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Title Slide of venarefeane.ga cincizeci de umbre intunecate vol 50 de umbre ale lui grey. Cristina Crs · E. l. james cincizeci de umbre descătuşate. Fifty Shades of Grey. E L James is . not at work. From: Christian Grey .. Christian flips two switches, grasps the . mean? “But nothing's changed.” You're still fifty shades. “Let's talk on the way back. We're under the original title of Vol de. Cincizeci de Umbre Ale Lui Grey Vol 1. James-Cincizeci de umbre descatusate - volpdf. Fifty Shades Freed 3. Cincizeci de umbre intunecate.
Love and marriages are threatened — the secrets of long ago have a very public climax in their world of wealth and privilege. The only people who can stem its advance are the Silver, a vampiric race who offer a simple exchange: protection in return for blood and subservience. And both of them are keeping secrets. Fall in love with this royal friends to lovers romance. That should have been my first sign — I write about guys like him for a living. Writing romance novels comes with its perks, but Ethan Rochester enters my life and rearranges my preconceived notions about writing what inspires you.
When the two are thrown together as part of a challenge, Sam sees the chance to win her back. In addition to the music I uploaded yesterday, I spent some time this morning adding more features—photographs of the glider on my desk and of the two of us at her graduation ceremony and a few apps, too. I shake my head. Have I eaten enough for Sir?
As if on cue, my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket, signaling a message. I glance at my watch. The thought of deferring my desire displeases me.
Ana reminds me that I need to be up for work, too. Besides, this way I have you in the car all to myself—for a few hours, at least.
What can we do but talk? I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Stage three of the campaign has not gone as smoothly as I anticipated. But I can turn this around and close the deal in the car.
Summoning the waiter, I ask for the check, then call Taylor. He answers on the second ring.
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Tell her. Tell her, now, Grey. The waiter returns and I give him my card, but I keep my attention on Ana. My heart rate accelerates. I hope she goes for this…or I really will be lost.
The waiter hands me the credit card slip to sign. I enter an obscene tip and sign my name with a flourish. The waiter seems excessively grateful. My phone buzzes and I scan the text. The waiter gives me my card back and disappears. Her breathing accelerates. Oh, that sound. I glance at her face. Her lips are parted, cheeks pink and eyes wide.
The sight fills me with hope and desire. I stifle my impulses and lead her through the restaurant and outside, where Taylor is waiting at the curb in the Q7. I have an idea. Taylor gets out to open the door for me. Do you have your iPod and headphones?
Use them on the way home. As ever, he surprises me. Taking a deep breath, I climb into the car. He regards me for a second in the mirror and pulls out into the light evening traffic. Anastasia is watching me when I turn to face her. I call him again, then lean over and tap his shoulder. He removes an earbud. Here goes. How to begin? Do you want a regular vanilla relationship, with no kinky fuckery at all? Oh, baby, so do I.
Step one…okay. Keep cool, Grey. She knows me. She has seen the monster. I ignore her first comment and concentrate on her second point. How can I protect myself from that?
And suppose she does something stupid that puts herself at risk? Okay, million-dollar question. She shifts in her seat, and a silent, sweet joy unfurls deep in my gut. Oh, baby, I love it when you squirm. I cross my legs. So we may be able to structure a relationship around this. Deep breath, Grey, give her the terms. Do the vanilla thing and then maybe, once you trust me more— and I trust you to be honest and to communicate with me—we could move on and do some of the things that I like to do.
My heart rate escalates; blood thrums through my body, pounding past my eardrums as I wait for her reaction. My well-being hangs in the balance. And she says…nothing! She stares at me as we pass under a streetlight and I see her clearly. Her eyes still impossibly large in her beautiful, thinner, sadder face. I close my eyes. These last few days have been hell. I see your pain. You are exquisite, honest, warm, strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless.
I am in awe of you. I want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul. Flowery, Grey! Real flowery. Last Saturday was such a shock to my system.
It was my wake-up call. Then, after I left, it dawned on me that the physical pain you inflicted was not as bad as the pain of losing you.
It swings from north to south and back again in a nanosecond. She said it again; the three potent words I cannot bear. And touching. But before I can respond, before the darkness takes hold, she unfastens her seatbelt and crawls across the seat and into my lap, ambushing me. She places her hands on either side of my head, staring into my eyes, and I stop breathing.
Where do I sign? Anxiety turns to joy.
It expands in my chest, lighting me up from head to toe, spreading warmth in its wake. I get her back. She snuggles into my arms, her head on my shoulder, and we listen to the Rachmaninov. I go over her words.
She loves me. I can live with this. I must. I need to protect her and her vulnerable heart. Except the touching. I have to make her understand—manage her expectations. Gently I stroke her back. I wish I understood why. Shall I tell her? Why would she want to know this shit? My shit? Maybe I can hint at it, give her a clue. Not the burn. The smell. Like old and nasty. Like trash. Like drains. He drinks brown licker.
From a bottle. He always shouts. His hand hits me across my face. And again. I fight him. But he laughs. And takes a puff. The end of the cigarette shines bright red and orange. The pain. I howl. He has two teeth gone. I shudder as my memories and nightmares float together like smoke from his discarded cigarette, fogging my brain, dragging me back to a time of fear and impotence.
I tell Ana I remember it all and she tightens her hold on me. Her cheek on my neck. Her soft, warm skin against mine, bringing me back to the now. Your mother?
She was neglectful. When she finally killed herself, it took four days for someone to raise the alarm and find us. I remember that.
Anastasia gasps. My sweet, compassionate Ana. I tighten my hold on her and kiss her hair as she nestles in my arms. Baby, it was a long time ago.
My exhaustion catches up with me. Several sleepless nights plagued with nightmares have taken their toll. I want to stop thinking. I never had nightmares when she was sleeping at my side. Leaning back, I close my eyes, saying nothing, because I have nothing more to say. Like me. I hold her, enjoying her weight on me, honored that she can sleep on me. Now all I have to do is keep her, which will be challenging enough.
My first vanilla relationship—who would have thought? I dare a quick peek at Elena as her scarlet lips curl into a smile and she crosses her arms, flogger in hand.
You may speak. I have a place at Harvard. Her eyes flash. I see. She walks around me as I stand naked in her basement. That, and the smell of her expensive perfume. My body begins to respond. She laughs. And I try, really try, to bring my body to heel. Though perhaps you should be rewarded for good behavior, she purrs. And she hits me again, across my chest this time, but soft, more playful. The flogger flies again, stinging my ass, and my legs quiver in response.
Hold still, she warns. And I stand straight, waiting for the next blow. My eyes spring open and I glance at her in alarm. Eyes down, she commands. And I stare at my feet as panic overwhelms me. She grabs my face, her nails biting into my skin. You will. Her ice-blue eyes burn into mine, scarlet lips twisted in a snarl.
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She laughs and pushes me away and raises her hand. But the blow never comes. When I open my eyes, Ana stands before me. She caresses my cheek and smiles. I love you, she says. And for a moment I feel giddy. A stupid grin splits my face and I shake my head. Have I ever felt like this? There are so many possibilities. I kiss her hair and rest my chin on her head. I gaze down at my sleeping beauty. Her lips are gently parted, her dark lashes fanned out, shadowing her face.
And I remember watching her sleep at The Heathman, that first time. She looked so peaceful then; she looks peaceful now. Her eyelashes flutter and she opens her eyes. I want to laugh out loud. She squirms in my lap. I still her with my hands. Tell me what she needs. I want her to be confident enough to express her desires.
All of them. I lift her off my lap when Taylor pulls up at the curb beside her apartment. I climb out of the car, walk to her door, and open it for her. She looks sleepy and adorable as she struggles out of the car. Will she accept my gift? This is the final stage of my campaign to win her back.
Opening the trunk, I grab the gift box that contains her Mac, her phone, and an iPad. She looks from the box to me with suspicion. We both need to sleep.
I must chase Welch for his report on Hyde. Leaning down, I cup her chin in my fingers. I want to kiss her hard, but I hold back and trace soft kisses from her temple to her mouth. She moans and the sweet sound travels straight to my cock. Oh, baby. Not now.
My body ignores my noble gesture and stiffens in anticipation. I shake my head, amazed as ever by my lust for Ana. Go to bed, Ana, I will her. As if she hears me, she closes the door, and Taylor starts the car to head home to Escala. I lean back in my seat. What a difference a day makes. I grin. I imagine her in her apartment, opening the box. Will she be pissed? Or will she be delighted? She never took kindly to gifts. Was it a step too far? Once inside, I check my phone to see if she has anything to say about the gifts.
I love the iPad. I love the songs. I love the British Library app. I love you. Good night. Ana xx I grin at the screen. Happy tears, great! She loves it. No one can love a monster, no matter how compassionate they are. Quickly, I type a response to her e-mail. I bought one for myself. Now, if I were there, I would kiss away your tears. I want her well rested for tomorrow. From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Mr. I know something that could ease that. Ana xx P. Flynn know?
And there it is.
The Anastasia Steele wit. I have missed it. I sit down on the edge of the bed and compose my reply. Usually consensually and in a sexual context…but I am more than happy to make an exception. Flynn also enjoys my sense of humor. Incidentally—you will beg, trust me. And I look forward to it.
I watch my phone, waiting for her reply. And, sure enough, her response appears. From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Good Night, Sweet Dreams Date: June 10 To: Christian Grey Well, since you ask so nicely, and I like your delicious threat, I shall curl up with the iPad that you have so kindly given me and fall asleep browsing in the British Library, listening to the music that says it for you. A xxx She likes my threat? Then I remember her squirming in the car while we talked of spanking.
I get up and wander into my closet to take off my jacket while I think of something to say. She wants a softer approach; surely I can think of something. And then it comes to me. Dream of me. I want to be the only one in her head. Not that photographer. Not her boss. Just me. I change quickly into PJ bottoms and brush my teeth. She must be asleep. Anastasia has been so diverting, beautiful, funny… me for the first time since she left me.
My first thought is of Ana. How is she this morning? Has she changed her mind? I wonder what her morning routine is? And I get to see her this evening. I bound out of bed and into my sweats. My run will take me on my usual route to check on her building. Too sappy, Grey. Keep running. Whatever we do, it will be up to Ana.
I run up Wall Street, back home to begin my day. Even to my own ears I sound unusually hearty. Her chin drops, but she says nothing. Ah, speechless Mrs. This is novel. I missed you last night. In the car, on the way to the office, I get a response.
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I have not had breakfast for several days, so it is a step forward. Now leave me alone—I am trying to work. WordPress Shortcode.
Simona Sasu Follow. Full Name Comment goes here. Are you sure you want to Yes No. Samira Ban.
Show More. No Downloads. Views Total views. Actions Shares. Embeds 0 No embeds.I turn my body toward her, itching to touch her. My dad recommended we visit. James Volumul I din trilogia Fifty Shades.
He leans in as if to kiss me. I preferred more solitary pursuits like sculling and full-contact sports like kickboxing, where I could kick the shit out of someone…or have the shit kicked out of me.
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