Fifty Shades of Wrong – Ch 9
Hey there. I apologize for the delay. I'll post the next chapter soon. I will do my best to get it to you within a week, but I can't promise this time. This chapter is a quickie. Enjoy ;)
Christian flings the duvet over my naked body and feverishly stomps into his boxers, and then his pants. His glare does not move from the dark figure in the corner. How long was Bradly watching us? Did he see everything? The flogging? Christian taking me from behind?
Humiliation washes over me and pins me to the bed. I bury my head in the covers. How could I have let this happen?
I can only see Bradly's silhouette in the dim light. Although I'm sure he can see everything as Christian and I are right under the small pool of light from my bedside lamp. I'm still baffled that Bradly even managed to sneak in here undetected in the first place. Although it was dark from Christian turning the lights out. My little bedside lamp can only light so much space. And Christian and I were too lost in each other to notice we weren't alone.
I look at the clock. It's two thirty in the morning. Yet, I'm too floored by Bradly's intrusion to be tired; however, I am thankful that it's Saturday night. It means I don't have to work tomorrow, and I can spend the day recovering from my humiliation.
"You're a sick bastard!" Christian rebukes Bradly as he shoves into his shirt.
I've never seen Christian like this. I never would have thought anything could knock him off his balance.
"Says the one who gets off on beating the woman he loves. Aren't you one to talk." Bradly rises from the chair. "Besides, you're the one having an affair with my fiancé. Don't you think I have more of a right to be here than you do? If anything, I should be kicking you out."
Our observer walks toward the door. Oh good—I sigh in relief—he's leaving. Christian and I can figure out what to do in privacy. But too quickly, I find out I'm wrong.
Bradly stops at the door and flips on the light switch, exposing every corner of the room.
My entire body heats with humiliation all over again. I clench the duvet up to my neck.
"You will regret this," Christian promises. "She does not belong to you—she never has!"
"Like I told Ana. If anyone's going to bed her, I will get a front row seat. And I have, so thank you." He bows at us, waving his cell phone. "It was a…stimulating show."
"GET OUT!" Christian, giving up on his shirt buttons, advances on Bradly, who steps back, his hands up in surrender.
"Say no more, my friend. I'm leaving." Then he flicks me a quick look, and a dark wink. "See you later," he promises, and he's out the door before Christian can land a hand on him.
But Christian doesn't hesitate. He follows Bradly, who's now running through the apartment.
I fling the cover off me, my heart pounding, and fly into my clothes, locating them piece by piece, strung about here and there. When I turn around, I find Kate standing in the doorway, half awake and wrapped in the blanket I covered her with.
"What's going on? I just saw two men fly through the house. Was that…Christian…chasing…Bradly?" she seems to be working it out as she says it.
"It's a long story. I'll tell you later," I say hurriedly, shrugging into my pajama top and buttoning it up as fast as I can. I race through the apartment, down the steps and out the building's entrance. I'm too late.
Bradly's gone and Christian's on the curb ripping at his hair.
"Did he get a video?" he demands when he sees me.
I shrug that I don't know, the very possibility of it anchoring my stomach in my bowels.
"I'll find out." Christian takes my hand in his and we return to the apartment. "Then, I'm going to ruin him. You'll never be bothered by him again."
By the time we return to the apartment, Kate has already retired to her bedroom. Neither Christian nor I can sleep, try as we might. Finally, at about four-thirty in the morning, Christian excuses himself to go take care of whatever plot he'd spent the last two hours conjuring.
I don't ask.
Finally, as dawn slivers through the slits in my blinds, I fall into a restless sleep that takes me through to the afternoon, when I finally spill all to Kate over wine and cheese in the kitchen.
She listens, though she's somewhat pensive. She truly hasn't been the same since she and Elliot broke it off—for what reason, I don't even remember.
I don't hear from Christian all day. That's probably a good thing, however, it does make me worry.
I call it a night earlier than usual and Monday's here way too early. I bolt out of bed, then sag when I remember the humiliating events of the weekend. And I enter the office with a fair amount of paranoia, skulking past my boss's office. Why are people looking at me? Has Bradly said something?
No, he wouldn't do that…would he? I don't really know him anymore, if I ever did at all.
As I close myself in my office under the pretense of having lunch at my desk while I finalize the next issue's lineup, I settle into my chair and try to focus.
My desk is situated so that I can take advantage of the views of Pike's Place Market below and the Puget sound beyond. Though it's not quite like Christian's panoramic view of the city from his executive position in the sky, I do enjoy watching the bustling scene below.
We're a small building, one of the earlier ones built near Pike's Place. Which means it's cold in the winter and hot in the summer because the insulation hasn't been updated.
I set my lunch bag on my desk and absently sift through the small stack of short stories. But I can't concentrate.
I pad over to the window. There may or may not be a video out there of Christian flogging me and taking me from behind. As I haven't heard from Bradly, I can't assume he's just going to let it go. From what I know of him, he doesn't just let things go.
When I return to my desk, I find I'm not alone in my office.
"Anastasia Steele…" The voice behind me snakes up my goosepimpling body and into my ears. "How many times must I tell you to eat?"
I flip around, and fall into the arms of the man I love. "When did you get here?"
"Just now. If you weren't so preoccupied with not eating your lunch, you might have noticed me."
Christian immediately engages my lips in his passion, his desperate tongue roiling around with mine.
I try to withdraw. "Christian, we can't do this here."
"Don't worry, I locked the door. I told you, you're to be available whenever I want you."
"What did you find out—is there a video?"
"Don't worry about it," he breathes against my mouth. "There's nothing he can do to us. We belong together."
"That's it?" I question, pulling away. "We're just going to let him get away with that?"
"We'll let him think he's getting away…" he explains. "Right now, though, I need a distraction. He presses his erection into me.
"Christian—"
"Shh… Ana. You need this distraction, too. I can see it all over your worried, little face. Just a quickie—" he unbuttons his pants, dropping them with his boxers to the floor.
Instinctively, I reach for him. His penis hardens even more in my hand.
Unbuttoning me as he goes, his kisses work their way down my chest. But he's not interested in foreplay, not today. He needs the distraction, he said. I decide to take care of him.
I push him onto his back on my desk, only slightly surprised that he lets me. He rests his head on the stack of submissions I was thumbing through and watches me undress. I revel in the delight on his face as I wiggle out of my slacks and let them fall to the floor.
I climb over him, standing with my legs astride him to let him roll my panties down my legs. I think he likes it, judging by the smirk on his perfectly crooked lips. I lower myself and slide onto him, slurping him in with glorious ease.
Waves of sizzling energy ripple through me. Such fullness inside me… Using my leg muscles, I glide up to the tip of his head, drinking in the satisfaction plastered on his face. Then I plunge down his length. I quicken my pace, and soon I'm in a ravenous grind, an addict fiending for my fix.
He matches my tempo, lifting himself forward, my breasts swaying in his eager face as his lips latch on to a nipple. He tugs at it, hardening it with his teeth. The sensation is crippling, sending me over the edge, as his hands skim down my waist and over my hips, reaching around to my bottom, where he kneads my cheeks erotically. I continue to ride him.
I moan softly, careful not to draw unwanted attention from anyone outside my door.
Then Christian breaks from my clutch, peeling my hungry palm from his swelled chest, and hoists me off him without any apparent effort whatsoever.
"Hey, wha—"
"Shhh… lie down," he orders softly. After a brief scrutiny, I obey his command, settling my back onto the hard, cold desk. On his knees, he spreads my legs, his eyes widening with greed, and he scoots in close. Lowering himself over me, elbows on either side of my head, he inserts himself fully on a groan. Mmmm… there's that fullness again…
And he begins slow, tortuous plunges, his pressure against my front wall, sending me into sensory overload. The pressure… oh, the pressure! FUCK! The sensations rise into my chest, spreading throughout my body—so hot, so light. I feel almost dizzy. He picks up his tempo, his thrusts hard, and my hips respond reflexively, wildly. I'm an animal with one single goal.
Then, he slows his pumps. They're controlled, meticulously taking care of my every sensory need.
"You like that?" He pants at my ear, his gyrations an agonizingly slow grind.
"Oh my…" I murmur through shallow breathing. He skims his hand down my curves and around back as my hips swivel. Then I feel it—his finger in my back entrance!
An inaudible murmur escapes my lips. So… many… sensations… down there! The pressure is hot and heavy. My breaths grasp for relief. Until he removes his finger, and his lips claim my mouth, his tongue dancing fervently with mine, possessing me, owning me.
Increasing his drives again, his breathing accelerated and erratic, his body begins to tremor. And all comes together at once.
Flooded by euphoric waves of heated pleasure, my body contracts, then…it comes full force, my orgasm releasing all the pent-up pressure on a long groan.
His eyes roll back as he ejaculates inside me, pulsing like the pound of my heart against his sweat-glistening chest.
"Told you it'd be quick," he whispers, twisting a stray strand of hair away from my sweaty neck. He pecks my nipple, then my lips. We kiss until a knock comes at the door.
We scramble off the desk and into our clothes. I scramble, anyway. Christian seems to think this is funny, slowly shrugging into his slacks.
"I'm with someone," I say through the door.
"Oh, sorry." It's my boss. I know what he wants. He wants my selection for the next issue. I told him I'd have it today.
I look over at the stack of submissions, wrinkled from our quickie. I'm still too distracted to think about work.
"Christian, what are we going to do about Bradly?"
"For now, we won't worry about him. You and I are going to continue our relationship as it's meant to me—between the two of us."
But I can't help but worry. I mean, I just broke up with the guy. Then he saw me having sex with my ex. And he may have recorded the whole ordeal. I have a sinking feeling that he's just getting started.
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