“Do you like being rich?”“Yes. Show me someone who doesn’t,” he says darkly.”

“I need you, Anastasia," he whispers."I need you, too." And as I say the words, I am struck how true they are. I cannot imagine being without Christian, ever."Let me love you." he says hoarsely."Yes," I answer.”

“Let me love you," he says hoarsely."Yes," I answer, and turning, he hauls me into his arms, his lips seeking mine, beseeching me, worshipping me, cherishing me...loving me.”

“No. No!” he says.“I . . .” He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don’t know.“You can’t go. Ana, I love you!”“I love you, too, Christian, it’s just—”“No . . . no!” he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head. “Christian . . .”“No,” he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t move. What? “Christian, what are you doing?”He continues to stare down, not looking at me. “Christian! What are you doing?”My voice is high-pitched. He doesn’t move. “Christian, look at me!” I command in panic. His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze—he’s almost serene . . . expectant.Holy Fuck . . . Christian. The submissive.”

“Do you want me to kiss you. Anastasia?" he whispers softly in my ear."Yes," I breathe."Where?""Everywhere.”

“There's a joy in my helplessness, joy in my surrender to him, and to know that he can lose himself in me the way he wants to. I can do this. He takes me to these dark places, places I didn't know existed, and together we fill them with blinding light. Oh yes...blazing, blinding light." -Anastasia Steele”

“Yes, I'm rich. Get use to it. -- Christian Grey”