Monday, May 23, 2011

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Shocked of WSU

Date: May 23 2011 20:33

To: Christian Grey

Okay, I've seen enough.

It was nice knowing you.

Ana

Dusk has come and gone by the time I receive Anastasia's email. I'm finished with work for the day, and I've been waiting for her reply for over an hour. As I read it over, shock whips through my veins like ice water. And then fear, which is quickly overrun with a confusing array of anger and lust.

Nice knowing me? I'll show her nice…

It's not the immediate thought that she doesn't want me any longer; rather it's the need to make her mine that fills my body. The need is so great that I'm snatching up my car keys and tie without a second thought.

I need to fuck her, and I need to fuck her now.

And I don't know if it's because I'm angry or fearful, or what—all I know is that I need to bury myself inside her, to show her how nice it can be, knowing me.

The drive to her apartment takes longer than usual and I spend the entire ride on the edge of my seat. By the time I pull up in front of her place, my hands are sore from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Their lights are still on, and I imagine they're up. It's still early. I head up the walk, sweeping my hand through my hair, spinning my keys around my right forefinger.

Nice knowing me… Nice. Knowing. Me?

I ring the bell and step back, waiting for an answer. I'm surprised when Katherine answers the door, plugged into her iPod. Behind her in the living room, I can see she's packing, for the move, I assume.

"Christian," she says, shocked, as she pulls the ear buds from her ears. "What are you doing here? Ana didn't say you were stopping by…"

"Good evening Kate," I greet her, keeping my tone even, forcing composure. "Is Anastasia at home?"

Her brows knit in confusion. "She should be in her bedroom packing." She steps back to allow me entrance.

"Thank you." I stride quickly through the living room and step through her open doorway.

She's sitting at her miniscule desk, ear buds in, reading over the contract, the end of a pencil between her teeth. Mmmm… I twitch in my pants at the sight. I take a cursory glance around the room.

So this is Anastasia Steele's bedroom… It's furnished simply with white wicker furniture, and a white iron bed. It's all soft blues and creams, very soothing, though I don't feel that way at the moment. I know there's only one way I'll feel soothed. And that's buried to the hilt inside the delectable Anastasia Steele. Unconsciously, I shift my weight from foot to foot, imagining it, and this causes her to glance up and over at me. Her eyes widen, taking me in, her eyes grazing up and down my body, and she reaches up to remove the ear buds. She doesn't say a word—only stares at me, wordless. She looks a little numb.

"Good evening, Anastasia," I murmur. I only notice now that she's been exercising. She's in sweatpants and a t-shirt, her hair tamed by two pigtails—oh, the memories those resurrect…

When she doesn't answer, I continue on. "I felt that your email warranted a reply in person." For the first time, I feel nervous about my showing up. Was this wrong of me? I've never done this before—shown up at a submissive's house. I never fuck in the middle of the week, only on weekends.

She tries to speak now, her lips parting twice before she closes them again, silent.

"May I sit?"

She's absolutely speechless, and I can't help but be amused by the fact. She's absolutely frozen in her tracks by my appearance. She nods, her eyes never leaving me as I cross to her bed and lower myself gingerly onto the edge of the mattress.

"I wondered what your bedroom would look like," I tell her, taking another glance around. "It's very serene and peaceful in here."

"How…" She speaks!

I smile. How did I get here so fast? "I'm still at the Heathman," I explain.

"W-would you like a drink?" she offers now.

I grin indulgently. A drink. She's offering me a drink? Does that mean she needs one? "No thank you, Anastasia." Right now, I'd like a drink of you, however. I cut to the chase. "So," I say, "It was nice knowing me?"

Her gaze falls to her hands, which sit knotted in her lap. "I thought you'd reply by email," she finally says, her tone small, and meek, and… apologetic? No, not quite. Embarrassed, yes. She bites down on her lip.

The sight stirs lust, dark and thick, deep, deep inside, and I feel my cock stir, jolting awake with a start, standing to attention. "Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?" I ask her, and my voice sounds husky.

She gasps, blinking spastically at me, and frees her lip. "I wasn't aware I was biting my lip," she nearly whispers.

I need to touch her now, so I lean forward and undo one of her pigtails, the strands of hair coming apart in my fingers. I can hear her breathing shallowly, and her face is deliciously pink. Even from where I sit, I can feel the warmth radiating in waves off of her. I move to the next pigtail, undoing that one too.

Sitting this close to her, I can smell her—the sexy, sultry scent of Anastasia Steele, but the usual freesia and sandalwood has a tangy edge, sharpened by the smell of her sweat. The thought turns me on, imagining the dampness beneath her breasts, between her thighs, under her arms. The sheen across her skin…

"So you decided on some exercise," I whisper, and I barely recognize my voice it's so full of want. I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and I brush my fingers around it, tugging on her earlobe gently. "Why, Anastasia?"

"I needed time to think," she rushes to explain, her voice still soft and low, quiet.

"Think about what, Anastasia?" I can see I'm affecting her, and the idea makes my insides hum.

"You," she whispers.

Inside, I'm screaming, torn apart by anxiety and fear. The bigger part of me just needs to fuck her—that's the main priority here. Maybe that'll give her something to think about…

"And you decided that it was nice knowing me?" I ask her, "Do you mean knowing me in the biblical sense?"

She flushes deeper, and the sight makes me smile. "I didn't think you were familiar with the Bible," she says, and though I'm sure she means to sound tart, instead she just sounds breathless and shameful.

"I went to Sunday school, Anastasia. It taught me a great deal," I tell her. How's that for information?

"I don't remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible," she snaps now, and I can hear it now, the sass. Oh, this smart mouth of hers… "Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation."

I feel the corners of my lips twitch up. So clever, so funny. "Well, I thought I should come and remind you how nice it was knowing me." I'd like to fuck you now, Miss Steele… She doesn't say anything, just stares at me open mouthed, and I brush my fingers from the edge of her ear, sweeping down her jaw, to her chin. "What do you say to that, Miss Steele?"

Say yes.

Out of nowhere, lust sparks in her eyes and she dives at me. I react quickly, gripping her shoulders and twisting, pressing her into the mattress underneath me, and I pull her arms up over her head, locking her wrists in my hands, making her my prisoner.

I sweep my face down to hers, forcing my tongue between her lips, into her mouth, claiming her. Oh, my sweet, sweet Anastasia. She tastes so good. Oh, I want her, and I press the length of my body against hers.

After an indulgent moment, I pull back from our kiss, and stare down at her. Her eyelids flutter open, and the blue in her irises burns straight through me.

"Trust me?" I whisper. She nods, her gaze wide, expectant. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. I pull the tie from my pocket, and rise up, swinging a leg over her hips. I sit astride her, effectively pinning her hips down, and bring her wrists together. I loop my tie around them and knot the other end to the grid of her headboard, tugging firmly to ensure its security. Slowly, I slide off of her and stand back to admire my work. Mmmm, I want her. And she wants me. The realization warms the ice water in my veins, and it simmers, heating quickly. Desire courses my blood, now hot, through my body, down below my waistline, and I feel myself hardening.

"That's better," I mumble, and grin. Now to get her naked. I lean down and undo her right sneaker.

"No," she argues, kicking.

I stop. "If you struggle, I'll tie your feet, too." Mmmm, there's an idea. For an instant, I imagine her shackled to a spreader bar. "If you make noise, Anastasia, I will gag you. Keep quiet. Katherine is probably outside listening right now." I know full well that she's not. She can't hear us past her earphones. They're Bose, and so they're good quality, noise cancelling.

This seems to subdue her. She quits her protest and lets me remove her shoes and socks. Such sexy feet Anastasia has. They're small and ladylike. I reach up and tug the waistband of her sweatpants down over her hips. I drop them on the floor, and then lift her hips from the mattress and remove her bedclothes from underneath her, so they're out of the way. This could get messy. I lay her back down.

"Now then," I murmur, watching her teeth clench down on her lip. I run my tongue over my own bottom lip. "You're biting that lip, Anastasia. You know the effect it has on me." I put my finger over her mouth.

I step back, resisting the urge to pull her lip into my mouth and bite it, hard. I take off my socks and shoes, undo the button on my pants, and pull my shirt off, teasing her.

"I think you've seen too much." I chuckle, going back over to her, swinging to sit astride her again and pull her t-shirt up, exposing some more of that glorious, perfect skin. I roll it up so that it covers just her eyes, but I can still see her nose and her mouth.

Oh my fuck. She looks so sexy like this, tied to her bed, blindfolded. The realization hits, as it does every time, that she must now rely completely on me. She can trust me. She needs to trust me.

"Mmmm. This just gets better and better," I breathe, appreciating the view for a moment longer. "I'm going to get a drink." I kiss her chastely and climb off the bed, striding from her room.

Kate is still in the living room, packing boxes. It's obvious she hasn't heard a word of our exchange in the bedroom. She glances up momentarily when I walk into the room, her eyes widening slightly at my state of undress, but quickly she turns back to the task at hand. She's packing CD's into a crate.

"Is there something you need, Christian?" she inquires, absentmindedly.

"Do you happen to have any wine, Miss Kavanagh? Anastasia and I were going to share a drink together."

Kate's eyes flick toward Anastasia's bedroom, where, unbeknownst to her, her best friend is tied up and blindfolded on her bed, nearly naked. She looks about to say something, but then seems to change her mind rather quickly. "I've just put a bottle in the fridge," she says, nodding toward the kitchen, "It's not quite chilled. There's ice in the freezer."

I nod in acknowledgement and step into the kitchen to fix my drink. When I return, Anastasia is just where I've left her. Her hands flex slightly against the strain of my tie.

Shit, she's gorgeous.

I set the glass of wine on her bedside table, as well as the condoms I have brought, and remove my pants and boxers as one. I stride over to the bed, and kneel over her once again.

"Are you thirsty, Anastasia?" I inquire, unable to hide my amused smirk. Oh, this is hot. Hotter than it's ever been. Anastasia Steele, tied up and blindfolded beneath me, completely at my mercy… Finally submissive, that smart mouth finally subdued. I think of other ways I could subdue that mouth…

"Yes," she breathes now, nearly moans, her chin tilting up slightly, exposing some of that amazing skin along the column of her throat.

I take some of the wine into my mouth. It tastes cool and crisp, the ice working fast. I lean over to kiss her, and as she opens her mouth to accept me, I pour the wine into her mouth. She swallows quickly, eagerly.

"More?" She nods, and I administer another mouthful. "Let's not go too far," I say now, setting the glass aside. I really want to fuck her. I'm hardly able to hold myself back. Not for the second time, I'm finding myself appalled at what this woman does to me. "We know your capacity for alcohol is limited, Anastasia," I tease her.

She grins, and, oh, what the hell—I give her another mouthful. A dribble overflows and slips down her jaw, down her throat, puddling on the sheets beneath her. I shift to lie down beside her, pressing myself languidly against her hip. Feel me, baby.

"Is this nice?" I demand. I feel her muscles clench and tense up. I reach up for another sip of wine, and lean down to kiss her again, depositing a small sliver of ice in her mouth this time. I move my lips to her jaw, her throat, heading south casually, leisurely, taking my sweet time. I kiss the skin between her breasts, down her torso, to that gorgeous plane of flat belly. I ease a bit of ice into her belly button, and her skin is so hot that it melts almost immediately.

"Now you have to keep still," I warn, "If you move, Anastasia, you'll get wine all over the bed." I grin. So our training begins. This is going to be fun…

Her hips arch, just slightly, and I grin, watching the wine and melted ice nearly overflow. "Oh no," I tut, "If you spill the wine, I will punish you, Miss Steele." And I don't care who hears…

She groans quietly, and pulls at the prison my tie makes around her wrists. No way out, baby… I lift a hand, pulling down each of her bra cups in turn—leave it to Anastasia to make a sports bra look unbelievably sexy. I capture each of those pink, luscious nipples between my lips, tugging, sucking gently. I feel her entire body tense as she fights its automatic response.

"How nice is this?" I whisper, blowing softly on her nipple, watching it harden and elongate beneath my cool breath. I take another sip of drink, swallowing the wine, but keeping the shard of ice in my mouth. I bend and take her right nipple between my lips, pressing the ice against her. I twist the other between my fingers.

She moans, and I can hear the desperation in it. Yes, baby, want me.

"If you spill the wine, I won't let you come," I threaten her.

"Oh…" she breaths, "please… Christian… Sir… Please."

Oh my fuck. She's called me Sir and begged me at the same time. I am rock, rock hard, straining for release. Oh, I need to fuck her. I trail my fingers over her belly—so smooth…—and her hips lift, the wine in her navel spills over. I rush to lap it up, kissing and biting her softly as I go.

"Oh dear, Anastasia, you moved. What am I going to do with you?"

Her breathing is chaotic and too loud, and I slip my fingers into her panties, finding purchase against her sex. It's warm and damp, and I gasp. She is always so ready for me. Fucking hell, it's hot.

"Oh, baby," I groan, and ease two fingers inside of her. Oh, she's tight and wet, and hot. She gasps at my sudden intrusion. "Ready for me so soon." I pull my fingers out, and push them in again, slowly, teasing her, and she grinds her hips into my hand. "You are a greedy girl," I reprimand. I circle her clitoris with my thumb, slick with her arousal, once, twice, and press down firmly.

She groans, loudly, and her body bucks in response. The sudden need to see those eyes grips me, and I stretch up, pushing her t-shirt over her head. She blinks in the diffused light her lamp casts.

"I want to touch you," she whispers to me.

"I know." I kiss her, continuing to tease her, moving my fingers in and out, in and out, and my thumb round and round. With my other hand I grip her hair, holding her in place, and with my tongue mimic the action of my fingers, in her mouth.

She tenses against me, I feel her legs begin to strain, her breathing growing ragged, and I gentle my actions, bringing her back from the edge. Oh, no, Miss Steele. Not this time. I'm angry with her. She needs to know that I'm the one in charge, I'm in the one in control, and I call the shots here.

"This is your punishment, so close and yet so far," I hiss softly in her ear, easing her back once more, "Is this nice?"

She whimpers softly, tugging on the tie again. "Please," she implores.

"How shall I fuck you, Anastasia?" I ask her.

"Oh…" she breathes, and begins to quake again. I stop my hand. "Please."

"What do you want, Anastasia?" I ask her.

"You," she cries, and the word is a sweet, sweet melody, "Now!"

Oh, Miss Steele… Me you shall get. "Shall I fuck you this way, or this way, or this way?" I picture each possibility in my mind, and in each envisaged position, she appears equally as breathtaking. "There's an endless choice." I pull my fingers out of her and reach over to her bedside table for a condom, tearing the packet open. I kneel above her, peeling her panties off, and roll the condom on.

She watches my every action, her eyes wide, lips parted in frenzied, mesmerized lust. Oh, she wants me.

"How nice is this?" I hiss, pumping myself softly with my hand.

"I meant it as a joke," she sobs.

I feel my eyebrows lift. "A joke?" A joke? There is nothing funny about that. Where on fucking Earth would she find the humor in something like that?

"Yes," she says, "Please, Christian."

"Are you laughing now?" I demand of her.

"No!"

I gaze down at her for a moment. Oh, she needs me—and I, her. I grip her hips in my hands, and flip her over. Oh, that sweet, sweet ass. I push her knees up under her hips, slap her hard on the behind—the sharp sound is music to my ears—and I slam into her.

She falls apart around me instantly, multiple orgasms ripping through her as she cries out incoherently, but I don't pause.

I don't scold her for coming—in fact, maybe I've wanted her to come the entire time, and suddenly, it's imperative that it happens again. I thrust into her again and again and again. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Come on, Anastasia," I grind out through my teeth, "Again." I'm so close…

Beneath me, Anastasia falls apart again, and I still, deep inside of her, finding my own release. My weight gives out underneath me, and I sprawl across her back, spent.

"How nice was that?" I command once I've caught my breath.

She doesn't respond, exhausted and sprawled beneath me. She's still breathing hard. I ease myself out of her, pulling off the condom and knotting the end. I rise, depositing the used condom in the wastebasket by her desk and begin to dress. Once my shirt is buttoned, I go back to her and undo her restraint. I pull her t-shirt off. She rubs her wrists and fixes her bra. I cover her with the duvet and quilt, smirking down at her. She's staring at me, completely baffled, some unreadable expression in her eyes. What is she thinking? What is she staring at?

"That was really nice," she whispers, and she grins softly. Is she teasing me?

"There's that word again."

"You don't like that word?" she asks. Her eyelids look heavy. She'll be asleep soon. I, however, know I won't sleep much tonight. I'm too keyed up now.

"No," I answer, "It doesn't do it for me at all."

"Oh—I don't know… it seems to have a very beneficial effect on you," she argues.

"I'm a beneficial effect, now am I?" I ask her, slightly offended. Is that all? "Could you wound my ego any further, Miss Steele?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your ego," she says, though I'm not convinced she's being entirely truthful. It doesn't sound that way.

"You think?"

"Why don't you like to be touched?" she asks suddenly.

Oh, for fuck's sake. We are not going there. That's none of her fucking business. "I just don't." I lean over and kiss her on the forehead. Quickly, I change subject. "So, that email was your idea of a joke."

She smiles, and it seems a bit regretful. Beneath the covers, she shrugs her shoulders.

"I see. So you are still considering my proposition?" I ask, and internally I'm crossing my fingers, like a little girl. Suppose this is the night I get my 'yes'? Suppose this is the night you get your 'no', my subconscious counters.

"Your indecent proposal… yes, I am," she says, but adds, "I have issues though."

I grin at her, relief washing through me. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't," I tell her honestly. This is a two-way street.

"I was going to email them to you, but you kind of interrupted me."

"Coitus interruptus," I quip.

"See, I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere," she teases, and blesses me with a gorgeous, shy smile.

"Only certain things are funny, Anastasia. I thought you were saying no, no discussion at all," I scold her, and as I say the words, dread fills me up like a flood, and I'm drowning in it.

"I don't know yet. I haven't made up my mind… Will you collar me?"

"You have been doing your research. I don't know, Anastasia. I've never collared anyone."

"Were you collared?" she breathes.

"Yes," I answer truthfully.

"By Mrs. Robinson."

"Mrs. Robinson!" I laugh, loudly. Miss Steele and her names for these things. What a laugh Elena would have if I told her what Anastasia Steele has dubbed her. I find her grinning back at me. "I'll tell her you said that; she'll love it."

"You still talk to her regularly?" she sounds surprised, and a little disappointed.

"Yes," I tell her warily. She doesn't sound quite… Okay with this.

"I see. So you have someone you can discuss your alternative lifestyle with, but I'm not allowed."

I frown. "I don't think I've ever thought about it like that. Mrs. Robinson was part of that lifestyle. I told you, she's a good friend now. If you'd like, I can introduce you to one of my former subs. You could talk to her." Leila might be a good fit… Or Susannah.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" She sounds horrified.

"No, Anastasia." What is she all riled up about?

"No," she snaps, "I'll do this on my own, thank you very much." She pulls the bedcovers up to her chin.

I stare at her for a very long moment, at a loss for words. Is she… Angry? With me? I've hurt her feelings? "Anastasia, I…" I begin, and then stop, floundering for words. This is so strange. I've never not known what to say before. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended. I'm appalled," she tells me.

"Appalled?"

"I don't want to talk to one of your ex-girlfriends… slave… sub… whatever you call them."

And suddenly, it clicks together. She's practically turning jade. "Anastasia Steele—are you jealous?" Now it's my turn to be taken aback.

She turns beet red, the color filling the sliver of skin at her throat I can see, and her entire face, all the way up to her forehead. "Are you staying?"

Staying? No, no. I can't stay. "I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow at the Heathman." Phil, from the WSU farming division based in Vancouver, is coming to meet with me. "Besides, I told you, I don't sleep with girlfriends, slaves, subs, or anyone. Friday and Saturday were exceptions. It won't happen again." I'm reprimanding myself just as I am her. This can't happen again. I won't allow it.

Her lips come together, into a pouty purse. "Well, I'm tired now."

All at once I feel amused and confounded, all at the same time. "Are you kicking me out?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Well, that's another first." I gaze at her for a moment. I don't want to leave, and I stall for just a little more time. "So nothing you want to discuss now? About the contract?" I know for a fact she has issues she wants to talk about. She's just told me this.

"No." She is so defiant.

"God, I'd like to give you a good hiding," I tell her, "You'd feel a lot better, and so would I."

"You can't say things like that," she stammers, a little flummoxed, "I haven't signed anything yet."

"A man can dream, Anastasia." I grip her chin in my fingers and plant a kiss on her lips. "Wednesday?"

"Wednesday," she confirms, "I'll see you out. If you give me a minute."

That's preposterous. There's no need. But she's already sitting up, pulling on her t-shirt. She shoves me out of the way, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress. I stand, a little entertained at her persistence. My God, she's stubborn.

"Please pass me my sweatpants."

I do. "Yes ma'am," I tease her, trying, and failing, to suppress my grin.

She narrows her eyes at me. Her hair is a haystack; her cheeks still flushed from her multiple orgasms. She snatches a hair tie off the edge of her desk and stalks over to the door, pulling it wide open.

I follow Anastasia out, into the living room. Miss Kavanagh is nowhere in sight, though I can hear her talking on the phone in what I assume is her bedroom. As Anastasia pulls open the front door, I watch her mood shift. She's no longer rigged-backed and purse-lipped. She's no longer annoyed—in fact, she looks shy and embarrassed, and… sad.

I stop in the doorway and tenderly grip her chin, tilting her head back so I can see her face. "You okay?"

"Yes."

Okay then. I'm not quite sure I believe her, but I'll take her word for it, for now. I'm not in any shape to hang around and push the issue. There are too many emotions rioting through me. Too many tug-and-pull feelings. Should I stay or should I go? Of course I need to go. This is the way things are going to be from now on.

"Wednesday," I say now, and I kiss her softly. I mean for it to be short and sweet, but as my lips touch hers, the aloofness gives way to urgency, and I press my mouth against hers more firmly, needing to taste her, needing to feel her closeness. I want to stay. I want to stay so badly. Finally, I force myself to pull away, and I press my forehead to hers, not daring to open my eyes. I scramble to tame the sensations inside. There's so many of them, and all of them are so intense, so strong. I can't begin to tell one from the other. They have my heart pounding.

"Anastasia, what are you doing to me?"

"I could say the same to you," she murmurs.

I kiss her forehead, and I leave.

~~…~~

When I get back to the hotel, I type up a quick email to Anastasia, and then I head down to the pool, to sit in the steam room for a while.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: This Evening

Date: May 23 2011 23:16

To: Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele,

I look forward to receiving your notes on the contract.

Until then, sleep well, baby.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.