I blink at him. Praying! Praying for you to go easy on me. I do as I'm told. He takes a cable tie and fastens it around my wrists, tightening the plastic. Holy hell. My eyes fly to his.
"Look familiar," he asks, unable to conceal his smile.
Jeez... the plastic cable ties. Restocking at Clayton's! It all becomes clear. I gape up at him as adrenaline spikes though my body anew. Okay - that's got my attention - I'm awake now.
"I have scissors here." He holds them up for me to see. "I can cut you out of this in a moment."
I try to pull my wrists apart, testing my bonds, and as I do, the plastic bites into my flesh - it's sore, but if I relax my wrists they're fine - the tie is not cutting into my skin.
"Come." He takes my hands and leads me over to the four-poster bed. I notice now that it has dark red sheets on it and a shackle at each corner.
"I want more - much, much more," he leans down and whispers in my ear.
And my heartbeat starts pounding again. Oh boy.
"But I'll make this quick. You're tired. Hold on to the post," he says.
I frown. Not on the bed then I find I can part my hands as I grasp the ornately carved wooden post.
"Lower," he orders. "Good. Don't let go. If you do, I'll spank you. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good."
He stands behind me and grasps my hips, and then quickly lifts me backward so I'm bending forward, holding the post.
"Don't let go, Anastasia," he warns. "I'm going to f**k you hard from behind. Hold the post to support your weight. Understand?"
"Yes."
He smacks me across my behind with his hand. Ow... It stings.
"Yes, Sir," I mutter quickly.
"Part your legs." He puts his leg between mine, and holding my hips, he pushes my right leg to the side.
"That's better. After this, I'll let you sleep."
SleepI'm panting. I'm not thinking of sleep now. He reaches up and gently strokes my back.
"You have such beautiful skin, Anastasia," he breathes as he bends down and kisses me along my spine, gentle feather-light kisses. At the same time, his hands move round to my front palming my br**sts, and as he does this, he traps my ni**les between his fingers and tugs them gently.
I stifle my moan as I feel my whole body respond, coming alive once more for him.
He gently bites and sucks me at my waist, tugging my ni**les, and my hands tighten on the exquisitely carved post. His hands drop away, and I hear the now familiar tear of foil, and he kicks off his jeans.
"You have such a captivating, sexy ass, Anastasia Steele. What I'd like to do to it."
His hands smooth and shape each of my bu**ocks, then his fingers glide down, and he slips two fingers inside me.
"So wet. You never disappoint, Miss Steele," he whispers, and I hear the wonder in his voice. "Hold tight... this is going to be quick, baby."
He grabs my hips and positions himself, and I brace myself for his assault. But he reaches over me and grabs my braid near the end and winds it round his wrist to my nape holding my head in place. Very slowly he eases into me, pulling my hair at the same time... oh the fullness. He eases out of me slowly, and his other hand grabs my hip, holding tight, and then he slams into me, jolting me forward.
"Hold on, Anastasia!" he shouts through clenched teeth.
I grip harder round the post and push back against him as he continues his merciless onslaught, again and again, his fingers digging into my hip. My arms are aching, my legs feel uncertain, my scalp is getting sore from his tugging my hair... and I can feel a gathering deep inside me. Oh no... and for the first time, I fear my orgasm... if I come...
I'll collapse. Christian continues to move roughly against me, in me, his breathing harsh, moaning, groaning. My body is responding ... how I feel a quickening. But suddenly, Christian stills, slamming really deep.
"Come on, Ana, give it to me," he groans, and my name on his lips sends me over the edge as I become all body and spiraling sensation and sweet, sweet release, and then completely and utterly mindless.
When sense returns, I'm lying on him. He's on the floor, and I'm lying on top of him, my back to his front, and I'm staring at the ceiling, all post-coital, glowing, shattered. Oh...
the karabiners, I think absently - I'd forgotten about those. Christian nuzzles my ear.
"Hold up your hands," he says softly.
My arms feel like they're made of lead, but I hold them up. He wields the scissors and passes one blade under the plastic.
"I declare this Ana open," he breathes, and cuts the plastic.
I giggle and rub my wrists as they're freed. I feel his grin.
"That is such a lovely sound," he says wistfully. He sits suddenly, taking me with him so that I'm once more sitting in his lap.
"That's my fault," he says and shifts me so that he can rub my shoulders and arms.
Gently he massages some life back into my limbs
What?
I glance up at him behind me, trying to understand what he means.
"That you don't giggle more often."
"I'm not a great giggler," I mumble sleepily.
"Oh, but when it happens, Miss Steele, 'tis a wonder and joy to behold."
"Very flowery, Mr. Grey," I mutter, trying to keep my eyes open.
His eyes soften, and he smiles.
"I'd say you're thoroughly f**ked and in need of sleep."
"That wasn't flowery at all," I grumble playfully.
He grins and gently lifts me off him and stands, gloriously naked. I wish momentarily that I were more awake to really appreciate him. Picking up his jeans, he slides them back on, commando.
"Don't want to frighten Taylor, or Mrs. Jones for that matter," he mutters.