Dakota Johnson 50 Shades Of Grey Novels & Stories

She froze, eyes wide. “Give me the book, Daisy.” Daisy looked like she might cry, but she knew better than to argue. Jaxon watched her, barely holding back a grin as she slowly reached into her bag and handed over the book. He took it and glanced at the cover. Then groaned, dropping his head in disbelief. Fifty Shades of Grey.

Chapter 7 Mia’s POV. I froze right there on Loren’s lap, my cunt still stretched wide around his thick cock buried balls-deep, my heavy tits out and bouncing from the last thrust as my body locked up in complete shock. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I felt dizzy, hot tears of pure embarrassment spilling down my cheeks and mixing with the sweat already running down my face while my pussy kept betraying me, clenching and fluttering around his fat shaft like it never wanted to let go.

Get out of here before the drugs render me useless. But everything is spinning, and my eyes feel like they want to close.... He grabs my hand, turning toward the exit, but stops abruptly at the sight of another Alpha in front of him. Unsure of what he's doing, I tilt my head around his body to see through the cloudy haze of swirling drunkenness, to see Grayson standing there. "Where are you going?" He question Noah, as if I don't exist. When did he get here? I can't really see him properly, but I know it's him. The dark suit, disheveled hair, and silver eyes blur together in colour, but the aura he seems to admit makes sense to my body. I hate that fact.

“What did you expect? That I’d crawl into bed with you and whisper sweet things in the dark? This isn't a romance novel, Dakota. Stick to the contract." I leaned closer, my voice low. “I expected basic decency.” His brow arched. “Then you married the wrong Grey.” “To hell with you,” I snapped. “And your arrogant, self-centered asshole. You are always making me feel like I’m less. Like I’m not good enough to breathe the same air as a Grey.” His eyes narrowed. Just a flicker. But I caught it. Anger was rising in those pale gray eyes. I hit something. Good.

God, she looked like a Victorian lady, so elegant and, bloody hell, like a very precious ornament that he couldn’t afford to touch. Today she had her long, ash brown curls loosely braided and resting over one shoulder. As he came closer, he noticed that today her eyes were two different colors again. Her left eye was an azure-blue color, bright and shinning just like the clear blue sky above New York City on this very fine spring day. Her right eye, on the other hand, was the color of the moon on a stormy night, a mauve-gray color that he’d never seen before on any person. No, he was lying there. He had actually seen that very same odd color on one particular person. He was the young, famous