Friday, June 10th 2011
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"Make love to me."
"How?" I ask her. I'm already rock hard.
She stares at me.
"You have to tell me, baby," I urge her.
"Undress me," she finally instructs. With pleasure.
I smile at her, hooking my finger into the front of her shirt, tugging her a few steps toward me.
"Good girl." Slowly, I begin to unbutton her shirt.
In measured movements, so I see it coming I think, she puts her hands on my arms, so that she doesn't lose her balance. This is okay. Arms are safe, for some unknown reason.
The last button released, I push the shirt over her shoulders, and it falls to the floor. She stands there in front of me, in her lacy bra, in all of her alabaster, smooth skinned glory. I am one lucky man. How I've missed this.
Next, I unbutton her jeans and undo the zipper.
"Tell me what you want, Anastasia."
My breaths are coming faster now, as I expose more and more of her body to me. A body I've gone too long without.
"Kiss me from here to here," she pants, trailing a finger from her ear to her throat.
Reaching forward, I brush her hair back, over her shoulder and do as she says, taking my sweet time, leaving gentle, open mouthed kisses from the base of her ear, down the side of her neck, and back up again.
"My jeans and panties," she says, and I can't help but grin. Her commands are coming more quickly, more confidently. I wonder if it's because she's becoming braver in her aroused state.
I drop to my knees in front of her, worshiping her like the goddess she is.
In one swift move, I pull her jeans and panties to her ankles. Carefully, she steps out of the flats she's wearing, easing her feet through the leg holes, so that she's left towering above me only in her bra.
Oh, what a sight to see. I am basking in this experience. To give her all of the power makes me feel alive and wonderful. Not in the way giving all the power felt when I was with Elena. This is different. This is... More.
I stay there, on my knees in front of her, staring up at her, waiting for her next command.
"What now, Anastasia?" I ask.
"Kiss me," she breathes.
"Where?" I ask, though I think I know.
"You know where," she says, confirming my thoughts.
"Where?" I ask again. She has to beg for it. I told her she had to be specific, and I'm holding to that.
Clearly embarrassed, her cheeks flaming, she points at the spot between her legs, the promised land.
I grin, holding nothing back. I watch her close her eyes, and I can't tell if she's abashed or turned on.
"Oh, with pleasure," I tell her, chuckling softly.
Leaning in, I inhale the sweet, musky smell of her arousal. I plant a quick kiss, and then open my mouth to unleash my tongue on that succulent, pink wet flesh of hers. She's already swollen with arousal, and so it's easy to find her clitoris, erect and standing at attention.
She groans, weaving her hands into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp.
I keep going, hands on her hips, holding her steady, circling her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, sweeping it around and around, faster and faster.
"Christian, please," she gasps after awhile.
"Please what, Anastasia?" I ask, stopping only to speak.
"Make love to me."
"I am," I whisper, blowing against her overheated, damp thighs.
"No, I want you inside me," she insists.
"Are you sure?"
"Please."
I continue my ministrations, bringing her closer to the edge. I'd really like to make her come like this, I love making her come like this, but she's the one in charge.
She moans loudly. "Christian," she pants, "Please."
Reluctantly, I force myself to stop and stand. I stare at her for a moment or two, admiring her face, flushed with desire.
"Well?"
"Well what?" she asks, still breathing hard, staring at me with such an expression it makes me weak in the knees. Searching, wanting, needing... Begging.
"I'm still dressed."
For a moment she only stares at me, but then she reaches for my shirt.
"Oh no," I chide, forcing down the panic.
She looks taken aback for a second, but not for long. Resolve dawns in her eyes, and she drops to her knees in front of me. Oh shit. Is she going to do what I think she's going to do? Oh, please, Ana, do what I think you're going to do...
She pops the button on my jeans and drags the zipper of my fly down with shaking hands, then pulls my jeans and boxers down all at once.
My cock bounds free to meet her, a salute almost.
I stare at her, kneeling in front of me wearing only her bra, in absolute and utter amazement. I can't believe I've gotten her back, I can't believe she's mine, that she is here with me and hasn't sent me away. In all her gorgeous, heart stopping glory she's here with me. Taking control. Despite her innocent facade, she's an unstoppable seductress underneath, and I adore every fucking ounce of it.
She glances up at me, through her lashes, and fuck me that stare is hot.
I shake my pants off and she grips my dick with one hand, squeezing tightly, running it down the shaft with just the exact amount of pressure.
I groan, my breath hissing through my teeth, which I suddenly realized are clenched. Fuck, I've forgotten how good this is. How had I forgotten?
Then her mouth is on me, and she's sucking hard.
"Ahh, Ana... Whoa, gently," I warn her. Fuck, I'm like a fifteen-year-old boy. If she keeps going on like this, I'll come in her mouth in a matter of thirty seconds, maybe.
I cradle her head in my hands, closing my eyes, trying hard to leave the control up to her, and not fuck her mouth how I'd like.
I feel her wrap her lips around her teeth now, and sucking harder than before.
"Fuck," I hiss at the sensation it spurs in me. Like fire and ice in one, the intensity of both. She keeps going, swirling her tongue around the tip, lighting me up like a live wire when she does.
"Ana, that's enough," I say, "No more."
She doesn't seem to hear me, or if she has, she's ignoring me. She keeps going.
Oh, shit, I'm close.
"Ana, you've made your point," I growl, jaw clenched. Don't come, Grey. Don't do it. Not yet. Not when you haven't even made it to the best part. "I do not want to come in your mouth."
Before, my orgasms were something I could control, almost as if I could will them to, or not to, happen. But around Ana, my control is in an entirely different realm. It's non-existant. Especially when it comes to orgasms.
She swirls her tongue around my tip one more time, and I grip her by the shoulders, hauling her to her feet. I push her back a couple feet and throw her on the bed. I rip my shirt over my head and grab the condom from my jeans pocket-I packed a couple this morning, just in case, thinking ahead. I didn't know for sure if she'd been remembering her pill, so I figured I'd be prepared. Good thing I was.
"Take your bra off." My breaths come in puffs.
She sits up and reaches around back to unhook it. She drags the straps down her arms and pulls the cups away from her chest, revealing herself to me. Holy hell. She is the most perfect specimen I have ever seen.
"Lie down. I want to look at you." She eases herself onto her back, staring up at me, watching me roll the condom on. She is delicious.
I run my tongue over my lips. "You are a fine sight, Anastasia Steele," I tell her, climbing over top of her, kissing each breast and nipple as I go. I mean to only do it once, but they feel so good against my lips, in my mouth, that I focus my attention on each of them in turn, for a good long moment.
She moans and squirms underneath me, slave to my actions.
"Christian, please," she whimpers.
"Please what?"
"I want you inside me," she begs.
"Do you now?" I ask her.
"Please."
Well, as luck would have it, I want inside her too. I rear up, eyes on hers, and ease her legs apart with mine. Grey eyes to blue, I push into her, ever so slowly, tortuously slow, feeling every single inch of her surround me, every drop of arousal, every muscle clenching.
She squeezes her eyes shut, chin tipping up slightly as I fill her. Her hips shift up to meet mine, and she groans loudly. Gently and at the same exact pace I pull all the way out and then push very slowly back in again. My teeth are clenched. I want to relish this, just for a minute: me, and her, and the simple act of coming together again after far too long apart.
She braids her fingers through my hair, and I repeat it once more: in... And out...
"Faster, Christian," she gasps, "Faster... Please."
Oh, look at that. Begging. Whining and everything.
Feeling on top of the world, I gaze down at her. I crush my lips to hers, and then I really begin to pound into her. And as soon as I begin, I know, I know it's not going to last long, but that's okay, because we have later tonight, and tomorrow morning, and the next night...
I feel her begin to tense beneath me, her muscles spasming around me.
"Come on, baby. Give it to me."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, she comes-miraculously and gloriously falling apart around me. Her orgasm, as she clamps around me, triggers my own.
I fall, twisting, spinning, into a mind-numbing orgasm, one of such great magnitude, I don't know if it's ever been so good.
"Ana! Oh fuck, Ana!" I cry, and completely worn, I collapse on top of her, burying my face in her neck, breathing her in, in huge, gasping mouthfuls of air.
In a few moments, clarity will return, I will regain some strength. But for now, I stay where I am.
.
I prop myself up on my elbows, holding Ana's hands by her head so that she can't touch me, and brush my nose against hers, softly, tenderly.
I feel absolutely at peace, blissful in this afterglow.
As I pull out of her, I kiss her on the mouth softly.
"I've missed this."
"Me too," she breathes.
I take her chin in my fingers and deliver a harder, more passionate kiss. I pour everything I can into it, all the songs on the iPad, all the dreams, all the feelings I can't express.
"Don't leave me again," I beg her, searching her eyes for any inkling that it might happen again, that she might walk away again. How can I know she won't, when she promised she wouldn't last time, but did it anyway? How can I know?
She means so much to me, I can't ever live without her.
"Okay," she breathes simply, and her lips turn up in a beautiful smile.
My answering smile radiates from my face. God, she's wonderful.
"Thank you for the iPad," she says.
"You are most welcome, Anastasia."
"What's your favorite song on there?" she ponders aloud.
"Now, that would be telling," I tease, beaming. "Come cook me some food, wench. I'm famished." I sit up, pulling her with me.
"Wench?" she asks, giggling.
"Wench," I respond, that giggle ringing in my ears. "Food, now, please."
"Since you ask so nicely, sire, I'll get right on it," she replies.
As she turns to get out of bed, she knocks her pillow askew. It takes me a second, but as a reach for it, I realize it's the deflated helicopter balloon I sent with the champagne a few weeks ago. I turn my eyes on her, confused.
"That's my balloon," she says, standing now, reaching for her robe. She swaths herself in it, tying the sash tight around her tiny waist.
"In your bed?"
"Yes," she says, blushing. "It's been keeping me company."
"Lucky Charlie Tango."
"My balloon," she repeats, turns on her heel and exits her bedroom.
I'm left grinning like an idiot in her bed.
.
My wench can cook.
"This is good," I compliment her after my first tentative taste, digging in for a bigger bite.
We're eating chicken stir fry and noodles in little white china bowls. We're drinking (chilled) Pinot Grigio, and I've turned the Buena Vista Social Club on for background noise.
I sit leaning against the couch, hair a disaster, in my jeans and shirt. Ana sits beside me, cross-legged, in her robe, chowing down hungrily. It sends me to the moon to see her eating so well.
"I usually do all the cooking," she tells me, "Kate isn't a great cook."
"Did your mother teach you?" I inquire.
"Not really," she says, scoffing a laugh. "By the time I was interested in learning how to, my mom was living with Husband Number Three in Mansfield, Texas. And Ray, well, we would've lived on toast and takeout if it weren't for me."
I watch her for a moment, curious. It seems strange to have left her mother so young, to live with her stepfather.
"Why didn't you stay in Texas with your mom?"
I remember asking this once before, but I never really got an answer to it.
"Her husband, Steve, and I... We didn't get along. And I missed Ray. Her marriage to Steve didn't last long. She came to her senses, I think. She never talks about him." She's quiet now, and I think she feels badly for her mother.
"So you stayed in Washington with your stepfather," I say.
"I lived very briefly in Texas. Then went back to Ray," she explains.
"Sounds like you looked after him." The man adores her.
"I suppose," she says, shrugging.
"You're used to taking care of people." Something about the realization throws me off, makes me cautious. Does that mean she'll want to take care of me? Nobody takes care of me.
She glances at me. "What is it?" she asks, in reference to the comment I must have said too sharply. Or maybe it's my eyes, which I can feel clouding over with apprehension.
"I want to take care of you," I admit softly, those emotions I'm so unfamiliar with welling up inside. They're warm and soft and tender, but they still don't sit well. I'm used to extreme emotions-anger, lust... I'm not used to this strange, floaty, easy-going feeling. It's different from playfulness; it's different from peace. It's a combination of the two, wrapped up with a couple other things.
"I've noticed," she breathes, "You just go about it in a strange way."
I feel myself frown. "It's the only way I know how."
"I'm still mad at you for buying SIP," she says.
I can't help but grin at her. "I know, but you being mad, baby, wouldn't stop me."
"What am I going to say to my work colleagues, to Jack?" she asks me.
Jack. And here we were, having a grand old time. Why'd she have to bring that scum up?
"That fucker better watch himself."
"Christian!" she chides, "He's my boss."
I press my lips together. Truth be told, I don't think him being her boss would stop him.
"Don't tell them."
"Don't tell them what?"
"That I own it," I elaborate, "The heads of agreement was signed yesterday. The news is embargoed for four weeks while the management at SIP makes some changes."
"Oh." Now she looks worried. "Will I be out of a job?"
"I sincerely doubt it." I try to hide my smile, but I don't think I succeed. If I have anything to do with it, she will not lose her job. In fact, if I have anything to do with it, she'll go as high up in the ranks as she can go.
Her expression falls now, and she scowls at me. "If I leave and find another job, will you buy that company, too?"
"You're not thinking of leaving, are you?" I ask, suddenly wary.
"Possibly. I'm not sure you've given me a great deal of choice," she says.
"Yes, I will buy that company, too," I say, making my choice. If that's what it takes to keep her safe, I'll buy all the companies in Seattle.
Her frown deepens.
"Don't you think you're being a tad overprotective?" she implores.
"Yes. I am fully aware of how this looks."
"Paging Dr. Flynn," she mumbles under her breath.
I put down my bowl and stare at her without expression. She exhales softly and stands, reaching for my empty dish.
"Would you like dessert?" she offers.
"Now you're talking!" I grin at her suggestively.
"Not me. We have ice cream. Vanilla." She pauses and giggles.
"Really?" My grin widens as the possibilities come filtering in. "I think we could do something with that."
She only stares at me, cautious and skeptical.
I get to my feet.
"Can I stay?" I ask her.
"What do you mean?"
"The night," I elaborate.
"I assumed that you would," she confesses.
"Good. Where's the ice cream?"