Part II 15
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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.