by James, E L
Oh, Ana.
I stop where the dress starts at the small of her back. “This is very revealing,” I whisper. My hand skates lower, over her pert behind, which is provocatively accentuated in the tight clinging material, to the hem. My fingers hover over her skin at her thigh. Gently, I caress her, teasing her flesh as my fingers move around her thigh, her eyes following their path. She inhales sharply, her mouth forming a perfectly fuckable o.
“It’s not far from here.” I run my fingers around the hem, then higher up her thigh. “To here.” I touch her panties and stroke her through the thin material. She gasps as I ease my fingers against her, feeling the fabric dampen beneath my touch.
Oh, baby.
“And your point is?” Her voice is hoarse.
“My point is…it’s not far from here”—I glide my fingers over her panties to the edge and slip my index finger around the fabric so we’re skin on skin—“to here. And then…to here.” As we gaze at each other, I slide my finger inside her.
She’s warm and wet around me, and she closes her eyes as she groans.
“This is mine.” I drip the words into her ear and, closing my eyes, slowly move my finger in and out of her. “I don’t want anyone else to see this.”
She starts to pant, and I open my eyes to watch as I pleasure her. “So be a good girl and don’t bend down, and you should be fine.”
“You approve?” she breathes.
“No, but I’m not going to stop you from wearing it. You look stunning, Anastasia.”
Enough.
I want to fuck her. But we don’t have time. And as much as I want to smudge her makeup, I’m sure she won’t appreciate it. Slowly, I withdraw my hand, and move so I’m in front of her. Gently I trace her bottom lip with the slick tip of my index finger. She puckers her scarlet lips to kiss it.
The contact echoes in my groin.
I grin. A wicked grin.
This is what I love about my girl.
She does not back down from a challenge.
I slip my finger in my mouth.
She tastes mighty fine. I lick my lips and Ana flushes.
Yes. There she is. My girl.
Grinning, I take her hand. “Come.”
Hand in hand, we head downstairs to join our guests, and I’m not immune to the admiring looks they all give my wife.
“Ana! You look like a million dollars,” Mia gushes, giving her a hug.
I release Ana and open the closet door. “Whose coat is this?” I ask, holding up a trench coat.
“Mine,” Mia says.
“Were you going to wear it?”
“Not tonight.”
“Good. Can I borrow it?”
“It’ll be a bit small for you,” Mia quips.
Ignoring her, I hold up the coat for Ana. She rolls her eyes, but acquiesces and lets me slip it on her.
Good.
She might be cold later.
And no one will see her ass.
The food at Montagna is excellent, as is—to my surprise—the conversation. It must be the company. I’ve discovered that I love watching my wife interact with people; she’s charming, funny, and smart. Well, I knew that before I married her, but today her shyness is in check and she’s making it look easy. I wonder if it’s the amount of alcohol she’s consumed that’s making her more gregarious, but right now I don’t care. I could watch her all day. She is bewitching and she offers me hope for our future together. We could do this more often: bring friends here, entertain them, enjoy time with them. I never thought that would be my thing, but maybe it is.
I’m warming more and more to Ethan. He’s passionate about his academic field and excited to be joining the postgraduate psychology program at Seattle U. “Man, you know a lot about this shit,” he says as we await dessert.
I chuckle. “I should. I’ve seen enough shrinks.”
He frowns as if he doesn’t quite believe me. “Really?”
You have no idea.
Elliot stands suddenly, his chair scraping across the floor, the noise ringing over the general level of chatter. We all turn to look at him. He’s gazing down at Kate, and she’s gazing up at him as if he’s grown an extra head. Elliot drops to one knee.
Oh, fuck.
Dude.
Here?
He takes her hand, and I think he has the attention of the entire restaurant. “My beautiful Kate, I love you. Your grace, your beauty, and your fiery spirit have no equal, and you have captured my heart. Spend your life with me. Marry me.”
There’s a collective intake of breath. Ana grabs my hand, and all eyes turn to Kavanagh, who just gapes at Elliot in shock. A tear trickles down her cheek and she splays her hand on her chest, as if she’s trying to contain her emotion. Finally, she smiles. “Yes,” she whispers.
The patrons in the place erupt with cheers, applause, catcalls. This is so Elliot—in a crowded restaurant, in front of everyone. The guy is fearless. My admiration for him grows exponentially. From his pocket he produces a ring box and opens it, showing her the ring inside. Kate throws her arms around him and they kiss.
I laugh as their audience goes wild. Elliot stands, takes a well-deserved bow, and sits down beside his fiancée with a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.
Ana is crying and squeezing my hand.
Shit.
I remember when I first asked her to marry me. She cried then, too. We were on the floor of the living room in Escala, and I had confessed my worst. I wonder what Ethan Kavanagh would make of that if he knew.
Don’t go there, Grey.
Elliot is sliding the ring onto Kate’s finger—which reminds me that I have lost the feeling in mine. I squeeze Ana’s hand, and she lets go, letting the blood rush back into my fingertips. Ana has the grace to look embarrassed. “Ow.” I mouth the word.
“Sorry. Did you know about this?” she whispers.
I give her my best sphinxlike smile and summon the waiter. “Two bottles of the Cristal, please. The 2002, if you have it.” He gives me a wide grin and rushes off.
Ana smirks.
“What?” I ask.
“Because the 2002 is so much better than the 2003,” she teases me.
I laugh. She’s right. But I don’t have to tell her that. “To the discerning palate, Anastasia.”
“You have a very discerning palate, Mr. Grey, and singular tastes.”
“That I do, Mrs. Grey.” I lean closer, catching a trace of her scent. “You taste best.” I kiss the pulse point beneath her ear.
Mia is up and hugging Kate and Elliot. Ana follows.
“Kate, I am so happy for you. Congratulations,” Ana says while she clutches Kate.
I hold out my hand to Elliot, he grins, and he looks so relieved and happy that I pull him into a hug, surprising us both. “Way to go, Lelliot.”
Elliot stills for a nanosecond, no doubt shocked by my sudden display of affection, then he embraces me. “Thanks, Christian,” he says, his voice cracking on my name.
I hug Kate, quickly. “I hope you are as happy in your marriage as I am in mine.”
“Thank you, Christian. I hope so, too,” she says sweetly.
She can be sweet!
Maybe she’s not as annoying as I thought she was.
The waiter opens the champagne and pours it into our flutes. Taking mine, I hold it up to the happy couple in a toast. “To Kate and my dear brother, Elliot—congratulations.”
“Kate and Elliot,” we all murmur.
Ana is smiling.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“The first time I drank this champagne.”
I frown, filing through the myriad memories I have of Ana.
“We were at your club,” she says.
The elevator. I grin. Ana with no panties. “Oh,
yes. I remember.” I wink at her.
“Elliot, have you set a date?” Mia pipes up.
Elliot shakes his head, his exasperation obvious. “I’ve only just asked Kate, so we’ll get back to you on that, ’kay?”
“Oh, make it a Christmas wedding. That would be so romantic, and you’d have no trouble remembering your anniversary.” Mia claps her hands.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” Elliot smirks at her.
“After the champagne, can we please go clubbing?” Mia turns and gives me her most pleading look.
“I think we should ask Elliot and Kate what they’d like to do.”
Elliot shrugs and Kate blushes. I think she wants to return home to the seclusion of their room.
I walk to the front of the line with our guests and we’re ushered into Zax, the nightclub that Mia has set her heart on attending. The music is already thumping through the small lobby. I don’t know how long I’m going to last here.
“Mr. Grey, welcome back,” the receptionist says. “Max will take your coat.” Her words are directed at Ana. A young man dressed in black appears at her side. I think he approves of my wife’s appearance—a little too much, for my liking.
“Nice coat,” he says, admiring Ana’s…physique.
I glare at the little prick. Back off, bud.
He hastily hands me a coat-check ticket.
“Let me show you to your table.” The hostess bats her eyelashes at me, and Ana tightens her grip on my arm. I glance down at her, but her eyes are on the hostess, and we follow her into the club to a VIP seating area near the dance floor. “There’ll be someone along to take your order shortly.” The hostess waltzes off while we sit down.
“Champagne?” I ask, as Ethan and Mia both head to the dance floor, holding hands. Ethan gives me a thumbs-up.
“Show me your ring,” Ana asks Kate, while I turn my attention to my sister and Ethan on the dance floor. She’s making her usual crazy moves, but Ethan seems unconcerned and is following her lead.
The waitress arrives for our drink order.
Ignoring Elliot’s protest about paying, I reel off, “Bottle of Cristal, three Peronis, and a bottle of iced mineral water, six glasses.”
“Thank you, sir. Coming right up.”
Ana is shaking her head.
“What?” I ask her.
“She didn’t flutter her eyelashes at you.”
I must be losing my touch. I try hard not to grin. “Oh. Was she supposed to?”
“Women usually do.”
I smile. “Mrs. Grey, are you jealous?” And tipsy?
“Not in the slightest.” Though she pouts. I take her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing each knuckle.
“You have nothing to be jealous of, Mrs. Grey.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
The waitress returns with our drinks and opens the bottle of champagne with little fuss. She pours it, and Ana takes a sip.
“Here.” I hand her a glass of water. “Drink this.”
Ana frowns and I sigh. “Three glasses of white wine at dinner and two of champagne, after a strawberry daiquiri and two glasses of Frascati at lunchtime. Drink. Now, Ana.”
She scowls at me, probably because I’m keeping score. But she does as she’s told. I’m hoping she’ll avoid a hangover tomorrow. She wipes her hand over her mouth in a less-than-decorous way. I’m assuming it’s her version of a protest at my high-handedness. “Good girl. You’ve vomited on me once already. I don’t wish to experience that again in a hurry.”
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You got to sleep with me.”
This is true. “Yeah, I did.”
“Ethan’s had enough, for now,” Mia exclaims when they return from the dance floor. “Come on, girls. Let’s hit the floor. Strike a pose, throw some shapes, work off the calories from the chocolate mousse.”
Kate stands up. “Coming?” she asks Elliot.
“Let me watch you,” he says.
“I’m going to burn some calories,” Ana says, then leans down so I get a glimpse of some fine cleavage, and she whispers, “You can watch me.”
“Don’t bend over,” I warn.
“Okay.” She stands upright quickly and grabs my shoulder.
Shit. I reach up to support her as she sways, but I don’t think she notices. She’s dizzy or drunk or both. “Perhaps you should have some more water,” I offer.
Perhaps I should take her home.
“I’m fine. These seats are low and my heels are high.” She smiles, and Kate takes her hand as they head onto the dance floor.
I’m not sure how I feel about this.
Kate hugs Ana.
And then they both start to move.
Mia is…well, Mia. I’m used to watching her lost in her own world, dancing around the room. She rarely keeps still.
Kavanagh can dance.
And so can my wife. She sets the dance floor alight, in that scrap of material she calls a dress. Legs, back, ass, hair: she’s letting loose in a most provocative way.
She closes her eyes and surrenders herself to the thumping beat.
Fuck. My mouth dries as I watch her move.
In my previous life, I enjoyed watching dancing like this, but it was always in the privacy of my apartment, and always at my command. I run my thumb over my bottom lip and shift in my chair as my body responds to my wife. Maybe I could persuade Ana to do this at home. For my eyes only. The lyrics of the song are apt.
Damn, you’s a sexy bitch.
As the music pulses through the club, more and more people crowd onto the dance floor. I glance at Elliot, who grins back at me, and we both laugh. “This is a good game,” I mutter.
“Sure is.” His grin is wicked, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
Dirty dog.
“You did it,” I say over the thumping music.
“What?”
“Proposed. In public.”
“Yeah. It was a now-or-never moment.”
“Happy?”
He nods, beaming. “Very.”
I glance back at Ana just in time to see a haystack of a man looming over her, and Ana smacking him across his face.
What the fuck?
Adrenaline courses through my veins, followed closely by a rage that’s baying for blood. Springing up from my seat, I knock over my beer, but I don’t give a shit.
Did he put his hands on my wife?
I’m going to fucking kill him.
At lightning speed I weave through the throng as Ana looks around frantically. I’m here, baby. Slipping my arm around her waist, I move her to my side. The motherfucker in front of her is half a head taller than me, and too broad, like he’s overdone the steroids. He’s young. And stupid. “Keep your fucking hands off my wife.”
“She can take care of herself,” he shouts.
I hit him. Hard. An uppercut to his chin.
And he drops to the floor.
Stay down, asshole.
I’m wound so tight, every sinew and muscle on high alert.
I’m ready. Bring it.
“Christian, no!” Ana moves in front of me and I’m vaguely aware of the panic in her voice. “I already hit him,” she shouts, her hands pushing at my chest. But I don’t take my eyes off the cocksucker on the floor. He scrambles hastily to his feet, and I feel another hand tighten around my arm. I tense, ready to hit that person, too.
It’s Elliot.
The haystack holds up his palms in defeat. “Take it easy, okay? Didn’t mean any harm.” He moves away, tail between his legs, and I have to quell the urge to follow him and teach him some fucking manners. My heart is pounding to the same beat that’s shaking the room. I hear it, the blood thumping against my eardrums.
Or is it the m
usic? I don’t know.
Elliot eases his hold on me and finally lets go.
I’m frozen. In place. Battling to stay afloat and not descend into the abyss.
I take a deep breath, and finally look down at Ana. Her arms are around my neck, her eyes wide and fearful.
Shit. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes.” She slides her hands from my neck to my chest, her eyes searing my soul. She’s scared.
For me?
For her?
For the haystack?
“Do you want to sit down?” I ask.
Ana shakes her head. “No. Dance with me.”
She wants to dance? Now?
I remain impassive as I fight to bring my fury under control, my mind replaying the last fifteen seconds in a loop.
“Dance with me,” she says again, pleading. “Dance. Christian, please.” She takes my hands while I watch the asshole make his way to the exit. Ana starts to move against me. Her warmth, her heat, brushing up against me and seeping into my veins.
It’s…distracting.
“You hit him?” I want to check that I didn’t imagine that.
“Of course I did.” My hands fist, because I want to smack him again. She continues, “I thought it was you, but his hands were hairier. Please dance with me.” Her fingers curl around my balled fists and she moves closer so I catch a trace of her scent.
Ana. Grabbing her wrists, I haul her against my body and pin her hands beneath mine. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance,” I growl in her ear, and roll my hips against her, enjoying the feel of her against my groin. I don’t let go, but when she smiles, I release her and she moves her hands up my arms to my shoulders.
We move.
Together.
Forehead against forehead.
Eye to eye.
Body to body
Soul to soul.
I keep her close.
As she relaxes, she throws her head back.
God, she’s sexy. I am one lucky man.
I spin her across the floor to watch her hair fly out around her.
Then pull her back to me as the throbbing rhythm infects us both.
I’ve never done this.
In a club.
We danced at our wedding…but not like this.
