So so sorry for the long wait, I know it's been awhile. I'm not all that happy how this turned out, but it is what it is and what it is if just shy of 5,000 words. I updated the Pinterest for this story. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo beginning Wednesday, but if I get inspired I will update. I appreciate those who are still following. I'd appreciate hearing your thoughts on this chapter. There might be some typos, I'm blaming it on the fact I've been sick since Friday.

Enjoy!

Chapter 28

After several days in Aspen, I'm itching like a man on a fuzzy tree to go home and get my party on. Christian and I have done nothing but fuck, eat, fuck some more, eat some more - a fuck fuck here, and a fuck fuck there, here a fuck, there a fuck, everywhere a fuck fuck. Well…not everywhere, but you get the idea.

I do believe that my fetus factory is broken. I had to tell Christian that my vagina was calling a timeout because I literally got up yesterday morning and I was tingly down there…and not in a good way. It felt like a million little intruders had taken up residence and were trying to claw their way out. If I don't get some sort of infection, I'll be a lucky bitch for sure.

My husband, the ever-caring man that he is, likes to get other's opinions when it comes to my not feeling well. Other's opinions equal Grace Grey. The first time Christian mentioned he told his mother what was going with me…I wanted to grab him by the dick and shoot him out of some sort of Punkin Chunkin canon. I. Was. Pissed!

"Anastasia, I called Grace to ask her what might be the problem," Christian yells from the first floor as I'm getting ready to step into the shower.

Oh, fuck no he did not actually call his mother again and tell her that my girly fertilization plantation was sore. What the fuck Grey!

"Christian, please tell me you're kidding?" Hopefully, by the tone of my voice, he'll understand my annoyance. He has become attuned to my different voices. I am a girl after all, and I can shriek with the best of them.

"Baby, it's nothing. Mom said it's probably overuse," He states matter of fact, which makes me want to pull his balls up and strangle him with them.

"How many times must I ask you to not call Grace when it comes to my girly issues, Christian? Your mom is a baby doctor, not a vagina doctor."

"I know, but she has to know something...the baby out there. You know how I worry about you, and I just want to be sure…"

I cut him off mid-sentence, "I am fine my love. Your giant anacockda is the issue. Trust me, I'm fine, and I love you for caring so much. You do realize that Grace is going to tell Carla and we'll never hear the end of it, right? They're like rabid dogs about the whole baby business."

No sooner do I finish what I was saying, my phone buzzes across the countertop. I pick it up and show it to Christian. Carla Steele! Motherfuck!

I shove my phone in his face, "See, I told you. Now I'm left to deal with her," I exclaim, quite loudly too, as I stomp off to the library.

Fifteen minutes later I managed to reassure Carla…and Grace that I am fine. Between the two of them, I don't know who's worse. After a lengthy discussion with my husband about the privacy rules regarding my vagina and all other female related issues, I decide I need some fresh air, so I suggest to Christian we go into town and see what sort of trouble we can get into. He texts Taylor and Sawyer that we're going out. I love the snow, but it's colder than the hair on a polar bears ass; I'm not sure I could live here year-round despite how quaint and beautiful it is. I decide to wear these cute off-white riding pants, and layer a long sleeve Henley under a short sleeve light brown cashmere sweater and finish it off with a leopard scarf. I'm becoming a bit hangry, so lunch at the Wild Fig is first on the agenda.

Figs. Does anyone fucking eat figs? What the fuck is a fig anyhow? They remind me too much of prunes. I know, completely different, but prunes...I mean, old people eat them to pass their personal parcels. It's right there, clear as day, pRUNes…get it runs. Ha…prunes give you the runs. No thank you. Speaking of the runs, does anyone else get the runs when its shark week? It must be some hormonal thing that happens because damned if it doesn't happen to me quite frequently. Here's a story I bet you will find funny; I, however, was mortified. I was 16 and had cramps so bad that when I was sitting on the toilet…with the runs, I became nauseous and my only option was to puke in the tub. I guess I became dehydrated or something else fucked up was happening thanks to the sabotage from my baby box because I passed out face first, ass up in the bathtub. My dad happened to be walking by the bathroom and heard a thud. He found more than he bargained for when my ass was the first thing he saw…then the toilet…then the tub. Fun times.

I hope we only have boys when we decide to have kids. It sucks being a woman; men have it so easy. Sure, they go through puberty…they get muscles and grow taller, but they don't expel fluids and chunky uterus lining from their vagina every month for 40 god damn years just, so we can push out a watermelon through a hole intended for a mandarin orange. Then there's the dreaded "change" of life known as menopause. Men don't have to shave their armpits or legs or pluck bizarre hairs from their chin, they don't paint their face with products to not only make them look good, but also to stop from getting fucking wrinkles and crow's feet. Women get old while men are regarded as distinguished. I call bullshit!

After a delicious lunch, we wander around, do a little shopping and visit several art galleries. Christian wants new art for the house here. We end up at the Peter Lik Gallery. His landscape photography is amazing. Christian spends a fortune on series of six photos and one for my office at GEH. My long-forgotten passion for photography peaks its head out. I had this grand plan, before college, of traveling around the country to take pictures of iconic structures in all 50 states. Clearly, that didn't happen as I ended up going to college right after. What if I did it now? Hmm, I would need to take time off from work…and be away from Christian. Not likely to happen, but maybe I'll poke the bear…after sex. Why, yes, I do use sex to my advantage. I'm a shit wife already, I know. However, my always obliging husband is even more than agreeable after a good blowie and a bit of spray painting the cervix. I surmise that our discussion has three potential outcomes: he will be pissed off, or he'll sulk because I would be away from him, or he'll be amenable. Or I could be completely off fucking base, and it will all blow up in my face, and we end up in an argument.

It's Friday, and we are going home today. We make our way to the airport, and I take in the fresh cold air as I step out of the car. I notice the landscape around us is blanketed by a fresh layer of fine, brilliant white snow. I love coming here but, I'm excited about our reception tomorrow and our official honeymoon to begin. Christian has been keeping the location a big secret, only saying he will tell me when we are sitting on the big plane. That, in and of itself, tells me it's someplace far. The big plane only gets used when he travels far or must take a shitload of people someplace. He asked me the places I would not want to go, the list was not too long. While I love looking at the ocean, I'm not a big fan of the ocean. Aside from my husband, too many things living in the deep dark sea can eat me. Also, I had a traumatic experience with some rocks and kelp when I was younger. At the time it wasn't funny but is the reason for my distaste of the ocean. I'll give you the abbreviated version.

So, we were in San Diego one summer when I was 17. We stayed on Coronado Island which is bombdiggity if you've never been. There's a bunch of condos right on the beach that Ray and Carla decided would be perfect for us. Despite growing up in Seattle close to the ocean, I still had a bit of fear of the water. Anyway, I was doing a Lord of the Dance pose on this large outcropping of rocks thinking I'm the shit when a massive wave breaks over the rocks and it knocked my scrawny ass into the water. As I was attempting to climb out of the water and back onto the rocks, I felt something graze my leg and wrap itself around me. I started freaking out, screaming like a …well a girl. Fighting the continuous slamming of salty waves, Harper helped pull me out. I stood up and look down realizing what was wrapped around me was a bunch of kelp, not the killer sea creature that was undoubtedly was going to swallow me whole. I'm not yanking your chain when I say I haven't been back in the ocean since.

I'm sitting mid-cabin when I see Taylor eyeballing my husband, telepathically trying to get his attention. I swear you'd think those two are married with their own fucking way of communicating.

I nudge the workaholic sitting across from me, "Psst…Christian. I think Taylor is trying to get your attention. He's giving you goo goo gaga eyes again."

I snicker, and he grins while shaking his head. He stands, does the chin pointing thing to Taylor and bends to kiss me softly, "I'll be right back, don't run off Mrs. Grey." Dear God that man has a fine ass, and it's all mine. Oh, I'm getting a little warm down there. Fuck being overused, I'm going to jump him when we get home.

I watch them disappear into the office. I grab my book; The Seven Year Dress, from my carryon bag. I am fucking determined to finish it. Damn, I'm hungry, and I just ate an hour ago; I'm craving pizza, but that sure as shit isn't going to be on the menu today. I think I need to pee too. I sit for a minute contemplating whether I genuinely need to pee or if it's just boredom and I'm looking for something to do. Yep, just boredom. I have mentioned that I get bored easily, haven't I?

I hear muffled, raised voices wafting behind me. I ignore it as there's frequent shouting between those two in the office and at home. What in the hell is so important that couldn't wait until we landed. I think if the plane were on fire, we wouldn't still be hurtling through the air at 500 mph.

As we make our descent into SEA-TAC, I take notice of the clear blue skies. Hopefully, it will stay like this through the weekend. We land and make our way to the car. No clue who Thor is waiting by the back doors; I guess he's supposed to be here.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Grey," Thor remarks softly. This guy looks like he could squash people like a bug, but he'd do it with a sweet smile.

"I'm sorry I don't believe we've met before." I offer my hand.

He takes mine in his vice-like grip gorilla hand, "No Ma'am, we've not. I'm Jeremy Benson, Ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you." His smile is just as kind as his demeanor.

"Very nice to meet you too, Jeremy. I assume you're driving us home." He nods and proceeds to open the back door for me to get in.

I watch Taylor and Sawyer walk to another car, while Christian strides towards me, looking a tad bit irritated. Fastening my seat belt, I prepare for the 30-minute silent treatment because that's what my husband does when he is having some sort of crisis. I don't even bother asking what's wrong because he will tell me either it's nothing or not to worry he's handling it. Although, he does surprise me by holding my hand the whole way home. I love his hands. They are soft, strong and well-manicured. I have a severe man hand fetish. There's no bigger turnoff than a guy with funky fingernails and don't get me on toes.

Jeremy slowly pulls up to the gate and waves at some guy in the guardhouse as we pass through the expansive, black wrought iron gateway to my happy place…home. I need to find out exactly how many MIBs we have nowadays. Shouldn't this be information a wife should have? I mean, seriously what exactly am I supposed to take care of any way besides servicing my husband's colossal dick? This is my life since I've been with Christian. We have people who pay our bills, do our grocery shopping, clean the house, guard the house, guard us, drive us, fly us, and cook for us, wash the cars, wash the windows, wash our clothes, and answer the door. It's a cuckoo life, but I wouldn't have it any other way if that meant Christian weren't a part of it.

I head for our bedroom; my husband to his office. After a long soak in our bath, I put on yoga pants, a t-shirt and warm fuzzy socks and set out to find Mr. Somethingjumpedupmyass. I slowly open the door and find him on the phone. Taylor and Sawyer turn when they hear the door open. Not one afraid to speak up, so I open my mouth. "What's going on guys?" They remain mute and look at their boss who's still prattling on the phone. Humph! Fine, whatever, don't tell me. I close the door to go find something to occupy my time.

I feel something hitting me against the face, I swat it away, then realize its Christian swinging his hard, long dong shlong in my face to wake me up. Guess I found a nap to occupy my time. I barely have my eyes open when he lays on top of me and starts grinding. I'm not in the mood for sex…I think I'm in the mood for an egg salad sandwich.

"You hungry babe?" I struggle to say as his lips meet my mine. The look on his face tells me he realizes that he's not getting any until I eat.

"I suppose I could eat a something. I mean, I could eat you," he pauses. "Okay, we haven't eaten since this morning. What do you feel like having?"

"Um…egg salad with a big crunchy dill pickle." Just saying it out loud makes my mouth water. The look on his face is classic Christian. It's a cross between smelling a stank ass fart and eating something sour. He's such a food snob. Me, I'm a junk food junkie when I'm at home.

Christian finds some chicken salad, and after I devoured my two egg salad sandwiches and giant pickle, we decide on a bubble bath and partake in some vintage wine that Christian bought at some auction.

The Next Day

We're at my in-laws getting ready for our reception. I've not been allowed to see anything because our moms want it to be a surprise. My sisters, Mia and Kate, have assured me it's beautiful though and not some over the top princess reception. I'm the furthest thing from anything princess related. I played Barbie with Harper when I was younger. Of course, while Harper was dressing them up in ball gowns and tiaras, I was usually decapitating them or removing limbs, chopping all their hair off and burying them in the mud, setting them on fire or drowning them. My sister, the princess, used to get so pissed off and tattle on me all the time. Eventually, I stopped getting dolls for my birthday or Christmas.

Remember when I said I was going to be that girl with two dresses? Well, I decided to go for something different for the reception. The dress is an ivory and silver tulle mermaid with lace covering it, with a sweetheart neckline, beaded spaghetti straps and beautiful beaded embroidery over lace appliques on the bodice. If I found this dress first, it probably would have been the dress I wore for our ceremony. Christian hasn't seen it because Grace kept it here knowing we were getting ready at their house instead of ours. I hope he likes it when he sees me. Everyone else is wearing the same suits and dresses they wore for our wedding to make it easy.

The hair and makeup stylists are putting the finishing touches on me when there's a knock at the door. It's my sisters, Kate and Mia, Grace, and mom. They're all giddy with excitement for the night to begin. Our photographer has us stand together for more pictures, and I wait anxiously for Christian to come and get me.

Ten minutes later there's another knock on the door. I see the tall figure ...Ooh la la, it's my husband. He is so yummy looking in that suit. I do believe that my insides are quivering. I can't afford to get wet since I basically only have a piece of string with a little bit of fabric covering my hooch. I need to think about something else besides fucking my husband. Images of my dad in his underwear are stumbling around in my head. Yep, that did it.

"Anastasia Grey, you are breathtaking," he whispers and kisses me softly right behind my ear eliciting shivers and goosebumps.

"Thank you, baby, you look hot enough to fuck right here, right now!" I see Carla and Grace look over with bug eyes as soon as those words leave my mouth. Oops.

"Sorry...I forgot anyone else was here." Just as we are getting ourselves together, I heard a very loud and pissed off voice coming from the hallway, seconds later the door swings open and I about shit myself.

"Keegan, you motherfucker. Give me back my clothes and my wife!" Christian is red-faced and growling. Keegan begins to laugh and strip off Christian's suit right there.

"Do you think your guests would mind if I show up in my Calvin's?" He jokes. One day Christian is really going to kick his ass bad for all these stunts he pulls. Everyone knows he's the jokester, but Grace supposedly gave him a talking to before our wedding and told him to act like an adult. Yeah, I don't think that is ever going to happen, and I pity my sister.

"Okay, can we settle this later? Keegan take the god damn suit off and go get dressed, we're running late," I instruct firmly.

Are we ready to go?" I need to change the subject quickly. The ladies file out through the door when I hear "We'll go down, you two come down when you are ready. Try not to mess up your hair or makeup Ana." My mom winks at me as she walks out the door. Did Carla just insinuate she thinks we're going to fuck before we come down? Uh, no mom. Most definitely not here.

"You ready baby," Christian questions and takes my hand in his, pulling it towards his lips. He kisses my rings and then my lips.

Grace leads Keegan out by the neck, chastising him the whole time. I can't help but laugh, it is kinda funny when you think about it.

A few minutes later Christian is dressed in his suit and sizzles like bacon in a frying pan, "Let's do this Grey." I'm so excited.

Hand in hand we make our way down the candlelit marble stairway to the enormous white tent. We pause at the entrance waiting for the introduction.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please help me in welcoming the bride and groom, Christian and Anastasia Grey." The wedding planner guy says ushering us inside.

I stop just as quickly we start to move forward, "Holy hole in a jelly donut, it looks unbelievable," muttering to no one. It looks like something out of a movie.

Christian leans in close, "Shall we Mrs. Grey?"

As we enter, the room explodes with applause, smiles, and I'm reasonably sure I hear Elliott and Keegan hollering. I am stunned at how beautiful it is. The first thing I notice is the room is glowing in purple. Each of the large round tables is adorned with centerpieces of purple, white and green hydrangea in a square vase filled with slices of lime. Beautiful white lights are hanging from the transparent ceiling of the tent. This is everything I could have imagined and more.

We make our way down through the tent, stopping to say hello to what seems like a thousand guests. We told Grace and my mom they each can invite 100 guests plus our 100 guests, and it looks like they may have stayed within the parameters. We finally make it to the front of the room where our families are waiting for us. Thank fuck, I need myself some of the hard stuff. What do I get? Champagne. That's not nearly hard enough.

We've almost finished with dinner when Taylor pops up like a pimple on a pubescent boy's ass. He whispers in Christians ear and steps back at attention waiting for my husband to stand.

"Baby, we have a bit of a situation that needs my attention. I'll be right back." He kisses my lips, and like the Roadrunner with Wile E. Coyote on his ass, he's gone. Well...I'm never one to pass up a meal, so I scarf down the rest of my dinner. I can't imagine what is so damn important, but he's gone for about fifteen minutes. He's wearing his impassive CEO face which tells me I probably shouldn't ask, but you know me...Curious George that I am.

"Where did you run off to? Sorry, I finished my dinner without you, but I was fucking starving. Plus, I need something to soak up the alcohol I plan on consuming tonight."

Christian leans in, "There was an uninvited guest trying to make her way inside."

I do a double take, "Who the fuck was trying to get in... you said her, who her?"

"How do I say this, so you don't go all looney tunes on me?" He pauses. "It was Celeste."

"Uh...exsqueeze me, Celeste as in your college girlfriend Celeste? As in the girl you lost your virginity to Celeste? As in the wife of my short-lived boss? What the fuck was she doing here?" We only invited a dozen or so people from work, mostly upper-level management and the slew of ambulance chasers.

"Well, it seems as though she's a little off her rocker and was here to try to take me away from you. She thought this was our wedding and she was going to interrupt us in the middle of our vows. Much to her surprise, it wasn't our wedding. Taylor called Daniel to come and get her. I am letting him deal with it. I will deal with Daniel after our honeymoon."

"Seriously...how many years has it been since you dated her?" I know sure as shit it's been at least five years. What the fuck!

"Baby, she is clearly a little off...mentally. I don't know what the fuck she was thinking. I mean, I have barely spoken to her since college. She didn't look right and was clearly on something. Let's not worry about her now. I want to dance with you, Mrs. Grey."

No sooner does he finish that sentence; the DJ is asking for us to come up for our first dance. Christian takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. We decided that we would both select a song for our first and our second first dance and it was going to be a surprise.

I hear the familiar sounds of a piano, but don't recognize the song. Christian holds me close and looks into my eyes as I listen to the voice of Ruelle begin to sing I Get to Love You. As I listen to the words, tears fill my eyes. As we move across the floor, Christian is so graceful...me, not so much. I'm wearing these beautiful high heels, and I'm concentrating hard not to break a leg. Four minutes later we realize the song has ended and all eyes are on us.

I sniff very unladylike and Christian offers me his trusty monogrammed handkerchief, "Mr. Grey, you are determined to make my mascara run, aren't you? That choice of song was beyond." I get a sly smile, and an almost R rated kiss. Only a few seconds pass when the song I chose begins. I'm not sure Christian has ever heard Spend My Life with You by Eric Benet and Tamia, but it's a perfect song from me to him.

It's Christian's turn for tears which then makes me start again. We're laughing and crying at the same time, but we don't take our eyes of one another. We compose ourselves and enjoy dancing with our parents and siblings to a range of music. Christian and I take a break to mingle and talk with our guests. We grab ourselves drinks from the bar and set off to hobnob with some strangers.

After an hour of smiling it's time to cut our cake. I love our cake, of course, it is purple and green. A four-tier white cake with buttercream frosting between the layers of each tier. There are green swirls with purple flowers of different sizes on a white base of buttercream frosting. Christian has a groom's cake as well and because he is a chocoholic; his is a two-tier chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting with a fancy G made of hard chocolate on top. The photographer is busy taking photos while we cut into the bottom layer of cake. I told Christian if he even thought about smashing cake in my face, my legs would be shut for a week. He got the message.

Everyone is having a great time, but damn if I'm not tired and a little bit drunk. I hear a clinking of a glass and look up to see my husband standing at the head of the room with the microphone in his hand. He calls me to join him, so I slowly make my way to him.

"Anastasia and I would like to thank everyone for joining us in celebrating our marriage. I know it's a bit unconventional for you to not attend a wedding beforehand. We sincerely hope that you understand why we did things this way. We are grateful to our families, especially our mother's. They handled the specifics of the reception and I know I speak for Ana when I say we were blown away. Ana and I will be leaving shortly for our honeymoon, so please continue to enjoy the festivities. If you feel you're not able to drive, there will be hired cars out front to drive you home.

Another hour later, I'm a little more tipsy, horny and hungry again. I find my husband, and he clearly knows that it's the witching hour for me.

"Baby, you look spent. Are you ready to leave, it's midnight? Our takeoff time is at two a.m., so we have plenty of time to change and make it to the airport."

"Please whisk me away husband to lands far far away. I need something to eat before we take off though, I'm starving. All that booty shaking worked off my dinner."

We say goodbye to our families and make our way to Christian's childhood bedroom that Grace has kindly turned into a grown-up room. No more WWE posters and half naked girls on the back of his door that I must stare at when I ride reverse cowgirl.

It's now one thirty, and we drive onto the private terminal tarmac where the big plane is waiting for us. I see Sawyer, Gail and three more MIB's when I wobble up the steps. Taylor and Christian follow. I'm ready to hit our bedroom and fuck till we get to where we're going...although sleep would be good too. That reminds me to ask Christian where the hell are we going.

"Babe, since we're officially on our honeymoon would you care to share exactly where said honeymoon is going to take place and for how long?"

"Alright Curious George, we are headed to several places. Our first stop is Bali for a week, then on to New Zealand for two weeks, and our last stop will be Australia for two weeks. We won't be stateside for a month, that's why Gail is here. I couldn't keep Taylor away from his wife that long. We have extra security along, so they can enjoy the sites too."

I clap my hands and bounce in my seat. I can't believe he planned this whole thing and I had no clue.

We've reached flying altitude, and the seat belt sign goes off. Christian gets up quickly and then pulls me from my seat, throws me over his shoulder and heads for the bedroom and we're both laughing hysterically.