Part II 19

“Thirty-four pounds? Not bad. Ana’s father though, heholds the record. A forty-three pounder.”“You’re kidding! He never said.”“Happy birthday, by the way.”“Thanks. So, where do you like to fish?”I zone out. This I do not need to know. But at thesame time I’m relieved. See, Christian? José’s not so bad.By the time José makes to lea一ve, both of them are muchmore relaxed with each other. Christian quickly changesinto T-shirt and jeans and barefoot he accompanies Joséand me to the foyer.“Thanks for letting me crash here,” José says toChristian as they shake hands.“Anytime,” Christian smiles.José hugs me quickly. “Stay safe, Ana.”“Sure. Great to see you. Next time we’ll ha一ve a properevening out.”“I’ll hold you to that.” He wa一ves at us from inside theelevator, and then he’s gone.“See, he’s not so bad.”“He still wants into your panties, Ana. But can’t say Iblame him.”“Christian, that’s not true!”“You ha一ve no idea, do you?” He smirks down at me.“He wants you. Big time. ”I frown. “Christian, he’s just a friend, a good friend.”And I’m suddenly aware that I sound like Christian whenhe’s talking about Mrs. Robinson. The thought isunsettling.Christian holds up his hands in a placating gesture.“I don’t want to fight,” he says softly.Oh! We’re not fighting . . . are we? “Me neither.”“You didn’t tell him we were getting married.”“No. I figured I ought to tell Mom and Ray first.” Shit.It’s the first time I’ve thought about this since I said yes.Jeez—what are my parents going to say?Jeez—what are my parents going to say?Christian nods. “Yes, you’re right. And I . . . um, Ishould ask your father.”I laugh. “Oh, Christian—this isn’t the eighteenthcentury.”Holy shit. What will Ray say? The thought of thatconversation fills me with horror.“It’s traditional.” Christian shrugs.“Let’s talk about that later. I want to give you yourother present.” My aim is to distract him. The thought ofmy present is burning a hole in my consciousness. I needto give it to him and see how he reacts.He gives me his shy smile, and my heart skips a beat.For as long as I live, I’ll never tire of looking at that smile.“You’re biting your lip,” he says and pulls on my chin.A thrill runs through my body as his fingers touch me.Without a word, and while I still ha一ve a modicum ofcourage, I take his hand and lead him back to thebedroom. I drop his hand, lea一ving him standing by the bed,and from under my side of the bed, I take out the twoand from under my side of the bed, I take out the tworemaining gift boxes.“Two?” he says, surprised.I take a deep breath. “I bought this before the, um . . .incident yesterday. I’m not sure about it now.” I quicklyhand him one of the parcels before I can change my mind.He gazes at me, puzzled, sensing my uncertainty.“Sure you want me to open it?”I nod, anxious.Christian tears off the packaging and gazes in surpriseat the box.“Charlie Tango,” I whisper.He grins. The box contains a small wooden helicopterwith a large, solar-powered rotor blade. He opens it up.“Solar powered,” he murmurs. “Wow.” And before Iknow it he’s sitting on the bed assembling it. It snapstogether quickly, and Christian holds it up in the palm ofhis hand. A blue wooden helicopter. He looks up at meand gives me his glorious, all-American-boy smile, thenheads to the window so that the little helicopter is bathedin sunlight and the rotor starts to spin.“Look at that,” he breathes, examining it closely.“What we can already do with this technology.” He holdsit at eye level, watching the blades spin. He’s fascinatedand fascinating to watch as he loses himself in thought,staring at the little helicopter. What is he thinking?“You like it?”“Ana, I love it. Thank you.” He grabs me and kissesme swiftly, then turns back to watch the rotor spin. “I’lladd it to the glider in my office,” he says distractedly,watching the blade spin. He moves his hand out of thesunlight, and the blade slows down and comes to a stop.I can’t help my face-splitting grin, and I want to hugmyself. He loves it. Of course, he’s all about alternativetechnologies. I’d forgotten that in my haste to buy it.Placing it on the chest of drawers, he turns to face me.“It’ll keep me company while we salvage CharlieTango.”“Is it salvageable?”“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll miss her, otherwise.”“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll miss her, otherwise.”Her? I am shocked at myself for the small pang ofjealousy I feel for an inanimate object. My subconscioussnorts with derisory laughter. I ignore her.“What’s in the other box?” he asks, his eyes wide withalmost childish excitement.Holy fuck. “I’m not sure if this present is for you orme.”“Really?” he asks, and I know I ha一ve piqued hisinterest. Nervously I hand him the second box. He shakesit gently and we both hear a hea一vy rattle. He glances up atme.“Why are you so nervous?” he asks, bemused. I shrug,embarrassed and excited as I flush. He raises an eyebrowat me.“You ha一ve me intrigued, Miss Steele,” he whispers,and his voice runs right through me, desire and anticipationspawning in my belly. “I ha一ve to say I’m enjoying yourreaction. What ha一ve you been up to?” He narrows hiseyes speculatively.eyes speculatively.I remain tight-lipped as I hold my breath.He removes the lid of the box and takes out a smallcard. The rest of the contents are wrapped in tissue. Heopens the card, and his eyes dart quickly to mine—widening with shock or surprise. I just don’t know.“Do rude things to you?” he murmurs. I nod andswallow. He cocks his head to one side warily, assessingmy reaction, and frowns. Then turns his attention back tothe box. He tears through the pale-blue tissue paper andfishes out an eye mask, some nipple clamps, a butt plug,his iPod, his silver-gray tie—and last but by no means least—the key to his playroom.He gazes at me, his expression dark, unreadable. Ohshit. Is this a bad move?“You want to play?” he asks softly.“Yes,” I breathe.“For my birthday?”“Yes.” Could my voice sound any smaller?A myriad of emotions cross his face, none of which Ican place, but he settles for anxious. Hmm . . . Not quitethe reaction I was expecting.“You’re sure?” he asks.“Not the whips and stuff.”“I understand that.”“Yes, then. I’m sure.”He shakes his head and gazes down at the contents ofthe box. “Sex mad and insatiable. Well, I think we can dosomething with this lot,” he murmurs almost to himself, thenputs the contents back in the box. When he glances at meagain, his expression has completely changed. Holy cow,his gray eyes burn, and his mouth lifts in a slow eroticsmile. He holds out his hand.“Now,” he says, and it’s not a request. My bellyclenches, tight and hard, deep, deep down.I put my hand in his.“Come,” he orders, and I follow him out of thebedroom, my heart in my mouth. Desire races slick andhot through my blood as my insides tighten with hungryanticipation. My inner goddess somersaults round heranticipation. My inner goddess somersaults round herchaise longue. Finally!Christian pauses outside the playroom.“You’re sure about this?” he asks, his gaze heated yetanxious.“Yes,” I murmur, smiling shyly at him.His eyes soften. “Anything you don’t want to do?”I’m derailed by his unexpected question, and my mindgoes into overdrive. One thought occurs. “I don’t wantyou to take photos of me.”He stills, and his expression hardens as he cocks hishead to one side and eyes me speculatively.Oh shit. I think he’s going to ask me why, butfortunately he doesn’t.“Okay,” he murmurs. His brow furrows as he unlocksthe door, then stands aside to usher me into the room. Ifeel his eyes on me as he follows me inside and closes thedoor.Placing the gift box on the chest of drawers, he takesout the iPod, switches it on, then wa一ves at the music centeron the wall so that the smoked glass doors glide silentlyon the wall so that the smoked glass doors glide silentlyopen. He presses some buttons, and after a moment, thesound of a subway train echoes round the room. He turnsit down so that the slow, hypnotic electronic beat thatfollows becomes ambient. A woman starts to sing, I don’tknow who she is but her voice is soft yet rasping and thebeat is measured, deliberate . . . erotic. Oh my. It’s musicto make love to.Christian turns to face me as I stand in the middle ofthe room, my heart pounding, my blood singing in myveins, pulsing—or so it feels—in time to the music’sseductive beat. He saunters casually over to me and tugson my chin so I’m no longer biting my lip.“What do you want to do, Anastasia?” he murmurs,planting a soft chaste kiss at the corner of my mouth, hisfingers still grasping my chin.“It’s your birthday. Whatever you want,” I whisper.He traces his thumb along my lower lip, his brow creasedonce more.“Are we in here because you think I want to be inhere?” His words are softly spoken, but he regards meintently.“No,” I whisper. “I want to be in here, too.”His gaze darkens, growing bolder as he assesses myresponse. After what seems an eternity, he speaks.“Oh, there are so many possibilities, Miss Steele.” Hisvoice is low, excited. “But let’s start with getting younaked.” He pulls the sash of my robe so that it falls open,revealing my silk nightdress, then steps back and sitsnonchalantly down on the arm of the chesterfield couch.nonchalantly down on the arm of the chesterfield couch.“Take your clothes off. Slowly.” He gives me asensual, challenging look.I swallow compulsively, pressing my thighs together.I’m already damp between my legs. My inner goddess isstripped naked and standing in line, ready and waiting andbegging me to play catch-up. I pull the robe away from myshoulders, my eyes never lea一ving his, and shrug, letting itfall billowing to the floor. His mesmerizing gray eyes heat,and he runs his index finger over his lips as he gazes at me.Slipping the spaghetti straps of my gown off myshoulders, I gaze at him for a beat, then release them. Mynightdress skims and ripples softly down my body, poolingat my feet. I am naked and practically panting and oh-soready.Christian pauses for a moment, and I marvel at thefrankly carnal appreciation in his expression. Standing up,he makes his way over to the chest and picks up his silvergraytie—my fa一vorite tie. He pulls it through his fingers ashe turns and strolls casually toward me, a smile playing onhis lips. When he stands in front of me, I expect him to askfor my hands, but he doesn’t.“I think you’re underdressed, Miss Steele,” hemurmurs. He places the tie around my neck, and slowlybut dexterously ties it in what I assume is a fine Windsorknot. As he tightens the knot, his fingers brush the base ofmy throat and electricity shoots through me, making megasp. He lea一ves the wide end of the tie long, long enoughso the tip skims my pubic hair.“You look mighty fine now, Miss Steele,” he says and“You look mighty fine now, Miss Steele,” he says andbends to kiss me gently on my lips. It’s a swift kiss, and Iwant more, desire spiraling wantonly through my body.“What shall we do with you now?” he says, and thenpicking up the tie, he yanks sharply so that I’m forcedforward into his arms. His hands dive into my hair and pullmy head back, and he really kisses me, hard, his tongueunforgiving and merciless. One of his hands roams freelydown my back to cup my behind. When he pulls away,he’s panting too and gazing down at me, his eyes moltengray; and I’m left wanting, gasping for breath, my witsthoroughly scattered. I’m sure my lips will be swollen afterhis sensual assault.“Turn around,” he orders gently and I obey. Pulling myhair free of the tie, he quickly braids and secures it. Hetugs the braid so my head tilts up.“You ha一ve beautiful hair, Anastasia,” he murmurs andkisses my throat, sending shivers running up and down myspine. “You just ha一ve to say stop. You know that, don’tyou?” he whispers against my throat.I nod, my eyes closed, and relish his lips on me. Heturns me round once more and picks up the end of the tie.“Come,” he says, tugging gently, leading me over to thechest where the rest of the box’s contents are on display.“Anastasia, these objects.” He holds up the butt plug.“This is a size too big. As an anal virgin, you don’t want tostart with this. We want to start with this.” He holds up hispinky finger, and I gasp, shocked. Fingers . . . there? Hesmirks at me, and the unpleasant thought of the anal fistingmentioned in the contract comes to mind.mentioned in the contract comes to mind.“Just finger—singular,” he says softly with that uncannyability he has to read my mind. My eyes dart to his. Howdoes he do that?“These clamps are vicious.” He prods the nippleclamps. “We’ll use these.” He places a different pair ofclamps on the chest. They look like giant black hairpins,but with little jet jewels hanging down. “They’readjustable,” Christian murmurs, his voice laced with gentleconcern.I blink up at him, wide-eyed. Christian, my sexualmentor. He knows so much more about all this than I do.I’ll never catch up. I frown. He knows more than meabout most things . . . except cooking.“Clear?” he asks.“Yes,” I whisper, my mouth dry. “Are you going to tellme what you intend to do?”“No. I’m making this up as I go along. This isn’t ascene, Ana.”“How should I beha一ve?”His brow creases. “However you want to.”Oh!“Were you expecting my alter ego, Anastasia?” heasks, his tone vaguely mocking and bemused at once. Iblink at him.“Well, yes. I like him,” I murmur. He smiles his privatesmile and reaches up to run his thumb down my cheek.“Do you now,” he breathes and runs his thumb acrossmy lower lip. “I’m your lover, Anastasia, not your Dom. Ilove to hear your laugh and your girlish giggle. I like youlove to hear your laugh and your girlish giggle. I like yourelaxed and happy, like you are in José’s photos. That’sthe girl that fell into my office. That’s the girl I fell in lovewith.”Holy cow. My mouth drops open, and a welcomewarmth blooms in my heart. It’s joy—pure joy.“But ha一ving said all that, I also like to do rude things toyou, Miss Steele; and my alter ego knows a trick or two.So, do as you’re told and turn around.” His eyes glintwickedly, and the joy moves sharply south, seizing metightly and gripping every sinew below my waist. I do asI’m told. Behind me, he opens one of the drawers and amoment later he’s in front of me again.“Come,” he orders and tugs on the tie, leading me tothe table. As we walk past the couch, I notice for the firsttime that all the canes ha一ve vanished. It distracts me. Werethey there yesterday when I came in? I don’t remember.Did Christian move them? Mrs. Jones? Christian interruptsmy train of thought.“I want you to kneel up on this,” he says when we’reat the table.Oh, okay. What does he ha一ve in mind? My innergoddess can’t wait to find out—she’s already scissorkickedonto the table and is watching him with adoration.He gently lifts me onto the table, and I fold my legsbeneath me and kneel in front of him, surprised by my owngrace. Now we are eye to eye. He runs his hands downmy thighs, grasps my knees, and pulls my legs apart andstands directly in front of me. He looks very serious, hiseyes darker, hooded . . . lustful.eyes darker, hooded . . . lustful.“Arms behind your back. I’m going to cuff you.”He produces some leather cuffs from his back pocketand reaches around me. This is it. Where’s he going totake me this time?His proximity is intoxicating. This man is going to bemy husband. Can one lust after one’s husband like this? Idon’t remember reading about that anywhere. I can’t resisthim, and I run my parted lips along his jaw, feeling thestubble, a heady combination of prickly and soft, under mytongue. He stills and closes his eyes. His breathing faltersand he pulls back.“Stop. Or this will be over far quicker than either of uswants,” he warns. For a moment, I think he might be angrybut then he smiles, and his heated eyes are alight withamusement.“You’re irresistible,” I pout.“Am I now?” he says dryly.I nod.“Well—don’t distract me, or I’ll gag you.”“I like distracting you,” I whisper, looking mulishly athim, and he cocks his eyebrow at me.“Or spank you.”Oh! I try to hide my smile. There was a time, not verylong ago, when I would ha一ve been subdued by this threat.I would never ha一ve had the nerve to kiss him, unbidden,while he was in this room. I realize now, I’m no longerintimidated by him. It’s a revelation. I grin mischievously,and he smirks at me.“Beha一ve,” he growls and stands back, gazing at meand slaps the leather cuffs across his palm. And thewarning is there, implicit in his actions. I try for contrite,and I think I succeed. He approaches me again.“That’s better,” he breathes and leans behind me oncemore with the cuffs. I resist touching him but inhale hisglorious Christian scent, still fresh from last night’s shower.Hmm . . . I should bottle this.I expect him to cuff my wrists, but he attaches eachcuff above my elbows. It makes me arch my back, pushingmy breasts forward, though my elbows are by no meanstogether. When he’s finished, he stands back to admireme.“Feel okay?” he asks. It’s not the most comfortable ofpositions, but I’m so wired with anticipation to see wherehe’s going with this that I nod, weak with wanting.“Good.” He pulls the mask from his back pocket.“I think you’ve seen enough now,” he murmurs. Heslides the mask over my head, covering my eyes. Mybreathing spikes. Wow. Why is not being able to see soerotic? I am here, trussed up and kneeling on a table,waiting—sweet anticipation hot and hea一vy deep in mybelly. I can still hear, though, and the melodic steady beatof the track continues. It resonates through my body. Ihadn’t noticed before. He must ha一ve it on repeat.Christian steps away. What is he doing? He movesback to the chest and opens a drawer, then closes it again.A moment later he’s back, and I sense him in front of me.There’s a pungent, rich, musky scent in the air. It’sdelicious, almost mouth-watering.“I don’t want to ruin my fa一vorite tie,” he murmurs. Itslowly unra一vels as he undoes it.I inhale sharply as the tail of the tie tra一vels up my body,tickling me in its wake. Ruin his tie? I listen acutely todetermine what he’s going to do. He’s rubbing his handstogether. His knuckles suddenly brush over my cheek,down to my jaw following my jawline.My body leaps to attention as his touch sends adelicious shiver through me. His hand flexes over my neck,and it’s slick with sweet-smelling oil so his hand glidessmoothly down my throat, across my cla一vicle, and up tomy shoulder, his fingers kneading gently as they go. Oh,I’m getting a massage. Not what I expected.He places his other hand on my other shoulder andbegins another slow teasing journey across my cla一vicle. Igroan softly as he works his way down toward myincreasingly aching breasts, aching for his touch. It’stantalizing. I arch my body further into his deft touch, buthis hands glide to my sides, slow, measured, in time to thebeat of the music, and studiously a一void my breasts. Igroan, but I don’t know if it’s from pleasure or frustration.“You are so beautiful, Ana,” he murmurs, his voice lowand husky, his mouth next to my ear. His nose followsalong my jaw as he continues to massage me—beneath mybreasts, across my belly, down . . . He kisses me fleetinglyon my lips, then he runs his nose down my neck, mythroat. Holy cow, I’m on fire . . . his nearness, his hands,his words.“And soon you’ll be my wife to ha一ve and to hold,” hewhispers.Oh my.“To love and to cherish.”Jeez.“With my body, I will worship you.”I tip my head back and moan. His fingers run throughmy pubic hair, over my sex, and he rubs the palm of hishand against my clitoris.“Mrs. Grey,” he whispers as his palm works againstme.I groan.“Yes,” he breathes as his palm continues to tease me.“Open your mouth.”My mouth is already open from panting. I open wider,and he slips a large cool metal object between my lips.Shaped like an oversized baby’s pacifier, it has smallgrooves or carvings, and what feels like a chain at the end.It’s big.“Suck,” he commands softly. “I’m going to put thisinside you.”Inside me? Inside me where? My heart lurches intomy mouth.“Suck,” he repeats and he stops palming me.No. Don’t stop, I want to shout, but my mouth is full.His oiled hands glide back up my body and finally cup myneglected breasts.“Don’t stop sucking.”Gently he rolls my nipples between his thumbs andGently he rolls my nipples between his thumbs andforefingers, and they harden and lengthen under his experttouch, sending synaptic wa一ves of pleasure all the way tomy groin.“You ha一ve such beautiful breasts, Ana,” he murmursand my nipples harden further in response. He murmurs hisapproval and I moan. His lips move down from my necktoward one breast, trailing soft bites and sucks over andover, down toward my nipple, and suddenly I feel thepinch of the clamp.“Ah!” I garble my groan through the device in mymouth. Holy cow, the feeling is exquisite, raw, painful,pleasurable . . . oh—the pinch. Gently, he la一ves therestrained nipple with his tongue, and as he does so, heapplies the other. The bite of the second clamp is equallyharsh . . . but just as good. I groan loudly.“Feel it,” he whispers.Oh, I do. I do. I do.“Give me this.” He tugs gently on the ornate metalpacifier in my mouth, and I release it. His hands once moretrail down my body, toward my sex. He’s re-oiled hishands. They glide around to my backside.I gasp. What’s he going to do? I tense up on my kneesas he runs his fingers between my buttocks.“Hush, easy,” he breathes close to my ear and kissesmy neck as his fingers stroke and tease me.What’s he going to do? His other hand glides downmy belly to my sex, palming me once more. He eases hisfingers inside me, and I moan loudly, appreciatively.“I’m going to put this inside you,” he murmurs. “Not“I’m going to put this inside you,” he murmurs. “Nothere.” His fingers trail between my buttocks, spreading oil.“But here.” He moves his fingers round and round, in andout, hitting the front wall of my vagina. I moan and myrestrained nipples swell.“Ah.”“Hush now.” Christian removes his fingers and slidesthe object into me. He cups my face and kisses me, hismouth invading mine, and I hear a very faint click. Instantlythe plug inside me starts to vibrate—down there! I gasp.The feeling is extraordinary—beyond anything I’ve feltbefore.“Ah!”“Easy,” Christian calms me, stifling my gasps with hismouth. His hands move down and tug very gently on theclamps. I cry out loudly.“Christian, please!”“Hush, baby. Hang in there.”This is too much—all this overstimulation, everywhere.My body starts to climb, and on my knees, I’m unable tocontrol the buildup. Oh my . . . Will I be able to handlethis?“Good girl,” he soothes.“Christian,” I pant, sounding desperate even to myown ears.“Hush, feel it, Ana. Don’t be afraid.” His hands arenow on my waist, holding me, but I can’t concentrate onhis hands, what’s inside me, and the clamps, too. My bodyis building, building to an explosion—with the relentlessvibrations and the sweet, sweet torture of my nipples.vibrations and the sweet, sweet torture of my nipples.Holy hell. It will be too intense. His hands move from myhips, down and around, slick and oiled, touching, feeling,kneading my skin—kneading my behind.“So beautiful,” he murmurs and suddenly he gentlypushes an anointed finger inside me . . . there! Into mybackside. Fuck. It feels alien, full, forbidden . . . butoh . . . so . . . good. And he moves slowly, easing in andout, while his teeth graze my upturned chin.“So beautiful, Ana.”I’m suspended high—high above a wide, wide ra一vine,and I’m soaring then falling giddily at the same time,plunging to the Earth. I can hold on no more, and I screamas my body convulses and climaxes at the overwhelmingfullness. As my body explodes, I’m nothing but sensation—everywhere. Christian releases first one and then theother clamp, causing my nipples to sing with a surge ofsweet, sweet painful feeling, but it’s oh-so-good andcausing my orgasm, this orgasm, to go on and on. Hisfinger stays where it is, gently easing in and out.“Argh!” I cry out, and Christian wraps himself aroundme, holding me, as my body continues to pulse mercilesslyinside.“No!” I shout again, pleading, and this time he tugs thevibrator out of me, and his finger, too, as my bodycontinues to convulse.He unstraps one of the cuffs so that my arms fallforward. My head lolls on his shoulder, and I am lost, lostto all this overwhelming sensation. I’m all shattered breath,exhausted desire and sweet, welcome oblivion.exhausted desire and sweet, welcome oblivion.Vaguely, I’m aware that Christian lifts me, carries meover to the bed, and lays me down on the cool satinsheets. After a moment, his hands, still oiled, gently rub thebacks of my thighs, my knees, my calves, and myshoulders. I feel the bed dip as he stretches out beside me.He pulls the mask off, but I don’t ha一ve the energy toopen my eyes. Finding my braid he undoes the hair tie andleans forward, kissing me softly on my lips. Only myerratic breathing disturbs the silence in the room andsteadies as I float gently back to Earth. The music hasstopped.“So beautiful,” he murmurs.When I persuade one eye to open, he’s gazing downat me, smiling softly.“Hi,” he says. I manage a grunt in response, and hissmile broadens. “Rude enough for you?”I nod and give him a reluctant grin. Jeez, any ruder andI’d ha一ve to spank the pair of us.“I think you’re trying to kill me,” I mutter.“Death by orgasm.” He smirks. “There are worseways to go,” he says but then frowns ever so slightly as anunpleasant thought crosses his mind. It distresses me. Ireach up and caress his face.“You can kill me like this anytime,” I whisper. I noticethat he’s gloriously naked and ready for action. When hetakes my hand and kisses my knuckles, I lean up andcapture his face between my hands and pull his mouth tomine. He kisses me briefly, then stops.“This is what I want to do,” he murmurs and reaches“This is what I want to do,” he murmurs and reachesbeneath his pillow for the music center remote. He pressesa button and the soft strains of a guitar echo round thewalls.“I want to make love to you,” he says gazing down atme, his gray eyes burning with bright, loving sincerity.Softly in background, a familiar voice starts to sing “TheFirst Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” And his lips find mine.As I tighten around him, finding my release once more,Christian unra一vels in my arms, his head thrown back as hecalls out my name. He clasps me tightly to his chest as wesit nose to nose in the middle of his vast bed, me astridehim. And in this moment—this moment of joy with thisman to this music—the intensity of my experience thismorning in here with him and all that has occurred duringthe past week overwhelms me anew, not just physicallybut emotionally. I am completely overcome with all thesefeelings. I am so deeply, deeply in love with him. For thefirst time I’m offered a glimmer of understanding as to howhe feels about my safety.Recalling his close call with Charlie Tango yesterday, Ishudder at the thought and tears pool in my eyes. Ifanything ever happened to him—I love him so. My tearsrun unchecked down my cheeks. So many sides ofChristian—his sweet, gentle persona and his rugged, Ican-do-what-I-fucking-well-like-to-you-and-you’ll-comelike-a-train Dominant side—his fifty shades—all of him.All spectacular. All mine. And I’m aware we don’t knoweach other well, and we ha一ve a mountain of issues toovercome, but I know for each other, we will—and we’llha一ve a lifetime to do it.“Hey,” he breathes, clasping my head in his hands,gazing down at me. He’s still inside me. “Why are youcrying?” His voice is filled with concern.“Because I love you so much,” I whisper. He halfcloseshis eyes as if drugged, absorbing my words. Whenhe opens them again, they blaze with his love.“And I you, Ana. You make me . . . whole.” He kissesme gently as Roberta Flack finishes her song.We ha一ve talked and talked and talked, sitting uprighttogether on the bed in the playroom, me in his lap, our legscurled around each other. The red satin sheet is drapedaround us like a royal cocoon, and I ha一ve no idea howmuch time has passed. Christian is laughing at myimpersonation of Katherine during the photo shoot at theHeathman.“To think it could ha一ve been her who came tointerview me. Thank the Lord for the common cold,” hemurmurs and kisses my nose.“I believe she had flu, Christian,” I scold him, trailingmy fingers idly through his chest hair and marveling thathe’s tolerating it so well. “All the canes ha一ve gone,” Imurmur, recalling my distraction from earlier. He tucks myhair behind my ear for the umpteenth time.“I didn’t think you’d ever get past that hard limit.”“No, I don’t think I will,” I whisper wide-eyed at him,then find myself glancing over at the whips, paddles andfloggers lining the opposite wall. He follows my gaze.“You want me to get rid of them, too?” He’s amusedbut sincere.“Not the crop . . . the brown one. Or that suedeflogger, you know.” I flush.He smiles down at me.“Okay, the crop and the flogger. Why, Miss Steele,you’re full of surprises.”“As are you, Mr. Grey. It’s one of the things I loveabout you.” I kiss him gently at the corner of his mouth.“What else do you love about me?” he asks and hiseyes widen.I know it’s a huge deal for him to ask this question. Ithumbles me and I blink at him. I love everything about him—even his fifty shades. I know that life with Christian willnever be boring.“This.” I stroke my index finger across his lips. “I lovethis, and what comes out of it, and what you do to me withit. And what’s in here.” I caress his temple. “You’re sosmart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so manythings. But most of all, I love what’s in here.” I press mypalm gently against his chest, feeling his steady, beatingheart. “You are the most compassionate man I’ve met.What you do. How you work. It’s awe-inspiring,” Iwhisper.“Awe-inspiring?” He’s puzzled, but there’s a trace of“Awe-inspiring?” He’s puzzled, but there’s a trace ofhumor on his face. Then his face transforms, and his shysmile appears as if he’s embarrassed, and I want to launchmyself at him. So I do.I am dozing, wrapped in satin and Grey. Christian nuzzlesme awake.“Hungry?” he whispers“Hmm, famished.”“Me, too.”I lean up to gaze down at him sprawled on the bed.“It’s your birthday, Mr. Grey. I’ll cook you something.What would you like?”“Surprise me.” He runs his hand down my back,stroking me gently. “I should check my Blackberry for allthe messages I missed yesterday.” He sighs and starts tosit up, and I know this special time is over . . . for now.“Let’s shower,” he says.Who am I to turn down the birthday boy?Christian is in his study on the phone. Taylor is with him,looking serious but casual in jeans and a tight, black Tshirt.I busy myself in the kitchen fixing lunch. I ha一ve foundsalmon steaks in the fridge, and I’m poaching them withlemon, making a salad, and boiling some baby potatoes. Ifeel extraordinarily relaxed and happy, on top of the world—literally. Turning toward the large window, I stare out atthe glorious blue sky. All that talking . . . all thatthe glorious blue sky. All that talking . . . all thatsexing . . . hmm. A girl could get used to that.Taylor emerges from the study, interrupting my reverie.I turn down my iPod and take out an ear bud.“Hi, Taylor.”“Ana.” He nods.“Your daughter okay?”“Yes, thanks. My ex-wife thought she hadappendicitis, but she was overreacting as usual.” Taylorrolls his eyes, surprising me. “Sophie’s fine, though she hasa nasty stomach bug.”“I’m sorry.”He smiles.“Has Charlie Tango been located?”“Yes. The recovery team is on its way. She should beback at Boeing Field late tonight.”“Oh, good.”He gives me a tight smile. “Will that be all, ma’am?”“Yes, yes of course.” I flush . . . will I ever get used toTaylor calling me ma’am? It makes me feel so old, at leastthirty.He nods and heads out of the great room. Christian isstill on the phone. I am waiting for the potatoes to boil. Itgives me an idea. Fetching my purse, I fish out myBlackberry. There’s a text from Kate.*C U this evening. Looking forward to a loooooongchat*I text back.I text back.*Same here*It will be good to talk to Kate.Calling up the e-mail program, I type a quick messageto Christian.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: LunchDate: June 18, 2011 13:12To: Christian GreyDear Mr. GreyI am e-mailing to inform you that your lunch is nearly ready.And that I had some mind-blowing, kinky fuckery earlier today.Birthday kinky fuckery is to be recommended.And another thing—I love you.A x(Your fiancée)I listen carefully for a reaction, but he’s still on the phone. Ishrug. Perhaps he’s just too busy. My Blackberryvibrates.From: Christian GreySubject: Kinky FuckeryDate: June 18, 2011 13:15To: Anastasia SteeleWhat aspect was most mind-blowing?I’m taking notes.Christian GreyFamished and Wasting Away After the Mornings Exertions CEO,Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.PS: I love your signaturePPS: What happened to the art of conversation?From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Famished?Date: June 18, 2011 13:18To: Christian GreyDear Mr. GreyMay I draw your attention to the first line of my previous e-mailinforming you that your lunch is indeed almost ready . . . so noneof this famished and wasting away nonsense. With regard to themind-blowing aspects of the kinky fuckery . . . frankly—all of it.I’d be interested in reading your notes. And I like my bracketedsignature, too.A x(Your fiancée)PS: Since when ha一ve you been so loquacious? And you’re on thephone!I press send and look up, and he’s standing in front of me,smirking. Before I can say anything, he bounds around thekitchen island, sweeps me up in his arms, and kisses mesoundly.“That is all, Miss Steele,” he says, releasing me, and hesaunters—in his jeans, bare feet and untucked white shirt—back to his office, lea一ving me breathless.I’ve made a watercress, cilantro, and sour cream dip toaccompany the salmon, and I’ve set the breakfast bar. Ihate interrupting him while he’s working, but now I standin the doorway of his office. He’s still on the phone, allthoroughly fucked hair and bright gray eyes—a visuallynourishing feast. He looks up when he sees me anddoesn’t take his eyes off me. He frowns slightly, and Idon’t know if it’s at me or because of his conversation.“Just let them in and lea一ve them alone. Do youunderstand, Mia?” he hisses and rolls his eyes. “Good.”I mime eating, and he grins at me and nods.“I’ll see you later.” He hangs up. “One more call?” heasks.“Sure.”“Sure.”“That dress is very short,” he adds.“You like it?” I give him a quick twirl. It’s one ofCaroline Acton’s purchases. A soft turquoise sundress,probably more suitable for the beach, but it’s such a lovelyday on so many levels. He frowns and my face falls.“You look fantastic in it, Ana. I just don’t want anyoneelse to see you like that.”“Oh!” I scowl at him. “We’re at home, Christian. Noone but the staff.”His mouth twists, and either he’s trying to hide hisamusement or he really doesn’t think that’s funny. Buteventually he nods, reassured. I shake my head at him—he’s actually being serious? I head back to the kitchen.Five minutes later, he’s back in front of me, holding thephone.“I ha一ve Ray for you,” he murmurs, his eyes wary.All the air lea一ves my body at once. I take the phoneand cover the mouthpiece.“You told him!” I hiss. Christian nods, and his eyeswiden at my obvious look of distress.Shit! I take a deep breath. “Hi, Dad.”“Christian has just asked me if he can marry you,” Raysays.Oh Shit. The silence stretches between us as Idesperately think what to say. Ray as usual stays silent,giving me no clue as to his reaction to this news.“What did you say?” I crack first.“I said I wanted to talk to you. It’s kind of sudden,don’t you think, Annie? You’ve not known him long. Idon’t you think, Annie? You’ve not known him long. Imean, he’s a nice guy, knows his fishing . . . but so soon?”His voice is calm and measured.“Yes. It is sudden . . . hang on.” Hastily, I lea一ve thekitchen area away from Christian’s anxious gaze and headtoward the great window. The doors to the balcony areopen, and I step out into the sunshine. I can’t quite walk tothe edge. It’s just too far up.“I know it’s sudden and all—but . . . well, I love him.He loves me. He wants to marry me, and there’ll never beanyone else for me.” I flush thinking this is probably themost intimate conversation I ha一ve ever had with mystepfather.Ray is silent on the other end of the phone.“Ha一ve you told your mother?”“No.”“Annie . . . I know he’s all kinds of rich and eligible,but marriage? It’s such a big step. You’re sure?”“He’s my happily ever after,” I whisper.“Whoa.” Ray says after a moment, his tone softer.“He’s everything.”“Annie, Annie, Annie. You’re such a headstrong youngwoman. I hope to God you know what you’re doing.Hand me back to him, will you?”“Sure, Dad, and will you give me away at thewedding?” I ask quietly.“Oh, honey.” His voice cracks, and he’s quiet for afew moments, the emotion in his voice bringing tears to myeyes. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he sayseventually.eventually.Oh, Ray. I love you so much . . . I swallow, to keepfrom crying. “Thank you, Dad. I’ll hand you back toChristian. Be gentle with him. I love him,” I whisper.I think Ray is smiling on the other end of the line, butit’s hard to tell. It’s always hard to tell with Ray.“Sure thing, Annie. And come and visit this old manand bring that Christian with you.”I march back into the room—pissed at Christian fornot warning me—and hand him the phone, my expressionletting him know just how pissed I am. He’s amused as hetakes the phone and heads back into his study.Two minutes later, he reappears.“I ha一ve your stepfather’s rather begrudging blessing,”he says proudly, so proudly, in fact, that it makes megiggle, and he grins at me. He’s acting like he’s justnegotiated a major new merger or acquisition, which Isuppose on one level, he has.“Damn, you’re a good cook, woman.” Christian swallowshis last mouthful and raises his glass of white wine to me. Iblossom under his praise, and it occurs to me I’ll only getto cook for him on weekends. I frown. I enjoy cooking.Perhaps I should ha一ve made him a cake for his birthday. Icheck my watch. I still ha一ve time.“Ana?” He interrupts my thoughts. “Why did you askme not to take your photo?” His question startles me allthe more because his voice is deceptively soft.Oh . . . shit. The photos. I stare down at my emptyplate, twisting my fingers in my lap. What can I say? I’dpromised myself not to mention that I’d found his versionof Readers’ Wives.“Ana,” he snaps. “What is it?” He makes me jump,and his voice commands me to look at him. When did Ithink he didn’t intimidate me?“I found your photos,” I whisper.His eyes widen in shock. “You’ve been in the safe?”he asks, incredulous.“Safe? No. I didn’t know you had a safe.”He frowns. “I don’t understand.”“In your closet. The box. I was looking for your tie,and the box was under your jeans . . . the ones younormally wear in the playroom. Except today.” I flush.He gapes at me, appalled, and nervously runs his handthrough his hair as he processes this information. He rubshis chin, lost in thought, but he can’t mask the perplexedannoyance etched on his face. Abruptly he shakes hishead, exasperated—but amused, too—and a faint smile ofadmiration kisses the corner of his mouth. He steeples hishands in front of him and focuses on me once more.“It’s not what you think. I’d forgotten all about them.That box has been moved. Those photographs belong inmy safe.”“Who moved them?” I whisper.He swallows. “There’s only one person who couldha一ve done that.”“Oh. Who? And what do you mean, ‘it’s not what Ithink’?”He sighs and tilts his head to one side, and I think he’sembarrassed. So he should be! My subconscious snarls.“This is going to sound cold, but—they’re an insurancepolicy,” he whispers steeling himself for my response.“Insurance policy?”“Against exposure.”The penny drops and rattles uncomfortably round andround in my empty head.“Oh,” I murmur, because I can’t think of what else tosay. I close my eyes. This is it. This is Fifty Shades ofFucked-Up, right here, right now. “Yes. You’re right,” Imutter. “That does sound cold.” I stand to clear ourdishes. I don’t want to know any more.“Ana.”“Do they know? The girls . . . the subs?”He frowns. “Of course they know.”Oh, well, that’s something. He reaches out, grabbingme and pulling me to him.“Those photos are supposed to be in the safe. They’renot for recreational use.” He stops. “Maybe they werewhen they were taken originally. But—” He stops,imploring me. “They don’t mean anything.”“Who put them in your closet?”“It could only ha一ve been Leila.”“She knows your safe combination?”He shrugs. “It wouldn’t surprise me. It’s a very longcombination, and I use it so rarely. It’s the one number Iha一ve written down and ha一ven’t changed.” He shakes hishead. “I wonder what else she knows and if she’s takenanything else out of there.” He frowns, then turns hisattention back to me. “Look, I’ll destroy the photos. Now,if you like.”“They’re your photos, Christian. Do with them as youwish,” I mutter.“Don’t be like that,” he says, taking my head in hishands and holding my gaze to his. “I don’t want that life. Iwant our life, together.”Holy cow. How does he know that beneath my horrorabout these photos is the fact that I’m paranoid?“Ana, I thought we exorcised all those ghosts thismorning. I feel that way. Don’t you?”I blink at him, recalling our very, very pleasurable andromantic and downright dirty morning in his playroom.“Yes,” I smile. “Yes, I feel like that, too.”“Good.” He leans forward and kisses me, folding me inhis arms. “I’ll shred them,” he murmurs. “And then I ha一veto go to work. I’m sorry, baby, but I ha一ve a mountain ofbusiness to get through this afternoon.”“It’s cool. I ha一ve to call my mother.” I grimace. “ThenI want to do some shopping and bake you a cake.”He grins and his eyes light up like a small boy’s.“A cake?”I nod.“A chocolate cake?”“You want a chocolate cake?” His grin is infectious.He nods.“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Grey.”“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Grey.”He kisses me once more.Carla is stunned into silence.“Mom, say something.”“You’re not pregnant, are you, Ana?” she whispers inhorror.“No, no, no, nothing like that.” Disappointment slicesthrough my heart, and I’m saddened that she would thinkthat of me. But then I remember with an ever-sinkingfeeling that she was pregnant with me when she marriedmy father.“I’m sorry, darling. This is just so sudden. I mean,Christian is quite a catch, but you’re so young, and youshould see a little of the world.”“Mom, can’t you just be happy for me? I love him.”“Darling, I just need to get used to the idea. It’s ashock. I could tell in Georgia that there was somethingvery special between you two, but marriage . . . ?”In Georgia he wanted me to be his submissive, but Iwon’t tell her that.“Ha一ve you set a date?”“No.”“I wish your father was alive,” she whispers. Oh no . . .not this. Not this, now.“I know, Mom. I would ha一ve liked to know him, too.”“He only held you once, and he was so proud. Hethought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.” Hervoice is a deathly hush as the familiar tale is retold . . .voice is a deathly hush as the familiar tale is retold . . .again. She will be in tears next.“I know, Mom.”“And then he died.” She sniffs, and I know this has sether off as it does every time.“Mom,” I whisper, wanting to reach down the phoneand hold her.“I’m a silly old woman,” she murmurs and she sniffsagain. “Of course I am happy for you, darling. Does Rayknow?” she adds, and she seems to ha一ve recovered herequilibrium.“Christian’s just asked him.”“Oh, that’s sweet. Good.” She sounds melancholic,but she’s making an effort.“Yes, it was,” I murmur.“Ana, darling, I love you so much. I am happy for you.And you must both visit.”“Yes, Mom. I love you, too.”“Bob is calling me, I ha一ve to go. Let me ha一ve a date.We need to plan . . . are you ha一ving a big wedding?”Big wedding, crap. I ha一ven’t even thought about that.Big wedding? No. I don’t want a big wedding.“I don’t know yet. As soon as I do, I’ll call.”“Good. You take care now and be safe. You twoneed to ha一ve some fun . . . plenty of time for kids later.”Kids! Hmm . . . and there it is again—a not-so-veiledreference to the fact that she had me so early.“Mom, I didn’t really ruin your life, did I?”She gasps. “Oh no, Ana, never think that. You werethe best thing that ever happened to your father and me. Ithe best thing that ever happened to your father and me. Ijust wish he was here to see you so grown up and gettingmarried.” She’s wistful and maudlin again.