Cover.html by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-06-22T06:16:20.723794+00:00

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From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Does My Butt Look Big In This?

Date: August 27, 2011 18:53 MST

To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey

I need your sartorial advice.

Yours

Mrs. G x

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Peachy

Date: August 27, 2011 18:55 MST

To: Anastasia Grey

Mrs. Grey

I seriously doubt it.

But I will come and give your butt a thorough examination just to make sure.

Yours in anticipation

Mr. G x

Christian Grey,

CEO Grey Enterprises Holdings and Butt Inspectorate Inc.

As I read his e-mail, the bedroom door opens, and Christian freezes on the

threshold. His mouth pops open and his eyes widen.

Holy crap . . . this could go either way.

“Well?” I whisper.

“Ana, you look . . . Wow.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I guess so.” He’s a little hoarse. Slowly he steps into the room and

closes the door. He’s wearing black jeans and a white shirt, but with a black jack-

et. He looks divine. He stalks slowly toward me, but as soon as he reaches me, he

puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face the full-length mirror,

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while he stands behind me. My gaze finds his in the glass, then he glances down,

fascinated by my naked back. His finger glides down my spine and reaches the

edge of my dress at the small of my back, where pale flesh meets silver cloth.

“This is very revealing,” he murmurs.

His hand skims lower, over my backside and down to my naked thigh. He

pauses, gray eyes burning intently into blue. Then slowly he trails his fingers back

up to the hem of my skirt.

Watching his long fingers move lightly, teasingly across my skin, feeling the

tingles they leave in their wake, my mouth forms a perfect O.

“It’s not far from here.” He touches the hem, then moves his fingers higher.

“To here,” he whispers. I gasp as his fingers stroke my sex, moving tantalizingly

over my panties, feeling me, teasing me.

“And your point is?” I whisper.

“My point is . . . it’s not far from here”—his fingers glide over my panties,

then one is inside, against my soft dampened flesh—“to here. And then . . . to

here.” He slips a finger inside me.

I gasp and make a soft mewling sound.

“This is mine,” he murmurs in my ear. Closing his eyes, he moves his finger

slowly in and out of me. “I don’t want anyone else to see this.”

My breath stutters, my panting matching the rhythm of his finger. Watching

him in the mirror, doing this . . . it’s beyond erotic.

“So be a good girl and don’t bend down, and you should be fine.”

“You approve?” I whisper.

“No, but I’m not going to stop you wearing it. You look stunning, Anastasia.”

Abruptly he withdraws his finger, leaving me wanting more, and he moves around

to face me. He places the tip of his invading finger on my lower lip. Instinctively,

I pucker my lips and kiss it, and I’m rewarded with a wicked grin. He puts his fin-

ger in his mouth and his expression informs me that I taste good . . . real good. I

flush. Will it always shock me when he does that?

He grasps my hand.

“Come,” he orders softly.

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