Author's Note: Thank you for your patience while you waited for this chapter. It took me a while to write because I wanted it to do this chapter justice, so it needed extra attention. Hopefully I didn't fail. If I did, I apologize. Feel free to send me advice via private message if you have any to offer. It's always welcome.
Khillintessier – Thank you for the advice. It's much appreciated.
My pinterest page for this story has been updated with pictures from the wine cellar, some mood music, and Ana's outfit. So if you are interested, go to:
Pinterest dot com / xwingana/real-girl
Chapter 34 – A Bubble Not Burst
The return to Escala the next day was bittersweet. The clean up crew finished scrubbing the great room and other open areas clean, disposed of damaged furniture, and then a few select members of Elliot's construction crew went in, repaired walls, and replaced any kitchen cabinet doors that were damaged. Even though I'd lived at Escala for years now, after what happened here it didn't feel like home anymore. It felt tainted. In the back of my mind, I knew my time owning this place was limited. As soon as this mess was over, I would find a new apartment or even a house and move on.
Ray and I gave Ana two choices – return to Montesano with him with a security team as he had a major wedding arch to construct and was already behind schedule, or remain at Escala with me. It was Taylor who pointed out that if Ana went to Montesano, when Ray was at work, the security team would be split between them. I had no issue providing a second team, but at the same time I wanted her here. She was dazed, out of sorts and defeated. More than anything I wanted to care for her and protect her. In the end, Ray, Ana, and Taylor discussed security arrangements and the three agreed she would remain at Escala. I was beyond thrilled.
After Ray hit the road with his security detail, additional security arrangements were made for Elliot's house and Bellevue. Even the SPD provided details for both properties, which provided a bit of additional comfort. As Taylor, Gail, Ryan, Reynolds, Ana and I headed down the elevator for what would be the final time at West Union, the tension was palpable, especially from Gail. During the ride down Taylor, normally quite self-contained shifted uncomfortably as he held one of her hands, while Ana held the other and rubbed her arm. I can't even imagine what it must feel like for Gail, who was at Escala when all hell broke loose. I'm hoping Elliot's crew got everything done that I requested.
As our two SUVs pull into the underground parking at Escala, we are pleasantly surprised to see two SPD officers verifying that anyone attempting to enter the car park lives in the building. There are also two CPOs patrolling the garage, another guarding the service elevator, and finally one last CPO guarding the private elevator to the penthouse.
Ryan and Reynolds take the service elevator up first arriving to greet the rest of us when we step out of the private lift. All of the living room furniture is now gone. The new furniture is due to be delivered tomorrow morning by members of Elliot's crew. The only item left in the large open space is my piano, which amazingly came through the incident unscathed. I can't help but glance at Gail as the new wall colors shock her. Where all of the walls in Escala had been white before, they are now the creamiest beige with a rich brown accent wall. The tray ceilings also feature the accent color, sprinkling it throughout the great room.
"Wow," Ana gasped in disbelief as she gazed around at the large plants that were added to the apartment. "They did this in a few hours?"
"Elliot's team is the best in Seattle," I explain tearing my eyes away from her exposed legs. She was wearing this layered, button-down shirtdress on this unseasonably warm day and it was difficult not to just stand there and ogle her. Finally I glanced around around the massive open space. "Elliot picked the colors and the furniture that's coming tomorrow."
"It's seems so much larger without furniture," Ana comments examining some of the new plants, while I continued to admire her legs. "What color is the new furniture?"
All I can do is shrug and chuckle as I flushed slightly. "Elliot picked it, so I have no idea. He knows my taste and I'm certain he'll add a bit of his own flare to it. I have to admit, the color change and plants already make it feel warmer."
"It's stunning," Gail comments walking around with Taylor not leaving her side. I don't blame him. The look on Gail's face pulls my attention away from Anastasia and her legs. Gail looks a bit pale, somewhat lost, and clearly traumatized by everything. I can only imagine the thoughts going through her head. I'd sell my soul to take away her hurt and pain. She and Taylor have been there for me for years, never judging and quietly supporting me. Over the past six months, I wouldn't have been able to adjust my lifestyle without their gentle encouragement.
"Gail, I know it's difficult being back here for you. If you'd like to take some time off, I can arrange for a private villa for you and your sister's family in Hawaii so you can step back from it all," I offer.
The conflict on her face is readily apparent. She takes a moment before replying. "If you wouldn't mind Mr. Grey, my preference is to readjust to being here after the events of last week because if I go away for vacation I'm afraid I won't come back," she whispers the last part unable to look any of us in the eye, even Taylor.
"If at any point you want to take time off, just tell me. Hopefully this mess will be over soon, and then both you and Taylor can take some well-deserved time off. I think a few weeks someplace tropical would do you both wonders," I inform them sincerely. "I asked Ryan to work with Ros's housekeeper restock the refrigerator earlier in the day, but for dinner tonight Jackson is picking up an order from Roux for all of us. I thought we could all use some Cajun comfort food and some down time. Even I will admit it's been overwhelming."
"What are the plans for tomorrow Mr. Grey?" Taylor asks but there's no missing the relief in his eyes that he'll be free tonight to help Gail start to adjust to being back here.
"Grey House all day. There are a few meetings I need to attend. Ryan and Reynolds are coming with me. You will remain here with Jackson," I explain to Taylor before turning to Ana. "Would you join me at the office tomorrow? There is a small visitor's office near mine where you'll be able to set up shop and get work done."
Anastasia merely smiles at me and agrees. She looks tired. I think we all feel drained and exhausted at this point. I can't resist taking her hand as I inform her that it's time for a tour of the wine cellar as we needed to pick wine to accompany dinner.
"You have an actual wine cellar?"
I grin broadly. "I collect. Two years ago I bought a one-bedroom apartment directly below us and had Elliot convert it into a wine cellar. The only access to that area is through a door near my bedroom that everyone assumes is a linen closet."
We head toward the master bedroom, but stop at a wide door. I open the door and usher her down the steps and into my private wine cellar.
When Christian told me he had a wine cellar, I expected a small, temperature controlled room loaded with floor to ceiling wine. As I head down the steps to the large open space, I realize he doesn't do anything on a small scale. The massive tan room has an ornate fully-loaded bar, a casual living room with a mix of brown couches and colorful arm chairs, and the master bedroom had been converted into a climate controlled wine room with a glass wall and door. It even has a tablet computer for keeping track of his stock. Unlike the rest of Escala before the recent redo, it felt homey and colorful as opposed to formal and museum-like.
"This space is amazing," I sigh. "I think it's my favorite space in the entire apartment. It feels like we are in our own private bubble and there are no vases around to ruin it."
He smiles shyly. "It's my favorite place in Escala as well. It's wonderful to have you in my personal, private, bubble – no vases allowed. Until today, the only guests I've had in here are my family, Ros and Gwen, and now you. Since tonight is Cajun, we'll need a sweet wine – a German Riesling would go well with spicy food."
"How long have you been collecting wine and where did you learn so much about it?"
He explains he'd been collecting ever since he moved into Escala, but he learned about wine by the same woman who introduced him to his former lifestyle. The thought saddens me. More than anything I want to ask whom this woman was, but it's none of my business. If in the future he wants to share that information, so be it. For now, to me, she will always be Mrs. Robinson and it's safe to say it will take every ounce of my self-control not to smack her.
He takes my hand and leads me through the glass doors into the climate controlled wine room and I can't help but match his massive grin. He explains that this is his every day collection before pressing a button causing one of the wine racks on the back wall to slide backward then to the left, revealing a hidden wine room.
"This is where I keep the higher end wines that are my true collection," he explains before leading me into the small room. The space is decorated in a similar color scheme to the wine cellar living room, but rather than a couch, it contains a single brown chaise armchair with a small side table. It feels warm yet lonely in here suddenly. I couldn't help but wonder if this is where he came when he felt overwhelmed by life and wanted complete and total privacy. While I understand everyone needs that sometimes, it feels lonely and my heart can't help but go out to him.
"Do you spend a great deal of time in here?"
He sighs uncertainly. "This is my sanctuary for those times I don't feel in control. I find the room oddly soothing when I sit here with the door closed, lights dimmed, a glass of wine in my hand, and music playing. It calms me down and helps put things into perspective."
"Sounds like we can both use this space right now," I comment before moving two pillows off the chaise. I take his hand and pull him onto the chaise with me, cuddling against him. He reaches over to the side table, grabs a small remote and the Beatles Yesterday began playing. "These are my favorite Beatle songs, so I have them playing on a loop."
For someone who claimed not that long ago to not believe in love, it felt ironic yet hopeful; I couldn't help but smile to myself as I allowed myself to relax against him. We listened to a few more songs with our arms wrapped around each other, our eyes closed as we soaked in the ambiance – Across the Universe, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Eleanor Rigby. It truly was relaxing here, even without wine. I could stay in here forever. When the song, In My Life, begins, I reach up and caress his cheek and give him a shy smile. "It's magical in here," I whisper.
"It is with you," he murmurs before gently bringing his lips to mine. His kisses were tender, sensual, and loving, where as before they were urgent and filled with need. Every caress, kiss and murmured word made me feel loved and cherished. I couldn't help but run my fingers through his hair – god just looking at his hair aroused me on bad days, being able to freely run my fingers through it while his hands and lips worked their magic made me kiss him fervently. He replied in kind.
My every nerve ending is on alert as we continue kissing until I'm breathless and incapable of coherent thought. He kisses his way down my neck as his fingers slowly unbutton the front of my dress. All I can do is gasp in anticipation when all of the buttons are undone and he pulls me onto his lap, straddling him. This gives his hands and lips unfettered access to my breasts, while I can feel his need for me firmly between my legs. When his hands gently cup my breasts over my bra and rub just so, I moan and reflexively grind my hips against him.
"Christian," I'm barely able to whisper. Before I can continue his lips are on my breast, while his hand continues it's torturous pattern on the other one. When I feel his teeth lightly massaging my aroused nipple, I grind against him once again and somewhere between a breathless moan and a whisper I inform him that he's over-dressed. He repeats the action again with his teeth, and this time I run my fingers through his hair, pulling him against me as we grind against each other.
I can't resist pushing him back on the chair and one by one, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. After undoing two buttons while kissing his neck, all I want to do is kiss my way down his chest. Dazed with desire, I look into his eyes for approval. He nods uncertainly so I proceed with caution.
As I undo another button, I lightly kiss the newly exposed area. The combination of touching him, his scent, his arousal, and the shuddering sigh he issues as his tense body begins to relax after the first kiss spurs me on. Slowly I repeat the process, grinding against him in anticipation as each button pops open. "God, you taste and smell so good," I whisper breathlessly, causing him to groan.
When the last button on his shirt is open exposing his bare chest I can't help but admire his physique – six-pack oh yes, light splattering of chest hair most definitely, and the contour of his muscles as my wide-eyed gaze move down to the button of his pants which are impeding the view.
As I go to unbutton his pants, he stops me with a smooth, desire-laden chuckle that makes me shiver with anticipation. His soft hands caress my face and bring my gaze to his. "Oh no Anastasia, now it's my turn to have fun and you are the one over-dressed."
On cue, I blush.
"Tell me what you want," he whispers right before his lips brush against mine. "Tell me," he commands softly as his fingers continue their tender assault on my breasts, causing me to gasp and reflexively continue to grind against him.
"You." His reply is in the form of that shy smile gets me every time. His hands move from my breast, caressing their way across my lower back and massaging on my bottom. "Is this what you want Anastasia?" he asks before grinding against me with fervor.
My head tilts back as I moan at the intimate contact, my breathing quickens, and any rational though I might have had in the recesses of my mind is now gone as I rest my hands on his bare chest as I struggle to breathe.
"I'll take that as a yes," he chuckles before flipping me over on the chaise so he is now on top. In one tug, what's left of my dress is off, leaving me in a matching set of lacy, black bra and panties. He stands examining my body lustfully, as he removes his shirt, and then slowly removes his pants. As he stands there wearing only a snug pair of grey boxer-briefs it's clear that part of him is very happy to see me. My eyes go between the profound arousal in his boxer-briefs to his eyes and back again.
"Can I?" I ask breathlessly.
He smirks. "Can you what Miss Steele?"
That voice makes my entire body quiver as I kneel before him at the foot of the chaise with my hands resting on his hips. I gaze up at him and smile as I slowly lower his boxer-briefs releasing him. I can't help but stare at the enormity that is Christian Grey before gazing down at my lace-covered privates.
"It will fit, trust me," he whispers in my ear as with one hand he unclasps my bra before removing it, while the other caresses my hip. His hand grasps the small piece of lace covering my virtue, while his other hand pushes me backward onto the couch, thereby ripping my silky underwear off my body.
"You are mine," he whispers as he kissed his way up my leg and inner thigh causing me to moan. I can't help but squirm the closer his lips get to my apex. When his lips and tongue reach their destination my legs are over his shoulders and his fingers begin their journey of caresses. All I can do is moan his name as he pushes me closer to the edge. When he pins my hips so I stop squirming, it's overwhelming - I can't breathe, all I can do is feel every nerve ending beginning to fire as my back arches, my head tilts back, and I call out his name as I lose control when my orgasm consumes me.
When I finally get my breathing under control, I open my eyes to find his body over mine. We're practically nose-to-nose, and from the smirk on his face, I can tell he's proud of himself. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud of him too. I can't resist running my fingers through his hair as I pull him against me and kiss him passionately. "I love you. There's no one else for me but you Christian," I whisper between kisses. "I knew I was already yours the day you invaded my appointment with Flynn at the hospital and more than anything I wanted you to be mine, but the feelings terrified and overwhelmed me. I'm not afraid of them anymore. It's always been you – only you. I'm yours."
"This is ours – our love. I love you Anastasia. I have since you fell into my office. I didn't recognize it then, but I know we are meant to be together," he whispers before his gentle kisses resume. I feel him shift so he's between my legs. I wrap mine around his waist and I can feel him right at my entrance, but he doesn't move. As his kisses grow more passionate his hands return to my breasts. With every gentle caress and pull on my nipples, my hips move in an attempt to get him inside me, but fail.
When his lips take the place of his magic fingers and he begins to nuzzle, kiss, suck and then nibble on my nipples, I can feel the throbbing between my legs intensify until I feel like I'm going insane. Having him poised right at my entrance is the most wonderful type of madness.
"Please Christian," I stammer breathlessly, as my mind and body feel overwhelmed and out of control lust. Its sensory overload at it's decadent best. "Please Christian."
He leans his forehead against mine and our lust-filled eyes meet. "Please Christian," I implore him one more time. "I need you."
I feel his move his hips away from mine and I feel bereft at the loss of his appendage pressed against my core. The feeling of loss is short-lived when he fills me with a long, deep, thrust, while our gaze never part.
"Oh," I gasp at the feeling of discomfort. He keeps himself buried deep within me, allowing me to grow accustomed to the new sensation of fullness. It's almost overwhelming, but in an excellent way. With every miniscule shift in his position, I can't help but moan softly.
He runs his hands through my hair before kissing me tenderly. "Are you okay baby?" All I can do is nod as he moves his hips slowly causing me to moan yet again. As his kisses grow more passionate, my body responds and his strokes become longer, faster, and less controlled. My hips meet his every thrust, causing him to groan. It's the most erotic sound I've ever heard as he continues to possess me heart, body, and soul. I feel myself teetering close to the edge yet again. The instant his arm moves at the base of my spine, tilting my hips ever so slightly, my nerve endings shatter at his next thrust, and I feel my muscles clenching around him as if they are screaming – he's mine. When I feel him push himself into me one last time and hold himself there as he explodes in me, it's a sinfully erotic sensation. All I know is, I'm his. Of that I have no doubt. I'm his.
We rest for a moment in each other's arms before Christian gets up and pulls me off the chaise. "Come on. We've got to get cleaned up before dinner and at least pretend to pick out a wine."
He leads me through a doorway and into a luxurious full bathroom. As he turns on the shower and adjusts the water temperature, I can't help but gaze at myself in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my cheeks are flushed, and I feel more relaxed than I ever have felt in my life. I glance back at Christian's bare backside as he continues fiddling with the water temperature. God, he's perfect. When he's satisfied with the water temperature, he stands next to me at the sink and pulls a hair tie from one of the drawers, explaining Mia leaves them everywhere. I can't help but giggle.
"You look well-loved and well-fucked Miss Steele," he smirks.
I blush as he pulls my hair up into a messy bun and pulls me into the shower. He takes the shower sponge and drizzles it with bath soap before pulling me into his arms and kisses me passionately. While we continue kissing passionately, he's lightly scrubbing my neck, my shoulders, down my back, and continues working his way downward. He slowly turns me around and I rest my soapy back against his chest. The kisses and nibbles continue around my ear and down my neck, each one making me tremble with desire. He drops the sponge and adds soap to his hands as he slowly massages my breasts. I can't help but reach up with my arms and lightly tug at his hair.
His hands continue downward cleaning the most intimate part of my body. I can't help but grind my backside against his growing arousal. "Are you ready for me baby?" he whispers in my ear practically causing me to orgasm right there and then. That sexy voice will be the death of me.
All I can do is nod in confirmation as I turn to face him. When our eyes meet, his body pushes mine against the shower wall. The cold tile is the exact opposite of his warm, aroused body pressing against me. As I move one of my legs to just above his hipbone, he lifts my other one and enters me in one swift, hard, thrust before setting a deep and rapid pace. With my arms wrapped around his neck and our mouths explore each other, I can't help but groan as every thrust makes breathing more difficult. Wanton doesn't even begin to describe the feelings coursing through me as my thrusts meet his. My muscles begin to tense, my toes curl and all I can do is say – harder, faster, more, as he possesses me. Finally, my body goes over the edge as I gasp – Christian!
Idiot's Note: Thank you for reading!