Chapter 29: The beginning of the rest of our lives
AKA: A honeymoon and an unexpected surprise

Adventure starts where plans end

Our honeymoon was everything I had hoped for and more.

Upon leaving our house and guests behind, Sawyer and Ryan drove us to Sea-Tac Airport. Taylor and Reynolds, as well as Gail, would be staying behind to supervise the remaining renovations of the house and the move. Once in the private plane, we curled up in two leather seats towards the back of the jet, just basking in each other's presence.

"So… where are we going?" I asked him while we waited for permission to take off.

"London, baby." I looked at him with wide eyes and a huge smile. It was what I had been hoping for and expecting, but I couldn't have been sure what place Christian considered best for our honeymoon. Other possibilities had crossed my mind, including something as over the top as a private island. "I'm no fool. I can't wait to show you the city of your dreams. We'll stay there for a week. Then, we'll be going to Paris, the city of love. And lastly Nice, in the south of France."

"Wow. I can't wait, handsome. Thank you!" I exclaimed, vibrating on my seat. I reached up to kiss him passionately, trusting the staff would be discreet enough to ignore us. I was desperate to be up in the air so we could consummate our marriage.

I wasn't too nervous during take-off, as my mind had already been taken over by my inner goddess. As soon as we were allowed to unbuckle our seatbelts, Christian and I hurried towards the jet's bedroom. I would have probably been self-conscious about our CPO's presence under other circumstances, but at that time I just wanted to go to bed with my husband.

As soon as the door was closed behind us, Christian took my face in his hands and kissed me, lovingly and passionately.

"I love you, Mrs Grey."

"I love you too, Mr Grey. Let me show you how much."

My hands travelled up his firm arms towards his tie. He had already removed his vest and jacket during the first block of dancing, but the rest of his clothes remained. I made a fast work of his silver patterned tie—we had previously agreed our first time as husband and wife would be vanilla, but I was looking forwards to putting it in good use during coming days—before reaching down to remove the cufflinks I had gifted him for our wedding, monogrammed with his initials. He waited patiently as I unbuttoned his shirt and removed it.

I reached down for his pants, but he interrupted me. "It's my turn now, Mrs Grey. You're wearing too many clothes."

He reached behind me to unzip my dress and I raised my arms so he could remove it.

"You are a vision, baby. So gorgeous," he muttered as he caressed my waist and hips, his eyes roaming my translucent skimpy white bra and panties. "I'm the luckiest bastard alive."

I smiled shyly before replying. "You're about to get even luckier, Mr Grey."

I made quick work of unzipping his pants. I kicked my sandals aside and knelt to remove his shoes and socks. I pulled down his blue slacks, revealing his black boxers, which did a poor job at hiding his hard-on.

"Come back up here, baby," Christian requested and I stood up.

He hugged me and kissed me passionately, his warm skin against mine. One of my hands buried in his hair and the other caressed his back. Meanwhile, he did a fast job of ridding me of my bra. I slid my hands under his boxers, squeezed his butt playfully and pushed down the black garment.

"Sit on the bed, beautiful," he requested. I complied, confused.

He knelt in front of me and caressed my legs, from my knees upward. His right hand stopped at my blue garter, which in the heat of the moment I had forgotten I was wearing. When planning the wedding, we had both agreed to skip the cringe-worthy tradition of removing a garter with the groom's teeth in front of our guests, but I had still wanted to surprise my husband with it. Plus, it had been my 'something blue.'

He didn't disappoint and kissed me from my left knee towards the garter. He grabbed it carefully with his teeth and slid it down, smiling wolfishly up at me.

My white lacy panties were next, and thus we were finally naked.

I was slightly nervous, although less so than before our first time in Escala, and much less so than preceding our first time at the club. We were about to make love for the first time as husband and wife, and I wanted it to be perfect. Rationally, I knew I needn't worry. How could it be anything but memorable, with how much in love and how sexually compatible we were?

He guided me to bed and climbed up on top of me, careful not to place too much of his weight on me. He kissed me behind my left ear, down my neck and across my clavicle, going up the other side instead of travelling further south.

"Christian, handsome, I'm ready," I half-wined and half-sighed. I was already worked up and wet, and I needed him.

"I want to take my time with you, baby. I want to explore you. And I want you writhing underneath me," he whispered huskily against my ear.

"I already am," I moaned, rubbing myself against him.

He didn't comply, but instead kissed and licked his path down from my right ear to my breast, kissing me around my nipple before taking it in his mouth. His right hand found my left nipple and I entangled my fingers in his soft hair, encouraging his ministrations.

His lips moved to my other breast, his right arm now supporting some of his weight. His left hand, momentarily free, travelled downwards to caress my thigh. I opened my legs further, giving him more space to play. My left hand abandoned his hair in favour of touching my free breast.

"That's it, baby," he muttered against my skin.

The hand that had been stroking my thigh finally found my pussy, caressing it from outside first before parting my wet lips. He evaded my clit for the first several seconds, making me moan his name beggingly. He didn't make me suffer anymore and pressed his thumb against my clit, drawing small circles on it. His index finger probed my entrance.

"I need you inside me, Christian. Please!"

He rearranged himself on top of me, hips aligned with mine. His hands abandoned my skin and found their way to each side of my head.

"Hold my hands, love," he whispered, his grey eyes focused on my blue ones. My fingers entangled in his and he kissed me passionately. He pulled back after a minute and our eyes found one another's once again.

"I love you, my Anastasia, and I will love you for the rest of my existence."

My eyes filled with tears.

"I love you, too, Christian. More than I thought was possible. And I always will."

He slid home between my wet, warm walls as he stared at me lovingly. He set an unhurried pace and reached down to kiss me: my cheeks, my eyelids, my forehead, my lips. Slowly but surely, he increased the speed of his thrusts. Still, our lovemaking was unhurried, loving and passionate. At some point, I entangled one of my legs with his, the other one going further north to accompany his butt as he moved in and out of me. We reached the crescendo steadily before coming together, whispering each other's name as we stared into the other's eyes.

We took a short break to cuddle, during which I may have cried a little. It had been an intense experience, our love still palpable in the air.

"I love you," I eventually whispered against his neck.

"And I love you. I've been dying to ask… What did you and Kate do here during our trip back from Aspen?"

I laughed against his cleavage before raising my head to look at him.

"I promised to show you tomorrow night."

And so I did during our first night in London.

Christian had got us one of the best suites at the Four Seasons, with views to both Park Lane and Hyde Park. It had a large and warm bedroom in shades of light brown, plus a living room and dining room in the same colours. We even had a terrace facing the hotel's private garden with another dining table, ideal for having breakfast under the morning sun.

Our first night there, which took place only a few hours after landing—we hadn't slept much in the plane, so hopefully, we'd adapt to the new time zone easily—I requested a few extra towels and asked Christian to wait in the living room as I got everything ready. I turned down the bed and spread the towels on top. I didn't expect to make much of a mess, but we'd probably do so anyway. Next, I took the fraction coconut oil I had asked Gail to acquire and pack for me, which wasn't supposed to stain the sheets. I grabbed my cell phone and looked for the relaxing playlist I had found some weeks before. Finally, I put on white panties and a V-necked white silk slip with macramé trims. I was ready for my husband.

"Christian!" I called out.

I had left the door ajar, open five centimetres (two inches) at most, so I could hear his hurried footsteps as he rushed towards the bedroom. I giggled softly at his eagerness.

I was standing by the right side of the bed when he stepped in. His eyes took me in appreciatively.

"My wife is the most beautiful creature on earth," he declared.

"And my husband is the hottest." His torso was naked, and the black pyjama pants he was wearing were low on his hips. My insatiable inner goddess wanted to forget about the massage and jump him.

"What's all this for?" he asked, looking at the towels on the bed.

"I want to give you a massage," I explained shyly.

"A massage?" he asked confused, his head slightly tilted to one side.

"Yes. I gathered you never had one," I answered, reaching out with a hand to silently ask him to join me by the bed. He complied as I continued, "Your back must be in dire need of one. Let me take care of you." I pecked his lips. "Lay down on the bed, on your front."

"You are amazing," he whispered against my lips. He kissed me softly and leisurely, his hands firm on my hips. While I got my bearings back, he did as I had asked.

I climbed in after him and then sat astride his butt. I grabbed the oil, poured some on my hands, and warmed it with friction. Without further ado, I began massaging his back. It was fascinating to feel him relax under my hands. I began with minimum strength and kept adding pressure gradually, having asked him to let me know if I was hurting him. I worked carefully on his knots for half an hour, basically healing him with my loving touch, until my hands grew tired.

Christian was so relaxed it took him a while to come back from dreamland, but when he did, he thoroughly showed me his appreciation.

England was amazing. We spent a week exploring every place Christian thought I'd be interested in. He insisted he had travelled to London enough times through the last fifteen years to have already visited any place he wanted to, and that he'd rather focus on me and watch me discovered the place of my dreams.

We visited the British Library—which is the biggest national library on the planet—, Sherlock Holmes Museum, Platform 9 ¾ in King's Cross Station, The Garden Squares of Bloomsbury—where great writers, artists, and intellectuals of the 1920s and 1930s belonging to the Bloomsbury group used to meet—, and Shakespeare's Globe while in London. Then we travelled to Hertfordshire, where we took the Warner Bros. Studio Tour and looked around the place Harry Potter had been filmed. In between, we also visited regular touristy places, like the Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, The Tower of London, Hyde Park, Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square.

Next came Paris, with the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre-Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, Luxembourg Gardens, and the greatest baked goods I had ever tasted. Much was left to explore, but Christian promised me we'd return another dozen times.

Lastly, we spent three days at Nice, in the south of France, where we got to rest from our vacations. There, I got to wear the bikinis Ros had made me buy and relax at the beach. We also took a couple of hours to explore the oldest part of the city and walk through a fraction of the Promenade des Anglais (Walkway of the English).

Needless to say, through it all we enjoyed the honeymoon bliss, making love or fucking kinkily every single night.

While we were in Europe, GEH's publicity guy, Sam, had been left to deal with the press. Once again, I was asked to stay away from the articles about me. I decided to relent for the time being, not wanting to sour my honeymoon. I knew there was nothing I could do, though, but wait a decade or two until the 'nosey fuckers,' as Christian liked to call them, realized I wasn't a gold digger. The fact that I hadn't signed any prenuptial agreement wasn't helping at the moment. Of course, if I had signed a prenup, people would still be talking.

We arrived back home Saturday morning, tired and with jet lag, not to mention sad our Honeymoon was over. During the last two weeks, I had spent almost every second with Christian. He had taken an hour or two before bed to check into his company, but no emergencies had happened and Ros had done an excellent job at minding the ship for a fortnight.

On a happier note, Elliot and his team had finished replacing all the wooden floors, painting all the walls, replacing all the windows with bulletproof glass—at my husband's hyperbolic request—and updating most bathrooms—only the ones from the upper floor reminded to be remodelled—so when we arrived back to our new lives in Seattle, it was to our improved home.

Christian carried me across the threshold and into the cream coloured living room, with our new light blue loveseats and sofas.

"Wow. They did an impressive job. It's amazing!" I gasped from my husband's arms.

"It is," he agreed as he placed me on the floor.

"Welcome home, Mr and Mrs Grey," greeted us Gail, who was standing under the kitchen's doorway with Taylor.

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Gail. Taylor." Christian gave him a nod. "Ana and I will take a look around the house before lunch."

"Of course. The food will be ready soon."

Our offices and the library looked impressive. Christian had decided to keep his old furniture, all dark wood and brown leather. In the library, there were new white bookcases—half full so far, but I could see that changing through the years—, a table and a couch. In my study, there were a new sturdier white desk and comfortable chair—both which Christian had insisted on getting me—, plus my light blue loveseat and white fluffy rug from the library at Escala. The built-in bookcases had been painted white, and on the windows—which faced the backyard—light blue curtains had been placed.

On the other side of the house, facing the front yard, the dining room had been furnished with a long glass table that sat a dozen people, plus beige chairs and a bar. The room next door had been turned into the 'balls room,' with the billiard and the larger bar. I could picture Elliot dragging Christian there whenever he visited.

We decided to leave the kitchen for last—for we'd be soon eating there—and went up the new stairs, the wood underneath our feet new, shiny and silent. Once upstairs, to the right, there was our new bedroom. We had chosen light blue for the walls. The bed was new, made of grey wood, much like the bedside tables, a chest of drawers, an entrance table, and a vanity table I hadn't expected but appreciated. We had a new blue quilt that matched the new sofas and curtains.

The bed had been placed facing the backyard and Washington lake behind it. It was even more breathtaking than the first time I had seen it, for now, it was our view to contemplate for the rest of our lives. In that backyard, Christian and I had got married surrounded by our loved ones. There, we'd have lunch with our families, swim and sunbath. And hopefully, someday, we'd run behind our kids, and maybe a dog or two.

Across the house, above the dining room, the family room had been furnished with light grey comfy couches you could sink into. A large TV had been placed on the wall, between the two doors that led to the gym and the music room. By the opposite wall, there were tables for playing board and card games.

The last floor reminded empty, the wooden floor new and the walls white and clean. We were planning on turning them into guest rooms after the bathrooms had been updated.

Finally, we went to the kitchen, which had already been remodelled before the wedding. Much like the one at Escala, it was state of the art and full of stainless steel appliances. On the other hand, it was homelier with its warmer sand and brown colours.

Gail served us lunch, which for us felt more like an early dinner. She disappeared through the side door that led to the garage and guest apartment, where she and Taylor were now living. There was even an extra bedroom for Sophie, Taylor's daughter who I had yet to meet.

As we ate, Christian and I discussed our plans for the week: the following day, we'd have lunch at his parent's place. On Monday and Tuesday, if we had any energy left, we'd finish setting up our new playroom. The new furniture was supposed to be waiting for us downstairs, as we gathered all parties would be more comfortable if our employees were as little involved in it as possible. Then, on Wednesday, I had to go to my new Ob-Gyn for my check-up, and afterwards Christian wanted to take me out on a date for old time's sake. On Thursday, my husband had an appointment with Flynn, and I was hoping to make plans with Kate and Mia if I hadn't died of exhaustion yet. Finally, on Friday, we'd have a quiet night in and sleep to our heart's content till Saturday. Next Sunday, though, we'd be welcoming the family to our house, to introduce them to our almost-fully-furnished and painted new home.

I was so excited!

After lunch, Christian and I needed to remain active if we wanted to get rid of the jet lag as quickly as possible. Thus, we went for a walk around our new neighbourhood, Denny-Blaine. While it was safe, the media was still nuts about us, so Reynolds accompanied us.

The area was beautiful, all green trees, short grass, and colourful shrubs. Children could be heard laughing and running inside the private properties, and we came across a few teenagers riding their bikes or adults walking their dogs. After half an hour, we returned home to drink coffee and watch some TV. We nearly fell asleep on the couch, so we decided to change the scenery and relax with our feet in the heated pool, looking at the lake and the passing boats.

I moaned and rested my head on Christian's shoulder.

"What if we take a nap? I'm getting tired."

"Why don't we take a look at our new Red Room of Pleasure?" suggested Christian, wiggling his eyebrows. I laughed. "Maybe we can choose a place for the furniture and start unpacking the toys."

Among the furniture that we had kept reminded the old playroom's Victorian four-poster bed and matching drawer, table and sofa. While Christian had suggested we buy new stuff just for us, that furniture was exquisite and as ridiculously expensive as it looked. So long as we had a new mattress, I was fine.

We had also put into boxes all of our toys and the CPOs themselves had driven them to the house. We hadn't wanted the movers anywhere near them.

I agreed with Christian's suggestion, and we walked back into the house hand in hand. Christian made a pit stop at his office to grab the playroom's key, and then we went down the stairs hidden between the kitchen and dining room. We ignored the doors leading to the small bathroom, laundry room and storage room, and went straight for the playroom.

"I've got a surprise for you. Close your eyes," instructed my husband.

I did so as he turned the key and opened the door. He took my hand and guided me inside. After having taken a few steps, he told me to look.

I wasn't sure what the surprise was. I was a few steps away from the foot of the Victorian bed, new white mattress on top. I had been involved in picking it, so that couldn't be it. The walls were burgundy, like the ones in Escala's playroom, and I already knew Reynolds had been paid extra to do the manual labour. To my left, by the wall, the new St Andrew's cross and sex swing were on the floor, waiting to be set up by us. To their left, I noticed the new spanking bench. To my right, I spotted the chest of drawers and the old sturdy table, plus our cardboard boxes full of toys and new bedclothes for the playroom. I could only assume the red couch was behind me, by the door.

Confusion must have been transparent in my face, and Christian smirked and told me to look up.

"Oh my!" I blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl, embarrassed, but excited and impressed. "There's a mirror on the ceiling."

"I aim to please, Mrs Grey."

It was just what I had pictured that one time while reading erotica, when I had jokingly suggested we get a mirror above the bed. As if we needed to spice up our sex life!

My inner goddess couldn't wait to be fucked by Christian in that bed… watch his muscular back and ass as he thrust into me time and time again.

Fuck.

I bit my lip.

I was heating up.

"I take it you like it."

"Uh-huh."

"Cat's got your tongue, Mrs Grey?"

I half-hummed half-moaned in agreement.

Christian chuckled.

"If you're a good girl and help me put away our toys," he spoke as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his warm mouth against my left ear and my eyes still zeroed on the mirror, "I'll take you on that bed today, under our reflection, as hard and fast as you want."

I whimpered as he pulled away.

"Alright," I managed to speak. "Let's get our hands dirty."

The cross and swing we'd set up during the next following days, but the rest we could do that day. Thus, we filled the dark wood chest of drawers. Christian, who was rather anal, had labelled the boxes according to which toys went in which drawer. I tried to help but kept interfering with my husband's system, so instead, I grabbed a waterproof mattress protector and a set of red fitting bedsheets to get the bed ready.

By the time I had finished, Christian was halfway done. Thus, I went to the laundry room to get some cleaning supplies for the furniture. I knew for a fact the toys were clean, as my husband and I had packed them in individual transparent bags suitable for food, but I couldn't be positive about the table, couch or spanking bench.

It was discordant to be doing mundane activities in such a sensual room, on objects meant for Christian and me to fuck. My inner goddess seemed to have divided in two, and while one of her impersonations was already on the bed, contemplating her reflection above her, the other was taking a nap curled up on the red couch.

"Why don't you go, get ready, Kitty?" suggested Christian as he closed the last drawer, faded old jeans in his hands.

I bit my lip and nodded before scrambling upstairs.

I only had to try two drawers in my walk-in closet before finding my lingerie. I looked around for a bit before coming across the birthday gift Kate had secretly given me: hot pink panties with the words 'It's not going to SPANK itself' written in the back.

We have a winner.

I undressed and put on the lace panties and a red satin robe on top. The house was supposed to be empty, but the price to pay for being rich was the unpredictable presence of the CPOs.

I braided my hair before walking down the stairs barefoot, the wooden floor at room temperature against the soles of my feet. The playroom's door had been left ajar, so I let myself in. Unsurprisingly, Christian wasn't there. I wondered if he was waiting for me in the basement's bathroom.

I took off my satin robe and hung it on the hook placed behind the door. Next, I knelt like the good little Sub I wasn't, but could pretend to be, and focused my eyes on the floor in front of me.

I could feel my pussy pulsating, blood rushing towards my wet nether regions. My need for Christian was as carnal as ever; our honeymoon phase wasn't over just because we were back home.

It wasn't long before my husband walked into the room.

My husband.

This would be our first time not only having sex in our new playroom, but also doing a scene as husband and wife!

He stood in front of me, barefoot and wearing those sinful faded jeans of his. He contemplated me for a few seconds before speaking.

"You look so gorgeous, Anastasia Rose Grey Steele," I shuddered as he spoke my new name like a prayer. "You look lovely like this, a siren wearing kitten's clothes, relishing your control to me—and only me—for an hour or two. Stand up, baby." He offered me a hand and I took it, my eyes adverted and focused on the tempting undone button of his jeans.

I stood still as he walked around me, and heard him chuckle when he noticed the back of my panties.

"So you need a spanking, Kitty? Have you been a bad girl?"

"No, Sir… But I could be."

"Really? What would you do?" he asked as he pressed his front against my back.

"Mmm… I could roll my eyes?" I suggested. With my subconscious taking a nap upstairs, I could think of nothing else. Oh! That's it. "I could take a nap."

"A nap?" he chuckled.

"Yes. Ruin my sleeping schedule."

"You're such a rebel. Maybe we should christen that spanking bench." He hooked his fingers on both sides of my panties and pushed them down.

"Climb up, Kitty." He helped me up the new furniture, which was similar to the one back at Escala. He restrained my ankles and caressed my neck and butt cheeks. "I'm going to spank you ten times, and I want you to count."

I did as told, each spank playful and pleasurable, as it was purely a sexual act and not a punishment—although one could argue I was topping from the bottom again—. The nerve ends from my butt sent mixed signals up my brain, and my pussy grew wetter and more engorged every time my husband's hand hit my ass cheeks. My favourite ones were, as usual, the ones closer to my entrance.

After the ten spanks had been delivered and my thanks had been given, Christian helped me climb down the bench.

"Lay down on the new mattress, Kitty. I want you spread-eagled like a good girl."

I did as told and Christian restrained my legs to the four-poster bed, but not my arms. "Keep your hands above your head for now," he did instruct.

As if I weren't worked up enough, Christian took his sweet time licking and kissing my legs all over. He dedicated nearly a minute to one spot on my right inner thigh, and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd left a hickey there. Up he went, evading my cunt but lavishing my belly, and then my breasts. They were surprisingly tender—not overly so, but still unexpectedly sensitive—. I hissed and jumped away from Christian when he bit my left nipple. Logic told me he had been as careful as usual, yet it had hurt.

"Sorry," he whispered as he pulled away. "Are you alright?"

"Yesss. Just don't do that again, please, Sir."

He hummed in agreement and kissed my sternum. He kept kissing my skin as he moved further up my chest, towards my neck and all the way to my right ear. He pressed his engorged member against my sensitive clit and I whimpered softly.

"Touch me, Kitty," he whispered in my ear.

My fingers curled up in his hair as he slid home. The first few thrusts were tender, but he picked up the speed.

Holy fuck.

I opened my eyes to look at ourselves in the ceiling mirror and I really liked what I saw.

My hands caressed my husband's muscular back as I watched him fuck me, my whole body moving with every thrust and my legs spread wide under him. I forced my eyes to stay open as I ogled his butt and the back of his legs, muscles stained as he brought us pleasure.

"Are you looking at us, Kitty? Are you watching me fuck you in the mirror?"

"Ungh… Yesss," I hissed.

"Tell me."

"So hot. So handsome. Please, Sir. I need to come. Fuck!"

"Scream my name, love. I want to hear you."

"Christian!" I shouted as we both orgasmed together, his seed filling me as my walls contracted around him.

"Wow," I eventually managed to mutter.

Christian chuckled and knelt, still straddling me. He looked up and so did I, and our eyes met in the mirror.

"You look exquisite. I never thought I wouldn't want to be on top while in the playroom, Mrs Grey, but you're one of a kind. I want to see you fuck me in that mirror. You have such a wicked dirty mind, Kitty."

I hummed. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm beat. Can we take a nap now?"

"No naps. Up you go! We have time for a bath before dinner."

The bath was a terrible idea: it was warm and relaxing and I was so so sleepy. My brain was past being able to calculate what time it was in France: not only was my inner clock screwed up because of the time difference, but I had also had a hard time sleeping on the flight back. I had felt slightly nauseous, which was unusual but not new for me when flying. I was exhausted, and I was planning on going to bed after dinner no matter what Christian said.

Gail fed us mac and cheese, and afterwards, I managed to coax my husband to bed. Not only did we fall asleep the moment our heads hit the pillows, but we also managed to slumber for ten hours straight. We woke up at six a.m.; a tad early for a Sunday, but a good precedent for the rest of the week.

We didn't want to overexert ourselves, so we opted not to go for a run. After breakfast, instead, we both secluded to our respective offices and embraced the fact that we were back home, to our daily jobs. Before we had to go to Bellevue, I finished editing the Pride and Prejudice continuation. I had loved every second of it; the fact that it hadn't managed to consume me during my honeymoon couldn't be blamed on the book, as I had been distracted with Europe and my husband.

Lunch at Grace's and Carrick's home was as loud as usual. Our family was happy to see us back home and anxious to look at the pictures from our honeymoon. Christian accessed our shared album in the cloud with Carrick's laptop, and we spent an hour showing them our tour through London and Paris. We had taken a few selfies on the beach too, but all in all, we didn't have too many pictures from the south of France.

"How is married life treating you?" asked me Kate once we had a few minutes to ourselves.

"It's been great so far, but to be fair, up until now all our marriage has consisted of was a honeymoon."

"You look as love-struck as usual, if not more."

"He makes me so happy…"

"I know. It's easy to see. How's the house?"

"Oh, Kate! It's like a dream. Your man and his interior designer did an amazing job! I love it."

"I'm glad to hear it. I can't wait to take the tour next weekend! Elliot tells me it has a dungeon—I mean basement—," she joked, bringing back her question from a few months ago, when she had first found out Christian and I weren't merely kinky, but into BDSM.

I blushed, my cheeks going as red as they could be.

"Kate!" I scolded her between my teeth, looking around to make sure no one had approached us while we were distracted.

"Oh my God, you didn't!" She laughed loudly.

"Of course we did!"

"Without Elliot knowing?"

"It's bad enough our security knows and did half the job setting it up. I still don't understand how they haven't fled."

"Well, I bet Christian pays them well. Plus, it would seem you guys manage to keep things interesting in a non-dangerous way. It must be the dream CPO job."

I groaned.

Monday sucked.

Ben, Seth and Angela were glad to see me back. During lunch, Angela wanted to hear everything about London and Paris. Ben was happy with the job I had done with the book and assigned me a new one about vampires I absolutely, embarrassingly loved. All in all, it would have been the perfect day, if not for the fact I wasn't honeymooning with Christian anymore.

That evening, assembling the St Andrew's cross and the swing was challenging, but fun. Naturally, the playroom made us horny, and next thing we knew I was tied up to the bed. Christian had bought some supposedly aphrodisiac incense; we didn't need it nor believed it actually had such properties, but we were always up to doing something new. I didn't appreciate the smell much, to be honest, but I decided to give it a shot; that is until Christian climbed up the bed. The mattress dipped and jiggled under me as my husband got in position. The shaking motion seemed to intensify in my stomach, collaborating with the incense to make me nauseous. I took a deep breath trying to calm my stomach just as Christian started to kiss my neck. It proved to be a mistake.

"Red! Untie me!" I exclaimed when I felt the need to throw up.

"What's wrong?" Christian asked as he automatically started to free my wrist, his eyes wide and full of worry. Instead of answering I stayed still, breathing as little as possible as he freed my arms and legs, and then sprint towards the small bathroom. "Ana?" he asked worried as he followed me.

Christian held my braid out of the way as I expulsed the little food I had left from lunch. It was a terribly unpleasant situation I hadn't lived through ever since middle school, and I'd be happy if I never had to go through it again. My husband rubbed my back as my stomach relaxed. I closed my eyes and rested my back against his chest.

"God. That was horrible."

"What happened? Do you think it's food poisoning?"

"I don't think so. Maybe it was the incense? My stomach feels fine now."

"Are you sure?" he asked worriedly. "Maybe I should call my mum."

"I'm fine. I promise. I'm not in pain, or even nauseous anymore. If it changes, I'll let Dr Greene know on Wednesday." Sure, she was an Ob-Gyn, but a doctor is a doctor, right?

Christian brought me my clothes to the bathroom and told me to get dressed and march upstairs while he turned on the exhaust fan to ventilate the playroom. I did so before settling down in the living room. While Gail prepared us some light dinner, Christian and I curled up in the couch, each doing our thing. Both my husband and I were worried the food would make me nauseous again, but luckily it wasn't the case.

Tuesday was uneventful. The playroom was ready, but Christian and I didn't have the inclination or energy to go down there. Plus, Christian had a ton of work, so he spent most of the evening in his office.

Wednesday morning, I chose a dress that'd be appropriate both for work and dinner with Christian afterwards, as we had an early reservation, and in between, I had my appointment with Dr Greene. I also threw in my purse some make-up, so I could reapply it before leaving the office.

At the end of the workday, Christian and Taylor were already waiting for me outside. It wasn't long before we were at the private clinic Dr Greene worked in. The assistant was fast and efficient, and in no time Christian was seated uncomfortably in the waiting room next to me. It's not as if he was surrounded only by women, for the waiting area was shared for other professionals, but Christian confessed he wasn't a fan of remaining seated doing nothing, nor of the smell of antiseptic. Not to mention the chairs weren't particularly comfortable.

Luckily, it wasn't long before I was called. On the other hand, the visit took a while as it was my first time with Dr Greene. She questioned me about my health and that of the women in my family, how long I had been sexually active, my contraceptive method, and the frequency and regularity of my period. Because the birth control implant made my period too spaced apart and irregular, the doctor insisted on a pregnancy test. She explained it was because my lack of period wouldn't clue me in if I was expecting. I knew I was on the verge of getting my period any day soon and wasn't worried about the possibility of being pregnant, but obviously I still did as the doctor asked.

She handed me a cup and asked me to go to the bathroom attached to her office, and put on a hospital gown meanwhile. I did so, and upon returning to her desk she placed a short stick in the cup.

A single line didn't take long to appear. What I didn't expect was the second line.

Sorry not sorry for the almost-cliffhanger.

I'm never been to England or France, son I hope the number of places I had them visit isn't exaggerated.

Also, what is the better term for the Ob-Gyn's office: examination chair or table?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

Recommendation of the day: Taste of Innocence by Nolebucgrl, a vampire fanfic guilty pleasure.