Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Heraiseshiseyebrowsashishandmovesupanddownhisimpressivelength.

           “Ajoke?”Hisvoiceismenacinglysoft.

           “Yes.Please,Christian,”Ibeseechhim.

           “Areyoulaughingnow?”

           “No,”Imewl.

           I’maballofsexualtenseneed.Hestaresdownatmeforamoment,measuringmyneed,thenhegrabsmesuddenlyandflipsmeover.Ittakesmebysurprise,andbecausemyhandsaretied,Ihavetosupportmyselfonmyelbows.Hepushesbothmykneesupthebedsomybehindisintheair,andheslapsmehard.BeforeIcanreact,heplungesinsideme.Icryout—fromtheslapandfromhissuddenassault,andIcomeinstantlyagainandagain,fallingapartbeneathhimashecontinuestoslamdeliciouslyintome.Hedoesn’tstop.I’mspent.Ican’ttakethis…andhepoundsonandonandon…thenI’mbuildingagain…surelynot…no…

           “Comeon,Anastasia,again,”hegrowlsthroughclenchedteeth,andunbelievably,mybodyresponds,convulsingaroundhimasIclimaxanew,callingouthisname.Ishatteragainintotinyfragments,andChristianstills,finallylettinggo,silentlyfindinghisrelease.Hecollapsesontopofme,breathinghard.

           “Hownicewasthat?”heasksthroughhisgrittedteeth.

           Ohmy.

           Iliepantingandspentonthebed,eyesclosedasheslowlypullsoutofme.Herisesimmediatelyanddresses.Whenhe’sfullyclothed,heclimbsbackonthebedandgentlyundoesmybindingandpullsmyT-shirtoff.Iflexmyfingersandrubmywrists,smilingatthewovenpatternimprintedonmywristsfromthetie.Ireadjustmybraashepullstheduvetandquiltoverme.