Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 8
“Yousmelldivine.”Henuzzlesbehindmyear.Hishandrubsagainstme,aroundandaround.Reflexively,myhipsstarttocircle,mirroringhishand,asexcruciatingpleasurespikesthroughmybloodlikeadrenaline.
“Keepstill,”heorders,hisvoicesoftbuturgent,andslowlyheinsertshisthumbinsideme,rotatingitaroundandaround,strokingthefrontwallofmyvagina.Theeffectismind-blowing—allmyenergyconcentratingonthisonesmallspaceinsidemybody.Imoan.
“Youlikethis?”heaskssoftly,histeethgrazingmyouterear,andhestartstoflexhisthumbslowly,in,out,in,out…hisfingersstillcircling.
Iclosemyeyes,tryingtokeepmybreathingundercontrol,tryingtoabsorbthedisordered,chaoticsensationsthathisfingersareunleashingonme,firecoursingthroughmybody.Imoanagain.
“You’resowet,soquickly.Soresponsive.Oh,Anastasia,Ilikethat.Ilikethatalot,”hewhispers.
Iwanttostiffenmylegs,butIcan’tmove.He’spinningmedown,keepingupaconstant,slow,tortuousrhythm.It’sabsolutelyexquisite.Imoanagain,andhemovessuddenly.
“Openyourmouth,”hecommands,andthrustshisthumbinmymouth.Myeyesflyopen,blinkingwildly.
“Seehowyoutaste,”hebreathesagainstmyear.“Suckme,baby.”Histhumbpressesonmytongue,andmymouthclosesaroundhim,suckingwildly.Itastethesaltinessonhisthumbandthefaintmetallictangofblood.Holyfuck.Thisiswrong,butholyhellisiterotic.
“Iwanttofuckyourmouth,Anastasia,andIwillsoon,”hisvoiceishoarse,raw,hisbreathingmoredisjointed.
