Part II 15

She laughs. “No, Ana. Can I fix you a drink or something? You look beat.” “I’d love a glass of wine.” “White?” “Yes, please.” I perch on one of the bar stools, and she hands me a glass of chilled wine. I don’t know what it is, but it’s delicious and slides down easily, soothing my shattered nerves. What was I thinking about earlier today? How alive I ha一ve felt since I met Christian. How exciting my life has become. Jeez, could I just ha一ve a few boring days? What if I’d never met Christian? I’d be holed up in my apartment, talking it through with Ethan, completely freaked by my encounter with Jack, knowing I would ha一ve to face the sleazeball again on Friday. As it is, there’s every chance I’ll never set eyes on him again. But who will I work for now? I frown. I hadn’t thought of that. Shit, do I even ha一ve a job? “Evening, Gail,” Christian says as he comes back into the great room, dragging me from my thoughts. Heading straight to the fridge, he pours himself a glass of wine. “Good evening, Mr. Grey. Dinner in ten, sir?” “Sounds good.” Christian raises his glass. “To ex-military men who train their daughters well,” he says and his eyes soften. “Cheers,” I mutter, raising my glass. “What’s wrong?” Christian asks. “I don’t know if I still ha一ve a job.” He cocks his head to the side. “Do you still want one?” “Of course.” “Then you still ha一ve one.” Simple. See? He is master of my universe. I roll my eyes at him and he smiles. eyes at him and he smiles. Mrs. Jones makes a mean chicken potpie. She has left us to enjoy the fruits of her labors, and I feel much better now I’ve had something to eat. We are sitting at the breakfast bar, and despite my best cajoling, Christian won’t tell me what Barney has found on Jack’s computer. I drop the subject, and decide to tackle instead the thorny issue of José’s impending visit. “José called,” I say nonchalantly. “Oh?” Christian turns to face me. “He wants to deliver your photos on Friday.” “A personal delivery. How accommodating of him,” Christian mutters. “He wants to go out. For a drink. With me.” “I see.” “And Kate and Elliot should be back,” I add quickly. Christian puts his fork down, frowning at me. “What exactly are you asking?” “What exactly are you asking?” I bristle. “I’m not asking anything. I’m informing you of my plans for Friday. Look, I want to see José, and he wants to stay over. Either he stays here or he can stay at my place, but if he does I should be there, too.” Christian’s eyes widen. He looks dumbfounded. “He made a pass at you.” “Christian, that was weeks ago. He was drunk, I was drunk, you sa一ved the day—it won’t happen again. He’s no Jack, for hea一ven’s sake.” “Ethan’s there. He can keep him company.” “He wants to see me, not Ethan.” Christian scowls at me. “He’s just a friend.” My voice is emphatic. “I don’t like it.” So what? Jeez, he’s irritating sometimes. I take a deep breath. “He’s my friend, Christian. I ha一ven’t seen him since his show. And that was too brief. I know you don’t ha一ve any friends, apart from that god-awful woman, but I don’t moan about you seeing her,” I snap. Christian blinks, moan about you seeing her,” I snap. Christian blinks, shocked. “I want to see him. I’ve been a poor friend to him.” My subconscious is alarmed. Are you stamping your little foot? Steady now! Gray eyes blaze at me. “Is that what you think?” he breathes. “Think about what?” “Elena. You’d rather I didn’t see her?” Holy cow. “Exactly. I’d rather you didn’t see her.” “Why didn’t you say?” “Because it’s not my place to say. You think she’s your only friend.” I shrug in exasperation. He really doesn’t get it. How did this turn into a conversation about her? I don’t even want to think about her. I try to steer us back to José. “Just as it’s not your place to say if I can or can’t see José. Don’t you see that?” Christian gazes at me, perplexed, I think. Oh, what is he thinking? “He can stay here, I suppose,” he mutters. “I can keep an eye on him.” He sounds petulant. Hallelujah! “Thank you! You know, if I am going to live here, too . . .” I trail off. Christian nods. He knows what I’m trying to say. “It’s not like you ha一ven’t got the space.” I smirk. His lips quirk up slowly. “Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?” “Most definitely, Mr. Grey.” I get up just in case his palms start twitching, clear our plates, and then load them into the dishwasher. “Gail will do that.” “I’ve done it now.” I stand up and gaze at him. He’s watching me intently. “I ha一ve to work for a while,” he says apologetically. “Cool. I’ll find something to do.” “Come here,” he orders, but his voice is soft and seductive, his eyes heated. I don’t hesitate to walk into his arms, clasping him around his neck as he perches on his bar stool. He wraps his arms around me, crushes me to him, and just holds me. him, and just holds me. “Are you okay?” he whispers into my hair. “Okay?” “After what happened with that fucker? After what happened yesterday?” he adds, his voice quiet and earnest. I gaze into dark, serious, gray eyes. Am I okay? “Yes,” I whisper. His arms tighten around me, and I feel safe, cherished, and loved all at once. It’s blissful. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the feel of being in his arms. I love this man. I love his intoxicating scent, his strength, his mercurial ways—my Fifty. “Let’s not fight,” he murmurs. He kisses my hair and inhales deeply. “You smell hea一venly as usual, Ana.” “So do you,” I whisper and kiss his neck. All too soon he releases me. “I should only be a couple of hours.” I wander listlessly through the apartment. Christian is still working. I ha一ve showered and dressed in some sweats and a T-shirt of my own, and I’m bored. I don’t want to read. If I sit still, I’ll recall Jack and his fingers on me. I check out my old bedroom, the subs’ room. José can sleep here—he’ll like the view. It’s about eight fifteen, and the sun is beginning to sink into the west. The lights of the city twinkle below me. It’s glorious. Yes, José will like it here. I wonder idly where Christian will hang José’s pictures of me. I’d rather he didn’t. I am not keen on looking at myself. Back down the hallway I find myself outside the playroom, and without thinking, I try the door handle. Christian normally keeps it locked, but to my surprise, the door opens. How strange. Feeling like a child playing hooky and straying into the forbidden forest, I walk in. It’s dark. I flick the switch and the lights under the cornice light up with a soft glow. It’s as I remember it. A womb-like room. Memories of the last time I was in here flash through my mind. The belt . . . I wince at the recollection. Now it hangs innocently, lined up with others, on the rack beside the door. Tentatively I run my fingers over the belts, the floggers, the paddles, and the whips. Sheesh. This is what I need to square with Dr. Flynn. Can someone in this lifestyle just stop? It seems so improbable. Wandering over to the bed, I sit on soft red satin sheets, gazing around at all the apparatus. Beside me is the bench, above that the assortment of canes. So many! Surely one is enough? Well, the less said about that the better. And the large table. We never tried that, whatever he does on it. My eyes fall on the chesterfield, and I move over to sit on it. It’s just a couch, nothing extraordinary about it—nothing to fasten anything to, not that I can see. Glancing behind me, I spy the museum chest. My curiosity is piqued. What does he keep in there? As I pull open the top drawer I realize my blood is pounding through my veins. Why am I so nervous? This pounding through my veins. Why am I so nervous? This feels so illicit, as if I’m trespassing, which of course I am. But if he wants to marry me, well . . . Holy fuck, what’s all this? An array of instruments and bizarre implements—I don’t ha一ve a clue what they are, or what they’re for—are carefully laid out in the display drawer. I pick one up. It’s bullet-shaped with a sort of handle. Hmm . . . what the hell do you do with that? My mind boggles, though I think I ha一ve an idea. Jeez, there are four different sizes! My scalp prickles and I glance up. Christian is standing in the doorway, staring at me, his face unreadable. How long has he been there? I feel like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “Hi.” I smile nervously at him, and I know my eyes are wide and that I’m deathly pale. “What are you doing?” he says softly, but there’s an undercurrent in his tone. Oh shit. Is he mad? I flush. “Er . . . I was bored and curious,” I mutter, embarrassed to be found out. He said curious,” I mutter, embarrassed to be found out. He said he’d be two hours. “That’s a very dangerous combination.” He runs his long index finger across his lower lip in quiet contemplation, not taking his eyes off me. I swallow and my mouth is dry. Slowly, he enters the room and closes the door quietly behind him, his eyes liquid gray fire. Oh my. He leans casually over the chest of drawers, but I think his stance is deceptive. My inner goddess doesn’t know whether it’s fight or flight time. “So, what exactly are you curious about, Miss Steele? Perhaps I could enlighten you.” “The door was open . . . I—” I gaze at Christian as I hold my breath and blink, uncertain as ever of his reaction or what I should say. His eyes are dark. I think he’s amused, but it’s difficult to tell. He places his elbows on the museum chest and rests his chin on his clasped hands. “I was in here earlier today wondering what to do with it all. I must ha一ve forgotten to lock it.” He scowls momentarily as if lea一ving the door unlocked is a terrible lapse in judgment. I frown—it’s not like him to be forgetful. “Oh?” “But now here you are, curious as ever.” His voice is soft, puzzled. “You’re not mad?” I whisper, using my remaining breath. He cocks his head to one side, and his lips twitch in amusement. “Why would I be mad?” “I feel like I’m trespassing . . . and you’re always mad at me.” My voice is quiet, though I’m relieved. Christian’s brow creases once more. “Yes, you’re trespassing, but I’m not mad. I hope that one day you’ll live with me here, and all this”—he gestures vaguely round the room with one hand—“will be yours, too.” My playroom . . . eh? I gape at him—that’s a lot to take in. take in. “That’s why I was in here today. Trying to decide what to do.” He taps his lips with his index finger. “Am I angry with you all the time? I wasn’t this morning.” Oh, that’s true. I smile at the memory of Christian when we woke, and it distracts me from the thought of what will become of the playroom. He was such fun Fifty this morning. “You were playful. I like playful Christian.” “Do you now?” He arches an eyebrow, and his beautiful mouth curves up in a smile, a shy smile. Wow! “What’s this?” I hold up the silver bullet thing. “Always hungry for information, Miss Steele. That’s a butt plug,” he says gently. “Oh . . .” “Bought for you.” What? “For me?” He nods slowly, his face now serious and wary. I frown. “You buy new, er . . . toys . . . for each submissive?” submissive?” “Some things. Yes.” “Butt plugs?” “Yes.” Okay . . . I swallow. Butt plug. It’s solid metal—surely that’s uncomfortable? I remember our discussion about sex toys and hard limits after I graduated. I think at the time I said I would try. Now, actually seeing one, I don’t know if it’s something I want to do. I examine it once more and place it back in the drawer. “And this?” I take out a long, black rubbery object, made of gradually diminishing spherical bubbles joined together, the first one large and the last much smaller. Eight bubbles in total. “Anal beads,” says Christian, watching me carefully. Oh! I examine them with fascinated horror. All of these, inside me . . . there! I had no idea. “They ha一ve quite an effect if you pull them out midorgasm,” he adds matter-of-factly. “This is for me?” I whisper. “For you.” He nods slowly. “This is the butt drawer?” He smirks. “If you like.” I close it quickly, flushing like a stoplight. “Don’t you like the butt drawer?” he asks innocently, amused. I gaze at him and shrug, trying to brazen out my shock. “It’s not top of my Christmas card list,” I mutter nonchalantly. Tentatively, I open the second drawer. He grins. “Next drawer down holds a selection of vibrators.” I shut the drawer quickly. “And the next?” I whisper, ashen once more, but this time with embarrassment. “That’s more interesting.” Oh! Hesitantly I pull the drawer open, not taking my eyes off his beautiful but rather smug face. Inside there are an assortment of metal items and some clothespins. Clothespins! I pick up a large metal clip-like device. “Genital clamp,” Christian says. He stands up and “Genital clamp,” Christian says. He stands up and moves casually around so that he’s beside me. I put it back immediately and choose something more delicate— two small clips on a chain. “Some of these are for pain, but most are for pleasure,” he murmurs. “What’s this?” “Nipple clamps—that’s for both.” “Both? Nipples?” Christian smirks at me. “Well, there are two clamps, baby. Yes, both nipples, but that’s not what I meant. These are for both pleasure and pain.” Oh. He takes it from me. “Hold out your little finger.” I do as he asks, and he clamps one clip to the tip of my finger. It’s not too harsh. “The sensation is very intense, but it’s when taking them off that they are at their most painful and pleasurable.” I remove the clip. Hmm, that might be nice. I squirm at the thought. nice. I squirm at the thought. “I like the look of these,” I murmur and Christian smiles. “Do you now, Miss Steele? I think I can tell.” I nod shyly, biting my lip. He reaches up and tugs on my chin so I release my bottom lip. “You know what that does to me,” he murmurs. I put the clips back in the drawer, and Christian leans forward and pulls out two more. “These are adjustable.” He holds them up for me to inspect. “Adjustable?” “You can wear them very tight . . . or not. Depending on your mood.” How does he make that sound so erotic? I swallow, and to divert his attention, pull out a device that looks like a spiky pastry cutter. “This?” I frown. No baking in the playroom, surely. “That’s a Wartenberg pinwheel.” “For?” He reaches over and takes it from me. “Give me your hand. Palm up.” I offer him my left hand and he takes it gently, skating his thumb over my knuckles. A shiver runs through me. His skin against mine, it never fails to thrill me. He runs the wheel over my palm. “Ah!” The prongs bite into my skin—there’s more than just pain. In fact, it tickles slightly. “Imagine that over your breasts,” Christian murmurs lasciviously. Oh! I flush and snatch my hand back. My breathing and heart rate increase. Holy cow. “There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, Anastasia,” he says softly as he leans down and puts the device back in the drawer. “Clothespins?” I whisper. “You can do a great deal with a clothespins.” His gray eyes burn. I lean against the drawer so it closes. “Is that all?” Christian looks amused. “Is that all?” Christian looks amused. “No . . .” I pull open the fourth drawer to be confounded by a mass of leather and straps. I tug at one of the straps . . . it appears to be attached to a ball. “Ball gag. To keep you quiet,” says Christian, amused once more. “Soft limit,” I mutter. “I remember,” he says. “But you can still breathe. Your teeth clamp over the ball.” Taking it from me, he replicates a mouth clamping down on the ball with his fingers. “Ha一ve you worn one of these?” I ask. He stills and gazes down at me. “Yes.” “To mask your screams?” He closes his eyes, and I think it’s in exasperation. “No, that’s not what they’re about.” Oh? “It’s about control, Anastasia. How helpless would you be if you were tied up and couldn’t speak? How trusting would you ha一ve to be, knowing I had that much power over you? That I had to read your body and your power over you? That I had to read your body and your reaction, rather than hear your words? It makes you more dependent, puts me in ultimate control.” I swallow. “You sound like you miss it.” “It’s what I know,” he murmurs, gazing down at me. His gray eyes are wide and serious, and the atmosphere between us has changed as if he’s in the confessional. “You ha一ve power over me. You know you do,” I whisper. “Do I? You make me feel . . . helpless.” “No!” Oh Fifty . . . “Why?” “Because you’re the only person I know who could really hurt me.” He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Oh, Christian . . . that works both ways. If you didn’t want me—” I shudder, glancing down at my twisting fingers. Therein lays my other dark reservation about us. If he wasn’t so . . . broken, would he want me? I shake my head. I must try not to think like that. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I love you,” I murmur, reaching up to run my fingers through his sideburn and gently stroke his cheek. He leans his face into my touch, drops the gag back in the drawer, and reaches for me, his hands around my waist. He pulls me against him. “Ha一ve we finished show and tell?” he asks, his voice soft and seductive. His hand moves up my back to the nape of my neck. “Why? What did you want to do?” He bends and kisses me gently, and I melt against him, grasping his arms. “Ana, you were nearly attacked today.” His voice is soft but ice-cold and wary. “So?” I ask, enjoying the feel of his hand at my back and his proximity. He pulls his head back and scowls down at me. “What do you mean, ‘so?’ ” he rebukes. I gaze up into his lovely, grumpy face, and I’m dazzled. “Christian, I’m fine.” He wraps me in his arms, holding me close. “When I He wraps me in his arms, holding me close. “When I think what might ha一ve happened,” he breathes, burying his face in my hair. “When will you learn that I’m stronger than I look?” I whisper reassuringly into his neck, inhaling his delicious scent. There is nothing better on the planet than being in Christian’s arms. “I know you’re strong,” Christian muses quietly. He kisses my hair, then to my great disappointment, releases me. Oh? Bending down I fish another item out of the open drawer. Several cuffs attached to a bar. I hold it up. “That,” says Christian, his eyes darkening, “is a spreader bar with ankle and wrist restraints.” “How does it work?” I ask, genuinely intrigued. My inner goddess pops her head out of her bunker. “You want me to show you?” he breathes in surprise, closing his eyes briefly. I blink at him. When he opens his eyes, they are blazing. blazing. Oh my. “Yes, I want a demonstration. I like being tied up,” I whisper as my inner goddess pole vaults from the bunker onto her chaise longue. “Oh, Ana,” he murmurs. He looks pained all of a sudden. “What?” “Not here.” “What do you mean?” “I want you in my bed, not in here. Come.” He grabs the bar and my hand, then leads me promptly out of the room. Why are we lea一ving? I glance behind me as we exit. “Why not in there?” Christian stops on the stairs and gazes up at me, his expression gra一ve. “Ana, you may be ready to go back in there, but I’m not. Last time we were in there, you left me. I keep telling you—when will you understand?” He frowns, releasing me so that he can gesticulate with his free hand. “My whole attitude has changed as a result. My whole outlook on life has radically shifted. I’ve told you this. What I ha一ven’t told you is—” He stops and runs his hand through his hair, searching for the correct words. “I’m like a recovering alcoholic, okay? That’s the only comparison I can draw. The compulsion has gone, but I don’t want to put temptation in my way. I don’t want to hurt you.” He looks so remorseful, and in that moment, a sharp nagging pain lances through me. What ha一ve I done to this man? Ha一ve I improved his life? He was happy before he met me, wasn’t he? “I can’t bear to hurt you because I love you,” he adds, gazing up at me, his expression one of absolute sincerity like a small boy telling a very simple truth. He’s completely guileless, and he takes my breath away. I adore him more than anything or anyone. I do love this man unconditionally. I launch myself at him so hard that he has to drop what he’s carrying to catch me as I push him up against the wall. Grabbing his face between my hands, I pull his lips to Grabbing his face between my hands, I pull his lips to mine. I can taste his surprise as I push my tongue into his mouth. I am standing on the step above him—we’re at the same level, and I feel euphorically empowered. Kissing him passionately, my fingers twisting into his hair, I want to touch him, everywhere, but restrain myself, knowing his fear. Regardless, my desire unfurls, hot and hea一vy, blossoming deep inside me. He groans and grabs my shoulders, pushing me away. “Do you want me to fuck you on the stairs?” he mutters, his breathing ragged. “Because right now, I will.” “Yes,” I murmur and I’m sure my dark gaze matches his. He glares at me, his eyes hooded and hea一vy. “No. I want you in my bed.” He scoops me up suddenly over his shoulder, making me squeal, loudly, and smacks me hard on my behind, so that I squeal again. As he heads down the stairs, he stoops to pick up the fallen spreader bar. Mrs. Jones is coming out of the utility room when we pass through the hall. She smiles at us, and I give her an pass through the hall. She smiles at us, and I give her an apologetic upside-down wa一ve. I don’t think Christian notices her. In the bedroom, he sets me down on my feet and drops the spreader on to the bed. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me,” I breathe. “I don’t think I’ll hurt you, either,” he says. He takes my head in his hands and kisses me, long and hard, igniting my already heated blood. “I want you so much,” he whispers against my mouth, panting. “Are you sure about this—after today?’ “Yes. I want you, too. I want to undress you.” I can’t wait to get my hands on him—my fingers are itching to touch him. His eyes widen and for a moment, he hesitates, perhaps to consider my request. “Okay,” he says cautiously. I reach for the second button on his shirt and hear him catch his breath. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to,” I whisper. “No,” he responds quickly. “Do. It’s fine. I’m good,” he mutters. I gently undo the button and my fingers glide down his shirt to the next. His eyes are large and luminous, his lips parted as his breathing shallows. He is so beautiful, even in his fear . . . because of his fear. I undo the third button and notice his soft hair poking through the large V of the shirt. “I want to kiss you there,” I murmur. He inhales sharply. “Kiss me?” “Yes,” I murmur. His gasps as I undo the next button and very slowly lean forward, making my intention clear. He’s holding his breath, but stands stock-still as I plant a gentle kiss among the soft, exposed curls. I undo the final button and lift my face to him. He’s gazing at me, and there’s a look of satisfaction, calm, and . . . wonder on his face. “It’s getting easier, isn’t it?” I whisper. He nods as I slowly push his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “What ha一ve you done to me, Ana?” he murmurs. “What ha一ve you done to me, Ana?” he murmurs. “Whatever it is, don’t stop.” And he gathers me in his arms, fisting both his hands in my hair and pulling my head right back so that he can ha一ve easy access to my throat. He runs his lips up to my jaw, nipping softly. I groan. Oh, I want this man. My fingers fumble at his waistband, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. “Oh, baby,” he breathes as he kisses me behind my ear. I feel his erection, firm and hard, straining against me. I want him—in my mouth. I step back abruptly and drop to my knees. “Whoa?” he gasps. I tug his pants and boxers sharply, and he springs free. Before he can stop me, I take him into my mouth, sucking hard, enjoying his shocked astonishment as his mouth drops open. He gazes down at me, watching my every move, eyes so dark and filled with carnal bliss. Oh my. I sheath my teeth and suck harder. He closes his eyes and surrenders to this blissful carnal pleasure is so arousing. I know what I do to him, and it’s hedonistic, liberating, and know what I do to him, and it’s hedonistic, liberating, and sexy as hell. The feeling is heady, I’m not just powerful— I’m omniscient. “Fuck,” he hisses and gently cradles my head, flexing his hips so he moves deeper inside my mouth. Oh yes, I want this and I swirl my tongue around him, pulling hard . . . over and over. “Ana.” He tries to step back. Oh no you don’t, Grey. I want you . I grab his hips firmly, doubling my efforts, and I can tell he’s close. “Please,” he pants. “I’m gonna come, Ana,” he groans. Good. My inner goddess’s head is thrown back in ecstasy, and he comes, loudly and wetly, into my mouth. He opens his bright gray eyes, gazing down at me, and I smile up at him, licking my lips. He grins back at me, a wicked, salacious grin. “Oh, so this is the game we’re playing, Miss Steele?” He bends, hooks his hands under my arms, and pulls me to my feet. Suddenly his mouth is on mine. He groans. “I can taste myself. You taste better,” he murmurs against my lips. He tugs my T-shirt off and throws it carelessly onto the floor, then picks me up and tosses me onto the bed. Grabbing the end of my sweats, he tugs abruptly so that they come off in one swift move. I’m naked underneath, sprawled across his bed. Waiting. Wanting. His eyes drink me in, and slowly he removes his remaining clothes, not taking his eyes off me. “You are one beautiful woman, Anastasia,” he murmurs appreciatively. Hmm . . . I tilt my head coquettishly to one side and beam at him. “You are one beautiful man, Christian, and you taste mighty fine.” He gives me a wicked grin and reaches for the spreader bar. Grabbing my left ankle, he quickly cuffs it, strapping the buckle tightly, but not too tight. He tests how much room I ha一ve by sliding his little finger between the cuff and my ankle. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine; he doesn’t need to see what he’s doing. Hmm . . . he’s done this before. this before. “We’ll ha一ve to see how you taste. If I recall, you’re a rare, exquisite delicacy, Miss Steele.” Oh. Grasping my other ankle, he quickly and efficiently cuffs that one as well, so that my feet are about two feet apart. “The good thing about this spreader is, it expands,” he murmurs. He clicks something on the bar, then pushes, so my legs spread further. Whoa, three feet apart. My mouth drops open, and I take a deep breath. Fuck, this is hot. I’m on fire, restless and needy. Christian licks his lower lip. “Oh, we’re going to ha一ve some fun with this, Ana.” Reaching down he grasps the bar and twists it so I flip on to my front. It takes me by surprise. “See what I can do to you?” he says darkly and twists it again abruptly, so I am once more on my back, gaping up at him, breathless. “These other cuffs are for your wrists. I’ll think about “These other cuffs are for your wrists. I’ll think about that. Depends if you beha一ve or not.” “When do I not beha一ve?” “I can think of a few infractions,” he says softly, running his fingers up the soles of my feet. It tickles, but the bar holds me in place, though I try to writhe away from his fingers. “Your Blackberry, for one.” I gasp. “What are you going to do?” “Oh, I never disclose my plans.” He smirks, his eyes alight with pure devilment. Holy cow. He’s so mind-bogglingly sexy, it takes my breath away. He crawls up the bed so that he’s kneeling between my legs, gloriously naked, and I’m helpless. “Hmm. You are so exposed, Miss Steele.” He runs the fingers of both his hands up the inside of each of my legs, slowly, surely, making small circular patterns. Never breaking eye contact with me. “It’s all about anticipation, Ana. What will I do to you?” His softly spoken words penetrate right to the deepest, darkest, part of me. I wriggle on the bed and moan. His fingers continue their slow assault up my legs, past the backs of my knees. Instinctively, I want to close my legs but I can’t. “Remember, if you don’t like something, just tell me to stop,” he murmurs. Bending over, he kisses my belly, soft, sucky kisses while his hands continue their slow tortuous journey north up my inner thighs, touching and teasing. “Oh please, Christian,” I plead. “Oh, Miss Steele. I’ve discovered you can be merciless in your amorous assaults upon me. I think I should return the fa一vor.” My fingers clutch the duvet as I surrender myself to him, his mouth gently heading south, his fingers north, to the vulnerable and exposed apex of my thighs. I groan as he eases his fingers inside me and buck my pelvis up to meet them. Christian moans in response. “You never cease to amaze me, Ana. You’re so wet,” he murmurs against the line where my pubic hair joins my he murmurs against the line where my pubic hair joins my belly. My body bows as his mouth finds me. Oh my. He begins a slow and sensual assault, his tongue swirling around and around while his fingers move inside me. Because I can’t close my legs, or move, it’s intense, really intense. My back arches as I try to absorb the sensations. “Oh, Christian,” I cry. “I know, baby,” he whispers, and to ease up on me, he blows softly on the most sensitive part of my body. “Arrgh! Please!” I beg. “Say my name,” he commands. “Christian,” I call, hardly recognizing my own voice— it’s so high-pitched and needy. “Again,” he breathes. “Christian, Christian, Christian Grey,” I call out loudly. “You are mine.” His voice is soft and deadly and with one last flick of his tongue, I fall—spectacularly— embracing my orgasm, and because my legs are so far embracing my orgasm, and because my legs are so far apart, it goes on and on and I am lost. Vaguely, I’m aware that Christian has flipped me on to my front. “We’re going to try this, baby. If you don’t like it, or it’s too uncomfortable, tell me, and we’ll stop.” What? I am too lost in the afterglow to form any sentient or coherent thoughts. I am sitting on Christian’s lap. How did that happen? “Lean down, baby,” he murmurs at my ear. “Head and chest on the bed.” In a daze I do as I’m told. He pulls both my hands backward and cuffs them to the bar, next to my ankles. Oh . . . My knees are drawn up, my ass in the air, utterly vulnerable, completely his. “Ana, you look so beautiful.” His voice is full of wonder, and I hear the rip of foil. He runs his fingers from the base of my spine down toward my sex and pauses a beat over my ass. “When you’re ready, I want this, too.” His finger is hovering over me. I gasp loudly as I feel myself tense under his gentle probing. “Not today, sweet Ana, but one day . . . I want you every way. I want to possess every inch of you. You’re mine.” I think about the butt plug, and everything tightens deep inside me. His words make me groan, and his fingers move down and around to more familiar territory. Moments later, he’s slamming into me. “Aagh! Gently,” I cry, and he stills. “You okay?” “Gently . . . let me get used to this.” He eases slowly out of me then eases gently back, filling me, stretching me, twice, thrice, and I am helpless. “Yes, good, I’ve got it now,” I murmur, relishing the feeling. He groans, and picks up his rhythm. Moving, moving . . . relentless . . . onward, inward, filling me . . . and it’s exquisite. There’s joy in my helplessness, joy in my surrender to him, and to know that he can lose himself in me the way he wants to. I can do this. He takes me to me the way he wants to. I can do this. He takes me to these dark places, places I didn’t know existed, and together we fill them with blinding light. Oh yes . . . blazing, blinding light. And I let go, glorying in what he does to me, finding my sweet, sweet release, as I come again, loudly, screaming his name. And he stills, pouring his heart and soul into me. “Ana, baby,” he cries and collapses beside me. His fingers deftly undo the straps, and he rubs my ankles then my wrists. When he’s finished and I’m finally free, he pulls me into his arms and I drift, exhausted. When I surface again, I am curled beside him and he’s gazing at me. I ha一ve no idea what the time is. “I could watch you sleep forever, Ana,” he murmurs and he kisses my forehead. I smile and shift languorously beside him. “I never want to let you go,” he says softly and wraps “I never want to let you go,” he says softly and wraps his arms around me. Hmm. “I never want to go. Never let me go,” I mutter sleepily, my eyelids refusing to open. “I need you,” he whispers, but his voice is a distant, ethereal part of my dreams. He needs me . . . needs me . . . and as I finally slip into the darkness, my last thoughts are of a small boy with gray eyes and dirty, messy, copper-colored hair smiling shyly at me. Hmm. Christian is nuzzling my neck as I slowly wake. “Morning, baby,” he whispers and nips at my earlobe. My eyes flutter open and close again quickly. Bright early morning light floods the room, and his hand is softly caressing my breast, gently teasing me. Moving down he grasps my hip as he lies behind me, holding me close. I stretch out beside him, relishing his touch, and feel his erection against my behind. Oh my. A Christian Grey wake-up call. “You’re pleased to see me,” I mumble sleepily, squirming suggestively against him. I feel his grin against my jaw. “I’m very pleased to see you,” he says as he skates his hand over my stomach and down to cup my sex and explore with his fingers. “There are definite advantages to waking up beside you, Miss Steele,” he teases and gently pulls me round so that I’m lying on my back. “Sleep well?” he asks as his fingers continue their “Sleep well?” he asks as his fingers continue their sensual torture. He’s smiling down at me—his dazzling, all- American-drop-dead-male-model-perfect-teeth smile. He takes my breath away. My hips begin to sway to the rhythm of the dance his fingers ha一ve begun. He kisses me chastely on the lips and then moves down my neck, nipping slowly, kissing, and sucking as he goes. I moan. He’s gentle and his touch is light and hea一venly. His intrepid fingers move down, and slowly he eases one inside me, hissing quietly in awe. “Oh, Ana,” he murmurs reverentially against my throat. “You’re always ready.” He moves his finger in time with his kisses as his lips journey leisurely across my cla一vicle and then down to my breast. He torments first one, then the other nipple with teeth and lips, but oh-so-gently, and they tighten and lengthen in sweet response. I groan. “Hmm,” he growls softly and raises his head to give me a blazing gray-eyed look. “I want you now.” He reaches over to the bedside table. He shifts on top of me, taking his weight on his elbows, and rubs his nose along mine while easing my legs apart with his. He kneels up and rips open the foil packet. “I can’t wait until Saturday,” he says, his eyes glowing with salacious delight. “Your party?” I pant. “No. I can stop using these fuckers.” “Aptly named.” I giggle. He smirks at me as he rolls on the condom. “Are you giggling, Miss Steele?” giggling, Miss Steele?” “No.” I try and fail to straighten my face. “Now is not the time for giggling.” He shakes his head in admonishment and his voice is low, stern, but his expression—holy cow—is glacial and volcanic at once. My breath catches in my throat. “I thought you liked it when I giggle,” I whisper hoarsely, gazing into the dark depths of his stormy eyes. “Not now. There’s a time and a place for giggling. This is neither. I need to stop you, and I think I know how,” he says ominously, and his body covers mine. “What would you like for breakfast, Ana?” “I’ll just ha一ve some granola. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.” I flush as I take my place at the breakfast bar beside Christian. The last time I set eyes on the very prim and proper Mrs. Jones, I was being unceremoniously dragged into the bedroom over Christian’s shoulder. “You look lovely,” Christian says softly. I’m wearing my gray pencil skirt and gray silk blouse again. “So do you.” I smile shyly at him. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt and jeans, and he looks cool and fresh and perfect, as always. “We should buy you some more skirts,” he says matter-of-factly. “In fact—I’d love to take you shopping.” Hmm—shopping. I hate shopping. But with Christian, maybe it won’t be so bad. I decide on distraction as the best form of defense. “I wonder what will happen at work today?” “I wonder what will happen at work today?” “They’ll ha一ve to replace the sleazeball.” Christian frowns, scowling as if he’s just stepped in something extraordinarily unpleasant. “I hope they take on a woman as my new boss.” “Why?” “Well, you’re less likely to object to me going away with her,” I tease him. His lips twitch and he starts on his omelet. “What’s so funny?” I ask. “You are. Eat your granola, all of it, if that’s all you’re ha一ving.” Bossy as ever. I purse my lips at him, but dig in. “So, the key goes here.” Christian points out the ignition beneath the gearshift. “Strange place,” I mutter. But I’m delighted with every little detail, practically bouncing like a small child in the comfortable leather seat. Christian has finally let me drive my car. He regards me coolly, though his eyes are alight with humor. “You’re quite excited about this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, amused. I nod, grinning like a fool. “Just smell that new car smell. This is even better than the Submissive Special . . . um, the A3,” I add quickly, blushing. Christian’s mouth twists. “Submissive Special, eh? You ha一ve such a way with words, Miss Steele.” He leans back with a faux look of disapproval, but he can’t fool me. I with a faux look of disapproval, but he can’t fool me. I know he’s enjoying himself. “Well, let’s go.” He wa一ves his long-fingered hand toward the entrance of the garage. I clap my hands, start the car, and the engine purrs to life. Putting the gearshift into drive, I ease my foot off the brake and the Saab moves smoothly forward. Taylor starts up the Audi behind us and once the garage barrier lifts, follows us out of Escala onto the street. “Can we ha一ve the radio on?” I ask as we wait at the first stop sign. “I want you to concentrate,” he says sharply. “Christian, please, I can drive with music on.” I roll my eyes. He scowls for a moment and then reaches for the radio. “You can play your iPod and mp3 discs as well as CDs on this,” he murmurs. The too-loud dulcet tones of The Police suddenly fill the car. Christian turns the music down. Hmm . . . “King of Pain.” “Your anthem,” I tease him, then instantly regret it when his mouth tightens in a thin line. Oh no. “I ha一ve this album, somewhere.” I continue hastily to distract him. Hmm . . . somewhere in the apartment I ha一ve spent very little time in. I wonder how Ethan is. I should try to call him today. I won’t ha一ve much to do at work. Anxiety blooms in my stomach. What will happen when I get to the office? Will everyone know about Jack? Will everyone know of Christian’s involvement? Will I still ha一ve a job? Sheesh, if I ha一ve no job, what will I do? Marry the gazillionaire, Ana! My subconscious has her snarky face on. I ignore her—rapacious bitch. “Hey, Miss Smart Mouth. Come back.” Christian drags me into the here and now as I pull up at the next stoplight. “You’re very distracted. Concentrate, Ana,” he scolds. “Accidents happen when you don’t concentrate.” Oh, for hea一ven’s sake—and suddenly I’m catapulted back in time to when Ray was teaching me to drive. I don’t need another father. A husband maybe, a kinky husband. Hmm. “I’m just thinking about work.” “Baby, you’ll be fine. Trust me.” Christian smiles. “Please don’t interfere—I want to do this on my own. Christian, please. It’s important to me,” I say as gently as I can. I don’t want to argue. His mouth sets once more into a hard stubborn line, and I think he’s going to berate me again. Oh no. “Let’s not argue, Christian. We’ve had such a wonderful morning. And last night was—” Words fail me, last night was—“Hea一ven.” He says nothing. I glance over at him and his eyes are closed. “Yes. Hea一ven,” he says softly. “I meant what I said.” “What?” “I don’t want to let you go.” “I don’t want to go.” He smiles and it’s this new, shy smile that dissolves everything in its path. Boy, it’s powerful. “Good,” he says simply, and he visibly relaxes. I drive into the parking lot half a block from SIP. “I’ll walk you to work. Taylor will take me from there,” Christian offers. I clamber out of the car, restricted by my pencil skirt while Christian climbs out gracefully, at ease with his body or giving the impression of someone at ease with his body. Hmm . . . someone who can’t bear to be touched can’t be that at ease. I frown at my errant thought. “Don’t forget we’re seeing Flynn at seven this evening,” he says as he holds his hand out to me. I press the remote door lock and take his hand. “I won’t forget. I’ll compile a list of questions for him.” “Questions? About me?” I nod. “I can answer any questions you ha一ve about me.” Christian looks affronted. I smile at him. “Yes, but I want the unbiased, expensive charlatan’s opinion.” He frowns and suddenly pulls me into his embrace, holding both my hands tightly behind my back. “Is this a good idea?” he says, his voice low and husky. I lean back to see the anxiety looming large and wide in his eyes. It tears at my soul. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.” I stare at him, blinking, wanting to caress the concern out of his face. I tug on one of my hands and he frees it. I touch his cheek tenderly—it’s smooth from sha一ving this morning. “What are you worried about?” I ask, my voice soft and soothing. “That you’ll go.” “Christian, how many times do I ha一ve to tell you—I’m not going anywhere. You’ve already told me the worst. I’m not lea一ving you.” “Then why ha一ven’t you answered me?” “Answered you?” I murmur disingenuously. “You know what I’m talking about, Ana.” I sigh. “I want to know that I’m enough for you, Christian. That’s all.” “And you won’t take my word for it?” he says exasperated, releasing me. “Christian, this has all been so quick. And by your own admission, you’re fifty shades of fucked-up. I can’t give you what you need,” I mutter. “It’s just not for me. But that makes me feel inadequate, especially seeing you with Leila. Who’s to say that one day you won’t meet someone who likes doing what you do? And who’s to say you won’t, you know . . . fall for her? Someone much better suited to your needs.” The thought of Christian with anyone else sickens me. I stare down at my knotted fingers. “I knew several women who like doing what I like to do. None of them appealed to me the way you do. I’ve never had an emotional connection with any of them. It’s only ever been you, Ana.” only ever been you, Ana.” “Because you never ga一ve them a chance. You’ve spent too long locked up in your fortress, Christian. Look, let’s discuss this later. I ha一ve to go to work. Maybe Dr. Flynn can offer us his insight.” This is all far too hea一vy a discussion for a parking lot at eight fifty in the morning, and Christian, for once, seems to agree. He nods but his eyes are wary. “Come,” he orders, holding out his hand. When I reach my desk, I find a note asking me to go straight to Elizabeth’s office. My heart leaps into my mouth. Oh, this is it. I’m going to get fired. “Anastasia.” Elizabeth smiles kindly, wa一ving me into a chair before her desk. I sit and gaze at her expectantly, hoping that she can’t hear my thumping heart. She smoothes her thick black hair and regards with me with somber, clear blue eyes. “I ha一ve some rather sad news.” Sad! Oh no. “I’ve called you in to inform you that Jack has left the company rather suddenly.” I flush. This isn’t sad for me. Should I tell her that I know? “His rather hasty departure has left a vacancy, and we’d like you to fill it for now, until we find a replacement.” What? I feel the blood rush from my head. Me? “But, I’ve only been here for a week or so.” “But, I’ve only been here for a week or so.” “Yes, Anastasia, I understand but Jack was always a champion of your abilities. He had high hopes for you.” I stop breathing. He had high hopes of getting me on my back, sure. “Here’s a detailed job description. Ha一ve a good look through it, and we can discuss it later today.” “But—” “Please, I know this is sudden, but you’ve already made contact with Jack’s key authors. Your chapter notes ha一ven’t gone unnoticed by the other commissioning editors. You ha一ve a shrewd mind, Anastasia. We all think you can do it.” “Okay.” This is unreal. “Look, think about it. In the meantime, you can take Jack’s office.” She stands, effectively dismissing me, and holds out her hand. I shake it in a complete daze. “I’m glad he’s gone,” she whispers and a haunted look crosses her face. Holy shit. What did he do to her? Back at my desk, I grab my Blackberry and call Christian.