A/N: I know some of you have been buying my books and I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart, I so very much appreciate your support. I think—I'm not sure but I think—that this month I may have enough book sales to pay my monthly Starbucks bill. :D

By the way, you can find me on Facebook or Twitter under Lulu Astor. I'd love for y'all to join me since I've made so many fantastic (and international) friends this way.

Chapter 34

He sweeps me into his arms and won't let me down despite my shrill protests—and I do mean shrill. I generally swing toward the conservative side so I would rather not let people who work for him happen to see me pretty much naked and in his arms after we've been indulging our baser desires in a kinky sex room.

Call me prudish.

Fortunately, we make it to his sumptuous master suite without incident and he proceeds to draw a bath for us. The tub is the equivalent of a small swimming pool and we both fit into it together very comfortably. In fact, I'm pretty sure we could fit another hunky man in with us if we tuck him right in on my other side. I giggle at the thought and Christian gives me a suspicious look, not quite the stink eye but close.

The stark white tub stands like a sculpture in the middle of the large dark-slate-lined floor. I love this room above all other rooms in the house, I think, for it's both peaceful and beautiful, like a room in a temple. The square tub with sharp angles and sitting atop a stone pedestal is sited in front of a huge arched window that looks out from the top of the world, serene in its vast remove. Apart from the glowing wall sconces, electric light is barely ever needed in this bathroom because of all the ambient light that filters in through the window, even after dark when the night is lit up by the moon and the city skyline.

Since I have on only a robe it's easy to undress; I drop it in front of the giant dark-wood-framed mirror that leans against one wall. Turning around to see my back, I'm shocked to see only a few small welts, here and there, though my skin from neck to ankle is flushed.

"Whaaaat? No way. How is it that you used a whip on me and I have, like, only a few marks?" I narrow my eyes at his amused expression. "Don't even try to tell me it wasn't a whip for I heard it crack and it felt like a freaking hot razor blade shearing my skin apart."

In the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, he stops and strides over, wrapping me in his arms, his long fingers tracing the raised welts on my rear end as he looks into the mirror behind me. "Look at you, all rosy pink from the flogger." His hands cradle my face. "Ana, I only used the very tip of the tail, nothing else. I wasn't going to mark you up, baby, not really, so I didn't lay the full whip on you—it basically danced over your skin and I landed it only six times." He pulls back to look at me. "Did it hurt?"

I nod vigorously because it did.

His index finger traces along my jaw. "I'm sorry, sweet. I won't use it on you again. I only tried it because you told me to treat you like any inexperienced submissive. I usually give a small taste of a single tail on the second or third time in, depending on how game the sub is. And you…" He kisses my neck and nips at my ear lobe. "…are very game, pretty girl."

Mollified, I smile. "I guess it wasn't so bad. It doesn't really hurt on impact but a second or two later—that's when the real kick sets in."

"Yes, that's true for all impact play. But…" He shakes his head, smiling. "…So dramatic you are. Shearing your skin apart? Really?" He laughs, his straight white teeth gleaming in the soft light. "C'mere," he says, turning me around, "let me help you into the bath and afterward I'll put some Arnica on those welts so they'll heal faster without bruising. There shouldn't be any lingering evidence anyway because I didn't strike very hard."

I place my hand in his and gingerly step into the steaming, fragrant water of the bathtub. "It's kinda too hot for me, Christian."

"Some like it hot," he quips. "I happen to be one of them. Go in slowly—it'll feel good as soon as you're acclimated."

So it does. Once he gets in behind me and I'm leaning on his strong, hard chest I feel a sense of perfect contentment descend over me. I'm just so happy when I'm with Christian and I think… and I hope… that he feels the same way. The look in his eyes in the dungeon, well, it was intense. It told me things that he's either unable or unwilling to say, or maybe he hasn't even realized its truth yet. I wonder how I might help him along?

"Sweetheart," he says, gently interrupting my stream of consciousness, "stop thinking so much and just be with me now, in this moment, in the hot water." His forefinger is tracing circles on my belly.

"Aren't you thinking?" I say as I hold up my hands to study the way the bubbles cling to my fingers and in between, stretching as I move my fingers apart. I used to love to play with bubbles as a child—as all kids do.

"Only about how good the hot water feels on my body… how silky your skin feels against mine… how I always love the way your hair smells… and about how much I like to be with you, Ana."

I pivot my head so I can look at his face. "Me too, Christian. Right now I feel better than I have in… well, as far back as I can remember."

"Good," he says, smiling. "After our bath, let's have a glass of wine and go to bed early. Shall we? I have a surprise coming for you this week."

"Really? What?"

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? You'll just have to wait until morning."

I pout. "Okay. Wine, bed, surprise. Got it."

"Well, I might slip something in between bed and surprise."

"Slip something in?" I giggle at his pun. "I guess I can live with that."

Kissing my head, I feel his lips moving in my hair. "I truly love the sound of your giggles, Ana. I will have to make it part of my life's mission to elicit more of them."

"You'd better," I say and flip my whole body so I'm lying belly down on him, sloshing a lot of water in the process. "I want it to be a lifelong goal on your part."

Instantly the smile fades away, replaced by anxiety. "Lifelong? Is that really what you want?"

I know I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve, so to speak, but sometimes you just get forced into one of these moments and you have to chin up and power through it. "Yes, Christian, it's what I want. The big question remains is it what you want? That's what I'm waiting to hear."

His arms tighten around me and his hand forcefully pushes my face down onto him. My ear right against his chest, I can hear and feel his heartbeat grow wings, going from calm to panic so fast. Wow. So this is what happens to my man when he's feeling backed into a corner. Fight or flight. Now I regret having forced the issue.

"Hey," I say, lifting my head. "I don't need to hear it right now. Okay?" Reaching out I gently caress his cheek and feel my chest constrict with the depth of my feelings for him. Love hurts, doesn't it? I love him so much—I don't know who I was kidding to think I could ever just walk away from him. No. No way. This man is mine and I'll do whatever I need to do to keep him.

...

On Friday my divorce papers arrive in the mail. I sign them and bring them to Hans in person for him to sign. I'm not taking any chances that something will go awry and I'll have to hear it from Christian even longer. We meet up in the same coffee shop as last time. Hans looks pitifully sad as he puts the nib of his pen to paper and my heart goes out to him. The thing is, it's silly for him to think there's anything still between us after so many years have passed. More importantly is that this divorce is critically important to Christian so for that reason I need to make it happen fast.

Still, I am sincerely hoping that things work out well for Hans and if there's anything I can do to help without absolutely infuriating Christian, I'll do it.

"Ana, will I ever see you again? You know, now that we are divorcing."

"I hope so, Hans. I'd like to keep in touch with your whole family. And…" I smile encouragingly at him, "I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed that things go well for you in this country. Maybe you can have a brand-new start-over."

"Why does keeping your fingers and toes crossed help?"

I burst out laughing, picturing it how he must be. "It's just an expression, silly. It doesn't really help—at least I doubt it." Before my mind starts wandering how it could possibly help, I gather my wits to finish the task at hand.

At least I got him smiling now. "Well then, keep them crossed. May I buy you lunch, Ana?"

"I can't right now. But call me next week and perhaps we can all go out for lunch together? I'd like to see Joline again… and your mom too."

"Are you going to marry Christian now, Ana?"

"Hans, I have to go right now. Can I answer that question next time? This way we'll have more time for discussion. It's not an easy yes-or-no answer."

"Okay, Ana. I'm glad it's not an easy answer." He kisses me on the lips but it's a quick brush. "Bye, beautiful. Until next week."

"Till next week," I say as I rise out of the chair, and I get out of the coffee shop, pronto.

Right after I leave the coffee shop I text Christian.

"Wanna have dinner with a divorcee?"

His reply comes back within seconds.

"That depends. What does she look like?"

"Hungry."

"My favorite kind. I'm in. What time?"

We meet at the Five and Dime Café at seven-thirty. I get there first and watch as Christian strolls in three minutes later, still in his suit, and for once looks off: his suit is rumpled, his hair is messy, and he has dark circles around his soulful eyes. Despite all of that, every female he passes does a double take so I feel gratified when he completely ignores all the stares he gets, his eyes totally fixed on me. He swoops down to kiss my offered cheek before sitting down.

"You look exhausted, Christian. You need to take a break from the office now and then."

"Can't right now. Too many things happening." He catches the eye of a waiter and gestures to him. The man rushes right over.

"Yes, sir?"

"May I see your wine list, please?"

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry it wasn't given to you when you were seated."

I smirk as I watch the waiter fawn all over him. He looks up at me. "What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Just that I didn't get that deferential treatment from the waiter. What is it about you? The cut of your suit or how adorable you are that gets people moving to serve you?"

"Neither. It's the thickness of my wallet that does it every time. I've been here before and that waiter probably recognizes me as a good tipper. That's all, baby. Money makes the world go round."

I sniff. "Doesn't hurt that you happen to be seriously hot eye candy."

He frowns and shakes his head but I know he has to know how damn pretty he is, if only because of the constant female attention he garners without trying even a teeny bit. Not to mention from the gay boys.

"You do realize that it's a full-time occupation fending off the girls and even some boys when I'm with you, Christian?"

"Stop being silly, Ana. I don't look at anyone but you."

"Well," I say, stirring my water with the tip of my finger, "that may be true but while you're distracted by me, you're missing out on all the swooning coming your way." I put my wet finger in my mouth and suck it… just to fuck with him. Glancing up I see I have his undivided attention. He's such a dirty boy.

"Well… good. Now stop playing with your water, for God's sake. You're giving me a serious hard-on."

Giggling, I slip off my shoe and inch up his leg with my foot, exploring his thigh and even up a little higher. "Would you like me to duck under the table and deal with that for you, baby?"

It's like I flipped a switch: heat darkens his eyes and he smiles wickedly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I'd like that very much. Are you brave enough?"

"Oh I'm brave enough. Question is, will we get away with it? The table's not very big, is it?"

"I could get a more private table."

"Or would you prefer we duck into a bathroom stall for even more privacy? You can pick: girl's or boy's?"

"Now. Under the table. Put your money where your mouth is."

"Or my mouth where my mouth is, more specifically?" I nonchalantly glance around to see if anyone is looking. Unfortunately plenty are, since Christian is like a woman magnet. He looks around too and our eyes meet and we both burst out laughing. Yeah, it's so not happening. "Oh well. Hold that thought until we finish dinner, baby. I'll make it worth your while," I say, winking at him.

After dinner I keep my word. He has Taylor waiting outside for him in the Audi sedan. I pretend I'm taking a nap with my head on his lap and he covers me with his suit jacket. Once Taylor is on the road and focused on his driving, Christian unzips and I make good on my promise. Since I can't be so obvious as to have my head bobbing up and down, I have to use my tongue mostly. Still, the daringness of it makes me really excited and I get inventive, so much so that he tries to pull me off him. I suppose he doesn't want to come in the car, with Taylor possibly catching him at it. But I'm not going to let him stop me and he can't draw attention to us by making me stop so he has to just deal. I only wish I could see his face.

I don't want Taylor to know what we're up to either or I'll never be able to look him in the eye again but I just cannot stop. I can't. When I feel his grip turn nearly lethal, I know the moment is upon him and my tongue works frantically to bring him there. He spurts into my mouth, most of it going right down my throat so I only have to swallow the rest. I don't take my mouth off him until it's all done, so he doesn't get messy.

My God, but that was just such mad fun—mad being the operative word.

The car comes to a stop about five minutes later and he pretends to wake me up. "Ana, we're here, baby. Get up."

I do so slowly, as if I'm just waking. I don't know if we've pulled it off or not but if we didn't, it wasn't from lack of trying. I look at Taylor and he maintains a poker face. He gets out of the car to open the door for us.

"Sir, I'll take the car down to the garage if you won't be needing it again?"

"That's fine, Taylor. Ms. Steele and I will be remaining in for the rest of the night." Taylor nods and closes the door behind us.

Once we're in the elevator, Christian corners me. "You" he points his finger at me, "have retribution coming your way, Madame."

I'm giggling again but this time more out of nervousness than delight. I don't like the devious gleam in his eyes. "Why? What did I do?"

"I think you know what you did, Ms. Steele. Oh, yes, I think you do. And as I've heard it said, payback is a bitch." He grabs me and starts to tickle me relentlessly until I'm laughing so hard I'm gasping for breath. "Please stop. Please, I'm begging you," I stammer out between laughing spurts but he just keeps it up. I'm beginning to see the merciless Dom in him and though I'm laughing hysterically, I still am sort of cowering at the sinister application of the tickling.

Thank God the elevator gets to the penthouse and Christian has to turn a key to open the second set of doors thereby releasing me from the tickle torture, and out we go. I slip ahead of him, following his hand gesture, and as I pass he takes the opportunity to smack my rear end so very hard. It seems as if Mr. Grey is more than annoyed with me. Hmm, it doesn't bode well for me.

He decided since I refused to allow him to postpone his orgasm, he'll instead keep me from mine. Two hours later I'm lying in his bed, wrists and ankles trussed up, begging him with tears of frustration to let me come.

"Do you repent?" he asks.

"Yeessss," I whine. "I've already paid in spades, first with the tickling and now with the orgasm denial. I think payback is much more excessive than the original crime. Besides I was making you feel good—I thought you'd be happy."

He lowers his gorgeous face to mine. "You were, mon chéri, but I didn't want to have to enjoy the... culmination... in public. I would have preferred to be in the privacy of my bedroom."

"I'm sorry," I say, sincerely contrite. "I should have been more considerate of you."

He strokes my hair back off my sweaty face. "I forgive you, Ana sweet."

"Are you going to let me come?"

"Not tonight… but definitely tomorrow," he says, grinning.

My gasp is so loud that it makes him laugh. "That's so mean. Untie me now; I'm going home."

"No, you're not actually. You're spending the night with me so I can ensure you don't give the night a different outcome, shall we say?"

"Fuck you. Untie me now, Christian. I'm not playing anymore." I am seriously agitated and the high pitch of my voice gives that away. Orgasm denial is the most frustrating thing and when it's repeated and prolonged, it can make the calmest person go apeshit. As I am now… and if he doesn't release me it's only going to get worse.

"Ana, calm down. I will release you but you're not leaving. Agreed?"

I huff out my breath. "Fine," I say, even though I'm lying through my teeth. Not only am I leaving but I'm doing it straight away. It's alarming how a little playing around can escalate so severely but it has. I'm going home to my bed, a container of Häagen-Dazs, and a good book that has only nice men in it—men who give their girlfriends orgasms and don't hold grudges.

He begins untying my ankles and then one wrist but leaves my right one tethered. "What about this one," I say, wiggling my fingers.

"That one will stay for a bit… until I'm satisfied you're not going to try to leave. Now… what can I get you? Anything to drink? I thought we could watch a movie?"

Inhaling deeply, I consider my options. "Do you know how to make a margarita?" I ask, batting my lashes.

"I think I can manage. How do you like it?"

"Straight up, shaken not stirred, Cointreau instead of Triple Sec, salt on the rim. How's that for specific?"

"All right," he says, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. I suppose his senses, honed to sharp perfection in business dealings, are telling him he's being conned but he's just not sure how. I'm figuring that making a somewhat complicated drink will take enough time for me to work loose the knot holding my right wrist. Then I'll have the pleasure of dumping said margarita on his lap.

He leaves the bedroom and after waiting a few moments I get to work on the knot. After getting exactly nowhere, I growl in frustration. Fuck me. Christian's a sailor and knows how to tie nautical knots. I'll never get this thing undone before he gets back. I should have sent him out for sushi or something. Doesn't matter anyway, for he, being the suspicious bastard he is, pokes his head back into the room in less than a minute—and sees me frantically clawing at the knot.

"I knew you were up to no good, Ana." He smiles and shakes his head, his lips in a thin line. "Sadly for you, you'll never get it open unless I want you to. Now," he says, plopping next to me on the bed, "tell me: were you going to abscond?"

"Abscond," I say disgustedly. "Can you just talk like a normal person? No, I wasn't going to abscond. I was just going to dump the drink into your lap and then take my leave. Never would I abscond."

What does he do next? He fucking laughs! And not a chuckle, but laughs as in clutching-his-stomach laughter. Which serves to infuriate me all the more. Is he trying to entice me to murder? Cause he's doing a bang-up job. I draw my leg up and kick him for all I'm worth, aiming for his balls but his reflexes are too quick and I only get his upper thigh.

Between gasps of air and laughter, he says, "My God but you get ornery when you're deprived of your satisfaction. I'm not letting you leave, Ana."

"Why are you doing this to me?" I'm not happy to hear the whiney tone in my voice.

He comes closer to the bed and strokes me with one finger. "Must I share all of my dom secrets with you?"

I don't answer; I just stare stonily at him, picturing him with blood spurting out of his carotid artery.

"Ana, besides the whole dynamic of punishment and discipline… by withholding an orgasm it will make it ever more memorable when it's finally allowed. That is the point of all of this, isn't it? Sex on steroids?"

Well, he got to have his orgasm, didn't he? "Fine, you win. But be warned: the pleasure you enjoyed in the car ride home today will never be repeated and that's your punishment. We'll see how you like it."

He smirks "We'll see. Now, I'm going to make that drink for you but I'm afraid I'll have to lash your other wrist once again… in case you get any other ideas."

I allow him to tie my wrist. I know I'm not winning tonight so the drink is sounding better and better. Maybe I'll just get filthy drunk and vomit all over his bed. I will make him pay for this transgression, one way or another.

He makes me, like, the best margarita ever and I chuck it down fast and furiously, and then have a second. By the time I get three quarters down, I'm drunk. We watch Chinatown in bed and it's so nice snuggling with him even though he's currently at the top of my shit list. He's just so warm, handsome, and fun that I'm forced to make nice with the enemy. I do have one small consolation. Well, not so small: while I'm spooning with him after we turn off the lights, I feel a very hard object in his pants… so I know I'm not the only one going to bed unsatisfied tonight.

And that makes me very happy.

Just as I'm drifting off he mumbles in my ear, "Oh, tomorrow morning we're having brunch with Elliot and Kate so…" and he's out like a light.

Brunch… and I have no clothes with me here. I guess we can swing by the condo so I can change. Before I can figure out what I'm going to wear, I'm down for the count.