Get a library card (it's free!) Download the Overdrive media app (also free). Can anybody send me a PDF copy of Fifty Shades Darker as told by Christian or. 'Fifty Shades Darker: Book Two of the Fifty Shades Trilogy' by E L James Daunted by the singular tastes and dark secrets of the beautiful, tormented young . the courage to put pen to paper with her first novel,. Fifty Shades of Grey. E L James is currently working on the sequel to Fifty. Shades Darker and a new.
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You can get 50 shades darker fb2 also at raudone.info "Fifty shades darker" by E.L James pdf, epub, fb2 Free raudone.info Free Fifty Shades Darker PDF Download - Download as Text File .txt), PDF File .pdf) or read online. hi. BOOKS BY E L JAMES Fifty Shades of Grey Fifty Shades Darker Fifty .. When my hair is free of pins, he runs his fingers through it, gently massaging my scalp.
Luckily Reverend Walsh has discreetly stepped back. I glance at the throng gathered in their wedding finery. Who knew that even Elliot could scrub up so well?
All wear huge, beaming smiles—except Grace, who weeps graciously into a dainty white handkerchief. I melt. He looks divine in a simple black tux with silver waistcoat and tie. Carrick and Grace have gone to town. They have the marquee set up again and beautifully decorated in pale pink, silver, and ivory with its sides open, facing the bay.
We have been blessed with fine weather, and the late afternoon sun shines over the water. Ray and my mother are dancing and laughing with each other. I feel bittersweet watching them together. I hope Christian and I last longer.
Marry in haste, repent at leisure. The saying haunts me. Kate is beside me, looking so beautiful in her long silk gown. She glances at me and frowns. Are you watching your mom and Ray? I love him so much. I giggle. Trust Kate to point out the obvious. She pulls me into a Katherine Kavanagh Special Hug. You look stunning, Anastasia.
I love that the lace is just off the shoulder—demure, yet alluring, I hope. He bends and kisses me. Such lovebirds. And I think you can call me Grandma. Now, you two seriously need to get working on my great-grandkids. Christian blinks at her in horror. He glances back at me, practically pouting, and rolls his eyes.
I think I monopolized too much of your time on the dance floor as it is. If you need me. Good luck with everything. He frowns, not understanding, and tugs gently on my hand, halting me. His eyes light up. I flush and let go of his hand. You look beautiful. And I want to be the one to undress you. I frown. Taylor has your main suitcase. Neither Mia nor Kate has managed to inveigle the information out of him.
I turn to where my mother and Kate are hovering nearby. Her brow furrows briefly. Kate tries to disguise her snort as a cough. I narrow my eyes at her. Neither she nor my mother have any idea of the fight Christian and I had about that. Jeez, can my Fifty Shades sulk. The memory is sobering. Kate rolls her eyes and tactfully moves away to leave us alone.
Oh, Mom! Beginning a new life. Christian is from a different universe, if only she knew. He looks so dapper in his black tux and pale pink waistcoat. Tears prick the back of my eyes.
Oh no. You make one hell of a bride, Annie. When he releases me, Christian is back at my side. Ray shakes his hand warmly. The rest of the wedding guests have formed a long human arch for us to travel through, leading round to the front of the house.
Waiting with smiles and hugs at the end of the arch are Grace and Carrick. In turn they hug and kiss us both.
Grace is emotional again as we bid them hasty good-byes. As Christian holds the car door open for me, I turn and toss my bouquet of white and pink roses into the crowd of young women that has gathered.
Mia triumphantly holds it aloft, grinning from ear to ear. Taylor holds the car door open for him. As Taylor pulls away, our wedding guests shower the vehicle with rice. Christian grasps my hand and kisses my knuckles. Where are we going? Taylor does not head for the departure terminal as I expect but through a security gate and directly on to the tarmac.
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. They have a brief discussion, then Christian opens my door—and rather than stepping back to give me room to climb out, he leans in and lifts me.
He carries me effortlessly up the steps, and Taylor follows with my small suitcase. He leaves it on the threshold of the plane before returning to the Audi. Beside Stephan stands a dark-haired woman in her what? Early thirties? Anastasia, you know Stephan. I want to roll my eyes. Another female completely captivated by my too-handsome-for-his-owngood husband. I smile kindly at her. After all—he is mine. The interior is all pale maple wood and pale cream leather.
Another young woman in uniform stands at the other end of the cabin—a very pretty brunette. Weather is good from here to Boston. Taking my hand, he leads me to one of the sumptuous leather seats. There must be about twelve of them in total. We sit in two single seats facing each other with a small, highly polished table between us. The champagne is delicious.
Your graduation. He looks like a small boy. His grin broadens and he shakes his head. I gasp. Holy cow. I can hardly believe it. My lifetime ambition has been to visit England. Oh my. As the plane taxis out on to the runway, we sip our champagne, grinning inanely at each other. And what a feast it is—smoked salmon, followed by roast partridge with a green bean salad and dauphinoise potatoes, all cooked and served by the ever-efficient Natalia.
He shakes his head and runs his finger across his bottom lip as he looks questioningly at me, his expression dark and unreadable. His lips curl up in a small, secret smile and Natalia retreats.
He leads me to the back of the cabin. The cabin is cream and maple wood and the small double bed is covered in gold and taupe cushions.
It looks very comfortable. Christian turns and pulls me into his arms, gazing down at me. I gape at him, my heart pounding.
He takes my breath away. How can he infuse so much promise into those two words? Willingly I comply and his hands move to my hair. Gently he pulls out each hairpin one at a time, his expert fingers making short work of the task. My hair falls in swathes over my shoulders, one lock at a time, covering my back and down to my breasts.
After our long, tiring but exciting day, I want him—all of him. When my hair is free of pins, he runs his fingers through it, gently massaging my scalp. I close my eyes and savor the sensation. His fingers travel on down, and he tugs, tilting my head back to expose my throat.
I groan. I shiver in anticipation. He plants a tender kiss on my back above the first button on my dress. I close my eyes and tilt my head, giving him easier access to my neck, and I fall further under the spell that is Christian Grey, my husband. He peels my dress down my arms so that it pools at my feet in a cloud of ivory silk and lace.
I do so and he gasps. He just gazes at me, his eyes wide with want. You look sensational. My breath shallows, and he repeats the journey over my breasts once more, his tantalizing finger sending tingles down my spine.
He stops and twirls his index finger in the air, indicating that he wants me to turn around. His arm encircles my waist, pulling me against him, and he nuzzles my neck. Gently he cups my breasts, toying with them, while his thumbs circle over my nipples so that they strain against the fabric of my corset. Leaving my breasts bereft he runs his hands down my stomach, over my belly, and down to my thighs, his thumbs skimming my sex.
I stifle a moan. His fingers skate down each garter, and with his usual dexterity, he simultaneously unhooks each one from my stockings. His hands travel around to my behind. Leaning down, he pulls back the cover on the bed. He grasps the top of my left stocking and slowly peels it off, running his thumbs down my leg. He repeats the process with my other stocking. I will always be yours, husband of mine. He pauses, gazing at me, eyes wide, eyes wanting.
I want to undress my husband, my Fifty. He sits back on his heels, and leaning forward I grasp his tie—his sliver-gray tie, my favorite tie—and slowly undo it and pull it free. Then he kisses his fist and shoves them into his pants pocket.
Fifty Shades Darker
Grey, so romantic. Grey—hearts and flowers. He groans and closes his eyes. His lips find mine, his hands curling around my head, holding me, stilling me as our tongues glory in each other.
Abruptly Christian kneels up, leaving me breathless and wanting more. I want to kiss every inch of them. Starting here. Everything south of my waistline convulses. His tongue glides up my instep and his teeth skim my heel and up to my ankle. He trails kisses up the inside of my calf; soft wet kisses. I wriggle beneath him. I can feel him hard against my behind.
The small cabin is eclipsed by his dazzling beauty and his want and need of me. He leans down and peels off my panties then gazes down at me. He pushes my legs wider apart. I close my eyes and surrender to his oh-so-adroit tongue.
My hands fist in his hair as my hips swing and sway, slave to his rhythm, then buck off the small bed. He grabs my hips to still me. I sense his smile against my belly as his journey continues north. We have until we touch down on the Emerald Isle.
Gazing up at me, his eyes are dark like a tropical storm as he teases me. He runs his nose down mine, and I run my hands down his strong, supple back to his fine, fine backside. We aim to please. I want to see you. What have I done? I am suddenly very awake, my erotic dream forgotten.
I must have turned over in my sleep. His eyes blaze with fury.
Fifty Shades Darker
He reaches down, scoops up my bikini top from his sun lounger and tosses it at me. Why do I keep forgetting about them?
I grasp my breasts in panic, hiding them. Do you want to be all over the cover of Star magazine? Naked this time? The paparazzi! As I hurriedly scramble into my top, all thumbs, the color drains from my face.
I shudder. The unpleasant memory of being besieged by the paparazzi outside SIP after our engagement was leaked comes unwelcome to mind—all part of the Christian Grey package. He pulls on his shorts, even though his trunks are dripping wet, then his gray T-shirt. The waitress is back in a moment with his credit card and the check.
Reluctantly, I wriggle into my turquoise sundress and step into my flip-flops. Once the waitress has left, Christian snatches up his book and BlackBerry and masks his fury behind mirrored aviator glasses.
My heart sinks. In fact I look odd with my top on. I sigh inwardly, my spirits sinking. I thought Christian would see the funny side. Weirdly, they are identical twins. They have been patiently watching us and everyone else on the beach from the verandah. Taylor is stony-faced behind his dark glasses.
Taylor and his team shadow us. I have no idea of the time. I think it must be about five or six in the afternoon. When we reach the marina, Christian leads me onto the dock where the motorboat and Jet Ski belonging to the Fair Lady are moored.
I glance nervously up at him, but like Christian, his expression gives nothing away. Why am I the only one who has to wear a life jacket? Christian and Taylor exchange some kind of look. Jeez, is he angry with Taylor, too?
Christian then checks the straps on my life jacket, cinching the middle one tightly. He climbs gracefully on to the Jet Ski and holds out his hand for me to join him. Grasping it tightly, I manage to throw my leg over the seat behind him without falling into the water while Taylor and the twins clamber into the motorboat. Christian kicks the Jet Ski away from the dock, and it floats gently into the marina.
This is my favorite part of traveling by Jet Ski. I hug him closely, my nose nuzzling into his back, marveling that there was a time when he would not have tolerated me touching him this way. He smells good. Forgive me, Christian, please? He stiffens. I kiss his back and rest my cheek against him, looking back toward the dock where a few holidaymakers have gathered to watch the show.
Christian turns the key and the motor roars to life. With one twist of the accelerator, the Jet Ski bucks forward and speeds across the cool dark water, through the marina and out to the center of the harbor toward the Fair Lady.
I hold him tighter. Christian glances at him then accelerates again, and we shoot forward, whipping over the top of the water like an expertly tossed pebble. Taylor shakes his head in resigned exasperation and heads straight to the yacht, while Christian shoots past the Fair Lady and heads out toward the open water.
The sea spray is splashing us, the warm wind buffeting my face and flaying my ponytail crazily around me. This is so much fun. He steers in a huge semicircle and I study the shoreline—the boats in the marina, the mosaic of yellow, white and sand-colored offices and apartments, and the craggy mountains behind. It looks so disorganized—not the regimented blocks that I am used to—but so picturesque.
I nod enthusiastically. His answering grin is dazzling, and he opens the throttle and speeds around the Fair Lady and on out to sea once more. I anxiously try to assess his mood. We are on deck aboard the yacht, and one of the stewards is standing quietly nearby, waiting for my life vest. Christian passes it to him. I love his French accent. Christian glances at me, takes off his shades, and slips them into the collar of his T-shirt, letting them hang.
Oh, what is he thinking? He leans forward and kisses my forehead. You should know that by now. What was I thinking? I mentally castigate myself. The steward appears with our drinks and snacks and places them on the teak table. Christian takes a seat beside me and passes me a gin and tonic. I deploy my patented distraction technique. Sir Somebody-or-Other. His great-grandfather started a grocery store. I blink rapidly. All mine? I gaze out at the sea, tuning out his conversation with Ros—I think—his number two.
I am rich. I have done nothing to earn this money. I shudder as my mind drifts back to our conversation about prenups. It was the Sunday after his birthday, and we were seated at the kitchen table enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Elliot, Kate, Grace, and I were debating the merits of bacon versus sausage, while Carrick and Christian read the Sunday paper. Then her mouth purses as some obviously unpleasant thought crosses her mind. Christian frowns.
Mia reads the column out loud. But who is the lucky, lucky lady? The Nooz is on the hunt. Silence descends, and the atmosphere in the Grey kitchen plunges to below zero. Oh no! A prenup? The thought has never crossed my mind. I swallow, feeling all the blood drain from my face.
Please ground, swallow me up now! Christian shifts uncomfortably in his chair as I glance apprehensively at him. They look alternately at me then him.
Grey want. Christian looks up and glares at me. I blanch once more. She glares at Carrick and Mia. Everyone erupts into animated conversation, and Mia and Kate leap up to clear the table.
I hope Mr. Christian reaches over and grasps both my hands gently in one of his.
That stuff was all aimed at me. I wish my mom had kept her mouth shut. You left me once before. I know how that feels. He snorts and shakes his head with mock disgust. Losing Christian. Stop now. This subject is closed, Ana. No prenup. Not now—not ever. Then he turns to Grace. I shudder as I recall the crazy shopping fest Christian demanded I go on with Caroline Acton—the personal shopper from Niemans—in preparation for this honeymoon.
My bikini alone cost five hundred and forty dollars. Oh, Fifty, maybe with time. I push the small dish of salted almonds and cashews toward him. He smirks. He licks his lips. Oh my, the look he gives me could be solely responsible for global warming.
I pick up my gin and drain the glass, not taking my eyes off him. His mouth drops open, and I glimpse the tip of his tongue between his teeth.
He smiles lewdly at me. In one fluid move, he stands and bends over me, resting his hands on the arms of my chair. How rude. How can I resist? What has he got planned? My heart starts pounding in anticipation.
The cabin has been cleaned since this morning and the bed made. Christian releases my hand, pulls his T-shirt over his head, and tosses it onto a chair. He steps out of his flip-flops and removes his shorts and trunks in one graceful move. Will I ever tire of looking at him naked? He is utterly gorgeous and all mine.
I am one lucky, lucky girl. He grasps my chin, pulling slightly so that I stop biting my lip and runs his thumb along my lower lip. He produces two pairs of metal handcuffs and an airline eye mask from the bottom drawer. I glance quickly and nervously at the bed.
Where the hell is he going to attach those? He turns and gazes steadily at me, his eyes dark and luminous. They can bite into the skin if you pull too hard. My mouth goes dry. Vaguely, I hope I never have to wear a pair of these for real. Christian is watching me intently. He holds out his palm, revealing a small metallic key. In fact, all sets.
He strokes my cheek with his index finger, trailing it down to my mouth. He leans in as if to kiss me. He smiles. My heart starts pounding. How can he do this with just words? It will be intense. Very intense, because I am not going to let you move. This sounds so hot. My breathing is too loud. Fuck, I am panting already. My inner goddess has her sequins on and is warming up to dance the rumba.
My eyes flick down to his arousal. Lift up your arms. He holds out his hand, and I give him back the handcuffs. He places both sets on the bedside table along with the blindfold and yanks the quilt off the bed, letting it fall to the floor. He gathers it into one hand and yanks gently so I step back against him. Against his chest. Against his erection. I gasp as he pulls my head to one side and kisses my neck. What are we going to do about that? His soft languid kisses are driving me wild.
He grins against my neck. You are ever the optimist. Taking my hair, he carefully parts it into three strands, braids it slowly, and then fastens my hair tie to the end. He tugs my braid gently and leans down to my ear. Moving suddenly, he grabs me by the waist, sits down on the bed, and yanks me across his knee so that I feel his erection pressed against my belly.
He smacks my backside once, hard. Without taking his eyes off me, he gets up from the bed and gathers both sets of handcuffs. He grasps my left leg and snaps one cuff around my ankle. Lifting my right leg, he repeats the process so I have a pair of handcuffs attached to each ankle. He reaches down, lifts my chin, and plants a soft wet kiss on my lips before slipping the blindfold over my eyes. I can see nothing, all I can hear is my rapid breathing and the sound of the water lapping against the sides of the yacht as she bobs gently on the sea.
I am so aroused. My left hand is tied to my left ankle, my right hand to the right leg. I cannot straighten my legs. Holy fuck. And all the air leaves my body. He grasps both of my heels and tips me back so that I fall backward on to the bed. I have no choice but to keep my legs bent. The cuffs tighten as I pull against them. This feels weird—being trussed up and helpless—on a boat. He pulls my ankles apart, and I groan. I have no download to move my hips.
My feet are suspended. I cannot move. Holy shit. He pulls the strings on each side, and the scraps of material fall away. I am now naked and at his mercy. He kisses my belly, nipping my navel with his teeth. This is going to be tough. I had no idea. He traces soft kisses and little bites up to my breasts. I moan, pulling on my restraints. The metal bites into my skin. Biting, sucking, rolling my nipples between his fingers and thumbs, driving me wild.
His erection pushes against me. I pull helplessly on the cuffs, swamped by the sensation. He kisses me. He tastes of cool gin and Christian Grey, and he smells of the sea.
He grasps my chin, holding my head in place.
He withdraws. Christian, please! I scream, tilting my head back, pulling on the restraints as he hits my sweet spot, and I am all sensation, everywhere—a sweet, sweet agony, and I cannot move.
He stills then circles his hips, and the motion radiates deep inside me. I cry out in an incoherent wail. Because I love you! Please, Christian. Tears spring to my eyes. This is too intense. I want. I am wrung ragged, tears streaming down my face—my body left pulsing and shaking. He clutches my head with one hand and my back with another, and he comes violently inside me while my insides continue to tremble with aftershocks. Christian tears off the blindfold and kisses me.
He kisses my eyes, my nose, my cheeks. He kisses away the tears, clutching my face in between his hands. Very gently, he lays me back on the bed and eases out of me. I mouth some wordless protest.
A chilling wail wakes him. The noise was me. Get up! There you are. I have my ngers in my ears. Mommy makes a sobbing noise. Please stop. You ar e one fucked-up bitch. He takes a deep steadying breath. The apartment is empty. It has been a we lcome distraction. Jack Hyde. I suspect he has been overgenerous in his payment. I walk toward the bus stop with m y head down.
I shrug on my jacket and head for the door. Of course. I miss Kate. Out in the early evening air of Seattle. I manage to curl my lips upward in a semblance of a smile. I shut the door on that thought immediately.
The time has own by in a haze of new faces. I can afford a car—a nice. I take a deep breath. I turn on the at-.
The box is huge and surprisingly light. It has pride of place on my desk. And the music.
Congratulations on your rst day at work. Christian I stare at the typed card. I sign for the package and take it upstairs. I listlessly make my way downstairs and nd a young man noisily chewing gum. I am ca reful to avoid it at all costs.
And thank you for t he glider. I examine the roses— they are beautiful. No doubt. Who could that be? I press the intercom. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed. I sit and stare blankly at the brick wall. That was very thoughtful. I want none of it. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder. How long must I endure this? The door buzz er startles me from my anguish. I have become my own island state. A rava ged. I have spoken to no one. I feel nothing but the pain. Christian probably had very little to do with it.
I make my way into the kitchen to hunt dow n a vase. I hope it went well. Gray burning eyes. I am numb. An e-mail from Christian. Oh no. I am surviving on a newfoun d tolerance for lattes and Diet Coke.
Jack has started to hover over me. What does he want? Di d you get my owers? Let me know. I know I will break even fu rther—and I have nothing left to break. Grey Enterprises Holdings. By lunchtime on Wednesday.
My e-mail pings. If I talk to Mom. Christian Grey Subject: Tomorrow Date: June 8 Anastasia Ste ele Dear Anastasia Forgive this intrusion at work. Christian Grey CEO. Holy shit. I sit and begin trawling through a pile of correspondence addressed to h im. I manage a cup o f yogurt.
I woul d be more than happy to take you—should you wish. I miss him. I love him. Of course I do. I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in in icting pain on me.
I must be strong. I clutch my forehea d. Taking a deep breath. Can I see him again? Could I bear it? Do I want to see him? I close my eyes and tilt my head back as grief and longing lance th rough me. I cry myself to sleep at night. How long will this hideou s overwhelming feeling last? I am in purgatory. Anastasia Steele. I wrap my arms around my body. Anastasia Steele Subject: Christian is right. Torturous memories ash through my mind—the gliding. I really miss him.
I hastily leave my desk and bolt to the restroom to escap e into one of the stalls. Holy hell. I head back to my desk. How did he ge t my e-mail address? He knows my shoe size. I am such an idiot! I still have it set to forward calls to the BlackBerry. SIP Checking my phone.
I nd that it is still set to forward calls to the BlackBerry. I would appreciate a lift. What time should I be there tomorrow for your show? Thank you. Anastasia Steele Assistant to Jack Hyde. Christian Grey Hi Christian Thank you for the they are lovely. Jack is in a meeting. Anastasia Ste ele Dear Anastasia. SIP From: Anastasia Ste ele Dear Anastasia Portland is some distance away.
I look forward to seeing you. What time would you suggest? Anastasia Steele Assist ant to Jack Hyde. I shall pick you up at 5: Turning on my side. I toss and turn. My thoughts plague me into the early hours until eventually I fall into a tful. Why does he feel that way? Does it have to do with his upbringing?
His birth mom. SIP Oh my. I hug my pillow. T he dress is looser on me than it was. Has he missed me? That night in bed. I resolve to go clothes shopping with my rst paycheck. His tortured expression haunts me.
I look at the pile of correspondence I need to s ort for Jack and tackle it as I try to push Christian out of my mind once more. Why would I stay when things had reached such an impasse? We were each skirting around our own issues—my fear of punishmen t. Has he found a new submissive?
The thought is so painful that I dismiss it immediately. I turn and climb into the back. Tidyin g my hair so that it hangs artfully down my back. Nervously I walk through the foyer with a smile and a wave to Clai re at Reception.
I ap ply some mascara and eyeliner and pinch my cheeks. I glance hesitantly at Jack. We should celebrate. My mouth dries. In the large mirror on the wall. How am I going to do this? I hurry in to the restroom to make last-minute adjustments. Outside on the cur b. This wil l have to do. An ex-boyfriend. He opens the rear door of the car.
Not really. I think she and I could become friends. Smiling broadly. I take a long. His gray eyes are glowing. I wish I knew how to use makeup. Drinks with the boss. I frown at his retreatin g back. Jack is talking to Eliz abeth as I head for the doors. I shake my head. I have an ev ening of Christian Grey to get through rst. I look gaunt. Putting his hand s in his pockets. Taylor is waiting. I glance up and Jack is waving at me. Tell me. Please eat. C hristian. Your last meal?
And for the rst time in a long time. I had a yogurt at lunchtime. I s tare down at the knotted ngers in my lap.
Answer me. Oh—and a banana. I groan in frustration. He closes his eyes as fury. Why does he always make me feel like an errant child?
He shifts and turns toward me. I wan t to laugh. I wave back. I try hard to sti e the giggle that threatens to bubble up. Miss Steele. He gives me a warm. A few minutes later Taylor pulls to a stop at the curb. Charlie Tango. Skin against skin. For a moment. I smile back. He smells of linen. Taylor opens the door and I slide out. I want to struggle out of his hold. We need to talk. He looks quizzically at Taylor.
Fifty Shades Darker
I allow myself the illusion that al l will be well. I swallow. I me lt. He has his arms around me. I rest my head against him. This is home. He glances down at me. I still affect him. I gaze up at him. As the door s open. How can he still do t his to me? Icarus to his sun. Reaching the elevators. I revel in the feel of his hand and his long. I want him. He clasps my hand and grazes my knuckles with his thumb. Abruptly the doors open.
How could I not?Enraged, Ana throws her drink at Elena and tells her to mind her own business. She does want to do this now. She is now working at Seattle publishing house. His eyes light up. Everything south of my waistline convulses. In his own way. I gaze out at the sea, tuning out his conversation with Ros—I think—his number two.
So in a very calculating move. I look like hell.