Fifty Shades Darker(164)

"Ana, touch me... please."

Oh. I lean forward and steady myself with my hands on his chest. And he calls out, his cry almost a sob, and he thrusts deep inside me.

"Ahh," I whimper and run my fingernails gently over his chest, through the hair there, and he groans loudly and twists abruptly so I am once more beneath him.

"Enough." He moans. "No more, please." And it's a heartfelt plea.

Reaching up, I clasp his face in my hands, feeling the dampness on his cheeks, and pull him down to my lips so that I can kiss him. I curl my hands around his back.

He groans deep and low in his throat as he moves inside me, pushing me onward and upward, but I can't find my release. My head is too cloudy, cloudy with issues. I am too wrapped up in him.

"Let go, Ana," he urges me.

"No."

"Yes," he snarls. He shifts slightly and gyrates his hips, again and again.

Jeez... argh!

"Come on baby, I need this. Give it to me."

And I explode, my body a slave to his, and wrap myself around him, clinging to him like a vine as he cries out my name, and climaxes with me, then collapses, his full weight pressing me into the mattress.

I cradle Christian in my arms, his head on my chest, as we lie in the afterglow of our lovemaking. I run my fingers through his hair as I listen to his breathing return to normal.

"Don't ever leave me," he whispers, and I roll my eyes in the full knowledge that he can't see me.

"I know you're rolling your eyes at me," he murmurs, and I hear the trace of humor in his voice.

"You know me well," I murmur.

"I'd like to know you better."

"Back at you, Grey. What was your nightmare about?"

"The usual."

"Tell me."

He swallows and tenses before he sighs, a long drawn-out sigh. "I must be about three, and the crack whore's pimp is mad as hell again. He smokes and smokes, one cigarette after another, and he can't find an ashtray." He stops, and I freeze as a creeping chill grips my heart.

"It hurt," he says, "It's the pain I remember. That's what gives me nightmares. That and the fact that she did nothing to stop him."

Oh no. This is unbearable. I tighten my grip around him, my legs and arms holding him to me, and I try not to let my despair choke me. How could anyone treat a child like that?

He raises his head and pins me with his intense gray gaze.

"You're not like her. Don't ever think that. Please."

I blink back at him. It's very reassuring to hear. He puts his head on my chest again, and I think he's finished, but he surprises me by continuing.

"Sometimes in the dreams she's just lying on the floor. And I think she's asleep. But she doesn't move. She never moves. And I'm hungry. Really hungry."

Oh f*ck.

"There's a loud noise and he's back, and he hits me so hard, cursing the crack whore.

His first reaction was always to use his fists or his belt."

"Is that why you don't like to be touched?"

He closes his eyes and hugs me tighter. "That's complicated," he murmurs. He nuzzles me between my breasts, inhaling deeply, trying to distract me.

"Tell me," I prompt.

He sighs. "She didn't love me. I didn't love me. The only touch I knew was... harsh.

It stemmed from there. Flynn explains it better than I can."

"Can I see Flynn?"

He raises his head to look at me. "Fifty Shades rubbing off on you?"