Fifty Shades Darker (book 5) novel Chapter 137

She fidgets beside me but takes a sip of the Cristal.

The waiter returns with the oysters on ice. “I think you liked oysters last time you tried them.”

“Only time I’ve tried them.” Her breathing stalls. She’s…eager.

“Oh, Miss Steele—when will you learn?” I tease, taking an oyster from the dish. I lift my hand from my thigh and she leans back in anticipation of my touch, but I reach for some lemon.

“Learn what?” she whispers, as I squeeze lemon juice over the shellfish.

“Eat.” I hold the shell up to her mouth. She parts her lips and I rest the shell on her bottom lip. “Tip your head back slowly.”

With a smoldering look, she does as she’s told and I tip the oyster into her mouth. She closes her eyes in appreciation, and I help myself to one.

“Another?” I ask.

She nods, and this time I add a little mignonette sauce, and still I don’t touch her. She swallows and licks her lips.

“Good?”

She nods.

I eat another, then feed her one more.

“Hmm…” she says, and the sound resonates the length of my cock.

“Still like oysters?” I ask, as she swallows the final one.

She nods again.

“Good.”

I place my hands on my thighs, flexing my fingers, and I’m gratified when she shifts beside me. But as much as I want to, I refrain from touching her. The waiter tops off our champagne and clears our plates. Ana squeezes her thighs together and rubs her hands over them. And I think I hear a frustrated sigh.

Oh, baby. Craving my touch?

The waiter returns with our entrées.

Ana eyes me with suspicious recognition as the food is placed on the table. “A favorite of yours, Mr. Grey?”

“Most definitely, Miss Steele. Though I believe it was cod at The Heathman.”

“I seem to remember we were in a private dining room then, discussing contracts.”

“Happy days. This time I hope to get to fuck you.” I reach for my knife and she fidgets beside me. I take a bite of sea bass.

“Don’t count on it,” she mutters, and I know without looking that she’s pouting.

Oh, playing hard to get, Miss Steele?

“Speaking of contracts,” she continues. “The NDA.”

“Tear it up.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure I’m not going to run to The Seattle Times with an exposé?”

I laugh, knowing how shy she is. “No. I trust you. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Ditto,” she says.

“I’m very glad you’re wearing a dress.”