I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love.
Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and the three wishes from Aladdin's lamp all rolled into one
It's much easier to wear your pain on the outside...
Anatasia You Are My More My Love, My Life Christian
I glance down his body. He's still wearing his shorts and his shirt, and I still have my T-shirt on. Jeez-- talk about wham, bam, thank you ma'am.
Are you still mad at me?" "Yes." "I'll go back to sleep, then." "Good.
You smell heavenly. I slept on your side of your side of the bed because your pillow smells of you.
The platinum Omega watch he gave me at breakfast on our first morning in London obscures the red line. The inscription still makes me swoon. Anastasia You are My More My Love, My Life Christian
So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.” “It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you. I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy, even in your submission. The more you submit, the ...
It's taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car, just to show you that you're mine, and if I want to buy you a fucking car, I'll buy you a fucking car" Christian Grey
He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. “This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” He eases his f...
Ana, honey, you've always had a tendency to overanalyse everything. Go with your gut.
I'd like to bite that lip.
You are one brave woman," he whispers, "I am in awe of you.
Goodbye, Christian," I murmur. "Ana, goodbye," he says softly, and he looks utterly, utterly broken,a man in agonizing pain, reflecting how I feel inside. I tear my gaze away from him before I can change my mind and try to comfort him. The elevator d...
You've brushed your teeth," He says, staring at me. "I used your toothbrush." His lips quirk up in a half smile. "Oh Anastasia Steele, what am I going to do with you?
Coveralls," I reply, and I know I'm no longer screening what's coming out of my mouth. He raises a eyebrow, amused yet again. "You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing." I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans. "I could always take them off." ...
We didn’t-?” I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can’t complete the question. I stare at my hands. “Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive,” he says dryly.
You're not celibate, then?" I breathe. Amusement lights up his eyes. "No, Anastasia, I'm not celibate.
I've never wanted more, until I met you." I gasp, reeling. Oh my. Isn't this what I want? He wants more. He wants it, too! My inner goddess has back-flipped off the podium and is doing a cartwheels around the stadium. It's not just me.
And so a pattern develops: wake, work cry. sleep. I can't even escape him in my dreams. Gray burning eyes, his lost look, his hair burnished and bright and bright all haunt me. And the music... so much music-I cannot bear to hear any music. I am care...
