I write fan fiction based on E L James's gripping books and more. Fifty Shades Meander is a multi chapter story that continues in the same vein as the originals and, along with some one shot stories, are found in the sidebar. I also host a book club on Sundays. This blog contains mature content — strictly over 18's! Chapter 18 Oh my! I push the thought away, eager to indulge in a bit of Mr Grey. This suite that I could hardly bear to enter into an hour ago has now become the perfect place for our reunion.
His answering grin is scorching, completely in tune with the hunger in his eyes and his impatient erection. Not sure what toy I want to play with first, greedy to get my hands on as much as possible of his flesh. He crawls up, between my legs where he stops to rid me of my sodden panties. He slings it away carelessly, his ogling eyes never leaving the naked place they covered. He takes his sweet, torturous time — luxuriating in his private viewing activity.
He makes no move to touch me but the ravenous mould of his face is pushing me to run up the steps of desire, taking them three at a time.
I shift in needy response. He growls, low in his chest while he grips my inner thighs, pushing them apart. His hands slip around, cupping my backside as he pushes his nose into my sex, inhaling deeply. Oh my fucking my!
When he comes away I catch his gaze. His eyes look unfocussed — cross-eyed with lust. He swiftly stretches to cover my body with his, kissing me wildly.
He raids my mouth mercilessly, our arms and legs tangling and writhing, taking in the exquisite pleasure of intimate contact. He rolls taking me with him and we pause for air, our breaths mingling and faces flushed.
With my body on top of his I stroke my hand over the sprinkling of stubble, reacquainting myself with every curve and dip of his face. His silky voice is dripping with erotic promise. I scoot up, eager to find out what passionate delight he has in store for me. It only takes a second for me to grasp the nature of the deeply intimate act he has in mind and I gnaw at my lip, my coyness getting the better of me.
My legs are bent with my knees resting on either side of his head. My bottom sits on his chest, taking my weight which leaves my secret opening utterly gaping and vulnerable, not to mention very close to his sinful mouth. I can feel his breath on me, fluttering and making my heart stutter. With his eyes securely fastened to mine his intent is unwavering and unaffected by my modesty.
His sure hands move around and grip my backside firmly, holding me in place. I get a sense of how easy it will be for him to control my pelvic movements from this position and it stirs me, being in his power like this. With my head bowed forward, the loose tendrils of my hair spill over my shoulders and cover my breasts; only the hard tips of my nipples are peeking from between the strands.
His eyes linger on them for a moment before he presses me onto his mouth. I brace myself on rigid arms, my hands flat on the bed just above his head. He takes full advantage of my breasts so close to his face, clamping a hot mouth over the bud and sucking hard. I shudder and mewl in ecstasy. When I try to right myself to sit up again; he bites down before letting me go. Avaricious velvet licks at me with long wet strokes and I lose all reason, focussing fiercely on that one tiny spot of overriding pleasure.
His tongue slips inside me and my body tenses at the unexpected intrusion before avidly relaxing into it, slicking in response.
He usually likes to watch me react to his ministrations but now his eyes are closed and rapture is what I read on his face. He breaks the contact and gently blows on my sensitive, heated flesh, cooling but not calming. I whimper, violent desire slamming into me.
I want to see you. This is so intimate, so hot, so very Christian and I want nothing more than to please him. I reach for my breasts and cup them. I knead and squeeze and hear his appreciative groan.
It spurs me on and I run my hands all over my chest and breasts, pushing them together before I start on my nipples. He spears me with his tongue but his eyes are on me, following every swipe and swirl of my hands.
I push myself onto his strong tongue. His eyes crinkle at the corners, indicating a smile at my eagerness. When he flexes his tongue I pinch my nipples — hard and gasp. I can feel the orgasm building, my body awash with sexy sensation. Then he licks me over the length of my sex, finding my swollen clitoris and the spiralling begins, spinning like a top.
He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and rims me with an exploring finger to check for lubrication. We moan together and our union is complete. Immediately he starts to move, his strokes long and hard — unerring. His hands curl into my hair, pinning my head in place. His zealous desire is driving him on and I revel in him getting lost in me. He angles his hips, impatient to feel the length of me. We lock our gazes, twin expressions of reverential love and wonder on display for one another.
In moments like these our connection is so strong, so deep I realise why I sometimes think it must be fantasy. Watching him I climb again, emotional and physical stimulation colliding to bring me to the cliff again where I pause for a second.
He senses my body start its telling tremble. Eyes closed he kisses my inner thigh, next to his ear then gently unhooks my leg. With languid bodies and tangled limbs we lie facing each other and silently marvel at our dazzling reunion — sated for now. He anticipates my apology like he can read my mind, grasping that my guilt still makes me feel unworthy. I make a mental note to apply myself to coming up with ways to show him how much I regret our separation and how much I love and trust him.
While we wait we can take a shower. I pad across the room to the bathroom and join him in the cascading water. Both hands are in his hair massaging shampoo into his scalp, making his biceps bulge and my satiety disappears along with my shyness. I move right up to his back and run my hands along his sculpted form, easily gliding around the slick curves. He catches my wrist and steps forward while pulling me close. When I open them again I enjoy watching him get knocked askew by the profound need he sees in their depths.
His hands mirror his lips, plundering every inch of my skin he can reach, rubbing, moulding, scorching. I reciprocate as hard and as fast as I can, never more grateful that he tolerates my touch.
His lips make it to my ear, nipping and licking me closer to the building quake inside of me. I take the not so subtle hint and band my legs around him. Without preamble he fills me, pounding hard and I take every thick slide of him drilling me to the slippery tiles. A tenacious finger dives between us, quickening my clitoris with expert pressure.
My senses are so overwhelmed all I can do is hold on for the inevitable shattering. His head bends to my chest where his tongue swipes across the ink — worshipping his name, written these as a sign of his possession. I splinter into a million pieces, forgetting myself, only aware of him pulsing wildly inside me. Was it always like this? I rake my memories while we catch our breaths, his face in my neck with my arms holding him there.
He pushes back my hair, his fingers finding and releasing hairpins as they go before he starts washing it, massaging my head with his glorious strong fingers. He keeps his focus trained on his hands working my scalp and takes a steeling breath.
My heart jams with emotion for him, packed full — I feel the same way. I decide there and then not to sully our new union with mind games and reservations. I want to give him the gift of certainty. There was a time when he would refuse to believe that he was worth loving. We slip on fluffy white robes and Christian waits while I twist my hair in a towel.
He takes my hand and we share a besotted look before we head to the lounge, ditching the idea of the formal table for dinner.
It comes as no surprise that the food is stunning. While we eat we slip effortlessly into chatting. Christian tells me about his trip to Seoul and he seems pleased with the outcome even though the whole ordeal sounds insanely stressful however, you would never say it looking at the fantastically handsome and relaxed man in front of me.
My lips tug into a smile which he instantly answers with a questioning brow, probably because of the rosy flush accompanying it. I drop my watch as my teeth find my lip.
His fingers are quick to release it, pinching it gently away.