Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Iwanthimbadly—inspiteofthecar,thebooks,thesoftlimits…thecaning…Iwanthim.

           “It’stakingallmyself-controlnottofuckyouonthehoodofthiscarrightnow,justtoshowyouthatyouaremine,andifIwanttobuyyouafuckingcar,I’llbuyyouafuckingcar,”hegrowls.“Nowlet’sgetyouinsideandnaked.”Heplantsaswiftroughkissonme.

           Boy,he’sangry.Hegrabsmyhandandleadsmebackintotheapartmentandstraightintomybedroom…nopassinggo.Mysubconsciousisbehindthesofaagain,headhiddenunderherhands.Heswitchesonthesidelightandhalts,staringatme.

           “Pleasedon’tbeangrywithme,”Iwhisper.

           Hisgazeisimpassive;hiseyescoldshardsofsmokyglass.

           “I’msorryaboutthecarandthebooks…”Itrailoff.Heremainssilentandbrooding.“Youscaremewhenyou’reangry,”Ibreathe,staringathim.

           Hecloseshiseyesandshakeshishead.Whenheopensthem,hisexpressionhassoftened.Hetakesadeepbreathandswallows.

           “Turnaround,”hewhispers.“Iwanttogetyououtofthatdress.”

           Anothermercurialmoodswing;it’ssohardtokeepup.Obediently,Iturn,andmyheartisthumping,desireinstantlyreplacingunease,coursingthroughmybloodandsettlingdarkandyearning,low,lowinmybelly.Hescoopsmyhairoffmybacksoithangsdownmyrightside,curlingatmybreast.Heplaceshisindexfingeratthenapeofmyneckandachinglyslowlydragsitdownmyspine,hisfingernailgrazingmyskin.

           “Ilikethisdress,”hemurmurs.“Iliketoseeyourflawlessskin.