by E. L. James
I feel it in my groin.
I want to take her to bed and lose myself in her. After our conversation in the car I just want to be sure she’s mine. When we exit the elevator I offer her a drink, but she declines.
“Good. Let’s go to bed.”
She looks surprised. “You’re going to settle for plain old vanilla?”
“Nothing plain or old about vanilla. It’s a very intriguing flavor.”
“Since when?”
“Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?”
“Oh no. I’ve had enough exotic for one day.”
“Sure? We cater for all tastes here—at least thirty-one flavors.” I give her a lascivious look.
“I’ve noticed.” She raises one fine eyebrow.
“Come on, Miss Steele, you have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll be fucked, and sooner you can sleep.”
“Mr. Grey, you are a born romantic.”
“Miss Steele, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come.”
Yeah. I can think of one way.
Closing the door of my bedroom, I feel lighter than I did in the car. She’s still here. “Hands in the air,” I order, and she does as she’s told. I grip the hem of her dress and in one smooth move pull it up and over her body to reveal the beautiful woman beneath.
“Ta-da!” I’m a magician. Ana giggles and gives me a round of applause. I bow, enjoying the game, before placing her dress on my chair.
“And for your next trick?” she asks, eyes glittering.
“Oh, my dear Miss Steele. Get into my bed, and I’ll show you.”
“Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?” she teases, tilting her head to one side so her hair tumbles over her shoulder.
A new game. This is interesting.
“Well, the door’s closed. Not sure how you’re going to avoid me. I think it’s a done deal.”
“But I’m a good negotiator,” she says, her voice soft but determined.
“So am I.”
Okay, what’s going on here? Is she reluctant? Too tired? What? “Don’t you want to fuck?” I ask, confused.
“No,” she whispers.
“Oh.” Well, that’s disappointing.
She swallows, then says in a small voice, “I want you to make love to me.”
I stare at her, bemused.
What exactly does she mean?
Make love? We do. We have. It’s just another term for fucking.
She studies me, her expression grave. Hell. Is this her idea of more? All the hearts-and-flowers shit, is that what she means? But we’re just talking semantics, surely? This is semantics. “Ana, I—” What does she want from me? “I thought we did.”
“I want to touch you.”
Fuck. No. I step back as the darkness closes around my ribs.
“Please,” she whispers.
No. No. Haven’t I made it clear?
I can’t bear to be touched. I can’t.
Ever.
“Oh no, Miss Steele, you’ve had enough concessions from me this evening. And I’m saying no.”
“No?” she queries.
“No.”
And for a moment I want to send her home, or upstairs—anywhere away from me. Not here.
Don’t touch me.
She’s watching me warily and I think about the fact that she’s leaving tomorrow and I won’t see her for a while. I sigh. I don’t have the energy for this. “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed.”
“So touching is a hard limit for you?”
“Yes. This is old news.” I can’t keep the exasperation out of my voice.
“Please tell me why.”
I don’t want to go there. This is not a conversation I want to have. Ever. “Oh, Anastasia, please. Just drop it for now.”
Her face falls. “It’s important to me,” she says, a hesitant plea in her voice.
“Fuck this,” I mutter to myself. At the chest of drawers I pull out a T-shirt and throw it to her. “Put that on and get into bed.” Why am I even letting her sleep with me? But it’s a rhetorical question: deep down I know the answer. It’s because I sleep better with her.
She’s my dream catcher.
She keeps my nightmares at bay.
She turns away from me and removes her bra, then slips on the T-shirt.
What did I say to her in the playroom this afternoon? She shouldn’t hide her body from me.
“I need the bathroom,” she says.
“Now you’re asking permission?”
“Er…no.”
“Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don’t need my permission to use it.” I unbutton my shirt and slip it off, and she dashes past me out of the bedroom as I try to contain my temper.
What’s gotten into her?
One evening at my parents’ and she’s expecting serenades and sunsets and fucking walks in the rain. That’s not what I’m about. I’ve told her this. I don’t do romance. I sigh heavily as I remove my pants.
But she wants more. She wants all that romantic shit.
Fuck.
In my closet I throw my pants into the laundry basket and pull on my PJ bottoms, and then wander back into my bedroom.
This isn’t going to work, Grey.
But I want it to work.
You should let her go.
No. I can make this work. Somehow.
The radio alarm reads 11:46. Time for bed. I check my phone for any urgent e-mails. There’s nothing. I give the bathroom door a brisk knock.
“Come in,” Ana garbles. She’s brushing her teeth, literally foaming at the mouth—with my toothbrush. She spits into the sink as I stand beside her, and we stare at each other in the mirror. Her eyes are bright with mischief and humor. She rinses off the toothbrush and without a word hands it to me. I put it in my mouth and she looks pleased with herself.
And just like that, all the tension from our previous exchange evaporates.
“Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush,” I say sardonically.
“Thank you, Sir.” She beams, and for a moment I think she’s going to curtsey, but she leaves me to brush my teeth.
When I reenter the bedroom she’s stretched out under the covers. She should be stretched out under me. “You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out.” I sound sullen.
“Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me,” she says, as argumentative as ever.
She’s not going to let this go. I sit down on the bed. “Anastasia, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life—you don’t want that shit in your head. Why would you?”
No one should have this shit in their head!
“Because I want to know you better.”
“You know me well enough.”
“How can you say that?” She sits up and kneels facing me, earnest and eager.
Ana. Ana. Ana. Let it go. For fuck’s sake.
“You’re rolling your eyes,” she says. “Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee.”
“Oh, I’d like to put you there again.” Right now.
Her face brightens. “Tell me, and you can.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re bargaining with me?” My voice betrays my disbelief.
She nods. “Negotiating.”
I frown. “It doesn’t work that way, Anastasia.”
“Okay. Tell me, and I’ll roll my eyes at you.”
I laugh. Now she is being ridiculous, and cute in my T-shirt. Her face shines with longing.
“Always so keen and eager for information,” I marvel. And a thought occurs to me: I co
uld spank her. I’ve wanted to since dinner, but I could make it fun.
I get off the bed. “Don’t go away,” I warn, and leave the room. From my study I pick up the key to the playroom and head upstairs. In the playroom chest I retrieve the toys I want and contemplate lube as well, but on reflection, and judging from recent experience, I don’t think Ana will need any.
She’s sitting on the bed when I get back, her expression bright with curiosity.
“When’s your first interview tomorrow?” I ask.
“Two.”
Excellent. No early morning.
“Good. Get off the bed. Stand over here.” I point to a spot in front of me. Ana scrambles off the bed with no hesitation, eager as ever. She’s waiting.
“Trust me?”
She nods, and I hold out my hand, revealing two silver kegel balls. She frowns and looks from the balls to me. “These are new. I am going to put these inside you and then I’m going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine.”
MONDAY, MAY 30, 2011
* * *
Her sharp intake of breath is music to my dick. “Then we’ll fuck,” I whisper. “And if you’re still awake, I’ll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?”
She nods. Her breathing has accelerated, her pupils are larger, darker, with her need and her thirst for knowledge.
“Good girl. Open your mouth.”
She hesitates for a moment, bewildered. But she does as she’s told before I can reprimand her.
“Wider.”
I insert both of the balls into her mouth. They’re a little big and heavy but will keep her smart mouth occupied for a moment or two.
“They need lubrication. Suck.”
She blinks and tries to suck, her stance changing subtly as she presses her thighs together and squirms.
Oh yes.
“Keep still, Anastasia,” I caution, but I’m enjoying the show.
Enough.
“Stop,” I order, and tug them from her mouth. At the bed I throw the comforter aside and sit down. “Come here.”
She sidles up to me, wanton and sexy.
Oh, Ana, my little freak.
“Now turn around, bend down, and grab your ankles.” Her expression tells me it’s not what she was expecting to hear. “Don’t hesitate,” I chide her, and I pop the balls into my mouth. She turns around, and with no effort bends over, presenting her long legs and her fine ass to me, my T-shirt slipping up her back toward her head and her mane of hair.
Well, I could look at this glorious sight for a while and imagine what I’d like to do to it. But right now I want to spank and fuck her. I lay my hand over her backside, enjoying her warmth under my palm as I caress her through her panties.
Oh, this ass is mine, so mine. And it’s going to get warmer.
I slide her panties to one side, exposing her labia, and hold them in place with one hand. I resist the urge to run my tongue up and down the length of her sex; besides, my mouth is full. Instead, I trace the line down from her perineum to her clitoris and up again, before easing my finger inside her.
Deep in my throat I hum with approval and slowly circle my finger, stretching her. She moans and I harden. Instantly.
Miss Steele approves. She wants this.
With my finger I circle inside her once more, then withdraw and remove the balls from my mouth. Gently, I insert the first ball into her, then the second, leaving the tag outside, draped against her clitoris. I kiss her bare ass and slide her panties back into place.
“Stand up,” I command, and grasp her hips until I know she’s steady on her feet. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Her voice is rough.
“Turn around.”
She complies immediately.
“How does that feel?” I ask.
“Strange.”
“Strange good or strange bad?”
“Strange good,” she answers.
“Good.”
She’ll need to get used to them. What better way than to stretch and reach for something?
“I want a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me, please. And when you come back, I shall put you across my knee. Think about that, Anastasia.”
She’s puzzled, but she turns and walks gingerly, with tentative steps, out of the room. While she’s gone I collect a condom from my drawer. I’m running low; I’ll need to stock up on these until her pill kicks in. Sitting back down on the bed, I wait with impatience.
When she reenters her walk is more confident, and she has my water.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a quick sip and placing the glass on my bedside table. When I look up she’s watching me with overt desire.
It’s a good look on her.
“Come. Stand beside me. Like last time.”
She does, and now her breathing is irregular…heavy. Boy, she’s really turned on. So different from the last time I spanked her.
Let’s rile her up some more, Grey.
“Ask me.” My voice is firm.
A mystified look crosses her face.
“Ask me.”
Come on, Ana.
Her brow furrows.
“Ask me, Anastasia. I won’t say it again.” My voice is sharper.
Finally, she realizes what I’m asking for and she blushes. “Spank me, please, Sir,” she says quietly.
Those words…I close my eyes and let them ring through my head. Grasping her hand, I tug her over my knees so her torso lands on the bed. While stroking her behind with one hand, I smooth her hair off her face with the other, and tuck it behind her ear. Then I grasp her hair at the nape of her neck to hold her in place.
“I want to see your face while I spank you.” I caress her behind and push against her vulva, knowing that the action will push the balls deeper inside her.
She hums her approval.
“This is for pleasure, Anastasia, mine and yours.”
I lift my hand, then smack her right there.
“Ah!” she mouths, screwing up her face, and I caress her sweet, sweet ass while she adjusts to the sensation. When she relaxes, I smack her again. She groans, and I suppress my response. I begin in earnest, right cheek, left cheek, then the junction of her thighs and ass. Between each smack I fondle and knead her backside, watching her skin turn a delicate shade of pink beneath her lacy underwear.
She moans, absorbing the pleasure, enjoying the experience.
I stop. I want to see her ass in all its rosy glory. Unhurriedly, teasing her, I tug down her panties, skimming my fingertips down her thighs, the backs of her knees, and her calves. She lifts her feet, and I discard her panties on the floor. She squirms, but stops when I place my hand flat against her pink, glowing skin. Grabbing her hair again, I start anew. Gently first, then resuming the pattern.
She’s wet; her arousal is on my palm.
I grip her hair harder and she moans, eyes closed, mouth open and slack.
Fuck, she’s hot.
“Good girl.” My voice is hoarse, my breathing erratic.
I spank her a couple more times until I can bear it no more.
I want her.
Now.
I wrap my fingers around the tab and draw the balls out of her.
She cries out in pleasure. Turning her over, I pause to yank my pants off and put on a wretched condom, then lie down beside her. I grab her hands, lift them over her head, and slowly ease myself onto her and into her as she mewls like a cat.
“Oh, baby.” She feels incredible.
“I want you to make love to me.” Her words ring in my head.
And gently, oh so gently, I start to move, feeling every precious inch of her beneath and around me. I kiss her, appreciating her mouth and her body at once. She wraps her legs around mine, meeting each gentle thrust, rocking aga
inst me until she spirals up and up and up and lets go.
Her orgasm tips me over the edge. “Ana!” I call, pouring myself into her. Letting go. A welcome release that leaves me…wanting more. Needing more.
As my equilibrium returns, I push away the strange swell of emotion that gnaws at my insides. It’s not like the darkness, but it’s something to fear. Something I don’t understand.
She flexes her fingers around mine, and I open my eyes and look down into her sleepy, sated gaze.
“I enjoyed that,” I whisper, and give her a lingering kiss.
She rewards me with a drowsy smile. I get up, cover her with the comforter, pick up my PJ pants, and pad into the bathroom, where I remove and dispose of the condom. I pull on my pants and find the arnica cream.
Back at the bed, Ana gives me a contented grin.
“Roll over,” I order, and for a moment I think she’s going to roll her eyes, but she indulges me and moves. “Your ass is a glorious color,” I observe, pleased with the results. I squirt some cream on my palm and slowly massage it into her behind.
“Spill the beans, Grey,” she says with a yawn.
“Miss Steele, you know how to ruin a moment.”
“We had a deal,” she insists.
“How do you feel?”
“Shortchanged.”
With a heavy sigh I place the arnica cream on the bedside table and slip into bed, pulling Ana into my arms. I kiss her ear. “The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, Anastasia. Go to sleep.”
She tenses in my arms.
I still. I do not want her sympathy or her pity.
“Was?” she whispers.
“She’s dead.”
“How long?”
“She died when I was four. I don’t really remember her. Carrick has given me some details. I only remember certain things. Please go to sleep.”
After a while she relaxes against me. “Good night, Christian.” Her voice is sleepy.
“Good night, Ana.” I kiss her once more, inhaling her soothing scent and fighting off my memories.
