by James, E L
I know. But you’re hurt. Let’s not be hasty.
“Slow.” And that’s not a request. I press my lips to the right corner of her mouth “Slow.” The left corner. “Slow, baby.” I suck her bottom lip into my mouth. “Let’s take this slow.” Cradling her head, I continue to kiss her, my tongue subduing hers, hers enticing mine. She glides her fingers across my face, my chin, my throat, and starts on my shirt buttons once more. She tugs my shirt apart, her fingers caressing my chest, then pushing me down so that I’m prostrate beneath her.
She gazes down at me and squirms over my groin.
I push up my hips to enjoy the friction against my eager dick.
Ana watches me, her lips parted as she traces my mouth with the tips of her fingers. She moves on, her fingers skimming over my jaw, down my neck, and to the base of my throat. Leaning down, her tender kisses trail where her fingers have been, grazing my jaw and my throat. I surrender to the sensation, closing my eyes and reclining my head with a moan. Her tongue continues its journey, down my sternum, across my chest, where she stops to kiss a couple of my scars.
Ana.
I want to bury myself deep inside her. Grasping her hips, I meet her dark eyes with a dark look of my own. “You want this? Here?” My voice is husky with need.
“Yes,” she murmurs, and dips her head once more, her lips and tongue teasing my nipple. She tugs it gently.
“Oh, Ana,” I breathe in awe as pleasure spikes through my body. I circle her waist, lift her clear, and quickly unbutton my jeans, open my fly, and push down my underwear so my cock springs free. I sit her down once more and she grinds against me.
Ah. I need to be inside her. Running my hands up her thighs, I pause at the top of her thigh-highs. I circle my thumbs against her warm flesh and move my hands further up, so I brush the damp seeping through her lace panties.
Ana gasps.
“I hope you’re not attached to your underwear,” I whisper, and my fingers slide inside her panties, touching her.
Damn. She’s soaking.
Ready for me.
I force my thumbs through the fabric and the material rips apart.
Yes!
I move my hands to her upper thighs and let my thumbs brush against her clitoris as I tighten my ass, searching for some friction against my cock. She slides over me. “I can feel how wet you are.”
You fucking goddess, Ana.
Sitting up, so we’re eye to eye once more, I wrap my arm around her waist and rub my nose to hers. “We’re going to take this slow, Mrs. Grey. I want to feel all of you.” And before she can argue with me, I lift her again, and gently lower her onto me and fill her, languidly. I close my eyes and relish each delicious inch of her.
She’s bliss.
“Ah!” Ana moans, and grasps my arms. She tries to lift up, eager to begin, but I hold her in place and open my eyes again.
“All of me,” I murmur, and tilt my pelvis up, claiming all of her.
Ana lets out a strangled moan and throws her head back.
“Let me hear you,” I whisper. And she tries to rise again. “No—don’t move, just feel.” Her eyes spring open, and her mouth is agape in a fixed gasp of pleasure. She gazes at me, barely breathing, it seems. I drive into her once more, but hold her still. She groans while I bend my head to kiss her throat. “This is my favorite place. Buried in you,” I whisper to the pulse under her ear.
“Please, move,” she begs.
But I want to tease her.
Take it slow.
So she doesn’t hurt herself.
“Slow, Mrs. Grey.” I flex my ass one more, pushing into her, and she caresses my face and kisses me. Her tongue consuming me.
“Love me. Please, Christian.”
My resolve crumbles, and I skim her jaw with my teeth. “Go.”
I’m all yours, Ana.
She pushes me to the ground, and she starts to move, up and down. Fast, a little frantic. Taking all I have to give.
Oh God.
I grab her hands and complement her wild pace. Pushing up, again and again. Relishing the feel of her, enjoying the view, my wife, the blue sky behind her in the outdoors. “Oh, Ana.” I groan, surrendering completely to her rhythm. I close my eyes and move my hands up her thighs once more, to that precious point between them. There, I press both thumbs against her clitoris, and she cries out, exploding around me, in a gasping, rolling climax that tips me over the edge.
“Ana!” I cry as I succumb to my own heady orgasm.
When I open my eyes, she’s sprawled over me.
I cloak her in my arms, and we lie together. Still joined.
I’ve missed this.
Her hand is over my heart as it slows to its normal rhythm.
It’s weird. Not long ago I couldn’t have tolerated her hands on me.
Now, I crave her touch.
She kisses my chest.
And I kiss her hair. “Better?” I ask.
She raises her head, her grin reflecting mine.
“Much. You?”
I’m just grateful that she’s here and whole and still with me, after everything that’s happened. “I’ve missed you, Mrs. Grey.”
“Me, too.”
“No more heroics, eh?”
“No,” she breathes.
“You should always talk to me,” I insist in a soft voice.
“Back at you, Grey.”
“Fair point well made. I’ll try.” I kiss her again, smirking. She’s not taking any of my shit, as usual.
“I think we’re going to be happy here,” Ana says.
“Yep. You, me, and Blip. How do you feel, incidentally?”
“Fine. Relaxed. Happy.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“Yeah, all those things.” Deliriously happy, Ana.
She peers at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You know, you’re very bossy when we have sex.”
Oh. “Are you complaining?”
“No,” she says emphatically. “I’m just wondering. You said you missed it.”
And I wonder what she means for a moment.
Control? I need that. The playroom? What we do in there? A vision of her shackled to the four-poster, the Tallis ringing through the room, comes to mind. Or maybe the cross and a riding crop…the brown leather one. My memories go on and on, seducing me.
“Sometimes,” I whisper.
Yeah. Sometimes I miss it.
She smiles. “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” She drops a kiss on my lips.
Oh. That sounds interesting.
“I like to play, too,” she says, and peeks shyly up at me.
Well. Well. Well. This perfect day just got a whole lot better.
“You know, I’d really like to test your limits,” I whisper.
“My limits for what?”
“Pleasure.”
“Oh, I think I’d like that.”
“Well, maybe when we get home.” I hug her gently, marveling at how much she means to me.
How much I love her.
Who knew I could fall so desperately and completely in love?
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Flynn is at a loss for words.
This might be a first.
I’ve given him an executive summary of all that has transpired since our last session. “So that’s why you came looking for me,” he mutters.
“Yes.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Well, first things first. How’s Ana?”
“She’s good. On the mend. Desperate to get back to work.”
“No PTSD?”
“I don’t think so. But it might be too early to tell.”
“I can recommend someone, if she ne
eds a therapist.” He stops and taps his lip with his index finger. “Shall we take this in stages? Let’s start with the pregnancy, and your reaction.”
“Not my proudest moment.” I stare past him at a space on the wall, embarrassed to look him in the eye.
“No,” he agrees, far too readily. “How are you feeling about it now?”
Sighing, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “Resigned. Excited. Scared. In about equal measure. I would have preferred if we’d waited. But now that Junior is on his way…well.” I shrug.
Flynn’s expression is sympathetic, I think. “You don’t truly learn what unconditional love is until you have a child.”
“That’s what Ana says. But I’ve only just learned to love her…” I trail off, unwilling to voice the rest of my thought.
“How can you love someone else, too?” Flynn finishes the sentence for me.
My smile is bleak.
“Christian, knowing your extraordinary need to protect and provide for those who are close to you, those you love, there’s no doubt in my mind that you have an innate capacity to love your own child.”
“I hope you’re right.”
John allows himself a small smile. “We’ll see. You’ll find out in a few months. How are you feeling about Mrs. Lincoln?”
“As if that chapter’s closed.”
Flynn nods.
“I think it helps that I told Ana everything. How it all began and how it all ended. It feels complete.”
“Sounds like it. Any regrets?”
I blow out a breath. “Telling Ana? No. None. Severing my relationship with Elena… Yes. No…”
John purses his lips and I add quickly, “I know you don’t agree. I know what Elena and I did was wrong…what she did was wrong. Her behavior was predatory—I understand that now, but I don’t wholly regret it. How can I? I’ve always believed she was what I needed at the time. She taught me so much.”
He sighs. “She took advantage of a vulnerable adolescent, Christian. You can’t dodge that truth.”
I stare at him.
He’s not wrong.
But I’m not prepared to admit that…yet.
“Give me time,” I state quietly.
He nods. “No doubt we’ll keep coming back to this, so let’s give you some time and we can dig into that again when you’re ready.” He blows out a breath. “I’d like to ask you about the conversation with your parents with regard to your foster placement. How that felt?”
“Strange, for several reasons.”
“Please, elaborate.”
“First of all, I was stunned they were so quick to respond to my call for help.”
“Have they not done that before?”
“Well, yes, they have. My mom was really helpful with Ray, when he was in an accident.”
“But that’s different. She’s a doctor.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure I’ve ever asked them about something so personal before. I think I gave up trying a long time ago. As you know, in my teens, I had a difficult relationship with both of them. And they were so disappointed and disapproving after I dropped out of Harvard.”
Flynn nods. “But as a parent you always think you know what’s best for your child. It’s a lesson worth remembering. Dropping out obviously did you no harm.”
“But the other evening when they came over, they were more than helpful. They brought all that stuff with them.” I point to the manilla folder that Flynn has already leafed through. He reaches for the photograph of the Collier family and their two foster children.
“And that’s Hyde?” He indicates the truculent red-haired boy.
I nod.
“And you. The smallest kid.”
“Yes.”
“It must have been very unsettling for you, not to remember this time.”
“It was.”
“Do you remember more now?”
“Yes. I think it was my mother’s reassurance, that I came to no harm in the foster family’s care, that was the most comforting. It enabled me to let the memories in. Before then, my imagination went wild. I was scared to remember. You know…when you don’t know.”
“Yes. I understand. You believe her?”
“Yes. The recollections I do have are all good.”
“And what of Kristian Pusztai?”
I sigh. “He’s no more.”
Flynn’s brow creases. “Are you sure?”
I scoff. “No. But I think it’s time I grew up and left him behind. My wife told me in no uncertain terms that I need to grow up and smell the fucking coffee.”
Flynn snorts. “Did she, now? Have you told her? About this?” He holds up my birth certificate.
“No.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “She knows me as Christian Grey.”
John considers my response. “That child is part of you.”
“I know. But I want to keep him to myself for a little while longer. Get used to him.”
“Will you tell her?”
“One day. Sure.”
“You’ve only known about him for a few days. I think you’re entitled to keep him to yourself for as long as you want, Christian. Learn to love him. Forgive him. It’s in your power to do so.”
I gasp as the full weight of Flynn’s words blindside me.
Forgive him.
“What did he do that requires forgiveness?” I whisper.
John smiles at me, kindly. “He survived.”
I’m frozen. Staring at him.
“And his poor mother didn’t. You might want to direct some of your forgiveness at her, too.”
I gaze at him for what feels like minutes, then I glance at the clock. “Okay.” I blow out a breath, relieved we’re done. “As ever, you’ve given me a great deal to think about.”
“Good. That’s my job. We still have so much to discuss, but I’m sorry, we’re out of time.”
“We’re getting there, surely?” I ask.
Flynn’s grin is amicable. “Slowly. Now we’re at this point, your attachment issues alone could fill a year.”
I laugh. “I know.”
“But you’re beginning to open up to your wife. Making yourself vulnerable. These are giant steps.”
I nod, feeling like I got an A in therapy. “I think so.”
“I’ll see you next time. And congratulations, Christian.”
I frown. What?
“The baby.” Flynn grins.
“Oh, yes. Junior. Thank you.”
It’s dusk, a golden pink light filling the room. My hands in the pockets of my pants, I stare out at the Seattle skyline toward the Sound and smile—from my ivory tower, as Ana would say. And I would correct her and tell her it’s our ivory tower.
She was animated and talkative at dinner, happy to be working. After our meal she returned to her lair—well, the library—to sort through query letters that she had messengered over from SIP. Perhaps she should go into the office tomorrow. I think she’s well enough.
My mind shifts to my conversation with Flynn.
Forgive him.
Forgive her.
Perhaps it’s time. I’ve spent so long loathing the crack whore, I’m not sure I can move on from those feelings, but Ana was passionate in her defense… Forgive her. She had her own world of pain to deal with. She was a shitty mother, and you loved her.
My shrink and my wife are of one accord. Perhaps I should listen to them.
Idly I walk to the piano, sit down, and start to play Debussy’s “Arabesque No. 1.” A piece I haven’t played in forever. As the upbeat, evocative melody echoes through the room, I disappear into the music.
My phone buzzes, interrupting the second Arabesque.
I have an e-mail from my wife.
From: Anastasi
a Grey
Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure
Date: September 21 2011 20:45
To: Christian Grey
Sir
I await your instructions.
Yours always
Mrs. G x
I stare at it in anticipation as desire wakes my body.
Ana wants to play.
Best not to keep a lady waiting.
I type a response.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure <— love this title, baby
Date: September 21 2011 20:48
To: Anastasia Grey
Mrs. G
I’m intrigued. I’ll come find you.
Be ready.
Christian Grey
Anticipative CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
She can’t be in the playroom—I’d have noticed her moving to the upper floor. I open the bedroom door, and here she is, kneeling at the entrance—eyes downcast, wearing a pale blue camisole and panties, and nothing else. On the bed she’s laid out my Dom jeans.
My heart lurches into overdrive as I gaze at her, drinking in every detail: her parted lips, her long lashes, her hair curling in luscious waves below her breasts. Her breathing’s accelerated; she’s excited. My beautiful girl is offering herself to me, wholly. Again.
Last time we were in the playroom, she safe-worded on me.
And yet she trusts me enough to go again.
What did I do to deserve her?
She’s still healing, Grey.
Fuck.
But she’s dropped enough hints these last few days.
We’ll have to see what we can do about that.
And suddenly a barrage of visions of Ana in the playroom fill my mind.
That first time.
Her nervousness.
My excitement.
Damn. She wants this…so do I. I reach for my jeans and, turning, head into the closet to change. As I strip, I think of what we could do. We’ll take it easy…easy sweet.
But I’m going to drive her wild.
A frisson of pure excitement runs down my spine to my dick.
Bring it on, Mrs. Grey.
I return to the bedroom and she’s still kneeling at the door. “So, you want to play?”
“Yes.”
Oh, Ana. You can do better than that.
