She’s laughing at me!
Game on, Ana.
“You want to be oppressed?” A delightful vision of her kneeling in front of me, hands tied while she services my cock, forms in my mind.
“Not oppressed. No,” she whispers, continuing to take photographs.
“I could oppress you big-time, Mrs. Grey.”
“I know you can, Mr. Grey. And you do, frequently.”
Oh. Fuck. She’s serious!
She lowers the camera and stares at me. “What’s wrong, Christian?”
I just want to keep you safe.
She frowns and lifts the camera to her eye once more. “Tell me,” she insists.
Get a grip, Grey.
I damp down my feelings. I can’t deal with them right now. “Nothing,” I answer, and drop out of her line of sight, remove the camera box from the bed, and grab Ana, dragging her down onto the comforter and sitting astride her.
“Hey!” she protests, and takes more photographs of me smiling down at her until I take the camera from her and frame her beautiful face in the viewfinder. I press the shutter and capture her loveliness for posterity.
“So, you want me to take pictures of you, Mrs. Grey?” She looks so earnest, through the lens. “Well, for a start, I think you should be laughing.” Reaching down, I start to tickle her with my free hand. She squeals and struggles beneath me and I take picture after picture.
This is fun.
She laughs and laughs. “No! Stop!”
“Are you kidding?” I’ve never tickled anyone, and hers is a particularly gratifying reaction. I put the camera down and use both hands.
“Christian!” she squeals, and thrashes around beneath me. “Christian, stop!” she pleads, and I take pity on her. Grabbing both her hands, I hold them down on either side of her head. She’s winded, flushed, her eyes dark, her hair a mess. She’s stunning. She takes my breath away.
“You. Are. So. Beautiful,” I whisper.
I don’t deserve her.
Leaning down, I close my eyes and kiss her. Her lips are soft. Her mouth welcoming. I cradle her head in my hands, my fingers weaving into her hair, and I deepen our kiss, wanting more, wanting to lose myself in her. She responds, her body rising, her hands traveling up my arms and grasping my biceps.
Her response is a torch to my arousal.
No, it’s more than that.
I want her, yes, but I need her more.
My body stands at attention, hungering for her. She’s my life raft, while I’m adrift, trying to make sense of what’s happening to me. When I’m with her, in her, all is right with the world. “Oh, what you do to me.” I groan, yearning for her. I shift quickly so I’m lying on top of her, feeling her body along the length of mine. My hand skates down to her breast, her waist, her hip, and her behind, squeezing as I go. I kiss her again, pushing my knee between her legs, running my hand down her thigh and hitching her leg over my hip. I grind against her, wanting her. Her fingers are in my hair and she tugs and holds me to her mouth, while I take all I want.
I think I’m going to combust, I want her so badly.
Fuck.
Abruptly, I stop. I need her. Now.
Standing, I pull her off the bed and undo her shorts. Kneeling down, I drag them and her panties off, then we’re back on the bed with her beneath me. My fingers make light work of my fly and free my impatient dick.
With one move, I’m inside her. Hard. Deep.
“Yes!” I hiss as she cries out.
I still and examine her face. Her eyes are closed, her head tipped back and her mouth open. I swivel my hips and drive myself deeper.
She groans and wraps her arms around me.
“I need you,” I growl, and graze my teeth along her jaw, and then I’m kissing her again, taking her mouth and all she has to give while she binds herself to me, wrapping her legs and arms around me. I’m unleashed. My need for her greater than I ever imagined. I want to crawl inside her skin so she can keep me in one piece; keep me whole. She meets me stroke for stroke. Encouraging me with her soft cries of need. Her passion, loud and hot in my ear.
I feel her. She’s close. So close. Reaching. With me. As I drive her higher. As she drives me higher.
“Come with me,” I rasp, and rear up over her. “Open your eyes. I need to see you.” She peers up at me, eyes dazed with longing, and she lets go, tipping her head back and screaming her orgasm for all to hear.
It pushes me over the edge and I climax, driving myself into her and calling out her name. I collapse to the side, bringing her with me, and turn us both so that she’s sprawled on top of me. I drag precious air into my lungs while still inside her, holding her tightly.
My beacon. My dream catcher. My love. My life.
Someone wants to kill us. Damn them.
She kisses my chest, soft, sweet kisses. “Tell me, Christian, what’s wrong?”
I tighten my hold on her and close my eyes.
I don’t want to lose you.
“I give you my solemn vow,” she whispers, “to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, to stand by your side in good times and in bad, to share your joy as well as your sorrow.”
I still. She’s reciting her vows. I open my eyes. Her face is a picture of sincerity and her love-light shines so bright from her beautiful face. “I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals and dreams, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, to share my hopes and dreams with you, and bring you solace in times of need. And to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.” She sighs, gazing at me and willing me to speak.
“Oh, Ana,” I murmur, and move, easing out of her, so that we’re lying side by side, lost in each other’s eyes. I stroke her face with my knuckles and thumb. From memory, I recite my vows, my voice hoarse as I try to contain my emotion. “I solemnly vow that I will safeguard and hold dear and deep in my heart our union and you. I promise to love you faithfully, forsaking all others, through the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, regardless of where life takes us. I will protect you, trust you, and respect you. I will share your joys and sorrows and comfort you in times of need. I promise to cherish you and uphold your hopes and dreams and keep you safe at my side. All that is mine is now yours. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love from this moment on for as long as we both shall live.”
Tears well in her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” I whisper, brushing away a stray tear with my thumb.
“Why won’t you talk to me? Please, Christian.”