Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Mysubconsciousisquakingattheknees.He’smadaboutsomething—couldbeJosé,Georgia,nopanties,bitingmylip.Jeez,he’seasytorile.

           “Wherearewegoing?”Ibreathe.

           “Boathouse,”hesnaps.

           IhangontohishipsasI’mtippedupsidedown,andhestridespurposefullyinthemoonlightacrossthelawn.

           “Why?”Isoundbreathless,bouncingonthisshoulder.

           “Ineedtobealonewithyou.”

           “Whatfor?”

           “BecauseI’mgoingtospankandthenfuckyou.”

           “Why?”Iwhimpersoftly.

           “Youknowwhy,”hehisses.

           “Ithoughtyouwereanin-the-momentguy?”Ipleadbreathlessly.

           “Anastasia,I’minthemoment,trustme.”

           Holyfuck.