Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Idoashe’sdone,latheringthesoapinmyhandsuntiltheyarefoamy.Idonottakemyeyesoffhis.Mylipsarepartedtoaccommodatemybreathing…verydeliberatelyIgentlybitemybottomlipandthenrunmytongueacrossit,tracingwheremyteethhavebeen.Hiseyesareseriousanddark,andtheywidenasmytongueskimsmylowerlip.Ireachforwardandplaceoneofmyhandsaroundhim,mirroringhowhe’sholdinghimself.Hiseyesclosebriefly.Wow…feelsmuchfirmerthanIexpected.Isqueeze,andheplaceshishandovermine.

           “Likethis,”hewhispers,andhemoveshishandupanddownwithafirmgriparoundmyfingers,andmyfingerstightenaroundhim.Hecloseshiseyesagain,andhisbreathhitchesinhisthroat.Whenheopensthemagain,hisgazeisscorchingmoltengray.“That’sright,baby.”

           Hereleasesmyhand,leavingmetocontinuealone,andcloseshiseyesasImoveupanddownhislength.HeflexeshishipsslightlyintomyhandandreflexivelyIgrasphimtighter.Alowgroanescapesfromdeepwithinhisthroat.Fuckmymouth…hmm.Irememberhimpushinghisthumbinmymouthandaskingmetosuck,hard.Hismouthdropsopenashisbreathingincreases.Ileanforward,whilehehashiseyesclosed,andplacemylipsaroundhimandtentativelysuck,runningmytongueoverthetip.

           “Whoa…Ana.”Hiseyesflyopen,andIsuckharder.

           Hmm…he’shardandsoftatonce,likesteelencasedinvelvet,andsurprisinglytasty—saltyandsmooth.

           “Christ,”hegroans,andhecloseshiseyesagain.

           Movingdown,Ipushhimintomymouth.Hegroansagain.