CPOV
To describe the fall out from Elliot's ex-flings blog as catastrophic would be dramatizing the situation to be sure. But to say it barely made a ripple would be off the mark as well. Everyone, and I do mean everyone in our lives has been affected by it in some way. My parents are doing what they can to just love him through it but they're embarrassed by the way he's been painted. Mia is caught in the middle of Elliot and Ethan who are so hostile towards each other there's no way they won't eventually come to blows. Even his housekeeper has been dragged through this by a zealous reporter who offered her a handful of cash for an inside story. Her refusal ultimately landed her a higher salary and the lifetime gratitude of my brother who is as loyal as they come but it was a sharp reminder that everyone, everyone in his life has to be fully vetted and signed in to an iron clad NDA.
Kate wound up staying with Ethan for two nights, more to avoid the press than to avoid Elliot according to her but I don't buy that for a second since she asked him not to come visit her. He gave her two days before driving over there and bringing her back here when she refused to go back to the house that he 'brought so many women to'. At first I thought she was being ridiculous but the more I thought about it and the more I heard her vent to Ana in the library over a constant diet of wine and ice cream, the more I understood where she was coming from.
I listened from the doorway while she choked on her description of their bedroom and the way it made her feel to look around and know that on that same bed that he makes love to her on, he'd been with so many women he'd lost count and while I found myself initially rolling my eyes, after awhile I couldn't help but see parallels to our personalities. The chances of me fucking Ana in a bed I know another man had her in? Zero. I'd burn the place to the ground first and that's a fact.
I have struggled with the red room since Ana came into my life for many reasons, one of them being the memories of other women and what I did with them while in there. For so long I saw my lifestyle as perverted but I know now that BDSM isn't a problem so long as it's done within the caring context of a mutual agreement and isn't a facilitator for my previous abuse to leak out.
But there are times when I look down at her on that bed or strapped to the cross and I can't help but think of the fact that other women have been in that position. That I have given myself, an intimate and private piece of myself to someone other than my wife. And while I'm not ashamed of my past, there is something so precious about the fact that she has only given those parts of herself to me, I can't help but feel inadequate in my inability to return that peace to her.
Which is why, three days after this entire thing blew up, I've had Welch set me up with a discreet contractor who specializes in rooms just like mine. I've made sure that Ana and Kate are nowhere around today since I don't need some guy seeing the things I do my wife on and then seeing her in the flesh. That would be like handing him the fantasy and fuck if I'm about to do that.
"Most people of your caliber prefer ebony wood for the bed and a coarser wood for the bench and the post," he says, measuring things as he goes and making notes in his tablet. "You know, for the uncomfortable abrasiveness of the wood."
"I have no post and don't need one. I need a new bench, table, dresser and bed made, all in dalbergia to match the cross which was commissioned a few months ago and is new. There's a woodworker out of New York I've used whom I trust to be discreet but if you have someone closer that can be fully vetted and is willing to sign an NDA I'd be willing to hire them expediency purposes. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the nature of this room and it's contents is confidential."
"No, Sir, you do not. Other than the NDA I've already signed and the briefing your security gave me, I'll also let you know that I've got a room like this myself and while I find nothing inappropriate about it, there's a nation of people who would see otherwise. Now, the bed you currently have is a California King. If you're going to host multiple people, I'd suggest going custom with a larger"
"Just two. There will only ever be two people on this bed so the current size is fine." On my way out I make a mental note to have Gail order us a new mattress as well.
Once he leaves I text Ana to see where she is and I'm not surprised at all when she tells me she and Kate are at Niemen's for some 'retail therapy' as Kavanagh calls it.
-Buy yourself something along the lines of 'husband therapy'. Make it lacy and tiny.
+Um, that may be awkward being as she's not exactly wanting to be faced with sex stuff right now. We're looking at shoes, not panties. Ass kicking shoes to be exact.
-Ana. The woman cock blocked me last night and again this morning. Make it so tiny I have to hunt for it.
"Sir, your brother is here," Taylor announces through the open door. Elliot strides in eating an apple and a few cookies that he must have swiped from Gail on his way back here and then falls into one of the wingback chairs opposite my desk.
"My future father in law is out for blood," he deadpans, flat eyes looking right at me as I toss my phone on the desk.
"Yours or this woman's?"
"Both," he groans, leaning forward with his head in his palms. "The man has no use for his kids like, ever but suddenly he wants to win father of the year by showing up unannounced last night so that he can tell me how it's going to be." Elliot uses air quotes and a sarcastic voice but there is no humor in what he has to say. "When I say this I'm not exaggerating, C. Kate knows about nine, nine affairs that he's had. And those are the ones she knows about so imagine the actual number. But he wants to come preaching to me about reputation and slander and responsibility and blah freaking blah. If I hadn't been half gone on Wild Turkey when he showed up I'd have knocked that fat pompous fucker out cold."
"Wild Turkey? What are you? 16?"
"Went right for the pain last night, bro. Swear to God I called around looking for some pot but nobody would bring it over."
"Thank Christ for that, dick. That's just what you need. Elliot Grey the whore loving druggie." And like I knew I would I get a little chuckle from him. Gail comes in just then and hands us both coffees and puts a plate of cookies in front of Elliot who thanks her without making eye contact before she walks away. "What the hell was that?"
"I can't look at her in the eyes, man. I feel like, like some sick pervert or something! Like everyone is judging me and waiting for me to whip my dick out so they can say they've seen it too."
I laugh right at him. "E, that woman has seen a number of women come and go from this very apartment knowing that I was preforming some pretty kinky and unorthodox sexual acts on them. Not once have I felt judged by her. If anyone can handle this, it's Gail. People are going to judge you, that's just life. You're gay if you don't date enough women, you're a prude if you date only a few, you're a pervert if you date a lot. You just have to live your life and ignore the bull shit around you." Leaning back I shrug and reach for a cookie. "Besides, I think we've done a pretty damn good job of keeping a lid on this."
Which is true. Don't ever let anyone tell you that the news isn't controlled by those with the most cash because it would be a downright lie. Between Kavanagh and myself we've pretty much ensured that anything related to this story has been buried at the bottom of every news feed and search engine not to mention the fact that Barney has made it virtually impossible to post anything with Elliot's name in it in any blog forum without being shut down with a virus. Illegal? Bet your ass it is. But we've got enough money and enough influence that trivial things like the law don't always matter.
"You have and I am forever grateful for that. Now if you could get my fiancée to come home to me, that'd be great. Did she tell you her dad plans on pressing charges against this crazy bitch and anyone who posted slander about Katie on the site?"
"He told me himself," I nod. I've had to deal with Kavanagh often over the last few days and Elliot is right, the man's a douchebag. After lamenting about how offended he was that he wasn't invited to my wedding, he then asked Andrea to bring him a tea at 'precisely 140 degrees' and then proceeded to eye fuck her right in front of me. "If he can get the appropriate gag orders, which with dad's help I don't think will be a problem, then I think you should slam her ass to the wall."
"Did that already," he grins, the old Elliot shining through for a moment. "Didn't turn out so great the first time."
"Do you even remember her?"
"Christian, not to sound like a real prick but I slept with so many women, they all kind of blend together after awhile you know? I mean, there are a few that stand out for one reason or another but this one? No recollection of her face or name though I do remember juggling all of the other women she mentioned and I vaguely remember a quick screw over the hood of a car at that nice apartment complex over on Ninth Street which is where Welch said she lives so...yeah, I guess I kind of remember her."
He catches me rolling my eyes and stands with his coffee. "You're going to seriously tell me that you remember every hole you stuck your dick into? Come on, bro. I ain't buying that for one second, not with your...history."
"No, I'm not saying that. And you know what? Referring to them as 'holes' is part of the reason you're in this mess."
"I didn't say it to them," he starts but my phone starts ringing on my desk just as Taylor walks in.
"You didn't have to say it, Elliot. Obviously you made them feel that way. Some of them at least, which I bet is why they're so bitter. What is it, Taylor?"
"Sawyer just called to inform me that your mother in law has reached out to Mrs. Grey and is talking about a visit in the near future."
"Carla called my mother?" I question because that can't be possible. Nobody is that stupid.
"No, the other Mrs. Grey. Your wife. About twenty minutes ago."
Elliot starts laughing and walks over to the couch, laying down and throwing his arm over his eyes. "Perfect," is all I hear before I pick up my phone to hear Kate hissing in the background.
"Kate?"
"Hi, Christian. Look, thought you should know that Carla is on the phone with your wife right now trying to finagle a free plane ride out to come see you guys. Hold on," she says, covering the phone to mumble something to Ana and then hissing into the mouthpiece again. "I keep telling her to hang up but she won't listen."
"How did she get her number?" I'm barking out at both Kate and Taylor but neither of them can answer me. On the other end it sounds like Kate has put the phone in her pocket but I can hear animated talking in between what sounds like wind. I am quickly becoming incensed by the lack of response from my team.
"You did? Why the hell did you do that, Ana?" Kate exclaims before huffing and speaking to me again. "Apparently she called Ana's office and Ana told Eliza to give her the number should she call again. Hold on again."
Hold on? What the fuck? This is too fucking annoying for me to deal with.
"Katherine! Put my wife on the phone."
"She's talking to her...hold on...Ana. Ana! Christian wants to talk to you...You tell him...No way, I told you to never speak to her again and...Oh crap, she's walking away from me now. Sawyer's with her but let me call you back okay?" And then she hangs up.
"She hung up on me," I say unbelievingly, looking at the phone in my palm. "She fucking hung up on me."
"Welcome to life with Katie," is all Elliot can say. "Did she say anything about me?"
"No but she was pretty focused on Ana." My phone rings again, this time the picture I took of Ana on the hammock in the Maldives in nothing but her turquoise bikini bottoms with an arm flung over her breasts pops up. "What the fuck is going on?" I start with instead of a customary hello.
"Geez, nothing! She misses me that's all. I told Eliza to give her my number so that I didn't have to call her. I want her to be the one who does all the work at mending our relationship."
"Mending your relationship? What relationship? She's nuts!"
"She's my mother!" is her quick and emotional retort. I can see that this is going to be a problem for us just like Flynn and my mom and Hemwattee and everybody who knows anything about mothers has told me.
Elliot raises one arm and swats at the air in a cease and desist move that I wisely listen to.
"You're right baby," I pacify her with while I mentally gather my arsenal of protection around us. No fucking way is that woman getting within a hundred feet of my wife. "What does she want? More money? We can set her up with a stipend to help her get her feet on the ground. Or was she calling about Morton's trial in January?" Remember? The trial of your abuser? Whom she stayed married to and chose over you and then gave your stolen jewelry to?
"She didn't ask for anything other than if she could come visit me. I mean, she said us but she knows you probably don't want to see her."
"Well, the chances of you being in the same room without me around is nil so if she wants to see you, she's going to see me too."
"Christian,"
"No, Anastasia. This woman wants something. It's her MO to take from you what she can and as your husband, it's my job to protect you from anyone who doesn't have your best interests at heart."
"I want to see her. I want to show her our wedding pictures and maybe show her the new house. I was thinking she could come for Thanksgiving and then she could meet your family..."
I know she's still talking but all I can hear is the blood rushing through my head at an alarming rate. I can not believe, after all that's happened, Ana still wants to give this bitch the benefit of the doubt.
"...and she's been doing her therapy every day and keeping a journal that she wants to share with me."
"Don't do it, bro," Elliot offers from the couch, arm still over his eyes. "You tell her she can't see her mom and you are asking for a heap of shit. I'm telling you, do not get in the middle of mothers and daughters. There is no relationship more complicated. You will always be the bad guy." His words ring true since they're the same ones Flynn said to me not even two months ago when we were afraid she'd show up at the wedding.
"Ana, we can talk about this when you get home okay? Gail's here today since she's taking off next week so you don't have to worry about dinner. Why don't you drop Kate off on your way home?"
Elliot sits up then, eyes expectantly on mine.
"I think she's going to stay with us another night, Christian." You have got to be shitting me. "It's not even that she wants to avoid Elliot as much as she just doesn't want to be in that house...ok, sorry, whore house."
Pinching the bridge of my nose is a dead give away that I'm not getting my way and I watch as Elliot falls back onto the couch only to stand up and pour himself a bourbon. I could use one myself right about now.
"I'd prefer if we didn't get involved in this baby and her staying here is putting us front and center."
"Don't tell them I'm here," Elliot whispers. "If she's coming back here, don't tell her I'm here. Maybe I can get her to talk to me."
"When will you be home?" I ask waving him off. Has everyone forgotten what manners are today?
"We're stopping at Franco's now for pedicures and waxes and then we'll be home. So figure around six. Can you ask Gail to put an extra plate out?"
Waxes? I'll do just about anything she wants including letting Kate stay here another night if I get to lick her freshly waxed pussy later. Hell, I'll put an addition on the house on the Sound just for breakups and sleepovers if she'll let me have her tonight.
"Sawyer called ahead to secure the salon?"
"Well we just told him five minutes ago but yes, he called right away and then let Taylor know. I'm surprised you didn't already know yourself."
Quickly I thumb through my texts and sure enough, I have a text from Prescott confirming that she's on her way to sweep the salon and the treatment room and has called in the esthetician Ana feels the most comfortable with.
Turning my back on the men in the room I walk to the window and lower my voice. "You'll leave that little landing strip I like, right?"
"Of course, Mr. Grey," she giggles as my dick tingles and jumps.
Once we hang up Elliot asks for a replay, groaning and falling back onto the couch when I mention the waxes. Well, Kate's wax because I'll be damned if I'm going to talk about Ana's body with anyone, brother or not.
"It's been four days and I don't know about you but Katie and I don't miss a day. This is like torture right now."
"She's withholding sex from you?" Not that I'm surprised. From what I hear, that's a pretty standard tactic that most women employ which is pretty damn stupid if you ask me. You want a man to do something for you? You entice him with the promise of sex, you don't threaten to take it away.
"Not withholding in the way you're thinking. She doesn't play games like that but she's just...sad you know? Besides being embarrassed she feels violated and to be fair, it's not me she's the most angry with. It's these women who are spreading this crap around she's the most upset with. I mean, they called her a whore and then asked for guys she's slept with to write about it. Who does that?"
"But nobody's come forward."
"Of course not, men don't act like this. Pretty ironic that they're all up in arms that Kate's had a few one nighters when that's all they were to me." He huffs out a long breath and reaches for another cookie, looks at it and then tosses it back onto the plate. "This blows."
"You need to figure out a way to get her home with you tonight because it's the weekend. I have no work tomorrow, Ana's home and I want a full day to do whatever the hell I want to with my wife and your fiancée being here is going to fuck that all up."
"Tell her that, not me. I get her not wanting to sleep in my bed, I get it. I've already taken it apart and told her to order a new one. I get not wanting to go out in public with me out of fear of someone harassing us. I even get her being pissed at learning just how many women I've been with but it's not like she had no idea who I was and what I was like. We fucked on our first date for Pete's sake! And yeah, I definitely went overboard on the female companionship and yes, it's shoved in her face on a daily basis but there have been a number of times we've been around someone she hooked up with too." Slamming down his drink and reaching for a cookie he adds, "Maybe we should just move or something. All I know is I'm not letting some scorned woman who knew I wasn't looking to date her ruin the best thing that's ever happened to me."
When his phone dings a minute later he groans and tosses it onto my desk. "Kavanagh wants to have a meeting with me and dad to go over the legal side of this mess. I can't stand that bloated piece of flesh! I would love nothing more than to shove all of his past dalliances in his face just to shut him up."
"Welch found out about 14 long term affairs of his, not nine."
"What?" he spits out, eyes wide. "Why would Welch know about that?"
"Business leverage," I shrug, taking a sip of his bourbon and reveling in the sting. "We've had a file on him for a few years now but Welch and Taylor kicked it up a notch two days ago when we knew we'd be dealing with him directly."
"Fourteen," he whistles, shaking his head.
"That we can confirm. I'm sure there are more that just won't show up on a radar too. If things get too heated between you guys though, just toss out the name Danielle Morelli. That'll shut him up."
"I'm afraid to ask."
"She was Kate's best friend in high school. Apparently her sleepovers were more than just girl time if you get my meaning."
"He was boffing his daughter's friend?"
"Yes. And before you ask, she was 18 but just barely."
"No shit," he breathes, leaning back and rubbing his mouth. "Now that is information I need."
"You need a PR rep and a leash for your junk," I snort.
"I've got a leash, her name is Kate. Call Bastille and see if he's available. I could use a good fight right now and mom would kick my ass if I hurt your pretty face right before the holidays."
Turns out Bastille was available, as I knew he would be since he works exclusively for me, and was able to be here in less than twenty minutes. My brother is a big guy. Well over six feet tall, probably a good 40 pounds heavier than me and I'm loathe to admit it but a good deal stronger. In our lifetime I've seen Elliot in more fist fights than I can count, a few of them with me on the receiving end but watching him today was the first time I realized just what kind of damage he could inflict should he want to.
I've seen Elliot angry but I've never seen him rage and this, this animalistic frenzied approach he's taken within the secure confines of my gym is unadulterated, blood thirsty rage.
A good two hours later, all three of us sweaty and loose limbed, Taylor indicates from the weight machine he's been using that the girls are pulling in. I probably should have told Ana that Elliot was still here but I can't stand to see him mope around one more minute so if throwing he and Kate together is going to help in that department, then that's what I'm going to do. I see his face go from focused aggression to anxious in a millisecond when I motion for him to head back upstairs and frankly it pisses me off.
"Hi Elliot," Ana says sweetly when the elevator doors open to our foyer. "Hi honey," she throws my way, that spark of dare I say lust sparkling in her bright green eyes. I know she likes me like this, a fact confirmed last week when I came up disheveled and sweaty from weight training only to be pushed up against the wall of our kitchen where she sucked me off in less than three minutes. I'm not even ashamed to admit I came that quickly. She's just that good.
"Kate," Elliot says softly with his hand stretched towards her. Thank Christ she takes it and steps towards him to hug him but he stops her, kisses her on the nose and whispers something about needing a shower and wanting to go home. The distraction doesn't work because she whispers back about staying here until there's no news trucks parked outside 'his' house. Denial or not, she's still got his hands in hers and she's still looking at him like she wants nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around her.
"Ana," I say quietly as I take the bags from her hands and steer her towards our bedroom to give them some privacy. "You've got to get her to go home. This is killing him and frankly, as much as I love my brother, I'm sick of seeing his face pop up on my phone every hour."
"I know," she breathes out, sitting in one of the chairs in the sitting area of our room to take off her boots. "She's not even mad at him so much as she's overwhelmed by it all. I think," she says a bit louder when she stands to shimmy off those skin tight jeans, "that putting physical distance between them is just helping to eliminate some of that suffocation she's feeling."
"Whatever it is, she has to go. I want a nice night with my wife, alone but for a bottle of wine, and a lazy Sunday spent doing nothing but reading, fucking, eating and fucking. So your friends got to hit the road. Preferably now so I can inspect that wax you just had done and ensure it's of the highest quality."
"You're so thoughtful," she jokes, hooking her thumbs in the band of her blue lace thongs so that she can slide them down past her hips. "Is this what you were hoping to see, Mr. Grey?"
Dropping to my knees so that I can lift the oversized sweater up I raise a brow and hold back my smile. "It's awfully red," I say.
"Of course it is."
"And it's got some sort of gel all over it that smells like my old piano teacher."
"Aloe," she laughs out, pulling her panties back up and tossing the boots in the closet. "You men only ever get to enjoy the after effects of the torture we women go through. You get to avoid all the pain and the ugliness that we undertake on your behalf!"
"I'll go with you next time," I offer, suddenly curious as to what goes down during one of these 'torturous' procedures.
"The hell you will. The chick who waxes me already knows far too much about our sex life as it is, she doesn't need to meet you in person so that you can add another fan girl to your harem."
"What do you mean she already knows...what is that sound?"
Ana's eyes go wide just as her hand covers her mouth to conceal the gasp about to escape it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Oh my god," she whispers, running to the door and opening it.
"Is that?" Just then I hear a female screech and then a very loud grunt followed by a thud and a stream of giggles that has me reaching for Ana and slamming our door shut. "That's disgusting."
"Oh stop it. It's sweet. They're making up."
"Yeah, in our guest room!"
"Just think about it this way," Ana says right before Kate lets out a scream that has me hightailing it for the bathroom at the other end of our bedroom. "Now we'll be alone tonight and tomorrow."
"Well thank fuck for that," is all I say before shutting the door and turning the shower, the sink and Ana's blow dryer on as loud as they'll go.
APOV
"I can't believe you did all of this," I say with awe as I stare out at Kate and Elliot's oversized dining room table which is laden with homemade ravioli's, fresh crusty bread and a platter of braciole that makes up a Sunday dinner. The cookies and cream puffs I made yesterday and this morning are sitting on the side table next to the desserts Mia has made and as much as I love sweets, it's Kate's table that has my mouth watering.
"Ana," she deadpans. "You know as well as I did that I didn't make all of this. After Elliot and I decided to shove this whole...thing down those bitches throats Talia came to me and suggested that we host Sunday dinner and I know tradition dictates that it's held at the Grey's but this was the best way to just...I don't know...take back what I wanted. My life with Elliot as a family." She turns and grips my hands in hers, bright blue eyes begging for me to understand. "You know?"
"Absolutely. I'm totally content and happy being here and you feeling better just makes it perfect." And that is the God's honest truth. When the two of them finally left our guest room it was well past dinner time but the hours they'd spent hashing out whatever it was that needed discussing was well worth it. It had been Elliot's suggestion to host dinner and as much as I've come to love going to Christian's parents every Sunday, I was more than happy come here if it meant peace and harmony. And paybacks. Because let's be real here, what those women did to my best friend had me seeing red and out for blood.
"Did you see TMZ?" Mia chirps, dropping one last dessert onto the side board before pulling out her phone to show us what we've already seen a hundred times by now.
"See it? We approved it!" Kate giggles, taking the small screen between the three of us so that we can all watch together. It's the video that's been picked up by every media outlet and from all reports and accounts, has effectively ended the fanfare that had initially broken out due to Elliot's one night stand's antics.
After a quick recap of the 'Pathetic and desperate attempt that shamed women and feminism from every corner of the globe,' the camera pans to a shot of Elliot and Kate's house, perfectly landscaped and camera ready. Over the door are two simple words that send out a clear message that nobody can miss.
The Grey's.
There is, of course, no tour of the grounds or of the house itself but there are a few pictures of the happy couple out and about over the past few months doing the mundane things that make up a shared life. Kate smelling a mango at a supermarket with Elliot standing a foot away, Elliot laughing at a Seahawks game with Kate taking a picture of him, the two of them shopping at a clothing store and the symbol of all coupledom heard the world over, Elliot pumping gas while Kate waits in his car. Boring. Everyday. Not the stuff you do with a random hookup.
Scrolling across these and other pictures is a short statement released by Christian's PR team that reads something along the lines of living with no regrets, of making mistakes along the way and about having respect for one's self. But what makes Kate break out into the dazzling smile I've come to love over the years is the way Elliot ended it.
"In Kate I've found the one person who I want to spend the rest of my years with. The path to each other may have been unconventional and unexpected but to us, none of that matters because it ultimately led us to each other. I can only hope that everyone finds their hearts perfect match and is as lucky as the two of us are. As far as the past goes, I have never and don't intend to go back there so I don't see any reason to revisit it."
The last thing anyone sees is the words, 'A June wedding is planned' which came as a surprise to all of us but Kate said that having a date made both of them feel better. I thought Christian was going to blow a gasket at the information given out so freely but then Carrick clapped him on the shoulder and told him to calm down and that the actual wedding was in May at their estate.
The many hours Christian, Welch and Barney have put in over the last few days has paid off in spades. Nowhere is there a direct link to the original blog's url address and the few sites that took screen shots have been well compensated to keep those shots off of the internet. Elliot and Mr. Kavanagh have come to some sort of concession and he and Ethan apparently went for drinks last night so that they could work their shit out like men. Whatever that means.
When my husband came home late last night, or early this morning depending on how you look at it, he fell into our bed, toeing off his shoes and dropping his tie and cufflinks onto the floor before rolling to his side, still in his button down and suit pants. So deep was his immediate slumber that I had no problems undressing him down to his boxers and socks. 36 straight hours in that tower office of his will do that I guess. Even this morning, after sleeping for close to ten hours and indulging in an unusually long shower he still looked tired and worn out.
The deal with the Chinese will be totally, completely and legally complete by the end of next week and those finishing details coupled with Elliot's drama and the constant struggle he's had with this new Detroit deal has left him grouchy and exhausted. So tomorrow, when everyone else is waking at the crack of dawn to start their work week, I will be ensuring that my husband, all 6' 2" of muscle, determination and alpha maleness is snuggled into a comfortable bed, fully satisfied in the way I know best and sleeping until well past lunch time.
"Looks good, Kate," Christian says with a glass of wine in his hand. She kisses his cheek and returns his greeting with a whispered 'thank you' that I know is more for what he's done and less about his compliment. "Of course, you're family now. Speaking of family though, your parents just arrived and from the look on my brother's face he'd appreciate it if you made an appearance."
When she turns to go he takes the opportunity to come to me. His embrace is one I know well but this time it's heavy with exhaustion, evidenced by the way he rests his head on the top of my head for a moment longer than normal.
"Hey," I say softly, bringing his face down to me so that I can kiss his temple before he lowers his lips to mine for a quick kiss. "Let's skip out of here right after dessert. I know your mom has all those games planned but I'm kind of tired and an early night sounds good." I sense his hesitation so pull out the next card in my arsenal deck. "And, I was hoping we could try out that thing you said you wanted to do once I was more comfortable with...you know..."
His eyes glint with humor, that one brow rising just enough to make his smirk less sarcastic and more playful. "Comfortable with what, baby?" He laughs at my obvious discomfort and palms my ass, drawing me closer to his hard chest and masculine scent.
"You know," I hiss, glancing left and right to ensure that nobody can hear this conversation.
"Do I?" he teases as the pad of his thumb runs along my lower lip, pulling it free of my teeth. "Dr. Pepper?" he muses, lowering his nose to my mouth so that he can sniff my chapstick. I giggle and draw back, holding one side of his face so that I can look at him.
"You're good at this game," I praise him.
"I like guessing your lip gloss even if you are wearing the cheapest shit in the universe. And I'm not going to lie, I like the idea that my cock smells like Dr. Pepper right now." I blush at his veiled reference to the quick, and I do mean quick blow job I gave him on the car ride over. It's not everyday that we get the entire car to ourselves and Kate is always talking about 'road head' so when he told me it's not something he'd ever experienced, well, I had to do it.
"Shh! My god, Christian, you are terrible at whispering! Talia just heard that!"
"Who the hell is Talia?"
"Elliot's housekeeper!"
His head drops back as he laughs, both hands of his tightening around my waist so that I'm forced to lean entirely on him. "I'm not trying to whisper, Ana. But you still need to tell me what it is you're hoping to try out later." Again he palms the cheek of my ass, his middle finger dangerously close to my crack which only confirms that he knows exactly what it is I'm trying not to say out loud. "What are you craving, Mrs. Grey? Anything you want you can have."
His breath is hot on my ear but it's that finger pressing between the cleft of my butt that finally gets me to say it.
"Oh fine," I huff, drawing up to my full height in these five inch heels. "You said you wanted to use the bullet thingy in my...daisy while you were fucking my ass."
"Shit," he groans, head falling back against the wall with his eyes closed. "I was not prepared to hear you say that."
"Yes you were! That's why you kept goading me!"
"Let me rephrase. I knew what you were going to say but hearing the words 'fucking my ass' out of your dainty mouth is too much for me to take."
"So we'll leave early?"
"I vote for leaving now," he says and I know if I pressed the issue, he really would call it a day and take us both home.
"First we need to eat the dinner that Kate prepared and then we can go back to our fuck den," I say into his ear, stretching out the k sound in fuck so that he's got no choice but to press his hard on against my hip for a few seconds of friction. I give us two hours tops before he's dragging me out the door.
The next morning I lie perfectly still and watch him sleep, a luxury I rarely am able to partake in. The shades have been drawn so that no light filters through, the temperature has been set to his ideal 68 degrees and I have done my part in screwing him to satisfaction.
We wound up staying for dessert and coffee but skirted out when Kate's grandparents showed up with two of her cousins, both of whom had their eyes set firmly on my husband. In the car we found the radio station that had started playing Christmas carols and held hands the entire way home, separating only when Christian parked in his spot at Escala.
And though my plan had been to seduce, entice and exhaust, in typical Christian Grey style he took control the minute our feet hit the great room. Somehow the apartment filled with sensual music and I found myself swept into his arms, his late day stubble abrading the sensitive skin along my cheek and neck as he whispered filthy words into my ear. When I gripped him over his pants and asked him to take me to bed he did but immediate satisfaction wasn't on the menu. Instead he took his sweet time and worked me up with anticipation until I'd forgotten what my agenda was. Reduced to a wanton woman, naked and all but begging her lover to finish her off I almost clapped when I felt the buzz of the vibrator as he ran it along the seam of my sex.
"Turn over and lift that ass up," he'd said huskily before pushing both the vibrator and himself into my body in a cacophony of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Shamelessly it took me no time at all to climax but in my defense, he had every stimulation known to man being used and I'm not ashamed to admit that I came a second time less than two minutes later. This time though, he came with me and after removing both himself and the bullet from inside me he let me clean him off with a warm washcloth and promptly fell asleep the minute I laid down next to him.
Nine hours later I've awoken to find him on his side, one arm flung over my stomach, one leg flung over my legs and his face resting on the crest of my breast. Our bodies are sticky where they're touching and I'm hot as hell from his weight on me but I will do whatever it takes to get him to just sleep for as long as possible.
At eleven, a full twelve hours of sleep later, he wakes long enough to move to his belly and give me a funny little grin that has my heart flipping over with love. I shower in the guest room and dress in the clothes I took out of the room with me in an effort to prolong his slumber but he comes out into the kitchen not even an hour later, hair a mess, eyes half closed and sleep lines on his chest.
"How long was I out?"
"Thirteen hours and you needed every second of it so don't lament that you've wasted the day. There was nothing on your calendar today after Andrea and I moved some things around and there is absolutely nowhere we need to be all day so if you're still tired, go back to bed. If you're up, I made coffee and Gail left a quiche for us that I just heated up."
"Coffee and quiche it is then." He stretches, the hemline of his white Henley shirt riding up high enough for me to see the outline to that V that gets me so hot. "I wanted to get a workout in today but Bastille's with his in-laws in San Fransisco." I think he said something about calling Ethan or Jose but it gets lost in the yawn he's fighting as he pours himself a cup of black coffee and sits next to me at the breakfast bar. "What are you doing?"
"Making my Christmas list," I answer, showing him the list I've started on my tablet.
"That's not your list, that's what you're buying other people. Where's your list?"
"Christian, as you have so nicely pointed out, I am now a bajillionaire. If someone buys me a present, I will be pissed." He takes a sip, closes his eyes and shakes his head.
"You can't tell me not to buy shit for you, Ana. It's our first married Christmas and our first Christmas together ever. I will buy you what I want so just stop the horse shit."
Yea, I knew I wasn't going to win that argument.
"OK then, what do you want?" I ask with a smirk knowing full well that just the question will piss him off.
"Nothing. And I'm not having this discussion with you. If you're looking for a gift for me," he rises and nips at my collarbone, "just let me have that ass again Christmas morning." Adjusting himself he nips again and grabs my hips. "Damn, last night was fucking amazing."
I laugh and stand to get him some breakfast, sitting with him while he eats. Just being with him like this, so casual, so easy, so mundane has me happy. He mutters his displeasure at a few texts he's gotten so I take his phone and see that Ethan, Jose and Elliot have all said no to working out due to a host of issues.
"I'll workout with you," I offer, smiling when his mouth, still full of egg, stops chewing so that he can stare at me.
"I don't think so," he counters, covering his laugh up with a cough.
"Why not?"
"Because there is no way in hell you could keep up with me."
"Not sparring no, but I could lift weights and run with you or whatever else it is that you do down there."
"Lift weights?"
"Yeah," I answer defensively. "I won't pretend to be able to bench like you can but I'm pretty strong. I bet you wouldn't last one hour in my class." He reads my anger well and back pedals, finishing his coffee before pulling me between his legs.
"Well I'm not going to spar with you and I'm not going to ask you to spot me while I lift but I'll make you a deal. You run the six miles with me in a little bit and I'll do an entire session of Pilates with you. I'll even let you order me around and bend me into those pretzel shapes you do."
Now that is an offer I can't refuse so into my sports bra I go, my hair wrapped up in a tight ponytail and my body in black sweats that Christian insists I wear so that we don't stick out during our run through Seattle. I don't miss the tense nod Sawyer gives Christian as he's instructed to keep no less than five feet of distance between me and any other person nor do I miss it when Reynolds calls the Seattle PD to inform them of our run.
"The police, Luke?" I say when Christian gets on the phone to say a quick hello to the Chief.
"Necessary protocol, Mrs. Grey. We're going to be running with three CPO's, all of whom are carring concealed weapons." He's unapologetic as he stretches his calves and then takes out his gun to check it as if to make a point.
"Do you wear that thing at Heather's? You know she's way anti-gun."
"I wear this thing all the time and yes, I'm very familiar with her stance on firearms but other than the gun safe I bought for her apartment so that she's not forced to look at this while I'm there, I'll make no other concessions." He stands and stretches his neck from side to side along with me in the foyer while we wait. "I'm a military man. Guns are an extension of my person. She knows that."
"She's also a pacifist."
"That she is but she doesn't hold my background against me. Peace would be ideal but that's not the world we live in anymore. We make it work," he says with a wink.
"You gonna marry her or what?" I ask off the cuff immediately regretting the question. "Sorry, none of my business. I'm sorry. Don't answer that and just forget I even asked it."
Surprisingly he laughs at me and hits the button for the elevator as Christian, Prescott and Reynolds approach.
"No worries, Mrs. Grey but that is not a discussion I'll have with anyone other than her father and her." He turns and lowers his voice, a sweet smile on his face. "And of course I've thought about it but right now, marriage isn't even something I'll consider."
At first I keep up with the brisk pace just fine. By mile two I'm still feeling so good that I start to get cocky, praising myself for all those nights on the treadmill in my old apartment and the hundreds of times I said no to Oreo's. But by mile three I realize that the speed at which three grown men and one ex-military woman run is quite different than how fast my much smaller legs can carry me. I'm winded, I'm sweating, I'm hot and when Christian turns to look at me and gives me a thumbs up, I'm more determined than ever to hide the fact that I'm about to die.
Instead I turn up my headphones and try to find a rhythm that matches the furiously fast steps I'm taking, settling on Ellie Goulding's 'Burn', an advance recording given to me since I like her music so much. By the time we round the corner and I see Escala looming in the background I'm about to give up but I push through that last quarter mile until I'm bent over in the elevator, hands on my knees and my breath coming in fast spurts. If I dwell on the stitch in my side, I will most certainly puke right now.
Christian stands in front of me, my head resting on his abs, and smooths his hands over my back until we reach the penthouse where he picks me up and carries me to the couch.
"I'm fine!" I protest but he knows better and gets me a glass of water before plopping down next to me.
"Ana. You just ran six miles in 42 minutes and as good of shape as you're in, that's still impressive."
"What do you normally run it in?"
He shrugs and takes a sip of my water, leaning back and stretching out his legs in front of him.
"Tell me."
"Usually Taylor and I do it in 33. My goal is 30 but I've only gotten below 32 twice." He stands, slaps the side of my thigh and pulls me up. "You ready for your Pilates lesson or do you need a break?"
I need a shower, a nap and a bottle of Advil but I'll be damned if I'm about to tell him that right now. Instead I lead him upstairs to my studio and put on the playlist I use for my advanced class. Or used to use, teaching is one thing I realize I'll never be able to do again and even though I miss it terribly, I understand how it would be a problem.
Christian gets on his mat dutifully and waits for me to start so I do, going right for a three minute hover that does absolutely nothing to rattle him. "Right into a Pilates pushup. Hands close, arms against your side, legs together. Let's do thirty of them and then hover for another two minutes."
Still nothing. No panting, no sweat, nothing. "This is called a swan dive. Good but keep your feet elevated and still. Now pull back as far as you can and hold before rocking back down, slowly!...control it...good. Again." Damn him and his perfect physique. Normally by now even my die-hards are grumbling.
"Flip onto your back and straighten your legs holding them a few inches off the ground, hands at your sides. 100 leg lifts, do not use your hands to push off, focus on your lower abdominals." By 80 I'm ready to throw in the towel but he powers on, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead the only indication that he's finally feeling anything. "From here we're going to do our extensions. Basically a crunch but your legs come up and never rest on the floor."
"How many?" he puffs out after two minutes and even though I want to stop the fact that he's finally showing some signs of strain, I do another ten before doing a full body stretch that has him moaning with appreciation. "This feels good," he says lazily. I'm pretty happy with the fact that his eyes are closed. Maybe I can coax a nap out of him after this.
"This is called a spine twist, from here we'll do our jack knives and then we'll move to the machine."
"Or we could move to the shower and then the shower wall and then the bed," he suggests with a grunt as he raises his legs into the air like a pro.
"Are you saying you don't want to do this anymore?"
"No, I said I'd do the complete class and that's what I'll do. But I'd like to do you more than these stupid whatever they're called so all I'm saying is we can continue this workout in a much more exciting and satisfying fashion should you be so inclined."
Sitting up I take stock of him. Sure he's a bit sweaty and yes he's a bit out of breath but the man could probably go for a few more hours if only to make me happy so I cut my loses and offer him my hand, pulling him up.
"I'll trade you a shower for a bath but only if you let me rub your back," I joke, squealing when he pinches my butt.
"You drive a hard bargain Ana Grey. Deal."
At four we're woken up by the ring of the house phone, a number only our immediate families and staff have access to. I look around bewildered but Christian just jumps out of bed, wide eyed and excited, pulling on a pair of jeans and tossing a pair of panties to me.
"Get dressed, we've got to go," he says cheerily on his way to the bathroom where he brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face. "Come on, you just got the ride of your life followed by a two hour nap. Hop up and throw on something comfortable."
"I got the ride of my life? Excuse me but I believe it was you who got a ride."
"We got a ride, baby. Now get dressed the jet leaves in an hour and everyone is waiting," he says with a wink.
"Everyone is waiting? Whose everyone? For what? And what are you talking about the jet? To where?"
"Vegas, baby. Vegas."
CPOV
"When did you tell her?" Casey asks me as we take off.
"About forty minutes ago."
"You should have told her to run a brush through her hair too," Devin says, filing his nails. "And you," he points to Jose, "you need to smile at some point over the next two days. She told you it was her last undercover operation, you've already started making plans to see her in Ireland in a few weeks and I know you've been ring shopping so turn that frown upside down and start acting like you're the hap-hap-happiest fucker in the world."
Jose rolls his eyes and deals another card to Elliot whose got his eye on Kate whose got her eye on Ethan who is reading through the legal gag paperwork their father threw at Elliot's whore early this morning. Ethan's word, not mine. This trip was originally planned as a surprise for Ana who has never been to Vegas but after the entire ordeal with Elliot and the fact that Jose has been moping around for weeks now, it's morphed into a pep rally of sorts. Which isn't really my speed but if Ana's happy, I'm happy and judging by the smile on her face and the excitement she expressed on the drive to SeaTac, I'm pretty damn pleased with myself.
"Where are we staying?" she asks, unbuckling her seat belt when Regina announces that we can move around freely.
"The Wynn."
"Which suites?" Elliot asks, throwing down two cards so that Casey can deal him two more. "Mother fucker!" he exclaims after seeing the replacements.
"Private ones not listed on the site," I answer before Devin can pull the website up on his iPad.
"Of course they're private," he guffaws, peeking over Jose's shoulder to see his hand.
"We still meeting with Steve Wynn for breakfast?"
"The owner?" Ana asks, her eyes skitting between Elliot and myself.
"Yes," I nod to her, "And yes," I answer my brother. Before she can ask I continue. "Wynn approached me a year or so ago with an interest in developing a property in Seattle and since he's interested in going green, I'm bringing Elliot on board."
"So you're going to own a hotel?" she asks skeptically. Just then it occurs to me that though she's now considered part owner of GEH, she has no idea just what it is we do or how we operate. Answering her I shoot off an email to Ros and Andrea to set something up so that Ana can get a rundown of the company she now owns.
"Not in the way you're envisioning, no. GEH would act as an investor and silent partner and would send a representative to sit on the board of directors but my day to day involvement would be next to nothing once the project was off the ground." She shrugs and walks towards the girls with a quiet, 'OK'. If that overwhelms her, it's probably best that I don't tell her that we're already part owner of about 60 hotels world wide.
"Now that is what I'm talking about," Devin says happily as we disembark only to be greeted by staff from the Wynn who hand us champagne and usher us into a stretch limo. At the hotel we're again greeted by staff, bypassing the check in desk and the casino floor as we're led to the private and exclusive tower separate from the rest of the hotel and known only to those lucky enough to get an invite. Or rich enough. "Damn girl," he whistles as he takes a look around his and Casey's suite. "I am so glad I hitched my wagon onto your little star all those years ago."
Ana laughs and plucks a pear from the fruit basket on their foyer table but Casey turns and rolls his eyes. "It was between you and Michelle Pattinson."
"What was?" she asks doe eyed and spectacularly beautiful.
"Who I was going to call my hag," Devin answers from the bedroom. "She had hammertoes though so you won by default."
"You were going to choose between us?" Ana pouts.
"Mmmhmm. So we can both thank God for hammertoes. Now if you'll excuse us, I've never gotten my groove on in Sin City and dinner's in less than an hour so skidaddle."
"Sounds good to me," I growl into her ear as I pull her out the door and down a long corridor to where another elevator waits to bring us to where we're staying. Inside Ana ooh's and ahh's at the sumptuous gold and cream décor while I get down to the very serious business of christening our room and adding Vegas to a long list of places we've fucked in.
"Christian!" she squeals, her dress riding over the flare of her hips when I toss her onto the bed and unbuckle my belt.
"Arms up," I demand, my cock hard as stone when she complies. Before she can protest I've got her wrists wrapped, buckled and tied to the headboard and her pretty little blue dress pushed up so that those perfect, full, lush breasts are staring at me. "God you've got the best tits in the world." Pinning down her legs with my own I latch on, sucking and pulling as she moans and writhes in an effort for more.
"Please," she begs breathlessly, my fingers gliding over the wet lace that covers her pussy and the place I love most in the world.
"What do you want, Ana? This?" I ask, pressing harder against the firm rise of her clit.
"No," she pants, her legs opening wider.
"This?" I ask, freeing my cock with one hand while I push aside her panties and slide one finger in deep. Fuck she turns me on so much.
"No!"
"Relax," I chide her, chuckling at the desperation flashing in her eyes along with anger and frustration. "Is this what you want?" I ask, my tongue circling her nipple in a mock display of what I could do between her legs. "Do you want me to suck on that pretty little clit of yours?"
"For fucks sake, Christian, no! Fuck me! I want you to fuck me!"
"Well," I continue, pushing down my jeans and lining myself up with her opening. "When you ask like that what's a husband to do but satisfy his wife?"
"Exactly! Now satisfy me damn it!"
The laugh I feel in my throat is over taken by the groan that takes its place when I slide in deep. "Paradise. Fucking paradise, Ana." I lean down to kiss her but she's not interested. My baby wants hard and fast and I am more than happy to oblige. "You want to get fucked, baby?"
"Yes!" she says but I don't need to hear it. The way she's moving her hips beneath me says it all. Without a word I shove two pillows beneath her ass. Still inside of her slick heat I take off my t-shirt and use it as a makeshift blindfold, licking her ear when I'm finished and then with as much force as I can, I drive into her in short demonstrative bursts.
"Do you feel what you do to me, Ana? You make me feel like an animal. You make me want to fuck you until I die from the effort." Slamming into her again she cries out, a muffled 'yes' that escapes even though she's got her bottom lip between her teeth. On my haunches I watch with amazement as my dick moves in and out of her pussy, glistening and pulsing as it drives through feminine softness that I know I'll never get enough of.
"More," she begs, her stomach muscles contracting as she fucks me back. I lick my fingers and reach down, pinching those sweet as candy nipples as her tits bounce. "Yes! Oh God yes!" Her face tightens, her legs draw up higher and she fall silent which is about all I can take. From this position I can actually see my dick move inside her, the small rise above her mound as I thrust causing every sense in my body to explode.
"You gotta come, Ana. I can't...I'm going to...I...fuck!" Faster I pound, harder I pinch and then a rush of wetness coats my cock, her orgasm literally sucking mine out of me as she milks me. "Fuck!" is the most I can manage, my body falling forward onto hers. It takes a minute, maybe two but finally I'm able to reach up and untie her hands. Immediately she tangles her fingers in my hair and then sighs, my name on her lips causing my dick to twitch one last time as it slips out.
"Christian?"
"Hmm?" I should lift my head from it's resting place of her shoulder but I can't. I'm far too comfortable.
"Did you ever take any of your subs to Vegas?"
And comfort is gone. Shit.
"I never took my subs anywhere, Ana." It's an omission to be sure but I really don't want to have this conversation.
"But did you ever come here with Elena? Or, you know? Find someone here?"
Sitting her up in my lap I feel my semen leak out of her and onto my leg, the feeling satisfying. I love knowing that I've marked her even after we've left our bed.
"There are clubs here and yes, I've been to them both with Elena and without." I feel the way her shoulders fall and again I wish things had been different. "It was years ago, Ana and if it makes you feel any better, I only went once by myself and it was only to train."
"But you've had sex here?" She shifts, more of our climaxes spreading over my thighs. "It's stupid I know but Devin said they'd never done it here and I know Ethan and Mia were saying the same thing so I was hoping we'd have something...someplace new too."
"Ana," I laugh. "Every experience with you is new to me. Yes, I've had sex in this city but I've never made love here. That's all ours."
"That was not making love," she jokes, pointing at my chest and kissing my chin, her tell that she's not upset.
"Baby, it doesn't matter what we're doing, how we're doing it or how nasty it gets. It's all love between us and that, Mrs. Grey, is something I will only ever have with you."