Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Hecradlesmyhead,histongueexploringmymouth,andIgetasensehe’sexpressinghisgratitude—maybe—formyfirstblowjob?Whoa.

           Hepullsaway,hishandsoneithersideofmyface,staringintentlyintomyeyes.Helookslost.

           “Sayyes,”hewhispersfervently.

           Ifrown,notunderstanding.

           “Towhat?”

           “Yestoourarrangement.Tobeingmine.Please,Ana,”hewhisperspleading,emphasizingthelastwordandmyname.Hekissesmeagain,sweetly,passionately,beforehestandsbackandstaresatme,blinkingslightly.Hetakesmyhandandleadsmebacktohisbedroom,leavingmereeling,soIfollowhimmeekly.Stunned.Hereallywantsthis.

           Inhisbedroom,hestaresdownatmeaswestandbyhisbed.

           “Trustme?”heaskssuddenly.Inod,wide-eyedwiththesuddenrealizationthatIdotrusthim.What’shegoingtodotomenow?Anelectricthrillhumsthroughme.

           “Goodgirl,”hebreathes,histhumbbrushingmybottomlip.Hestepsawayintohisclosetandcomesbackwithasilver-graysilkwoventie.

           “Holdyourhandstogetherinfrontofyou,”heordersashepeelsthetoweloffmeandthrowsitonthefloor.

           Idoasheasks,andhebindsmywriststogetherwithhistie,knottingitfirmly.Hiseyesarebrightwithexcitement.Hetugsatthebinding.It’ssecure.SomeBoyScouthemusthavebeentolearnthisknot.Whatnow?Mypulsehasgonethroughtheroof,myheartbeatingafranticrhythm.Herunshisfingersdownmypigtails.

           “Youlooksoyoungwiththese,”hemurmurs,andmovesforward.Instinctively,ImovebackuntilIfeelthebedagainstthebackofmyknees.