Fifty Shades of Grey Unrated. Fifty Shades Darker. In the second chapter of the "Fifty Shades" trilogy, innocent Anastasia continues her passionate love affair with the enigmatic billionaire Christian Grey. Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan reprise their roles as Anastasia and Christian in this sexy sequel to the blockbuster phenomenon, "Fifty Shades of Grey. Fifty Shades Freed. Believing they have left behind shadowy figures from their past, newlyweds Christian and Ana fully embrace an inextricable connection and shared life of luxury.
But just as she steps into her role as Mrs. His gaze is anxious. The cuff marks? If there are marks, they are hidden by the sandal straps.
Gently, he strokes his thumb up my right instep, making me wriggle. He glances at me and his expression is sad, his mouth a thin line. What did you expect? He glances at me and shrugs. Reticent one minute and forthcoming the next? How can I keep up with him? Oh, no. I unbuckle my seatbelt and scoot closer to him, leaving my feet in his lap.
I want to crawl into his lap and hold him, and I would, if it were just Taylor in the front. But knowing Gaston is there cramps my style despite the glass. If only it were darker. I clutch his hands. Well, more than enjoyed. It was mind-blowing. You can do that to me again anytime. I flex my toes into his hardening crotch and see rather than hear his sharp intake of breath, his lips parting. He inhales and his eyes darken, and he clasps my ankle in warning. Does he want me stop? He pauses, scowls then fishes his ever-present BlackBerry out of his pocket to take an incoming call while glancing at his watch.
His frown deepens. Work interrupting us again. I try to remove my feet, but he tightens his fingers around my ankle. I take my feet off his lap and this time he lets me. I sit back in my seat, buckle my seat belt, and fiddle nervously with the fifteen-thousand-euro bracelet. Christian presses the button in his door armrest again and the privacy glass slides down. Not the fire department or the police. Not yet anyway. A fire? I gape at him, my mind racing.
I want a detailed damage report. And a complete rundown of everyone who had access over the last five days, including the cleaning staff.
Get hold of Andrea and get her to call me. Yeah, sounds like the argon is just as effective, worth its weight in gold. It rings a distant bell from chemistry class—an element, I think. E-mail me in two hours. No, I need to know. Thank you for calling me. Twenty-four-seven at the off-site data store. The car surges forward. Christian glances at me, his expression unreadable. Christian shakes his head. My team is on it. My hand clutches my throat in fear. Charlie Tango and now this? What next?
Christian has been holed up in the onboard study for over an hour. After changing into shorts and a T-shirt, I remove the ludicrously expensive bangle and go to find Taylor. I want to roll my eyes at him, but I narrow them instead, sighing heavily and expressing, I think, the right amount of frustrated indignation that I am not mistress of my own destiny.
Striding confidently past him, I knock on the study door and enter. Christian is on his BlackBerry, leaning against the mahogany desk. He glances up. His gaze is politely expectant. This man had me in handcuffs yesterday.
I square my shoulders and give him a broad smile. I stand staring at him, wondering if I can help. He wants me gone. He smiles his sweet shy smile. Strolling purposefully forward, I plant a kiss on his lips, surprising him. He puts the BlackBerry down on the desk behind him, pulls me into his embrace, and kisses me passionately. I am breathless when he releases me. I need to sort this, so I can get back to my honeymoon.
I love your distractions. My subconscious shakes her head and purses her lips. I ignore her. Taylor is patiently waiting. Grey, after you. We are in the motor launch, bobbing and weaving on the calm waters of the harbor beside the Fair Lady. Jeez—three people with me, just because I want to go shopping. Zipping up my life jacket, I give Taylor a beaming grin.
He holds out his hand to assist me as I climb onto the Jet Ski. When he gives me the okay sign, I press the ignition button and the engine roars into life. Grey, easy does it! I squeeze the accelerator. The Jet Ski lurches forward then stalls. How does Christian make it look so easy? I try again, and once again, I stall. Double crap! I try once more, very gently squeezing the lever, and the Jet Ski lurches forward—but this time it keeps going.
It goes some more. Ha ha! It still keeps going! I want to shout and squeal in excitement, but I resist. I cruise gently away from the yacht into the main harbor. Behind me, I hear the throaty roar of the motor launch. When I squeeze the gas further, the Jet Ski leaps forward, skating across the water. With the warm breeze in my hair and a fine sea spray on either side of me, I feel free.
This rocks! No wonder Christian never lets me drive. Rather than head for the shore and curtail the fun, I veer around to do a circuit of the stately Fair Lady. Wow—this is so much fun. I ignore Taylor and the crew behind me and speed around the yacht for a second time. As I complete the circuit, I spot Christian on deck. Bravely, I lift one hand from the handlebars and wave enthusiastically at him. At the dock, I wait and let Taylor pull up ahead of me.
His expression is bleak, and my heart sinks, though Gaston looks vaguely amused. I wonder briefly if something has happened to chill Gallic- American relations, but deep down I suspect the problem is probably me. Gaston leaps out of the motorboat and ties it to the moorings while Taylor directs me to come alongside. Very gently I ease the Jet Ski into position beside the boat and line up beside him. His expression softens a little. Grey is not entirely comfortable with you riding on the Jet Ski.
Oh, my poor, pathologically overprotective husband, what am I going to do with you? I smile serenely at Taylor. Well, Taylor, Mr. As I climb out of the boat, I catch a glimpse of his reluctant smile, and it makes me want to smile, too. As I stand on the dock waiting for Taylor to climb up, I feel my BlackBerry vibrate in my purse and fish it out. He sighs. Just be careful. Permission to have fun! Anything you want from town? I hear his smile in his voice.
Jet Ski crisis averted, I think. The car is waiting, and Taylor holds the door open for me. I wink at him as I climb in, and he shakes his head in amusement. In the car, I fire up the e-mail on my BlackBerry.
Come back in one piece. This is not a request. His response makes me smile. My control freak. Why did I want to come shopping? I hate shopping. But deep down I know why, and I walk determinedly past Chanel, Gucci, Dior, and the other designer boutiques and eventually find the antidote to what ails me in a small, overstocked, touristy store.
It tinkles sweetly and it costs five euros. This is me—this is what I like. Immediately I feel more comfortable. Will I ever get used to it? Taylor and Gaston follow me dutifully through the late afternoon crowds, and I soon forget they are there. But what do I buy for the man who has everything? I pause in a small modern square surrounded by stores and gaze at each one in turn. When I spy an electronics store, our visit to the gallery earlier today and our visit to the Louvre come back to me.
We were looking at the Venus de Milo at the time. We love to look whether in marble or oils or satin or film. Where are you? You okay? You in some fancy hotel? Shit, I should not have called him. I tell him my plan. Two hours later, Taylor helps me out of the motor launch onto the steps up to the deck. Gaston is helping the deckhand with the Jet Ski.
Christian is nowhere to be seen, and I scurry down to our cabin to wrap his present, feeling a childish sense of delight. I turn to find him standing in the doorway to the cabin, watching me intently.
Am I still in trouble over the Jet Ski? Or is it the fire at his office? He steps over to me and fondles the tiny bells so that they jingle sweetly around my ankle. He frowns again and runs his fingers lightly along the mark, sending tingles up my leg. I nod shyly. He takes the box and shakes it gently. He grins his boyish, dazzling smile and sits down beside me on the bed.
Leaning over, he grasps my chin and kisses me. You have everything. Oh, you so do, Christian. He makes short work of the wrapping paper. It comes with two lenses. And I remember what you said in the Louvre. And of course, there were those other photographs.
He stops breathing, his eyes widening as realization dawns, and I continue hurriedly before I lose my nerve. Of you? I nod, desperately trying to gauge his reaction.
Finally he gazes back down at the box, his fingers tracing over the illustration of the camera on the front with fascinated reverence. What is he thinking? Christian never reacts the way I expect.
He looks back up, his eyes filled with what, pain? No, no, no! Christian swallows and runs a hand through his hair, and he looks so lost, so confused. He takes a deep breath. He scrunches up his eyes. When he opens his eyes again, they are wide and wary, full of some raw emotion.
Is it me? My questions earlier about his birth mom? The fire at his office? I thought he was happy. I thought we were happy. I thought I made him happy. My mind starts racing. Is that it? And in a possibly unique moment of extraordinary depth and clarity, it comes to me—the fire, Charlie Tango, the Jet Ski. The thought chills me.
He shrugs and once more his eyes move down to my wrist where the bangle he bought me this afternoon used to be. Shit—yesterday was fun. I enjoyed it. I stumble on. Talk to me, Christian—please.
Holy fucking crap! I reach over, take the box from his lap, and open it. Knowing that the camera is prepped by the overly helpful salesman in the store, and ready to go, I fish it out of the box and remove the lens cap. I point the camera at him so his beautiful anxious face fills the frame. On the final still his lips twitch almost imperceptibly. I press again, and this time he smiles.
Oh, thank heavens. Then his eyes darken, and his expression changes to predatory. And you do, frequently. I lower the camera and stare at him. Tell me! He says nothing. I lift the camera to my eye again. In one swift, smooth move, he sweeps the camera box onto the cabin floor, grabs me and pushes me down onto the bed.
He sits astride me. He grabs the camera by the lens, and the photographer becomes the subject as he points the Nikon at me and presses the shutter down. Don't Breathe. Don't Think Twice. Drag Me to Hell. Dumb and Dumber. Eloise End of Watch. Everest Everybody Wants Some!! Everything, Everything Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Fast and Furious. Fast and Furious 3 Tokyo Drift. Fast and Furious 4. Faster Fifty Shades Darker. Fifty Shades of Black. Fifty Shades of Grey.
Fight Club. Fist Fight. Flicka 2. Footloose Freaks trailer. Get Out. Book 4. Tara Sue Me became a worldwide phenomenon with The Submissive. Now she presents a scorching new tale about a risky passion too hot to ignore.
As their sizzling connection heats up, Daniel is ready to take Julie fully under his command. But when the dangerous side of their play rears its ugly head, Julie will have to decide if she trusts him enough to surrender completely—or if she should escape before she gets burned The Dominant.
As the playboy CEO of West Industries, he governs the boardroom during the day; as a strict dominant with exacting rules, he commands the bedroom at night. As long as she follows his orders and surrenders herself fully to him, no one will get hurt. But when Nathaniel begins falling for Abby on a deeper level, he realizes that the trust must go both ways—and he has secrets which could bring the foundations of their entire relationship crashing down Dangerously Broken.
After all, Summer has been like a little sister to him for years—until Jamie sees her at the most infamous kink club in New Orleans. Similar ebooks. E L James revisits the world of Fifty Shades with a deeper and darker take on the love story that has enthralled millions of readers around the globe. Christian Grey exercises control in all things; his world is neat, disciplined, and utterly empty—until the day that Anastasia Steele falls into his office, in a tangle of shapely limbs and tumbling brown hair.
He tries to forget her, but instead is swept up in a storm of emotion he cannot comprehend and cannot resist. Will being with Ana dispel the horrors of his childhood that haunt Christian every night? Or will his dark sexual desires, his compulsion to control, and the self-loathing that fills his soul drive this girl away and destroy the fragile hope she offers him? Desolation Road. Report Close Quick Download Go to remote file. Documents can only be sent to your Kindle devices from e-mail accounts that you added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List.