Just Breathe Chapter 6 – Things to Discuss: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Escala - Friday after dinner
Ana's POV
After we ate, Christian held my hand; rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. "Thank you for coming to dinner. I told you Monday there were things to discuss."
"Yes there are things to discuss." I said. I take a small sip of wine.
"Agreed," he said. "Let's start with a tour of the place." He helps me to my feet.
"Do you play?" I nod in the direction of the piano. He nods. "I suppose you play at concert level…" I tease.
"Perhaps," he smiles. "I've been playing since I was six. I don't watch TV unless it's for business. I don't read for leisure because I read so much for work. Because I'm behind a desk or at a conference table a great deal during the day; I try to have physical pursuits as hobbies rather than sedentary ones. Piano playing takes my mind away for hours."
"Of course you play well. Is there anything you can't do well?" I ask.
"Yes… a few things," he admits, but he does not elaborate.
XX
Thirty minutes later, after having seen every room except the staff quarters, we are upstairs at the last door at the end of the hall. "This is my playroom," Christian said.
"Playroom?" I frown. "The TV and Xbox are downstairs in the media room."
He unlocked the door. "No Xbox or TV in here..." he hesitates. "You can stay if you want. You can leave if you want. Taylor will take you home at any time. It's fine whatever you decide." Suddenly he's uneasy.
"Are you hiding Bertha Mason in this room? You are very nervous all of a sudden," I ask, leaning on literary references. I watch him pause; contemplating what to say next.
"Bertha who…?" His eyes are clouded with confusion…or maybe it's fear.
"Just open the door, Christian," I say.
He opens the door and stands back to let me enter. I gaze at him once more. He said there are things to discuss. We step into the room and Christian turns on the light.
While my mind is flooded with questions; it is the assault to my senses that stops me in my tracks. The smell, the lighting, the warmth of the woods of the furniture and floor, the oxblood leather, the unusual furniture and furnishings. I engaged in creative writing in college; but I would be hard pressed to adequately describe this room. Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, subdued lighting and oxblood leather make the room appear soft and romantic at first glance. It's the hard things in here that are the flip side to romantic…the paddles, the whips, the canes, the metal track on the ceiling, the chains. I touch the bedposts on a bed that is big enough to accommodate…NO, I'm not going there! Ray, with his fascination with woodworking, would love these bedposts…probably not the bed…in this setting…but he'd love the bedposts.
Christian leans against the door, keeping it propped open if I decide to cut and run. He regards me intently as I knew he would. His expression is completely unreadable. I sink down on the oxblood leather couch and put my head between my knees. I don't know where it comes from, but suddenly I giggle nervously. I look up at him. "Well...no one expects the Spanish Inquisition..." Having said that, I laugh hysterically into my knees again.
"Excuse me?" Christian obviously didn't expect this reaction.
I struggle to control my laughter. "Monty Python's Flying Circus," I look at him like he just grew a second head. "You've never seen Monty Python?"
"Clueless..." he admits.
"Kate and I are addicted to BBC America. Downton Abbey? Sherlock? Masterpiece Classics? Masterpiece Mysteries? Dr. Who? You really don't watch TV?" He shakes his head no to all my questions. He probably watches ESPN while he works all weekend since he has that big screen TV.
"So, flying, gliding, sailing and… a playroom… not a dungeon?" I ask.
"Playroom," he replies.
"That would imply Dominant, not sadist, correct?" The giggles are gone. Panic…panic stands at the starting blocks for flight or fight mode.
"You know something about the lifestyle?" He's surprised.
"I read Ulysses in college at the same time as taking Human Growth and Development class. Discussions of alternative lifestyles explained a lot about what was going on with Ulysses. There's a spanking scene in the Brothers Karamazov. And Kate…well, she's a Stephen King fan and she read excerpts of Gerald's Game to me. There was a book I read for Human Growth and Development whose character Alex had a playroom…I can't remember the name of it right now. We read excerpts from The Story of O," I shrug. "We had to view DVDs of alternative lifestyles and write a journal synopsis of what we viewed; noted any questions we had; plus list additional research we completed on topics. I know a great deal about transgendered humans and Trinidad, Colorado. I know a lot of surgical advances made in the war on Iraq benefitted transgendered humans. Just because I'm aware of it does not mean I'm transgendered. Just because I am polite and reserved does not mean I'm submissive." I explain quietly. "Is that why you are showing me this room?"
"I don't do the girlfriend thing. I engage in BDSM contracts with submissives." He has trouble looking me in the eyes. His eyes flit from one corner of the room to another, glancing at furniture, glancing at wall hangings.
"Of course you're a Dominant," I laugh so hard, I put my head between my knees again to keep from becoming lightheaded and passing out.
"Excuse me?" His voice took on polar vortex characteristics.
I lift my head and look at him. "Of course you're a Dominant. You are a self-made billionaire who doesn't do girlfriends. You give orders and scores of men in black make it happen. The clues were all there; I just wasn't Sherlock enough to put them together. I knew the moment I stepped into your ensuite at the Heathman that you were a man who knew how he liked to be touched…only…" I lift my arm as Exhibit A. "You don't like to be touched." I pause and look at my toes. "A Dominant is one side of the equation. Did you show me this room because you're looking for a new submissive?"
"When I first saw you at graduation; I felt a connection to you. You called me sir during our lunch and it made me want you more. In the elevator when you landed in my arms; I thought about how much I would like to share this room with you." He says honestly.
I'm silent. I look at the canes and the whips and the paddles…and I think about how much of this room I don't want him to share with me. "Share…as in an honest discussion of your playroom? Or, share as in spending time in here together…or share as in more than one female in here at a time?" Panic crossed the finish line and is fleeing the stadium…
"Share as in an honest discussion of my playroom. I'm sure you are inexperienced about some things; but this is what I am. This is the sexual lifestyle I engage in," he says.
"How many…?" I cannot articulate the question.
"Submissives?" He asks casually.
I nod.
"Fifteen over six years," he explained.
"Is it easy to find them? Women who want to do this with you?" Panic is now a long-distance runner training for the Olympics.
"My personal preferences shrink the pool of candidates. I like petite brunettes with pale skin. I don't like women who drink excessively and swear like sailors. I won't tolerate drug use or cigarette smokers. I prefer women who are physically fit and intelligent. I like women who act like ladies in public; but who are willing and eager participants in the playroom. I had some one-night stands in the club scene when I first returned to Seattle when I was 21, but they were unsatisfying. As my business grew, I felt the need for privacy. I don't frequent clubs, I don't attend parties. I don't hire prostitutes. I contract with sexually submissive women."
"How long do your contracts run?" Let's see, 72 months divided by 15 women is less than five months each because 5 x 15 is 75; assuming there is no down time between women. For Goddess sake – look at that man – down time? Seriously? I'd spend 24/7 kissing that man except I need to work and he has an empire to run.
"We usually start with a three-month contract. Either of us can walk away at any time. My longest relationship was 18 months. She was fun and lively and I enjoyed our time together. She wanted more; I didn't. After we terminated she married someone else. My shortest relationship was a month. She was a functioning alcoholic and I didn't know. I've never been with someone who didn't want to be with me. I've never been with someone who was married, engaged or in a relationship. I've never been with someone who had children because I didn't want to be the reason their mother was not there to tuck them into bed at night. I'm monogamous in my relationships."
"More?" I'm confused.
"Hearts and flowers. She wanted to be more than my submissive. She wanted to be my girlfriend, significant other, wife…"
"Do you still see any of them?" I ask.
"Socially, professionally or like a friend with benefits? I'm not sure what you are asking." His eyes are a little wary.
"The submissives, do you see them now…like a friend with benefits?" I ask.
"No, once our contract is terminated, they go their way and I go mine." He explained.
"Did you terminate the contract with all of them or did any of them terminate with you?" I ask.
"One of my submissives terminated her contract with me after nine months."
"Why?"
"She felt I betrayed her trust. Trust is the foundation between a Dominant and a submissive." He shrugged. "I don't – I didn't feel I betrayed her trust. She was hospitalized for emergency surgery the morning after we terminated. She would not have been available to continue the contract because of her health. Some contracts mutually terminated and I've terminated contracts because my submissive wanted more from me or because they broke rules."
"So, you don't see your submissives casually then, once the contract is terminated." I ask.
There was a long pause..."One of my submissives was studying to be a doctor and I helped her financially with her student loans while she completed her internship and residency. Since my mom's a doctor, I saw my ex-sub socially a few times over three years. She's married to her new Dom. She's established in her career and does not attend the same fundraising events I do. She and my mom work at different hospitals. We haven't had contact in three years." He answered. "She is also the reason I do not contract with women who have on-call professions."
"Did you ever hurt any of them? Physically?" I ask, suddenly sick to my stomach. Oh Goddess, do I really want to know this.
"I hurt one of my subs by accident during a suspension scene. I got her medical help. It wasn't a broken bone or a permanent mark, but we mutually ended the contract. She needed to heal and I needed to process how it happened."
"Ropes and suspension…are they the reason for the carabineers in the ceiling?" I look up and observe the grid and the carabineers.
"You noticed them," he sounded surprised.
"Yes, well, it's one of the things I learned from working at Clayton's Hardware. I would ask if you use natural or synthetic rope and whether you used twisted, single braid or double braid rope, but I don't think I really want to know." I paused again. "Did you show me this room to break the ice about...?" My voice is oddly calm. I can't even think it; let alone say it.
"I can't stop thinking about you. I fantasized about playing with you in this room, but that was before your broken arm." He admits. "I don't know how you feel about me now that you've seen this room."
"Is my broken arm the reason you haven't tried to seduce me?" My inner goddess has taken control of my brain filters. He's had sexual partners, but not girlfriends. That's why he hasn't seduced you!
"I don't do seduction. I told you – I don't do hearts and flowers. I've never had a woman in my bed." He shrugs.
"You've never had anyone in your bed? Not college, not..." I'm astonished.
Christian shook his head no. "I have nightmares. I can be physically aggressive when I'm having a nightmare. It's not safe for my security staff to wake me. It's not safe for my submissives to sleep with me. My submissives had their own bedroom. Additionally, I have haphephobia – the fear of being touched. I don't like people to touch my chest or back. I contract with submissives and we engage in mutually acceptable sexual activities in this playroom. It's written into their contracts that they don't touch. It is a safety measure." He almost looks chagrined. "They arrived on Friday nights and went home on Sunday nights. They would meet me here, in this room where I would restrain them so they couldn't…"
"Can we leave this room?" I interrupted him, leaping to my feet. I'm ready to run from the ghosts of fifteen submissives.
He locks the door to the room, takes my hand and guides me down to the study. "I know you have a lot to think about. I want to be with you, but I don't know any other way than the lifestyle I've lived. Having said that; I don't want you to be afraid of me. I'm so sorry about your arm."
"So when I punched you that day in the park, you shoving me away from you was an automatic response?" I asked.
"Yes and I'm ashamed I hurt you. I want to be with you, Anastasia. I need to know how you feel about being with me since I hurt you and since you know my sexual lifestyle." His eyes are anxious but his voice is calm.
"Just so you know that center mass punch was an automatic response on my part. I don't like being grabbed from behind. My dad taught me to defend myself." I say hesitantly. "I also know that before I can be with you…sexually…I have to know you will be a safe sex partner."
"Safe, sane and consensual; that's the motto for my lifestyle." He pulled a file out of his desk and gave it to me.
Wow. Talk about prepared. "This is three months old," I look at his health report.
"I always have tests done before beginning a contract and when ending a contract. If my previous submissive comes back to me in a few months and tries to claim I gave her a disease, I am able to refute her allegations. It's never happened, but I believe in being proactive." He replied. "I don't jump from contact to contract. There is down time between ending a contract and beginning a new one."
He hasn't had a submissive in three months. "I don't have one of these, but I can get one if you prefer," I say.
"Please." He said. "If we decide to be intimate with one another; we'll use condoms until you have tests. I can send you to a clinic I use."
"Oh-kay," my voice sounds uncertain. "So, other than the NDA and the medical report, is there other paperwork to consider? You mentioned your previous submissives had contracts."
He pauses, struggling to find words. "I'm probably saying this badly, so please understand. I've never had this conversation with someone who wasn't in the lifestyle. I don't know how to have a sexual lifestyle which doesn't include a contract and the playroom. I'm worried if I show you a sample of a contract that you will leave and never talk to me again."
"Why," my voice softly asked.
"You didn't look at everything in the playroom. The chest, it's full of – well, all the adult stores and websites call them toys and I guess since I call it a playroom, toys is an appropriate word."
"Toys?"
"Battery operated boyfriends I believe young ladies call them. Clamps, cuffs, restraints – uhm, toys. If you saw a contract, it might help you ask questions you might not consider." He hands me the contract and I begin reading.
For once in my life I wish I didn't have excellent reading comprehension skills. I pause my reading, "They agreed to this? All fifteen? No touching? No looking? No speaking?" Holy shit, this man needs his head examined before he needs my medical report.
"As with every contract, there are negotiations. It's not so much the clauses part of the contract that we negotiated, but the rules part." He explains.
"There are rules?" I ask.
He hands me a list of rules. He chooses his submissives' clothing, personal grooming, birth control, sleeping, eating and contact with him. My heart sank. This was way worse than the house rules inflicted on me by Three. "Punishments for breaking rules?" I ask.
"I expect my submissives to behave a certain way. Punishments are part of that dynamic." He said.
"I can't be with someone who wants to hurt me; someone who looks for reasons to hurt me. I lived that with my mother's third husband. I won't do it again. You can't tell me you are making me a better person by punishing me. It's not going to happen. If it does, I'll fight back and I'll walk away. I've been hurt before –hematomas from hitting hurdles instead of sailing over them, twisted ankles, muscle sprains, pulled muscles, shin splints, etc. I understand how my broken arm happened, but I cannot be with someone who is verbally or physically abusive to me. I've made the decisions about my life since I was sixteen. I'm not going to be afraid to be myself. I'm not going to be afraid to be honest. I'm not going to worry that you don't like what I wear. I'm not going to worry that you don't like my friends. I'm not going to worry that you don't like me defending myself. I'm not going to worry that you don't like me thinking for myself. I will not be micromanaged by someone who barely knows me. I state firmly.
"Fair point well made." Christian said. "I am sorry about your arm. I have no excuse. Anastasia, But, I'm not abusive in the playroom. Yes, I expect my submissives to behave, but their punishments were not more than they could handle. I can arrange for you to talk to one or two of my previous submissives. You can ask them any questions about me."
"Thanks, but…no. I don't want to know what a previous woman in your life thinks about you or your punishments or your sexual abilities. What I think of you will depend on how we interact with one another." I shrug.
"This is very hard to explain to someone who isn't in the lifestyle. BDSM is a control mechanism for me. It kept my submissives from touching me; yet allowed me a sexual outlet. However; I can't stop thinking about you. I want to spend time with you. Part of that dynamic is I want to have sex with you." Christian says.
"But your definition of sex and my definition of sex are worlds apart." I murmur. "Hard limits?" I looked up from the contract. He handed me another typed sheet of paper. I read them and although they might sound sensible to someone like Christian, I feel nauseous again. Panic just won a gold medal in the flight or fight tournaments. "Just so you know…there is no negotiation on this. OH HELL NO, we are not doing anything on this list." I waved the paper at him. "I imagine as I research your lifestyle there will be more items on the OH HELL NO list."
"That is my list of hard limits. If there's anything you don't like to do sexually, we can make that a hard limit. If there's anything you are unsure about, but might like to explore, we can make that a soft limit." He offered eagerly.
This beautiful man has a dark secret and I can't get my head around that. I'm in shock. I don't know what to say. Kate told me about some of her sexual conquests, but complaining about someone who can't kiss, or someone who snores, or someone who expects oral sex all the time, or a partner who expects you to provide the condoms as well as sexual entertainment, or someone with no staying power doesn't COMPARE to what I've learned tonight. And…I have a NDA…I can't ask her how weird this all might be.
"This is never going to work between us if we aren't honest with each other. I'm normally good at reading body language, but I'm not getting a clue from you about what you are thinking." He observes me.
"Things to discuss," I laid the contract down. "You know how I didn't move to Seattle until I researched my options? Well; I've always been accused of over thinking things. I can't go into your Red Room of Pain without doing some research."
"Red Room of Pain," he chuckles. "It's about pleasure, Anastasia. It's about pushing your limits. You should research, but I will be glad to answer any questions you have. Start with Wikipedia." He suggested. "I thought about this. I'm not comfortable with you being in the playroom at this time. I want you to be healed. I know you still experience some pain in your arm. I don't want you to equate the pain of your injury with the lifestyle I want to share with you." He paused. "Having said that – I don't know if I can survive for five weeks without touching you."
"So, you've shared your secret with me; it's time for me to share mine with you." I take a deep breath, place my hands on my knees and square my shoulders. However, I can't articulate what I need to say.
After a very long uncomfortable pause, Christian decides to play 20 Embarrassing Questions. "It's that time of the month?" He questions sardonically.
I blush, "NO!"
"You like girls, not guys." He smirks.
I blush, "NO!"
"You have an STD?" He acts like he's running down a list of required questions.
I blush, "In order to have an STD, one has to have had sex."
He pauses and considers my reply, his face in shock. "You've never been sexually active?"
I look at my hands. "No."
"You're a virgin?" He roars.
The tone of his voice vexed me beyond anything I knew. It was worse than a lecture from Ray or Carla and multiple times worse than a Kate inquisition! "Oh, thank you! Thank you for making my sexual inexperience sound worse than a sexually transmitted disease! I'm sorry I don't have a clue how to negotiate a contract for sex!" I jump to my feet and head for the door; throwing his paperwork in his face. I was completely stupid thinking I wanted to lose my virginity to this man! I storm to the great room to gather my things and leave.
"Why the hell are you on the pill?" He demanded.
"How do you know I'm on the pill?" I stare at him. "Don't tell me you checked my medical background because that's invasion of privacy and I won't put up with it!"
"I saw them in your medicine cabinet when I was at your apartment taking care of you. Along with the large box of condoms."
"Birth control pills aren't just used to prevent procreation. Some people, like me, use them to regulate my cycle and lessen cramps. Running in a track meet is a bitch when you have cramps so bad you want to lay in bed; eat chocolate and kill every member of the male species who leers at you." I glare at him and then I'm horrified. "Oh my god! Kate's pills weren't there because she took them to Barbados, so you thought the condoms were mine? I'm sorry – the multi-colored; multi-sized, multi-flavored, multi-sensation, multi-lubricated condoms belong to my sexually aware and adventurous roommate. She meant to move them to her private bathroom, but we're still unpacking. Her bathroom was full of boxes of clothes the last time I looked." I'm so embarrassed, I can't wait to leave. I stormed past him, heading for the elevator.
"STOP!" He shouted. "I don't want to grab you, but this conversation is not over!" He maneuvered in front of me so that I had to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?"
"Excuse me..." I narrow my eyes at Christian. "I signed an NDA for you, guaranteeing I don't discuss things. I don't discuss my lack of sexual history...let alone wear an embroidered V for Virgin on my clothes."
"Hasn't there ever been anyone? The track and field guys, classmates, a study buddy, or Ethan, or José?" He stares at me, uncomprehending.
I stare at him. "Kate is like a sister, which means Ethan is like a brother...and ewww...thanks for that visual." I shuddered. "José is just a friend no matter what Ray or José Sr. might want. There's never been anybody because my scholarship, supporting myself and graduating from college came first. They came first because I saw what happened to my life and my mother's life when she put men and relationships first. I spent my time working, studying or maintaining my scholarship. I didn't drink or do drugs because of my scholarship. I spent my spare time reading novels and going to English movies; not engaging in sex as way to pass the time or as, in your case, an extreme sport!"
"I wouldn't call it that!" Christian defends himself.
"Please…" I put my hands on my hips. "You have a playroom filled with furniture and toys for your submissives to explore their sexuality." I air quoted around explore their sexuality. "There is more equipment in your Red Room of Pain than in my college track and field equipment room. You probably have more events in that room than in a track and field event! I haven't had the best examples regarding relationships. My mother's been married four times! Ray hasn't dated since he and mom got divorced. And now I meet you, the first man to pique my interest…a man who looks like a Greek God, who kisses like a Greek god…and you don't have relationships…you have sexual contracts with young women who don't look at you, touch you or interact with you."
"Have you ever been on a date? Kissed a boy goodnight?" His questions are insulting.
"Yes! I'm not a complete innocent! I dated in high school, I dated in college. I have kissed young men goodnight. It's just that I've never been kissed like that!" I put my hands on my hips again and glare at him.
"Like what?" He frowned.
"The way you kiss me...it's overwhelming...I can't think when you kiss me like that." I snapped.
"You like it when I dominate you with kisses," Christian chuckled. "It's not a solution to our situation, but it's a start." He pushed my hands behind my back with one hand; his other arm circled my waist. He pulled me down onto his lap as he sat on the couch. His arm left my waist and slid behind my neck, his thumb on my jaw, pulling my mouth to meet his. His lips crashed onto mine; kissing me long and hard.
The heat of his body, the pressure of his lips, the smell of his aftershave…I was lost in the sensation of Christian Grey. My body tightened, my senses exploded. I moaned and he took full advantage. The longer he kissed me, plundering my mouth, the more I wished he would never stop. My tongue joined him in a wanton dance. His kisses are sensory overload…I lost control of my thoughts as his kiss deepened and his tongue pillaged my mouth. Jack Foley and Benny Hogan… Viola and Shakespeare…Bridget and Mark…Amanda and Graham …OMG this man can kiss! I sigh with regret as his kiss begins to subside. The final stage of his kiss was light little brushes of his lips kissing me from one corner of my mouth to the other. He releases my hands and I clasp his forearms while he holds my face and presses his forehead against mine like Mr. Darcy did with Elizabeth Bennett in the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice.
"I know you said safe, sane and consensual…but I don't think kissing me until I lose my mind qualifies as sane." I say.
"I haven't stopped thinking about your mouth since the day we met." Christian says.
Well, whatever you've been thinking or fantasizing…it's not happening tonight." I say. "If we're going to have a relationship…a sexual one as well as an emotional one…we're starting from scratch. I know I can't touch your chest or back…I accept that for now. But we're starting with the basics, both of us. Making out, first base, second base, third base…"
"But no home run until after the third date." Christian interrupts me.
"How do you know that rule if you don't date?" I ask.
"Elliott talked about it. He's sort of a man-whore of Seattle. I doubt there is a blonde in a 100-mile radius of Seattle that he hasn't bedded – either as a one night stand, a one weekend fling or a standing friends-with-benefits relationship."
I keep my mouth shut about the attraction between Elliott and Kate. If Christian finds out about it and asks me…I truly can say I don't reveal other people's secrets. "Can you do that?" I asked. "Just make out with me until after our third date?"
"I can do that if dinner and the helicopter tour counts as our first date." He said.
"Acceptable." I smiled.
"Does tonight count as a second date?" He asked.
"It will if a movie, not your playroom, is entertainment and if you make out with me while we watch the movie." I explained.
"I'm not sure if I know how to make out," his voice is doubtful.
"You never made out in the back seat of a car? Never gone on a picnic and made it to second base in the tall grass? Never played touchy/feely in a closet when you were at a boy/girl party in high school? Never made it to third base in a limo on the way to or from the prom?"
"I'm not going to ask how you know about those things," he said; his voice harsh and raspy.
"I read books, I watch movies and I live with Kate Kavanagh. You know…the roommate with the large box of lubricated pleasures?" I smile. "So, never a normal boy-girl relationship?"
He shrugged. "I told you – all I know is the playroom. I mean, I know different sexual positions, but in context with the BDSM lifestyle."
"Come on, let's go watch a movie." I move off his lap and hold out my hand. He lets me lead him to the media room.
"I don't have a clue how to run anything in this room," he admits. "I mean, I can turn on the TV, but I don't know how to run the DVD player, the cable box, the streaming video feed, or the home-theatre system."
"Well…we need Taylor." I examine the equipment and don't know how it's all hooked up.
"Really?" Christian ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm not comfortable with that."
"It's either Taylor or I go home for the night. Maybe over the weekend you can get lessons on making electronics work." I suggest with asperity.
Christian stepped out of the media room and yelled, "Taylor!"
Taylor's POV
Shit…Grey is yelling for me. I saw him giving Miss Steele the tour of the penthouse and almost held my breath the whole time they were in the playroom…but he didn't shut the door. I had to turn on the CCTV. She's laughing hysterically…No one expects the Spanish Inquisition. OH GOD! I spit my coffee over the CCTV screens. I went to get a towel to clean up my mess. I turned off the CCTV for the playroom and sent up a silent prayer that Miss Steele has a backbone that rivals her name. They moved from the playroom to the office, to the living room. I thought she was leaving, but he kissed her and they talked. What I thought would be a goodbye scene was them walking hand-in-hand to the media room.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I get to the TV room. It is apparent Miss Steele wants to watch a movie. I can't blame her; that big screen TV should have more use than the occasional sports show for Elliott. Mia used it once to watch a finale of Project Runway, but Grey rarely watches anything other than an occasional bit of news or business show. Miss Steele asks me if I have Armageddon on DVD. I don't, but I connect her with Netflix easily and show her how to use the streaming video remote. I ask if I can make popcorn or something to drink, but Miss Steele says it's a lesson for the Boss. She hauls him to the kitchen and attempts to make microwave popcorn; but there is none to be found in the main kitchen. I offer goodies out of the staff kitchen. Miss Steele follows me and selects microwave popcorn, a six-pack of cold Pepsi and a large bag of Almond M&Ms. Miss Steele thanks me and returns to the kitchen to teach the Boss how to make microwave popcorn. After preparing a bowl of popcorn, a bowl of candy, two large glasses of ice and sodas; she announces they are ready for the media room. Armageddon looks great on the big plasma flat screen.
Please Lord, don't let that man fuck up…because if he does…I'm going to go Armageddon on his ass…I might not have a shotgun like Bruce Willis; but I will Taser his nether regions if he tries to bat a home run in the playroom tonight. I'll interfere and get my ass fired …but when I leave, Miss Steele is getting thrown over my shoulder and carried out of here for her own safety and protection. Big Daddy has spoken.
Christian's POV
I vaguely remember this movie, Armageddon. Elliott and his friends went to it. That's when the poster of Liv Tyler graced the wall of his bedroom. I remember being surprised because he always dated blondes. He still dated them, but Liv Tyler stayed on his wall for at least a year. Not that I disapprove of movie night…but Ana's breasts are so much more interesting than New York being destroyed. "Ana," I said, interrupting her obvious over-thinking of tonight's pending events. "You bite your lower lip when you concentrate on things. It's a huge turn on. I want to bite that lip…I want to bite it hard…I want to kiss it…and sometime soon…I want to feel it…"
"Don't be rude…" she scolds when she interrupts me. "Watch the movie. I picked an action one especially for you. I didn't think you would enjoy a Jane Austen movie."
"I'm not being rude. I'm being honest with you. We have to be honest with each other. If you aren't having fun…I'm not having fun." We start holding hands with one another. Then it's on to kissing, first base! Kissing her was oral domination. I push her down on the couch, laying at a 90-degree angle with one another. "You can touch my arms," I tell her. "Just please don't touch my chest or back." My hands wander all over her body, touching, stroking, cupping, caressing. I kiss her neck as my hands caress and cup and stroke her. I'm very careful not to mark her. Her skin is soft as silk and my hands glide over every inch of her skin that I can touch or feel. I touch and stroke her through her cashmere sweater. It is sensual, feeling her body in that soft sweater.
My hand slips under her sweater, cupping and stroking her breasts, finding her nipples and grazing over them with my fingertips. Then my hand reaches down and lifts her left leg over mine, giving me access to the apex of her thighs. I start stroking her, cupping her, rubbing the seam of her jeans until she moans. I keep it up until she starts pushing against my hand. I go back to cupping and stroking her breasts. "You fit in my hand, like you were made for me." I whisper in her ear, licking it, sucking it, nipping her earlobe.
"Thank you," she giggles.
"Why are you giggling?" I know I'm smiling.
"Because you have very large hands…" she giggled again. She held her tiny hand up against mine. My hand dwarfed her hand.
I kiss and nibble from the hollow of her neck behind her left ear to her right nipple. My warm breath makes her nipple erect. My mouth begins at her right ear hollow and I kiss and nibble down to her left nipple. Again, the heat of my mouth makes her nipple erect. My hand is between her legs, rubbing, stroking, feeling her body tremble under me.
I push her sweater up and kiss and nibble from her left nipple to her right hipbone. I feel her jeans getting damp between her legs. God, she is so responsive…and I'm surprised it is a turn-on for me. I start nibbling, nipping, licking, kissing from her right nipple to her left hipbone. By the time I get there, her body has begun a series of tremors and I know she is going to come soon.
"I like everything you are doing, but I don't want to touch. We have to find a way for you to touch me, but not have me touch your chest or your back." Ana said.
"I could tie you up…" I offered.
"Not a valid choice…" she replied. "Think of another way."
I move to the opposite corner of the couch and sit diagonally, my legs stretched out on the ottoman. "One knee here, one knee here, one hand here and one hand here." I pull her to straddle me. "Hold on to the couch, don't move your hands or…"
"I know…don't touch your chest or back." She said softly.
I start kissing her again, one hand holding her head, one hand cupping and squeezing her ass. I pulled her sweater off her and kissed the swell of her breasts over her bra. It was pretty and lacy, but she deserved satin or silk to caress that alabaster skin. I can tell she's enjoying the sensation of my lips on her skin because her legs tighten against mine. I unlatch her bra and my mouth eagerly seeks her perfect breasts. I can't help myself; my hands caress her glorious ass.
Ana's POV
He laid me back on the couch and lay down between my legs. I put my hands over my head and grab the edge of the couch cushion. I wrapped my legs around his body. He began grinding his hips against me while still kissing me. I can feel him rubbing his groin against me. He is so hard and so large, pushing against me through my clothes. I want more. My bare breasts rub against his linen shirt and I'm so turned on. Honestly, I'd let him do anything he wanted right now. I don't think I could refuse him. I don't think this is safe…I'm going to combust. I know it isn't sane…his kisses make me lose my mind.
He unzipped my jeans and slipped his fingers down between my jeans and my underwear. I moaned as he cupped and stroked me. "Oh god, I have to be in you," he said, sliding his hand into my soaked underwear. He began stoking me gently, running his fingers up and down between my legs. I felt like I exploded in his hand…I am soaking wet.
"Oh baby," he pulled his hand out of my pants and I know I whimpered when he stopped touching me. "Touch me," he begged, taking my left hand and helping me unfasten his pants, pushing them off his hips, stroking his very firm penis. His head fell back and his hands guided mine. He knows how he likes to be touched and I love that he's teaching me. I enjoy him holding my hand; making him erect. His hands leave mine and he reaches for my face, kissing me, as his body stiffens and I feel him jerk. His hot smooth skin feels so erotic. I laugh to myself…the asteroid in Armageddon explodes into millions of pieces as Christian explodes. "Oh my god," he moaned. He reached for his boxers and cleaned himself.
Kissing me again, his hands slid over my ass, pulling my jeans off. His hands pulled my panties off. One hand stroked me between my legs as his other hand found a naked breast and his mouth kissed and licked and sucked. I felt one finger slide into me and felt my body shake and almost fall apart. He rubbed, stroked and fingered me over and over again. I felt like screaming when my body began shaking uncontrollably. His mouth left my breast and he kissed me again…his mouth absorbing my cries of pleasure as I climaxed again.
Christian turns off the movie as the space shuttle touches down. I've been on a wild flight of emotions myself. I'm exhausted…I can barely move. Christian wraps me in his shirt, pulls on his jeans and carries me to bed.
"Sleep, my Anastasia," he says, sliding me under the linens on his bed and I am out before my head touches the pillow.
A/N:
Remember Ana watches BBC America and British movies: Jack and Benny: Circle of Friends; Viola and Shakespeare: Shakespeare in Love; Bridget and Mark: Bridget Jones Diary; Amanda and Graham: The Holiday. The 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice stars Matthew McFadden and Keira Knightley.
Thank you for the reviews and viewers; thank you for the messages and questions; thank you for the favorites and follows!
Shout out to Evynraeward– one of my favorite authors! I love her take on Christian and Ana. I love her José the best in the world. What's not to love about the Bingo Babes and the McKenna Madness?
I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. My story is the interpretation of my thoughts about how the characters could have, should have, would have acted.