Chapter 3: Un-contractual sexcapade
AKA: Their last weekend in Portland

It's funny how we outgrow what we once thought we couldn't live without,

and then we fall in love with what we didn't even know we wanted.

Life keeps leading us on journeys we would never go on if it were up to us.

Don't be afraid. Have faith. Find the lessons.

I had expected the weekend to be plagued with new experiences and unprecedented situations, but I couldn't have predicted just how exceptional it would get.

On Friday afternoon, I flew Elliot and myself to Portland. He had a project he needed to check on from Monday till Thursday, as he was helping to make a new building eco-friendlier. He was also running away from some chick obsessed with his dick, so he begged me for an earlier escape from Seattle.

It had been a while ever since I'd gone mountain biking and hiking, and I was in a particularly good mood thanks to Anastasia, so I volunteered to fly us to Portland. I was planning on spending the following twenty-four hours with Elliot, being as much outdoors as possible, before flying Anastasia to Seattle on Saturday night. Then I'd return her back home on Sunday and fly back to Seattle immediately—all of these without Elliot knowing, as my sexual life was none of his business. Finally, I'd fly back to Vancouver on Thursday for WSU's graduation and return to Seattle with Elliot in the evening.

But on Friday night, after Elliot and I had had a filling dinner and while we were watching a baseball postgame analysis, Anastasia called me. I grabbed my phone with slight desperation, worried about her. She was supposed to be out with Miss Kavanagh, celebrating the end of her finals' week. What if something had happened to her?

I answered right away, while standing up to step out of the room so Elliot wouldn't eavesdrop.

As soon as I had answered the phone, she slurred, "Christian."

"Anastasia?" I asked, anxiousness transparent in my voice.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What are you talking about? Are you drunk? You promised not to drink too much." I couldn't believe her! She had assured me she'd take good care of herself.

"I didn't," she claimed. "I only had a beer and a shot or two."

"Don't lie to me Anastasia." She was slurring her words and speaking nonsense. She was drunk.

"I'm not. Why did you rewrite the contract?"

"Because you asked me to. Where are you?" I needed to go and get her. Good thing Elliot had needed to leave Seattle!

"But why? Why not just move onto another girl?"

"Because I don't want another one. I want you. I want to make things work between us." I needed it.

"But—"

"So help me, Anastasia! Where are you, damn it?"

"A bar," she answered, the sarcastic little nymph, and then she hung up on me.

I was livid.

Right away I called Welch and had him track her burner phone, which technically belonged to me, making his actions just this side of legal.

"Who is Anastasia?" asked Elliot the instant I was back. I clearly hadn't stepped into the other room soon enough.

"Someone I need to look for at a bar and take home."

"I'm coming with you!" he exclaimed excitedly.

I didn't like it, but the alternative was to refuse and have him pester me about her for the following month. This way, he'd see we were merely acquaintances—not the truth, but that was the way Anastasia and I would behave in public—and go back to thinking I was celibate.

Welch texted me the address in a matter of minutes. The bar wasn't in Vancouver—where Anastasia lived, and where the BDSM club and WSU were placed—but rather in Portland, not far from the Heathman, where I was staying with Elliot.

I called back Anastasia right away. "I'm on my way," I informed her angrily the instant she answered the phone, and then hung up.

Reynolds—one of my security guys who usually worked at GEH but was happy to stand as my CPO on weekends for extra money—had arrived with my car an hour ago. I insisted he could stay at the hotel as I'd be back in less than half an hour, and took Elliot with me to the bar. We arrived in less than ten minutes, and I was able to park close to the door. My brother followed me inside, buzzing with energy and curiosity.

The bar was crowded and dark, colourful lights going on and off at short intervals. Students were dancing on an overgrown dancefloor, celebrating the end of the school year. I'd have a hard time finding Anastasia if she was among them, so I scanned the tables first. The room was so dark it should have taken me longer to find her, but she was standing in direct view of the entrance, staring at me wide eyed. Despite my anger, I snickered. She looked like a kitty about to be eaten by a lion. No one would believe she hid a tiger within.

I noticed Anastasia's eyes focused on my right and I turned to look at Elliot, who was watching me with amusement.

"Why don't you go, entertain yourself for a few minutes?" I suggested, pointing at the dance floor. I knew the stubborn brunette would need to be talked into leaving, and I'd rather do it without my brother overhearing.

He looked at the sweaty bodies dancing under the colourful lights, scanning the crowd for a worthy companion.

"All right," he agreed right away, before swaggering into the dance floor with a slutty smile on his face

I walked towards Anastasia. I was glad to spot a bottle of water in her hands, and happy to see she was safe. And gorgeous too. She was wearing a short black dress with a golden belt that hugged her waist. Too bad I couldn't take a drunk girl to the BDSM club—consent was key for us, and she couldn't give it if she wasn't sober—and that Elliot was with me.

"Miss Steele," I greeted her once I was a step away from her.

"Mr Grey," she answered nervously, barely audible over the music.

"I'm glad to see you decided to switch to water," I commented, pointing at her bottle with my chin.

"I know how to stop when I've drunk too much," she answered back. She gave me a friendly but fake smile.

I didn't agree with her self-reflection. If her opinion was that this state didn't occur after drinking too much, then we'd have to review what 'alcohol in excess' meant, and maybe return a rule or two to our adapted contract.

"Too bad you couldn't find the line between tipsy and drunk."

"It was somewhere in the middle of my second and last shot."

I frowned, recalling what she had said during our call. She had claimed not having drunk much, and I had doubted her sincerity.

"Did you honestly only have a beer and two shots?"

"Aha," she nodded quickly, like an excited child.

"You are a lightweight," I realized. This had to mean she truly didn't drink often and hadn't built tolerance for alcohol.

I chuckled at her lack of experience in the drinking department, so completely contrasting from her expertise in the playroom. Most college students knew how to hold their drinks, not how to submit!

She frowned, insulted by my amusement.

"Come, sit with me," I suggested, as just then a table had been freed. It'd probably be better for her to sit down as she finished the little water she had left.

She took a few steps with me but stopped suddenly. I turned to look at her, wondering what her problem was.

"Dance with me," she asked with a slight pout and begging eyes.

She was adorable and it was hard for me to refuse her. Plus, she probably couldn't dance on a good day, least when she was drunk, so the experience promised to be a hilarious one. I laughed, predicting her gracelessness, and agreed.

"You've got a lovely laugh," she complimented me with sincerity as she left the nearly empty bottle on the vacant table.

I gave her a small smile, unused to such compliments—especially coming from her—and led her to the dancefloor. She looked like she wanted to jump me, and I opted to consider that flattering, too.

I noticed my brother was distracted with a blonde and guided Anastasia away from him, not wanting him to see me dancing with her and assume we were together. Surprised, I realized the blonde was Miss Kavanagh, whom I had met a few times when she'd accompanied her parents to a few galas and similar events. If Elliot wasn't a womanizer who'd forget all about her by the following weekend, I would have been worried. I didn't want him to spend too much time with Anastasia's friends, least he found out just how much time I was spending with my pretty brunette.

A song began to play and Anastasia started to move her hips, sensually yet not following the rhythm. I pressed my front against her back and placed my hands on her hips to guide her.

After several seconds, I noticed Elliot—who I'd kept an eye on, ensuring he wouldn't catch me dancing with a sexy woman among the young crowd—being dragged by Miss Kavanagh to a table with a few students. She sat him down before placing herself on his lap and shoving her tongue down his throat. She'd keep him entertained. I could focus on my Kitty.

There was something to be said about dancing so close to someone. Anastasia's warm and sexy body moved against me, only a few layers of clothes between us. My cock woke up and pressed itself against her ass, begging for attention. If only I didn't have to wait twenty-four hours before having her naked again and fucking her! It had been sixteen days ever since our last scene, and I was desperate for her. The dark room and her extreme proximity weren't helping.

"I'm not feeling so good," she said suddenly, halfway through the song.

Oh, no. I needed to take her out of there. "Let me drive you home," I demanded. A nice request wouldn't work with stubborn Miss Steele.

"I have to tell Kate first," she answered. I could have sworn she always had a reason to refute me. She was exasperating.

I guided her towards the table in which her roommate and my brother were making out, her weight heavier against me than normal. I cleared my throat and they looked up.

"Anastasia's not feeling well," I stated, keeping an eye on said lightweight. "I'll drive her to your apartment," I continued, looking at Katherine Kavanagh. Then, I turned to look at Elliot. "Are you staying?"

"Yes, yes. I'll just take a cab, bro. See you later."

I caught Miss Kavanagh waving goodbye at her roommate with a drunken suggestive smile. As if Anastasia was in a state to fuck that night. She could barely focus on staying upright.

I was quick and efficient in taking her out of the warm club and to the fresh air. We had only taken a couple of steps before she collapsed, her weight falling on me.

"Fuck!"

I caught her firmly before she could fall to the ground, I cradled her against my chest. Looking for my keys and opening the car door while holding onto her was complicated, but doable.

"Anastasia," I tried to awaken her once she was seated. I shook her shoulder, and she frowned and mumbled something incoherent. She didn't seem to be in danger, but chances were that the car ride to her apartment—which was half an hour away—would make her sick. I didn't want her throwing up in my Audi.

Most importantly, I didn't want to leave her unconscious and helpless in an empty apartment.

Thus, I drove us to The Heathman.

I had to carry her—and her purse—from the car to the elevator, and then to my suite. Good thing I was in shape. I took her directly to bed. I wasn't much of a gentleman, but I couldn't very well force her to sleep on the couch.

I placed her on top of the covers first, and rid her of her shoes and dress. She didn't help nor fight me, but she did mutter my name. I looked between my things for a plain forest green t-shirt and put her in it. She looked adorable in my clothes, several sizes too big for her. She was a petite thing, and I was tall and muscular. Once she was dressed comfortably, I opened the opposite side of the bed for her and rolled her towards it, before placing the covers on top of her. She curled up on her side, sighed, and relaxed.

She looked like an angel, and I added yet another creature to the list. Anastasia was such a complex being I needed to analyse her piece by piece.

Or maybe it was me the one complicating things. Maybe the problem was I had a preconceived idea of her that had already been proven wrong—submissive, obedient, good-tempered—but I was still trying to reconcile the real Anastasia Steele with the Kitty in my head.

The few things I was sure of included the most superficial facts, like her beauty and responsiveness in bed. She was sensual and great at sex, and that wouldn't change just because I knew her name. She didn't like harsh punishments, and probably never would. She was also clumsy, but graceful when standing still.

Then there were the things I had learnt the last several days. She was a lightweight. She was twenty-one and about to get her English Degree, and she wished to be an editor in Seattle. She was smart, and could be sarcastic and funny. She was as stubborn as me. She could do as ordered, but only sometimes—mainly when being promised orgasms. She was independent, or so she had claimed vehemently. She had a temper, but unlike me, she didn't have a short fuse. Rather, I knew which buttons to push, although half of the time I did so by accident. She was naturally kind and sweet, but not a pushover. And even if I angered and frustrated her, she wanted me, hopefully as much as I wanted her.

She was it all: a Goddess, and a nymph, and an angel, and a tiger. But was she a kitty? One of those angelic white, complacent balls of fur that hissed but didn't bite? Probably not. Maybe she was a white and grey striped cat with claws that liked to be pampered and caressed, but had an attitude and wasn't hesitant to scratch.

Nevertheless, people don't get rid of cats once they're not kittens anymore; not after they've fed them and pampered them; not just because they're not that easy to carry around and dominate as they used to be. So maybe Anastasia had become a tiger in front of my eyes—yet had been so ever since before meeting me—but she was still my Kitty.

I had been watching her for the last several minutes as I reflected on the girl that had me wrapped around her little finger but didn't know it. I snapped out of it and looked around the room. I noticed Anastasia's clothes. I didn't want her to make the walk of shame the next morning, wearing a black dress fit for a club, and it seemed like a perfectly good excuse to buy her clothes. I took out my phone and texted Reynolds, asking him to deliver as early as possible a summer dress, underwear, a bra and footwear, specifying the sizes.

Then, I texted Elliot.

Anastasia passed out, so I took her with me to the hotel. Please, inform Katherine.

As I took off my shoes, he answered:

Will do.

Hope you get laid.

You soooo need it. ;)

I snorted. He had no idea. Anastasia had given me blue balls of epic proportions.

I took off my clothes and put on pyjama pants. What now? The couch was comfortable enough for working, but not for sleeping. It was too short. Elliot and I had been active all day, and I was exhausted. What were the chances of her touching me as she slept? She had barely moved ever since passing out outside the club, and I didn't foresee she would. She wasn't likely to be the cuddling type either. Plus, she was curled up facing away from the middle of the bed. It seemed improbable she would thrash around and touch me in the middle of the night, so I decided to put on a t-shirt and get into bed with her.

I was still tense when I laid down, worried my assumption would be proven wrong. I focused on her shiny brunette hair and listened to her breathing, trying to sync my own respiration with hers. Her peace was contagious, and her presence was somehow soothing instead of threatening—like an angel that would protect me from my own demons instead of touching me and setting my chest on fire—so I fell asleep in no time at all.

I woke up at 7:26 the next morning. I couldn't recall the last time I had woken up after 6:00, or that I had slept for nearly seven hours. Seven! It was probably a new record. I felt better rested than ever.

I turned to my side, knowing the reason why.

Anastasia was sleeping besides me, curled up with her front towards me and her hands coiled under her chin. She looked as peaceful as the night before, lips slightly parted. She was beautiful and alluring, and I had a raging morning wood. I wanted to wake her up and take her, but she hadn't signed anything yet, so I didn't feel comfortable with the idea. Plus, she probably needed her sleep.

I got out of bed, and predicting my little lightweight would be hungover, I went hunting for Advil in the bathroom and orange juice in the minibar.

I had a lot of pent up energy, consequence of sleeping so well and waking up next to my enticing Kitty, so I put on workout clothes and spent the following hour in the hotel's gym. When I returned to the suite, there were three bags on the couch. I peeked inside one and noticed panties and a bra. The following bag had blue flip-flops, and the last, something made out of white cloth with orange and blue flowers; probably the dress.

I left the bags there for the moment and returned to the bedroom, where Anastasia was still sleeping peacefully. It was already nine in the morning! I gathered she was exhausted after a stressful week of final exams. It didn't seem I'd have to worry about her sleeping too little.

She looked as enticing as earlier, and I wanted to climb up in bed with her, wake her up, and fuck her senseless, but the new contract was yet to be signed and the old one had expired, so I opted to let her sleep for a little bit longer instead. I stepped back out of the bedroom and ordered us pancakes, bacon and eggs for breakfast, as well as coffee for myself and Twinning's English Breakfast tea for Anastasia.

I was sweaty from the exercise, so I walked into the bathroom to take a shower. My dick, which had calmed down when I had distracted myself by working out, was up again. I needed relief, and if I didn't want to self-combust before that night, I'd need to take matters into my own hands. Literally.

But my good actions of the night before were rewarded. I had shown up like a knight in grey armour to save the drunk Kitty, so she appeared in the bathroom like a sexy vision. There was something unexpectedly pleasant about seeing her in my t-shirt. It completely hid her figure, but it somehow marked her as mine. Having caught me pleasuring myself, her eyes were dark with desire. She bit that delicious lip of hers, turned on, and I realized I couldn't wait any longer. We didn't need a contract, anyway. Not to fuck in the shower, that is. I knew that if I ordered her not to touch my chest or back, she'd respect that limit.

So I asked her to take off her shirt and step into the shower. I pressed her back against the wall and held her hands above her, allowing myself to get lost in a kiss. We obviously hadn't had shower sex before, as it wasn't a possibility in the club. This, combined with the fact we had barely spent time outside the playroom, meant she didn't know she couldn't touch me. It was written down in the contract, of course, but for all she knew it was some arbitrary rule. So when she tried to remove her wrists from my hold—she was probably uncomfortable—I looked deeply into her eyes and whispered, "Don't touch my back or chest."

She frowned in confusion and looked down at my chest. I reacted quickly, grabbing her chin and guiding her eyes back to my face. "Don't," I asked, before distracting her with a kiss.

She gave as good as she got, if not better, exploring my mouth with her tongue and running her hands through my hair. It felt exquisite. Never had I allowed a Sub the freedom of touching my hair, but once again I could see the benefit of being more lenient with Anastasia. Rather than being presumptuous or misbehaving, she was proactive and gratifying. Not that she didn't occasionally misbehave of course, but what would be the fun if she was always good and proper?

I picked her up by her thighs and she wrapped her legs around me, giving me easy access to her wet, swollen pussy. She moaned and threw her head back as I stimulated her clit, freely showing her pleasure in the unrestrictive environment of the hotel's bathroom. Who would have thought there was something good to be said about rule-less sex?

"You're so ready for me, Kitty. So wet."

"Please, Sir," she whimpered, begging for me.

"Please, what?" I teased her.

"I want you, Sir."

"Where do you want me?" I wanted to hear her say it.

"I want you inside me, Master," she gasped, not blushing at all. Who could blame me for not understanding Anastasia Steele, when she seemed like two different people depending on whether she was clothed or not?

Having got what I'd wanted, I dived home, sliding my dick in her warm cunt and causing her to cry out in pleasure. I fucked her hard and fast, desperate for her after over two weeks of blue balls. I had missed her, and I was one lucky bastard to have her back in my life. All too soon, I was coming inside her and triggering her own orgasm.

We washed up afterwards. I didn't have to convince her to let me take care of her and wash her hair. It felt good to be able to do that little thing for her after all the rules I had had to erase from the contract. Unexpectedly, she asked me to let her wash my hair in return. I said yes. What was one more first after having shared a bed with her? After fucking her in the bathroom with no agreement signed between us? After designing a whole new contract for her?

Once my hair was clean, I washed her back, and luckily she didn't ask to reciprocate. The rest of the shower was quick, giving each other as much space as possible to clean up comfortably. It was hard not to grab her again and fuck her senseless, but we didn't really have the time. I'd have to wait until that night.

We climbed out of the shower, and while she blow-dried her hair, I got dressed. I stepped out of the bedroom and noticed breakfast had already been served on the table.

I grabbed the bags with Anastasia's new clothes and carried them to the bedroom. I laid everything out on top of the bed, placed the flip-flops on the floor and put away her clothes from the night before in one of the bags. Her sexy red panties I did keep for myself, a little memento from our un-contractual sexcapade, and an unusual punishment for her, for getting drunk and plastered.

Back in the dining area, I brought my laptop to the table and turned it on, ready to check the news and my emails.

After a few minutes, Anastasia stepped out of the bedroom, suddenly looking shy. "Hi," she squeaked, blushing delicately. Not an hour ago she had asked me to fuck her without embarrassment, like a sexy nymph, but now that she was dressed in a demure white dress, she had become a kitten once again.

"Hello again, Miss Steele," I smirked, amused by her shyness. "You blush at the drop of the hat when you're not naked, don't you?" She flushed even more and I chuckled. "You are one strange being." And was I having fun trying to figure her out.

"So are you," she answered as she sat down in front of me. She did have a point. Maybe I was as hard of a mystery to solve for her as she was for me? After all, I purposefully held all of my cards close to my chest, used to keeping my business to myself and sharing as little as possible about my true self. But unlike her, I was fucked up. My mind was dark and scary. No place for a lady, be she a kitty or a tiger. Or a Goddess.

"This is my favourite!" Anastasia exclaimed happily after noticing the tea bag, distracting me from my gloomy thoughts.

"I know," I replayed. She had mentioned it on passing some weeks ago in the playroom, during aftercare, and I had taken notice of it. Attention to detail was important to me, and even back then I had already been hoping she'd spend her weekends with me. Thus, I had been ready to have Gail buy a box of her favourite tea so she could drink it at Escala every Sunday morning, right by my side.

"Thanks for the tea," she muttered as she poured water into her cup, "and for the clothes."

"My pleasure. You look beautiful." And she did. She should have looked hungover and worse for wear, but she looked well rested and satisfied, if still a bit shy.

She didn't add anything else and we ate breakfast in silence as I sent a few short emails. I much preferred to have breakfast in silence and she didn't seem perturbed by it. It was pleasant and comfortable. In this sense, as well as several others, we seemed the perfect match.

Maybe she wasn't my usual definition of perfect Submissive, but I was starting to think she was my perfect girl. And it scared me. Suddenly, I realized that night and the following day would make us or break us. Could we survive the first twenty-four hours of a new contract—new for the both of us—unscathed? Now that she was back in my life, would she stay for several months or would I lose her due to the incompatibility she insisted we suffered from?

"Why did you bring me here last night?" She asked suddenly, once again pulling me away from pessimist thoughts. Oh, how Flynn would approve of her! "I don't mind one bit, obviously, but I need a story for Kate," she added.

"I'm not going to lie and say morning sex didn't cross my mind," I joked. The night before, I had actually decided we wouldn't be having sex before she had signed the new contract, but the nymph had seduced me in the bathroom. "But at the time I just wanted to get you in a nice bed before you threw up on the leather upholstery of my car, and my hotel room here in Portland was way closer than your apartment all the way to Vancouver."

"Why did you go after me last night?"

"I was worried about you." What kind of question was that? As if I'd leave her drunk ass alone to fend for herself. "You were drunk. I wanted to make sure you were fine. Drunk people tend to make stupid decisions."

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"What for?" I inquired. For getting drunk? Or for calling me, revealing to her ex/future Dom she had been stupid and irresponsible?

"For worrying you. For getting drunk even though I promised not to. Honestly, I'm not a big fan of drinking," she clarified, gesturing with her hands. "This is the second time I've been drunk in my life. If I had known what that second shot was going to cause, I wouldn't have drunk it. I'm kind of sorry for calling, too." Kind of? "I'm sorry I passed out on you last night." She scrunched her nose adorably for a second, and then her eyes lighted up with mischief. "I'm not sorry I walked into you in the bathroom this morning," she smiled cheekily and unrepentant, cheeks slightly pink.

"I assume that's the reason you are only kind of sorry for calling me last night." She was something else.

"Yes, Sir," she answered with a sweet smile, eyes dancing and naughty. She bit her lip as her eyes turned even more provocative.

How I wanted to bite that lip. Again, and again, and again.

But not right then.

That night.

I could keep it in my pants for a few more hours. I was a self-controlled Dominant and businessman.

Still, I was only human, and a red-blooded man at that. As if I were Icarus and she was the sun, I walked around the table and towards her.

"Stop biting your lip," I ordered as I reached out with my right hand to free her lower lip from her teeth.

"Why?" she asked with the same curiosity that had trapped me the first time we met.

"Because I'd like to bite that lip, Kitty," I whispered huskily.

"Then do," she answered back.

I wasn't one to turn down a challenge, so I bent down to bite her lip. She moaned provocatively and I let go of her lip. I had promised myself I'd hold back my sexual instincts for a few more hours, so I would.

"Enough of that. I need to drive you to your apartment. I'll pick you up tonight at eight?"

She nodded in agreement but didn't answer out loud like she should've. I lifted an eyebrow, reminding her I expected more. I was her Dom, not her friend, no matter how many rules I had rescinded for her. I had been willing to give up many things, but utmost respect wasn't one of them.

"Yes," she spoke out loud right away, still looking at me with bedroom eyes.

We made it to my car fully clothed, albeit not without having made out in the elevator first. Who could blame us, when we were so hot for each other and in such a small and private(ish) place?

Much like breakfast, the beginning of our trip to her apartment was spent in comfortable silence, this time listening to classical music. It was nice, how the lack of talking wasn't accompanied by a tense companion; how her silence wasn't consequence of a person feeling intimidated by me—or even a Sub wishing to chit-chat, but knowing she's disallowed to start such inconsequential conversations by herself—but rather because she could enjoy and appreciate the comfort of silence, much like myself.

Sadly, our peace was interrupted by my cell-phone ringing.

I answered my hands-free phone, barking "Grey," in annoyance.

"Hey, bro! D'you get laid?" The fucker couldn't have waited a few more minutes, could he? And must he be so crass?

"Elliot. You're on speakerphone."

"Ups. Who are you with?"

"Guess," I hissed. Way to ruin my last few minutes of peace with Anastasia. God knew what that night would bring us.

"Hey, Ana!" he exclaimed cheerfully. From the corner of my eye, I was pleased to notice that Anastasia looked at the phone warily. I was used to people liking my brother better than me, not that it had ever bothered me—I mean, who could blame them? —yet I was strangely happy it didn't seem to be the case with Anastasia.

"Hi, Elliot," she answered timidly.

"D'you get laid?"

"Did you?" my tiger honest to goodness asked back, barely blushing. There was a slight smirk in her lips; one that I apparently loved when it wasn't directed at me for a change. "Or did you have such a bad night that you need to live vicariously through your brother?"

Elliot sputtered, "What? I... You..."

Anastasia and I laughed at him.

I had found a keeper.

"I'm driving Anastasia home. Shall I pick you up?"

"Please," he muttered. I'd bet he was pouting.

"See you shortly, Lelliot," I gave the last blow before finishing the call.

"What was all that about?" Anastasia asked me with a small, curious frown.

"Elliot, as well as the rest of my family, thinks I'm a sexually repressed celibate," I explained. After hearing that cutting conversation, I didn't think she'd overshare with Elliot about us, but I thought it'd be better to warn her what the official story was.

"Oh. So does Kate. I mean, she thinks I'm celibate," she rambled, pointing at herself with both hands. Adorable. "She's begging the God of Sex I'll lose my V-card tonight." I chuckled. That ship had sailed away a while ago, and had found its way to unusual, kinky waters. "If only she knew."

"Indeed. What are you going to tell her tomorrow?" What would be her official story?

"Either that you're a God in bed and you made me come the very first time we had sex" —flattery will get you everywhere, Miss Steele— "or that you're a God in bed and that I should know, seeing as how I lost my virginity a few years ago. Sorry for the lies. Love you, Katie!" she exclaimed with fake happiness, wincing. I noticed how she gestured with her hands towards the end, as she got nervous.

"As long as you tell her I'm a God in bed..." I teased, successfully making her laugh. What a lovely laugh. I needed to hear it more often.

Soon after that, we arrived at Anastasia's apartment complex. As usual, it was raining, so Anastasia made a run for it towards the door. I followed her with long strides. Luckily, I was right by her side, as my clumsy Kitty managed to trip on the wet, treacherous floor. Already used to her lack of coordination, I reached out instinctually to catch her. I held her close to my body, least she threw us both to the floor. Our chests were pressed together, our warm breaths intertwining. Her ocean blue eyes caught mine, hypnotizing, before they found their way to my lips.

She was so tempting.

She bit her lip with desire, and naturally my need to bite it came back in full force. One more kiss couldn't hurt.

I reached down to kiss her, but before our lips could touch we got interrupted by Miss Kavanagh. When the blonde opened the apartment's front door, Anastasia took a step back and looked towards the noise, blushing.

"I'm sorry!" Katherine exclaimed with a wince, clearly repentant. It sent Anastasia back into action, making her run inside the apartment and away from the pouring rain. I followed my blushing tiger quickly.

Elliot was inside, smile wide and eyes excited and impatient. He looked at Anastasia as if she were Santa Clause and had brought along a red bag full of gifts.

Katherine smiled at my brother and exclaimed, "Here they are!"

"Hi, Ana!" the asshat greeted her with mischief emanating from his pores. Much to my chagrin, Anastasia gave her back an honest smile.

Would she also come to prefer him over me? Was she better off with someone more carefree, like him? Probably. I hated this feeling of inadequacy that I only got around her. Of course it was worth it, as the good Anastasia brought into my life much outweighed the bad; still, I didn't like it.

All of these harmful thoughts seemed to abandon my body the moment I noticed Anastasia looking at me with adoration. I wondered what was going on inside her head, but if she was also comparing the two Grey men, then clearly I had come out winning.

Can't beat multiple orgasms with a charming smile and easy disposition.

"Hello, Elliot," answered back Anastasia, looking at my brother once again. "Christian, this is Kate. Kate, Christian," she introduced me to her roommate then, gesturing at each of us in turn.

We shook hands firmly, like only two self-entitled assholes could. We were both trust fund kids, but I had already proved my superiority by becoming the wealthiest man under thirty in Washington. She had much to prove yet, although being a college valedictorian already had her on a good track.

"Elliot, we'd better go. I have a videoconference with Japan," I lied as soon as I had finished greeting Miss Kavanagh. Sue me. At least I didn't straight out say I didn't want to be there anymore. I was done with being in the presence of Katherine Kavanagh. I wasn't her roommate's new boyfriend, but her Dom. Those had been enough pleasantries for a year.

"Sure," agreed Elliot, not calling me out on my lie. Bros before hoes and all that bullshit.

He turned to look at Katherine and pulled her into his arms to give her a panty-dropping kiss. He had begged me to fly him to Seattle early so that he could escape some chit obsessed with his dick, and here he was charming yet another pussy. "Laters, baby," he spoke, smiling charmingly at his conquest. She melted at his feet, looking disgustingly smitten. Still, a part of me couldn't help but be amused at my brother's antics.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Anastasia turning to look at me. She snickered, provoking some hidden playful part of me to continue the game. I could be as funny as Elliot. I'd give Anastasia no reason to prefer him.

Thus, I turned to look at her and stole a short kiss while Elliot was too distracted to notice us. "Laters, baby," I whispered in her ear, and she laughed out loud. I felt on cloud nine. "Don't forget to bring an overnight bag," I joked with a wink.

Elliot and I made our way to the car silently. I walked around the vehicle and climbed into the driver's seat to find my brother already reclined on his own seat, looking exhausted.

"Man, I need some sleep," he said. "That woman is voracious." Not something I needed to know about Miss Kavanagh.

"Really…" I answered with sarcasm, thinking of my own sex marathons.

Not for the first time, I wondered how Elliot—the big baby—would fare against Mistress Tanya.

"How about you, hotshot? Did you get laid?" he asked, barely moving his head, which was still resting against his seat, so he could look at me.

I gave him a sideways 'fuck off' glare.

Elliot laughed, and knowing it'd be pointless, he didn't pester me for more information. Instead, he just said, "You are one upright son of a bitch." Ha. If only he knew.

He grabbed his cap from the glove and put in on askew so that his eyes were covered. He settled even lower on his seat, ready to take a nap.

I turned up the volume of the radio.

Sleep through that, Lelliot!

And the asshole did. I envied his ease with women, his ability to fall asleep anywhere… and the fact that he wasn't a son of a bitch.

Once back in the hotel, Elliot went to his room to take a nap while I got to work. With Ana staying the night, I needed to get as much as possible done beforehand.

After a couple of hours, a much more energised Elliot showed up, ready to go for a hike. We spent several hours in the forest, alone with nature and Elliot's chatter. He didn't need me to participate too much in conversation as he talked about the crazy chick obsessed with his dick, the party he'd gone to with Ros and Gwen the weekend before, and his newest green project. To the last subject I did pay more attention, although most of my answers weren't more than a grunt.

Half of my mind was occupied thinking about Anastasia. What I wanted to do to her. My enthusiasm in her signing the new contract. My anxiety about making her first experience in my own playroom perfect, so that she would never regret agreeing to remain my Sub. The hours that followed would be decisive, and I felt an unpleasant and unusual knot in my stomach.

On the outside I looked perfectly calm as I spent the day with Elliot. I allowed myself to lose my shit for a few minutes in the hotel's shower as I ran my hands through my hair obsessively, but I looked perfectly calm and at ease when I said goodbye to Elliot that night, agreeing to meet him again on Thursday for our flight back to Seattle. He, of course, had no idea I'd be flying Anastasia to Seattle and back.

Or so I thought.

It turned out he spent the night with Katherine, who had no qualms in telling him where Anastasia would be spending the night.