Sunday, May 29 2011
I wake after a very restless night to a drab, gray morning. It looks like rain, but I set out for a run anyway. My insides are burning with anticipation.
Today is the day and I am unbelievably excited. I barely notice the time slip by and by the time I return to the apartment, I realize that I've been gone for nearly two hours. Quickly, I shower and dress.
Mrs. Jones has left some sort of breakfast casserole in the fridge, and as I warm some on a plate in the microwave, I type a quick email to Anastasia, remembering she's very stubbornly insisted on driving herself today.
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: My Life in Numbers
Date: May 29 2011 08:04
To: Anastasia Steele
If you drive you'll need this access code for the underground garage at Escala: 146963.
Park in bay five—it's one of mine.
Code for the elevator: 1880.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
As I sit down at the breakfast bar with my coffee and breakfast my Blackberry pings with her reply.
…
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: An Excellent Vintage
Date: May 29 2011 08:08
To: Christian Grey
Yes, Sir. Understood.
Thank you for the champagne and the blow-up Charlie Tango, which is now tied to my bed.
Ana
…
Ah, so she received my housewarming present. I find myself distracted momentarily, by the thought of things tied to her bed…
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Envy
Date: May 29 2011 08:11
To: Anastasia Steele
You're welcome.
Don't be late.
Lucky Charlie Tango.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
.
Most of my morning passes in painful expectation. I am aching to have Anastasia here with me. Under me. Wrapped around me. I distract myself by getting some work done, and it seems to help. Time and time again, my thoughts wander to the playroom upstairs, and what waits there…
By the time Ana arrives I'm sitting in the living room reading the Sunday papers. Inside I'm wild with anxiety, but I won't dare let her see that. I'm surprised by the intensity of my apprehension. I've never felt this way with any of my other submissives. Why is Anastasia so different?
I hear the elevator ping, announcing her arrival.
"Good afternoon, Miss Steele," I hear Taylor greet her.
"Oh, please, call me Ana," she cajoles playfully, and my eyes narrow just slightly. Why is she being so friendly with him?
"Ana. Mr. Grey is expecting you."
I look up when they enter the living area. Anastasia looks amazing. She's dressed in that amazing burgundy dress, and high heels. Her lashes are long and luscious. Fuck, she's so beautiful.
I stand and move toward her, watching the way she stares at me. Her eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted. It's clear she's as affected by me as I am by her, and the thought makes me smirk.
"Hmm… that dress," I murmur, aware that I'm thinking aloud. I drink in the sight of her. My, she is a fine sight. "Welcome back, Miss Steele." I grip her chin in my fingers, and bend to plant a soft kiss on her lips. Hmm… they are so soft and pouty and full beneath my own… As I pull back, I hear her breath spike.
"Hi," she whispers, that beautiful pink color flooding her cheeks.
"You're on time," I tell her, "I like punctual. Come." I grip her hand in mine, and pull her toward the couch, where I've left the papers, eager to show her my discovery. "I wanted to show you something."
We sit, and I hand the paper to her, open to the photograph of us from her graduation. The first time I've ever been photographed with a woman. She reads the caption.
Christian Grey and friend at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver.
She laughs. "So I'm your 'friend' now," she observes.
Friend… I think of the fact that I've been introduced to her father as Anastasia's boyfriend. Yes, I suppose friends would suffice. I enjoy spending time with her, so I suppose we could be friends.
"So it would appear. And it's in the newspaper, so it must be true," I quip, smirking. I can't help it, I need to touch her. I reach over from where I'm sitting beside her and tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. It curls subtly at the end. "So, Anastasia," I say, aware my voice is low and full of need, "You have a much better idea of what I'm about since you were last here."
"Yes," she agrees.
"And yet you've returned." The thought elates me.
She nods. I want her, now. Forget the fact we haven't eaten, the need to fuck her is very apparent, and I can feel the emotion smoldering in my eyes. Knowing that she's aware of everything about me, what scum I am, what a fucking messed up sonofabitch I am, and she's still here… It turns me on.
"Have you eaten?" Please say yes, please say yes.
"No," she admits, and irritation sparks in my belly.
"Are you hungry?" I ask, desperate to hide the annoyance on my face. I'll need to feed her first, then.
"Not for food," she breathes.
Shit. I lean toward her, my lips at her ear. "You are as eager as ever, Miss Steele, and just to let you in on a little secret, so am I. But Dr. Greene is due here shortly." As I say the words, I'm reminding myself as well. "I wish you'd eat," I scold her, but I force myself to keep it light. I'm in too good a mood right now.
"What can you tell me about Dr. Greene?" she asks, and the question is kind of random.
"She's the best ob-gyn in Seattle. What more can I say?" Honestly, there's not much more I know about her. I've hired her simply for the sake of Anastasia's benefit.
"I thought I was seeing your doctor, and don't tell me you're really a woman, because I won't believe you."
Har de har har.
"I think it's more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don't you?" She nods.
Speaking of the specialized female doctors of Seattle… Oh, yes. My mother. I frown now, recalling the phone call she made to me earlier this morning. "Anastasia, my mother would like you to come for dinner this evening. I believe Elliot is asking Kate, too. I don't know how you feel about that. It will be odd for me to introduce you to my family."
"Are you ashamed of me?" she asks, and she sounds hurt.
Me? Ashamed of her? I would have thought it would have been the other way around.
"Of course not." That question is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard. How could I ever be ashamed of her? She's one of the most amazing women I've ever had the honor to meet. And she's mine. All mine. My thoughts darken lustfully at the realization.
"Why is it odd?" she asks me now, shattering the arousing direction of my thoughts.
"Because I've never done it before." Another first.
"Why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I'm not?" she demands.
I blink at her. "I wasn't aware that I was."
"Neither am I, usually," she barks at me.
Why, the nerve of her, to use that tone with me! I feel my eyes narrow at her, but before I can do anything about it, Taylor steps into the doorway.
"Dr. Greene is here, sir," he announces.
"Show her up to Miss Steele's room," I tell him.
He nods and ducks out to do as I've told him.
"Ready for some contraception?" I ask her. I stand and hold my hand out toward her.
"You're not going to come as well, are you?" she asks, gasping. It's apparent she's surprised.
I laugh at the idea. "I'd pay very good money to watch, believe me, Anastasia, but I don't think the good doctor would approve."
She slips her hand into mine, and I help her to her feet, pulling her to me. I press my lips to hers, kissing her hard, passionately. Her hands are on my upper arms, one of mine in her hair, holding her face to mine. I press my forehead to hers. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait to get you naked."
.
Dr. Greene is waiting in Anastasia's room, and she stands when we walk in. "Mr. Grey," she greets me, shaking my hand quickly and formally. She has a firm, warm grip.
"I appreciate you coming on such short notice," I tell her.
"Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele," she greets Anastasia, smiling at her.
They shake hands, and after Dr. Greene gives me a very meaningful, pointed stare, I decide this is my cue to leave them to it.
"I'll be downstairs," I tell Anastasia, and I leave, closing the door behind me.
.
While I wait for the doctor and Anastasia to finish with their appointment, I turn on 'Villa Lobos', a beautiful aria. It always calms me to listen to it.
I set the breakfast bar for lunch, knowing it will motivate me to force ourselves to eat before we do anything else.
Sitting down on the couch, I pick up the paper again, flipping over to the business section.
Awhile later, they step into the room, and I gaze up at them expectantly. "Are you done?"
I lower the volume of the music and stand, walking toward them, where they stand in the doorway of the great room.
"Yes, Mr. Grey," Dr. Greene tells me, "Look after her; she's a beautiful, bright young woman."
I'm a little taken aback by her words. How forward of her to say such a thing. Plus, it's a little transparent, as if she knows exactly what I have in store for Anastasia. Finally, after a brief moment, I manage to recover some composure. "I fully intend to," I tell her. Anastasia shrugs at me.
"I'll send you my bill," Dr. Greene tells me, ever formal, and shakes my hand once more.
"Good day, and good luck to you, Ana," she says, and smiles at her. They shake hands as well. Taylor steps into the room to lead Dr. Greene out. After they leave, I turn toward Anastasia.
"How was that?"
"Fine, thank you. She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks."
My stomach free falls to the floor, and I feel my jaw drop. What? How can that be? I am filled with dread, my mood plummeting.
Suddenly, Anastasia's face splits into a huge grin. "Gotcha!" she cries.
Oh my. What a jokester I have on my hands. Well, two can play at that game. I narrow my eyes at her, giving her the most foreboding glare I can manage. I see the reaction I've been hoping for on her face. All the humor drains from her eyes, and she pales slightly.
"Gotcha!" I tell her, smirking down at her. I grip her around her perfect, tiny waist and pull her tight to me. "You are incorrigible, Miss Steele." I stare down into her eyes, braiding my fingers into her long, silken hair, holding her head in place. I lean down to kiss her deeply. A moment later, I force myself to pull away, just slightly, leaving my lips against hers.
"As much as I'd like to take you here and now, you need to eat and so do I. I don't want you passing out on me later."
"Is that all you want me for—my body?"
"That and your smart mouth." I kiss her again, sucking her bottom lip between mine, tasting the deliciousness. I slip my tongue into her mouth, tangling it with hers for a moment. I can feel my body beginning to respond, my length stirring in my pants, and I release her quickly, leading her over to the kitchen.
Eat. We need to eat. First things first.
"What's the music?" she inquires.
"'Villa Lobos,' an aria from Bachianas Brasileiras. Good, isn't it?"
"Yes."
I pull the lunch Mrs. Jones has prepared for us. "Chicken Caesar salad okay with you?" I ask her.
"Yes, fine, thank you," she says.
I set to preparing the meal, and I notice her watching me. She seems lost in thought, and desperately, I wish to know what's on her mind.
"What are you thinking?" I ask her.
She blushes. "I was just watching the way you move."
Amused, I feel one of my eyebrows lift. "And?"
The pink in her face turns deeper. "You're very graceful."
"Why thank you, Miss Steele." I sit down beside her, a bottle of wine in my hand. "Chablis?"
"Please."
"Help yourself to salad," I urge her. "Tell me—what method did you opt for?" I'm dying to know.
She seems a little surprised by my question, but I have the right to know, don't I?
"Mini pill," she finally tells me.
I frown. Can she be trusted to remember to take it every day? It's not as effective if she misses taking it every once in a while. And I need it to be at its peak height of effectiveness. "And will you remember to take it regularly, at the right time, every day?" I demand of her.
She blushes again. "I'm sure you'll remind me," she tells me, and I detect an undercurrent of sarcasm in her tone.
That smart mouth of hers… "I'll put an alarm on my calendar," I quip. "Eat."
She does, obediently, and I am pleased. For once, she actually eats her entire meal, even going as far as to finish before I do. The salad is delicious, especially paired with the wine. I wonder if she's eating so fast, because she's just keen to move onto the next event of the day.
"Eager as ever, Miss Steele?" I ask, and I can't help but grin down at her emptied plate. Not a stitch of lettuce left.
She gazes at me, those full lashes batting. "Yes."
Oh, fuck. My breath spikes as the combined wavelengths of our arousal fills the room, coloring it a dark, stirring red. I stand, moving to close the distance between us, and I pull her off her seat, into my embrace.
"Do you want to do this?" I ask her.
"I haven't signed anything," she protests, her voice quiet.
"I know—but I'm breaking all the rules these days." All I want to do right now, is fuck her. I don't know how much longer I can wait. I don't know if I can even make it up to the playroom.
"Are you going to hit me?" she asks.
"Yes, but it won't be to hurt you. I don't want to punish you right now. If you'd caught me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story. Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise, Anastasia. One of the reasons people like me do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It's very simple. You don't, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that." I pull her closer, so she can feel the way she's affecting me, against her.
"Did you reach any conclusions?" she whispers, and I know she can feel the way my erection is pressing against her stomach.
"No, and right now, I just want to tie you up and fuck you senseless. Are you ready for that?" My body is on fire.
"Yes."
"Good. Come."
.
I open the door to the playroom, stepping back to allow her entrance first. She steps inside, and I can feel that heady, high feeling zipping through my veins, subtly at first, but growing more potent by the second. In my playroom, I'm in charge, and Ana is my submissive, no questions asked. I gaze down at her, beyond hard; unbelievably turned on. I need to get her naked. Now. But first, some ground rules.
"When you're in here, you are completely mine. To do with as I see fit. Do you understand?" I whisper to her.
Silently, she nods.
"Take your shoes off," I order her. The less hazards, the better.
I watch her swallow, and she does as I have asked. Yes, Anastasia. Do exactly as I say. Once they're off, I pick her shoes up and put them by the door.
"Good. Don't hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I'm going to peel you out of that dress. Something I've wanted to do for a few days, if I recall. I want you to be comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it. It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she says.
"Yes, what?" I demand.
"Yes, Sir."
Hmm… What those words do to me. "Do you mean that?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Lift your arms up over your head."
She lifts them, and I reach down to grip the hem of her dress in my hands. Slowly, I sweep the dress up over her amazing, flawless body, and over her head. I step back to admire the view before me. She's wearing a pale blue brasserie and panty set, clearly just for today, for me. I take a moment to appreciate that as I idly fold her dress. I abandon it on the chest by the door, knowing we'll have no use for it. When I turn back, she's biting her lip, and I reach up to tug it from her teeth's grasp.
"You're biting your lip. You know what that does to me," I tell her, "Turn around."
She does without pause, and I unclip her bra, sliding it off, skimming my fingers over the length of her arms, knowing my touch will set her skin on fire. Her back is completely bare, a span of gorgeous, impeccable porcelain skin. I examine it for a long moment, and then gather her hair at the nape of her neck, and tug so that she tilts her head to one side. I run my nose down the exposed column of her throat, inhaling her scent, all the way down to her shoulder, and then all the way back up to her ear.
Oh, the sweet, sweet scent of Anastasia Steele… It does things to me. "You smell as divine as ever, Anastasia," I tell her, and kiss her behind the ear.
Softly, she moans.
"Quiet. Don't make a sound." I begin to braid her hair and secure it with the hair tie I've kept in the pocket of my jeans. I tug firmly, and she steps back against my chest. "I like your hair braided in here," I whisper to her. I release her and order her to turn around.
She does, and I can hear that her breathing has quickened. I don't know if it's because she's afraid, or if it's because she's aroused. The flush in her cheeks tells me it must be the latter. "When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress," I tell her, "Just in your panties. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she breathes.
"Yes, what?" I urge.
"Yes, Sir," she whispers.
I feel the tug of a smirk at the corner of my lips. "Good girl. When I tell you to come in here, I expect you to kneel over there." I point to the usual place by the door. "Do it now."
She stares at me for just a moment, blinks, and then obeys my command, a little clumsily.
"You can sit back on your heels." She does. "Place your hands and forearms flat on your thighs." She does. "Good. Now part your knees." She eases them barely an inch apart. "Wider," I urge, and she inches them another millimeter or so. "Wider." She parts them another couple of inches. "Perfect. Look down at the floor."
Her gaze falls, and I admire the lovely Anastasia Steele, in utter submissive position. Hmm… The sight has never turned me on so much. I walk over to her, reach down, and yank on her braid so that her head tilts back and I can see her face again.
"Will you remember this position, Anastasia?" I ask her.
"Yes, Sir," she murmurs.
"Good. Stay here, don't move." I leave her kneeling and head downstairs. I walk through my bedroom and to the closet, where I pull off my shirt and switch my pants for the ratty pair of jeans I wear in my playroom. On my way back, I grab a robe and upon returning to the playroom, hang it on the back of the door.
Anastasia is where I've left her, kneeling, gaze downcast. "Good girl, Anastasia. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up."
She does, but she doesn't look at me. "You may look at me," I tell her softly.
She's adjusting to this quite well—I'm impressed. Her eyes lift to my face, that wonderful, depthless blue, and I gaze back at her, awed at her magnificence.
"I'm going to chain you now, Anastasia. Give me your right hand," I ask of her.
She lifts it, and I flip it so her palm faces up. I flick the middle of her palm with the brown riding crop I've been holding in my right hand—not hard, just firm enough that she'll feel a sting. "How does that feel?" I inquire, staring at her face intently. It hasn't registered a thing, not a reaction, not an emotion. Nothing.
She blinks at me, bemused.
"Answer me."
"Okay," she finally says, and her lips turn down into a frown.
"Don't frown," I demand.
She blinks, and her face is emotionless again.
"Did that hurt?" I ask her. She's giving nothing away.
"No," she answers.
Good. "This is not going to hurt. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she says, but she sounds unsure.
"I mean it," I tell her sincerely. I hold the riding crop out so she can see it. Brown plaited leather.
Her eyes flick up to mine. She's shocked, and I can feel the lust and amusement reflecting back from my own.
I'm broaching this with the tiniest realm of familiarity she has. Hopefully it will warm her to it. "We aim to please, Miss Steele. Come." I grip her under the elbow and lead her to beneath the grid. I've had it designed so I can move a submissive to anywhere in the room I please. I reach up for the black leather shackles and pull them down.
"This grid is designed so the shackles move across the grid," I tell her. I watch her gaze trace the maze the grid makes.
"We're going to start here, but I want to fuck you standing up. So we'll end up by the wall over there." I gesture with the riding crop toward the St. Andrew's Cross on the other end of the room. "Put your hands above your head," I order her.
She lifts them, and knowing full well that she can't touch me, I step up close to her. I fasten first her left wrist, and then the right, into the restraints. Finished, I step back to admire my handiwork.
Oh my fuck. She looks…edible. All tied up, with nowhere to go, completely at my mercy. I pace around her leisurely, admiring every inch of her. She really is a fine specimen of a woman.
"You look mighty fine trussed up like this, Miss Steele," I tell her. "And your smart mouth quiet for now. I like that." I'm back in front of her now, and I reach for her panties, pulling them over her hips and down her legs slowly, slowly, teasing her. Kneeling, I stare intently into her eyes as I crumple them up and hold them to my nose, inhaling deep the smell of her arousal. Mmm… I grin at her, registering the shock on her face, the way her lips part in surprise, and I tuck her underwear into my pocket.
I stand, trailing the crop lazily around her navel. As I do so, she trembles, and a short gasp exits her mouth. Oh, she likes this. I walk around her once more, dragging the crop around her tiny, perfectly defined waist. On my second circle, I flick the crop underneath her mighty fine ass, against her arousal.
She cries out, loudly, and pulls against her restraints, the chains rattling softly.
"Quiet," I whisper in command, though hearing her so responsive turns me on. I walk around her once more, trailing the crop a little higher now. She absorbs the swat the second time I hit her, not crying out, though her body still shudders. I move around to her front now, flicking the end of the crop against her right nipple, and she throws her head back. I flick the left as well, and I watch her nipples harden and lengthen in response to the short blows.
She moans loudly, pulling at the cuffs again.
"Does that feel good?" I breathe. My mouth is dry, and I swallow soundlessly. Oh fucking my. This is so hot, hotter than I ever remember it being before. There's just something about Anastasia Steele… Here, in my playroom, in my domain, under my command.
"Yes," she replies.
I swat her in the ass now, harder, and a moment later, I see the red line it leaves. Very nice. "Yes, what?" I demand.
"Yes, Sir," she keens.
I stop in front of her, and find that her eyes are closed, absorbing the sensations, I assume. I flick the crop in small, quick bites, down the center of her belly, through her pubic hair, and I swat her clitoris.
She cries out loudly at the assault. "Oh… please!"
"Quiet," I snap at her, and I swat her once more on her behind. I trail the crop around again, dragging it through her pubic hair, down over her clitoris, to her entrance. I can see the glistening of her arousal against that sweet, pink flesh of hers, and it turns me on like no other.
She likes this. She's enjoying this. It's turning her on, too.
"See how wet you are for this, Anastasia," I tell her, eyes on her face again. Her eyes are still shut. "Open your eyes and your mouth."
She opens first her eyes, though they remain hooded. Her pupils are dilated, the blue of her irises darkened by lust. When she parts her lips, I push the tip of the riding crop into her mouth, so that she can taste herself.
"See how you taste. Suck. Suck hard, baby."
Her eyes locked on mine, she sucks the taste of herself off the end of the crop. Shit, she is so hot. So mine. I pull the crop from her mouth and step forward, kissing her deeply, hard, pushing my tongue into her mouth so that I can taste her, too. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to me. "Oh, Anastasia, you taste mighty fine. Shall I make you come?"
"Please."
I swat her behind once more. She will learn soon enough.
"Please, what?" I push.
"Please, Sir."
I grin at her. Those words will never get old. "With this?" I ask, holding the crop up. Like her dream? A dream, which has become one of my own—at least during the daytime.
"Yes, Sir," she begs.
"Are you sure?" I tease.
"Yes, please, Sir."
"Close your eyes," I order her. This way, she'll feel the sensations better, more intensely. I begin flicking down her belly again, noting that her skin has pinked under the lick of the crop. I head south, through her pubic hair, softening the crop against her clitoris, one, two, three times, and she explodes. That's all it takes.
She falls apart in front of me, moaning, and crying out loudly through her orgasm. When she's finished, she sags against the restraints, weakened, and I wrap my own arms around her to support her weight. She whines softly, her head on my chest. I lift her, sliding her backwards across the room, toward the cross. I'm going to fuck her now. I've waited long enough. My cock is throbbing after that show. Quickly, I flick open the buttons of my jeans, freeing my erection, and slide on a condom, then my hands are on her again, wrapping around her thighs, lifting her, level with my hips.
"Lift your legs, baby, wrap them around me," I urge her.
She does, and I know she's weak, but I have to give her credit. She's doing so well.
I ram myself inside of her, and that familiar, tight, wet territory, which I'm slowly getting used to, consumes me. I can't bite back my moan as she wraps herself around me, so soft, so smooth. I barely hear her cry out. I think I'm having an out of body experience. The circumstances are overwhelming. I can't believe we're finally fucking doing this. I thrust into her, again and again, my face buried in her neck. Her smell, her body, the atmosphere of the room all surrounds me, and I can hear my breath growing harsher, more ragged. Soon after, she comes apart once more, and her orgasm triggers my own. I call out through clenched jaw as I come, emptying myself into her.
I pull out of her, and set her against the cross, supporting her body with my own, knowing she'll be feeling exhausted now, though I'd like to go again. I free her from the cuffs, and pull her onto my lap as we sink to the floor. Her head lolls against my chest, but for some reason, I'm not bothered by it.
"Well done, baby," I congratulate her, "Did that hurt?"
"No," she whispers.
"Did you expect it to?" I ask, pushing a few curling strands of hair off her face, which have escaped her braid.
"Yes," she whispers again, completely honest.
"You see, most of your fear is in your head, Anastasia." I hesitate for a moment, fearful of the answer this next question might trigger: "Would you do it again?"
She's quiet for a moment, thinking, I assume. Finally, barely audible, she says: "Yes."
Joy explodes in my chest like a firecracker, and I hug her tightly against me. "Good. So would I." I lean down and kiss the top of her head, over the moon. She's holding up better than I thought she would. "And I haven't finished with you yet."
We're quiet for another moment, and then she moves, just slightly, her face turning into my chest, her nose brushing against my skin—NO! I feel every muscle in my body clench against the feeling. No, no, no. I bite back the metallic tang of panic rising in the back of my throat.
She pulls back slightly, opening her eyes to look up at me. "Don't," I whisper to her, and I'm surprised there's any sound to the word. I can't bear it. I try to ignore the panicked, horrendous, overwhelming thoughts surfacing inside my mind.
Blood floods her cheeks, and she glances down at my chest. Please, please don't touch me again. No more, please. I can't bear it.
"Kneel by the door," I tell her, and I sit back, releasing her. I am overwhelmed by the need to fuck her again. I am surprised by the intensity of my sudden, flaming need for it. But who am I to turn it down?
She does as she's been told, and I stand, removing the condom. I tie it up, then tuck myself away again, but not for long. I walk leisurely over to the dresser, dispose of the condom, and retrieve what I need next before crossing over to where she is bowed over. Her shoulders are slumped, and I catch a glance of her face. Her eyes are drooping, as if she were about to fall asleep. The site is unexpectedly amusing.
"Boring you, am I, Miss Steele?" Somewhere deep down, I know I should let her sleep, but I'm not thinking about her right now. I need to fuck her; I need to be inside of her again.
She jerks to attention. She really is very tired.
"Stand up."
She staggers to her feet and eyes me. I can see the exhaustion in her face. "You're shattered, aren't you?" She nods, blushing.
"Stamina, Miss Steele." Maybe now she'll rethink the exercise clause. "I haven't had my fill of you yet. Hold out your hands in front as if you're praying."
She presses her palms together, and I smirk to myself, enjoying my own private joke as I produce one of the cable ties she helped me purchase at Claytons a couple of weeks ago. As I fasten it firmly around her wrists, her gaze flies to mine, shocked.
"Look familiar?" I tease her, and try as I may, I can't hide my grin. She looks significantly less exhausted now. "I have scissors here," I assure her, holding them up so that she can see them. "I can cut you out of this in a moment."
I watch as she flexes her wrists, testing her bounds.
"Come," I command softly, taking her bound hands to lead her over to the four poster bed. The need to fuck her again is roaring in my chest now, like some sort of demon, or monster. I can no longer ignore it. "I want more—much, much more. But I'll make this quick. You're tired. Hold on to the post."
We are standing at the foot of the bed now, and I watch her frown as she processes my words. I barely register her expression. Honestly, the need in me is so strong, I don't even care that she's non-plussed by my request. I need to fuck her badly. Now. Hard. Fast. I need to chase away this roaring, burning, crowding, too loud sensation in my chest. I need to let it out, and this is the only way I know how.
Anastasia leans forward and takes the post in both of her hands.
"Lower," I coach. She shifts her grasp into a better position. "Good. Don't let go. If you do, I'll spank you. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispers faintly.
"Good." I grip her hips, admiring that gorgeous ass of hers, still pink from the lick of the riding crop, and displayed quite prominently by the way she's bending over. I'm not complaining. I shift her into position, so that I'm lined up with her entrance.
"Don't let go, Anastasia," I tell her, "I'm going to fuck you hard from behind." And as I say the words, I can feel the monster begin to fade; it's a relief. "Hold the post to support your weight. Understand?"
"Yes," she says.
I swat her ass hard, and watch as it turns red, in the shape of my handprint.
"Yes, Sir," she corrects herself.
"Part your legs," I instruct, but she's not fast enough, so I shift my thigh between hers and push them apart myself. "That's better," I say, admiring the beautiful, delicious view of her—bent over in front of me, vulnerable and so, so exposed. I can see the pink, glistening flesh between her legs. "After this, I'll let you sleep." I graze the rest of her body with my eyes, hungrily. Hell, she's so beautiful. That skin so pure, so flawless, so clean, and pure. I can't get enough of it. I release one of my hands and trail it up and over the soft, supple skin of her back.
"You have such beautiful skin, Anastasia," I whisper, and bend to kiss it, trailing my lips up her spine. As I do so, I reach around for her breasts, warm and full in my hands. I pinch her nipples between my fingers and pull on them gently. I tease her, languidly, settling into the ease this brings me—as if I'm floating through water. The ache is still there, still growling. I need to go deeper. Reluctantly, I pull my hands off her body and tear open a condom packet, removing my jeans at the same time. I stare at her captivating behind the entire time. Mmm…
"You have such a captivating, sexy ass, Anastasia Steele. What I'd like to do to it." I run my hands over her cheeks and then slip my right hand down, dipping two fingers inside of her. Oh fuck yes. She's ready. "So wet. You never disappoint, Miss Steele." I've never been with a woman who is always so prepared, so wet, so quickly. "Hold tight… This is going to be quick, baby."
I watch her hands tighten incrementally around the post as I take her hips in my grasp again and line myself up. I reach up and grip her braid in my hand, winding it around my wrist, securing her in place. I force myself to enter her slowly, at a nearly torturous pace—but what can I say? I'm a firm believer in delayed gratification. As I ease myself inside her, I feel that wet tightness stretch around me, adjusting to my invasion. And it's so, so deep like this. I nearly shudder at the sensation.
Oh fuck, so good… I pull completely out, glancing down quickly. My cock glistens with her wetness, and turns me the fuck on. I can't hold back any longer—I plunge into her. The suddenness of my assault jerks her forward.
"Hold on, Anastasia!" I call to her through clenched teeth. Please don't let go, please don't let go…
My eyes are shut, so I don't see if she adjusts herself or not, but I can't stop myself now. I feel her hips push back into me, forcing me deeper inside.
Oh, shit. Vaguely, I can feel my grip on her tightening, but I'm too focused on the sensation building inside me—the pressure, the sparks of my approaching orgasm building, gathering into a small flame. It licks up my insides, building in intensity, in heat…
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. I swear it's never been as good as it is with Anastasia Steele. Her body is so right, so perfect against mine, shaping around mine.
I'm building faster than I thought I would. I thrust deeper into her, aiming for that sweet spot inside her. Oh god, she needs to come again…
"Come on, Ana, give it to me," I groan, so close. As if my words are her undoing, she explodes around me, the muscles inside her clenching and then releasing, spasming around my length, and I bury myself inside her, letting go myself.
"Oh, Ana!" I gasp as my orgasm rips through me, taking hold of every fiber of my being. The orgasm, the complete sensation, becomes me. I am my orgasm. There is nothing else expect this sweet, sweet ecstasy; this sweet, sweet oblivion.
Anastasia's orgasm fizzles out nearly at the same moment mine does. I barely have time to recover, because as she moans softly, her grip on the post loosens.
"Shit," I half gasp, half groan, gripping her around the waist so that she doesn't collapse.
Slowly, I sink to the floor, with her in my embrace. I can't sit—the orgasm has made me weak, and so I lie back, letting her recline against my chest. We lay there in silence for a little while, and I'm able to gather both my breath and my wits.
Oh, fuck—that was good.
Anastasia is prostrate across my chest, and for a moment I entertain the thought that I've done her in by orgasm. What a way to go.
I nuzzle her ear with my nose, inhaling the sweet scent of her.
"Hold up your hands." I tell her as I reach out to get the scissors from my jeans and fumble the safety cover off.
She does, and I pass the blade of the scissors under the plastic binding. "I declare this Ana open," I joke, still high and giddy from the sex.
She giggles at my words, a wonderfully lovely sound, and rubs her wrists. I grin at the sound of it.
"That is such a lovely sound." I shift us both into a sitting position, all of a sudden troubled. "That's my fault." I'm the reason she's so serious all of the time. I've given her so much to think about, to process—it's always flying at her. I wish I could be like Elliot—cracking jokes all the time, making the girls laugh. But I'm not. I'm just fucked-up Christian Grey.
I lift my hands to massage her shoulders, knowing she'll be sore, if she isn't already. Anastasia turns to glance at me, and I see the confusion on her face.
"That you don't giggle more often," I explain.
"I'm not a great giggler," she protests, her voice quiet.
"Oh, but when it happens, Miss Steele, 'tis a wonder and joy to behold," I tell her, every bit of my words honest and true. I love hearing her giggle. It makes me light inside, as if my chest cavity has been filled with helium. When she giggles, there is no weight to anything in the world, and nothing else matters in that moment expect for me and her.
"Very flowery, Mr. Grey," she approves. She nearly slurs the words she's so exhausted; I watch as she fights to keep her eyes open. She blinks once, very slowly—in the second before she opens her eyes again, I wonder if she'll fall asleep right here, on my playroom floor.
"I'd say you're thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep," I say.
"That wasn't flowery at all," she groans.
I can't help but grin, amused by her words, and I pull myself into a standing position. I have to admit, I'm tired, too. I haven't done a scene in so long, and though I've been exercising regularly, my muscles are out of practice. Add in the fact that I haven't gotten very much sleep since 3am yesterday, when I got up to pick up Mia from the airport, and it's easy to say that I could use a nap as well. I pull my jeans back on, aware that Anastasia is watching me through half-hooded, sleepy eyes.
"Don't want to frighten Taylor, or Mrs. Jones for that matter."
She just sits there, and I bend to help her stand, guiding her over to the door, where I hung a gray waffle robe. I pull it off the hook on the back of the door and wrap her in it. I lean down to kiss her swiftly, and I smile at her. She looks absolutely ravaged.
"Bed." For a moment, apprehension dawns in her eyes, and I realize almost immediately what for. "For sleep," I reassure her. I bend and spoon her into my arms. Honestly, I don't know if she'll make it down the hall. I'd better carry her. Plus, I'm feeling just a little bit playful. I carry her to her bedroom, pull back the cream duvet on the bed, and lay her down.
I remove the condom, knot it and toss it in the wastebasket next to the bed, rezipping my jeans.
As I crawl in beside her, I note that she very well could already be asleep. Still, I lean over her to check. She's breathing very softly, evenly. Her eyes are shut. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lashes flutter over her cheekbones like butterfly wings.
"Sleep now, gorgeous girl," I breathe and kiss her hair. I lie down on the pillow next to hers, and pull her back to me. She's really very cozy in this robe. I cuddle up to her back and close my eyes. And before I know it, I'm asleep too.