Chapter 4: A weekend of firsts
AKA: What happens in Escala…
Sometimes when things are falling apart
They might actually be falling
Into place
The hours that followed turned my life upside down.
It's hard to choose the most life changing event—fucking Anastasia in my bed, sleeping with her, having her sign the contact specially designed for her, taking her for the first time to my playroom, having my mother meet her—so I'd rather expose the evens in chronological order.
Saturday night, I drove myself to Anastasia's apartment. I wanted to spend as much alone time with her as possible, without Reynolds intruding. He'd be picking up the car later at the helipad with a spare key, after a well-deserved break. The following day, after I flew Anastasia back from Seattle, he would collect us from the helipad and drive us to her apartment.
It was still light out when I arrived at Anastasia's home. I climbed out of the car and strutted to her door. I'm getting laid tonight.
I rang the bell and waited impatiently several seconds for her to open the door. When she did, I was surprised to find her wearing a tightly closed black coat and, to the eye, nothing else. No dress or skirt was peeking from underneath the coat, and she was wearing no stockings. I was left intrigued and desperate for answers. Was the blushing Goddess I barely knew capable of walking out of her apartment in nothing but heels and a coat? Was Anastasia Steele, full-time tiger and part-time kitty, daring enough?
I looked at her face, searching for a clue, but found none there. I didn't catch her giving me the teasing look I would have expected; instead, she was too busy ogling at my own body and biting her delectable lower lip.
Her eyes found mine and I smirked. I quite enjoyed the look she was giving me.
"Shall we?" I held her left elbow and guided my distracted Kitty to the car. Automatically, I opened the passenger door for her. As she turned to climb into the car, I noticed she was carrying a large bag.
"What's this?" I asked, castigating her with a raised eyebrow.
"My overnight bag, Sir," answered the smart ass. "Just like you requested." For God's sake. I looked at her with a frown, waiting for a reason to not order her to return the bag to the apartment. "Just a change of clothes for tomorrow, so I have something to wear on the way home," she explained, her eyes avoiding my face.
The answer seemed rational, I supposed, as she had a certain act to pull being a Sub who lived with a roommate that didn't know of her sexual preferences. I nodded, although I didn't quite trust she was being completely honest, and allowed her to get in the car.
I hurried around the vehicle and climbed into the driver's side.
"How was the rest of your day?" I asked her as I drove out of the parking spot.
"I had to face the Kavanagh Inquisition. She wanted to know what happened last night, this morning, yadda, yadda, yadda. At least I didn't have to lie much."
"Why? What did you tell her?"
"That my highlight of this morning was getting a delectable breakfast. It's not every day a girl gets to eat something from a place as prestigious as the Heathman," she answered with a playful smile that reached her eyes.
"I'm glad you liked it."
"I did. My pancakes are better, though," she informed me with pride.
"Are they?" I teased her.
"Do you have chocolate and strawberries at your home?" I sure as hell hoped so, but Gail, my housekeeper, would be the only one to know.
"Maybe," I answered with doubt. I caught her rolling her eyes at me, and my hand twitched.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, Anastasia" I scolded her, my tone of voice automatically becoming domineering. "It's disrespectful. Consider it a rule for our weekends."
"Sorry, Sir," she whispered, castigated.
She didn't speak for a full minute and neither did I, regretting the abrupt end I had brought to the conversation. I enjoyed talking with Anastasia.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asked eventually, suddenly excited.
I was relieved I hadn't screwed up too badly and forced her to hide inside a shell—yet another thing to worry about; I wondered when it'd be too much and she'd become wary of being herself around me, deservingly robbing me from her conversations—yet wary of whatever she wanted to ask me that made her sound so excited. I didn't like revealing things about myself, least people found out just how fucked up I was.
"All right," I answered, apprehensive.
"Well, after the interview, when I found out you were my Dom, I googled you," she began, enthusiastically. I could hardly believe she was admitting so freely to her snooping. "What?" She asked after I looked at her with disbelief. "I bet you searched me out too, once you found out my name."
"Of course I did," I answered. Still, I hadn't confessed it unprompted, nor just casually started a conversation about it. "My resources are way vaster than Google, too. I had my security advisor do a background check on you."
"See? Anyway," she continued, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "I read that you completed college in two years. I was wondering about that. Why would you want to squash four years of demanding schoolwork into two?"
Now that was an interesting question; much more so than the ones she had asked in the interview. Of course, it was something much more private, and not something I would have freely spoken about in front of a recorder. But here, with just her and I in the car, I had no reason to measure my words or give her half-answers.
"After a semester of college, I was bored out of my mind. I'm not the most patient man," I explained, not beating around the bush, and she nodded in agreement. I glared at her sideways. She didn't need to concur so easily. "I'm not the kind of guy that could be an employee. I had trouble following my professor's orders, especially seeing as how I felt like I knew more than them." It had probably been annoying and egocentric of me, but in all honesty, I was a fast and independent learner, and first-year classes had bored me out of my mind.
"That winter holiday, when I came home, I kept complaining about how much I hated school and hinted that I didn't want to go back because I already knew all I needed to as to open my own business. I just needed the money." It hadn't sat well with my parents. I had finally gotten my life together; I was in an ivy League school, with the promise of a great and stable future, and to them it looked as if I was ready to throw it all away because I was too socially inept to just sit down in class with my peers and enjoy what should be the most fun years of my life.
"When my parents realised I was seriously considering dropping out, they had a discussion with my maternal grandparents.
"On Christmas Eve, my father invited me to his office, where he and my grandfather proposed to me a deal: if I finished school, then they would give me the money I needed to start my own enterprise. I agreed while the iron was still hot." It had been an amazing chance; I was thankful both at the opportunity and their faith in me. The loan of money, with no established timeframe in which I was to give it back and no interest, had been a small price to pay in exchange for staying in school. Of course, I had paid them back as soon as possible, and while they had accepted no interest, I always made sure to be generous with my Christmas and birthday gifts.
"Afterwards, my brother joked that if I was as smart as I claimed to be, why didn't I finish school in two years instead of four? I thought it was a great idea and went for it," I concluded the story as I parked the car in front of the building with the helipad. I reflect on how nicely it had all turned out. My parents had been happy I finished school, and I only had to go through two years of that shit in exchange for the money to build GEH.
I turned to look at Anastasia. She was silently looking at me in disbelief and amazement. She made my heart flutter. I wasn't used to anyone looking at me quite like that. Sure, I often said things that surprised and amazed everyone in the room, but there was something else… something extra... in the way she was looking at me.
"That's... wow. Most people struggle to finish school in four years and you..." I shrugged my shoulders. It hadn't been such a great deal. "You are a strange man, Christian Grey. And a great one, too," she stated with conviction, as if there was no room for discussion. I didn't believe her to be right, but I couldn't quite bring myself to think she could possibly be wrong—not when she sounded so absolutely sure of her statement.
With nothing left to say, I climbed out of the car. I walked around it, but Anastasia had beaten me to her door and was already getting out of the car, bag in hand.
"Where are we?" she asked, looking up at the two storeys building with the helipad on top.
"It's a surprise," I answered, hoping she'd like the flight.
As I spoke, I reached for her bag so I could carry it for her. It felt too heavy for it to only have a change of clothes, but God knew my mother's handbag weighed a ton, which led me to believe maybe Anastasia had other things she considered necessary—or maybe she had other things she wasn't supposed to have brought.
Without thinking, as if it were a new instinct I had suddenly developed over the last couple of minutes, I reached with my free hand for hers, warm and delicate between my fingers.
We walked into the building and stepped inside the elevator silently. The instant the metallic doors closed in front of us, the air between us became electric, charged with sexual tension. I was fascinated and enticed by the carnal connection between us. Never before had I felt so much desire for another woman, and I loved it.
Several short seconds later, we were on top of the building, the doors opening directly on the roof to reveal Charlie Tango.
"Oh!" Her eyes widened with happiness and excitement. "A chopper!" A chopper? How dare she?
"Helicopter," I corrected her with a frown. Why did people insist on calling Charlie Tango that? Elliot, Ros… I huffed silently.
Anastasia, as euphoric as a child, hurried towards my helicopter, and because I still held her hand in mine, she dragged me along.
Joe, the old man who ran the helipad, stepped out of his office to let me know Charlie Tango was ready to fly, and to hand me the flight plan.
Ready to be alone with Anastasia again, I directed her inside Charlie Tango and instructed her not to touch anything as I climbed in behind her. Her eyes were still full of childish excitement, as well as absolute trust for me, for which I'd work hard to deserve. Once again I felt a flutter of nerves, stressing about the outcome of our first weekend together in my apartment, but I forced myself to focus on the now. Luckily for me, tying up beautiful women was a coping mechanism for me, and I had to strap down Anastasia to her seat with the four-point harness.
"I like you tied up, Kitty," I commented as I looked down at my handwork.
"I know. So do I," she answered breathless. How was it possible for a man to desire a woman as much as I did Anastasia Steele? She looked down at her strapped down body and frowned slightly. "I'm wearing way too many clothes for it to be fun, though."
"So you are hiding something under that coat," I probed.
She gasped softly, with exaggerated outrage and sparking eyes. "Of course I am. What kind of girl do you take me for?"
A kinky one, that's for sure.
I tried not to ruin the game by laughing and reached for the first button of her black coat, wanting to take a peek at what she was hiding underneath. Before I could, though, Anastasia smacked my hand away and gave me an unbelieving look.
"What are you hiding under there?" Was she only wearing sexy lingerie?
"A surprise, Sir," she answered sweetly, as if she weren't a siren hiding a sexy secret. "You may unwrap it when we arrive at your apartment." How could she be so suave when she was the one strapped down to her seat and I was her fucking Dominant?
"What is it with you and topping from the bottom?" I muttered, more annoyed at her ability to do it than the fact that she had done it.
I buckled up, got the both of us headphones with attached small microphones, and did the pre-flight checks with air control. Once Charlie Tango was cleared for take-off, we rose to the air.
"This is amazing!" Anastasia exclaimed as she looked outside, her face as close as possible to the window. "Do you do this often? Bring girls up here and woo them into signing your contracts?"
"I've never brought another girl up here, Anastasia," I answered before mumbling to myself, "It's another first for me." How many first had I gone through with Anastasia? How much had I relinquished while compromising with her, and how many amazing experiences had I gained thanks to her? How much more—I wondered for the first time—would I be willing to cede in the future for the sake of keeping her at my side, and how many new joys would she bring to my life? Startled, I realized this maddening woman—this shy Goddess—was a friend to me.
I didn't do friends. Especially not with my Submissives.
Good God, just that morning, when desperate to escape Katherine, I had thought to myself how Anastasia and I weren't friends, but it would seem it had been a lie. The truth was that even if half the time I felt I didn't know her, I loved spending time with Anastasia.
"Another first?" she inquired. I hadn't realised she had been able to overhear me. I felt my eyes widen without my permission before I forced my face to become impassive.
"I've never been with a Submissive at the club more than a night," I began to explain. "I've never taken one out for dinner. I've never changed so many rules of my contract before. I had never slept with a girl prior last night."
"I've never agreed to so many rules before and I had never slept with a guy, either."
How interesting. I had already been fucked up by the time I lost my virginity and I had never had a normal romantic relationship, so I had naturally never shared my bed with anyone; but Anastasia seemed… normal, and I could think of no reason why she wouldn't have stayed in bed with her boyfriend—or even one-night-stand—after having had sex, just like Elliot or Miss Kavanagh would.
"When did you lose your virginity?" I wondered out loud. Elena would never have allowed me to stay in bed with her, but why wouldn't have Anastasia slept with her first sexual partner?
She looked at me wide-eyed, clearly surprised by the intimate question. She was silent for a few seconds before answering.
"On my senior year's prom night. I know; I'm yet another prom night statistic. It was... weird and uncomfortable. It didn't last long, either. I never dated after that," she shared, the last sentence said with surprise, as if she had just realized it. I was shocked myself. She was sweet and beautiful and—unlike what I used to think—not a natural submissive. Why hadn't she led a regular romantic life before realising she needed something more in bed?
"I had a... friend with benefits on freshman year before I met Kate. Then, I had Doms," she finished.
"No boyfriends?" I asked, sounding merely curious but actually desperate for the answer. Suddenly, it felt like this was the missing piece, and that the answer to this question would finally help me understand who the hell was Anastasia Rose Steele.
"Can you keep a secret?" she stage-whispered. "I may be a sucker for love novels, but I am as cynical as they come. I think everlasting love is something of fairy tales. I'm not sure I believe in romance, either, but the judge is still out on that one."
That was… interesting. Not the missing piece of the puzzle I had been looking for, but something to work with.
I recalled from Welch's background check that Anastasia had lost her birth father when she was a day old, and that her mother had divorced her adoptive father, Mr Steele, when she was very young, followed by a long string of more divorces. Anastasia wasn't even closed to being fucked up like me, but she hadn't had a perfect childhood and, unlike me, she hadn't spent most of it in a stable home with parents that loved each other deeply. It seemed she hadn't grown up with the image of what a healthy relationship looked like, and her romantic books and movies had only reinforced the concept that love stories didn't happen in real life.
After having grown up with my adoptive parents I couldn't possibly agree with her, but I did share the feeling of knowing one would never find love. Well, I knew I and my fifty shades of grey would never find love, but I had no reason to believe Anastasia wouldn't. She just needed someone very kinky.
And I suddenly realised that maybe I did have the missing piece and I had just chosen to ignore it, because in that moment I remembered something Anastasia had said during dinner, when we had been discussing the contract: she liked being dominated in bed simply because she was kinky, and she had no desire to be submissive the rest of the time. Maybe that was the only and simple truth.
The weekend would tell.
But if that was true, what would happen to us? Would our new unexpected friendship be enough to keep us together, or would her inability and indisposition to submit prove to be insufficient for me? Would I need to look for a new submissive, or would our odd contractual relationship survive based on my interest in Anastasia? This interest that went beyond the carnal and had this… intellectual factor to it.
I was surprised with myself by not knowing the answer. A few weeks ago I would have said the tiger that was Anastasia Steele wouldn't keep me content, yet I wasn't so sure anymore. Had I evolved? Changed? Or was it simply that I had never given someone like Anastasia a chance before?
As I reflected on my potential change of heart, the sun grew closer to the horizon. It was Anastasia's exclamations of fascination that made me realize the sun was setting, turning the sky into different shades of orange. I twisted to look at Anastasia every few seconds, fascinated by her love for the view. Her face was turned away from me as she contemplated the sunset, but I could see in her profile how enchanted she was. It was heart-warming to observe how she shared with me a love for flying. The view from up in the sky was incredibly beautiful, yet somehow the fascinating Goddess sitting at my side was an even better view. For a brief terrifying instant I couldn't imagine my life without Anastasia Steele in it, and I knew I'd do anything in my power to not screw up what we had. That stood not only for that weekend, but also the future. Soon Anastasia would be moving to Seattle and starting a new life there, and I had to make an effort to fit into it.
Only after the sky had grown dark did Anastasia talk. "Are we there yet?" she asked.
"Almost. We'll arrive in fifteen minutes or so," I answered, and still thinking about her new life in Seattle, I continued: "I have another question for you." She flinched, probably because my last question had been about her loss of virginity, and I chuckled. "Nothing like that. I was just wondering what you plan on doing here in Seattle. Workwise, I mean."
"Oh. I want to work on publishing. I have three interviews the Monday after the next for editor assistant positions."
"Where?"
She bit her lip, this time not with desire but with worry, and stared at me as if looking for something before asking, "Do you promise not to interfere if I tell you?"
I frowned. I wouldn't overstep like that. "Of course I won't interfere. Against popular belief, I'm not a God," I joked.
"People think you're a God because you're hot, not because they suspect you to be omnipotent and omnipresent." Somehow, it was a compliment that sounded like an insult.
"Just tell me which publishing houses."
She hesitated for a couple of seconds before answering: "Little, Brown, The Writer's Coffee Shop, and Seattle Independent Publishing."
"I've heard of them." The first was the largest and most popular of them, the second was smaller but also international, and the third focused on publishing local writers. The CEO in me briefly wondered how the latter was doing economically, and whether I could gain something from buying it and expanding GEH into publishing, but I had just promised Anastasia I wouldn't overstep like that.
I spotted the cluster of light that was Seattle and pointed at it to Anastasia. She appreciated the view as I got in contact with air traffic control and got the approval to fly into Seattle territory.
In no time at all, we were flying over the city. I happily pointed for her every tall building I could spot, like Smith Centre, Columbia Centre and the Space Needle. Among them was Escala, easy to spot as the building's name was painted on top.
My anxiety grew as we got closer to our destination, and while I kept a cool-headed demeanour, Anastasia started fidgeting. The same sexual tension from the elevator ride started to grow between us. I was both horny and nervous, and I hadn't felt like that since college.
I tried to focus only on Charlie Tango as I landed on the building's helipad. Once we were safely on the top of the building, I removed my headphones and then Anastasia's. Next, I unfastened my seatbelt and then hers, focusing my mind only on the task at hand. Yet too soon we were both ready to climb out of the helicopter, and so the show had to begin.
"Let's go," I said as I opened the door. I could listen to the nervousness in my voice and I wondered if Anastasia could, too. I hoped not. The Dom is supposed to be sure of himself and his actions, yet it seemed I'd second-guess every decision from the moment we stepped into my apartment.
I climbed out of my helicopter, but not before having grabbed Anastasia's bag. I'd be confiscating it until it was time to leave Seattle. I helped my Kitty out of Charlie Tango and into the windy roof. Anastasia seemed small enough to fly away with the unforgiving wind, so I warped a steady arm around her and hurried us towards the elevator's shaft. I tapped my security code into the keyboard and the doors opened almost instantly. Once inside the elevator, a different code allowed us to descend two floors, to my penthouse's foyer.
As we walked into the apartment and Anastasia looked around the place, I wondered how my home looked from her eyes. It wasn't particularly warm and inviting, but modern and elegant, as well as comfortable, and I quite liked it. Sometimes, the white, grey and black of the open space that shared the living room, dining room and kitchen grew too monotonous, but I did spend most of my time in my office—either the one at home or at GEH—than there.
"Wow, this is beautiful," she declared with a whisper. She was clearly being honest and not just polite.
"Speaking of beautiful, would you allow me to get that coat off of you so I can see what you are hiding underneath?" I asked as I placed her bag on the floor. Hadn't I waited long enough? Plus, her black coat looked rather out of place indoors. She blushed, shyness transparent in her expression as she bent her face slightly towards the floor.
Such a complicated being, kinky yet bashful; both a Goddess and a self-conscious woman.
She didn't say no, so I reached out to untie the belt of her coat. One by one, from top to bottom, I undid the buttons. The first one only revealed pale skin, like the one of a marble statue, and my eyes widened at the revealing neckline of whatever she may be wearing underneath. I wanted to rip off her coat and take her right there, on the couch, but I told myself to be patient. Another button showed a fucking lot of cleavage, her black sinful dress being dangerously low. I could see roughly a third of each of her turgid pale breasts. I smirked, thinking about how perfectly kinky she was; how she had topped me from the bottom, making me wait for this—just like I'd made her wait for orgasms in the past—and how little I cared about having been played when I had such a present before my eyes.
I felt like a lucky bastard. To think she had almost walked out of my life for good!
Sill teasing myself, I undid the other two buttons slowly and sensually. Then, I drew apart the two halves of her coat and slowly slid it down her arms. I threw the jacket aside, on the direction of the couch, my eyes busy as they took on Anastasia's tight revealing dress. She looked good enough to eat. Her breast looked perfect, her legs, long, and her hips and waist, inviting. She was perfect.
I managed to look up from her cleavage to find her eyes turned away from me and her teeth chewing on her poor lip.
"Look at me, Kitty," I whispered. Yet another first. Never had I asked a Sub to look at me. My voice sounded just as intense and commanding as it did in the playroom, and she automatically obeyed. She could submit and turn off her brain, automatically complying to my command, so long as she was turned on first. It didn't surprise me.
With her eyes on me, her pupils dilated with desire, I looked at her body one more time. I brushed my fingers against her wrists and then slid my hands up her arms, shoulders and neck, all the way to her cheeks. Her breathing accelerated. Needing more, I grabbed her face carefully, adoringly, and bent down to kiss her, first slowly, and then with more heat and intensity. Just as I was debating towards which comfortable surface I should carry her, were I to pick her up right then, my cell phone rang. I grabbed it from my pocket and glanced at the caller. It wasn't Ros or my security personnel, so I hung up and turned off the phone. If it was imperative, they'd call Ros.
The moment had been ruined and some of my blood returned to my head.
I needed to do things properly. Dinner first.
I gently grabbed her elbow and guided her towards the kitchen. I placed my cell phone on the island, remembering so far Anastasia and I had communicated through a burner phone. Now that she knew who I was and our contractual relationship would be more intense and extensive, it made no sense to continue with it.
"I have to remember to give you my real number and to get yours," I muttered. "Wine?" I offered her as I pulled a seat for her.
"Please," she agreed.
I poured white wine for the both of us and after she'd had a slip, I realized she may not be hungry yet. My own stomach felt uneasy, and I didn't like it one bit. I was usually more self-composed.
"Would you like a tour or dinner first?" I asked her.
"Something tells me if we start with the tour, we'll never get to dinner," she answered with a smirk. She did have a point. I was still horny, and I could tell so was she, thus the minute I showed her the playroom, or any other comfortable surface to be honest, we'd get distracted with each other and not come out for air for hours. It had been way too long ever since I'd dominated her, and every cell of my body was craving it. Her sinfully tight and revealing dress wasn't helping with my situation.
"Good point well made, Miss Steele. But I'm confiscating this first," I informed her with a teasing smile as I picked up her bag from where I had left it. "You won't need it until tomorrow afternoon, anyway."
After I had started to walk away, I decided to peek back at her. She wasn't looking at me but around the kitchen, gifting me with the jaw-dropping image of her nearly naked back, her dress only having a few black stripes criss-crossed and teasingly leaving little to the imagination.
I took Anastasia's bag to my bedroom, the one place she wasn't allowed to go to. There, I took off my tie and undid the first two buttons of my shirt as I walked to the bathroom. I relieved myself quickly before returning to the kitchen.
The moment Anastasia noticed the silver of chest I had revealed, her eyes focused on it. She ogled me shamelessly, looking me over from my neck to my feet. Desire was clear in her dark eyes and her poor lip.
"Stop biting your lip, Kitty," I ordered. God, how I wanted to taste it myself. "Or we'll never eat," I added playfully when I noticed she had complied instantly. I didn't want to come off as an ogre.
I walked towards the fridge, where I looked for the dinner Gail had left for us: a plate with different kinds of cheeses, hams and salami, as well as green and red grapes, plus a loaf of homemade bread.
Gail made the best bread in the world.
I placed the food on the kitchen island and took the seat next to Anastasia.
"Eat Anastasia; you'll need your strength," I promised lasciviously. We'd be burning a lot of calories during the next several hours.
She immediately reached for the food.
"Good girl."
She smiled and kept eating.
Maybe the tiger was too hungry to show itself behind the kitty. It was the only explanation I could find for her complacency. Or maybe the tiger was too horny; that'd make sense too.
She moaned after taking a bite of the bread. As she exclaimed, "This bread is amazing," I subtly adjusted my pants. I was about to explode. Why had I suggested dinner? I tried to distract myself by chit-chatting.
"My housekeeper, Mrs Jones, baked it."
"Well, she's amazing," she spoke as she grabbed a second piece of cheese, different from the one she had chosen before.
"I'll be sure to pass along the message."
Yes, talking was good. "Where are you moving to here in Seattle?" I inquired, encouraging the conversation.
"Pike Market District. I can't remember the address," she added with a frown.
Pike Market District! We'd practically be neighbours. Maybe I wouldn't have to wait all of five days between our sessions, if she'd be living so close!
"That's all right. Not far from here. Do you have everything figured out for the move?"
"Almost," she answered, eyes focused on the plate of food. "We'll be moving next Friday. It would seem Elliot doesn't have to work, so Kate will try to seduce him into helping us with the heavy stuff." I chuckled. Elliot could probably be seduced into anything. "Do you reckon he knows how to install a TV?" she asked as she picked a piece of cheese different from the ones she had tried.
"I'm sure he does. My sister Mia will be arriving from Paris next Friday morning. I already promised I'll pick her up at the airport." I scowled, releasing I wouldn't be able to spend as much time with Anastasia as I'd like the following weekend. "I have a compulsory welcome back dinner on Friday night at my parents' home. I won't be able to see you until Saturday morning."
"At what time would you like me to come here?"
"Sometime after eight. I'll let you know. It depends on when I come back from my run."
"Oh!" she exclaimed unexpectedly with a radiant smile that could cure any illness. "I love running on Saturday mornings. I never can during the week. I'll have to find a nice, safe place where I can run here in Seattle."
Whoever had said we weren't compatible? Anastasia wasn't as correct in that assumption as she'd like to believe. I had to trust we had enough in common to make this work.
Which, come to think of it, had never been something I'd cared about with my former Subs.
"We can run together next weekend," I suggested. More time with Anastasia was always a good thing, even if we wouldn't be naked. Plus, a sweaty Anastasia wearing short or yoga pants sounded delectable. "I'll run towards your apartment and then I'll show you around a bit. We can run straight here, afterwards." Then, with a smirk, I added. "That way, you won't be able to bring a bag, you little, stubborn Kitty."
I could tell she had to work hard to refrain from answering back, as her lips grew a little thinner and her eyes focused intently on the plate. I realized she was scanning the food, and seeing as how she had been determined to try every variety of cheese available, I reached out to grab a piece of blue cheese and offered it to her.
Her nose wrinkled comically in disgust, reminding me she was both playful and more than a few years younger than me. I chuckled at her childish reaction.
"You don't like blue cheese?"
"No. It has mould. It's disgusting."
I had to work hard not to laugh at her.
"It's not."
"It is. I thought you had better taste," she teased me, gesturing at her half-exposed breasts.
"I have a great taste," I answered, looking at those pale turgid breasts. I had found a diamond, and I was perfectly aware of it.
She hummed in agreement. Hot and modest.
"I have so many other things to figure out once Kate and I move here," she continued, out of thin air. "I need to find a nice place where I can get waxed." She muttered with a frown.
Hmmm… soft strong legs. She was a siren. But she also had to pay for that comment.
"I'll take care of that. I know a place; I'll pay for it," I informed her, leaving no place for discussion. It's what I typically did for my Subs, and not something I was willing to give up on; I was fucking rich, and she wasn't. Still, she bit her lip—not as she did when she was turned on, but rather looking as if she was forcing herself to stay silent—and squirmed subtly in her seat. I appreciated she didn't outright refuse me, and I felt the need to convince her it was the right choice. "Don't fight me in this, Anastasia. I'm not asking for much. Humour me."
She agreed reluctantly and silence filled the room. The plate was nearly empty and my stomach was already as full as it'd get that night. All that talk about breasts and legs had me unable to focus on anything but my desire for Anastasia. I was contemplating whether to give her a tour first or take her to my playroom directly—I had even forgotten she had a contract to sign—when Anastasia bit her lip and I completely lost the little self-control I had left.
I reached out to bite that delectable lip and kiss that delicious mouth. As the kiss grew heated, I was surprised to feel Anastasia's fingers in my hair, pulling me closer to her. She was so responsive. I actually appreciated how active she was being; it would seem there were advantages to being with a woman who couldn't be tamed. Her fingers on my scalp made me feel so good I moaned involuntarily, and it only urged her on.
Too lost in the burn I felt for her as too care about the location or the contract—we were after all consenting adults, weren't we? —I picked her up and carried her to my bed. My hands were spread wide under her thighs, my fingers feeling the soft heated skin so close to her promised land. I blindly took her to my own bedroom, barely needing to look at where I was going. The playroom was too far, all the way up the stairs, and I didn't need red walls or cuffs to fuck her brain out.
After what felt like days, we finally reached our destination. I opened the door with my right hand, holding onto Anastasia with the left, before placing her on the floor as soon as we were inside my bedroom.
Never before had I pictured her there, but nonetheless she didn't feel as if she didn't belong.
I pressed her against my body, kneading her delectable ass. Her dress was tight and short and perfect, and I seemed unable to have one rational thought. Having needed to come up for air, my lips had left hers but found the softness of her neck. All of her was delicious and perfect. I loved every inch of her body, and I was ready to show it to her once again. I'd demonstrate her how much I'd missed her and appreciated her, and I'd convince her with my lips, fingers and dick to never leave me again.
I needed to see her, so I took a step back and Anastasia's fingers were forced to leave my hair. I already missed the feeling of them, and for one brief second I wished I could enjoy the sensation of her hands all over my body.
The dress was delectable, but needed to go. I quickly found its lower hem dangerously high on my Kitty's thighs and moved my hands upwards slowly, savouring the moment as I caressed her skin. Meanwhile, my eyes got lost in her hers, the warm Adriatic Sea irises cornered around her dilated pupils full of undisguised lust. An odd connection was formed between us, the moment more intimate than if I had been looking at her newly revealed skin. I could feel her desire and trust for me; I could tell how she needed me as much as I needed her.
There had always been a certain power in forbidding my Subs to look up at my face and into my eyes, while I could watch them whenever and however I pleased, and while I didn't feel that exact power at the moment—as Anastasia was staring straight into my eyes—I felt even better.
I was on top of the world as I witnessed Anastasia's every sensation through her eyes. They were, indeed, the window to her soul. Goddess and nymph, tiger and kitten, they were all present there in the beautiful complex woman that was Anastasia Steele. The moment was all the headier as I could sense the sensual creature underneath the sinful body, as well was the reciprocation of my primal desire for her.
Her transparent yearning for me made me feel like the Master of the Universe. Her absolute trust made me feel strong, like the ultimate protector of the petite angel—even if, rationally, I knew she wasn't fragile and weak at all.
Yet her eyes also made me feel naked, because if my eyes were also the window to my own soul, what if she could see how fucked up I was? What if she could tell I had a dark mind and horrifying secrets? What if she could see all I had done when I'd been positive I was a sadist? And what if Flynn was wrong and I was indeed a sadist, and she found out?
Yet the positive feelings won, those angelic trusting eyes pushing away my fears. Thus, I didn't break the connection as I caressed her ass underneath the dress, and then moved my hands up and to her sides, towards her womanly hips, waist, ribs and, finally, the side of her soft breasts—breasts that weren't covered by a bra, and I could consequently feel against my fingers, which were pressed snugly against her mounds thanks to the tightness of her little black dress.
Her little black dress that needed to go.