Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian

Her eyes flash with obvious delight and her fingers rifle through my pocket, diving deep, brushing my erection.

Ah…

She produces both foil packets and tosses them onto the bed beside me. Her fumbling fingers reach for the button on my waistband, and after two attempts she undoes it.

Her naïveté is captivating. It’s obvious that she’s never done this before. Another first…and it’s fucking arousing.

“So eager, Miss Steele,” I tease.

She yanks down my zipper and, pulling at my waistband, gives me a look of frustration.

I try hard not to laugh.

Yeah, baby, how are you going to get these off me now?

Shuffling down my legs, she tugs at my jeans, concentrating hard, looking adorable. And I decide to help her out. “I can’t keep still if you’re going to bite that lip,” I say while arching my hips, lifting them off the bed.

Rising up on her knees, she pulls down my jeans and boxers and I kick them off, onto the floor. She sits across me, eyeing my cock and licking her lips.

Whoa.

She looks hot, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her breasts.

“Now what are you going to do?” I whisper. Her eyes flick to my face and she reaches up and grasps me firmly, squeezing hard, her thumb brushing over the tip.

Jesus.

She leans down.

And I’m in her mouth.

Fuck.

She sucks hard. And my body flexes beneath her. “Jeez, Ana, steady,” I hiss through my teeth. But she shows no mercy as she fellates me again and again. Fuck. Her enthusiasm is disarming. Her tongue is up and down, I’m in and out of her mouth to the back of her throat, her lips tight around me. It’s an overwhelming erotic vision. I could come just watching her.

“Stop, Ana, stop. I don’t want to come.”

She sits up, her mouth moist and her eyes two dark pools directed down at me.

“Your innocence and enthusiasm are very disarming.” But right now I want to fuck you so I can see you. “You, on top, that’s what we need to do. Here, put this on.” I place a condom in her hand. She examines it with consternation, then rips the packet open with her teeth.

She’s keen.

She removes the condom and looks to me for direction.

“Pinch the top and then roll it down. You don’t want any air in the end of that sucker.”

She nods and does exactly that, absorbed in her task, concentrating hard, her tongue peeking between her lips.

“Christ, you’re killing me here,” I exclaim through clenched teeth.

When she’s done she sits back and admires her handiwork, or me—I’m not quite sure, but I don’t care. “Now. I want to be buried inside you.” I sit up suddenly so we’re face-to-face, surprising her. “Like this,” I whisper, and, wrapping my arm around her, I lift her. With my other hand I position my cock and lower her slowly onto me.

My breath escapes from my body as her eyes close and pleasure thrums noisily in her throat.

“That’s right, baby, feel me, all of me.”

She. Feels. So. Good.

I hold her, letting her get used to the feel of me. Like this. Inside her. “It’s deep this way.” My voice is hoarse, as I flex and tilt my pelvis, pushing deeper into her.

Her head lolls as she moans. “Again,” she breathes. And she opens her eyes and they blaze into mine. Wanton. Willing. I love that she loves this. I do as I’m asked and she moans again, throwing back her head, her hair tumbling in a riot over her shoulders. Slowly I recline onto the bed to watch the show.

“You move, Anastasia, up and down, how you want. Take my hands.” I hold them out and she grabs them, steadying herself on top of me. Slowly she eases herself up, then sinks back down onto me.

My breath is coming in short, sharp pants as I restrain myself. She lifts herself again and this time I raise my hips to meet her as she comes down.

Oh yes.

Closing my eyes, I savor every delicious inch of her. Together we find our rhythm as she rides me. Over and over and over. She looks fantastic: her breasts bouncing, her hair swinging, her mouth slack as she absorbs each stab of pleasure.

Her eyes meet mine, full of carnal need and wonder. God, she’s beautiful.

She cries out as her body takes over. She’s almost there, so I tighten my grip on her hands, and she ignites around me. I grab her hips, holding her as she shouts incoherently through her orgasm. Then I tighten my hold on her hips and silently lose myself as I explode inside her.

She flops down onto my chest, and I lie, panting, beneath her.

My God, she’s a good fuck.

We lie together for a moment, her weight a comfort. She stirs and nuzzles me through my shirt, then splays her hand on top of my chest.

The darkness slithers, quick and strong, into my chest, into my throat, threatening to suffocate and choke me.

No. Don’t touch me.

I grab her hand and bring her knuckles to my lips, and roll over on top of her so she’s no longer able to touch me.

“Don’t,” I plead, and kiss her lips as I dampen down my fear.

“Why don’t you like to be touched?”

“Because I’m fifty shades of fucked up, Anastasia.” After years and years of therapy, it’s the one thing I know to be true.

Her eyes widen, inquisitive; she’s thirsty for more information. But she doesn’t need to know this shit. “I had a very tough introduction to life. I don’t want to burden you with the details. Just don’t.” I gently brush my nose against hers and, withdrawing from her, I sit up and remove the condom and drop it by the bed. “I think that’s all the very basics covered. How was that?”