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Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Fifty Shades, Book 2
Publisher: The Writer’s Coffee Shop
Hero: Christian Grey
Heroine: Anastasia Rose Steele
Date of Publication: September 15, 2011
Started On: January 14, 2012
Finished On: January 15, 2012
Fifty Shades Darker, book 2 in the Fifty Shades series begins right where book 1 ended. Fifty Shades of Grey ended on a bittersweet note, with Anastasia (Ana) walking out on Christian and their arrangement because she cannot accept the much darker needs that arises in Christian.
But the one thing that Ana doesn’t count on is just how much she misses Christian though their affair might have been a doomed one from the start. She doesn’t envisage that the calm, cool and always in control Christian might miss her on the same level, that her beautiful lover might be brought to his very knees because of her. And once again, Christian enters into her life, this time with an altogether different proposition, one that allows both Ana and Christian to find their way in the uncharted waters that is their relationship.
I absolutely loved the second installment of the Fifty Shades series. The first book found me a bit apprehensive about Christian’s character, but nevertheless I was drawn towards his tortured soul, one that is so tormented by his past that I was practically itching with my need to find more about him. And with the opening prologue itself, E.L. James delivered a glimpse into the darkness that had been Christian’s life as a child, a past that still continues to haunt him, a battle that he continues to fight in earnest to be someone worthy of Ana’s love.
Ana has her work cut out for her when it comes to Christian. With all her insecurities about not being enough for Christian, she has to take in stride the women from Christian’s past who makes their presence known and felt, some in more disturbing ways than others. But the one thing that rights true and constant throughout the story that unfolds is the love that grows exponentially between Ana and Christian, their need for one another a thing of beauty in my opinion.
Its sheer wonder to be part of the journey that Christian seems to be taking towards freedom; freedom from the shackles that seems to hold him back from embracing a life that is worthy of a man like him. He thinks so lowly of himself though Christian is the stuff heroes are made out of. Seen through Ana’s eyes, I cannot help but sigh and moon over him, the way he seduces and in turn gets seduced by the woman he loves something to savor through each and every well done encounter.
There were moments in the story when I thought that Christian and his lethal brand of seduction and the sexual tension that he creates merely by looking at Ana in a certain way would certainly be the death of me. But, oh dear God, how I loved each and every encounter that E.L. James creates and brings so vividly to life, nothing tacky or icky about any of the scenes; just pure sexual heat together with emotions of the more tender variety to make things that much more sigh worthy!
I am absolutely on tenterhooks now awaiting the arrival of the 19th of this month when the last and final book in the trilogy will be released, where my Fifty Shades would finally become free from the past that continues to haunt him. I am definitely rooting for a happily ever after that would rock me to my very soul when it comes to Ana and Christian.
Highly recommended for fans of the series and fans of tortured and tormented heroes.
I gasp, and his mouth swoops down. He’s kissing me, violently. Briefly our teeth clash, then his tongue is in my mouth.
Desire explodes like the Fourth of July throughout my body, and I’m kissing him back, matching his fervor, my hands knotting in his hair, pulling it, hard. He groans, a low sexy sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through me, and his hand moves down my body to the top of my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh through the plum dress.
I pour all the angst and heartbreak of the last few days into our kiss, binding him to me, and it hits me—in this moment of blinding passion—he’s doing the same, he feels the same.
“Cold?” Christian asks softly and bends to lick and suckle all the ice cream off me once more, his mouth hot compared to the cool of the ice.
Oh my. It’s torture. As it starts to melt, the ice cream runs off me in rivulets on to the bed. His lips continue their slow torture, sucking hard, nuzzling, softly—Oh please!—I’m panting.
“Want some?” And before I can confirm or deny his offer, his tongue is in my mouth, and it’s cold and skilled and tastes of Christian and vanilla. Delicious.
“This way,” he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once more, but he doesn’t start his usual punishing rhythm straight away. He leans over, releases my hands, and pulls me upright so I am practically sitting on him. His hands move up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugging gently on my nipples. I groan, tossing my head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles my neck, biting down, as he flexes his hips, deliciously slowly, filling me again and again.
“Do you know how much you mean to me?” he breathes against my ear.
“No,” I gasp.
He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl around my jaw and throat, holding me fast for a moment. “Yes, you do. I’m not going to let you go.” I groan as he picks up speed. “You are mine, Anastasia.” “Yes, yours,” I pant. “I take care of what’s mine,” he hisses and bites my ear.
“I want you, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It’s very new. I need to know that we’re okay. It’s the only way I know how.”
“My feelings for you haven’t changed,” I whisper.
His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, all my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the patch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire—I want to taste him there.
He’s so close, but he doesn’t touch me. His heat is warming my skin.
“I’m not going to touch you until you say yes,” he says softly. “But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us.”
“You love strapping me in, don’t you?”
“In any form,” he says, a wicked grin playing on his lips.
“You are a pervert.”
“I know.” He raises his eyebrows and his grin broadens.
“My pervert,” I whisper.
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