PENELOPE
Christian and I spent the rest of the weekend locked in our penthouse, subsisting on room service and orgasms and christening every surface‐though I'm not sure “christening” was the right word to use, considering how filthy our activities were.
Sex with Christian was s*x like I'd never known. Raw. Animalistic. Soul-destroying in the best possible way. It shattered every preconceived notion of who I was and molded me into something darker, more depraved. He called me princess one moment and his w***e the next.
And I loved it.
Even at his coldest, Christian had always treated me with some sort of respect outside the bedroom, but inside the bedroom, I was his toy. His to f**k and use–in the shower, pressed against the window, bent over the desk–and I craved it as much as he did.
