Chapter 21: Anniversaries
AKA: Of milestones and love (and fluff)

You're always one decision away from a totally different life.

On Saturday I woke up in a sea of kisses. Instead of going for a run, our work out was much more pleasurable. We made love, slowly and steadily, our eyes fixed on each other's and our hands intertwined.

"What brought that on?" I asked after I had caught my breath.

"Three months ago, you walked into my life wearing sexy underwear, blindfolded and trusting, not knowing all the wicked things I wanted to do to you. And exactly a month after that, you walked into GEH, unaware you'd be seeing me for the first time. You agreed to go to dinner with me, not knowing everything would change for both of us. So today we'll celebrate by fucking and making love in every available surface!"

I chuckled. "So long as it includes the playroom…"

And it did. After having blueberry pancakes, we fucked in the kitchen counter, made love in the shower, and hurried to the playroom. He spent half an hour teasing me, carrying me to the edge of orgasm to the sound and tempo of classical music, before he made me come so hard I passed out. After a morning nap, he ate me out on the TV room's couch, and I returned the favour in his office. Scarcely dressed, we had lunch—homemade by Gail and reheated by me—, had another short nap, and made love or fucked kinkily in every bedroom upstairs—including my old Sub room.

By sunset, we were both out of commission, laying down on the couch. Christian was working on his computer while I was re-reading Pride and Pleasure by Sylvia Day in the eReader he had gifted me.

Towards the middle of the book, the protagonists entered a room with many mirrors. There, Jasper seduced Eliza and undressed in front of her. She got to see both his front and back at the same time thanks to the mirror, and noticing her stare, he wondered if he'd like him to hang a mirror on the bedroom's ceiling. Hmm… Both my inner goddess and I thought the idea had merit.

"Have you ever thought of getting a mirror on the playroom's ceiling?" I asked Christian, who turned to look at me wide-eyed.

"What? What are you reading?" he asked, trying to look at my e-book.

"Erotica," I answered unashamed, shrugging.

"Erotica," he repeated slowly.

"We've been through this. That's how I got interested in BDSM, remember?"

"Right. I just cannot believe I'm here working, and you're reading porn next to me."

"It's not—! That's not what it is! It's caller erotica. Sounds fancier," I added with a smirk. "And you can keep working. You're not touching me until tomorrow at the earliest. I'm sore."

"I've got great plans for tomorrow," he answered beaming. "You're going to love it." His sweet tone led me to believe whatever he was scheming was centred around something other than sex.

Indeed, after a late rise the next morning, Christian instructed me to put on a bikini under my clothes and Reynolds—yet another burly CPO—dove us to the marina. We strolled on the beautiful waterfront, where hundreds of boats in all shapes and sizes bobbled up and down on the calm, still waters. Beyond them, the sea was blue and shiny under the sunlight. It was a beautiful warm summer day.

People were out enjoying their Sunday walking dogs, admiring the boats, watching their kids run along the promenade.

As we headed down the marina, the boats started getting progressively larger. Christian lead me on to the dock and stopped in front of a huge catamaran.

"I thought we'd go sailing today. This is my boat."

Holy shit. It must've been nearly fifteen metres (fifty feet) long. It had two sleek white hulls, a deck, a roomy cabin, and a very tall mast. I knew nothing about boats, but I could tell this one was special.

"Wow…" I murmured in wonder, looking at yet another piece that was part of my handsome man.

Would he ever stop revealing parts of himself to me? I hoped not. I knew I would eventually run out of old things to learn; but every time something new came into his life, I wanted to be the first one to hear about it.

"Built by my company," he informed me proudly, and my heart swelled. I couldn't help but beam. "She's been designed from the ground up by the very best naval architects in the world and constructed here in Seattle at my yard. She has hybrid electric drives, asymmetric dagger boards, a square-topped mainsail—"

"Okay... you've lost me, Christian."

He grinned. "She's a great boat."

"She looks mighty fine, Mr Grey. Like her owner."

"That she does, Miss Steele."

"What's her name?"

He pulled me to the side so I could see it by myself: The Grace.

"You named her after your mum," I whispered with awe.

"How else?" he asked just as softly.

I smiled at him. "It must have made her very happy."

"You know her. She cried a bit. I think Dad's upset I didn't name the helicopter after him. Maybe the next one…"

I chuckled, trying not to think about my man flying again so soon after the 'accident.'

"Carrick the Chopper," I joked.

"Helicopter, Anastasia."

"Whatever you say, love. So, are we staying here on the ground, or what?"

"Sometimes I think you annoy me just for the sake of it."

"Sometimes I do," I beamed. "I miss making your eye twitch."

"You're terrible. Come on. Let's go aboard."

Grasping my hand, he guided me up a short set of stairs and led me aboard so that we were standing on deck beneath a rigid canopy.

In the middle, there was a table with three white chairs on one side and a cream-coloured leather couch on the other. In front of us there was a matching leather sunpad, and at our left, a set of stairs that went up.

I glanced through the sliding doors to the interior of the cabin and jumped, startled when I noticed someone in there.

The tall blond man opened the sliding doors and emerged—all tanned, curly-haired and brown-eyed—wearing a faded pink short-sleeved polo shirt, shorts, and deck shoes. He must've been in his early thirties.

"Mac," Christian greeted him, and I suddenly recognised him from the birthday party.

"Mr Grey! Welcome back." They shook hands.

"Baby, do you remember Liam McConnell? Liam, my girlfriend, Anastasia."

Girlfriend.

Liam and I shook hands.

"Call me Mac," he said warmly. "Welcome aboard."

"Ana, please," I muttered, flushing.

"How's she shaping up, Mac?" Christian asked.

"She's ready to rock and roll, sir," Mac beamed.

"Let's get underway, then." He turned to look at me. "Quick tour, Anastasia?"

"Yes, please."

I followed him inside the cabin. Towards our right, there was yet another table, with a grey sofa against the wall and square ottomans on the side closer to us. On our right, there was a large kitchen, all white and unexpectedly large.

Windows were all around the cabin, offering a panoramic view of the marina.

"This is the main saloon," Christian said.

He took my hand and led me through the main cabin. It was surprisingly spacious. The floor was all pale wood. It looked modern and sleek and had a light, airy feel, but it was all very functional, as if he didn't spend much time there.

I noticed two different sets of stairs on either side of us. "That one leads towards two guest cabins with a bathroom each," he explained as he gestured at the stairs at our left. "And this one," he continued as we walked between the dining table and a fancy navigation station, "leads to the main cabin."

We walked down the wooden stairs. Towards our left, there were a desk, a wardrobe, and a closed door. "A small office and a bathroom over there," gestured Christian, "and here..." he continued as he guided me to our right.

We walked into a plush small bedroom.

My inner goddess, who had been out of commission for the last twelve hours, made an appearance.

The bedroom had a queen-size cabin bed and was all light grey linen, cream-coloured walls, and pale wood floor. There was even a window!

"This is the master cabin." He gazed down at me, grey eyes glowing. "You're the first girl in here, apart from my family," he smirked. "They don't count."

I flushed under his heated stare, and my pulse quickened.

Another first.

He pulled me into his arms, his fingers tangling in my hair, and kissed me, long and hard.

We were both breathless when he pulled away.

"Might have to christen this bed," he whispered against my mouth.

Oh, at sea!

"But not right now. Come, Mac will be casting off."

I ignored the stab of disappointment as he took my hand and led me back through the saloon.

"So how many can sleep on board?"

"It's a six-berth cat. I've only ever had the family on board, though."

"We need to come back with Mia, Elliot, Kate and Ethan before the summer is over and spend the night," I proposed.

"There are only three bedrooms here," he said, as if it should mean something to me.

"So? Is this about Mia and Ethan? Do you really think they haven't slept together yet?"

He looked at me horrified.

"How do you know? Did she tell you so? Or is it some kind of womanly instinct?"

I snorted.

"You and Elliot are a couple of hypocrites. And I would never share with you something Mia reveals to me in private." Not that I knew much.

"I can't deal with this right now."

He grabbed my hand and led me outside, and then up the set of stairs I had first seen upon coming aboard. The upper deck was large and had an L-shaped cream coloured sofa, plus the big steering wheel and a matching leather seat. We had a great view of the prow of the boat, which had even more sunpads, and where Mac was doing something with ropes.

"Is this where you learned all your rope tricks?" I asked Christian innocently, and he forgot all about pouting.

"Clove hitches have come in handy," he answered, looking at me appraisingly. "Miss Steele, you sound curious. I like you curious, baby. I'd be more than happy to demonstrate what I can do with a rope."

"What? Are you entering a knot tying competition?"

I giggled at my own lame joke, and Christian started laughing, too—although probably at me instead of with me.

"What I was planning on doing doesn't involve public," he promised huskily. "Now let's go. I've got a boat to drive."

"Is there anything you can't do?" I asked.

Ignoring my teasing, he sat at the controls, pressed a button, and the engines roared into life.

Mac came scooting back down the side of the boat, grinning at me, and jumped down to the deck below, where he started to unfasten a rope. Maybe he knew some rope tricks, too. The idea popped unwelcome into my head.

Maybe I could learn, I thought to myself—the engine too loud to strike a conversation with Christian—and he and I could come out here, all alone.

He picked up the receiver and radioed the coastguard as Mac called up that we were set to go.

Once more, I was dazzled by Christian's expertise. He was so competent.

Was there truly anything that this man couldn't do? Aside from cooking that is. I loved the man from the bottom of my heart, but I didn't trust him in the kitchen.

Slowly, Christian eased The Grace out of her berth and toward the marina entrance. Behind us, a small crowd had gathered on the dockside to watch our departure. Small children were waving, and I waved back.

Christian glanced over his shoulder, then pulled me between his legs and pointed out various dials and gadgets in the cockpit.

"Grab the wheel," he ordered, bossy as ever, and I excitedly did as told.

"Aye, aye, captain!" I giggled.

Placing his hands snugly over mine, he continued to steer our course out of the marina, and within a few minutes, we were out on the open sea, slap into the cold blue waters of Puget Sound. Away from the shelter of the marina's protective wall, the wind was stronger, and the sea pitched and rolled beneath us.

I couldn't help but grin, feeling Christian's excitement—it was so much fun! —We made a large curve until we were heading west toward the Olympic Peninsula, the wind behind us.

"Sail time," Christian said, excited. "Here: you take her. Keep her on this course."

What?

He grinned, reacting to the horror in my face.

"You're telling me your father never took you sailing?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Not only older brothers are overprotective. Dad never let me touch anything."

"It's really easy, baby. Hold the wheel and keep your eyes on the horizon over the bow. You'll do great; you always do. When the sails go up, you'll feel the drag. Just hold her steady. I'll signal like this"—he made a slashing motion across his throat— "and you can cut the engines. This button here." He pointed to a large black button. "Understand?"

"Yes." I nodded frantically, feeling panicky. Jeez—I hadn't expected to do anything!

Well, not yet and without experience.

He kissed me quickly before stepping off his captain's chair and going to the front of the boat to join Mac, where he started unfurling sails, untying ropes, and operating winches and pulleys. They worked well together as a team, shouting various nautical terms to each other, and it was warming to see Christian interacting with him in such a carefree manner.

Christian and Mac hoisted the mainsail. It filled and billowed out as the wind seized it hungrily, and the boat lurched suddenly, zipping forward. I feel it through the wheel.

Whoa!

They got to work on the headsail, and I watched fascinated as it flew up the mast. The wind caught it, stretching it taut.

"Hold her steady, baby, and cut the engines!" Christian cried out to me over the wind, motioning me to switch off the engines. I could only just hear his voice, but I nodded enthusiastically, gazing at the man I loved, all windswept, exhilarated, and bracing himself against the pitch and yaw of the boat.

I pressed the button, the roar of the engine ceased, and The Grace soared toward the Olympic Peninsula, skimming across the water as if she was flying. It was such an exhilarating experience! That seemed to be the norm with my Christian, and not only in the Red Room of Pleasure.

The boat could move! I stood firm, grasping the wheel, fighting the rudder, and suddenly Christian was behind me once more, his hands on mine.

"What do you think?" he shouted above the sound of the wind and the sea.

"Christian! This is fantastic."

He beamed, grinning from ear to ear. "You wait until the spinney's up." He pointed with his chin toward Mac, who was unfurling the spinnaker—a sail that was a dark, rich red—. It reminded me of the walls in the playroom.

"Interesting colour," I shouted.

He gave me a wolfish grin and winked. Oh, it was deliberate.

The spinney ballooned out—a large, odd elliptical shape—putting The Grace in overdrive. Finding her head, she sped over the Sound.

"Asymmetrical sail. For speed." Christian answered my unasked question.

"It's amazing." I could think of nothing better to say. I had the most ridiculous grin on my face as we whipped through the water, heading for the majesty of the Olympic Mountains and Bainbridge Island. Glancing back, I saw Seattle shrinking behind us, Mount Rainier in the far distance.

I had not really appreciated how beautiful and rugged Seattle's surrounding landscape was—verdant, lush, and temperate, tall evergreens and cliff faces jutting out here and there—. It had a wild but serene beauty on that glorious sunny afternoon, and it took my breath away. The stillness was stunning compared to our speed as we raced across the water.

"How fast are we going?"

"She's doing 15 knots."

"I have no idea what that means."

"It's about 28 Km (17 miles) an hour."

"Is that all? It feels much faster."

He squeezed my hands, smiling. "You look lovely, Anastasia. All flushed… and not from blushing."

I turned and kissed him.

"You know how to show a girl a good time, Mr Grey."

"We aim to please, Miss Steele."

"And for all you know I had a dirty thought and I am blushing." I smiled cheekily.

He snorted, scooped my hair out of the way and kissed the back of my neck, sending delicious tingles down my spine. "I like seeing you happy," he murmured and tightened his arms around me.

"You make me happy. Always. Even when you piss me off."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm one of the very few people allowed to be mad at you."

He smiled shyly at me.

I gazed out over the wide blue water, wondering what I could have possibly done in a past life to have fortune smile and deliver this beautiful man to me.

An hour later, we are anchored in a small, secluded cove off Bainbridge Island. Mac had gone ashore in an inflatable boat to give us privacy, and I wondered at the advantages of being rich and able to pay for ridiculous stuff.

We stayed aboard to eat a light lunch packed by Gail. I took off my pink salmon blouse and white shorts, deciding to enjoy the sun in my matching salmon two-piece, albeit with sunglasses and a nice hat.

Christian followed my lead, removing his polo and exposing his handsome torso. Yummy.

After being fed, Christian took my hand and led me to the cabin, stating I needed "a more thorough tour."

Once the door of the bedroom was closed behind us, he kissed me softly. He rose a hand to my face, and his fingers moved down my chin, the column of my throat, and my sternum. He was turning me on fire. My breathing accelerated.

"I want to see you," he whispered, and his long fingers moved to untie my bikini.

He threw the garment aside and took a step back. His eyes took me in as usual: as if he was thanking his lucky stars I belonged with him.

"You are a goddess, Anastasia. My Goddess."

I shuddered as he caressed the side of my breasts as if they were an invaluable gift. His hands travelled lower and around my back until they found my butt. He kneaded me shamelessly, pressing my front against his hard-on.

Off came my panties and his trunks before he walked us to the bed. He sat down and guided me to stand between his open legs. His lips explored my breasts and belly, making my knees weak.

"I need to lie down," I said breathlessly.

He guided me onto the bed, my front towards the mattress. He climbed up behind me and continued his exploration, caressing my back with his hands and lips. He was driving me crazy.

After what felt like forever, he finally reached my butt and bit one cheek, making me squirm. He kissed every centimetre of my skin before caressing the inside of my legs with his hands. Unhesitatingly, one index finger slid between my wet lips and into my opening.

"Oh!"

Once, twice, his finger came in and out before a second one joined in, his free hand caressing my upper legs and his lips kissing my buttocks and lower back.

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed as he pressed against my g-spot, making him chuckle against my skin.

He kept the same exciting pattern for several minutes before I said, "I need more."

"Touch yourself, baby."

Well past embarrassment, and with my inner goddess in charge, I slid down one hand to play with my clit. From then on, it was a fast race towards my orgasm.

"Christian!" I shouted as I came all over our fingers.

He removed his digits from inside me and guided my exhausted body onto my back.

"Are you ready for round two?" he asked.

"Oh, yes!" I exclaimed, feeling like I was on a cloud.

He made steady slow love to me and we came together, christening the bed and the boat.

"On Wednesday, it'll be two months ever since our first date at the Heathman," he said as Reynolds drove me back to my apartment in their way to Escala.

"Two months? You're not going all high maintenance on me, are you?" I asked playfully, making a bad job to hide my actual worry.

"I'm not," he answered upset, "but I'm on a roll after this weekend, and seeing as how we usually dine together on Wednesdays…"

He clearly had something special in mind, not that he needed an excuse for such things.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," he lied.

"Nontheless, I'll be happy to have dinner with you. If you promise you won't gift me something over the top."

"Deal. I had something sexy in mind, anyway."

"Sexy? Hmm… I can work with that. But then no gifts until the six-months anniversary!"

"You forgot your birthday."

"That doesn't count," I said. "And speaking of birthdays, when's Elliot's?"

"In about a month—August 5th—. Why?"

"I know what we're getting him." I smiled evilly.

"You're walking funny," was the first thing Kate said as I walked through the door. I noticed with gratitude Elliot wasn't there.

"On Saturday it was three months ever since Christian and I first met… In the club," I explained as I let myself fall on the couch. Kate stood up from the dining table in which she had been working with her laptop and sat next to me. "Christian wanted to celebrate."

"I see," she smiled knowingly. "You look flushed. Have you been in the sun?"

"Oh, yes. Christian took me sailing on his boat today! It was amazing! And I lost my sea virginity. Both of them."

"Both? As in… front and back?" she asked, pointing at my forbidden zone.

"No," I answered, not holding back the eye-roll. "Christian had me on the wheel for a bit. It was great."

"And then you had sex on a ship, yes?"

"Well, yes, of course. We needed to christen it."

"So Christian hadn't taken a girl there before?"

"No, Kate. His love life used to be as unromantic as mine. I was the first." I beamed.

Wednesday night came, and I put on a short burgundy dress on top of a sexy white and transparent lacy baby doll. I had my gift for Christian with me inside a dark blue envelope. He was in for a nice surprise. I did hope he hadn't gotten me something ridiculously expensive, like jewellery.

Sawyer drove me to Escala, and Christian was waiting for me upstairs when I arrived. He was wearing black slacks, a white shirt, and my favourite silver tie of his. I hoped the pattern would decorate my wrists later.

"Hi," I whispered before kissing him, our arms around each other.

"Hello, beautiful. How was your day?"

"Great. I'm working on this new romantic comedy… It's aimed at teenagers, really, but it's interesting enough."

We walked further into the great room, and I noticed dinner had already been served in the dining table and candles had been lit all over the place.

"This looks beautiful, Christian," I said as I placed the envelope on the coffee table of the living room.

"Thank you, baby. Not as beautiful as you, though."

"That was sappy, Grey," I teased him.

Dinner was, as usual, delicious. I was pleased to see in commemoration of our first 'date,' we would be having oysters, followed by black cod, asparagus and crushed potatoes with hollandaise sauce.

As we ate, we talked, bickered and laughed.

"I've been thinking about the weekend…" he said eventually.

"Yes?"

"How would you like to go to New York with me? I did promise to take you there. We can leave in my jet Friday evening, right after work."

"I would love to! It sounds brilliant, handsome. We need to go to the Empire State! And Central Park, of course! I want to visit the library, and…"

He listened and nodded as I prattled on, without pointing out we'd only be gone for the weekend and there was only so much we would be able to do. I was excited to visit The Big Apple with Christian, and a part of me was wondering what it'd be like to go with him to Europe, way down the line.

After eating, he led me to the couch, where his gift for me was waiting. Warily, I opened the bag and removed a piece of black lace. I smirked. He had indeed gotten me a sexy gift. It was a baby doll with a halter neck and an oval-shaped hole in the front that would reach the bottom of my ribs. Three stripes were crisscrossed in the middle, meant to hold the garment together when worn.

"I promise to take it to New York if you take the spreader bar," I smirked.

"Deal."

"Here," I said, handing him the envelope.

He looked at it curiously and opened it happily. I knew he wouldn't be disappointed. Inside, he found naughty coupons, good for things like a sensual lap dance, a fantasy (roleplay), or strip poker. He grinned wickedly.

"I'm taking this too."

"This one got me thinking…" I said, grabbing the 'Pick a fantasy—Roleplay' coupon, "that we've played a fantasy of mine, but not one of yours. I mean, I know you're the boss in the Playroom, but it's not Roleplay per se."

"Playing the Headmaster that got to seduce a virgin was fun," he answered huskily. "But I guess that if I had to pick a fantasy, it'd be to re-enact that day of the interview, and take you in my office."

Hmm... the idea had merit. Maybe for the three-month anniversary of the interview, although it was four weeks away…

Perhaps being high maintenance wasn't so bad after all, if that maintenance involved lots of sex.

That talk was all it took to get us in the right mood. Christian held my head in his hands and kissed me passionately. I reached out to undo his tie.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, grabbing my wrists.

Had he changed his mind about me touching him? In anguish, I frowned and felt the corners of my lips fall.

"I didn't mean it like that," he assured me, placing both of my palms on top of his chest. I felt his heart beating terribly quickly, as if he had just run a marathon. It confused me—we hadn't got that far yet—. "There's something I wanted to ask you today."

He paused for several seconds, his grey eyes on our hands—still pressed against his chest—instead of my own eyes. Was he… nervous?

"We've come so far in the last two months… We used to argue all the time, remember? It was like we were in two completely different books, and I wanted us so bad to be on the same page."

"And you convinced me to give us a chance. I'll be forever grateful for that," I added with a smile.

He shook his head, his eyes meeting mine.

"I did it for all the wrong reasons. I wanted both of us on my page, in my book. But you refused to comply, and I'll be forever grateful for that. We tried to find a happy middle, and we found ourselves together in a completely new and different book, one we didn't know existed but made us incredibly happy. And I'm hoping we can move together to the next chapter."

He swallowed, nervous, as I looked at him wide-eyed. He'd better not ask me to marry him, because I'd hate to disappoint him by saying 'no'…

"Will you move in with me, Anastasia?" he asked.

Part of me was relieved, while the larger part was gaping at him. My subconscious was completely useless, mouth and eyes wide like a cartoon. My inner goddess was already spread-eagled in what would be our bed, the hussy.

He didn't say anything and let me think, displaying incredible patience. His kind, loving eyes didn't leave mine.

I remembered the night I had realised I was madly in love with him but had been sure it wasn't reciprocated. I had been positive Christian would never allow himself to fall in love, yet hoped we would remain best friends. But more importantly, I had wished we would eventually be so close—even if not in a romantic relationship—that he would propose we live together.

And here it was, but in a much better context. The love of my life was asking me to move in with him, and what could I do but whisper firmly, "Yes"?

I was ready to begin our next chapter together.

"Yes?" he asked, hopeful.

"Yes. I'd love to move in with you, Christian."

He kissed me with passion and love. It filled my heart. Heat travelled all the way to my toes.

He stood up, taking one of my hands in his, and all but dragged me to his room.

Our room!

Off came his tie and shirt, my dress and his slacks.

"Damn," he whispered, looking at my white baby doll. "Great minds think alike," he muttered, probably thinking about the lingerie he had gifted me.

He caressed the soft material, following the white stripes and flowers. He gestured me to turn around and I did, revealing my naked back. He freed me from the garment, undressing me slowly and lovingly.

"Lie down on the bed," he commanded, and my lady bits tingled.

I did as told and placed my hands above my head, hoping he would catch my mood. I wasn't feeling like plain vanilla.

"Do you want to play?" he asked, and I bit my lip.

"Please, Sir."

"Keep your hands in there then, Kitty," he ordered huskily.

He spread my legs apart and lay down between them comfortably.

He started kissing my hips, tracing a line from right to left. His mouth travelled lower until he found my mound and I bent my knees and spread my legs further to give him better access.

His lips and tongue found my clit, and I held back a moan. I resisted grinding against him. Yet soon enough it was obvious he was planning on teasing me first, and I much as I loved it, I chose to be naughty and grab his head, gently holding him in place.

He didn't disappoint and pulled away from me, lips and chin glistening and eyes glaring playfully.

"I thought I told you to keep your hands up there, Kitty."

"Yes, Sir," I answered, but didn't return my hands to where they belonged.

"Maybe I should tie you up," he suggested.

"Maybe you should," I agreed.

I tried to look innocent, but if the smile my inner goddess was spotting was anything to go by, I probably looked naughty.

"I think you're topping from the bottom again, Miss Steel." He shook a finger at me, still kneeling between my spread legs.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Sir," I spoke honestly. I had a vague idea, but no concrete information.

"In BDSM, it basically means that you're making demands while you're supposedly in a submissive role."

"Oh. Then I guess that's what I'm doing," I said unrepentantly with a smile. "Use your silver tie, please," I added, offering him my wrists.

"Only because I'm in a great mood," he answered climbing out of the bed to look for said tie. "You're too bossy for a Sub."

I chuckled.

Disclaimer: As stated in the last 20 chapters, I don't own the characters. Also, any recognizable parts—most particularly the technical stuff about sailing—come from E L James' books. You may notice I changed the description of the catamaran, going with the Sunreef 50. There are pictures on my Pinterest board (JustValeP Fanfiction), plus more in you click on the photos.

Fun fact: I find ever the most stupid thing hilarious after 10:30 p.m., so when I wrote this: "What? Are you entering a knot tying competition?"I honestly laughed. The following day, upon going over the chapter to edit it, I facepalmed. Still, I couldn't bring myself to delete that line, nor Ana laughing at her own lame joke much as I did.

Recommendation of the day: Pride and Pleasure by Sylvia Day, in case you didn't catch it.