Christian's pov

As much as I hate to admit it, Flynn was right. My last session with him was in fact an eye opener. It was exactly what I needed to get the crucial insight to sift through the millions of thoughts racking through my brain, as I struggle to find the inner peace that I've been craving for far too long. For one, he threw in my face the fact that I can't communicate for shit. Well, not in those exact words, but that was the general meaning behind his message. On a professional level, that's never been an issue and we both agreed that when it comes to matters of the corporate world, I'm a fucking genius. No doubt about that.

It's on a deeper and emotional level that the waters are muddied. Putting feelings and emotions I don't comprehend into words is what forces me to shut down and barricade myself from the outside world, hence my need to be in control, to dominate, to command. This is how I communicate in all things. It's what drives me, it's how I accomplish my goals and reach the finish line.

It's nothing new that my dominant self stems from my anger and self-loathing issues, the root of all evil. Dominating has always been the only way I efficiently communicate without losing my self-control. It's how I thrive and what I need, or what I thought I needed.

Then, there's Ana.

Flynn made me realize one thing, his words hitting me like a ton of bricks. I still can't fucking wrap my head around it.

"In a BDSM type arrangement, it's not the Dominant that holds the power, it's the submissive. If she says no or uses a 'safe-word,' as you aptly name it, you have no choice but to relinquish your authority over her. You no longer hold the power."

"This is where the fine line lies between a BDSM type arrangement and a conventional type of relationship. If you choose to pursue Ana in a non-submissive type of role, you can no longer play the role of a Dominant."

Well, fuck me. The worst part is that he's fucking right. And that was when my epiphany struck me. The choice was never about whether I should make Ana my submissive, or if I should simply just fuck her to get her out of my system. The choice is on a much deeper level. As a Dominant, it is not a role that I'm in, it is who I am. It is all I've ever known.

Where the issue lies is that I simply cannot fathom the thought of hurting Anastasia, ever. But as a Dom that is what I do. I consensually hurt my submissives. Is my need to dominate far greater than my desire to explore something different and new with Ana? Do I choose to allow my self-loathing to suck me up dry until there is nothing left, or do I follow the light at the end of tunnel and aim to be a better man?

I don't know if I could ever find happiness in a vanilla type relationship. Flynn thinks I should try to explore something in a more conventional type of setting and see where it leads. The idea scares the living shit out of me and I don't know if I have what it takes to be the man that I should be, or the man that Ana deserves. One thing's for certain, I can no longer deny this hold that she has over me. The idea of becoming vulnerable on an emotional level terrifies me to no end.

Continuing to hide behind the BDSM lifestyle isn't going to change these feelings towards Ana or make them dissolve. Hearing what Flynn had to say put many things in perspective. To focus on a specific goal that logically makes perfect sense. What I desperately needed was a kick in the ass, and Flynn gave it to me. But in my world things are never black and white. That's why I'm fifty shades of gray, so to speak. One thing is for certain. Until I don't work out all these issues, Ana can never know about my lifestyle. Not yet.

So earlier this week I made the conscious effort to open up the lines of communication between us and made contact with her the only way I thought would be wisest, through the Y&H communicating program. So the minute she brought up the 'lingerie incident' as I now call it and mentioned how wet she was, I instantly had to adjust my pants. As the cyber exchanges got naughtier, I got harder, until I took it too far and she told me to go fuck myself. I fucking lost it and my dominant side instantly emerged. First attempt at communication backfired! This was going to be harder than I thought, I told myself.

My second attempt at making contact fared much more successfully, except for the fact that I went nuclear on her when she opted to have lunch with another guy over me. Well, ok that's not exactly how it played out, but to me that's what it felt like. Only this time I admitted that I couldn't stop thinking about her, and when she attempted to walk away I made things right the only way I knew how, by making her come. Reaching my goal might not be such a difficult task after all.

So here I am now, seated in the backseat of my SUV, looking out the window narrowing my focus on her. Ana is seated on a park bench waiting to meet this so called male friend of hers for lunch. Taylor has the SUV parked behind a tree, away from view so that I can covertly witness this encounter with my own eyes and see what this fucker actually looks like. Needing to make absolutely certain that this jackass poses no threat in my pursuit of Ana, no matter how fucked up this is. I don't give a fuck how much she tries to convince me that this asshole is nothing but a friend, the bottom line is that a guy is a guy. Period.

I hate to resort to such drastic measures, and I must admit I'm disgusted with myself for following her here like a damn stalker and dragging Taylor with me. But I can't stay away from her and I won't tolerate any other man going anywhere near what is mine. No fucking way. Flynn would have my balls on a platter if he only knew. But it is what it is.

As I impatiently glance at my Omega watch for the millionth time in the last twenty seconds, the buzzing of my blackberry alerts me to an incoming call.

"Grey," I answer curtly.

"Christian darling, it's Elena." Just fucking great.

"Elena I told you I wasn't interested in pursuing a contractual agreement with Rachel," I spit out much to my own irritation. I'm then greeted by silence.

"Christian that isn't why I'm calling. It's about Linc," she spells out after a stretched out pause as I scratch the back of my head.

"What does this have to do with me?" I ask with an air of frustration as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"I need your help, can you meet me for dinner tonight?" she asks. "I'll explain everything in person …"

I'm quickly distracted from her tirade when my eye catches sight of this mystery male approaching Ana. A huge smile spreads across her face as this fucker with a big toothy grin wraps his arms around her. I can feel my color rising and my temper flaring when he lifts her into a spin. Motherfucker.

"Christian, you still there?"

"Fine, make the arrangements Elena and get back to me," I draw a sharp breath as I brush her off without as much as a goodbye and disconnect the call.

I will myself to count to ten in a desperate attempt not to lose control. Going caveman on Ana will surely not score me any brownie points, even though I'm fighting the urge from stalking over there this very instant and knocking that toothy smirk off of that motherfucker's face. I take a deep breath as I loosen my tie. This was a bad idea.

Ana's pov

I'm seated on a park bench waiting for Jose to pop up, still reeling over what happened only moments ago in Christian's office. The memory of how he touched me, gripped my thighs and pulled me close, kissing me with wild abandon. The way his hands explored all the sensitive parts of my body, all of it replaying in my head over and over, as if I keep hitting the replay button.

His touch, rough with need only intensified and awakened this wild desire in me that I'm convinced lay dormant for far too many years. It's almost as though his touch was what I've been waiting for, what I've been craving, bringing on this new sexual awakening in me. I instantly shake the thoughts out of my head. I refuse to read too much into this, for fear that this all just might be in my head.

His eyes, there is just something about the intensity of those gray hypnotic eyes that calls out to me on a deeper level. My heart races at the mere thought of that electric pull whenever he's anywhere near me. The effect he has on me with his presence alone without even touching me is enough to overwhelm all my senses. How can this be? This hold he has over me is terrifying. The way my body responds to his voice, to his touch turning me into someone I don't even know or recognize.

"Hey cutie pie," I instantly recognize the familiar voice, bringing an immediate smile to my face. I lift my eyes to meet Jose's as he makes his way towards me, arms wrapping around me lifting me into a spin.

"It's so great to see you again, Ana. I missed you," he admits, putting me back down.

"You're quite in a cheerful mood. I take it Spain was a great experience?"

"Yea…" and just like that his mood shifts, and an unexpected awkwardness suddenly looms in the air between us.

"I got you your favourite veggie wrap," he offers, thoughtfully handing me a lunch bag.

"Thanks Jose," I say, as we both sit on the park bench and eat our wraps in uncomfortable silence, the minutes stretching without either one of us uttering a single word.

"So how was Spain?" I ask, finally breaking the awkward silence.

"Spain was good," he begins hesitantly nodding his head, although I get the feeling he has something to say but is choosing not to. "I met someone …" And there it is, the big news.

"Jose, that's wonderful," I say as a sigh of relief washes over me. Thank goodness!

"Yeah, Gabriela's quite awesome," he reluctantly begins. "Actually, this is what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Offering my best attempt at sounding surprised.

"I'm engaged." I cough, chocking on my lunch.

"I'm sorry I thought I heard you say you're engaged."

"That's because that's exactly what I just said."

"Um … that's … great," I stutter, eyeing him suspiciously. "Wow, that … was fast."

"I know, crazy right?" He retorts as I nod in disbelief. Jose is engaged. The thought suddenly registering. I'm truthfully very happy for him, but I can't shake the feeling that he might be rushing into something he's not sure about. Seeing how only a few weeks ago he professed his love to me.

"So will she be moving to Portland?" He looks away, refusing to meet my gaze.

"Actually, I'm the one that's moving." And then it hits me, Jose is finally moving on. I just never thought that he'd need to relocate to another continent in order to do that. The thought saddens me as I allow this new information to sink in.

"That's a big step," I shoot back not knowing what else to say. He just shrugs his shoulders.

"So when are you leaving?"

"Tonight."

My eyes widen in shock as a sudden pang of sadness washes over me. The person sitting before me who's always been like a brother figure and a constant in my life is leaving, for good. For one, I don't know how I feel about that. Deep down, I know it's probably for the best because I could never reciprocate the feelings he's admitted to having for me.

"Um … wow," I stutter, fighting back tears. This, I was not expecting.

"Ana, I … I want you to know that from the bottom of my heart, I truly want you to be happy. I really do," he confesses as he wipes a tear away from my face. "And I wanted to apologize for all the things I said to you before I left, it was unfair of me to accuse you of leading me on and it pains me knowing that I caused this rift between us."

"Jose stop …"

"No, please hear me out," he interrupts me, reaching out to take my hand in his. "You've been an incredible friend and I hate myself for jeopardizing that unbreakable bond we had over a silly misunderstanding. The time I spent away allowed me to rationalize and realize what a great deal our friendship means to me and I never want to lose that. I want you to know that no matter what, you can always count on me."

"Jose, it's all forgotten," I reassure him with a wave of my hand. "I'm just glad that we're able to work this all out so we can put it behind us and move forward. You deserve to be happy too big guy," I tease, fist pumping his shoulder.

"From the looks of things I'd say you've been keeping pretty busy yourself," he winks at me, his statement completely throwing me off.

"What are you talking about?" I smile, raising a curious eyebrow as he tilts his chin upward pointing it at my neck.

"I wish I had a mirror on me," he jokes as I still blink in confusion. A sudden hint of unease runs through me as I rummage through my purse, pulling out a makeup mirror to inspect myself. What I see instantly makes the blood drain from my face. A red patch on my jaw hinting at a subtle stubble burn. Which surprisingly I find kind of hot. But it's what my eye catches further down my neck close to my collarbone that has me seeing red. I clench my eyes shut in horror when I see it. Jose doubles over in a fit of laughter. A hickey. A fucking hickey!

"Earth to Ana," he chimes in as he waves his hand over my eyes. "Where did you just drift off to?"

"I should punch you for not saying anything sooner."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," he laughs, waving both hands in the air.

"Still, you could've told me," I scold him. "How the hell am I supposed to go back to work like this?"

"I think someone has some explaining to do," he jokes.

"Not funny Jose."

And then it hits me. Christian's reaction to my meeting with Jose. He marked me on purpose. He had to. He fucking marked me! Son of a bitch. He is definitely going to get an earful. This is exactly why you don't fuck around during work hours.


Needless to say I cut my get together with Jose shorter than intended as I rushed to the nearest TJ Maxx and bought one of those girlie scarfs making sure that I was at least presentable enough to head back to the office.

When I finally brought myself to say goodbye to Jose I couldn't hold back the tears any longer and he pulled me into an embrace as we hugged for what felt like ages. I never thought it would be so hard to part ways with him and a part of me will miss our friendship terribly. We were finally distracted by the screech of tires of a speeding car that sounded oddly close to us. In fact, a little too close.

Back at my desk I breathed a sigh of relief when I learned that Alan was out of the office, head deep in client meetings all afternoon. I wasn't in the mood to get mocked by my boss for my office indiscretion if you will. I didn't hear from Christian for the rest of the afternoon either.

A ping of my cell phone suddenly alerts me to a text message from Kate.

Ana, I'm at the W Hotel. Work convention. Meet me for drinks at the hotel bar lounge after work?

Sure, why not. It's Thursday and after the emotionally charged day I just had, I could use a drink or three.

Christian's pov

"What the fuck little bro, what has the punching bag done to you?"

"Fuck off, Elliott," I bark, sweat dripping from my face as I throw another furious punch at the punching bag in front me nearly knocking Elliott out in the process.

"It's Ana isn't it?"

"Elliott if you don't shut the fuck up you will become the punching bag," I spit back.

I couldn't breathe. My mind drew a blank, my heart was pounding out of my chest at the sight of Ana in that fucker's arms. Rage, nothing but all consuming rage overtook me in that moment. How I managed to restrain myself from barging in on their moment and tearing him apart, from limb to limb is beyond me. I wanted to hurt him. Badly. I attempted in vain to remember Flynn's words, but mind over matter was not working. The monster in me was awakening, anger flaring through my veins. All I could think of was how much I wanted to cause Ana pain, to punish her. But that could never happen. She is not my submissive, and never could be.

Taylor kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat, reading the signs far too easily that I was growing angrier by the minute. I felt my palm twitch as I sat there watching them and I knew I needed to get out of there fast before I did something stupid.

"Little bro, if this has something to do with that guy Jose that's in town …" he begins. Wait, he knows about that fucker?

"Jose? That's the fucker's name?" I snarl, eyes blazing.

"I knew it. Jose's the reason you're batting your chest and acting like a fucking caveman."

"What the fuck do you know about him?" My eyes fixate on Elliott's. I need to know what he knows.

"I saw Kate earlier and she told me that Jose's an old friend of theirs and that he met up with Ana today. Apparently he just got engaged and is leaving for Spain tonight, for good." The blood instantly drains from my face at Elliott's words, causing the air to leave my lungs. I instantly collapse onto the floor, the ceiling suddenly spinning.

"Hey Chris, you alright?!"

"I'm an asshole," I breathe, my strangled voice barely audible.

"Yes, we all knew that."


It's now fifteen passed six as I impatiently wait for Elena. Patience has never been a virtue of mine and I despise last minute dinner arrangements. I often regret venturing into a business partnership with her as she has been nothing but a thorn in my ass since she became my Domme, and my first fuck. She is the reason the lifestyle has always worked for me. I am a Dominant because of her. After my meeting with Flynn, the more I look back and reflect on the impact her presence has had in my life, the more I begin to resent her.

I'm seated in a private dining area at the W Hotel, not exactly sure why she chose this location of all places. Doubt suddenly creeps into my mind as it dawns on me that Elena is never late. Something doesn't feel right.

An unfamiliar presence enters the room and a shiver runs through me. I hear the clinking of heals slowly striding towards me. I can't bring myself to raise my eyes or lift my face to greet this stranger, for fear I will not like what I'm about to see.

"Good evening Sir," the sultry voice speaks. "You may address me as Rachel." Fuck me.

Ana's pov

I'm at the hotel bar lounge, anxiously waiting for Kate. An hour and a Cosmopolitan later, there is still no sign of her anywhere. Odd. This is the right hotel I convince myself. I motion for the waiter to get me another Cosmopolitan when I decide to pull out my cell phone to re-read her message, in the event we got our messages crossed. But as luck would have it, my attempts to turn on my cell phone fail as I realize that my battery has died. As if matters couldn't get any worse.

"Great, just my luck," I mutter under my breath.

I decide to head back to the main lobby in search of the concierge so I can make a call using one of their telephones.

"Ana, thank goodness you called, I've been desperately trying to reach you," she cries out.

"Kate where are you? I've been worried sick."

"Sudden bout of nausea. I think it's food poisoning. Elliott came to pick me up. When I tried to get a hold of you my call kept going straight to voicemail."

"Dead battery," I explain. "That's horrible Kate. How are you feeling?" I ask, my voice tinged with concern.

"Like shit. I haven't stopped throwing up and … oh God, I need to go …"

Well that's one way to ruin an evening. On my way out I decide to make a stop at the ladies room. As I make my way down the lobby following the ladies room sign I pause momentarily at the entrance of a private dining area when a familiar voice catches my attention. Seated across from a stunning brunette, in his pressed charcoal suit and fitted white shirt, Christian motherfucking Grey looking quite like the player that he is.

Oblivious to the third party standing at the doorway, my breath catches in my throat when I see him glaring at this model worthy brunette with dark eyes. Breathe Ana, breathe. Deep down I knew this is who he really is, but to witness it first hand is like a dagger aimed directly to my stomach, my heart now settled in my throat.

Narrowing my focus, I spot this woman slipping something onto the table, sliding it towards him. What the fuck? A hotel room card? I think I'm going to be sick. I try to make out what she's saying and the only thing I manage to overhear is the word 'paperwork' and her mouthing in a barely audible voice "Sir." Her head downcast. My heart sinks, the blood draining from my face. That son of a bitch!

He gets up sharply and begins stalking out of the private dining area, sheer dread washing over me. Shit. He can't see me, he can't see me. Horror swims through me as I quickly turn around in panic desperately aiming to duck for cover. In my haste attempt to go unnoticed I walk right into a table stand knocking over the vase that was over it. Fuck!

"Ana?" he prompts, as I stand still, frozen in time, my back towards him. I silently debate my next move, but I can't think, my mind draws a blank. I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath. My heart is racing a thousand miles an minute, pain lancing through me at what I've just witnessed. I can't even look at him.

The thought of him heading up to a hotel room to fuck some easy floozy's brains out leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I simply can't bear the thought of him looking at, let alone touching another woman. Especially after our own little secret rendez-vous earlier today. I do the only thing that makes sense. I run.

"Ana!" I don't even bother answering, I just turn on my heel and storm right out through the main entrance sliding door, briskly walking out along the side of the road frantically keeping an eye out for a passing taxi. Where's a damn cab when you need one.

"Ana, wait!" I speed up my pace as he chases after me. I'm growing more and more furious. My mind is working over time and right now the only thing that makes sense is to run as fast as I could. Although I know deep down I can't outrun him forever.

"Ana, will you slow the hell down!"

"You're a motherfucking asshole!" I yell over my shoulder, my voice shaking as the tears now stream down my face. Man the fuck up Anastasia! Don't let him see you vulnerable! He closes the distance between us, catching up to me and grabs my arm.

Christian's pov

"Let go of me," she hisses through clenched teeth, desperately trying to pull herself away from my forceful grasp.

"If this is about the woman you just saw me with I can explain," I try to reason, my voice growing laboured. She shoves my hand away as she turns around to face me. She's crying. Fuck.

"Don't keep your fuck buddy waiting on my account," she spits angrily throwing daggers my way. I've never seen her so riled up.

"It's not what you think."

"Are you kidding me? That's horseshit!" she attacks, eyes glaring and full of anger. "I may be naïve, but I'm not stupid. I saw you Christian! I saw the fucking room key she tried to sneak past you!" I lunge forward, reaching out to touch her but she shoves me away and slaps me across the face, completely throwing me off guard.

"You also saw me walk away," I throw back at her after a moment's pause, my jaw tightening as she blinks furiously back at me. "Despite what you may think of me, I'm not the type of man you think I am."

"I don't know what to believe anymore," her voice shakes, her eyes growing cold and detached. There is something suddenly wrong in her demeanour.

"What were you doing here anyway?" I ask as I run my hand through my hair.

"Don't you dare insinuate that I followed you here," she accuses with a pointing finger. "Kate and I were supposed to have drinks at the hotel bar, but she got sick. I was on my way home when I took a wrong turn looking for the ladies room and found you instead getting cozy with some Alessandra Ambrosio lookalike," she continues.

"And lucky me I had a front row seat."

"It's not at all what it looked like."

"Christian, I've had a long day. This whole cat and mouse game between us," she motions between us, her voice tense and suddenly so controlled. "It's exhausting me, I just need some space and some time to think." My jaw drops but no words come out. Christian Grey at a fucking loss for words. That's a first.

"I can't do that when I'm around you," she admits while looking down.

"Let me at least take you home," I offer, taking a closer step towards her.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she replies, slightly pulling away from me.

"Ana, please." We stare at each for what seems like an eternity, my eyes pleading and apologetic. I reach out to touch her face, tears trickling at the corner of her eyes. And then, out of nowhere a sudden look of blazing fire spreads across her face.

"What?" I ask, creasing my forehead in confusion.

"Care to explain this?" she bites with an eerie expression on her face as she tugs at a thin scarf around her neck, exposing the velvety flesh I had the pleasure to mark earlier that afternoon. She knows I marked her on purpose. Damn fucking straight. One thing's for certain, I'm not going to apologize for that. She stands there, hands on her hips looking so fucking adorable I can't help but fight back a twitching grin.

"I'm not apologizing for that Ana. I wanted to send a message to that cockblocker, to let him know he can't have what's mine."

"Cockblocker? Seriously?" she hisses, crossing her arms over her chest. "He has a name, and it's Jose."

"I don't give a fuck if his name is Enrique Iglesias, he's still a cockblocker."

"You are fucking unbelievable Grey." She's pissed, I get it, but I'm not relenting on this.

"So are you going to tell me who the fuck is Alessandra Ambrosio?" her eyes jerk up as she tries to keep a straight face in a failed attempt to stifle a giggle. Nice save Grey! Mission diverted.

"Shut up, Christian," she mocks, her face slowly lighting back up.

"Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"I did Mr. Grey, what are you going to do about it?" she challenges me head on with a hint of sarcasm. Oh Ms. Steele. Bring. It. On.

"That's it." In a swift movement I lift her over my shoulder. "Christian, put me down!" she shrieks as I spank her ass making her yelp. I don't care how much of a fucking caveman I look like right now, but I'm getting her home whether she likes it or not.


I'm fixated on the mechanical actions of her movements as I sit there in her apartment and watch her in the kitchen with her apron on. She is distant and her demeanour detached as she beats the shit out of those eggs with a whisk. I make no attempt at offering help for fear she'll be tempted to chop off my balls and use them as the main ingredient in her brownies.

It's late, she looks tired but she remains determined and focused on the task at hand, her eyes refusing to meet mine. I'm aware that her Thursday evenings are reserved for baking brownies for that douchebag Alan. Now that I think about it, it was only last Friday that I had her eating brownies out of the palm of my hand. So much has happened since then that I vaguely wonder how we got from that point to where we are now.

It's not normally like me to let things be, but her mind is elsewhere and in a moment of clarity I finally begin to understand that she needs her space. So I do the unthinkable, I voluntarily leave her apartment and promise myself to check up on her tomorrow. She still hasn't said the words, that she's forgiven me. A fool would only assume that she'd let me off the hook that easily.

By Friday morning, I ponder on the millions of ways I'd like to make Elena fucking Lincoln pay for her backfired attempt at shoving Rachel in my face. I know what she was trying to do. Do I understand why? Yes. But to use deceit and trickery to prove a point, that I will not accept or let slide. No one sets me up and gets away with it. No one. This shit stops now.

I log onto to the Y&H communicator program, ASteele is logged on but her status indicates that she is away from her desk. So I decide to type her a message anyway as a sign of peace offering so that when she gets back it's the first thing she sees on her screen.

CGrey: Miss me?

I sit back and I wait. One hour, two hours, nothing. Sitting on my desk in front of me lay documents that require my approval and immediate attention, messages waiting for replies, calls that I have yet to return. As I keep glancing at the computer screen to a window still waiting for Ana's reply I grow more and more frustrated and impatient. I'm physically seated at my desk in my office, but my mind is completely disconnected, out of reach. My focus is lost, my concentration is out of tune and my hair, a fucking mess. I can't function until I know she's ok, that we're ok. Are we even a we? Fuck this waiting. I don't do waiting.

Ana's pov

I spent the whole night freaking out, sleep refusing to find me, my mind in turmoil. This thing between Christian and me is seriously beginning to rear it's ugly head. I want to believe him when he tells me he's not that man. I really do. But a nagging feeling deep in my gut has me constantly second guessing his every move. Kate thinks I'm probably overthinking things, and deep down I know she's most likely right. I must admit that her softened attitude towards Christian took me by surprise or maybe the fact that her electrolytes were low was clouding her judgement.

My entire Friday morning is spent in the archive room tackling mindless filing. My mind is on auto pilot as every movement I make is mechanical without as much as an afterthought. Exactly what I need to keep me distracted from thoughts of him.

As I head back to my desk I notice that Alan's door is slightly open. Strange. He never leaves his door open. A familiar scent attacks my sense of smell as I'm about to close Alan's office door.

"Alan?" My eyes instantly widen when I place the familiar voice. I draw a sharp breathe and decide I need to stop hiding behind this wall I've put up and make my presence known.

"Sorry to disappoint you Christian, but it's just me." The expression on his face immediately lights up as he gives me a genuine smile. My heart instantly leaps at the sight of this fine specimen of a man seated on one of Alan's leather sofas.

"Ana, I'm so glad to see you," he says with a hint of relief in his voice.

"What are you doing in Alan's office?"

"Waiting for him to finish his cigarette," he replies with a smirk, although I'm not quite sure I believe him. Something tells me this impromptu visit from Mr. Grey has nothing to do with my boss. Game on.

"Since you're here Mr. Grey, allow me to offer you some brownies. I've baked you a special batch, all for you," I mock with a courteous tone of voice. He won't know what hit him. In a funny twist of role reversal I take a piece and bring it to his mouth.

"My turn to feed you Mr. Grey," I purr as he closes his mouth over the entire piece, eyes locking with mine as he drags his lips excruciatingly slowly over my fingers. The sensation instantly awakening the ache in my core.

"This is the best brownie I've ever had." That's what you think.

His eyes suddenly widen as his facial expression grows serious. The color of his cheeks flush to a crimson red as an unexpected bout of coughs has him gasping for air. The burn on his tongue now evident by his facial expression.

Christian's pov

"What the fuck, what did you put in this?" A victorious smile spreads across her face, her eyes dancing with joy.

"Mr. Grey, you look like you could use some water," she points out, feigning innocence. The little tease spiked my brownie with some spicy shit. She fetches a pitcher of ice cold water from Alan's coffee table to pour me a glass. What happens next I didn't even see coming.

"FUCK!" I snap in anger as she drops the entire glass of water on my lap.

"I'm so terribly sorry Mr. Grey. The glass was … slippery." Oh she's fucking asking for the beating of her life. Before I could even react she's already on her knees before me, a towel in hand that she managed to quickly fetch from Alan's private bathroom.

"Let me take care of that," she smiles with an air of mockery, vigorously rubbing against my now very erect member. Fucking little tease.

"You know Ms. Steele," I begin, cupping her face harshly in my hand. "If you weren't still a virgin, I'd spread you out over this glass table, spank the living shit out of you and fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk for a week."

She instantly rises, disgust written all over her face, clearly in response to my choice of words and tone of voice. If she thinks I'm turning a blind eye to this charade of hers she has another thing coming.

"You're such an ass," she hisses, turning on her heel to storm off. Oh no you don't. You're not running from me this time.

She all but sprints down the hallway towards a back door with an overhead sign that reads 'Archives.' Perfect. I closely trail behind her not letting her out of my sight. As I enter the huge filing room I close the door behind me, making sure to lock it.

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

"We're not done," I stalk towards her with angry determination.

"The hell we aren't."

"Careful Ms. Steele, you're playing with fire," I bark as she takes a swing at me in a failed attempt to slap me in the face again but I catch her wrist this time, halting her actions. She forcefully pulls her arm out of my grasp, her laboured breath growing as her chest rises and falls. What she does next takes me by surprise as she grabs me by the shirt with both hands and pulls me towards her mouth, attacking my lips.

I back her into a filing shelf causing the isle to shake as I lift both her arms over her head, pinning her as I relentlessly bite at her lips and attack her mouth. In a swift movement I spin her around so that I'm facing her back, burying my face in her hair as I make work on the zipper of her white sheath dress. Her breath comes in little pants as I run my fingers down her back to undo her dress, sliding it down over her shoulders, freeing her hands.

"Arms back up," I command in a deep ragged voice as she quickly complies.

I cup her breasts roughly through her white lace bra with one hand, feeling her erratic heartbeat as I pull her even closer, pressing her against me. I run my other hand down her thigh to the hem of her dress, lifting it until I reach the warm damp core between her legs, rubbing abruptly.

"Shit," she moans, throwing her head back, leaning further into me as she clings unto one of the shelves.

She turns back around to face me, eyes wild with lust and desire as I lift her up and wrap her legs around me, fisting one of my hands in her hair to pull her head back, nipping at her neck. I press her further against the shelves as I forcefully tug down her bra, taking one of her nipples in my mouth sucking hard, making her cry out.

She tugs at my shirt, pulling it out of my pants as she reaches for my belt. I quickly place her back down on unsteady feet, meeting her lust filled eyes as I shake my head in a silent 'no.' I fall down to my knees, grip her hips and pull her towards me. If there's one way I know I can get through to her, it's this way.

I hook my fingers on each side of the pair of tiny white lace panties and slowly slide them down her legs making her skin shiver. She looks down at me as I shove the panties in my pocket and mouth, "Mine."

"Hold on tight to the shelf above you," I order as I lift each leg one by one, placing them over my shoulders and firmly grasp her hips, giving her the support she needs as I plant soft kisses along her inner thighs until I reach my goal.

I start off gentle, licking along the folds and suckling on the sensitive spots as I angle her hips, slowly moving them towards my mouth. She cries out incoherent words as I look up to see her clinging onto the edge of the shelf, her eyes clenched shut as I plunge my tongue deep into her core. Fuck, she tastes amazing.

"Oh God," she whimpers in a strangled voice.

My mouth works her wildly, biting and sucking roughly until I feel her walls quivering around my tongue.

"Christian, I can't … shit, I'm so close," she cries out, her head thrown back.

"Let go, Ana," I breathe against her wet heat, my voice harsh with need. "Come against my tongue."

She screams, letting the wave of orgasm overtake her as I cling onto her for dear life. Once her breath evens out, I slowly unwrap her legs from around my neck and steadily guide them back down, running my hands up her body as I stand back up and massage her arms, pressing my forehead against hers.

"Let's call a truce, Ana," I whisper against her mouth, my breath still laboured. "Let's start over."

Her eyes open and search mine, as I bend down and gently place a chaste kiss on her lips.

"How?" she whispers, her eyes full of question.

"I was thinking a candle lit dinner," I suggest, winking at her as I lift the corner of my mouth in a slow grin.

"That would be a nice place to start," she agrees with a smile that instantly softens her eyes and lights up her face. Mission accomplished.

"By the way, what did you put in that brownie?" I suddenly remember to ask.

"The secret ingredient Mr. Grey is … cayenne pepper … lots and lots of cayenne pepper."