Chapter 9

Ana PoV

He reached out as if he wanted to cradle me in his arms. I saw his arms hovering, midair, hesitating. Rather than waiting for him to drop his arms and see the disappointment in his eyes, I turned on my side, facing away from him, backed up and pressed my back against his chest. I reached over and pulled his arm around me, draping it across my own arm. Rather than feeling trapped or claustrophobic, I felt safe. Like nothing and no one could get to me as long as his arms were around me.

I felt his nose skimming along the shell of my ear. "You amaze me, Miss Steele," he whispered.

"How so?" I asked, nuzzling the back of my head into his chest.

"A week ago, you nearly had a panic attack when you fell into my arms. You were so afraid of human contact, both physical and emotional. Now here you are in my bed, in my arms, having just shared your most intimate part with me, allowing me to please you. That's a huge amount of progress in one week, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair point well made, Mr. Grey," I quipped, stealing his often used line.

As I lay in his arms, I thought about what just happened. I let him undress me; let him touch me with his lips. Felt him in between my legs, in my most private place, that even I had never ventured to. He was so careful, so sweet and gentle. It was hard to believe that another side of this man was harsh, aggressive, and dominant. Did he want to do all those things in that room with me?

"About your playroom," I began. He shifted uncomfortably behind me. "Do you, um… have you thought about bringing me in there?"

"Thought about it? Yes. I have," he replied. Oh dear. "But I won't. I know you're nowhere near ready for any of that. And maybe you won't ever be. And that's okay. I realized something today, Ana. I don't need another submissive. I don't even want one. All I need is you. All I could ever want is you. Even if all we did was slow, gentle sex for the rest of time; that would be more than okay with me."

"Okay," I said. "I think that would be best for now. And maybe later, we could um, explore some other options."

"You say it like we're making a business deal," he joked. I giggled. "Oh, what a lovely sound. I love to hear you laugh, Anastasia. It's like music to me."

"Music," she echoed. "Well, Mr. Grey… you've seen and sampled something that I've never shared with anyone before. Shall we keep the pattern going? I have something else I wish to share with you. Something that no one ever has seen. Well, one person, but she's dead now, so she can't see it anymore."

"Your biological mother?" he asked.

"No, my grandmother, Mammaw. She taught me something as a kid; it was a way to channel my feelings into something constructive. But I was too shy to ever show anyone but her. Have you an extra robe?" I asked, spotting one hanging on the back of his closet door. He nodded and hopped off the bed, disappearing for a moment into his en-suite. He reappeared holding a silk lavender colored robe. I didn't want to think about who had worn it before.

"It's brand new," he told me, answering my unspoken question. "I thought you looked lovely in that plum dress the other day, so I had Taylor pick this up in case you ever stayed over."

"Oh, well thank you. It's lovely." He held it open for me to, draping it over my shoulders. I slid my arms in the sleeves, wrapped it around me and tied it closed. He donned his own robe and followed me out the door towards his living room.

I sat at his piano, gesturing for him to sit next to me. "You play too?" he asked, curious.

"Not as well as you; my style is a bit less… classical, I guess," I answered. Playing a crescendo from high e to low g, I felt the ease of the keys beneath my fingers. "What a beautiful instrument," I mused.

I began playing a familiar blues tune, to show him the genre I was sticking to, and then transitioned into an older blues number, a la Billie Holiday. As the melody opened, I began singing.

Sometimes I say if I just could get away with my man

He'd go straight sure as fate for it never is too late for a man.

I'd just like to dream of a cottage by a stream with my man

Where a few flowers grew and perhaps a kid or two like my man.

And then my eyes get wet, almost forget

'Til he gets hot and tells me not to talk such rot.

Oh my man I love him so he'll never know

All my life is just despair but I don't care

When he takes me in his arms, the world is bright… alright

What's the difference if I say I'll go away?

When I know I'll be back on my knees some day

For whatever my man is… I'm his forever more.

I played a solo ending of the song on the piano for a few moments before Christian's hands covered mine, stilling them, making the last few notes echo through the room. "You sing," he whispered, his face in complete awe. "Your voice is incredible." He leaned towards me and captured my lips with his own. Possessing me, giving me himself in return.

My fingers snuck up into his hair, anchoring myself to him. His chest was pressed against mine, the thin fabrics of our robes the only thing between our flesh. I wanted him. Here and now. On this piano bench. "Christian. Make love to me," I whispered.

"Here?" he asked, pulling his lips from mine, pressing his forehead to mine. I looked into his beautiful grey eyes and nodded.

"Yes, right here. Right now. Please," I begged. He groaned in response and reached down to pull the knot of my robe loose. The fabric fell open revealing my naked form to him. He pulled open his own robe, shrugged it off, and laid me down onto the bench, grabbing a pillow from the nearby couch to place under my head.

"I'll be very gentle," he promised. I nodded in response as he ghosted his fingers down my torso, on either side of my stomach. My muscles clenched deliciously in my abdomen as he caressed my body. His fingers found my sex, rubbing and moving, making me wetter by the second. "Oh, Ana. You're so ready for me."

"Yes," I replied, lifting my pelvis off the bench. "Please, now, Christian." He smiled again and leaned over me, positioning himself at my entrance. For a moment I wondered how much it would hurt, if he would even fit, but then his mouth was on my nipple, and I forgot to be worried about pain.

He sucked and bit down on my hardened peak, eliciting moans and groans from me. And then, before I realized it, he was fully sheathed within me. It didn't hurt at all. The feeling was odd, but it wasn't unpleasant. "Oh Anastasia," he whispered against my ear. "You're so tight. Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"I'm more than okay, Christian," I replied, stroking his hair. "And it doesn't hurt at all. You sufficiently distracted me with your attention to my breast."

"That was the plan," he replied, smiling against my neck. He pulled out ever so slowly and pushed back in, this time hitting a spot I didn't know I had.

"Oh my," I gasped. "Do that again." He chuckled lightly and repeated his motion, getting the same response from me. Again and again he moved in and out of me, achingly slowly, but it felt so amazing. He picked up the pace a little, but stayed gentle and loving.

"God, you feel amazing," he said, leaning down to kiss me passionately. He kept moving slowly in and out, in and out. I could feel the pressure building, like before. Only it was more intense.

I moved my hands from his hair to his sides, gripping his hips as he moved within me. My legs bent upwards of their own accord and wrapped around him. This, I learned, allowed him to get even deeper within me. I groaned loudly when his next thrust went deeper than I'd ever imagined. "Oh Ana. I won't last long," he said into my hair. His fingers moved to where we were joined, pressing against my sensitive nub, adding to the incredible sensations I was already feeling. "Come for me, darling."

I exploded at his words, convulsing around him, feeling my muscles clench and tighten around his hardness. He pumped into me a few more times before releasing into me, groaning my name as he came.

My body was useless. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't even lift my head. Utterly spent, and it was glorious. At some point, Christian stood up, picked me up and carried me back into his bedroom. He laid me on his bed after pulling back the covers and slid in behind me, wrapping his arm securely around me. "I can't imagine all sex is like that," I mused. "If it was, no one would ever leave their houses."

My Adonis chuckled into my shoulder blade. "I can't speak for the planet, my dear, but it was rather incredible. Best sex I've ever had, to tell the truth." This I found hard to believe.

"Oh, please. Little-old-inexperienced-me can't have been better than the women who are trained for this. The women who know exactly how to react and respond to your dominant nature. I mean, all I did was lay there and moan a lot. You were doing all the work."

"You underestimate yourself, Miss Steele. You were raising your hips, thrust for thrust, meeting mine, allowing me deeper access into you. Plus you gave me what none of them ever could."

"What's that?" I asked.

"An emotional connection," he replied. "Every other woman I've been with has been only about the sex, about the dominance. Exuding my control over them. With you it's not that way. I think this is what those sappy romantics call making love."

Oh my. The "L" word. We'd known each other a week and he was talking about the "L" word. "Please say something, Ana."

"Um, well, I have no basis for comparison, but it wasn't frenzied and rough like is portrayed in some movies. I definitely felt an emotional connection, but then I've felt that ever since you kissed me on Monday." I blushed into my pillow, thankful he couldn't see the reddening of my skin.

"Don't hide your blush from me, Anastasia," he said, tugging on my shoulder to get me to turn back around. "That along with your laughter are two of the most beautiful things in the world to me. This is going to sound so cheesy, and I can honestly say that I've never ever uttered these words in my life." I waited, holding my breath for his words. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

I burst out laughing. A full guttural, deep laughter that started deep in my belly and exploded through my mouth. I was convulsing and tearing up from laughing so hard.

"Could you wound my ego any further?" he asked, pouting.

"I'm sorry; it's just the look on your face. I can see why those words have never left your lips before. It sounded and looked all wrong coming out of you. I didn't mean to find it so funny. I'm sorry."

"Should I take that as a no, then?" he asked, still looking wounded.

"No, no, God no. Of course I'll be your girlfriend." I watched as his face transformed from an adorable pout to a megawatt grin that made his eyes sparkle with joy. I couldn't help but join in his happiness and giggle with giddiness.

"You've just made me the happiest man alive," he said, pulling me into his arms. He nuzzled my neck, kissing along my jaw bone and cheek. Wherever he could reach.

Christian PoV

I couldn't believe she said yes. This amazing woman who had grown leaps and bounds in the past week had consented to being in a relationship with me, fifty shades of fucked up, Christian Grey. I knew at that point that I had to be fully honest with her. I had to tell her exactly why I did what I did with women.

"I have a confession to make," I said as we settled down from our jubilance.

"Okay," she replied, already sounding a bit nervous.

"I want to be fully honest and forthcoming with you, like Flynn said we should. I want to tell you why I am a Dominant. Or rather, why I pick the women I do. Why I originally wanted you for a submissive."

"Okay," she said again, turning towards me so she could look into my eyes.

"I understand if this is a deal-breaker, if you want nothing more to do with me after this. I will let you go with no hesitation and…"

"Christian, just tell me," she said, cutting me off.

"I prefer brunettes," I began. "Petite, pale skinned brunettes with long hair because you all look like the crack-whore who birthed me." I closed my eyes as I waited for a response from her.

"Hmm," she finally said. I snapped my eyes open and honed in on hers. I couldn't read what I saw in her eyes, but disapproval and anger were not there. "That makes sense."

"What?" I couldn't believe she condoned it.

"Well, I'm sure you had a lot of anger towards her for what she put you through during the first few years of your life. You want to get back at her, show her what she did to you, how much her actions or lack of actions affected you growing up. But you can't, since she took that away from you, too. So you seek out women that resemble her and are more than willing and able to endure any punishment you decide to deliver, thus feeding your needs. You're not a sociopath, or you would just go around willy-nilly beating and abusing unsuspecting brunettes. But instead, you find consensual agreements that the women exact pleasure from, too. I think it makes perfect sense."

"You're… you're really okay with that?" I asked, completely astonished. How could she be so understanding?

"Well, I don't know that I'm 'okay' with it, but I understand it. I think there are other possibly more constructive ways to deal with your feelings. Which I'm sure is one reason why you see Dr. Flynn. I had a similar affliction for a few years. I was unwilling to let Miranda be a mother to me. I was far too self-sufficient, and I wouldn't let her touch a hair on my head. My anger towards my biological mother stood in the way of me allowing any one to be my parent after that. I tried to keep her from my siblings too. I felt that I needed to take care of them by myself, and that we didn't need anyone. It took Miranda's own mother, my Mammaw showing me how much my actions were hurting her, for me to change my ways.

"She showed me that I didn't need to take my anger towards Rebecca, my biological mother, out on Miranda. Miranda didn't do anything wrong, in fact, she saved me from the horror of the foster system. She was willing to adopt all three of us at once, so we wouldn't have to be split up. She adopted a five year old girl who had all kinds of problems, when there were plenty of newborns that needed homes, too. Ones that wouldn't be so much work, and wouldn't be so damaged. Mammaw taught me that parents should love unconditionally, nurture, teach, and care for their children. That Rebecca was not the norm. And finally, I accepted that, and I let Miranda in."

"Okay, so what you're saying is that I need to let go of my anger towards the crack-whore. Not take it out on young women who look like her. But what can I do instead?" I asked. Doing what I did was all I knew. I couldn't think of any other way to release the anger.

"How effective is it?" she asked. I looked at her questioningly. "Well, you say you continue to do this, even wanted me as a submissive. So that tells me that I'm not the first, right? There have been at least a few, I imagine. After all that time, after all those women, do you feel any less angry towards your mother?"

"No," I replied quietly.

"Alright, so that tells me that this form of therapy, if we can call it that… isn't working. I no longer feel angry towards Rebecca. She did horrible, awful things to me and my brother. She killed herself the day my sister was born, leaving me with a barely functioning toddler and a newborn to care for. She made it so I was terrified of life and everything in it for the next two decades. But rather than being angry, I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry that she let her addictions control her life. I feel sorry that she chose the drugs over her own children, that she considered us a burden and an annoyance rather than a blessing.

"I've risen above her, Christian. I've become better than she could have ever hoped to be. It's like the often used plot in various movies and TV shows. The kid that gets beat up and bullied in school becomes more successful than the kids that bullied them. Showing that even though you put me down for years on end, I rose above it, became better than you. And even if they were capable of bullying the bully, they've risen above that as well. I think you could take on the same ideal.

"Think of what you might have become if Grace and Carrick hadn't adopted you. If you'd either stayed with her, if she hadn't died, or if you'd wound up in the foster system. How would you have turned out, do you think?"

"I probably would have spiraled down the same path she did, and been dead at twenty, more likely as not."

"Right, so you've risen above her, haven't you? You've shown her, that even though she was a shitty mother who let her boyfriends beat and abuse you, you've become so much more. It shows her that 'no matter what you did to me, I'm still standing. I'm still strong. And I always will be.' You're a twenty-seven year old billionaire, CEO of a global company, and have landed the most eligible bachelorette in Seattle. I'd say you've come a long way, my dear. And it's not so much about superiority, but about achievement. She likely had the world at her feet when she was young, and instead chose to throw it all away to get high."

"You're right," I told her. "You're absolutely right. I've already exacted my revenge, so to speak." Why would I need to whip little brown haired girls when I've already shown the crack-whore how much better I am than she is? I still felt the compulsion to dominate, but not so much to punish.

I didn't want to punish Anastasia. That was a true revelation. Even if she defied me, even if she lied to me or did something unthinkable, I didn't want to ever hurt her. I remembered the look in her eyes when I touched her wrist for the first time. She was completely terrified. I couldn't imagine how scared she would be if I took a cane to her, or even spanked her. Perhaps eventually we could move into pleasurable spankings, but I would never ever punish this wonderful woman.

"I should be paying you instead of Flynn," I said. "You've shown me so much more in the past few days than he has in the past few years. Thank you, Anastasia Steele. For not only consenting to be mine, but for showing me your strength and power, and that even though we both have gone through such hell in our lives, that we have overcome it all."