Shades of Grey, Fifty Shades. Darker, and Fifty Shades Freed are Trilogy cover design by Peter Quach. Fifty Shades of Grey on file at Library of Congress. 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. E L James is currently working on the sequel to Fifty Shades of Grey and a new romantic thriller with a supernatural My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey's global enterprise. It's a huge . They are exquisite – a series of mundane .
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Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian. We've got this. Shocked yet thrilled by Grey's singular erotic tastes, Ana hesitates. At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. Fifty Shades of grey as Told by Christian by E.
Great book in like new condition. First book of the trilogy. Please see the pictures. All sales are final. More than million copies sold world wide. When literature student Anastasia Steele interviews successful entrepreneur Christian Grey, she finds him very attractive and deeply intimidating. Unworldly and innocent, Ana is shocked to find she wants this man.
La inexperta e inocente Ana intenta olvidarle, pero pronto comprende cuanto le desea. Debe admitir que la desea, pero bajo ciertas condiciones.
Cuando la pareja por fin inicia una apasionada relacion, Ana se sorprende por las peculiares practicas eroticas de Grey al tiempo que descubre los limites de sus propios y mas oscuros deseos. Book One of the Fifty Shades Trilogy. Series 50 Shades Trilogy. Format Hardcover. Results Pagination - Page 1 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Top Rated.
See All. Hot This Week. James -- Story. Fifty Shades Freed: Got one to sell? Make an Offer. New "Fifty Shades" by E. James paperback book - Highly Popular. Shop by Category. Format see all.
Subject see all. Literature, Modern. Fifty Shades of Grey Filter Applied. Author see all. El James Filter Applied. Publication Year see all.
Language see all. Condition see all. Brand New. We head out onto the helipad toward Charlie Tango. Stephan, my pilot, runs toward us. We shake hands, and I keep Anastasia tucked under my arm.
Safe flight to Portland. We duck down under the rotors and I open the door, taking her hand to help her climb aboard. As I strap her into the seat, her breath hitches. The sound travels straight to my groin. I run the back of my index finger down her cheek, tracing the line of her blush. Lord, I want this woman. I hand her some headphones, take my seat, and buckle up. I run through my preflight checks. All instruments are in the green with no advisory lights.
It all looks good. I don my headphones, switch on the radios, and check the rotor rpm. Once I have permission to take off, I check the oil temperature and the rest of the gauges. Oh, I love this. Feeling a little more confident as we gain altitude, I glance at Miss Steele beside me. Time to dazzle her. Showtime, Grey. Now the dusk. Hope stirs in my chest. I have her here when I thought all was lost and she seems happier now than when she walked out of her office.
Flynn would be proud. I can do this. I can win her back. Baby steps, Grey. Boeing there—and you can just see the Space Needle. We can eat there. That is not what I want to hear, but I try not to overreact. I can still take you there. And feed you. Thank you. Keep her talking, Grey. Has he tried anything with her?
I will fire his ass if he has. I like that she mocks and teases me. Concentrate, Grey. She looks away, concealing her smile, and stares down at the suburbs passing beneath us while I check the heading. Her face is lit with curiosity and wonder as she gazes out at the landscape below and the opal sky.
Her cheeks are soft and glowing in the evening light. How could I have let her walk out of my life? What was I thinking? While we race above the clouds in our bubble, high in the sky, my optimism grows and the turmoil of the last week recedes. I could get used to this. But as we near our destination my confidence falters.
I hope to God that my plan works. I need to take her somewhere private. To dinner, maybe. I should have booked a table somewhere.
Download Fifty Shades of Grey pdf by E. L. James
She needs feeding. These last few days have shown me that I need someone—I need her. I want her, but will she have me? Can I convince her to give me a second chance?
Time will tell, Grey—just take it easy. But will it be enough for her? Will it be enough for me? Talk to her, Grey. As ever, she smells good.
Fifty Shades Freed
Her eyes meet mine in a furtive glance—revealing an inappropriate thought? What exactly is she thinking? Joe, the manager of the helipad, is waiting to greet us. Nothing escapes his notice. His eyes light up as he gives me a craggy smile. A pleasing vision of them hooked over my shoulders springs to mind. Putting my arm around her waist, I pull her to my side and we descend the stairs. The man who, last time I saw him, was trying to push his tongue into her mouth. Perhaps this is a long-anticipated rendezvous between them.
Since when? Since she stripped me of all my armor and I discovered that I needed her. She stares at me and my stomach tightens. Fuck this. I want you back, and I want you healthy. We pull up at the gallery and I have no time to explain before the show.
She looks mad as she climbs out. Where you want to be. The space is brightly lit and airy. A young woman greets us. Look elsewhere. She shakes her head and her frown deepens. I shrug. Well, this is Portland.
For his part, he looks really fucking interested in her. Too interested. Anger flares in my chest. He wants more. Red or white? Tuning him out, I glance at Ana. She looks sensational. Her hair frames her face and falls in a lush cascade to curl at her breasts. Her dress, looser than I remember, still hugs her curves. She might have worn it deliberately. Hot dress, hot boots… Fuck—control yourself, Grey. She nods at something he says and gives him a warm, carefree smile.
He leans down and kisses her cheek. I glare at the bartender. Hurry up, man. At least Rodriguez has left her alone. She glances up at me with a guarded expression as I hand her a glass. I take a quick sip from mine. Rarely does at these kinds of events.
It irks me. She admires him and takes an interest in his success because she cares about him. She cares about him too much. An ugly emotion with a bitter sting rises in my chest. I want to tell him to fuck off but decide to be polite.
The photographer takes a few snaps. Grey, thank you. She peers at me.
Are you gay, Mr. And my annoyance. That seems so long ago. I shake my head and continue. But you know that. Not on dates. Shopping, you know. However, the gallery is too public a setting. Her cheeks turn that delicious pink that I love, and she stares down at her hands. I need to get her out of here and on her own. Then we can talk seriously and eat. We stroll through the gallery, stopping briefly at each photograph. We turn the corner—and stop. There she is.
Seven full-blown portraits of Anastasia Steele. She looks jaw-droppingly beautiful, natural, and relaxed—laughing, scowling, pouting, pensive, amused, and in one of them, wistful and sad. As I scrutinize the detail in each photograph, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wants to be much more than her friend. Ana is staring at them in stunned silence, as surprised as I am to see them. I want the pictures.
Stunning work. When I return to Ana, I find a blond dude chatting with her, trying his luck. I place a territorial hand on her elbow and give him my best fuck-off-now glare. Are you serious? Her lips part in astonishment, and I try not to let it distract me. I glance back at the pictures. She gasps as my fingers make contact with her chin. Again, that sound; I feel it in my groin.
Too hopeful. Shit, are we doing this here, now? I want to do this in private. She clears her throat and draws herself up to full height. Not talk to you, unless you gave me permission to do so. What do you expect? Why is she doing this here? We need to leave. What the hell? She does want to do this now. She fucking asked me how bad it could get!
Anger erupts like Mount St. Helens deep in my chest. I run my hands through my hair to prevent myself from grabbing her and dragging her outside so we can continue this discussion in private. I take a deep breath. Find the boy, say goodbye. Say good-bye. I recognize that stubborn, mulish set to her mouth. We are leaving if I have to pick her up and carry her. She gives me a withering look and turns with a sharp spin, her hair flying so that it hits my shoulder.
She stalks off to find him. As she moves away I struggle to recover my equilibrium. What is it about her that presses all my buttons? I want to scold her, spank her, and fuck her. And in that order. I scan the room. The boy—no, Rodriguez—is standing with a flock of female admirers. He listens intently to everything she has to say, then sweeps her into his arms, spinning her around.
Get your fat paws off my girl. She glances at me, then weaves her hands into his hair and presses her cheek to his and whispers something in his ear. They continue talking.
His arms around her. Fortunately for him, he releases her as I approach. Oh, Mr. Rodriguez, very impressive.
Congratulations again. It takes all my self-control not to haul her over my shoulder. Instead I drag her by the hand to the front door and out onto the street.
Right now. I grab her face between my hands, pinning her body with mine as rage and desire mix in a heady, explosive cocktail. I capture her lips with mine and our teeth clash, but then my tongue is in her mouth. She tastes of cheap wine and delicious, sweet, sweet Ana. Oh, this mouth. I have missed this mouth. She ignites around me.
Her fingers are in my hair, pulling hard. Her hunger is unexpected. Desire bursts through my body, like a forest fire licking through dry tinder. She wants this, too. I groan in response, undone. With one hand, I hold her at the nape of her neck as we kiss.
My free hand travels down her body, and I reacquaint myself with her curves: her breast, her waist, her ass, her thigh. She moans as my fingers find the hem of her dress and start tugging it higher. My goal is to pull it up, fuck her here. Make her mine, again. The feel of her. In the distance and through the fog of my lust, I hear a police siren wail.
Not like this. Get a grip. Has anyone ever affected me like this? I nearly fucked her in a back alley. This is jealousy. This is what it feels like: my insides gutted and raw, my self-control absent. Do you want the photographer, Anastasia? He obviously has feelings for you. Yet you…you bring out feelings in me that are completely alien. I cannot find the vocabulary to describe how I feel. See how I am around you, Ana. I run my hand through my hair, taking deep, thought-clearing breaths.
I grab her hand. I open the door for her. Ana purses her lips, annoyed. What now? You should be embarrassed. Even I can see that. Leading me on? Power over me. The waiter returns with the wine list, giving me a chance to regain my cool.
The selection is average: only one drinkable wine on the menu. I know that look. Perhaps she wanted to select her own meal. Oh, tit for tat, Miss Steele. I realize our bickering will get us nowhere. That word, indeed. I remember I last used it while discussing our arrangement on Saturday morning. The day my world fell apart. Man up, Grey. Tell her what you want. Oh no. She swallows and takes a steadying breath. Perhaps my behavior over the last hour has finally driven her away. I tense. I behaved stupidly, and you—so did you.
This has haunted me. She wilts in her seat. But before I recover, words tumble from her mouth. I was trying to be what you wanted me to be, trying to deal with the pain, and it went out of my mind.
I clutch the table for something to anchor me to the now as I let this alarming information register. Did I remind her of her safe words? The e-mail that she sent me the first time I spanked her comes to mind. I should have reminded her. She knows she has safe words. I remember telling her more than once. And I want to reiterate we have safe words, okay?
She hesitates. Or I will fuck it with you on your knees.
Do you understand? What kind of relationship is that? My spirits sink. I should never have chased her. The waiter arrives with the wine as we stare with incredulity at each other. Maybe I should have done a better job of explaining it to her. Eliminate the negative. The irritating prick takes too much time opening the bottle. Is he trying to entertain us? Or is it just Ana he wants to impress?
He finally pops the cork and pours a taste for me. I take a quick sip. He fills our glasses and leaves. Each trying to discern what the other is thinking. When she opens them, I see her despair. Is she done with me? Is there no hope? Oh, thank God.
I thought it was over. I feel like the sun has set and not risen for five days, Ana. It made me relax. Her open and honest compassion is written all over her lovely face as she reaches for her wine. This is my chance.Fifty shades of grey have topped exceptional-supplier lists around the arena. The book's erotic nature and perceived demographic of its fan base as being composed largely of married women over thirty led to the book being dubbed "Mommy Porn" by some news agencies.
She loves it. Ana xx I grin at the screen. She looks mad as she climbs out. I run my hand through my hair, taking deep, thought-clearing breaths.
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