Fifty Shades of Wrong - Chapter 1

Hey, I'm glad you're reading. This is my first fanfiction story. It takes place after book 1 in the Fifty Shades trilogy. There was no marriage. There are no kids. It's just Christian and Ana, a few other people, and a whole lotta… ahem, well, things get heated… for mature readers...

This is so wrong – on so many levels. Wrong because his girlfriend is in the room next door, probably listening to every noise that comes from this bed. Wrong because I'm about to be married – to his business partner and best friend! Most of all wrong because we've tried this before and it didn't work.

But I know from experience. I have no choice in the matter, because what Christian Grey wants, he takes.

Tonight, that happens to be me.

What is it about this man that hooks me every time?

I should run. But I can't… I'm no match for the billionaire business tycoon, the most powerful man in this city. The man who buys businesses, tears them down, and sells them off piece by piece. He's ruthless and hungry, and so… hot. So much more than his partner—more powerful, more successful, and well, more everything. What he says is the only thing that goes.

It's been three tumultuous years since we split up. The split-up itself was brutal. It's not every day a girl leaves a man like that. But, I had to—for my own self-respect. The three years since has been a roller-coaster of lust and passion and…domination. I think we had more sex after the separation than we did during our brief time together.

I'm not completely innocent, however… I mean, I couldn't exactly turn him away. Have you seen him? Dark, copper-color hair tousling his head. Sleek, slender physique, rippling definition, and those enigmatic gray eyes. I'm getting lightheaded imagining him… He truly is breathtaking…

It's unfair, really. No one should be armed with such beauty.

Still…he wanted to hurt me. Didn't he? I had to end it. What sane, self-respecting woman wouldn't?

And I had to do it in a way that let him know it was over.

Which is exactly how I ended up in the arms of his latest business partner, Bradly Russel. At the time, it hadn't occurred to me that it would mean Christian would still be in my life. Of course, he would! The two men work together every day. As a team, they host dinner parties, seminars, and other publicity events on grand, global scales. It doesn't even end there. Their families spend holidays together. They even vacation together. If you can call what Mr. Grey does vacation.

When he announced his serious relationship to Katrina, a blonde assistant of his, I thought Christian was finally moving on. I wasn't sure how I felt about it, however. It conjured up an array of tumultuous and tangled emotions, most of which settled in my chest, where they set up camp and remain today.

Bradly and I have a…lovely relationship. I'm pretty sure I've fallen for him. I was sure…

Until Christian returned from an African safari, renewed in his mission to take ownership of me once again.

I don't want to hurt Bradly. But, Christian…

It's his command that holds me paralyzed, here in this – bedroom? It's a room, anyway. With a bed. A ginormous, four-post bed with heavy, red-velvet curtains and plenty of rope…

This can't be the bedroom he shares with her… Katrina doesn't strike me as the type to…experiment.

In all the time I've known him, I've never been in this room.

Briefly, I wonder how many wrists have been tied in the knot dangling next to my head. The result in my stomach is unsettling. I'm lying in the middle, in nothing but a black thong and matching, lacy bra, which barely fit my oversized breasts. I can feel it about to snap from my fullness. Mr. Grey told me to be waiting in here for him. Ready. And I don't dare disobey.

I don't know what he'll do to his partner if I were to defy him. On that note, he has given me plenty of warning.

But, oh my. My head is swimming. How in the world did I get myself into this?

"Miss Steele," Christian said the night Bradly and I announced our engagement. "You're going to marry my best friend and partner. It practically makes us family."

Though Bradly and I had been together nearly a year by this point, it was the first time Christian had even come close to acknowledging our relationship. That night, surrounded by friends and family, champagne glasses lifted in a toast, and after his warm words of congratulations and well-wishes, Christian lowered himself to my ear in a hug for the public to see that all was well with us (considering the break up the tabloids covered in explicit detail, whether verified or not—mostly not).

"Before you marry my best friend," he murmured in my ear, "I'm going to teach you how to pleasure a man."

Though the words were shocking enough, it wasn't so much what he said, but how he said it. There was real command in his voice. And velvet… My panties moistened on the spot and I nearly passed out.

"Whoa!" my fiancé said, catching me, laughing it off, oblivious to the promise his partner had just made to me. He took the untouched glass from my hand, making a show for our rapt audience. "That's enough to drink for tonight."

As I looked at my fiancé that night, I felt a pang of guilt. Guilt for entertaining the thought of me and Christian again.

Bradly's eyes are a crisp, cool blue, and ever so…piercing. They have a way of gripping you. He has his own way of dominating. On his head, is a permanent array of orderly locks, darker than Christian's auburn mess. As dark as an ebony night stained in a blue moon's light.

That night, with Bradley's arm around me, Christian's smile did not touch his eyes.

By now all his promises and demands and desires have come to a head, all at Christian's command, all in secret. Earlier tonight, I knew it was the end. We bumped into each other in the hall at yet another fundraiser for one of their projects. A dinner he's hosting!

"Oh, sorry, Mr.—Christian," I said.

He paused and, ignoring the fact that my fiancé and his girlfriend were a few feet away around the corner in his kitchen, he allowed the ghost of a smile to reach his perfect lips. He pinned me against the wall, his body inches from mine, and gently smoothed a strand of dark hair from my cheek. His gray eyes bore into me, capturing me by their rigid dominance.

"I've known you since you were in college, Ana," he breathed in my ear as he nibbled, goosepimpling me all over. "My god," he murmured, withdrawing to drink me in. "You are an object to behold." His eyes journeyed down my curves, landing on my breasts. "I've told you before, and I'll tell you again. You can't be serious about Bradly. I'll have you back, whatever it takes."

"Christian—"

"Fine, Ana," he grated, clinching his jaw. But he recovered quickly, returning his gaze to mine. "I don't want to argue with you. Not tonight. If you insist on moving forward with Bradly, well, that makes you an interest in the business. And, since I own sixty percent of the company, you belong to me."

I didn't argue. I couldn't— Eyes. Captivated. Remember?

Lowering his lips to my ear once more, he whispered, "Tonight. You're going to be my submissive."

My entire body went numb, and my knees were in danger of buckling. Again, it wasn't what he said, but the way he said it, that turned my body to Jell-O. I might have wet my panties a little. Flurries of heat shot up into my chest and my body reeled. Then I felt something...hard beneath his slacks press up against my front.

"It'll be like old times," he said in the hall while dinner guests mingled around the corner. "Say you'll submit to me. Say it." He stroked the back of his finger down my cheek, then tenderly brushed his thumb across my lips.

"I'm your submissive."

"And?"

"I will submit to you. Tonight."

"Good," he said, just before planting his lips on mine.

Before I knew what was happening, his tongue was in my mouth, claiming me for himself. His hand swept down my curves over my clothes. When he was done, he whispered against my lips, "Be ready for my instructions." And he walked off, leaving me there alone in the dim hall, my body reeling, and my mind racing.

His instructions came sooner than I expected. At dinner, sprawled across my napkin, which I crumpled up and held in my hand throughout the entire meal.

Soon, I'll be married, and these encounters won't happen anymore. Will it? That's what I'm wondering as I lay on his bed right now, in this room I've never been in, awaiting my dominant.

"I'm pleased to see you've followed my instructions." His voice is a velvet whisper at my ear, waking me from my reverie…

Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think? Do you want the dirty details? Or should I clean it up before I post?