by E. L. James
She bows her head to avoid eye contact, walks briskly past me, and steps into the bath, sinking into the foam so I can no longer see her body. Looking up at me, her face contrite and open, she says, “I just wonder what you would be like if you hadn’t met her. If she hadn’t introduced you to your, um, lifestyle.”
Damn it. We’re back to Elena.
I stalk toward the tub, slip into the water, and sit on the underwater shelf out of her reach. She watches me, waiting for an answer. The silence between us swells until all I can hear is the blood pumping through my ears.
Fuck.
She doesn’t take her eyes off mine.
Stand down, Ana!
Nope. It’s not going to happen.
I shake my head. Impossible woman.
“I would probably have gone the way of my birth mother, had it not been for Mrs. Robinson.”
She tucks a damp tendril behind her ear, staying quiet.
What can I say about Elena? I think about our relationship: Elena and me. Those heady years. The secrecy. The furtive couplings. The pain. The pleasure. The release…The order and calm she brought to my world. “She loved me in a way I found…acceptable,” I muse, almost to myself.
“Acceptable?” Ana says in disbelief.
“Yes.”
Ana’s expression is expectant.
She wants more.
Shit.
“She distracted me from the destructive path I found myself following.” My voice is low. “It’s very hard to grow up in a perfect family when you’re not perfect.”
She inhales sharply.
Hell. I hate talking about this.
“Does she still love you?”
No! “I don’t think so, not like that. I keep telling you, it was a long time ago. It’s in the past. I couldn’t change it even if I wanted to, which I don’t. She saved me from myself. I’ve never discussed this with anyone.
“Except Dr. Flynn, of course. And the only reason I’m talking about this now, to you, is because I want you to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” she says, “but I do want to know you better, and whenever I try to talk to you, you distract me. There’s so much I want to know.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Anastasia. What do you want to know? What do I have to do?”
She stares at her hands under the surface of the water. “I’m just trying to understand; you’re such an enigma. Unlike anyone I’ve met before. I’m glad you’re telling me what I want to know.”
Abruptly filled with resolve, she moves through the water to sit beside me, leaning against me so my skin sticks to hers.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” she says.
“I am not angry with you, Anastasia. I’m just not used to this kind of talking—this probing. I only have this with Dr. Flynn and with—”
Damn.
“With her? Mrs. Robinson? You talk to her,” she says, her voice breathy and quiet.
“Yes, I do.”
“What about?”
I turn to face her so suddenly that water sloshes out of the bath and onto the floor. “Persistent, aren’t you? Life, the universe—business. Anastasia, Mrs. R and I go way back. We can discuss anything.”
“Me?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Why do you talk about me?” she asks, and now she sounds sullen.
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Anastasia.”
“What does that mean? Anyone who didn’t just automatically sign your paperwork, no questions asked?”
I shake my head. No. “I need advice.”
“And you take advice from Mrs. Pedo?” she snaps.
“Anastasia—enough,” I almost shout. “Or I’ll put you across my knee. I have no sexual or romantic interest in her whatsoever. She’s a dear, valued friend and a business partner. That’s all. We have a past, a shared history, which was monumentally beneficial for me, though it fucked up her marriage—but that side of our relationship is over.”
She squares her shoulders. “And your parents never found out?”
“No,” I growl. “I’ve told you this.”
She regards me warily, and I think she knows she’s pushed me to my limit.
“Are you done?” I ask.
“For now.”
Thank God for that. She wasn’t lying when she told me there was much she wanted to say. But we’re not talking about what I want to talk about. I need to know where I stand. If our arrangement has a chance.
Seize the day, Grey.
“Right—my turn. You haven’t responded to my e-mail.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, then shakes her head. “I was going to respond. But now you’re here.”
“You’d rather I wasn’t?” I hold my breath.
“No, I’m pleased,” she says.
“Good. I’m pleased I’m here, too—in spite of your interrogation. So, while it’s acceptable to grill me, you think you can claim some kind of diplomatic immunity just because I’ve flown all this way to see you? I’m not buying it, Miss Steele. I want to know how you feel.”
Her brows knit together. “I told you. I am pleased you’re here. Thank you for coming all this way.” She sounds sincere.
“It’s my pleasure.” I lean down and kiss her, and she opens like a flower, offering and wanting more. I pull back. “No. I think I want some answers first before we do any more.”
She sighs, her wary look returning. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, how you feel about our would-be arrangement, for starters.”
She makes a moue with her mouth, as if her response will be unpalatable.
Oh dear.
“I don’t think I can do it for an extended period of time. A whole weekend being someone I’m not.” She looks down, away from me.
That’s not a “no.” What’s more, I think she’s right.
Grasping her chin, I tilt her head up so I can see her eyes.
“No, I don’t think you could, either.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Yes, but in a good way.” I kiss her again. “You’re not a great submissive.”
Her mouth drops open. Is she feigning offense? And then she laughs, a sweet, infectious laugh, and I know she’s not offended.
“Maybe I don’t have a good teacher.”
Good point well made, Miss Steele.
I laugh, too. “Maybe. Perhaps I should be stricter with you.” I search her face. “Was it that bad when I spanked you the first time?”
“No, not really,” she says, her cheeks flushing a little.
“It’s more the idea of it?” I ask, pressing her further.
“I suppose. Feeling pleasure when one isn’t supposed to.”
“I remember feeling the same. Takes a while to get your head around it.”
We are finally having the discussion. “You can always use the safe word, Anastasia. Don’t forget that. And, as long as you follow the rules, which fulfill a deep need in me for control and to keep you safe, then perhaps we can find a way forward.”
“Why do you need to control me?”
“Because it satisfies a need in me that wasn’t met in my formative years.”
“So it’s a form of therapy?”
“I’ve not thought of it like that, but yes, I suppose it is.”
She nods. “But, here’s the thing—one moment you say ‘don’t defy me,’ the next you say you like to be challenged. That’s a very fine line to tread successfully.”
“I can see that. But you seem to be doing fine so far.”
“But at what personal cost? I’m tied up in knots here.”
“I like you tied up in knots.”
“That’s not what I meant!” She dashes her hand through the water, soaking me.
/> “Did you just splash me?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Oh, Miss Steele.” I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her onto my lap, slopping water onto the floor once again. “I think we’ve done enough talking for now.”
I hold her head between my hands and kiss her, my tongue teasing her lips apart, then delving into her mouth, dominating her. She runs her fingers through my hair, returning my kiss, twisting her tongue around mine. Angling her head with one hand, I shift her with the other so she’s astride me.
I pull back to take a breath. Her eyes are dark and carnal, her lust plain to see. I pull her wrists behind her back and grasp them in one hand. “I’m going to have you now,” I declare, and I lift her so that my erection is poised beneath her. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she breathes, and slowly I lower her onto me, watching her expression as I fill her. She moans and closes her eyes, thrusting her breasts forward into my face.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I flex my hips, lifting her, burying myself even deeper inside her, and lean forward so our foreheads are touching.
She feels so good.
“Please, let my hands go,” she whispers.
I open my eyes and see her mouth open as she drags air into her lungs.
“Don’t touch me,” I plead, and release her hands and grasp her hips. She grabs the edge of the bath and slowly starts to take me. Up. Then down. Oh so slowly. She opens her eyes to find mine on her face. Watching her. Riding me. Leaning down, she kisses me, her tongue invading my mouth. I close my eyes, reveling in the sensation.
Oh yes, Ana.
Her fingers are in my hair, tugging and pulling as she kisses me, her wet tongue entwining with mine as she moves. I hold her hips and start lifting her higher and faster, vaguely aware that water is cascading out of the bath.
But I don’t care. I want her. Like this.
This beautiful woman who moans into my mouth.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Over and over.
Giving herself to me. Taking me.
“Ah.” The pleasure catches in her throat.
“That’s right, baby,” I whisper, as she quickens around me, then cries out as she explodes into her orgasm.
I wrap my arms around her, embracing her, holding her tightly as I lose myself and come inside her. “Ana, baby!” I cry, and I know I never want to let her go.
She kisses my ear.
“That was—” she breathes.
“Yeah.” Holding her arms, I urge her back so I can study her. She looks sleepy and sated, and I imagine I must look the same. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She looks confused.
“For not touching me,” I clarify.
Her face softens and she raises her hand. I tense. But she shakes her head and traces my lips with her finger.
“You said it’s a hard limit. I understand.” And she leans forward and kisses me. The unfamiliar feeling surfaces, swelling in my chest, unnamed and dangerous.
“Let’s get you to bed. Unless you have to go home?” I’m alarmed at where my emotions are going.
“No. I don’t have to go.”
“Good. Stay.”
I stand her up and climb out of the bath to fetch us both towels, and dismiss my unsettling feelings.
I wrap her in a towel, drape one around my waist, and drop another on the floor in a vain attempt to clean up the water sloshed on the floor. Ana wanders over to the sinks as I drain the bath.
Well. That was an interesting evening.
And she was right. It was good to talk, though I’m not sure we’ve resolved anything.
She’s brushing her teeth with my toothbrush when I walk through the bathroom to the bedroom. It makes me smile. I pick up my phone and see that the missed call was from Taylor.
I text him.
Everything okay?
I’ll be leaving to go gliding at 6 a.m.
He responds immediately.
That’s why I was calling.
Weather looks good.
I’ll see you there.
Good night, sir.
I’m taking Miss Steele soaring! My delight bubbles up into a broad grin that widens when she comes out of the bathroom wrapped in the towel.
“I need my purse,” she says, looking a little shy.
“I think you left it in the living room.”
She scampers off to fetch it, and I brush my teeth, knowing that the toothbrush has just been in her mouth.
In the bedroom I discard the towel, pull back the sheets, and lie down, waiting for Ana. She’s disappeared into the bathroom again and closed the door.
Moments later she returns. She drops her towel and lies down beside me, naked except for a shy smile. We lie in bed facing each other, hugging our pillows. “Do you want to sleep?” I ask. I know we have to get up early, and it’s nearly eleven.
“No. I’m not tired,” she says, her eyes shining.
“What do you want to do?” More sex?
“Talk.”
More talking. Oh Lord. I smile, resigned. “About what?”
“Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“What’s your favorite film?”
I like her quick-fire questions. “Today, it’s The Piano.”
She beams back at me. “Of course. Silly me. Such a sad, exciting score, which no doubt you can play. So many accomplishments, Mr. Grey.”
“And the greatest one is you, Miss Steele.”
Her grin broadens. “So I am number seventeen.”
“Seventeen?”
“Number of women you’ve, um…had sex with.”
Oh, shit. “Not exactly.”
Her smile vanishes. “You said fifteen.”
“I was referring to the number of women in my playroom. I thought that’s what you meant. You didn’t ask me how many women I’d had sex with.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Vanilla?” she asks.
“No. You are my one vanilla conquest.” And for some strange reason, I feel insanely pleased with myself. “I can’t give you a number. I didn’t put notches in the bedpost or anything.”
“What are we talking—tens, hundreds…thousands?”
“Tens. We’re in the tens, for pity’s sake.” I feign outrage.
“All submissives?”
“Yes.”
“Stop grinning at me,” she says haughtily, trying and failing to stifle hers.
“I can’t. You’re funny.” And I feel a little light-headed as we beam at each other.
“Funny peculiar or funny ha-ha?”
“A bit of both, I think.”
“That’s damned cheeky, coming from you,” she says.
I kiss her nose to prepare her. “This will shock you, Anastasia. Ready?”
Her eyes are wide and eager, full of delight.
Tell her.
“All submissives in training, when I was training. There are places in and around Seattle that one can go and practice. Learn to do what I do.”
“Oh,” she exclaims.
“Yep, I’ve paid for sex, Anastasia.”
“That’s nothing to be proud of,” she scolds me. “And you’re right, I am deeply shocked. And cross that I can’t shock you.”
“You wore my underwear.”
“Did that shock you?”
“Yes. You didn’t wear your panties to meet my parents.”
Her delight is restored. “Did that shock you?”
“Yes.”
“It seems I can only shock you in the underwear department.”
“You told me you were a virgin. That’s the biggest shock I’ve ever had.”
“Yes, your face was a picture, a Kodak moment.” She
giggles, and her face lights up.
“You let me work you over with a riding crop.” I’m grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat. When have I ever stretched out naked beside a woman and just talked?
“Did that shock you?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I may let you do it again.”
“Oh, I do hope so, Miss Steele. This weekend?”
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
“Yes. I’ll go to the Red Room of Pain again.”
“You say my name.”
“That shocks you?”
“The fact that I like it shocks me.”
“Christian,” she whispers, and the sound of my name from her lips spreads warmth through my body.
Ana.
“I want to do something tomorrow.”
“What?”
“A surprise. For you.”
She yawns.
Enough. She’s tired.
“Am I boring you, Miss Steele?”
“Never,” she confesses. I lean across and give her a quick kiss.
“Sleep,” I order, and switch off the bedside light.
And a few moments later I hear her even breathing; she’s fast asleep. I pull a sheet over her, roll onto my back, and stare up at the whirring ceiling fan.
Well, talking isn’t so bad.
Today worked out after all.
Thank you, Elena…
And with a sated smile, I close my eyes.
THURSDAY, JUNE 2, 2011
* * *
No. Don’t leave me.” The whispered words penetrate my slumber, and I stir and wake.
What was that?
I look around the room. Where the hell am I?
Oh yes, Savannah.
“No. Please. Don’t leave me.”
What? It’s Ana. “I’m not going anywhere,” I mutter, bemused. Turning, I prop myself up on my elbow. She’s huddled beside me and she looks like she’s asleep.
“I won’t leave you,” she mumbles.
My scalp prickles. “I’m very glad to hear that.”
She sighs.
“Ana?” I whisper. But she doesn’t react. Her eyes are closed. She’s fast asleep. She must be dreaming…what is she dreaming about?
“Christian,” she says.
