The picture that inspired the story…
That dark look has been on his face all week. I thought that a session with Bastille would help him relax but by the stomp and growl routine behind me, apparently not. I smile through the toothpaste bubbles rimming my mouth as I watch him in the mirror. Even bad tempered he’s stunning. I love the way his white tank is clinging to him, the patches of sweat hinting at the definition I know is beneath.
Muttering to himself he disposes of his running shoes and sweatpants in a single motion. With his back to me I spit and rinse quickly, my hungry gaze never once leaving the taut flexing of his outrageously hot ass. I feel like sinking my teeth into it.
It’s been a whole week for us, seven days of zero sex, nothing, nada, zilch! Not because we don’t want to but because my dear husband has been working like a dog. Some deal going south has sent him across the country and away from our bed. To call me frustrated would be an understatement but I’ve never been in this particular predicament with him before. Do I pounce or give him space?
Turning he sees me as if he didn’t even realise I was there, “Hey baby. You gonna’ shower?”
Biting my lip I make a decision, if Bastille didn’t do it for him maybe I can. “I am Mr Grey, why don’t you join me?” I drop my robe to the floor and step out of the fluffy pool at my feet. Flicking back my hair, I fist my waist. My whole body but especially my eyes issue a flash of desire that I’m hoping he won’t, can’t ignore.
His hands freeze midway up his abs on their way to pulling off his tank. I purr as I watch that black look turn to mercury, fluid and alive with sudden possibility. He drags in a breath as he scans the length of creamy, naked flesh I have on proud display, devouring every inch with his eyes.
His hands fall away from his shirt, uninterested in ridding him of it as he moves toward me. “I’ve been neglecting you baby, it’s been crazy. Seeing you like this,” he looks down, again taking his time to really take me in, “I have no idea how I managed that oversight.”
Already my pulse is spiking in anticipation, my sex throbbing in answer. “You’ll just have to make it up to me.” I tilt my head to the side, wearing only a playful coquettish smile to tease him.
He grins, the naughtiest, filthiest grin I’ve ever seen. “I intend to do just that Mrs Grey, do you have any specific requests?”
His words wash over me, that together with the blatant and deliberate lust he uses to enunciate them is lighting an explosive fire in my veins, a sinuous, slow, stoking fire. “I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me. – Hard.”
I see him swallow, his watch drilling into me with a new intensity and maybe a little hesitation. His body is not hesitant, I think as I admire the huge poke of his already swollen erection. Only his mind. Without thinking too hard I decide to take the decision out of his hands. With a bold and forceful fist I clutch a handful of his tee, dragging him into the shower with me. A second later the warm water drenches us and Christian’s white tank is plastered to him like paint.
For the moment he seems to be going along with my dominant Ana act, simply watching me with an ever evolving gaze. Eagerly I grab my cue to take what I want. I let my flat palms slip down his body, loving the way they move over the ridges and valleys that makes up his prized physique.
Dropping to my knees I tease his soaking shirt off his rigid length, I watch him through my lashes wondering if he’ll stop me. When I flick my tongue over the very tip I’m rewarded with not only a hiss but a flicker of his lids and a single hand steadying himself against the glass.
“Fuck!” his jolting reaction is all I need to take him in. Hollowing my cheeks I do away with all gentleness and suck as if my life depends on it. I Work my hot, wet mouth along his hardness with the same speed I’ve seen him use on himself, the forceful hand gripping my hair tells me I’m giving him exactly what he needs.
Just as I get into my stride he yanks himself out of my mouth and hustles me up by the arm. Just like an experienced cop he has me turned and flat against the tiles before I know what’s happening. That hand is in my hair again, gripping a fistful at the nape of my neck; the other has my wrists pinned above my head.
I feel the heat of him behind me, my breasts pushed against the slippery wall. He brings his lips to my ear, “I hope you didn’t think you were in charge Mrs Grey. I say when, I say how.” There’s an edge in his voice, an undeniable dominant tone that calls to everything that is woman inside me. In spite of the hot water I shiver with a delicious thrill that darts straight into my sex.
He licks my cheek with the flat of his tongue, from my jaw to my temple in a move that appears impossibly possessive and assertive at once. Shit that’s hot. I whimper, a pathetic sound that speaks of what little willpower I have to prolong this game. I want him inside me – now.
In an obvious effort to get my way I rub my wet backside against the thick column pressing into me. “Tell me again Anastasia. What do you want?” I hear the sinful grin in his words as he grinds right back.
“Please sir, fuck me.” If my statement wasn’t laced with such heavy desire it would sound like a desperate whine.
He kicks my legs apart and gives me another slow lick along my cheek before he latches onto the softest part to give me a gentle bite. “You’ve got it baby.” He bends his knees, releasing my hair only long enough to pull back my hips. With a sharp, sure stab he impales me with the whole length of him, rocking into me with a heavenly force.
The heady groan that growls out of his chest captures me completely, my restraint hanging by a rapidly fraying thread. His hips are relentless, pumping into me like iron pistons. In no time I start that quivering clench around him, increasing the dragging friction between us.
He bites into my shoulder as his grip in my hair and on my wrists tighten with the gathering strain of his release. “Now baby!” He yells but I couldn’t hold it even if I wanted too. Throwing my head back I shout his name, a prayer, a creed – I don’t know. I’m just grateful for the gift.
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Also, if you enjoyed the Crossfire series by Sylvia Day, check out my two Crossfire short stories: