tugging at his button and fly so he springs free. He sits me down again, and I push against him, delighting in the feel of him hot and hard beneath me. He runs his hands up my thighs, pausing where my thigh-highs stop and my flesh begins, his hands running small teasing circles at the top of my thighs so that the tips of his thumbs touch me . . . touch me where I want to be touched. I gasp.
"I hope you're not attached to your underwear," he murmurs, his eyes wild and bright. His fingers trace the elastic along my belly then slide inside, teasing me, before grabbing my panties tightly and pushing his thumbs through the delicate material. My panties disintegrate. His hands splay out on my thighs, and his thumbs brush against my sex once more. He flexes his hips so his erection rubs against me.
"I can feel how wet you are." His voice is tinged with carnal appreciation, and he suddenly sits up, his arm around my waist again, so we're nose to nose. He rubs his nose against mine.
"We're going to take this slow, Mrs. Grey. I want to feel all of you."
He lifts me, and with exquisite, frustrating, slow ease, lowers me onto him. I feel each blessed inch of him fill me.
"Ah - " I moan incoherently as I reach out to clasp his arms. I try to lift myself off him for some welcome friction, but he holds me in place.
"All of me," he whispers, and tilts his pelvis, pushing himself into me all the way. I throw my head back and let out a strangled cry of pure pleasure.
"Let me hear you," he murmurs. "No - don't move, just feel."
I open my eyes, my mouth frozen in a silent Ah! And he's gazing at me, hooded, licentious gray eyes into dazed blue. He shifts, rolling his hips, but holds me in place.
I groan. His lips are at my throat, kissing me.
"This is my favorite place. Buried in you," he murmurs against my skin.
"Please, move," I plead.
"Slow, Mrs. Grey." He flexes his hips again and pleasure radiates through me. I cup his face and kiss him, consuming him.
"Love me. Please, Christian."
His teeth skim my jaw up to my ear. "Go," he whispers, and he lifts me up and down. My inner goddess is unleashed, and I push him down on the ground and start to move, savoring the feeling of him inside me . . . riding him . . . riding him hard. With his hands around my waist he matches my rhythm. I have missed this . . . the heady feeling of him beneath me, inside me . . . the sun on my back, the sweet smell of fall in the air, the gentle autumnal breeze. It's a heady fusion of senses: touch, taste, smell, and the sight of my beloved husband beneath me.
"Oh, Ana," he groans. Eyes closed, head back, mouth open. Ah . . . I love this. And inside, I'm building . . . building . . . climbing . . . higher. Christian's hands move to my thighs, and delicately his thumbs press at their apex, and I explode around him over and over and over and over, and I collapse, sprawled on his chest as he cries out in turn, letting go and calling out my name with love and joy.
He cuddles me against his chest, cradling my head. Hmm. Closing my eyes, I savor the feel of his arms around me. My hand is on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as it slows and calms. I kiss and nuzzle him, and marvel briefly that not long ago he would not have let me do this.
"Better?" he whispers. I raise my head. He's grinning broadly.
"Much. You?" My answering grin reflects his.
"I've missed you, Mrs. Grey." He's serious for a moment.
"Me, too."
"No more heroics, eh?"
"No," I promise.
"You should always talk to me," he whispers.
"Back at you, Grey."
He smirks. "Fair point well made. I'll try." He kisses my hair.
"I think we're going to be happy here," I whisper, closing my eyes again.
"Yep. You, me and . . . Blip. How do you feel, incidentally?"
"Fine. Relaxed. Happy."
"Good."
"You?"
"Yeah, all those things," he murmurs.
I look up at him, trying to gauge his expression.
"What?" he asks.
"You know, you're very bossy when we have sex."
"Are you complaining?"
"No. I'm just wondering . . . you said you missed it."
He stills, gazing at me. "Sometimes," he whispers.
Oh. "Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that," I murmur and kiss him lightly on his lips, curling around him like a vine. Images of us together, in the playroom; the Tallis, the table, on the cross, shackled to the bed . . . I love his kinky f**kery - our kinky f**kery. Yes. I can do that stuff. I can do that for him, with him. I can do that for me. My skin tingles as I remember the riding crop.
"I like to play, too," I murmur, and glancing up, I'm treated to his shy smile.
"You know, I'd really like to test your limits," he whispers.