Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(18)

"You're going to have to absorb all the pleasure, Anastasia. No moving," he murmurs as he crawls up my body, kissing me along the edge of my bikini bottoms. He pulls the strings on each side, and the scraps of material fall away. I am now naked and at his mercy. He kisses my belly, nipping my navel with his teeth.

"Ah," I sigh. This is going to be tough . . . I had no idea. He traces soft kisses and little bites up to my breasts.

"Shhh . . . ," he soothes. "You are so beautiful, Ana."

I groan, frustrated. Normally I'd be grinding my hips, responding to his touch with a rhythm of my own, but I cannot move. I moan, pulling on my restraints.

The metal bites into my skin.

"Argh!" I cry. But I really don't care.

"You drive me crazy," he whispers. "So I am going to drive you crazy." He's resting on me now, his weight on his elbows, and he turns his attention to my breasts. Biting, sucking, rolling my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, driving me wild. He doesn't stop. It's maddening. Oh. Please. His erection pushes against me.

"Christian," I beg and feel his triumphant smile against my skin.

"Shall I make you come this way?" He murmurs against my nipple, causing it to harden some more. "You know I can." He suckles me hard and I cry out, pleasure lancing from my chest directly to my groin. I pull helplessly on the cuffs, swamped by the sensation.

"Yes," I whimper.

"Oh, baby, that would be too easy."

"Oh . . . please."

"Shh." His teeth scrape my chin as he trails his lips to my mouth, and I gasp.

He kisses me. His skilled tongue invades my mouth, tasting, exploring, dominating, but my tongue meets his challenge, writhing against his. He tastes of cool gin and Christian Grey, and he smells of the sea. He grasps my chin, holding my head in place.

"Still, baby. I want you still," he whispers against my mouth.

"I want to see you."

"Oh no, Ana. You'll feel more this way." And agonizingly slowly he flexes his hips and pushes partway into me. I would normally tilt my pelvis up to meet him but I can't move. He withdraws.

"Ah! Christian, please!"

"Again?" he teases, his voice hoarse.

"Christian!"

He pushes fractionally into me again then withdraws while kissing me, his fingers tugging at my nipple. It's pleasure overload.

"No!"

"Do you want me, Anastasia?"

"Yes," I beg.

"Tell me," he murmurs, his breathing harsh, and he teases me once more—in . . . and out.

"I want you," I whimper. "Please."

I hear his soft sigh against my ear.

"And have me you will, Anastasia."

He rears up and slams into me. I scream, tilting my head back, pulling on the restraints as he hits my sweet spot, and I am all sensation, everywhere—a sweet, sweet agony, and I cannot move. He stills then circles his hips, and the motion radiates deep inside me.

"Why do you defy me, Ana?"

"Christian, stop . . ."

He circles deep inside me again, ignoring my plea, easing out slowly and then slamming into me again.

"Tell me. Why?" he hisses, and I'm vaguely aware that it's through gritted teeth.

I cry out in an incoherent wail . . . this is too much.

"Tell me."

"Christian . . ."

"Ana, I need to know."

He slams into me again, thrusting so deep, and I'm building . . . the feeling is so intense—it swamps me, spiraling out from deep within my belly, to each limb, to each biting metal restraint.