Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           It’swhathewants—andafterthelastfewdays…afterallhe’sdone,Ihavetomanupandtakewhateverhedecideshewants,whateverhethinksheneeds.

           ThememoryofhislookwhenIcameinthisevening,thelonginginhisface,hisdeterminedstridetowardmelikeIwasanoasisinthedesert.I’ddoalmostanythingtoseethatlookagain.Ipressmythighstogetheratthedeliciousmemory,anditremindsmethatIneedtospreadmyknees.Ishufflethemapart.Howlongwillhemakemewait?Thewaitiscripplingme,cripplingmewithadarkandtantalizingdesire.Iglancequicklyaroundthesubtlylitroom:thecross,thetable,thecouch,thebench…thatbed.Itloomssolarge,andit’smadeupwithredsatinsheets.Whichpieceofapparatuswillheuse?

           ThedooropensandChristianbreezesin,ignoringmecompletely.Iglancedownquickly,staringatmyhands,positionedwithcareonmyspreadthighs.Placingsomethingonthelargechestbesidethedoor,hestrollscasuallytowardthebed.Iindulgemyselfinaquickglimpseathim,andmyheartalmostlurchestoastop.He’snakedexceptforthosesoftrippedjeans,topbuttoncasuallyundone.Jeez,helookssofreakinghot.Mysubconsciousisfranticallyfanningherself,andmyinnergoddessisswayingandwrithingtosomeprimalcarnalrhythm.She’ssoready.Ilickmylipsinstinctively.Mybloodpoundsthroughmybody,thickandheavywithsalacioushunger.Whatishegoingtodotome?

           Turning,henonchalantlywalksbacktothechestofdrawers.Openingone,hebeginstoremoveitemsandplacethemonthetop.