Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 18
Hepullsthetipfrommymouth,andhestandsforwardandgrabsmeandkissesmehard,histongueinvadingmymouth.Wrappinghisarmsaroundme,hepullsmeagainsthim.Hischestcrushesmine,andIitchtotouch,butIcan’t,myhandsuselessaboveme.
“Oh,Anastasia,youtastemightyfine,”hebreathes.“ShallImakeyoucome?”
“Please,”Ibeg.
Thecropbitesmybuttock.Ow!
“Please,what?”
“Please,Sir,”Iwhimper.
Hesmilesatme,triumphant.
“Withthis?”HeholdsthecropupsoIcanseeit.
“Yes,Sir.”
“Areyousure?”Helookssternlyatme.
“Yes,please,Sir.”
“Closeyoureyes.”
Ishuttheroomout,himout…thecropout.Hestartssmall,bitinglicksofthecropagainstmybellyoncemore.Movingdown,softsmalllicksagainstmyclitoris,once,twice,threetimes,againandagain,untilfinally,that’sit—Icantakenomore—andIcome,gloriously,loudly,saggingweakly.Hisarmscurlaroundmeasmylegsturntojelly.Idissolveinhisembrace,myheadagainsthischest,andI’mmewlingandwhimperingastheaftershocksofmyorgasmconsumeme.Heliftsme,andsuddenlywe’removing,myarmsstilltetheredabovemyhead,andIcanfeelthecoolwoodofthepolishedcrossatmyback,andhe’spoppingthebuttonsonhisjeans.Heputsmedownagainstthecrossbrieflywhileheslidesonacondom,andthenhishandswraparoundmythighsasheliftsmeagain.
“Liftyourlegs,baby,wrapthemaroundme.”
Ifeelsoweak,butIdoasheasksashewrapsmylegsaroundhishipsandpositionshimselfbeneathme.
