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E.L. James

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“He tastes of white wine and apple pie and Christian. I run my fingers through his hair, holding him to me while our tongues explore and curl and twist around each other, my blood heating in my veins.We're breathless when Christian pulls away.”
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“It's much easier to wear your pain on the outside...”
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“My inner goddes has her sequins on and is warming up to dance the rumba.”
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“Oh Christian... my possessive, jealous, control freak Christian.”
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“I want you sore, baby,” he murmurs, and he continues his sweet, leisurely torment, backward, forward. “Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here. Only me. You are mine.”
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“Oh my.”
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“You love strapping me in, don’t you?” “In any form,” he says, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “You are a pervert.” “I know.” He raises his eyebrows and his grin broadens. “My pervert,” I whisper. “Yes, yours.”
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“I want you, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It’s very new. I need to know that we’re okay. It’s the only way I know how.” “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” I whisper. His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, all my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the patch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire—I want to taste him there. He’s so close, but he doesn’t touch me. His heat is warming my skin. “I’m not going to touch you until you say yes,” he says softly. “But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us.”
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“This way,” he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once more, but he doesn’t start his usual punishing rhythm straight away. He leans over, releases my hands, and pulls me upright so I am practically sitting on him. His hands move up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugging gently on my nipples. I groan, tossing my head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles my neck, biting down, as he flexes his hips, deliciously slowly, filling me again and again. “Do you know how much you mean to me?” he breathes against my ear. “No,” I gasp.He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl around my jaw and throat, holding me fast for a moment. “Yes, you do. I’m not going to let you go.” I groan as he picks up speed. “You are mine, Anastasia.” “Yes, yours,” I pant. “I take care of what’s mine,” he hisses and bites my ear.”
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“Cold?” Christian asks softly and bends to lick and suckle all the ice cream off me once more, his mouth hot compared to the cool of the ice. Oh my. It’s torture. As it starts to melt, the ice cream runs off me in rivulets on to the bed. His lips continue their slow torture, sucking hard, nuzzling, softly—Oh please!—I’m panting. “Want some?” And before I can confirm or deny his offer, his tongue is in my mouth, and it’s cold and skilled and tastes of Christian and vanilla. Delicious.”
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“I gasp, and his mouth swoops down. He’s kissing me, violently. Briefly our teeth clash, then his tongue is in my mouth. Desire explodes like the Fourth of July throughout my body, and I’m kissing him back, matching his fervor, my hands knotting in his hair, pulling it, hard. He groans, a low sexy sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through me, and his hand moves down my body to the top of my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh through the plum dress. I pour all the angst and heartbreak of the last few days into our kiss, binding him to me, and it hits me—in this moment of blinding passion—he’s doing the same, he feels the same.”
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“I struggle to keep up with him because my wits have been thoroughly and royally scattered all over the floor and walls of elevator three in the Heathman Hotel.”
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“[Ana] “You’re a sadist?”“I’m a Dominant.” His eyes are a scorching gray, intense.“What does that mean?” I whisper.“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things.”I frown at him as I try to assimilate this idea.“Why would I do that?”“To please me,” he whispers as he cocks his head to one side, and I see a ghost of a smile.Please him! He wants me to please him! I think my mouth drops open. Please Christian Grey. And I realize, in that moment, that yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. I want him to be damned delighted with me. It’s a revelation.”
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“His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bite my lip.“Oh, fuck the paperwork,” he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, he’s got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip above my head, and he’s pinning me to the wall using his hips. Holy shit. His other hand grabs my ponytail and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. It’s only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this.”
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“You love me,” I whisper.His eyes widen further and his mouth opens. He takes a huge breath as if winded. He looks tortured—vulnerable.“Yes,” he whispers. “I do.”
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“We aim to please Miss Steele”
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“Christian Grey just sent me a winkey ... Oh my. I fire up Google.”
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“Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high.”
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“You know, you’re topping from the bottom,” he murmurs against my lips.“What?” I don’t understand what he’s talking about.“Don’t worry. I’ll live with it,” he whispers, amused...”
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“Oh, fuck the paperwork”
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“I love you and all your kinky fuckery”
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“You’re the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see.”
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“Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?” Holy shit. Did I just say that? His mouth drops open slightly, but he recovers quickly.“No, Anastasia it doesn’t. Firstly, I don’t make love. I fuck… hard. Secondly, there’s a lot more paperwork to do, and thirdly, you don’t yet know what you’re in for. You could still run for the hills. Come, I want to show you my playroom.”My mouth drops open. Fuck hard! Holy shit, that sounds so… hot. But why are we looking at a playroom? I am mystified.“You want to play on your Xbox?” I ask. He laughs, loudly. “No, Anastasia, no Xbox, no Playstation. Come.”… Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocks yet another door and takes a deep breath.“You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on stand-by to take you whenever you want to go, you can stay the night and go home in the morning. It’s fine whatever you decide.”“Just open the damn door, Christian.”He opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him once more. I so want to know what’s in here. Taking a deep breath I walk in.And it feels like I’ve time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.Holy fuck.”
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“Don’t leave me,” he whispers.“Oh, for crying out loud—no! I am not going to go!” I shout and it’s cathartic. There, I’ve said it. I am not leaving.“Really?” His eyes widen.“What can I do to make you understand I will not run? What can I say?”He gazes at me, revealing his fear and anguish again. He swallows. “There is one thing you can do.”“What?” I snap.“Marry me,” he whispers.”
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“We’ve chased the dawn, Anastasia, now the dusk.”
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“I love him. Simple.”
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“I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can’t love me.”
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“Of course. Silly me. Such a sad, exciting score, which no doubt you can play? So many accomplishments, Mr. Grey.”“And the greatest one is you, Miss Steele.”
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“I would have told you earlier, but as it was your birthday . . . What do you give the man who has everything? I thought I’d give you . . . me.”He puts the keychain down on the bedside table and snuggles in beside me, pulling me into his arms against his chest so that we’re spooning.“It’s perfect. Like you.”
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“You wanted hearts and flowers,” he murmurs.I blink at him, not quite believing what I’m seeing.“You have my heart.” And he waves toward the room.“And here are the flowers,” I whisper, completing his sentence. “Christian, it’s lovely.”
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“Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” I ask sweetly. Pompous ass.”
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“My heart beat spikes, and I think I’m panting. Jeez, I’m a quivering, moist mess, and he hasn’t even touched me. I squirm in my seat and meet his dark glare.”
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“I thought I'd broken you.""Broken? Me? Oh no, Ana. Just the opposite."He reaches out and takes my hand. "You're my lifeline'" he whispers.”
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“His words make me squirm. He wouldn’t dare! He and his twitchy palm.”
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“You don’t play fair.' I pout. 'I know.”
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“Crusty and Cross here,' he says and I grin. He’s still playful Fifty. My inner goddess is clapping her hands with glee like a small child.”
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“Miss Steele, I do believe you’re making my palm twitch.”
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“Fifty, Fifty, Fifty... give me strength.”
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“Why, oh why have I fallen for someone who is plain crazy—beautiful, sexy as fuck, richer than Croesus, and crazy with a capital K?”
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“A controlling man, surely a mythical creature?”
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“He pulls up outside my duplex. I belatedly realize he’s not asked me where I live - yet he knows. But then he sent the books, of course he knows where I live. What able, cell-phone-tracking, helicopter owning, stalker wouldn’t.”
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“From his inside jacket pocket he produces a ring and gazes up at me, his eyes bright gray and raw, full of emotion. "Anastasia Steele, I love you. I want to love, cherish and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me".”
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“There's something about you Anastasia, that calls to me on some deep level I don't understand. It's a siren's call. I can't resist you, and I don't want to lose you.... don't run, please - have a little faith in me and a little patience please”
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“His magic is powerful, intoxicating. I'm a butterfly caught in his net, unable and unwilling to escape. I'm his ....... totally his". (Ana to Christian)”
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“Let me ask you something first. Do you want a regular vanilla relationship with no kinky fu*kery at all?”
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“I'm anything but fine. I feel like the sun has set and not risen for five days, Ana. I'm in perpetual night here".”
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“Oh, baby, we both know that if you throw down the gauntlet I'll be only too happy to pick it up".”
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“I haven't mentioned her to Flynn, and I'm glad because I'm now behaving like a stalker. Perhaps I should let him know".”
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“I don't know any other way. Anastasia. This is who I am.”
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“Your stepfather? I'd like to meet him."Oh no... why?"I'm not sure that's a good idea."Christian unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line."Are you ashamed of me?""No!" It's my turn to sound exasperated. "Introduce you to my dad as what? 'This is the man who deflowered me and wants to start a BDSM relationship'. You're not wearing running shoes.”
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