Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

SuzB – Yes! And so I begins! :) I have been looking forward to this very chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it. Thank you! Much Love x

Katby – Glad you liked the kiss! It was a really great scene to write. :) Hm, I think I've heard that too! Thank you. Hope you like this one! Much Love x

SA – Thank you! I'm really, really glad you're enjoying it so far! Hope you enjoy this one! Much Love x

J – Wow, thank you! It really means a lot to know you're enjoying it and excited for more. Long may it continue! Much Love x

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Holland – Thank you! Great to hear you liked it. I hope you like this one! Much Love x

Ellie – She did! She kissed him. She's a bit feisty, isn't she? ;) Thank you, Ellie! Really glad you liked it! Hope you enjoy this one. Much Love x

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Nicol – I have a very limited scope of where this is going. I'm discovering it with you! :) Thank you. Much Love x

Hello my lovelies!

Soooooooooooo amazing to hear you enjoyed the last chapter! I absolutely loved writing it from start to finish - which is kinda weird to say because usually I hate chapters during editing and flushing out. (Apologies to those who don't know me personally and won't understand what I mean by flushing out!)

I really hope you enjoy this chapter, too! This is just the beginning...

As always, I'll be back for soon. Right now, I'm off to grab myself a toasted cinnamon and fruit bagel. Enjoy! :)

Much Love,

Chelsea x

"Hey, new girl – you comin' or what?" Abi shouted across the quiet and now empty bar. She stood by the staff room door, propping it open with her hip. "We're all heading for breakfast. It's on Cal."

"Like fuck it is!" Cal snorted, slamming the cash register shut. He started counting through the roll of cash he's just collected from it. "I'll stretch to a cup of coffee but that's it. You fuckers get enough out of me as it is."

Abi rolled her eyes and lowered her voice, "He'll pick up the tab. He always does. He's a big softie, really."

"I heard that," he grunted, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

"Um, I think I'm just going to head home," I shook my head, offering a semi-convincing smile to them both. I carried my tray of glasses back to the bar, depositing them into the racks for tomorrow. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"You sure?" Abi jerked her head back and frowned. "We don't bite! And if Cal won't pay for pancakes, I will. Come on, join us!"

I turned my head away and glanced at the office door for a moment. I haven't seen Christian since I left the office and returned to my shift. He hasn't made an appearance. He hasn't sent any additional requests through to the tablet – not even to ask for the drink I said I would get him but completely forgot about.

When I emerged from the office, Cal was the first to comment on my flushed appearance. He assumed I had had another altercation with Ms Lincoln. I realised then that no one knew exactly who was inside the office. And I kept it that way. I jumped back into serving drinks and clearing tables, counting the minutes until the end of my shift.

"I'm sure," I shook my head softly. "I'm really tired. Maybe next time?"

"Well I'm having your share. See you tomorrow," she smiled, twisting into the staff room to join the others as they collected their things. I nodded and she let the door fall to a close. Laughter seeped from the room, so carefree and easy. All of the other bartenders are close to one another, they have bonds that link them. And then there's me. Little Miss Clueless.

I left Cal to his counting and entered the staff room, just moments after everyone else piled out. I slowly pulled my new coat on, taking my time to fasten the buttons and tie the belt around my waist. Waiting until the coast was clear, I finally stepped out into the parking lot, quickly teetering to my car. I have to keep up the pretence. Cal is always the last of us to leave the building; he'd start asking questions if I hovered in the back. About ten minutes after I left, he emerged from the building, carrying his jacket over his shoulder. He gave me a curt nod before jumping into his grey Chevy and driving off into the night.

"Right… Let's do this," I coached myself, twisting and arching my neck to free up the tension that has built in it over the course of my shift. I shoved my bag under the passenger seat, hiding it from view, and then climbed back out into the cool breeze.

I looked all around before I opened the club door, to check there is no one to catch me sneaking back inside. Wanda is the only vehicle left in the lot, and there's hardly a bustle skirting through the air. Inside the club was just as quiet, eerie with its lack of music and the scurrying of tenders. I set my sights on the office, finding myself being drawn to it like a magnet.

Wait… my mind stalled my steps. My car is the only one in the lot. What if he's gone home? What if he –

"There you are," Christian yanked the door open and huffed. He rocked uneasily on his feet, his broad frame almost filling the doorway. "Where did you go?"

"I had to leave. Everyone else was leaving and I didn't want them to –"

"Come in," he interrupted me.

He turned his head away and stepped aside, giving me room to enter. I shuffled passed him and headed for the desk, opting for one of the simple black chairs in front of it.

"How was your shift?" he asked, breaking the silence. He grabbed the arms of my chair and sharply yanked it across the floor, to face him head on. He turned the other black chair and sat down on it, opposite me. "That's better," he gave a quick smile. "Your shift – how did it go?"

"Um, okay, I guess," I shrugged my shoulders. I couldn't hold his gaze for more than a moment at a time. I feel myself blushing each time I look at him, remembering how I pounced on him earlier. I glanced around, my eyes falling to the desk. There is a stack of papers all piled up on it, along with a series of envelopes. "Is that all stuff for the club?"

"Yes," he nodded in the corner of my eye. "Accounts, contracts, membership forms. All very boring stuff."

"Sounds it," I snorted a quiet laugh. I dropped my head forward. My fingers knotted nervously in my lap. "Why am I here, Christian?"

"Because we need to talk," he said easily, in his dark, gravelly voice. "After what happened earlier, it's important that we discuss some things, to make sure we're both on the same page."

I inhaled a shaky breath.

"Can I ask you something first?"

I lifted my eyes when he didn't answer. He jerked his head forward once, in a nod, and then stared at me. I could feel my pulse banging in my temples.

"Earlier, when you kissed me back…" I paused, my mouth feeling dry and tacky. "Was that a mistake? Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean to kiss you?" he asked. I nodded. "Yes. Of course I meant to kiss you. Why else would I have done it?" he narrowed his eyes and shook his head, seemingly annoyed by my silly question. "It wasn't a mistake. Kissing you will never be a mistake… No, the only mistake I've made is allowing myself to kiss you knowing it won't happen again."

"Huh?"

What's that supposed to mean?

"W-Why won't it happen again?" my tongue stumbled over the words. "You enjoyed it."

I stole a glance to his crotch, now on full display thanks to his parted thighs. I shook my head and closed my eyes, feeling a wash of crimson spread over me.

"Yes, I did enjoy it. Very much so." He agreed. "That's not the issue here."

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" I snapped, slamming my hands onto my thighs, startling myself with the noise of it. I leaned forward slightly and scowled at him and his blank expression. "One minute you make me believe you're interested in me, and then the next minute you're holding me at arm's length… You're doing it again... You kissed me. I kissed you first before then you kissed. And now you're telling me it's not going to happen again?"

"You don't understand," he sighed, raking his hand across his face.

"You're right, I don't understand. I'm seriously confused over here!" I raised my voice. "Don't lead me on, Christian. If you don't care about me, then tell me. Don't give me money. Don't come to my rescue when I need help. Don't pay for my car repairs. Don't do any of it if you're just going to rebuke me at the next given opportunity."

I pushed out of the chair, thumping my feet into the floor. I stood over him for a second, until he rose. His breaths hardened. He hovered just inches from my face.

"I do care," he whispered, his eyes tracing my lips. "That's why this is so difficult."

"Do you like me?" I asked, regretting it moments later. I sound like I'm in middle school!

"Yes." His lips pursed. "I like you a lot. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You're here because Ms Lincoln's on business," I retorted.

"I am sure Mr Hunter could control things perfectly without me being here," he shook his head. He lifted his hands and placed them on my arms, gripping me tightly. "I'm here because of you. I can't stay away from you, no matter how hard I try. Ana, if I didn't like you, you would never see me again. I'm very adept at cutting people out of my life. Trust me."

I gulped as he said that to me. I do trust him when he says that. He oozes that no-nonsense attitude, everything always black and white with no grey areas.

"Why does this have to be difficult? Is it because you're my boss?"

He shook his head. His hands moved up to my shoulders.

"Has Cal said something to you?"

"Ana, please –"

"No. I have to know what's going on here. It's driving me crazy. You're driving me crazy!"

"I know the feeling," he whispered. "I want to tell you, I just don't know how. I've never had to have this discussion before."

"I need to know," I pleaded.

His fingers flexed, pressing hard into my coat. He held me for a second and then let his hands fall back to his sides. He eased back from me and turned, walking away. He rounded the desk and picked up one of the envelopes.

"That's for you," he said, dropping it onto the far corner of the long desk. I looked at it. My name is etched in black ink.

"What is it?"

"In there is a check for six months wages. I will personally support any future job applications you make, and I will make sure you receive an outstanding recommendation letter from us." His throat bobbed as he spoke. He didn't look at me. "I will inform the others. I will process the necessary paperwork. I'll make this as easy a transition for you as possible."

"Wait… you're firing me?" I gasped. I licked my lips hard. He shook his head.

"I'm giving you a choice. You can leave, I won't stop you. You can take the check right now and never have to step foot in this place again." He finally lifted his gaze. It's soft and sombre. "Which I guarantee is what you're going to want to do anyway," he sighed.

I observed him for a second, wondering what is going through his mind right now. He looks so conflicted and frustrated and sad.

"No one has bothered to give you a choice, find out whether you're comfortable with this. Elena and Caleb knew and they chose to keep this from you." He ground his teeth together. He placed his hands on the desk, and leaned forward, putting his weight onto them. "If I'd have known, I never would have approached you. I'm normally good at reading these situations but you… you throw everything off balance."

I fell back into my chair, an instinctive feeling inside me saying that I'll need to sit down for this.

"What's upstairs?" I muttered, biting down on my lip. "I know there are rooms for hire, but what happens up there?"

His jaw twitched. He blinked slowly, pushing further onto the palms of his hands.

"Weird stuff happens up there, doesn't it?" I continued. He bowed his head.

"That depends on what your definition of weird is," he mumbled. "But for someone like you? Yes, weird stuff does happen up there."

"Someone like me?"

"An outsider," he clarified. He arched his neck and found my eyes. His lips curled. "Do you know what BDSM stands for?"

My mouth fell open and a wheezy noise escaped through it. He pressed his lips into a hard line and continued.

"It stands for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. This club is open exclusively to members of the BDSM community, and is a place where they can meet likeminded individuals and practice their fetishes safely." He told me, letting his eyes wander as he explained. "It is by-invitation only, so those who do come here were invited either by Elena or myself. They are people we trust, some of whom we have known for years. We select the cliental to make sure everything remains discreet. They are all made to sign non-disclosure agreements as a precaution, just as we made you sign one."

"I haven't signed anything," I shook my head.

"You were given a contract, weren't you?" he heaved a sigh, already predicting my answer. I shook my head again. "Elena… Fuck. I'll have an NDA drawn up and delivered to your apartment as soon as. In the meantime, I need your word that will keep all of this to yourself. You could ruin a lot of lives if this information leaked."

"I promise," I nodded frantically. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. I wouldn't ever…"

"Good," he breathed. "A place like this is bound with secrecy and trust. It can't function without either of them… There are six private rooms upstairs, all of them available for hire. The rooms are charged at hourly rates, the cost increased dependent on their specific needs and what equipment is used. We cater for all legal fetishes and will go above and beyond to help fulfil each member's fantasy. Or at least, that's what Elena promises in her brochures." He grimaced at the mention of this.

"She has brochures?" I rolled my eyes. He nodded. "Does she include coupons in it? All staff are half-price as long as you order in advance?"

"Staff are not allowed to engage in relations with members." He told me in a harsh, brusque tone.

"Abi told me what happens. They get asked into the rooms. You telling me all they do is sit and watch?"

"Yes, that is all they do," he nodded. "I don't know what Miss Bedward told you, but I can assure you right now that this is not a whore house. Any member of staff caught engaging with members will be dismissed with immediate effect. Staff are asked to observe and offer guidance, not participate."

"Offer guidance on what?" I asked after a long pause.

"When Elena opened her first club, she did it because people like us need somewhere safe to harness our skills. Pun not intended," he smirked for a second. He pulled himself upright and crossed his arms, his biceps flexing through his suit jacket. "Too many people jump head first into this lifestyle. They try to use the most complex apparatus and the most daring toys. That's how people get hurt, and that's how our reputation gets destroyed."

"You do this kind of stuff?"

"Yes," he said in such a matter-of-fact way. He said it freely and honestly.

"Do you enjoy hurting people or being hurt?"

"I'm a dominant," he tilted his head slightly. "I get pleasure from exerting my dominance on willing submissives. I enjoy being in control at all times, but everything is done with consent."

"And if someone says no?"

"No means no, there are no exceptions to this rule. Every couple chooses a safeword. It protects both parties. Once the safeword is used, all play stops. A dominant has to trust the submissive to use the safeword when they've had enough. And the submissive needs to trust that the dominant will stop when it's used."

"It must take a long time to build up that level of trust," I uttered.

"When you're both already heavily invested in this lifestyle, you'd be surprised how quickly things can progress. Haven't you seen them? The couples that are introduced at the start of the evening? They sit and talk for about an hour, and then they disappear upstairs?"

I thought for a moment and blinked slowly, recalling a couple doing exactly that earlier. They were musing over papers for a long time before one of them asked for a room.

"Why do you only have six rooms?" I asked.

"The more rooms we have, the more staff we need. We're trying to minimise the chances of any information getting out." He explained to me in a quiet voice. He stroked his hand across his chin. "Besides, it takes a lot of time to thoroughly clean each room after use. Not to mention dismantling apparatus."

"Do things get… reused?" I hesitated, wondering if I really want to know the answer to this question.

"Fixed apparatus is reusable – such as beds, chairs, cages. They are cleaned and sanitized after every use. The more intimate toys are replaced. They are used once and then disposed of." He pulled out the chair from behind the desk and dropped into it. "We ask that orders for equipment are made in advance, so we have enough time to prepare each room and to make sure we have everything already. Generic items such as clamps, spreaders, dildos and vibrators are always well stocked."

I gulped and licked my lips. Depraved thoughts ran through my mind… I've had dreams about him using toys on me… After one particularly vivid dream, I thought about investing in some myself!

"Have you used the rooms upstairs?" I wondered curiously.

Please say no, please say no, please say no…

"No," he shook his head.

Oh thank god…

"I have a playroom at home. I have no need to use the rooms here," he continued. "My association to this place has to remain private. No one can know that I have any shares in the business. I'm a silent partner for a reason. The last thing I need is for the world to find out about this -" he waved his arms around. "I don't want anyone to find out that I do this."

"Are you ashamed?"

"I'm ashamed of the world we live in, Ana." He shook his head and grimaced. "We live in a world where everyone is judged based on personal preferences. Whether it's because of tattoos, piercings, the way we dress, sexual orientation – the world is full of judgmental bastards, all of them ready to name and shame individuals who are even remotely different. This lifestyle doesn't meet the expectations of my career. My professional reputation would be ruined in an instant."

"Businessmen are supposed to be much older than you. You're already different," I gave a small smile and then dropped my eyes to my hands.

"Being young is very different from being deviant," he arched his brow. "I hate discrimination of any sort. I don't do romance, but I don't judge those that do."

I nodded back to him. I didn't have anything to say in response to that. I looked around the room, from the rug to the hardwood floor, to the fear-inducing pictures on the walls. Christian didn't utter a word. He just sat there, watching me. I felt his eyes boring holes in my temples.

I knew I had to speak. I had to ask the question that has confused me for weeks. I took a deep breath before trying to formulate a coherent sentence.

"You're the reason I was hired," I stated, this much I know to be true. He already confirmed this. "But you thought I knew about this, didn't you? You thought I was into this kind of stuff."

"Yes," he nodded. "I would have never hired you if I'd have known you were oblivious to all of this."

"That's why you backed off," I put the pieces of the puzzle together. "As soon as you found out I wasn't like you, you dropped me, you avoided me like the plague… oh shit, were you only interested in me because you thought I'd be your next sex slave!?"

"Ana…" he sighed my name.

"Oh my god, you did, didn't you?" I shot up to my feet once again and stepped away from the desk. "You thought you could –"

"Stop!" he snapped, growling at me. "I didn't hire you because I wanted to fuck you. I hired you because I felt sorry for you."

My stomach dropped…

I don't know what's worse: the idea of being hired to be a glorified prostitute, or being hired because someone took pity on me and my pathetic life.

He rose from his chair and came towards me, closing the gap within seconds. He took my jaw between his hands, his thumbs quickly soothing over the corners of my mouth.

"I hired you because I saw how much you wanted this job. How much you needed it," he whispered. He bent his knees and brought himself to my level. "I saw how upset you were when Elena dismissed you. You could hardly look up at me as you ran out of the building… I followed you outside. You were crying and alone and you decided to walk home –"

"I didn't have enough money to get the bus," I told him the truth. He shook his head and pursed his lips again.

"I didn't want to approach you and offer you a ride, because I didn't want to scare you. I followed you in my car, just until you got home. I had to know you were safe." He leaned forward an inch. "When I saw you crying, something happened to me. I've never been affected by anything or anyone the way I did when I saw you that day… I have never overstepped the mark with employees. Before you, that is."

I ran my tongue across my lower lip.

"Nothing I have done was an attempt to seduce you into my bed," he assured me. "I gave you the money and paid for your car repairs because I wanted to – I wanted to make sure you were okay. I just didn't want to see you cry again," he dropped his head forward and pressed it to mine.

"Ms Lincoln said you got what you wanted when I was hired," I said quietly. "I don't understand what she meant…"

"I forced her to hire you. I said I would sell my shares if she didn't." He told me, gently rubbing his cool forehead against my own. "She assumed it was because I wanted you to be my submissive."

"And do you?" I looked up into his eyes. They're so close to mine, and so full of beauty.

"I don't know what I want anymore," he shook his head. "I just know that I can't keep away from you. I think about you all the time. I think about kissing you, having you over and over again… I've never felt like this before. I am hard every time I think of you."

His lips moved effortlessly as he spoke, each word enticing me more than the last. I wanted to press forward and steal a kiss like before. I am aching for him, but I need to see it for myself…

"Can you take me upstairs?" I leaned my head back. He frowned at me, his brows lowering around his eyes. "Please? I have to see it for myself."

He inhaled a long, slow breath and then removed his hands from my face. He made his way to the door and opened it, holding it for me. He remained a few paces behind me at all times, letting me take the reins. The staircase felt like my Everest when I finally started to climb it. It was strange and unnerving to grip the rail and drag myself up to the top floor. I know I shouldn't be doing this. Even though Christian has agreed to show me, it will piss Cal off if he finds out. He'll be furious. And so will Ms Lincoln.

I could lose my job!

The top floor is home to a womb like vestibule. It's circular, with no sharp edges or corners. There is a small bar in the middle of the room, with a series of velvet armchairs dotted around a Persian rug. There are no mirrors up here. Just seven dark wood doors – three on each side of the bar, and one behind it. There are no sconces on the walls, no means of light except for the overbearing chandelier above us. It looks like raindrops are trickling from the ceiling, its crystals disrupted by the crimson of the walls. I can't look at it for more than a few seconds. It looks like blood…

"All of the rooms are the same, they're just mirror images of each other," Christian told me as he approached my side. He stood patiently next to me. I twisted my head to look at him, finding his eyes straight ahead. He pointed to the door behind the bar. "That's the store room. It's where all of the equipment is kept."

"Okay," I nodded. I'm glad he didn't suggest giving me a tour of that room. He, instead, gestured to room number six, taking me over to it.

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and shoved the first one he came to into the lock. He pushed the door open and stood to one side. "Ladies first."

"I think you should go in first," I shook my head. I pulled on the belt around my waist, tightening it around myself.

He didn't kick up a fuss. He entered the room without hesitation, pausing patiently on the other side, waiting for me to join him.

The most heinous of things popped up on my head. I imagined torture chambers and phallic shaped instruments and devices that could have been used in Medieval England. I pictured emptiness and black everyone. I imagined a dungeon – disgusting, dirty and dank.

But what I found in room number six was the exact opposite. The first thing that struck me was the smell: freshly cut roses and sandalwood. It was welcoming and drew me into the room.

Like the hallway outside, the room is circular in shape, but is made up of a monochrome colour scheme. The signature Maîtrise red is artfully placed in the form of vases that hold the stark white roses omitting the wonderful scent. There are three large, decorative mirrors spaced around the wall, giving a 360 view of the room no matter where I stand. I see Christian in all of them. But, for once, he isn't the main focus of the room.

There is a large, four poster bed in the centre of the room. There are no sheets, pillows or comforters on it – just a wipe clean mattress in black. From each of the four posts is a red tie hanging down the side of the bed. It didn't take a genius to work out what they're for.

I scanned the room for anything crude, but nothing is on immediate show. There are several antique cabinets around the room, probably home to everything anyone could ever need. I wonder if there's a map provided in the brochures – a how-to guide to find everything…

"It looks so… normal…" I mumbled. "I thought it'd be darker than this."

"Elena designed everything. She wanted it to be feminine." He nodded. "Not many of us go for the sex dungeon look."

I stepped forward and turned, looking to the door side of the wall. There are four large racks hanging, with an array of different tools perched, ready for use. Some of them are made of wood, metal, leather… I recognise some of them… riding crops, whips, even a series of feathers.

I shook my head at them, feeling uncomfortable. I rounded the wall and approached one of the cabinets. I reached out and hesitated just shy of the handle. I looked into the mirror directly in front of me, staring into the reflection of Christian as he stepped closer. He hovered over my shoulder.

"You can look inside, if you want." He nodded to the cabinet. "You won't hurt yourself."

I slowly pulled on the small white handle, cautiously opening the drawer. But I immediately slammed it shut when I saw a giant, black, penis… thing!

"That's for –"

"I don't need to know what it's for!" I held my hand up to silence him. I shuddered, thinking about how much pain that thing must inflict.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Christian pleaded. I looked up and saw his sombre face in the mirror, just over my right shoulder. "I can't read you."

"I'm… confused." I dipped my chin. I lifted my hands to my face. "I didn't think this was happening."

"That's what we wanted. We wanted to make sure you were oblivious to it all."

"Then why are you telling me this now?" I spun on my heels to face him. "Why now?"

"Because I want you," he said with such force I felt winded. "I need you. I can't stay away from you… and I can't have you unless you know what's going on here."

"I'm not like this," I shook my head. "You know that."

"I have to have you –"

He lunged and slipped his fingers around the back of my neck. He cupped the back of my head, holding me still while he worked my mouth. His lips sealed over mine, his tongue darting into my mouth at rapid speed, thrusting hard and fast. He stepped forward, pressing me against the cabinet. The handles dug into my body in all the right places, exciting soft groans from deep within my chest.

"I want to kiss every inch of your body," he panted through kisses. "I want to be buried deep inside you."

"Hmm…"

He kissed me with an eagerness I have never experienced before. I can feel his need for me… I can feel him hardening against my abdomen. His fingers started to massage my scalp.

"Tell me you feel the same…" he begged. His lips started to shift from mine, sucking their way down the length of my neck. "Please..."

"Yes…" I moaned.

"Can you walk in those heels?" he murmured into my ear before taking my lobe between his teeth.

"Huh?" I jerked my head back. I narrowed my eyes at him. "W-What?"

"Can you walk in those heels?" he repeated.

"Erm, yeah…" I glanced to my feet. My toes feel a tad on the sore side. "Not very far, though."

"Not a problem. We're not going far." He smirked and smacked another kiss to my mouth. "Come. Quickly."

Christian grabbed my hand and yanked me forward, pulling me out of the room and back into the hallway. He didn't bother to shut the door behind us; he gripped my hand hard and moved us swiftly towards the staircase. My hand only just made it onto the rail as we started to descend at lightning speed. I stumbled a little as we crashed back onto the ground floor.

"Wait here," he ordered, depositing me next to the bar.

I didn't have time to say anything in return. He turned and powered through into the office, disappearing for several minutes. I heard him rummaging around, moving things, dropping things, before he came storming back to me. His designer shoes struck heavily against the floor, his steps mimicking the pounding of my heart.

His eyes were heated and dark and intense… his broad, sculpted body excreted power and sex – a combination that teased my throbbing apex. I heaved as my eyes roamed the length of him, right down to his fingers.

"What's in the bag?" I asked tensely, looking at the navy holdall he's carrying.

"My gym clothes," he grunted. "I planned on going for a run after closing."

"Oh…" I gulped. "You still planning on doing that?"

"Oh I think you're all the exercise I'm going to need, baby."

I squeezed my thighs together.

He came to me and pushed his hand to the base of my spine, urging me forward again. He guided me to the staff room door, taking me straight to the exit, our steps undisturbed and in unison. I welcomed the crispy air against my flushed cheeks.

Christian growled, grabbing my hand, pulling me back to him as I started walking away from the door. He shoved me against the building, holding me with his hand flat to my stomach and his hips pushing into mine. He slowly teased his tongue against the seam of his mouth.

He stared me out. He didn't need to look at the keypad in order to enter in the code for the shutters. He didn't bother to look around before kissing me again and grinding his hips into me, making me feel even inch of his erection.

"Let's go," he suggested, tugging me away from the cool metal behind me. He took my hand in his again and slipped his fingers between the gaps of mine.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to ignore the way he's rolling his fingers against mine, constantly reminding me as his presence. He's taking me towards the exit of the lot, manoeuvring me past Wanda.

"My apartment," he grunted. "I only live ten minutes from here."

"What about my car?" I twisted my head back to Wanda.

"It's quicker to walk," he shook his head, continuing with his perfect stride. "It'll be safe here. It's a secure lot. I'll have my driver bring it to my apartment later."

"Your apartment?"

I came to an abrupt halt as the realisation washed over me like icy water dripping down my spine. The force of my falter caused me to yank him to a stop, too. He frowned, confused.

"Your apartment?"

"Yes," he nodded, still frowning. "We can't do what I want in public… unless you feel like spending the night inside a jail cell. Personally, I'd rather spend the night inside you."

"Oh…"

He took a step towards me and lifted his hand to my cheek, stroking my skin with both his and my fingers. "If you don't want to do this, you need to tell me."

"Your apartment is ten minutes from here?" I asked, looking off to the concrete jungle of skyscrapers nearby.

He nodded.

"Can we get there in five?" I panted.

I jumped forward and gripped his neck, yanking him to my mouth. He grinned and appeased my kiss for a second, before splitting us and continuing on his mission. I giggled as we picked up pace and turned off into the adjacent street at the back of the lot. My insides churned with excitement at the very thought of what's coming next.