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This story, again, is not to be taken seriously. It's meant to be outlandish and crazy and, yes, a little creepy too. Hope you enjoy nevertheless.

Chapter 10

"I think your assistant likes you," I say, a bit maliciously, as I move towards his desk.

There's a few papers on his desk already and his open laptop, but I don't care. I sit the grocery bag on top of the papers, pushing my hands inside to unload out the ingredients. Hopefully we won't get food poisoning since I had the salmon in the car for a little over four hours, but oh well. The risk of food poisoning is well worth it, if it means sharing lunch with him.

"I don't think so. Andrea's been employed at my company for over a year now."

Hmm, she's been working for him for over a year? All the more reason for her to like him... Not that I could blame her, of course. But I have a feeling things will get nasty for her very quickly if she persists in getting in my way of Christian.

I turn to look at Christian while he stands there as I start unwrapping the salmon from in the paper. He's watching me.

"That's a lot of salmon for two people, don't you think?" he remarks dryly.

"Maybe." I glance down at the huge chunk salmon myself. Okay, so maybe a kilo of salmon was going a bit overboard? "Well, I thought it would be nice anyway. Rice crackers with spread cream cheese and slices of salmon. That sounds nice for our lunch, don't you think?" I press my lips together as I search in the bag again, finding the stainless steel carving knife I brought with me from home.

Christian takes in a loud intake of breath. "How did you get past security with that thing?"

"No one bothered to stop me to check my bag. Not even the security guard near the entrance," I inform him, a little haughtily. "That's not very good, Mr Grey. I would seriously consider that you have a word with your buildings security team. What if someone came into your office with the intention of murdering you with a knife and yet, your security team did nothing to stop them?"

Wow, way to freak him out, Ana, by implying you intend to murder him...

When I peer up at him through my eyelashes, I see him watching me very carefully as I start slicing the salmon into neat little pieces, my hand guiding the sharpest edge of the blade along the pink flesh of the salmon almost effortlessly. He seems both amused and impressed. To be honest, I don't blame him for being impressed; I've always had wicked knife skills.

"And is that truly why you're here, Miss Steele?" He steps closer towards me, his lips pressed together to stifle a smile. His eyes are dancing, like we're playing a flirtatious game. "You've come here to murder me with that knife you're using?"

Thank God, he seems to appreciate my sense of humor. He doesn't seem to mind us joking about being serial killers.

"Not today, Mr Grey," I mutter teasingly, playing along. "I don't have that... homicidal urge in me today, so you can consider yourself lucky." At least, not that homicidal urge for you. Your assistant Andrea however... "No, today I'm just here for our picnic."

I'm kidding, of course. I'm not some crazy psycho killer. I can't even squash a fly or spray insect killer on a bug without mourning for it and crying as it writhes in pain and slowly dies afterwards.

"Is there something I can do?" he asks.

"Sure. You can spread the cream cheese on the crackers?" I suggest, jerking my chin towards the packet.

We fall into a silence, each of us busying ourselves with preparing our lunch on his desk. It's so peacefully domestic, and I can't help wondering if this will be how it is once we're married; I'll be the dedicated 50's housewife, slaving away for her hubby and enjoying every single second of it while he helps with the meal as well. Oh, God. We're like a married couple already...

He isn't very good at slathering the cream cheese on the crackers though. He's messy and he gets it all over his fingers- not that I'm not totally tempted to lick the cream cheese off his fingers, of course. It's obvious he doesn't cook very much or prepare his own meals. His buttering skills are lacking. But he's rich and no doubt, he has paid servants to prepare his meals. I suppose I can't fault him for that.

"Is he your boyfriend?" he asks me out of nowhere, disturbing our domestic silence.

Is he my boyfriend? Huh?

"Who?"

"The photographer that took pictures of me at the Heathman that morning? Jose?"

Jose? He thinks Jose is my boyfriend? Eww. The question alone leaves an acerbic tang in my mouth. "Definitely not," I laugh out, unnerved at the idea. "Jose's just a friend, but a really... annoying one."

"Are you sure he knows that? That you two are just friends?" His voice goes different; It's aggressive, somehow. "I've seen the way he looks at you. He's obsessed with you."

"God, no. Jose and I have known each other since freshman year. He's like a brother. And besides..." I hesitate, wondering if I should say it. A part of me suspects it would be a little too creepy for him to handle. But then I decide, what's the point in hiding it? "I've been sort of waiting for someone special. Someone in particular."

I lift my gaze, finding him staring at me intently. Does he know its him I'm referring to? How can he not?

"And who might that be?"

Oh, my God! I feel like throwing the knife at the wall, I'm that frustrated. Is he serious?

"I think we both already know the answer to that, don't we, Christian?"

You, I think as I stare straight back into his eyes. I've been waiting for you. For over eight months, Christian. I don't want Jose or anybody else, I just want you. You, as my husband, the father of my children. Just like how it should be, how it has to be...

You and me... together.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Christian?" I force myself to ask, despite already knowing the answer. Of course he doesn't have one, aside from me. I'm going to be his girlfriend, his one and only. It's only a matter of time now.

"No, I don't," he clarifies, sounding a little frustrated. "But its as I told you before. I don't do the whole girlfriend thing."

My fingers clench and tighten over the handle of the knife dangerously. He really needs to stop saying that.

"Why don't you do the whole girlfriend thing?" It amazes me that I can ask without sounding as if I'm angry.

He hesitates, seemingly stuck on how to explain. "I just... don't." He sighs loudly, shaking his head. "That just isn't... me. I'm looking for a very... specific type of relationship."

Specific type of relationship? What's that supposed to mean? Is there even such a thing that exists?

"Do you want children?" I ask, unable to help myself. At least I didn't ask him outright if he wanted to have my children. Besides, discussing these things are very important for any future relationship, right?

"That's a very strange question. I can't say I have ever needed to think about that before, whether I've wanted to have a family."

Wrong answer, I think.

"But something tells me that I would make a terrible father." Oh, Christian. You're so wrong on that. You're going to be such a wonderful devoted husband and father, both to me and our kids. "How many boyfriends have you had, Miss Steele?"

My heart races at the question. Why does he want to know that? Will he think I'm weird if I answer truly?

"Zero," I answer, because I know honesty is a very important part of a relationship. "I've really had... no boyfriends." I'm not game enough to look up at him.

"Oh. And why's that?" Fortunately, he just sounds shocked. Shocked and a little disbelieving. "How come you haven't been with anyone?"

Because maybe I'm nuts. Because maybe I get too attached and clingy. Of course, I can't put it quite like that, out of fear of turning him off me completely. But how to answer that without freaking him out? That's the problem.

"I'm not sure why I haven't had a boyfriend before," I admit with a little laugh. "But I think its mainly because, I know that when I'm finally with someone, I'll be diving in with two feet. All my life, I suppose I have been very... aggressive. When I like someone and I want them, I just need to be... around them every single hour of the day. I need to know everything about them, and I need to be close to them. I have to invest one hundred and ten percent of myself into whatever relationships I have. I suppose some people call that being clingy or... obsessive. I think its why I haven't had many friends, either. I've been told that I can be a little... intense and strong."

I feel my cheeks flush at what I'm telling him. Have I said too much? Probably, knowing me.

"And sometimes there is nothing wrong with that," Christian says, and it makes me feel like my heart is souring. He understands, just like I knew he would. He understands me perfectly. "I tend to get a little... like that myself."

"Oh, really?" I peer up at him, my interest spiked. "So you tend to get a little... obsessed about certain things yourself?"

"Yes," he admits, then he backtracks, tilting his head. "Well, not about people, exactly. But I know what its like to throw yourself into something, to... invest all of yourself and all of your energy into something."

Is he hinting that he's doing that with me? That he's obsessed with me?

"Like my business, for instance," he continues, and my heart sinks. Damn, so he isn't talking about me. "I am fully invested both emotionally and personally into my company. But then again, I think that is how every smart businessman needs to be. He needs to be fully passionate and committed about his business in order for it to flourish and succeed in the cooperate world."

And where do I fit into all of this? I think. When will you start being fully passionate and committed about me and us?

"Well, I don't have a business, of course, Christian. But that's... how I feel when it comes to relationships. So I think I can understand where you're coming from."

Something changes after what I say. I sense a weird chemical change or shift in the air as he lays the butter knife flat onto the desk, ignoring the cream cheese and the crackers for lunch. He steps towards me, still staring directly into my eyes, something almost sexily foreboding and menacing taking over in both his expression and body movement. What the hell is he doing?

It's as if the atmosphere between us has shifted somehow, that its filled with electricity and fire and danger. His eyes seem to darken as I lay the carving knife down onto the table, turning towards him. He reminds me of a predator, like a... a billionaire serial killer in a suit or a lion about to devour me whole. How sexy is that?

I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes drop to it, his mouth parting slightly. I hear him breathing in a ragged, urgent way due to it, as if he can't get much oxygen in.

"You bit my lip," he mutters, barely above a strained whisper. "Now I want to bite yours, Miss Steele. It's payback time."

"So do it, Christian." The words leave my mouth in a desperate, careless whisper. I'm taunting him, beckoning him. "Bite me then. Make me pay."

The inner Gollum in me is crying out, I needs it. I wants it from Master.

He brings up his hand to touch my chin, rubbing his thumb along my bottom lip, making me release it from my teeth. A sharp intake of breath leaves me, and I can feel my body quivering uncontrollably as I'm forced to lean back against his desk. My hands instinctively move behind me to rest flat on his desk, supporting me from falling when he steps in front of me. One shoe goes between my feet, and then he bends a little with his knee, making me feel him right there through my dress with his leg. It's lucky I have firm control over myself or else I'd be like a horny dog, humping myself against him.

This is like the best thing that has ever happened to me. My dreams have become such a reality lately, it's quite overwhelming. I've wanted him for months and now, here he is, so close with his body, touching me, his leg held up against me.

He strokes my bottom lip with his thumb again, and I feel the cream cheese he had on his finger smear against it. I open my mouth, licking, and my tongue brushes against the tip of his thumb, and I taste cream cheese and his skin. A shaky breath leaves him.

"You don't want to fuck with me, Anastasia," he breathes in a raw, hoarse tone, his breathing harsh and disjointed. "I don't think you realize how dangerous this game that your playing is."

"Right back at you," I whisper, and I moan when, suddenly, his mouth is on mine, rough and demanding. Just as it should be. I think I've fantasized about this moment over twenty times; him, wanting me so desperately, kissing me.

I moan again against his lips dreamily, and he uses it to his advantage in thrusting his warm, slippery tongue into my mouth. Christian's saliva- as I've imagined- is delicious, and I get so wrapped up in the moment, scraping my tongue back and forth against his.

When his tongue leaves my mouth, he catches my bottom lip between his, sucking, scraping with his teeth. Then he sinks his teeth into me viciously, and another moan leaves me, but this time its one mingled with both pleasure and pain. A sharp shooting pain sears through my lip and when he pulls back to peer down at me, I lift my fingers, dabbing them at my lip and hissing at the pain. My fingers come back wet and red and, surely enough, I'm bleeding.

He really did it, in biting my lip, giving me his delicious form of payback. And how hot is that?

"Mmm," I moan, my eyes on nothing else but his as I flick my tongue over the open split in my bottom lip all thanks to him biting me, relishing the sting and the taste of my own blood.

His face is slack with arousal, his eyes dark and pupils dilated as they stare at my tongue as I lap up the blood again. Ana Steele, the vampire masochist. He breathes in such a shaky, rapid way. I turn him on. I can just tell.

"You're a very strange woman, Miss Steele," he says, and it's as if he's jabbed a hole into my heart. My mind goes into overdrive at that. Oh, shit. He finds me strange? In what way? A good strange or a bad strange? Please be a good strange! "Quite possibility the most strangest woman I have ever met."

"Oh," I whisper in disappointment, turning away from him. Of course he thinks I'm strange. Why couldn't I just have held it in a little longer?

"But I'll be the first one to admit that I'm a little strange myself," he goes on, mainly talking to himself, I think. "I find you so sexy in an extremely kinky way. What have you done to me?"

It's like my entire body has lit up like a Christmas tree of hope. He finds me sexy? Did he just say he finds me sexy in an extremely kinky way?

"Now, Miss Steele. I want you to do something for me."

My entire body sits up and takes notice. Oh, Christian. You want me to do something for you? Anything. I'd do anything for you, even going to jail. Can't you see?

"Yes?" I breathe in excitement.

"I want you to go sit behind my desk in my chair," he says, and his voice is different. It's like he is ordering me.

"Um. Okay?" It's a weird request, but I do as he says. I move around his desk, sitting in his office recliner. It's really comfy. I could just sit in it all day. When I look up at him, I see that he is removing his tie from around his neck, sliding it off. What the hell? "Are you going to take off all your clothes, Mr Grey?" I ask, my intestines bouncing with glee. "Are we going to make love in your office now?" It's a bit unexpected, but hey, I'm perfectly fine by that. So long as he doesn't mind my legs being a little hairy under the stockings...

"Is that what you think is going to happen, Miss Steele?" he asks, coming towards me, the tie in his hands. There's humor shining in his eyes, excitement. "Do you think I'm going to take you in my office?"

I have no idea what's happening, to be honest.

I stare up at him in confusion as he stands before me, looking down at me. Then he moves behind the chair. "Put your hands behind the chair."

I do it without hesitation, and then he starts tying my hands up with his tie, really tight. A surge of adrenaline courses through me as I try to pull them free, the fabric chafing against my wrists in a pleasurably painful way. Wow, what is happening right now? I've admittedly daydreamed about Christian Grey, but not like this.

Usually, in my daydreams of us, he confesses to his love for me and then we do the deed. In many places; On top of the washing machine while its on, vibrating against my bare behind. In the air, floating towards the ceiling because we both have special powers that enables us to fly. In a car. Against a window while a long line of random people in the street watch us, thinking how perfectly suited we are to each other as we bring each other to orgasm at the same time.

Yes, I'm a little dirty-minded. But who isn't?

Christian moves around his desk, grabbing the cream cheese spread crackers and the sliced salmon. He assembles a few crackers, putting salmon on top of them. Then he moves to stand in front of the chair again while bringing one of the crackers over to me, looking down at me. There's a darkness there in his expression. I realize this turns him on; Me, bound to his chair with my hands tied.

And to be completely honest, while this is... different than any fantasy involving him that I've had, it turns me on, too. There's just a certain way that he looks, like a predator, a killer, that turns me on like nobodies business. My heart is pounding as he stands directly in front of me, so close that his legs are between mine, my gaze eye-level to his groin in his trousers because I'm sitting, him standing. He looks like he wants to murder me in sinfully delightful ways with... a cracker?

"I'm going to feed you now," he pants in a low, strained voice.

Feed me? What? Am I a baby or something?

My hands instinctively pull on the tie restraining them as he brings the cracker to his mouth, biting into it. He doesn't eat it, though; He holds a large piece between his lips, and it's so hot. He bends down, putting his face inches away from mine, and I'm panting. I make a weird squeaking sound when he moves close enough that the piece of cracker nudges my lips, and I open them. He pushes the cracker into my mouth with his tongue, and I am forced to eat it how I am, bound with my hands by his tie to his office chair, feeling very much like a baby bird being fed by its mommy bird as it regurgitates the food into my mouth. Oh, my. This is so unexpected, so oddly sexual and arousing.

"You want more?" he whispers after I swallow the cracker down when finished chewing.

My panties feel drenched, like I'm a pregnant woman and my water has just broken. There's just so much... wetness by what he's doing. So much heat.

I lick my lips, feeling like I have cream cheese on them. "Yes, please," I pant, my voice sounding odd and husky, as if I'm a chain-smoker with a three pack a day habit. "I feel that the cream cheese and the salmon go together extremely well, don't you?"

Twenty minutes later, when I get into the car to make the long drive back to the apartment with Kate, I feel so weird. My brain is swiped of literally everything, as if I've just had my memory or any previous coherent thought erased by one of the Men in Black character's neutralizer pens.

Wow. What the hell just happened with Christian in his office?

When I get home and pull up into the driveway, my mind is still devoid of any thought. I feel really exhausted and drained mentally- but in a very good way. When I get inside, I find Kate sitting on the couch, eating a sandwich while watching the TV. I feel like I'm all blushy when she turns to look at me curiously.

"Hey, Ana. Where have you been? Did you get called in to do a shift at Clayton's?"

"Um, no. I went and had lunch with Christian." I can't even look her directly in the eyes as I say it.

"What?" She sits up, her mouth popping open. "He asked you out to lunch, Ana?"

"Not exactly, Kate." Why do I sound so guilty? "I sort of just... showed up with lunch for us."

"Oh no, Ana." Ah, now I know why I feel guilty. It's because Kate is going to be lecturing me now. "How many times have I told you? Turning up at the guy you are interested in's workplace is total creepiness. You were meant to wait for him to ask you out to lunch!"

"Well, I'm very pleased to tell you that it went really well, Kate. He didn't mind at all. If anything, he seemed to... appreciate the gesture."

"He did?" she asks slowly, arching her brows in disbelief. "Well, clearly he isn't your normal, average guy then. Normally a man feels unnerved by that sort of thing. He mustn't play by the same rules as the regular guy then."

"Oh, you can say that again," I mutter under my breath with a little laugh. Great, I'm blushing again, all thanks to remembering him feeding me like a bird. I can just tell that I'm red as a lobster.

"What's with the face, Ana?"

"He fed me," I admit breathlessly with a grin.

"What? He fed you? What do you mean?"

"Like he... he tied me to his chair and fed me, Kate." She blinks at me slowly, her eyes wide. Kate looks weirded-out by that, which is something I am sort of already expecting. "It was so sexy!"

She chucks her half-eaten sandwich back onto her plate, making a face. "I don't get it. Why are you so thrilled by that? It sounds so... weird, Ana? But obviously you look as though you enjoyed every second of it?"

"And I did. I really, really did, Kate."

"I don't know." She shakes her head, sitting up to plop her plate down onto the coffee table, her appetite evidently gone due to the news. "I just really don't know about you sometimes, Ana."

"What, Kate? Are saying I'm crazy? I'm crazy because I enjoyed him feeding me lunch while I was tied up?" She shifts on the couch to face me, sitting Indian-style, and its then that I see the bruised, circular mark on her neck. "Um, what's going on with your neck, Kate?"

It's her turn to blush. Kate rarely blushes. "Elliot came over last night."

"What? How come I didn't know that?"

"That's because I sneaked him in through the window last night while you were sleeping."

Wow. Kate and my brother-in-law. "Is it serious between you two?"

"What? Ana, we basically only just met a week ago. We're just having fun. He's really good in the bedroom department, by the way."

"Eww, Kate. I really don't want to hear how my brother-in-law is in the bedroom department."

"Brother-in-law?" she repeats incredulously. "Wow. Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you, Ana?"

"Well, that is what he's going to be. Once Christian and I get married, of course." How exciting. Kate, my best friend, will end up marrying Elliot, and I'll marry Christian.

Talk about keeping it in the family...

Hope you enjoyed this one. Or is it too crazy? If there is anything that you would like to happen, feel free to let me know. Don't worry, Ana will tone down a lot in the next few chapters. She won't be totally crazy- as in she won't commit murder or anything horrible like that. She mainly means well, despite coming off as a Bunny Boiler at times. And Christian, he'll be getting a bit crazier himself. They both don't mind each other's craziness.