AN: thank you all for your helpful reviews! I'm glad this idea is interesting to more than just me.
EL James owns all
Currently listening to Arctic Monkeys' "Arabella" and The White Stripes' "Conquest"
Chapter 3
CPOV
Get a fucking hold of yourself, Grey. It's just a girl you idiot.
"So you're on the student newspaper with Miss Kavanagh then?" I'm grasping at straws trying to regain some semblance of control. Small talk seems to be the best option. Honestly, the best option would be to fuck her right now on my desk and forgo the interview completely, but I don't think that's going to fly with her.
She hides a smile by sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. Her lip turns a light pink where her teeth make contact, turning white as she bites harder. Shouldn't that be painful? She's almost drawing blood. Does she like the sensation? Does she like the pain? Is that why she bites her lip so hard? Good lord, now I know I'm in trouble.
Why did she have to do that? Why the fuck did she have to show me how fucking sexy she is with one fucking expression? I don't even know her. She could have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. She could be insane. She could be an idiot.
She could be the best sub you've ever had…
Fuck.
Don't think about that. Don't think about her being a sub.
"… because she's my roommate." Shit, she was talking and I didn't even listen because I'm too fucking preoccupied with trying to calm myself down. I assume she means Kavanagh is simply her roommate, so she's just interviewing me as a favor. I wonder what she's studying. I bet she's smart. She looks smart.
And hot.
And she doesn't seem to mind pain.
And her skin is flawless and milky – it would react well to a flogger.
And now I'm hard.
And now she's going to notice.
And the headline for this article will read "Christian Grey: Lecherous Pervert."
"Well Miss Steele, shall we get this started? I'm a very busy man and I only have a few minutes for your questions," I say in what I hope is a disinterested and aloof manner as I move to sit behind my desk, obscuring my raging hard on, which is currently trying to destroy my zipper and all of my control. I can't let this girl know how much she's affecting me by simply being herself. She's fucking topping from the bottom and she's not even aware she's doing it.
I could train that out of her… I could show her how to behave properly.
The idea is deliciously satisfying.
Stop this. NOW.
I take a breath and strengthen my resolve to treat this girl like I would any other young reporter. Just ignore anything nonessential to the interview.
Ignore her thick hair.
Ignore how alluring it would look braided down her naked back.
Ignore her sharp blue eyes.
Ignore how seductive they would look peering up at me through those long lashes while she slowly slid my cock into her wet, inviting mouth.
A loud banging sound brings me out of my concupiscent mind and back to reality.
"Whoops! Sorry about that!" she says as her blush returns and she inspects her leg. She must have hit it against the coffee table. I didn't even see her do it. Too distracted by my wayward thoughts.
I bet that blush travels everywhere.
"Are you alright Miss Steele? That looked like it hurt."
"Oh it's not a problem, Mr. Grey. You could say I have a high tolerance for pain. A very high tolerance…" she says with a wicked smirk, like she's enjoying an inside joke.
Well, I'm fucked.
APOV
He's just staring at me. It's like his brain shut off or something. Can that happen to people? Am I supposed to do something or just sit here looking at him like a confused imbecile? I cough loudly enough to get his attention and it seems to work – snapping him out of it. He clears his throat and motions for me with his hand to begin the interview.
I look down at the questions Kate gave me and they're all so very… boring. Just plain boring. He probably gets asked these questions all the time. His answers won't give Kate anything that hasn't already been reported. I stuff her questions back into my inside jacket pocket, hoping Kate won't kill me for deviating from her perfectly organized interview.
Sorry, Kate.
"Do you mind if I record your answers, Mr. Grey?" I ask as I take my phone out.
"That's not a problem Miss Steele." Jesus, his voice could make Mother Teresa question her control. It's lethal. I turn my phone to a recording app and begin.
"Why did you decide to start your company so young?" I'm curious as to why he didn't wait until he was done with college. Surely it would have given him a little more authority if he had been a bit older. I can't imagine a company being very happy about some hotshot 21-year old coming in and tearing everything apart.
"Patience is not my strong suit, Miss Steele," he half-chuckles. "I felt I was ready and didn't want to wait any longer. I will admit, my parents weren't thrilled with the prospect of me dropping out of Harvard to start my own business, but I didn't really care about their approval at the time – I just wanted to go out there and make a name for myself." His passion shines through in his answer. He really did have full confidence in himself and his abilities. It's nice to meet someone so self-assured, most people just pretend they are, but he really believes it.
"Could you tell me a bit about your parents, Mr. Grey? Other than their occupations, I mean."
He looks at me, calculating how much he wants to say, no doubt. That's my plan – to see how much he'll divulge about his private life, since there seems to be almost no information about it currently.
"My parents are wonderfully kind people, but I prefer to keep them out of the press whenever possible." His face shows strong determination to do just that – keep his family out of the media. He's very protective of the ones he loves – maybe that's why there's never any mention of a girlfriend – because he wants to protect her from prying eyes.
"Ok then, no family talk." I attempt to steer the conversation back to something he's comfortable with by taking out the boring, but safe, interview questions Kate wrote down. I'll sneak attack him later with another personal question.
I ask him what he thinks he owes his success to and I see his miniscule smile drop completely. He looks annoyed – and weirdly disappointed. I knew these questions were crap.
He sighs and goes into an obviously rehearsed explanation about how he knows how to read people and how to make them do what he wants. He says that it's all about the people you work with but he sounds like he's more complimenting his ability to seek these people out.
Well that was kind of arrogant.
"You sound like you've got it all figured out, Mr. Grey." I try to hide my snarky tone but I'm sure he hears it as I see his face harden at my sarcasm.
"I'm very confident in what I do. Confidence is key to success." He says harshly, like he's trying to prove something to me.
"But hubris isn't." I mutter under my breath.
His eyes harden as he glares at me – I guess I wasn't as quiet as I thought.
"If you're going to say something, Miss Steele" he says, emphasizing my name, trying to belittle me, "then say it." He thinks that by challenging me, I'll become all meek and shy, like his cowardly assistant out there. What was her name? Right, Olivia. He thinks I owe him my respect because he's all fancy and powerful, but that's not how you get respect. I'm not a fan of bullies, and I don't back down.
I grin as my new plan forms in my head. I can get him a little riled up and then catch him off guard with a question that's actually interesting.
Ok Grey, let's play.
"I think you're an arrogant and entitled control freak." I stare straight into his eyes and lean forward in my chair as I say my words without the least bit of hesitation. This is definitely going to piss him off, but I can't help it.
He regards me coldly for a moment – eyes aloof, jaw set, shoulders back.
Sexy as fuck.
Wait, no, shut up. I can't think about that.
He gets up from behind his desk and slowly walks to the chair next to me. He looks like a jungle cat, sauntering gracefully while fully aware of his power. He sinks into the chair and looks at me, his index finger running along his lower lip.
"Control can be quite… satisfying, Anastasia."
That was DEFINITELY not about business.
I don't know what to say to that. How did he make my name sound like an orgasmic prayer? How did he go from pissed off to complete sex god in half a second?
Who the fuck is this guy? Is he just trying to mess with me? Trying to trip me up so I don't pester him anymore with my questions? What if I did that to him?
What if I did that to him.
Two can play at this game.
"Oh really? I've never found much… pleasure," I say slowly, rolling the word around on my tongue, "in control. Care to enlighten me, Mr. Grey?"
His eyes go wide and then become darker – more predatory. It should freak me out, having someone look at me like that, but I'm not scared. I'm turned on. Wait, what?
Shut.
The.
Front.
Door.
How in the hell can I be turned on? How can I notice that? Sensory-wise, pleasure is too close to pain – I never feel pleasurable things, like light breezes or attraction to crazy hot control freaks. I don't ever feel heat, yet I can feel it now as it pools between my thighs. Is this what heat feels like? I don't even know.
What's going on? This isn't right. This is weird. This shouldn't be happening.
I can hear my breathing getting faster and faster, the dots forming in my vision as I start to hyperventilate.
"Miss Steele, are you ok?" he asks, seeming just as panicked as I am – probably freaked out by my current freak out. I need to get out of here before something happens. I don't know what I'm afraid could happen. All I know for sure right now is that I have to get away from Christian Grey.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I have to get back to WSU for work. I just noticed the time," I half-heartedly lie. I don't really care if he believes why I have to leave; I just need to get out. Now.
"Thank you for the interview," I say as I rush out the door and to the elevators.
His assistants jump up in surprise and I think one of them says something to me but I can't even hear her. I can't focus on anything but getting as far away from this man as possible. The doors open and I step inside, pushing the button for the bottom floor. I hear him come out of his office as the doors begin to close and I frantically press the "door close" button, hoping I can escape this place in time.
I see him just as the doors close.
"Anastasia," he says, breathless.
"Christian."
AN: so, yeah. There's that. Tell me what ya think.
Thanks,
vvs
