The Color Grey by Mary Pseudonym
Chapter Nine - A Distinction Without A Difference
Well, I had wanted to know the secret. I couldn't escape it now. The knowledge possessing me, keeping me rooted to the spot. Standing in that doorway, staring at what he had to show me, I will never forget the feeling.
It was beautiful, in its own way. The smell of pine and leather, the sensual reds and browns; captivating in its complexities. Taking a tentative step forward I let my gaze wander over all the room's hidden treasures, digesting each and every aspect. This is the first room in the entire apartment that has, to my knowledge, such ornate furniture.
It is also the only room, again to my knowledge, that contains medieval like torture devices. I slowly walk by the large wooden X shaped cross, which is fastened to the far wall, the mahogany it is made of has clearly been highly polished. The cuffs on each corner do not escape my notice.
I try not to look up, but I catch a glimpse of the expansive iron grid suspended there. It is hard not to notice it and all the implements that hang down like a promise of what is to come. I can feel Christian's intense gaze on me as I reach up towards a whip, sense his body tighten as I let my fingertips ghost its edge. Suddenly he moves powerfully into the room, striding over closer to me.
Moving past him, I let my fingertips trail along the red satin covered bed. It is clearly bigger than a king, with beautifully carved posters on each corner supporting the canopy. Surprisingly I don't immediately find the mood in the room oppressive. There is something oddly sensual about it, but I think that is the intention.
I sense him moving about the room again. I feel him come to a stop directly behind me. My body responds almost immediately. It is betraying me to him; it is recognizing its master. I wish I could hate myself for it but I cannot. This feels far too erotic.
"Say something," he says. His voice hollow, shielding his inner emotions from me.
"You're a sadist?" I say with a whisper.
"A dominant." He pauses and I turn to face him. We are only standing a few inches apart. "A distinction without a difference." I could not hold in the small chuckle that escapes my lips, which dies in my throat as we make eye contact.
"I'm sorry." I don't know why but a latent instinct in me makes me drop my eyes.
"Do you find me funny Miss Steele?" His voice sounds strange, not quite himself, almost more and less in control at the same time.
"On occasion, this definitely is not one of those occasions." I chance a look up at him. His face is stony, battle ready, but his eyes lock onto mine once more.
A silence descends over the room again. Without knowing why, I feel very vulnerable yet venerable as I stand in the middle of his so called 'playroom'. Now that he is standing before me I cannot bear to move away, the desire to explore nonexistent. I know the thing he has been keeping from me, the thing keeping him from me. While he is looking at me like that I cannot figure out if it will still keep him from me.
"Talk," he says as a velvety command, almost a prayer. I don't know if I can fulfill it. I take a few steps back from him, stopping just shy of colliding with the bed.
"I," I start to say but my voice falters. Where to start, so much to say. I grip onto one of the bed's posters, liking the feeling of something solid to hold onto.
"Anastasia?" The tone of his voice is heartbreakingly apprehensive. Here I am standing in a room of his whips and chains, and I suddenly feel like I am putting him through torture.
"Christian." It slips out of my mouth, just one soul crying out to another. Without much appreciation to prior warning, in my desperation, I draw my bottom lip between my teeth. Despite the current energy between us, I still feel my muscles clench when he groans lowly in his throat.
"Please, can we talk in the other room. Having you here is very distracting." His tone is clipped and he doesn't wait for my answer. Instead he moves swiftly back to the door and pivots to hold it open for me; switching the light off once I shuffle past, he locks the door behind us.
I follow closely behind him, unsurprised but saddened when he makes no move to take my hand again. He leads me back down the stairs and towards the lounge. I wishfully stare at my wine still sitting on the kitchen bench. I could probably use it right about now. He doesn't immediately speak when we are both situated on the lounge, close but not too close together.
"Guess we can crack that champagne now." The joke sounds hollow, even as I say it, but I cannot take the silence any longer.
"Good idea," Christian says as I he stands and disappears. Apparently he didn't realize it was a joke. Not that I blame him. I hear it popping from the next room.
When he returns, he hands me a glass. Despite what he has just shown me, I look on in amusement as he tilts the bottle and drinks straight from the source. When he catches me looking, he places it on the coffee table. He sits across from me, out of reach.
"Sorry," he says but doesn't sound it. " "Having you in there affected me more than I would have thought."
I don't know how to interpret that knowledge. On the one hand, it is flattering. It is plain to see that I affect him just as much as he affects me. However we have very different ways of showing it. On the other hand, my quick brain has already connected some dots. He said earlier he shouldn't have kissed me without my submission. Those objects in there, well they are for me.
"So," I begin but falter again. I still don't know how to start this conservation.
"Ask Anastasia," he says. Some of his natural sternness has returned, yet he is looking at me with patient eyes.
"You want my submission?" I say in a rush.
"Yes Miss Steele." I can tell he is suppressing a smile. "Very good." His praise, I am ashamed to say, makes my insides glow.
"And what does that mean?" I look down to where my fingers are intertwined on my lap; I have anxiously begun to painfully twist them.
"It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me," he says with his usually matter of fact manner. "As your dominant."
"Why?" My knuckles have turned white.
"To please me." Involuntarily at these words my head snaps up and I watch as a ghost of a smile touches his lips. Slowly he cocks his head to one side. "More importantly I want you to want to please me."
I stop my mouth from falling open. I very much want to please him. Yet I don't see why pleasing him means that I must be whipped and handcuffed. How would that please me. I take a long sip of the champagne, enjoying his surprise as I bypass the glass he has given me and grab the bottle. Of course it is fantastic.
"And what would I get out of it?" I say as I gently place the bottle back down.
"Me," he says with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.
"You?" He nods ever so slightly. Would he really be mine though, sounds more like I would be his.
"It will be a chance for us to explore the world of pleasure and pain together." A delicious shiver runs through my body. I want to explore pleasure with him, it is the pain I am a bit reluctant about.
"But why the need for pain in the first place?" I certainly don't need it, that need is all his.
"'It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure,' Anastasia." Quoting a French Philosopher, really Mr. Grey.
"Marquis de Sade." Almost too quick to notice, one of Christian's eyebrows shoots up in surprise before his expression returns to normal.
"Very good again Anastasia," Christian says with a satisfied smirk.
"Don't forget, I read." I feel very proud of my brain right now.
"This would be a relationship built on trust." He lends forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
"I trust you; I don't trust your need to hurt me." I mirror his action, bringing us that much closer.
"I won't hurt you." He doesn't blink, his eyes scrutinize me mercilessly.
"But you will cause my pain." He shifts back on the lounge and crosses his arms over his chest.
"I will exert my will over you," he says after a beat. "If you please me, like you have twice now tonight, you will be rewarded."
"I will, will I?" He stands and moves like a predator towards me. He sits next to me again.
"Yes." Now that he is beside me once more, I can feel the heat coming off of him. "But there will also be rules, rules that if broken will result in punishment." He shifts on the seat like he is uncomfortable. "Punishment, if I am doing it right, we will both enjoy."
"Enjoy punishment?" Christian clears his throat lowly but in the quiet room it sounds loud to my ears.
"So much so you will break the rules on purpose." Oh, I highly doubt that.
"So how do we build the trust required for this?" I am mildly touched when Christian suddenly takes my hands, making me stop my anxious fiddling.
"There is a contract we will go over, terms, limits." He releases my hands from his grasp but doesn't move his far. "You would be agreeing to be my submissive, I agreeing to be your dominant."
"What if I cannot do that, be that for you?" I look down, staring at both of our hands. They are so close, yet so far; just like us.
"It is really the only relationship I am interested in having." There is no sadness in his voice at this, only resignation. "The only relationship I am capable of having."
"So submission and contracts, that is my only option?" At least I cannot say he is playing games, he is laying everything out in front of me.
"The only option if you want to explore what is so obviously between us." Okay, there is the last bit of confirmation that he feels the same otherworldly connection I do tethering us together. "This is the only way you can have me."
"We couldn't even be friends?" Even as I say it, I realize it is stupid. I couldn't be friends with him. I want him too badly. This is the first time this has been a problem for me.
"I couldn't be around you and not touch you. I think I have proven that." He moves closer to me on the lounge. I shudder. Has he always smelt this good? Slowly, purposefully, he reaches out and fiddles with the end of my hair. I watch his finger as he twirls a lock around it. "Anastasia?"
"Yes Christian?" My voice huskily responds.
"You were doing it again." I must have been biting my lip again, I really need to watch that. He moves closer still, his thigh pressing into mine.
"What are you going to do about it?" That categorically proves it, I have lost my mind. How could I say that?
"Miss Steele," he says with a growl. "Careful."
"Okay. You still didn't answer my question though." His free hand snakes out, gently grabbing my chin and raising my head so I am forced to look him in the eye.
"Are you trying to distract me, there is still a lot to go over." He pauses; one hand travels higher into my hair, the other deploying its thumb to run across my lower lip. My breathing hitches. "Things we need to know before."
"Before what?" I shift in my seat, bringing our mouths closer. I want to kiss him again. I want to see if anything has changed now I know what I know.
"Before we can continue where you have been leading us since you spread yourself on all fours in my office." I don't even find the memory embarrassing with the way he says it. Finding it instead helplessly erotic. I move forward again. Our noses graze, our breaths mingle together.
"Christian." It is a plea, a desperate appeal. One it turns out he is incapable of ignoring.
He closes the gap, capturing my mouth with his. Within seconds, my lower lip is between his teeth. He bites down, hard. I whimper, which turns into a moan as his teeth release it and he begins to suck it instead. As I go to raise my hands to his chest, he breaks the kiss and moves away again.
"Anastasia, what are you doing to me?" His eyes are full of lust and yet he stands and walks away from me. I follow. I watch as he rakes his hand through his hair, pacing across the clinical foyer area.
"What is it?" I say as I draw closer. He turns and looks at me. I go to reach out and touch his chest but he captures my hands in his, pulling me towards him.
Once again his mouth takes mine. I can feel his need, his desire, all his emotions through the kiss. There is no resistance from me as he gradually starts to back me up. I gasp as my back hits the wall, the pain immediately blocked by the pressure of his body on mine. The reason for his discomfort on the lounge evident, his erection unmistakably pressed against me.
As I imagine the image we must be, practically dry humping in the grand opening of his apartment, I moan. He has my hands imprisoned behind my back against the wall. I am biting my already swollen lip as his lips travel further and further down my neck. He has maneuvered between my legs, creating an awe inspiring friction.
"Anastasia," he says with sex in his voice. I moan again in pleasure as his hands rip open my top, sending buttons skittering across the floor.
Within seconds of the night air hitting my skin, his red hot mouth and hands are warming me. I am completely at his mercy but as he cups my backside and grinds harder against me, I remember that I haven't been as honest with him as he has been with me.
No. I think to myself. This isn't how it is suppose to happen, not like this. If I had wanted it over with, I could have made it happen. I cannot let myself be swept away. Not when everything is so uncertain. Plus he would never trust me again if I don't tell him before we pass the point of no return.
"Christian." Even to my own ears, it sounds like a moan. My voice isn't coming out at all how I want it to. "Christian, please." Still not right. Even as I gasp in a pleasure I have never felt before, I struggle it out. "Stop." I don't think he has heard me and with the last ounce of self control I have I yell. "STOP."
With a speed I wouldn't have been capable of, his lips and hands leave my body. Our chests are both rising and falling together, mere inches apart. It is his face that almost undoes me however. He looks almost broken, wounded. It doesn't last long and then he is stepping back from me, staring off into the Seattle skyline beyond us.
"I'm sorry." My voice is soft, despondent. I was never able to hide my emotions very well.
"Will you please stop apologizing Anastasia," he all but groans. I suppress another sorry. Instead I walk towards him, I reach out to touch his back. He spins and captures my hand. "Why?" He looks like a lost boy. It is chilling.
"Trust right?" My question isn't fully formed but I hope he understands.
"You don't trust me." He releases my hand and stares back at me.
"I have told you I do, it is about you trusting me." Some of the dejected emotion seeps out of his features.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" He sounds anxious, unbelieving. I am touched by his inherent faith in me.
"Not yet. But if we continue where this is going, there might be." His gaze is so intense I shiver, but I don't drop my eyes. I don't want him to think I am afraid of him; I don't want him to think I cannot trust him. "You have told me your truth, I need to tell you mine." I shiver, this time from the cold.
"Can you wait one moment?" He disappears into a part of the apartment I haven't been in. When we returns a couple of minutes later, he is holding a tee shirt. Tenderly he pulls my ruined one from me, letting it fall to the floor. One arm at a time, he then places the tee shirt over my head. "I couldn't think with your beautiful body on display." I blush. I know what I say next will throw cold water over him.
"Christian I want you so badly but I don't think I can be who you want. Do what you want." There is some future where I could try some things with a lover but there is a big reason I am not ready for that just yet.
"Tell me your concerns," he says. With this kind of open discussion I can see how the trust dynamic would work and it breaks my heart. "Tell me what you don't like doing sexually, we can rule out anything you aren't comfortable with." Besides me submitting my entire body for his discretion he means right? Who am I kidding, of course I would be comfortable with that.
"That is the thing, I don't have any idea because I have never had sex." I let it hang in the air between us. Christian swallows audibly.
"You're a virgin?" Thankfully he doesn't say it like a dirty word. It makes me feel less like an oddity. I nod. "How?"
"I was waiting for the right person." I pause. "I was hoping you were it; sure you were it." I recognize that I am about to bite my lip again and resist. I know what it does to him, the last thing I what is to tease him with what he cannot have.
"But now?" His eyes are on fire, I can see the wheels turning inside them.
"I still want you like I have never wanted anyone before, but?" A look of understanding overtakes his face.
"But you need more than I can give." He nods ever so slightly.
"I know myself pretty well, and while I would love nothing more in this moment than to have sex with you, I would need more than to just be your submissive." My body is quaking. I know what I am doing, I am effectively closing the door on us.
"Which I cannot give," Christian says softly, sadly.
"So Mr. Grey I think we are at an impasse." I try my best to make my voice sound unaffected, but I can feel the lump in my throat.
"Quite right Miss Steele." He smiles dejectedly at me. I finally let myself drop my eyes from his intense eye contact. "Do you want to leave right now, I can have Taylor drop you home if you aren't comfortable being around me."
"Not unless you want me gone." I am too emotionally drained to even think about being around Kate and Ethan right now.
"I like having you here." I look up at him as his says this, his face achingly beautiful in its desolation.
"Well surely there is a spare bed, besides the super king in the red room of pain." I could sleep just about anywhere right now, besides the altar of BDSM.
"Red room of pain? It is really more about," he tapers off at the end of his sentence. "Never mind, yes I do."
We once again head up the stairs, after I have grabbed my shirt and jacket. Christian hovers near a room, looks as though he is going to open the door before walking past it. When he finally opens one, I am surprised by the pretty pink interior. There is a white four poster bed in the middle of the room and what appears to be an adjourning bathroom.
"Pink?" I say, trying to break at least some of the tension between us.
"My sister, Mia." He smiles affectionately. "She insisted on having a space in my apartment. I don't think she would mind you borrowing it."
"Thanks Christian." I smile back at him.
"If you need anything, just shout." He goes to leave. "Good Night then."
"Good Night," I say shyly as he closes the door.
It feels strange to be alone in his apartment. Not because of what I know about him now, more in spite of it. I still want to be close to him, get to know him. Surely he didn't wake up one day thinking about how whipping a woman would turn him on. I know he likes to exercise control in all things but this is next level.
Pulling back the covers, after I have removed my pants, I slip into bed. The comforter is plump and smells freshly laundered, oh to be a billionaire. I have retrieved my cell phone from my jacket and I go to look through the messages before settling down further into the comfortable bed. There is only one. It is from Kate.
*Don't think I didn't see Grey's slick R8 pick you up. Get it Girl.* I type out a reply. *See you tomorrow, I won't be getting nothing.* With that, I turn off the phone and place it on the night stand.
As I pull the covers up around me, I try to shut off my brain. No such luck. I know he said that this is the only type of relationship he can have, but he is asking too much of me. Just like me wanting something more is asking too much of him. I stare at the fluffy pink cushion on the chair opposite the bed, wishing things could be different.
I don't sleep, at least not very much. His scent is invading my nose, I suspect from his tee shirt that I am still wearing. I drift in and out of consciousness. My mind continually plagued by images of his secret room. Not all of these images bother me.
It starts softly at first. The little sleep I am managing to get is interrupted by the sweet sound of music. The beautiful, sad, music invades my dreams and drags me back from my restless sleep. Hazily I pull myself out of bed, following the sound to its source.
Wearing only pajama bottoms, Christian's chest glistens in the moonlight as he plays the piano. The sight is breathtaking, heartbreaking. I could have been his and he mine. What might have been, I think to myself from the top of the stairs. With a certainty that he hasn't seen me, I sit on the stairs out of view and listen to him play. He doesn't drop a single note.
After an indeterminable amount of time, my eyes begin to droop. As I lean against the railing, I let my entire body feel the soulful sounds emitting from below. When I stir, being carried by two strong arms, I am resting against a strong bare chest and the music is no more. The warmth radiating from him is pleasant and yet saddening. This is my last chance to be held by Christian Grey and I am not going to let him know I am awake for it. With my eyes squeezed shut, I let myself relax into his hold.
Author's Note:
Welcome to the Jungle, we've got fun and games! This is the fork in the road I was talking about, but I suspect you all saw that coming! I hope it didn't disappoint! I am actually reasonably happy with how the chapter turned out!
Thanking all of you for your continued support!
All elements of the book remain the property of E. L. James.
~ M.P.
