The next morning, we all have breakfast together. Blueberry pancakes at Violetta's request.
She sits on my lap as she eats; I run my fingers through her soft curls. She likes it when I do that, and I know it is the comforting touch of a woman she craves. I'd been the same when I was little. I loved my dad more than anything, but there was a certain softness that came with a mother. Her perfume, her gentle voice. I'm not oblivious, Violetta is forming a very strong attachment to me.
I see Christian watching us out of the corner of his eyes. Has he noticed too?
After breakfast, we drive out to the park. It is a chilly day, so I wear a sweater. Christian and I sit on a bench drinking tea as we watch Violetta play with a little girl. It feels simplistic. Like we are both doting parents, watching our daughter have fun. Am I being juvenile and naive for thinking this way? Does Christian even want me to take on that role? What about other children? I decide to test the waters...
"Do you ever think about having another child?" I ask him tentatively, not meeting his eyes. I let the warmth from the tea heat my cold hands. "I mean, for Violetta," I add. "For her to have siblings."
He looks at me and I look up. His expression is...guarded. Does he know what I'm getting at?
"Sometimes," he says.
Is that it? Sometimes?
I look at him, waiting for more. He sighs.
"I think that right now, things are perfect," he says. "I have you. I have my daughter. I have my career and you're working hard toward yours. You still have another year of college," he adds pointedly.
I look back at my tea, feeling silly. I know he's right. I do have college and a career to think about. Still, it stings all the same. He doesn't want a baby with me…
After dinner, Christian drops Violetta off to his parents and I shower as I get ready for tonight. Nerves hit me at full speed. I've ignored them all day, but now they are on high alert. You've got yourself into this Ana, I chastise. You asked for it.
It was true. I had. Practically pleaded with Christian to give me what I want. I have to be brave now. I want this.
I put my hair back into a low ponytail and select black silk underwear. A skimpy bra and thong. It is chilly, but this is what Christian has ordered. I take the key he'd given me earlier and head upstairs to the third floor. It is the last room on the left. I open it hesitantly and stand speechless at what lies before me.
I've prepared a room for you he'd said. I expected a few ties and handcuffs. Maybe a suspender belt.
I'm definitely not expecting this.
The room is bright red; my bare feet sink into a plush red carpet. There is a double bed in the centre against the wall. Silk sheets draped luxuriously over. On the ceiling, there are all types of suspension things. On the walls, racks and racks of scary looking things. Belts, handcuffs... there are draws of things I cannot see. I am about to open one when I hear the sound of the door turning. I immediately drop to my knees, eyes toward the floor. My heart is racing.
"Miss Steele," I hear his voice. Smooth and deep. It has taken on a new tone. A dominating one. One that shows he was clearly in charge.
I stay silent, hearing him unbuttoning his jeans. The belt falls to the floor and every sound is amplified. I can feel my heart pounding in my eyes.
He comes around my front to appraise me. I desperately want to look up at him, but I remember the rules.
"Good girl," he says appreciatively.
His finger strokes delicately across my cheek before trailing underneath my chin and then down to my throat. I sigh in pleasure and he stills.
"No noises," he says. "I don't want hear a sound."
I close my mouth, breathing heavily.
"I want you on the bed," he says, pulling his fingers away from me.
I stand, hurrying over to it. My knees sink into soft satin as I climb on top.
"Lie down," he orders.
I do so without hesitation, my pulse quickening faster. A turbulent mix of pleasure and fear takes place in the pit of my stomach.
"I'm going to blindfold you now," he says. "After that, I'm going to strap both your wrists and ankles to the bed. Do you understand?"
I nod shakily.
"Do you understand?" He repeats. "I need you to use your mouth Ana."
"Yes," I say, my voice quiet.
"Yes what?"
"Yes sir."
"Good girl. Look at me."
I do as he says, finally. He's wearing low cut jeans; no shirt. He watches me hungrily, smirking. He climbs over my body, ordering my arms up. He fastens them to the bed posts, soft straps yet tight.
"How does that feel?" He asks, his eyes burning into my own.
"Good," I say.
He strips off my panties then and spreads my legs wide before fastening them in similar fashion. I lie, completely spread eagled on the bed. Exposed and vulnerable.
"How are feeling?" He asks. "Are you okay?"
I nod and he then proceeds to blind fold me. A silk eye mask caresses my face as darkness engulfs me. He's swallowed from sight, along with everything else.
"Use your other senses," Christian says softly.
I can tell he's close to my face. I can feel the heat of his breath wash softly over me. I desperately want to kiss him, but I can't move. I decide to bite my lip instead; drawing his attention.
He chuckles.
"You know me too well," he says gruffly, placing his lips over mine.
I lean into his kiss, groaning as his tongue tangles with my own. His hands mould themselves around my waist, heightening every sensation.
He pulls back abruptly, leaving me cold and pining for more.
"Your distracting me," he says. "I said no kissing."
"Oops," I smirk.
He inhales sharply before coming back over me.
"I have to punish you for that now," he says, and I tense immediately.
Do I want to be punished?
"But I won't," he sighs, and then he removes the blindfold.
Light floods my sight once more. Christian hovers over me as he starts to remove my restrains. I sit up in protest, everything is happening so quickly.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I can't do it," he says.
All my restraints are off now. I crawl over to him, settling into his lap.
"What's wrong?" I ask, worried.
"I can't do it with you," he says. "I'm sorry Ana. I know you want to, but I don't think I can. I don't want to punish you or withhold your orgasms. I don't want to make you beg. I love you. Can't you see that? BDSM was a dark and lonely place. A wretched time in my life. Please don't make me revisit that world with you."
My heart feels heavy. I lean forward, wrapping my arms around him.
"I had no idea," I say quietly. "I wouldn't have pushed you if I knew."
He strokes my hair softly before pulling me back.
"If you want kinky things, I'm happy to oblige," he says, with a little smile. "I'll use toys on you, I'll explore your butt..."
His hands come down to squeeze my bare behind and I smile.
"I'll even spank you if you want. But please don't make me tie you up and punish you. Make you call me sir and never kiss you. Please don't."
I nod, leaning in to kiss him.
He kisses me back, but I can't help but feeling like I'm not good enough. Is it truly that he loves me too much? Or does he not find me desirable in this way? I'm abruptly reminded of the phrase actions speak louder than words. He had a baby with Sophia, yet he won't have one with me. He engaged in BDSM with countless other women; yet not me.
I look down into my lap.
Does he even want me at all?