Unknown - fifty shades darker

He withdraws his finger briefly and with tender care, inserts the balls one at a time, pushing them deep inside me. Once they are in position, he smoothes my panties back into place and kisses my backside. Running his hands up each of my legs from ankle to thigh, he gently kisses the top of each thigh where my hold-ups finish.

“You have fine, fine legs, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.

Standing, he grasps my hips and pulls my behind against him so I feel his erection.

“Maybe I’ll have you this way when we get home, Anastasia. You can stand now.” I feel giddy, beyond aroused as the weight of the balls push and pull inside me. Leaning down from behind me Christian kisses my shoulder.

“I bought these for you to wear to last Saturday’s gala.” He puts his arm around me and holds out his hand. In his palm rests a small red box with Cartier inscribed on the lid. “But you left me, so I never had the opportunity to give them to you.” Oh!

“This is my second chance,” he murmurs, his voice stiff with some unnamed emotion.

He’s nervous.

Tentatively, I reach for the box and open it. Inside shines a pair of drop earrings. Each has four diamonds, one at the base, then a gap, then three perfectly spaced diamonds hanging one after the other. They’re beautiful, simple, and classic. What I would choose myself, if I were ever given the opportunity to shop at Cartier.

“They’re lovely,” I whisper, and because they are second-chance earrings, I love them.

“Thank you.”

He relaxes against me as the tension leaves his body, and he kisses my shoulder again.

“You’re wearing the silver satin dress?” he asks.

“Yes? Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’ll let you get ready.” He heads out the door without a backward glance.

I have entered an alternate universe. The young woman staring back at me looks worthy of a red carpet. Her strapless, floor-length, silver satin gown is simply stunning. Maybe I’ll write to Caroline Acton myself. It’s fitted and flatters what little curves I have.

My hair falls in soft waves around my face, spilling over my shoulders to my breasts. I tuck one side behind my ear, revealing my second-chance earrings. I have kept my makeup to a minimum, a natural look. Eyeliner, mascara, a little pink blush, and pale pink lipstick.

I don’t really need the blush. I am slightly flushed from the constant movement of the silver balls. Yes, they’ll guarantee I have some color in my cheeks tonight. Shaking my head at the audacity of Christian’s erotic ideas, I lean down to collect my satin wrap and silver clutch purse and go in search of my Fifty Shades.

He is talking to Taylor and three other men in the hallway, his back to me. Their surprised, appreciative expressions alert Christian to my presence. He turns as I stand and wait awkwardly.

Holy cow! My mouth dries. He looks stunning . . . Black dinner suit, black bow tie, and his expression as he gazes at me is one of awe. He strolls toward me and kisses my hair.

“Anastasia. You look breathtaking.”

I flush at this compliment in front of Taylor and the other men.

“A glass of champagne before we go?”

“Please,” I murmur, far too quickly.

Christian nods to Taylor who heads into the foyer with his three cohorts.

In the great room, Christian retrieves a bottle of champagne from the fridge.

“Security team?” I ask.

“Close protection. They’re under Taylor’s control. He’s trained in that, too.” Christian hands me a champagne flute.

“He’s very versatile.”

“Yes, he is.” Christian smiles. “You look lovely, Anastasia. Cheers.” He raises his glass, and I clink it with mine. The champagne is a pale rose color. It tastes deliciously crisp and light.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes heated.

“Fine, thank you.” I smile sweetly, giving nothing away, knowing full well he’s referring to the silver balls.

He smirks at me.

“Here, you’re going to need this.” He hands me a large velvet pouch that was resting on the kitchen island. “Open it,” he says between sips of champagne. Intrigued, I reach into the bag and pull out an intricate silver masquerade mask with cobalt blue feathers in a plume crowning the top.

“It’s a masked ball,” he states matter-of-factly.

“I see.” The mask is beautiful. A silver ribbon is threaded around the edges and exquisite silver filigree is etched around the eyes.

“This will show off your beautiful eyes, Anastasia.” I grin at him, shyly.

“Are you wearing one?”

“Of course. They’re very liberating in a way,” he adds, raising an eyebrow, and he smirks.

Oh. This is going to be fun.

“Come. I want to show you something.” Holding out his hand, he leads me out into the hallway and to a door beside the stairs. He opens it, revealing a large room roughly the same size as his playroom, which must be directly above us. This one is filled with books.

Wow, a library, every wall crammed floor to ceiling. In the center is a full-size billiard table illuminated by a long triangular-prism-shaped Tiffany lamp.

“You have a library!” I squeak in awe, overwhelmed with excitement.

“Yes, the balls room as Elliot calls it. The apartment is quite spacious. I realized today, when you mentioned exploring, that I’ve never given you a tour. We don’t have time now, but I thought I’d show you this room, and maybe challenge you to a game of billiards in the not-too-distant future.”

I grin at him.

“Bring it on.” I secretly hug myself with glee. José and I bonded over pool. We’ve been playing for the last three years. I am ace with a cue. José has been a good teacher.

“What?” Christian asks, amused.

Oh! I really must stop expressing every emotion I feel the instant I feel it, I scold myself.“Nothing,” I say quickly.

Christian narrows his eyes.

“Well, maybe Doctor Flynn can uncover your secrets. You’ll meet him this evening.”

“The expensive charlatan?” Holy shit.

“The very same. He’s dying to meet you.”

Christian takes my hand and gently skims his thumb across my knuckles as we sit in the back of the Audi heading north. I squirm, and feel the sensation in my groin. I resist the urge to moan, as Taylor is in the front, not wearing his iPod, with one of the security guys whose name I think is Sawyer.

I am beginning to feel a dull, pleasurable ache deep in my belly, caused by the balls.

Idly, I wonder, how long will I be able to manage without some, um . . . relief? I cross my legs. As I do, something that’s been niggling me in the back of my mind suddenly surfaces.

“Where did you get the lipstick?” I ask Christian quietly.

He smirks at me and points toward the front. “Taylor,” he mouths.

I burst out laughing. “Oh.” And stop quickly—the balls.

I bite my lip. Christian smiles at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly. He knows exactly what he’s doing, sexy beast that he is.

“Relax,” he breathes. “If it’s too much . . .” His voice trails off, and he gently kisses each knuckle in turn, then gently sucks the tip of my little finger.

Now I know he’s doing this on purpose. I close my eyes as dark desire unfolds throughout my body. I surrender briefly to the sensation, my muscles clenching deep inside me.

Oh my.

When I open my eyes again, Christian is regarding me closely, a dark prince. It must be the dinner jacket and bow tie, but he looks older, sophisticated, a devastatingly handsome roué with licentious intent.

He simply takes my breath away. I’m in his sexual thrall, and if I’m to believe him, he’s in mine. The thought brings a smile to my face, and his answering grin is blinding.