fifty shades darker полностью

“I am rather enjoying my mindless gawk, thank you, Miss Steele,” he murmurs darkly, stepping further into the room and drinking me in. “Remind me to send a personal note of thanks to Caroline Acton.”

I frown. Who the hell is she?

“The personal shopper at Neiman’s,” he says, spookily answering my unspoken question.“Oh.”

“I’m quite distracted.”

“I can see that. What do you want, Christian?” I give him my no-nonsense stare.

He retaliates with his crooked smile and pulls the silver ball egg-things from his pocket, stopping me in my tracks. Holy shit! He wants to spank me? Now? Why?

“It’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Enlighten me,” I whisper.

“I thought you could wear these tonight.”

And the implications of that sentence hang between us as the idea sinks in.

“To this event?” I’m shocked.

He nods slowly, his eyes darkening.

Oh my.

“Will you spank me later?”

“No.”

For a moment, I feel a tiny fleeting stab of disappointment.

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

I swallow. I just don’t know.

“Well, rest assured I am not going to touch you like that, not even if you beg me.” Oh! This is news.

“Do you want to play this game?” he continues, holding up the balls. “You can always take them out if it’s too much.”

I gaze at him. He looks so wickedly tempting—unkempt, recently fucked hair, dark eyes dancing with erotic thoughts, that beautiful sculptured mouth, lips raised in a sexy, amused smile.

“Okay,” I acquiesce softly. Hell, yes! My inner goddess has found her voice and is shouting from the rooftops.

“Good girl,” Christian grins. “Come here, and I’ll put them in, once you’ve put your shoes on.”

My shoes? I turn and glance at the dove gray suede stilettos that match the dress I’ve chosen to wear.

Humor him! my inner goddess barks at me.

He holds out his hand to support me while I step into the Christian Louboutin shoes, a steal at three-thousand two hundred ninety-five dollars. I must be at least five inches taller now. He leads me to the bedside and doesn’t sit, but walks over to the only chair in the room.

Picking it up, he carries it over and places it in front of me.

“When I nod, you bend down and hold on to the chair. Understand?” His voice is husky.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now open your mouth,” he orders, his voice still low.

I do as I’m told, thinking that he’s going to put the balls in my mouth again to lubricate them. No, he slips his index finger in.

Oh . . .

“Suck,” he says. I reach up and clasp his hand, holding him steady, and do as I’m told—see, I can be obedient, when I want.

He tastes of soap . . . hmm. I suck hard, and I’m rewarded when his eyes widen and his lips part as he inhales. I’m not going to need any lubricant at this rate. He puts the balls in his mouth as I fellate his finger, twirling my tongue round it. When he tries to withdraw it, I clamp my teeth down.

He grins then shakes his head, admonishing me, so I let go. He nods, and I bend down and grasp the sides of the chair. He moves my panties to one side and very slowly slides a finger into me, circling leisurely, so I feel him, on all sides. I can’t help the moan that escapes from my lips.

He withdraws his finger briefly and with tender care, inserts the balls one at a time, pushing them deep inside me. Once they are in position, he smoothes my panties back into place and kisses my backside. Running his hands up each of my legs from ankle to thigh, he gently kisses the top of each thigh where my hold-ups finish.

“You have fine, fine legs, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.

Standing, he grasps my hips and pulls my behind against him so I feel his erection.

“Maybe I’ll have you this way when we get home, Anastasia. You can stand now.” I feel giddy, beyond aroused as the weight of the balls push and pull inside me. Leaning down from behind me Christian kisses my shoulder.

“I bought these for you to wear to last Saturday’s gala.” He puts his arm around me and holds out his hand. In his palm rests a small red box with Cartier inscribed on the lid. “But you left me, so I never had the opportunity to give them to you.” Oh!

“This is my second chance,” he murmurs, his voice stiff with some unnamed emotion.

He’s nervous.

Tentatively, I reach for the box and open it. Inside shines a pair of drop earrings. Each has four diamonds, one at the base, then a gap, then three perfectly spaced diamonds hanging one after the other. They’re beautiful, simple, and classic. What I would choose myself, if I were ever given the opportunity to shop at Cartier.

“They’re lovely,” I whisper, and because they are second-chance earrings, I love them.

“Thank you.”

He relaxes against me as the tension leaves his body, and he kisses my shoulder again.

“You’re wearing the silver satin dress?” he asks.

“Yes? Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’ll let you get ready.” He heads out the door without a backward glance.