Book 1 - Page 95 (1/2)

”See how wet you are for this, Anastasia. Open your eyes and your mouth.”

I do as I'm told, completely seduced. He pushes the tip of the crop into my mouth, like my dream . Holy s.h.i.+t.

”See how you taste. Suck. Suck hard, baby.”

My mouth closes around the crop as my eyes lock on his. I can taste the rich leather and the saltiness of my arousal. His eyes are blazing. He's in his element.

He pulls the tip from my mouth, and he stands forward and grabs me and kisses me hard, his tongue invading my mouth. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me against him. His chest crushes mine, and I itch to touch, but I can't, my hands, useless above me.

”Oh, Anastasia, you taste mighty fine,” he breathes. ”Shall I make you come?”

”Please,” I beg.

The crop bites my b.u.t.tock. Ow!

”Please, what?”

”Please, Sir,” I whimper.

He smiles at me, triumphant.

”With this?” He holds the crop up so I can see it.

”Yes, Sir.”

”Are you sure?” He looks sternly at me.

”Yes, please, Sir.”

”Close your eyes.”

I shut the room out, him out... the crop out. He starts small, biting licks of the crop against my belly once more. Moving down, soft small licks against my c.l.i.toris, once, twice, three times, again and again, until finally, that's it - I can take no more - and I come, gloriously, loudly, sagging weakly. His arms curl around me as my legs turn to jelly. I dissolve in his embrace, my head against his chest, and I'm mewling and whimpering as the aftershocks of my o.r.g.a.s.m consume me. He lifts me, and suddenly we're moving, my arms still tethered above my head, and I can feel the cool wood of the polished cross at my back, and he's popping the b.u.t.tons on his jeans. He puts me down against the cross briefly while he slides on a condom, and then his hands wrap around my thighs as he lifts me again.

”Lift your legs, baby, wrap them round me.”

I feel so weak, but I do as he asks as he wraps my legs around his hips and positions himself beneath me. With one thrust, he's inside me, and I cry out again, listening to his m.u.f.fled moan at my ear. My arms are resting on his shoulders as he thrusts into me. Jeez, it's deep this way. He thrusts again and again, his face at my neck, his harsh breathing at my throat. I feel the build up again. Jeez no... not again... I don't think my body will with-stand another earth-shattering moment. But I have no choice... and with an inevitability that's becoming familiar, I let go and come again, and it's sweet and agonizing and intense.

I lose all sense of self. Christian follows, shouting his release through clenched teeth and holding me hard and close as he does.

He pulls out of me swiftly and sets me down against the cross, his body supporting mine. Unbuckling the cuffs, he frees my hands, and we both sink to the floor. He pulls me into his lap, cradling me, and I lean my head against his chest. If I had the strength, I'd touch him, but I don't. Belatedly, I realize he's still wearing his jeans.

”Well done, baby,” he murmurs. ”Did that hurt?”

”No,” I breathe. I can barely keep my eyes open. Why am I so tired?