Thank you so much for the reviews! I greatly appreciate it! I figured this would be a good time to forewarn you of what to expect here on out. Although I do not have the full story written, I have a general idea of how I want it to go. The books were incredibly written, but being involved in the lifestyle for almost 10 yrs now, some things irritated me. I feel many people assume Anastasia as the victim and Christian is the one who has to make all the changes. Although he is over the top, I feel a true Domestic Discipline lifestyle would fit them more than a BDSM one. But we will get to that eventually. Also, there is a minor in this story (Rowan) and although she may get spanked somewhere in the near future, she is NOT his sub and he never takes her into his playroom – she is more of a daughter. But if that is not your thing, I suggest you stop reading now
Christians POV
Usually I would not hesitate to take her back to my house, sip some wine, and take her to my playroom and do so many things to her. But Anastasia is just….different. I want to hear about her past, her present and her plans for the future. Her blush, her giggle, her smart mouth and the way she bites that lower lip when she is nervous has me captivated. I've never "dated" someone before. All my past subs have been handpicked by Elena, and there was no training involved. This little minx in front of me is as vanilla as they come – do I really want to risk scaring her off?
"I do not want to intrude, but I can either take you back to my place or I can drop you off at a nearby hotel. No cost from you either way. I hate to think of you in some crappy motel here in Seattle."
She seems to think over my offer carefully. I can't help but grin as she seems to be at war with herself again.
"I have extra toiletries such as toothbrushes at my house. There's also plenty of room and a guest room that is vacant." Why am I babbling?
"I have one question before I decide Christian. When I asked you what you enjoyed doing…you mentioned that your tastes were very…singular. What does that mean exactly?" She peeks up at me shyly.
Now I'm the one with an internal struggle. What do I tell her? Yes Ms. Steele, my tastes are VERY singular. I am what is known as a Dominate and I enjoy females who willingly submit to my authority, because when they do I love to reward them…and when they don't – let's just say, sitting is hard to do after.
"That is hard to explain over one dinner, I do not want to scare you away. I'd love to get to know you more Anastasia" I just hope this pacifies here for a little bit.
"I think that statement scares me more than what your big secret is Mr. Grey. You know, serial killers would say something like that." There she goes with that damn smart ass mouth again.
"You can rest assured, I am no more a serial killer than I am gay," I reply with a firm voice. I am rewarded with a deep blush. I almost feel guilty bringing up what has to be a very embarrassing moment for her. But in all honesty, she should have checked those damn questions before opening her mouth. As the silence expands across the table, I fear I may have gone too far.
"I guess it will be awhile before I live that one down. I'll kill Kate when I get home." She stares directly into my eyes, into my soul, and gradually smirks at me.
"Something amusing you Anastasia?" I smirk back at her. She truly is something different, something…more
"Nothing Mr. Grey, if the offer still stands, I'd love to accompany you home." She takes a last gulp of her wine and looks at me expectantly.
I give her a rare smile, pay for our food, and stand. Offering her my hand, which she so delicately grasps. "Come, let's go," I gently pull her along as we head back to the waiting car. Taylor opens her door for her and then walks around the car to the driver's seat. My home is only 30 min away from the club, and we arrive in the garage in record time. As we get out of the car, I can feel Anastasia hesitation.
"What is it Ms. Steele?" I stand close to her, probably to close, as it seems she has stopped breathing.
"What about your…child? Won't this seem odd?" She whispers with genuine concern. I almost laugh out loud, odd won't even flit across Rowan's mind.
"Rowan is at dance practice right now. She will not find it odd when she comes home," I reach out for her hand again as we make our way to the apartment. No past sub has ever been concerned for what Rowan thought. And although Rowan has a good idea who these woman are – no thanks to google – she doesn't even question who they are anymore.
We enter the elevator in silence. The electricity is sparking between us more than ever. Before I can think straight, I push Anastasia up against the elevator. Grasping both hands above her head in mine, I kiss her with such earnestly. I am pleased to find that the spark between us was in fact not a figment of my imagination. She kisses back with such passion, it takes my breath away. Thankfully we have arrived to the foyer, there was no guarantee that I wouldn't take her right now in this elevator. We step out into the foyer, the doors closing softly behind us. I turn to see Anastasia's reaction – awe, intimidation, and pure joy cross her features.
"Are you thirsty?" I make my way towards the kitchen to pour myself some wine.
"Yes, very." She follows behind me, soaking in everything she sees around her. I pull out one of my favorite white wines, two glasses and places them on the breakfast table. Anastasia sits down on one of the stools, still taking in everything. The cork popping makes her jump I noticed, apparently she is in her own little world at the moment.
I pass her a glass and sit down next to her, our knees brushing against each other softly.
"You have a beautiful house Christian, it's so open and welcoming. I love the art work, it really brings a lot of color to the room."
"Thank you, would you care for some music?"
"Sure, what do you like to listen to?" She gently sips her wine as I cross to the Ipod stand.
"A little bit of everything Ms. Steele," a few pushes of the Ipod and soft jazz fills the room.
I walk back to the breakfast table, but do not sit back down. Sitting in such proximity of her is more than my self-control can handle.
"I do apologize for my behavior in the elevator, I'm not sure what came over me," I watch as what looks like confusion, fill her eyes.
"I'm not…I'm not sorry Mr. Grey," she whispers, gazing at her hands as she speaks.