Chapter 11 – Fornication
CHRISTIAN
You know that moment when your deepest desires manifest in the flesh?
For me, that moment's finally here.
I could just let loose in my jeans right this fucking second as I tie together the wrists of Anastasia Steele over her head with her discarded, unlaced halter top. Here she finally lies…completely naked and at my total mercy on top of the duvet in my hotel bedroom. Fuck, she's so beautiful. I watch as Miss Steele pants uncontrollably.
"Try and keep your arms above your head for me," I groan my orders right before kissing her mouth. I move my lips slowly down to her throat. She gasps. "So…you said you wanted all of me, huh?" I challenge.
"Yes," she rasps, desperately. I travel down further, and my mouth, tongue, and teeth soon wreak havoc on each of her ripe nipples. Miss Steele cries out as I do so. I'm enraptured.
With my entire being, I want to fuck this woman into next Thursday. I want her to feel exactly where I was when she's not in my presence. I want to go so hard on her tonight, that she ends up hobbling around campus next week on crutches and unable to sit down in those uncomfortable WSU lecture hall seats. I want her sex constantly throbbing whenever she's lying alone in bed, to the point of her craving a hair-of-the-dog type of remedy – A.K.A. My Dick – to stop the ache. Then she'll text me, begging me to fuck her again that very night, and I'd simply reply with – Friday, Miss Steele. Friday.
But she's a virgin, and no matter how much she begs, I couldn't possibly give her all of me. She wouldn't know what to do with that much so soon. If she truly had a taste of all of me, she'd disappear. There's no way in hell she'd stick around if I exposed her to everything I'd hope to show her after she graduates next spring.
It's best to teach her how to swim in the shallow end first.
And then we can gradually venture off into the deep end.
She's wiggling and moaning out of control as I continue to suck on each breast.
Miss Steele has so much to learn.
"Keep your hands where I can see them, or I will find a way to tie them to this headboard," I groan in a sharp, sensual warning.
I'm expecting a stunned reaction from her. Instead, right away, she tries her damnedest to comply, fighting with all of her might to resist the foreign surges that her nervous system has probably never transmitted inside of her body before. Slowly, I'm losing control, but I know that I must be diligent no matter how badly my body wants to brutally claim hers. I can't be that beast that I want to be tonight. I don't want to scare her away from something before it's truly begun; and most certainly, not during her first time.
Grey, you need to locate that inner sap within; that same gentle asshole you've more than likely read about in all of those old books that Miss Steele likes so much. Find him and give her what she needs, and not what her mouth says that she wants.
I know that she's ready. She's been ready, so I gently roll off to the side of the bed to peel off my t-shirt. When my eyes reemerge from the lifted fabric, I catch Miss Steele gaping at me with sheer hunger. Idly, I wonder for a split second if she's taken notice of my scars, but I quickly discard the thought. I don't need that bullshit ruining my night.
After unfastening my jeans, they and my boxer briefs slide down together and off of each leg. When I stand erect in more ways than one, I witness as Miss Steele's eyes open wide in alarm.
Oh. Right.
"Don't you worry," I whisper to her. "I won't hurt you." Yet.
"I…I'm not so sure about that," she sighs with a nervous chuckle.
"Your body is more resilient than you think," I smirk. "Trust me. And besides, you said that you wanted all of me. But being that this is your first time and all, I'm going to start with the tip. We'll see how much you can handle. Okay?"
Still stunned, she gives me a slight nod. I'm a split second away from crawling back in bed with her before I get a thought.
"I take it that you're not on any birth control. I was wise to bring condoms."
I fucking hate condoms, but they'll be needed if we're going to do this.
"Oh," she gasps with wide eyes. As I prepare to turn on my heel to head towards my suitcase for the condoms, I hear her say, "I am."
I look back at her, perplexed. "Excuse me?"
"I'm on the pill," she says nonchalantly.
And immediately, I think – Hmm, that's interesting.
"I'm curious," I say to her. "How long have you been on the pill?" Yes, I'm standing over a beautiful woman who I've wanted to fuck for a whole month now, who's a virgin and just told me that she's on the pill – so no dreaded rubbers are needed, dangling a cock so rigid that I feel like I could bust a vein, and yet my never-sleeping brain just has to know why she's on the pill.
Were you always planning on fucking me, Miss Steele?
Or was it someone else who's hopefully out of the picture by now?
"Since late last month," she whispers. Her breasts sensually go up and down as she pants both nervously and desperately.
"Really?" I smirk. So, it might have been for me after all. The very thought pleases me.
She nods. "That day, Zion's management informed all of the girls that we had to get STD tested and then urged us to get on birth control if we weren't on it already."
The smile on my face wipes clean off.
What. In. The. Fuck.
Although I'm happy that she can't get pregnant, I'm severely annoyed that her former employer felt the need to make her and her female colleagues get tested as if they're running some sort of illegal sex shop. If Miss Steele didn't leave when she did, no telling what these assholes would have subjected her to.
I know right away that when the night is done, I am going to find out what would've happened to Miss Steele if she'd been stubborn enough to remain at that dreaded club. I want to make certain that she never even thinks about going back there.
"You know they can't do that," I growl to her in anger. "If they were to fire someone who tested positive for HIV, that's grounds for discrimination."
"I figured," she breathes. All of a sudden, she narrows her eyes at me. "Are we seriously talking about this right now?"
"No," I say as my mischievous smirk returns. "There are more pressing matters at hand." As I start to climb back in bed with her, she holds out her hand to halt me. I still.
"What about you?" she lobs. "How recently have you been tested?"
Her candor surprises me. "Well, if you must know…"
"I must," she sassily interrupts. "You recently got out of a…complicated relationship." I notice a tinge of spite in the way that she delivers the phrase. I crawl into bed anyhow and I'm soon hovering on top of her, propped up by my elbows and knees. Her breathing intensifies. I can't help it, I kiss her hard for a beat, then I immediately pull away, leaving her panting for more.
"All of my submissives are required to get tested regularly by my doctor per the contract that they sign with me. The same goes for me." I kiss her yet again with the same intensity and stop once more.
"Do you expect me to sign something, too?" she gasps before my lips reclaim hers. We soon smack apart yet again.
"Yes. A non-disclosure agreement. You can't tell anyone that you're seeing me." We kiss again. My hands dig into her lush chestnut mane.
"Yeah, I know that," she gasps when we stop again. "Dark will certainly use that against me. And there's my friends and family. I have no problem with signing an NDA."
"Good," I smile, kissing her again. A groan escapes her throat, setting me ablaze. My cock pulsates in extreme yearning. My lips journey down to her neck.
"What about the other contract?" she quietly asks. "Is it anything like what your submissives had to sign?"
"No," I call out in between kisses. "The contract I had for you was for a paid agreement. And as I've said before, I never pay for sex."
"So, it was a contract for just dancing?" she gasps as her body contracts in response to me going down her clavicle and to her breasts.
"Mm hmm," I grumble as I suck on her delicious breasts for the hundredth time tonight. I absolutely can't get enough of them…or her. Shortly, my hand journeys downward, testing the waters. She starts to move out of control, moaning; gasping.
"Baby, I need you to be still," I murmur in a plea while staring up into her deep blue eyes. "This is simply another dance. Just like that first night you danced for me, I'm going to need you to find the rhythm and try to get lost in it. Can you do that for me?"
She nods in deep understanding of the correlation that I just delivered. "If you want to add sex to the contract, I might be okay with that," she says, breathless. My thumb stills on her clitoris.
"You don't know what you're saying," I voice ominously.
"Yeah," she smiles. "Maybe you're right. Best to get past this first."
Her smile and words are contagious. "We'll see how you feel about it after tonight."
I insert one finger, and holy fucking shit – she's a pool of blatant desire.
"Ah," she groans.
I start with one finger, and later, two – all while massaging her clit with my thumb. Soon, she's moving her hips with the rhythm that my hand has set, and my hips can't help but to move along with her. My jealous cock rests just between her thighs as my hands and mouth do all of the work.
"Ohhh!" she cries out.
I bite her nipple as I feel her tight, tight sex start to contract all around my two fingers.
"That's it, baby," I whisper. I suddenly sense her bound hands shifting above me. My other hand that was massaging her free breast instantly goes up and stills her arms as she comes hard. I remove my fingers from inside of her and slide the moisture across my shaft as her orgasm continues to shatter her. As I glide upward to kiss her throat, I place my tip just at her labia. She throws her head back deeper into the mattress, crying out.
It simply boggles my mind how easily that this girl can come, being so inexperienced and all. It's the most glorious thing that I've ever witnessed. I adore how receptive she always is to my hungry tongue and hands. I ache to see how she responds to my starving dick.
"You want this?" I utter, teasing her opening with the head.
She hasn't yet come down. Her bound wrists are fighting my hold and her hips continue to wave up and down as she tremors.
"Anastasia – try and lie still for me, okay?" I tell her after a while. She nods frantically.
"Remember what I told you about the music? I need you to just lay back, relax, and just feel. Don't do; feel."
When I feel that she has relaxed well enough, I glide the tip in past her lips and towards her warm, wet center. She feels fucking amazing.
"Ah," she gasps.
"I won't go all the way in," I moan into in her ear before I kiss it, even though my spine is desperate to push all the way forward into this gorgeous girl. To stop that from happening, I keep a tight grip around the base of my cock. After teasing her, playing with her for a while, she gets lost and dances on her back to my pacing. I move my fist back, allowing more of me to go inside of her.
Oh, fuck.
"Ohhh," she cries.
"Baby, does that hurt?"
"Just…just a little," she trembles. "But don't stop. Give me more, please."
I gape at her. More? I don't ask any questions. I slide into her just a little bit more, and she cries out. And after playing inside of her for a while at this length, her greedy hips move upward, begging for more.
So, I give it to her. Another inch here, another inch there. And once her hips start to dance up towards my dick, I let in just a little bit more. Until….
"Ohhhhhh," she groans into my ear.
I'm all the way in there…finally. Fuck, she feels so magnificent and tight all around me. I could just sit still in her for hours and not even move. In an instant, a melody enters my mind and I begin humming it out loud as she did earlier in the front room of the suite. Suddenly, she starts to move in sync with the tune. It doesn't dawn on me right away, but I eventually realize that I am humming Counting Crows' Colorblind. I study her underneath me, and she is completely lost. I begin to move right along with her.
"How does that feel?" I whisper. She cries out. "Tell me," I order, thrusting my hips while holding her arms steady above her head.
"Ohhh…" she moans. "So…so good…"
"Mmm," I moan in delight, pushing myself deeper and deeper inside of her. Her legs lift until her feet land flat on the mattress, pointing her bended knees towards the ceiling. I fall further into her.
"Ah! Faster," she pleads. I immediately think – Are you sure? Yet my cock hears only what it wants to, so he delivers.
"Fuck," I call out before attacking her gaping mouth. I'm climbing in and out of her before her legs suddenly wrap around mine, clawing for more. "You want more of me, baby?" I whisper into her ear.
"Yes…ah!"
I move even faster. I soon begin to feel the sweat pouring down my spine. I look down in between her breasts and witness the sheen across the surface of her skin. My eyes journey downward through the gap between us and then watch as I crank her like a piston inside of a race car working at full-speed.
Holy shit, I'm really fucking this girl hard for this to be her very first time.
And she's pleading for more.
Is she really a virgin?
I continue to look down at where she and I come together and apart, and I notice a very light streak of blood present on my shaft. Yes, she's definitely a virgin. Yet when I glance up at her, she's not wincing in pain. She is somewhere where her mind won't allow her to feel anything but pleasure. I immediately go off the rails at the very sight.
"Oh, baby…" I groan, "…you feel soooo, so good. I've wanted you for so long." Both of my hands find her hair and grip it to the scalp. Her arms remain steady above us as I vigorously claim her body. She moans loudly.
"I don't ever want to stop fucking you," I grunt. Ever. Being inside of this girl feels just like heaven on earth. There is nothing like it.
Sweetheart, you truly don't understand how happy I am to be doing this to you right now.
"Ah!" she cries out.
"Oh yeah," I groan, thrusting with the utmost intensity. "I'm going to come so thick and hard inside of you, Anastasia..."
"Ohhhh," she exhales with her mouth open wide, appearing to be trying her very best to mask her true sound.
"Don't expect me to pull out when I'm done. I'll stay here until I'm hard enough to fuck you one more time and come again." Her whimpering gets louder. "Do you hear me, baby?" I groan. "I'm busting two fucking loads inside of your yummy goodness."
Damn, Grey…that's a bit much, don't you think?
Oh well, it doesn't matter since Miss Steele is beginning to shake violently after my words.
"Please! Ahhhh!" she cries out. Her insides commence to squeezing me hard. I'm spinning out of control watching her; feeling her.
"Yeah, baby. That's right…" I goad her through gritted teeth, not slowing down my stroke a single beat, "…come all over my cock. I wanna swim in you."
And boy does she come, letting out an earth shattering cry.
"Fuck yeah," I pant, not taking my eyes off of her as she screams. I don't slow down. Witnessing her pure ecstasy eventually does me in. I gnarr like a wild animal as I let loose inside of her. It goes on, and on, and on. I don't ever recall being this out of control. Hell, I feel like a snot-nosed kid all over again. It's only been a few weeks since I've had sex, so I don't get why I'm losing my shit so hard like this.
Maybe she's the reason. I shake away the stray thought.
As soon as we return back to earth, I kiss her mouth and she reciprocates. Her delectable lips and tongue reawaken my senses.
"So…how was that?" I smirk after our smooch. All of a sudden, her legs and thighs place me in a vice grip. I'm not used to having sex with such a forward woman. Well, not since… Right away, I stop thinking about her. She's ancient history in more ways than one.
"I'm expecting you to make good on your promise," Miss Steele says with a shy smile. And before I can ask her to remind me of what I said, it immediately returns to my remembrance.
Miss Steele – why you insatiable little devil.
What am I going to do with you?
I make good on my promise and stay exactly where I am, kissing her, teasing her until I'm ready to go again, which doesn't take me very long at all. I can truly say that Miss Anastasia Steele is the nicest lay that I've had in quite a while.
Maybe even ever.
ANA
My eyelids slowly flicker until I catch a sliver of light escaping through the drawn blinds. Damn, I really have to pee. Lazily, I turn over to the side to check my clock before it dawns on me that I am not in my bedroom.
You're still in Mr. Grey's hotel suite.
Holy shit.
I locate a dimmed clock on the nightstand and see that it's a quarter past eight. I sit up and look around. No sign of Mr. Grey. My eyes scan towards the bathroom. The door is wide open, and it's dark inside. I sit still, trying to catch any trace of sound outside of this bedroom. Nothing. I turn my focus to the bed, finally realizing that I am covered in a sheet and duvet. I don't remember us getting under the covers last night. He was my cover.
When my eyes look over to the empty left side of the bed, I spy a folded sheet of paper resting on a pillow. Oh no, don't tell me he ghosted and left me a note. I close my eyes and lower my head in shame. Maybe he went to get coffee or something? My head goes back up and I reach across the bed for the for paper. When I grab it, I see what looks like a personal check underneath it. My eyes grow big and wide.
Why, that son of a bitch! This is exactly what this is…he left a note and then ghosted me!
I reach over for the check and my jaw nearly hits the floor when I catch all of those zeros. Well Steele, it looks like you did go the extra mile last night. He paid you more than double of what he promised. Holy hell. I'm more in shock than elated, and not in a good way. When I start to read the accompanying note scribed on Heathman stationary, I can't but help feel as if I'm Darling Nikki from the Prince song. The note might as well had said – Thank you for a funky time…
Anastasia,
Thank you for a marvelous night.
This should help cover all of this semester and some of next.
Stay away from seedy gentlemen establishments.
You are a very beautiful and smart young lady.
– Christian
Is this 'goodbye'?
I think about last night when he was inside of me. How ironic of him, humming Colorblind, best known in the film Cruel Intentions, which was a more modern take on an eighteenth century French novel. In the movie, Sebastian begins to feel guilty when he's just moments away from robbing Annette's virginity under false pretenses. During his guise, he was starting to develop true feelings for her. Therefore, he could no longer take advantage of her with a clear conscience. But when a broken Annette sets off to leave town to visit a friend, Sebastian drives off to catch her at the train station before she does. That's when Colorblind begins to play. And when Annette reaches the top of the escalator and sees Sebastian, he tells her that he's in love, and they kiss. Then they finally fuck, and everything goes downhill from there.
As I stare at the note in my hands written in impeccable penmanship, I wonder if this is the moment when I lose my soul to the one who wrote it. Am I Annette?
"You are a very beautiful and smart young lady."
That's some shit an uncle or a teacher would say. Not your lover. Also, a lover doesn't disappear leaving behind a check for twenty grand.
Who does that?!
A pimp or a john, that's who.
But then I quickly remind myself that this is not what this is. This has never been that. Mr. Grey and I have always been in a client/dancer relationship – except now, we unwittingly brought our genitals into the equation. Damn it – this is getting to be way too complicated.
A month ago, I was dealing with the anxiety of not knowing if I was going to be able to remain in school. Now I have the absolute guarantee literally right here at my fingertips. I should feel a deep sigh relief. This dollar amount covers the remainder of my fall tuition and fees after the setback of purchasing a new car, as well as books and a portion of my tuition for spring. I'll be able to register for my final semester as soon as registration opens up. I am on my way to graduating on time with my friends. It's exactly what I wanted, right? This is why I took the job at Zion in the first place.
I could have never predicted how trading in one anxious feeling for a completely different one would make me feel even worse than I did before. Do I regret having sex with Mr. Grey last night? No. It was everything that I could have possibly dreamed of. He was tender, hot and sexy as fuck, commanding, relentless, and loving. He was everything that I wanted – or so I thought. But then he had to go and fuck it all up by leaving me all alone in his hotel suite the next morning with a check and a Dear Jane note.
Asshole.
CHRISTIAN
Twenty minutes after my five-mile run, I exit the steamy hot, much smaller hotel bathroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped tightly around my waist. I walk straight to my cell phone on the desk and check the screen. Good, I didn't miss anything.
When I left Miss Steele alone in my larger suite, I made certain that she had a full-out breakfast spread waiting for her in the dining room. I also have Taylor and the front desk looking out for her, keeping me informed if and when she leaves. Oh, and there's the GPS tracker on her phone.
In hindsight, I almost regret leaving her alone like that in the middle of the night. But in all honesty, I had no other choice. It was the only way I could get a wink of sleep. Well, I did catch myself nodding off as I stared at her sleeping for what might have been hours, but there was no way in hell I was chancing falling asleep with her in the same bed as me. Especially since my nightmares have recently resurfaced.
So, after checking into a lesser room, I decided to nap for a couple of hours before waking up and setting out on a run. I have a late breakfast on the way up, then I plan on doing some work before shuffling off to Seattle.
Hell, I probably should've included on that note that she's welcomed to stay in the suite for as long as she likes. But knowing her, she'll probably leave shortly after reading the note.
I can't help but dwell on the reality of taking Miss Steele's virginity last night. When I lay wide awake in bed a few hours ago, and when I ran through downtown Portland, and as I showered…the thought haunted me throughout. I know without a doubt that she deserves much better than me, and part of me hopes that she soon finds it.
I'm truly unworthy of someone like her.
Still, I yearn to stay in Portland another night so that I could witness her dance for me just one more time. But alas, I need to head back to Seattle in order to tend to some business over the weekend.
….
Nearly a week has gone by and I've thought about nothing but her.
As soon as I returned home from Portland on Sunday, I sent Miss Steele an email to her WSU account asking how she's doing. To my surprise she quickly responded, thanking me for all that I've done. And I idly wondered if she was thanking me for the check or for the fuck.
In between meetings earlier today, I called her just to hear her sweet voice.
"Hello?"
"Miss Steele, how are you?" I said, smiling.
"I'm well, thank you."
Damn, I sure do miss seeing her nearly every day – I thought in that moment.
"Hypothetically, what if I told you that I redid the contract and added a little something extra? Would you object?" I said to her.
"Well, I'd have to read it first. I know someone who'd take great issue with me signing a document before reading it," she teased.
Oh Miss Steele, you certainly know how to keep a man on his toes.
"Well, I guess I'll have to bring it to you in person Friday night. Same place, same room?" I proposed.
"Alright," she said.
I pictured her shy smile when she said it. But then she follows it up with something else.
"Are you going to escape out the window again in the middle of the night?"
"I didn't escape," I tell her. "I had something to take care of."
I could tell by her deep sigh that she didn't believe me. I guess the contract will just have to clarify to her that I mean absolutely no harm in leaving her alone in bed. It's simply a preference. Just like my rules on touching.
Later, I texted her before dinner, and she didn't respond. I was itching to call her but didn't bother. Maybe she's studying.
ANA
For the past week, it's been fairly quiet on the Zion front, save for a few calls from the girls. I really do miss them. I promised each of them that we'd all meet up soon. But for now, I don't have to work. My semester is all paid for. The remainder of the twenty thousand dollars resides in the bank, keeping warm until spring.
As far as Mr. Grey goes, I'm a little pissed at him. Not just for his note a week ago, but he didn't bother to respond to my last text or email within two hours of me sending it. I know that he's a busy man and all, but hell, he could've replied with 'I'm busy, we'll talk later' – but no. I'm still wondering if I'm seeing him tonight, or if he's now blowing me off.
I even learned two brand new dances for him and bought a hot little costume to go with one of them.
Then to my surprise, he finally replies to my last text after seven in the evening as I sit alone at the coffee shop.
I'm here at the Heathman. Meet me in the executive suite.
….
"I texted you as soon as I got it," he says as I remove my jacket.
My god, it's so hard to stay irritated at this man. I mean, look at him; he looks perfect in his dark jeans and light blue Oxford shirt unfastened at the top two buttons with just a light smidgeon of hair peeping out. I wish he'd let me run my tongue through it. I quickly table the lascivious thought.
"I sent the last text before I left the campus library." He gapes at me. "That was just before four," I tell him.
"I didn't get it until after seven," he says with narrowed eyes. He walks across the sitting area and towards the tall marble console where the wine is. He then looks at me and offers some with a simple head nod. I answer with a nod of my own.
"Were you in the air around four?" I ask.
He pops the cork. "No. I touched down early this morning. I've been working out of my office in Portland."
Hmm. He walks over carrying two filled glasses at the stem.
"Maybe it's time for you to get a new phone," he says, handing me a glass.
"My phone works just fine," I spout before taking sip.
"So," he starts after he swallows his drink. Holy hell, we are standing, so close. His delicious scent now permeates my nostrils even more than it did before. It's like an aphrodisiac. "I have a couple of things for you to look over," he says in that husky way that makes me weak in the knees.
"Yeah?"
"The NDA and the dance contract?"
Oh. That. When he turns in the opposite direction, I already feel cold as he takes his desirable heat with him. I didn't even notice the stack of papers that sat on the smaller end table by the sofa before now. He grabs them and returns my way.
"You want to sit in the dining room to talk this through?" he suggests.
"I'd figured you'd want me to dance first," I say with a nervous laugh.
His gray eyes take a slight turn. "We won't be able to do much talking once you start dancing. And I don't foresee much talking going on after you dance, either."
Oh, my. I'm nearly breathless. My shyness kicks in and my eyes slowly reach the ground.
"So, the dining room?" he pushes once more.
I nod and follow him over to the next room where I sit at the head of the eight-person table, and he takes the adjacent seat to my right. He then begins to shuffle me a single page.
"That's the NDA. It just says that you…"
I'm already reaching for the pen on the table as he's mid-sentence. I flick out the tip and sign right on the dotted line. "I know," I murmur. "No talking to anyone about what we're doing. Got it." When I look at him as I slide over the signed document, he's smirking at me.
"You didn't read a single word of that."
"I did," I perk. "I'm a very fast reader. And besides, you already told me what it was for." His answering expression lingers on disapproving and amusement.
"Alright," he prefaces as he presents the larger document. "Let's discuss the agreement." He stands and approaches my side. Leaning down, he places the deck right before me.
"I had to do a lot of revisions to my standard contract. A lot," he says, strongly emphasizing the last two words.
Nervous, I glance across the first page.
Anastasia Rose Steele will hereby be referred to as 'THE ARTIST'
So, I'm an 'artist' now. I stifle a grin.
Christian Trevelyan Grey will hereby be referred to as 'THE CLIENT'
"Trevelyan?" I say out loud before looking up at him. "Is that your middle name?"
"No – surname."
"Hmm…Trevelyan Grey," I mutter as I begin flipping from one page to the next. "Is there any BDSM stuff in here?" I inquire as quietly as possible. I look up at him for his answer.
"No." And although he looks serious, I swear that I spot a trace of a maniacal grin on his face…or maybe it's just all in my head.
"Okay," I reply nervously. "So, is this just me dancing for you?"
"Mm hmm," he says. When I study him again, his expression makes me feel even more uneasy.
"Friday nights? Here?"
"And Saturdays. And Sundays…"
I gape at him.
"I told you, this is a weekend agreement. Don't worry, it won't be consistent right away. I have some pressing business to handle back home for the next couple of weeks. But once that's all under control, I plan on being here in Portland every weekend. And if I happen to be in town during the week for meetings at SNA Corp, you must be available at night." I stare at him with even wider eyes. "Yeah," he smirks, "that's written in the contract, too."
Holy shit, is he actually serious?
"I thought that you said this was a 'weekend agreement'?" I lob at him mid-page turn.
"Well…yeah," he says with a tilt of the head. "But whenever I'm in town, I still expect to see you."
Oh. I have no witty comeback, because likewise, I'd like to see him if he so happens to be in the neighborhood. Silently, I turn back to the document and flip over to the next page. I read details about him covering the costs of my dance lessons, my costumes, and anything else that I'll need to do the job.
There's also a salary noted – eight thousand dollars for an entire weekend. Holy shit, I really don't need all of that money. At this rate, I'll be done paying for spring classes in less than three weeks. Three more weeks after that, my new car will be paid off.
I don't bother to argue the rate with him. Instead, I continue to parse through the next two pages. To be quite honest, I'm not really concentrating on the words; I am only looking for things that stand out. When I reach page six, something definitely stands out.
THE ARTIST is prohibited from engaging in any sort of sexual relationship with anyone other than THE CLIENT.
"Wait a minute," I say abruptly, "there's sex in here."
"Did you read exactly what it says?" he responds with chastising eyes.
"The artist is prohibited from engaging in any sort of sexual relationship with anyone other than…" He interrupts me.
"You are not allowed to have sex with anyone else, Miss Steele," he says point blank. "And you don't have to have sex if you don't want to. However, if you do decide to have sex, it should be with me." He says it with a sort of arrogant smirk. I gape at him.
"You can't demand that in our contract. It's the same as including sex as a requirement."
"No, it's not," he says in a way that defies his age.
Geez, it's like I'm talking to a four-year-old.
"You're paying me for sex," I say forthright.
"No. First of all, I am not making you have sex with me. But since we've already done it twice, I think that it's safe to say you'll keep on giving it up to me, regardless."
Is this man fucking for real? I mean, seriously. Does he actually hear the preposterous words that are flying out of his mouth?
"Second of all," he continues, "I broke the seal last week, Miss Steele. So regardless if you sign the contract or not, that nice slice of heaven resting pretty in between those luscious thighs of yours belongs to me now."
My eyes widen even more and with a gaping mouth I tilt my head sideways at him. No, he didn't just say that. At first, I don't know whether to be turned on or utterly appalled. Eventually I settle on the latter.
Just because you were my first doesn't mean that you'll be my last.
Jerk.
I'm witnessing a brilliant billionaire businessman flipping the switch and reverting back to a spoiled little brat. I am annoyed yet confounded.
"I don't need a guardian for my vagina, thank you very much," I hiss at him.
"So, you want to fuck other men?" he volleys. I spy a look of disappointment on his gorgeous face.
"I didn't say that!" I snap, irritated. "I thought that this was a dance contract."
He pulls the chair behind him closer to me and sits before gently placing a hand on my lap. "It is. And there's a list of expectations that goes along with it. Look…this is how I work. I don't think there's anything unreasonable written there. Like I said, I had to make a lot of changes. I'm not used to relationships outside of the ones that I've had. They've all been contractual. I require boundaries, Miss Steele. I hope that you can understand that."
So, he needs written rules just so that he can point them out whenever they are broken?
Man, this dude is so fucked up.
My head sinks at the realization. Yet, something tells me that he needs this. What I've scanned through really isn't deal-breaking. Yeah, I can totally understand that while we are having unprotected sex, I shouldn't be engaging in that behavior with anyone else.
"Does the same go for you?" I ask all of a sudden, now looking back at him.
"Of course," he replies, appearing to be borderline offended. "There's too much shit floating around these days for people to catch. You have to remain safe and smart. Therefore, all of my sexual relationships are monogamous."
Oh, so now I'm the 'complicated' girl. His use of the word relationship deeply concerns me. When I consider a bonafide relationship, I think of just being together and not needing to sign some contract with overly-complicated legalese.
"This is not admissible in court or anything, right?" I instantly chime.
"Fuck no," he scoffs.
"So why? Why do this?"
He swallows. "Like I said, this is how my mind works. I need a clear roadmap. And whether or not you agree, so do you."
No, I don't need this – I think immediately, but then I remember that this man is actually paying me to 'dance'. This is a payable transaction and Christian Grey is an extremely wealthy man who requires written justification for everything that he does. I'll never understand it, but those are the facts.
I flip over to the final page of the agreement and I begin to sign it.
"Wait," he says, but I don't stop signing. I then write down today's date in the slot next to my signature. "You'll still need to read and initial each page."
I then flip to the first page and start initialing it after a three-second glance.
"You don't have to sign it today," he says, his voice sounding very displeased. I ignore him and keep initialing away. Well why did you give me the document in the first fucking place if you didn't want me to sign it?
I restore the stack of papers bound by a single super thick staple before sliding it across the table to him. "Look, I'm in school and I've already got tons of other shit to read," I sigh.
He shakes his head and clicks his tongue while waving a finger, tsk-tsking me. "I've told you about signing things before reading them. Haven't you learned from Zion?"
"All of that garbage is just like the Apple iTunes contract that flashes up on your screen right after you install it. If you don't agree to the terms, you can't use the program. Same with Zion. Same here."
He chuckles in amusement. "Miss Steele, you make everything sound so simple."
I just sit there and shrug my shoulders.
Hey, what can I say.
….
I don't remember dancing for him and I can't recall exactly when our clothes fly off, but here we are once more. Everything else before this moment is simply a blur.
Now, Mr. Grey is throwing me onto the bed and then commences to ravage my entire body. I am a bundle of nerves and cluster of sweet sensations. Oh my god…this is exactly what I've been yearning for all freaking week. I've barely eaten or slept before now. My ability to concentrate in school without obsessing over him has been nearly impossible.
"If you lived in Seattle, I'd fuck you every single night," he gravels. I moan. "Tell me…did you miss feeling me down there? Are you wet for me, baby?" he says as he teases me just at the surface with his fingers. I gasp as I grip the covers.
Holy fucking shit – that voice! That sexy ass voice and those hot words that he says with it. And his extremely skilled hands.
Hell yeah, I'm wet.
He doesn't wait for me to answer. Instead, his fingers locate the truth as his mouth takes mine captive. "I loved your dance tonight, and your costume," he whispers into my ear. He obviously didn't love it that much.
I arrived here at The Heathman wearing a black trench coat, and underneath it – a red asymmetrical Latin dance dress with ruffles coming down the fold on the right side. The left side of the dress was held up by a single spaghetti strap. Believe it or not, I found it while browsing around a consignment shop, and it fit me perfectly. It's probably my favorite dress that I've danced in so far. Too bad it's the one that I've worn for the shortest amount of time. I wasn't able to complete my Rumba-inspired routine to Ain't No Sunshine. Mr. Grey's hands were all over me, and my mouth couldn't get enough of his.
Now we're here in the bedroom. And before I can even say 'boo', he flips me over on my stomach like a pancake, knocking the wind right out of me. And before I register what's happening, his mouth is right behind me, devouring my sex as he hums his satisfaction. It doesn't take long for me to reach orgasm, yanking the sheets as I cry out in extreme ecstasy. Likewise, it doesn't take long for him to grab ahold of my hips and hoist them up high before sliding into me – skin against skin.
Fuuuuucccckkkk….
….
The very next morning, it's like déjà vu all over again. I wake up completely sore and find yet another note on the pillow followed by another check.
Does he really want me to keep coming back here every Friday if he continues to do me this way? Reluctantly, I read the note.
Anastasia,
I'll see you next Friday.
Same time, same place.
I'll email you a copy of the signed agreement.
I enjoyed your dance.
I enjoyed you.
– Christian
For some reason, I begin to recall reading about how I could cancel our contract at any time, but what about him? Can he leave me just like he left the last girl when something better comes along? I shudder at the thought.
I never thought that I'd feel so lonely after finally having sex.
….
It's Sunday and I am reeling over the email I just read while having tea.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tonight
Date: October 24, 2010 10:17
To: Anastasia Steele
I'm back in town. Meet me tonight at 5:00 pm.
Best regards,
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
The first thing in my mind wasn't – Is that it? Is that all you have to say? No, that came second. My first thought was – Wow, he's back already and I get to see him. Never mind that I didn't practice dancing a single lick yesterday. I have a dance on backup, but I don't want to do that one. It's not sexy enough. It's just…cute.
I'd better call Betsy, and maybe I can find something sexy enough in Kate's closet to dance in. Perhaps that purple dress she let me wear to her older brother's graduation last year might work.
….
When I arrive at Mr. Grey's suite, he greets me with a kiss and a bag.
"What's that?" I say with a twisted nose.
"Put this on," he orders.
"But I'm already dressed to dance," I say, slipping my tan overcoat off my shoulder to reveal Kate's plum dress that I proudly 'borrowed'.
"I want you to wear this," he says, pushing the plastic white bag into my hand.
"But I want to wear this," I sigh, taking the garment reluctantly. "My dress goes hand in hand with the dance."
"Well, make what I gave you go with the dance – and if it doesn't, make up a new one." I roll my eyes and he clears his throat before zooming me with his narrowed eyes. "I'm sure that you carefully read in the contract you signed that you are only to dance in the costumes that I provide."
Shit, was that actually in there? Hell, maybe I should've read the whole thing.
"Did it say that you are to pick my music, too?" I reply, appalled.
"No, it doesn't. Maybe it should have," he taunts.
Gah…I can't with this man right now. I excuse myself and go into the master bathroom to change. I'm beyond annoyed. My routine to Norah Jones' Sinkin' Soon surpasses sassy and went perfectly with the plum dress. God knows what he has me wearing instead. I'm sure his wardrobe choice won't match up with the dance that I just learned today.
When I close the bathroom door and pull the garment from the bag, I am floored.
It's a beautiful, wrinkle-proof shimmery charcoal bandage-style V-neck dress with gorgeous layered fringe at the bottom. "Whoa" – I gasp out loud. When the bag falls to the floor, I hear a loud clank. My eyes narrow in confusion as I bend down to retrieve the bag. Inside are a pair of beautiful silver high-heel sandals. Damn, this man certainly knows how to shop.
After I change dresses and heels, I shimmy my hips in front of the full-length mirror.
Holy cow – the dress and shoes fit me like a glove.
How in the hell did he know what sizes I wear?
In the midst of my thoughts, I suddenly get a flash of inspiration as I watch the fringe sway back and forth across my thighs.
I am going to attempt my first freestyle dance in quite a while.
….
In the living room, I locate Splash Waterfalls by Ludacris on my brand-new iPod that I bought with Mr. Grey's money last week, along with a new laptop computer of my very own. As soon as the beat drops through the speaker deck, I am in my zone, letting the music take me exactly where it wants to.
Thirty minutes later, I'm stark naked on Mr. Grey's lap as he firmly holds my arms in place behind my back. His jeans are down to his ankles and I am riding his cock hard while his shirt remains on his back. Now, he's doing exactly what the woman in the chorus sang earlier.
Fuck, me…
"Oh my god!" I cry out as he pounds up into me, throwing off the pace that I originally set. Christian Grey certainly has a bad habit of throwing a monkey wrench in all of my plans from start to finish.
"That's right, baby…ride this dick. Ride it like a bull," he groans, gritting his teeth before he sucks on my neck.
He's fucking me again soon afterwards in the bedroom. This time, he's fully naked.
I don't know about him, but I am becoming more and more addicted to him by the second.
….
I sit in Joy's office Tuesday evening, extremely nervous to tell her all that I've been through over the past twelve days. How do you tell your so-called sex therapist that you are having relations with a paying client? However, said client isn't actually paying you for sex, but for something else that eventually leads to sex.
Speaking of paying…
"Is there a charge for our meetings?" I ask outright. "I'm sorry, I should've asked sooner."
"My god, no," Joy chuckles. "I never expected you to pay me. Betsy is a very dear friend of mine. And from the moment you and I met, I knew that you were someone special." Her words take me by surprise. "Normally I charge for consultations, but I know that you are a college student. However, something tells me that you are the sort of person who's more than willing to give something whenever you can."
"Oh my gosh," I say strongly, "absolutely. You better believe I'll re-pay your kindness in full the second that I am able. I've learned so much from you."
"I'm happy to help. It's why I do what I do," Joy beams at me. "So, tell me about this first time. Was it everything you dreamt it would be? Don't be ashamed if it wasn't," she chuckles. "Usually the first time can be rather…awkward."
I shake my head. "Not for me," I sigh.
Miss Joy tilts her head. "Damn. It's like that, huh?"
I have no words to describe the sexual prowess of the one and only, Mr. Christian Grey.
Hell, I wonder how he's like in that so-called sex dungeon of his back in Seattle.
The very thought stifles me.
"Well then," she laughs. "Has there been a repeat?" I nod enthusiastically. "Tell me about the first time, then. Were you nervous?"
"Very," I sigh. "But dancing first helped take the edge off. It also helped that I seemed to want it more than he did."
She gapes at me. "So, you pressed the issue to have sex?"
"Well…yeah. He wasn't planning on it happening. I'd just told him days earlier that I was a virgin, so that sort of freaked him out. But once he saw that I was more than willing to lose my virginity with him, the rest was history."
"Dang," she smiles. "You're a feisty little, mama, aren't you?"
Mr. Grey would most certainly agree with her.
….
I leave Joy's office building when it's still daylight out, carrying in my purse some Kegel balls along with instructions on how to keep things…um…powerful down there for me and a certain someone. Earlier, I asked Joy if there was any way that I'd start to get used to my partner's size, and whether or not he'd become too accustomed to me to the point of boredom. She didn't believe that would be a problem at this early stage, but she introduced me to the Kegel balls anyway. She explained that their purpose was to keep the PC muscles nice and firm.
"Just like any other muscle in your body, you need to work it out and
keep it tight, or else gravity may eventually take over."
I shudder at the thought. I have years before that happens.
As I walk down the university area which is by no means barren, I still feel an eerie presence over my shoulder. When I turn around my eyes land on a tall skinny young-looking guy with glasses. He's not paying me any mind, so I chalk it up to paranoia and head straight home.
….
Mr. Grey called last night to inform me that he'd be in town on a Wednesday for a last-minute visit. Since quitting Zion, I've been hanging around all over campus and waiting until after ten to head to the apartment. I always run the risk of bumping into Kate or one of her friends when I'm supposed to be at work. It's much easier to hide out on the nights that I have to meet Betsy at the dance studio. But today, it'll be my first weeknight that I'll actually be working.
Geesh, that sounds dirty.
Around six, I leave campus and set out towards The Heathman. Three minutes out, my phone rings.
"Hey," I greet. "I'm on my way now."
"About that…" he starts.
Oh no. He's giving me the slip. This time, over the phone.
"Don't drive to the hotel right now," he says. He sounds a bit odd.
"Not right now? Why not?" Is he there with someone else? Fuck, Steele – why do you always let your mind take you to places that you truly don't want to go?
"I'm going to need you to listen to me carefully and remain calm," he starts. "You are being followed right now."
Oh my god.
Oh my god!
Holy fucking shit – My head nearly spins out of its axis checking the rear and side view mirrors.
"Who? Who's following me?"
"Calm down," he coos. "Taylor? Are you on the line?"
Oh my god...someone else is on the call with us?
"Sir," he replies, and I quickly remember that Taylor is his driver.
"Miss Steele, Taylor is on the road following the car that's following you. He won't let anything happen to you, okay?" he says in a voice that I know he's using to only placate me, however something tells me that he is freaking the fuck out. The very thought of that kicks my nerves into overdrive.
"Who's following me?" I ask in a panic once more.
"We're trying to figure that out," he responds.
"Sir," Taylor interjects, "I have Welch running the plates now. He's holding on the other line."
Welch? Who's Welch?
"Switch over," Grey orders.
"One moment," Taylor says before the line clicks.
"Anastasia, hang a left at the light and take it to the freeway," Grey orders.
How in the hell does he know where I am? I'm freaking out way too much to even pose the question.
….
I don't get to Mr. Grey's hotel suite until just after nine. I've been a total wreck driving around in circles for the past three hours. When he opens the door, I throw my arms around him and he squeezes me tight.
"Oh my gosh," I gasp on the verge of tears. I eventually step back from our embrace, but he remains in contact by smoothing down my hair.
"Did you come here today because you knew that I was being followed?" I soon ask.
"Yes."
Holy shit. This is really serious.
"I was visiting a friend last night at an office building not too far from campus," I tell him. "I could've sworn that someone was following me."
"What time," he snaps with urgency.
"Around five? Five thirty?"
"What did he look like?"
"Tall…about six-four. Glasses, light brown hair. Young…about twenty-five. He was wearing a plaid shirt."
Mr. Grey begins dialing his phone and marches out of the front room leaving me confused. Ten minutes later, he returns.
"That's one of the fuckers that's been following you," he spits out. There's more than one?! "I'm certain Jay Dark hired him to do this. I am going to fuck his world up."
Oh no. Whatever Mr. Grey has planned can't be good. We need to be smart about this. Nothing good can come out of making Jay Dark a public display. If he's brought out in the open, he'll take us with him. And that would be bad…very bad.
"My intel informs me that you were being followed for the past two weeks," he says angrily.
"Since I quit the club," I gasp at the shocking realization. Then immediately afterwards, something else dawns on me. "Wait a minute, how do you know that I was being followed?"
"My people have also been tracking you," Grey says in his all-business tone. "Except my team's much more discrete than the dipshits that Dark hired."
"Are you serious?!" I gape at him. Why is he having me followed? I am fucking livid.
"I wasn't taking any chances the moment that Jay Dark threatened you," he says unwaveringly.
Every time I try to be mad at him, he goes ahead and does something that makes him more of a prince charming than I can stand. To hell with this man – I smile to myself.
Later that night after I danced to some Justin Timberlake, I show Mr. Grey my sincere appreciation by letting him rock my body until the wee hours.
….
Early afternoon, I texted Sasha to see if she was free for dinner tonight. Thankfully, she was. I then promised that I'd reveal the location later. I have to ensure that wherever we decide to meet, none of Jay Dark's informants catch us in the act. Dark will probably put two and two together and try to stop our meeting from happening.
A while later, I call up Mr. Grey to let him know that I'm meeting up with one of Kate's friends at a burger joint just off campus. I could tell that he was surprised for the reason of my call, yet he assures me that he'll have his team keeping watch whether Dark's people show up or not.
I make certain that Sasha arrives at the restaurant first and gets us a table before texting her with the excuse of running behind by ten minutes due to heavy traffic on the bridge from Portland. I eventually arrive, and we exchange an awkward greeting. Let's be frank – Sasha and I only hang out because of Kate. However, since finding out that I'm being followed by Jay Dark, it's imperative that I have his estranged daughter on my side.
After we order drinks, I get right to the point. "Look, we're not necessarily the best of friends," I preface with a sigh. Sasha is stunned by my words. "Until now, I've actually considered you to be just Kate's friend. Let's be real…you and I don't have very much in common."
"Wow," Sasha says while looking genuinely hurt. "I never really thought of it that way. Yeah…what you said kind of sucks, but it's true. I sincerely hope that we can change that. I really like hanging out with you, Ana. I know that I can be a bitch sometimes. Honestly, I don't mean to be."
"I know that," I say in total understanding. "However, trust is the only true sign of a friendship."
"Exactly," Sasha echoes in absolute agreement. "Which is why I can honestly say that I trust you."
I gape at her.
"I knew I could trust you once I realized that you didn't bother to tell Kate that my bio dad was Jay Dark. So, I want you to know that if you ever entrust me with any of your secrets, they are absolutely safe with me."
I swallow into the poignant segue. "Well, I'm glad you said that because I have something to share with you that cannot leave this table. Not even Kate can know. See…this is where your secret and mine join together."
Sasha's eyes flicker at the news. "How's that?"
"Your father owns an exclusive gentlemen's club called Zion."
"Oh my god," she gapes. "I've heard rumors, but I could never prove that they were true."
"It's true," I nod. "I worked there. I desperately needed the money for school once Clayton's Hardware went under. So, I answered a sketchy ad in a free newspaper's Help Wanted section."
Sasha gasps. "Holy shit, are you serious? I thought that you were a night nanny?"
I shake my head. "That's just a cover. I was working nights at Zion. I quit two weeks ago when I refused to move over from waitressing to dancing. Your father saw a recording of me dancing, and then he decided that I didn't have a choice."
"Are you kidding me?" she says, now angered. I nod regretfully. "Oh my god – I'm so sorry," she says, taking my hand across the table. "Jeremiah Dark is a fucking asshole."
"That's not all," I say, temporarily ceasing her angry tirade. "For the past two weeks, he's been having me followed."
"Nooo," she gasps in sheer disbelief.
"I think he's trying to sue me for quitting, which caused a top-paying client of mine to stop patronizing his business. Your father thinks that I am still seeing this client outside of the club, and he's trying to catch me red handed."
"He wouldn't dare," Sasha hisses. "I'm sure that ass is making hand over fist with that club. He probably has it under Lauren's name in order to protect it. If the club was in existence four years ago, he didn't disclose that income when he and my mom divorced. That would mean half of that club belongs to her."
And for the first time in many, many days, I smile big and wide. "I know for a fact that a couple of my good friends have worked there for at least five years," I tell her.
"That motherfucker," she mumbles under her breath, disgusted.
It was then when I knew without a doubt that I had Jay Dark's daughter, his Achilles heel, on my side.
A/N: So…our favorite pair is knee-deep in lemonade territory, but coming up next, Ana begins to see a much more controlling side of her client that she doesn't necessarily care for. Can she handle him, or nah?
Then, lots wild hot sex starts to take its toll, making good on Grey's promise to cause a rather difficult daily life for his muse. And just when Ana thinks that she has everything under control, she'll get a chilling reminder that her annoying parents still exist, haha!
Until next Sunday, thanks for reading! – ST2
PS: Happy Memorial Day to those in the US. Enjoy your long weekend!