Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 72

“Mr. Grey, so romantic.” This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

“For you, Mrs. Grey—hearts and flowers. Always.”

She reaches for my hand, and peering up at me through her long, dark lashes, she kisses my wedding

ring.

Oh God. I close my eyes and groan. “Ana.”

She starts to unbutton my shirt. As she unfastens each one, she plants a soft kiss where the button

once was and whispers a word. “You. Make. Me. So. Happy. I. Love. You.”

It’s too much. I want her.

Fuck, do I want her.

I groan and shake my shirt off, then lift her onto the bed and lay her down beneath me. My lips find

hers and I hold her head, keeping her still as we share our first horizontal kiss as husband and wife.

Ana.

My pants are getting too tight. I kneel up between her legs and Ana is panting, her lips swollen from our

kisses, and she’s staring up at me with want.

Fuck.

“You are so beautiful, wife.” I run my hands down each of her legs and grab her left foot. “You have

such lovely legs. I want to kiss every inch of them. Starting here.” I press my lips to her big toe and

graze the pad with my teeth.

“Ah!” Ana makes a garbled sound and closes her eyes. I taste her instep and run my tongue to her

heel, which I nip, then run my tongue to her ankle. I leave a path of soft wet kisses up the inside of her

calf, and Ana squirms.

“Still, Mrs. Grey,” I warn, and for a moment I watch her breasts rising and falling against the constraints

of her corset.

It’s a thing of beauty.

Enough. It needs to go.

I flip her onto her stomach, and continue my journey of kisses up her body: the backs of her legs, her

thighs, her backside. And for a moment I contemplate all that I want to do to her ass.

Ana protests. “Please.”

“I want you naked,” I murmur, and unhook her corset, one hook at a time, at a languid pace. Once it’s

off, I plant a soft, wet kiss at the base of her spine, then trail my tongue up the length of her backbone.

Ana wriggles. “Christian, please.”

I’m leaning over her, my constrained cock resting against her ass, and she wriggles against me. “What

do you want, Mrs. Grey?” I utter the words just beneath her ear.

“You.”

“And I you, my love, my life.” I undo my pants, kneel up beside her, and turn her onto her back.

Standing, I dispense with my pants and underwear while Ana regards me, wide-eyed and wanting. I

grasp her panties and whisk them off so that she’s naked in all her glory beneath me.

“Mine,” I mouth.

“Please,” Ana implores me.

I can’t help my grin. Oh, baby. I love it when you beg.

Crawling onto the bed, I lay a new path of wet kisses up her other leg, getting closer and closer to the

top of her thighs. My objective. The sacred apex. When I reach my goal, I push her legs wider apart.

She’s wet and wanting. Just how I like her. “Ah, wife of mine,” I whisper, and I run my tongue over her,

tasting her and pinpointing her clitoris.

Hmm… Slowly, I begin to torture her with my mouth. Round and round, my tongue teases her oh-so-

sensitive bud. Ana grabs my hair and writhes underneath me, her hips moving in a rhythm I know so

well. She bucks once. But I hold her still and continue my sweet torment.

“Christian,” she calls, and tugs at my hair.

She’s close.

“Not yet.” I move up her body, dipping my tongue in her navel.

“No!” she cries out in frustration, and I grin against her belly.

All in good time, my love.

I kiss her soft stomach. “So impatient, Mrs. Grey. We have until we touch down on the Emerald Isle.”

When I reach her breasts, I worship each with tender kisses, and take a nipple between my lips and

tug. I watch her as I lavish my attention on it; her eyes are dark and her mouth slack. “Husband, I want

you. Please.”

And I want you.

I cover her body with mine, resting my weight on my elbows, and run my nose down hers. Her hands

are on me.

My shoulders.

My back.

My backside.

“Mrs. Grey. Wife. We aim to please.” I brush my lips over hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She’s pushing her hips up for me.

“Eyes open. I want to see you.”

Her eyes are a startling blue.

“Christian. Ah,” she calls out, as I slowly claim her, inch by inch.

“Ana, oh, Ana,” I breathe. Her name is a prayer.

She is heaven. My heaven.

I start to move, relishing the feel of her.

Her fingernails dig into my butt and it drives me on.

And on.

And on.

She’s mine.

She’s really mine.

Finally, she cries out my name and falls apart beneath me, her climax triggering mine, and I come and

come inside my love. My life. My wife.

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