"Anastasia."
He smirked, smoldered, stared at me from across the room, his eyes dark and unfathomable. Those full, sensual lips were twitching at the corners, lifting mere centimeters in an expression so devilishly sexy it boggled the mind.
Oh my.
My inner goddess licked over her lower lip, practically salivating with anticipation.
Geez…he's so hot…
"Christian," I said, stammering, fingering the hard strip behind my back. It gave me confidence; soon, it would all be over.
"I'm ready for you, Miss Steele," he murmured, in a voice like the darkest of chocolate.
"Oh?"
"Yes," he whispered, as his eyes burned holes through my blouse. "So ready. Bend down, Anastasia. I want to…chastise you a little first.
I swallowed, caught between my fluttering heart and screaming brain. Meanwhile, my inner goddess was shouting insults at my stupidity, my daring to disobey him when he was so lovely and commanding. My very own destroying angel.
No. I would do this. My womanhood demanded it.
"Wait," I said faintly, rubbing hard at the whispering, supple object.
The time had come.
He stopped, cocking a perfect, arched brow.
"Wait?" he queried, his tone rich and deliciously menacing. It took everything in me not to swoon, to fall limp and submissive at his feet…yet I stood my ground, swallowing.
"Yes. Wait. Please. Let me just…"
I approached him, taking his lovely, planed face in both hands and pulling it down to mine. Our lips met with earthshattering intent, and at once he sought to trap my hands, running his own harshly over my body. Yet I was quicker and, with a desperate burst of strength, pushed him down onto the bed, picking up the object which in my haste I had dropped to the ground.
I held it, a glistening black swish, above him: it was a whip.
"No, Mr. Grey," I whispered, surprised at how calm I sounded, when inside my heart was slamming, banging against my chest.
He won't suppress me anymore.
"I am ready for you."
"Anastasia," he breathed, his eyes becoming alarmed as I pulled from under my mattress a long coil of rope. It was rope I'd only dreamed of utilizing, rope I'd only in my dizziest daydreams ever procured.
It was the rope of my freedom.
On a rush of power, I tied his still shock-frozen hands to the bedsteads, relishing his abject helplessness. My inner goddess gave a feral scream of triumph.
The whip whistled into the air, and came down with a biting crack; Christian shuddered, something akin to horror in his eyes. Horror which quickly faded into a newfound meekness as I arranged myself on top of him, divesting him of his pants, his silken boxers.
The control was invigorating; roughly, I smacked his bare bottom, bosom heaving in delight at his agonized whimper.
"You won't oppress me anymore," I breathed, my words coming hard as both of our feelings intensified.
"No," he whispered, clenching his teeth against a moan of both pleasure and pain. "No…never, Ana…"
One hand tugged at his hair, pulling his lips to mine.
"Good."
After the climax, when we both lay there panting, I whispered into the darkness:
"Christian?"
His voice, hoarse but still unthinkably beautiful, sounded spent; I smiled a smile of triumph.
"I-I suppose you're not the only one who fucks."