Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 18
He’sstandingbehindme,soclosethatIfeeltheheatradiatingfromhim,warmingme,warmingmeallover.Hepullsmyhairsoit’sallhangingdownmyback,graspsahandfulatmynape,andanglesmyheadtooneside.Herunshisnosedownmyexposedneck,inhalingalltheway,thenbackuptomyear.Themusclesinmybellyclench,carnalandwanting.Jeez,he’shardlytouchedme,andIwanthim.
“Yousmellasdivineasever,Anastasia,”hewhispersasheplacesasoftkissbeneathmyear.
Imoan.
“Quiet,”hebreathes.“Don’tmakeasound.”
Pullingmyhairbehindme,tomysurprise,hestartsbraidingitinonelargebraid,hisfingersfastanddeft.Hetiesitwithanunseenhairtiewhenhe’sfinishedandgivesitaquicktugsoI’mforcedbackagainsthim.
“Ilikeyourhairbraidedinhere,”hewhispers.
Hmm…why?
Hereleasesmyhair.
“Turnaround,”heorders.
IdoasI’mbid,mybreathingshallow,fearandlongingmixedtogether.It’sanintoxicatingmix.
“WhenItellyoutocomeinhere,thisishowyouwilldress.Justinyourpanties.Doyouunderstand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes,what?”Heglowersatme.
“Yes,Sir.”
Atraceofasmileliftsthecornerofhismouth.
“Goodgirl.”Hiseyesburnintomine.“WhenItellyoutocomeinhere,Iexpectyoutokneeloverthere.”Hepointstoaspotbesidethedoor.“Doitnow.”
Iblink,processinghiswords,thenturnandratherclumsilykneelasdirected.
“Youcansitbackonyourheels.”
Isitback.
“Placeyourhandsandforearmsflatonyourthighs.Good.Nowpartyourknees.Wider.Wider.Perfect.
