E L James is currently working on the sequel to Fifty Shades of Grey and a new romantic My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey's global enterprise. She finally plucked up the courage to put pen to paper with her first novel,. Fifty Shades of Grey. E L. James is currently working on a new romantic thriller with a. Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your people.
|Language:||English, Spanish, French|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Register to download]|
Download and Read 50 Shades Of Grey Book Part 2 Pdf. plus manuale italiano little league lineup card template plato applied math semester 1 answers. She has found a following that seems very engaged and passionate about Christian Grey and all things 50 Shades. I was not Where do we get Darker by E. L. James for free as a PDF? 20, Views · How do I download 50 Shades Darker as Told by Christian by EL James as a free PDF? Ita really good for free eBooks. If - like me - you wanted more after you read the Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy, this blog is for you. I write fan fiction based on E L James's.
I licked my blistering lips, dry as they were from his kisses and my rapid breaths. I hissed as he found a particularly erogenous spot below my ear, my body bucking into him. In the silence I could hear my heart thump-thumping against his pressed-up chest and I was sure he could feel it bounding as it hammered against its bony cage. When he spoke he did so with his head still buried in my neck, hiding his expression from me. I wanted to tell you in person.
Are… are you mad? What made you decide to do that? I cupped his cheek, mirroring his tenderness as his slate eyes snared mine but I stared right back. No reservations, no doubt and more than anything I want to share parenthood with you. From the very start.
I watched in fascination and a touch of dread as the emotions flitted across his handsome face until he finally settled onto one, matching the colour of his eyes with the intensity of the hopeful light that I could see dawning. His mouth split in two, the arc of his full HD beam as wide as it was joyous. It was — hands down — the best angel-chorus moment. Christian speechless was priceless. I sucked in a relieved breath before offering him an answering smile but before I could his mouth sealed over mine, clashing.
This kiss was something else altogether. He unleashed himself on me; that tightly coiled restraint whipping free, going for a rampage on my lips. It felt as though he wanted to climb inside of me, take me under siege, make us more one that we already were in our married union. Such a Christian question! I thought, almost cringing at the shocking intimacy but my mind was otherwise occupied, my inhibitions tucked into an inaccessible corner.
Seven days to what? I thought vaguely, too possessed by him to care. With impatient hands he pawed me, brutally eager to feel every curve and plane. He was grateful and I took it all, nothing wavering as I held on, my hands fisting his hair, growing more and more desperate for my banked release. One calloused hand, rough as it rasped over my skin, speared between our bodies so that he could grip the top of my panties.
A sure tug had them caught between the lips of my sex allowing the scrap of lace to give me the friction I craved. I moaned — loudly, brazenly, the world falling away so I could concentrate on him and his mind-blowing skills. I was grateful for the support of the wall behind me when Christian broke away, half lidded and panting. I want you to come in my mouth. His filthy words hit my core with a blow, tightening my inner muscles in giddy anticipation.
Already I could feel my orgasm brewing, building, every stroke and kiss charging it. He dropped to his knees, wrenching off my panties with zero regard for the delicate lace. He fused his gaze to my mound, his level stare burning as much as his touch would. My head lolled restlessly against the wall as I mewled my impatience. Again my fingers sought the grip of his hair, wanting to force his mouth onto me.
I could feel his freighting breaths tease me, hot and damp as he folded all but two of my fingers away then placed them right beside my glistening lips. My gasp was more like a pathetic whimper of need. Not only were they directly in front of his ardent mouth but in my full view as well. I could see the sheen of my arousal, the juicy centre poking through the cleft in spite of the fullness of the outer rounds. Oh my fucking my! We gaped at the view for a long minute; shallow breaths gusting before he tore his hooded stare away.
Turning those molten pools onto me he watched through his lashes as he dragged the flat of his tongue along the length of my slit, so agonisingly slow it felt as though my skin was burning, melting. The sensation was astonishingly different, as if moving the nerves altered the way they responded.
It took that second to realise how ensnared I was, in spite of not being bound I was no more mobile. Again he licked, starting with a tiny swirl of his tongue at the heart of my opening before sliding it up and up, the brief contact with my clitoris jolting as a sensual shudder rode me hard.
Tracey Garvis Graves. The Look Of Love: The Sullivans, Book 1. Bella Andre. The List. The Great Escape. Fiona Gibson. A World I Never Made. James LePore. Beautiful Bastard. Christina Lauren. Shadow of Night. Deborah Harkness.
The Last Boyfriend. Nora Roberts. Gabriel's Inferno. Sylvain Reynard. Her Last Letter. Nancy C. The Help. Kathryn Stockett. Me Before You. Jojo Moyes. Cheryl Strayed. Suspicion of Innocence. Barbara Parker.
Gabriel's Rapture. The Innocent. David Baldacci. The Marriage Trap. The Virgin Cure. Ami McKay. Dan Brown. Lover Reborn. The Marriage Mistake. The Litigators. John Grisham. Before I Go To Sleep. Sadie Matthews. From This Moment On: The Sullivans, Book 2. Unfinished Business. The Sullivans, Book 4. Safe Haven. Release Me. Full House.
Maeve Binchy. Entwined with You. If You Were Mine: The Sullivans. City of Lost Souls. Cassandra Clare. Can't Help Falling In Love: Eighty Days Yellow.
With what little strength I had I lifted a leg so he could secure it around him. Swiftly, gracefully he turned and moved us to the new bench. He set me down on my bottom and again sank to his knees on the floor.
Instantly his earlier comment about the height of the piece explained itself. Our bodies were perfectly aligned for penetration, him kneeling on the floor and me on top of the seat. He gave me a wicked grin, self-assured brow cocked as he took himself in hand, stroking. I sat back, legs apart and supporting myself on my hands behind my back as I took in his virile maleness, not for the first time marvelling at the fact that he was mine.
He ran his plush head along the length of me, gathering all the glossy wetness and reigniting tissues that I thought would be sated after that shattering spend. Around his mouth I saw the sheen of my lust, glistening in the low light. When he curled a finger to call me closer I met him eagerly, kissing, tasting, loving the feel of him now that I was able to scrape my nails over the ripped muscles of his broad back. Hold on to the edge. I curled my hands around the side of the bench as I flattened myself onto the surface.
In this position I was stretched out perfectly, as though the seat was made with my proportions in mind. All I could do was straighten them, open wide and balance on my flexed toes.
Christian wasted no time adjusting me to suit his amorous plans. He gripped my legs from behind, just above my knees to spread me wider, careful not to strain my muscles that were still warm and lax from my orgasm. Gently he pushed until my legs were completely open, running along the line of the edge as they joined my torso on the padded top. Silently I thanked my mom for the endless supply of Pilates DVDs she plied me with over the last two years, keeping me supple enough to hold what was basically a full split pose.
It seemed that he was bringing the red room into our everyday lives in the form of innocuous pieces of furniture whose real purpose would be a secret only the two of us shared. The stretch of my opening immediately made it feel hollow, yearning for the fullness only his girth could give me but he was toying with us, withholding. His strong hands kneaded into the soft globes of my behind, fingers digging firmly into my flesh.
I love looking at it. I knew his stormy gaze was locked to the valley between my cheeks and all the delights it held there. The slippery trickle of lubrication my body produced whenever he was near was now closer to a gush.
His gravelly moan filled my senses as it reverberated through me. As his fingers massaged my ass, the movements skimming my clitoris against the seat below with maddening unpredictability, I could feel his thumbs on either side of my entrance — pressing, pushing, gently prying the sides away from each other.
It was deliciously torturous, making me extremely aware of the growing emptiness that simply had to be filled. Tell me! I revelled in the fact that he too was hanging by a thread. His need made obvious by his edgy, frenzied grip on my butt, his hands almost shaking as they held onto a clutch of flesh. He slammed into me, the force of his drive rocking me forward and ripping a hoarse scream of joy from my throat.
I had no time to adjust to the intrusion, no time to think.
His hips, pistoning, set up a punishing rhythm, his rigid column dragging over my rippling core muscles. Every pound rocked the extended bud between the lips of my sex, the relentless, even pace the perfect stimulation to get me off.
With my head turned to one side I could see Christian from the corner of my eye. He was magnificent, perfectly crafted. His head was thrown back, neck and shoulder muscles defined, roped with strain. Gasping and frantic we tipped then fell. Hurtling, unstoppable we shared a frenetic race towards a spectacular finish, pulsing and spasming together.
His sweat slicked chest blanketed my fevered back as he collapsed over me, wrung out and heaving hard. The weight of him on me was just what I needed, gravity grounding me again after the mind altering moment we just shared.
Despite the veneer of jest, the sudden lightness of mood we knew, beneath it all, we were both deeply affected. For now there was no need to dissect it to death, the moment had spoken for itself. We lay quietly, both processing in our own way as a beautifully song filtered from the iPod, poignantly befitting for the moment — Underneath by Adam Lambert. Thank you Grueblue for the song suggestions Be kind and review, please.