Fifty Shades Darker(71)

I close my eyes. This is the first time since I met him that I really want this. I need it.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Why?" he asks softly as he caresses my behind with his palm.

I groan as soon as his hand makes contact with my skin. I don't know why... You tell me not to overthink. After a day like today - arguing about the money, Leila, Mrs. Robinson, the dossier on me, the roadmap, this lavish party, the masks, the alcohol, the silver balls, the auction... I want this.

"Do I need a reason?"

"No, baby, you don't," he says. "I'm just trying to understand you." His left hand curls round my waist, holding me in place as his palm leaves my behind and lands hard, just above the junction of my thighs. The pain connects directly with the ache in my belly Oh man... I moan loudly. He hits me again, in exactly the same place. I groan again.

"Two," he murmurs. "We'll go with twelve."

Oh my! This feels different than the last time - so carnal, so... necessary. He caresses my behind with his long-fingered hands, and I'm helpless, trussed up and pressed into the mattress, at his mercy, and of my own free will. He hits me again, slightly to the side, and again, to the other side, then pauses as he slowly peels my panties down and pulls them off.

He gently trails his palm across my behind again before continuing my spanking - each stinging smack taking the edge off my need - or fueling it - I don't know. I surrender myself to the rhythm of blows, absorbing each one, savoring each one.

"Twelve," he murmurs his voice low and harsh. He caresses my behind again and trails his fingers down toward my sex and slowly sinks two fingers inside me, moving them in a circle, round and round and round, torturing me.

I moan loudly as my body takes over, and I come and come, convulsing around his fingers. It's so intense, unexpected, and quick.

"That's right, baby," he murmurs appreciatively. He unties my wrists, keeping his fingers inside me as I lie panting and spent over him.

"I've not finished with you yet, Anastasia," he says and shifts without removing his fingers. He eases my knees on to the floor so that now I'm leaning over the bed. He kneels on the floor behind me and undoes his zipper. He slides his fingers out of me, and I hear the familiar tear of a foil packet. "Open your legs," he growls and I comply. He strokes my behind and eases into me.

"This is going to be quick, baby," he murmurs and grabbing my hips, he eases out then slams into me.

"Ah!" I cry out but the fullness is heavenly. He's hitting the bellyache square on, again and again, eradicating it with each sharp, sweet thrust. The feeling is mind-blowing, just what I need. I push back to meet him, thrust for thrust.

"Ana, no," he grunts, trying to still me. But I want him too much, and I grind against him, matching him thrust for thrust.

"Ana, shit," he hisses as he comes, and the tortured sound sets me off again, spiraling into a healing orgasm that goes on and on and wrings me out and leaves me spent and breathless.

Christian bends and kisses my shoulder then pulls out of me. Placing his arms around me, he rests his head in the middle of my back, and we lie like this, both kneeling at the bedside, for what? Seconds? Minutes even as our breathing calms. My bellyache has disappeared, and all I feel is a soothing, satisfying serenity.

Christian stirs and kisses my back. "I believe you owe me a dance, Miss Steele," he murmurs.

"Hmm," I respond, savoring the absence of achiness and basking in the afterglow.

He sits back on his heels and pulls me off the bed onto his lap. "We don't have long.