by James, E L
When I don’t respond, she looks up at me and registers my annoyed frown.
“Yes what?” I whisper.
“Yes, Sir,” she says quickly.
“Good girl.” I stroke her hair. “I think we’d better get you upstairs now.” Offering my hand, I help her to her feet, and together we walk to the stairs and up to the playroom.
Outside the door, I bend down and kiss her, then grasp her hair and tip her head back so I can drown in the depths of her eyes. “You know, you’re topping from the bottom,” I murmur against her lips. But then, she’s been doing that since I met her.
She owns me, body and soul.
“What?” she breathes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll live with it.”
Until death do us part, Anastasia Grey.
Because I love you.
More than life itself.
And I know you love me.
I run my nose down her jaw, filling my senses with her sweet scent. I nibble her ear. “Once inside, kneel, like I’ve shown you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Ana peers at me through her lashes, and I don’t miss her I-so-own-you smile.
It makes me smile, too.
Because it’s true.
She is my everything.
And I’m hers…always.
Now, let’s have some fun…
Epilogue
Monday, July 30, 2012
I lie perfectly still, drinking in the sight of my gorgeous wife lying beside me. Early morning light streams through the gap in the curtains, gilding Ana’s hair and revealing the adoring glow in her face. She doesn’t know I’m awake yet, as she’s busy breastfeeding our son—smiling down, murmuring quiet words of love to him, and stroking his soft, plump cheek.
It’s a stirring scene.
Ana has a fathomless well of love to give. To him. To me.
She shows me how it should be, and that it’s okay to feel this thrill, this passion for someone so small. This flesh of my flesh.
Ted.
My boy.
I’m besotted, with both of them.
She peeks up to check on me, and I’m caught mid-ogle. Her face erupts into an enormous smile. “Good morning, Mr. Grey. Enjoying the view?” She cocks an eyebrow, amused.
“Very much, Mrs. Grey.” Leaning up on my elbow, I press a tender kiss to her waiting lips, and another on the coppery down atop Ted’s head. Closing my eyes, I breathe in his scent; after Ana’s, it’s the sweetest fragrance in the world.
“He smells so good.”
“That’s because I changed his diaper ten minutes ago.”
I grimace, then smile.
Rather you than me!
Ana grins but rolls her eyes, knowing full well what I’m thinking. Teddy ignores us, his eyes closed, his hand splayed over the swell of Ana’s breast. He’s too busy enjoying breakfast.
Lucky boy.
He’s a very lucky boy. He sleeps with us.
That was a battle I was never going to win. And while it has somewhat curtailed our bedroom activity at night, it’s reassuring to know he’s so close when we sleep. It’s ironic to think that until I met Ana, I’d never slept with anyone, and now there are two people in my bed.
“Did he wake last night?”
“Not since I fed him at midnight.” She strokes his cheek once more and croons. “You slept all night, little man.” He pats her breast in response, staring up at her with eyes the same shade as hers, and with a look I know only too well.
Complete adoration.
Yep, Teddy and I suffer from the same fixation.
He closes his eyes and his suckling slows and stops.
She strokes his cheek, then delicately slides her finger into his mouth so he releases her nipple. “That’s breakfast done,” she whispers. “I’ll put him in his crib.”
“I’ll do it.” Today is a special day. Sitting up, I gently scoop him into my arms, enjoying his warmth and weight against my chest. I kiss his head once more and, holding him close, carry him next door to his room, where he should be sleeping. Miraculously, he stays asleep as I lay him down in his crib and cover him with his cotton blanket. Gazing down at him, I’m lost in an overwhelming swell of emotion. It hits me now and then—an immense tidal wave of love that washes over and through me. This tiny human has invaded my heart, ensnared it, and trashed all my defenses. Flynn was right: I love him unconditionally.
I shiver, because this feeling still frightens me, and scan his room. It’s painted like an apple orchard, and one day, I hope to teach him how to grow sweet red apples from a bitter green apple tree with the help of his namesake, Grandpa Theodore. Switching on the baby monitor, I grab the receiver and take it back to our bedroom.
Ana is fast asleep.
Damn. I never wished her a happy anniversary.
For a moment I contemplate waking her, but deep down I know that wouldn’t be fair. Ana is tired most of the time; sleep is prized over everything. Hopefully, now that Ted’s nearly three months old, she’ll get more rest.
I miss her.
Feeling a pang of regret that I know is completely selfish, I stride into the closet to change into my running gear.
I scroll through the songs on my phone and find one that Ana must have uploaded. It brings a smile to my lips.
With Rihanna’s “We Found Love” blaring through my earbuds, I set off for a run down Fourth Avenue. It’s early, and the streets are relatively empty, except for the occasional dog walker, and refrigerated trucks delivering to the local restaurants, and early-shift personnel heading to work. My mind empties as I concentrate on finding my rhythm and setting a long run pace. I’m heading northwest, the sun is shining, the trees are in full leaf, and I feel I could run forever. All is right in my world.
An idea occurs to me.
I decide on a nostalgia tour and set my sights on Ana’s old apartment, where Kate and Ethan live.
For old times’ sake.
Their living arrangements will change shortly; Kate and Elliot are getting married this coming weekend. As soon as Kate found out Ana was pregnant, and her due date, she changed all their plans so that Ana could still be her matron of honor. That woman is as determined as ever—I hope Elliot knows what he’s doing.
His bachelor party was epic, far more gregarious than mine. But that’s Elliot. And what happens in Cabo San Lucas stays there. And even though as best man it was my responsibility to organize the whole shebang, I spent those few days missing my wife and son. But then, I’m not the party animal—Elliot is—and he had fun. That was the point.
As I round the corner onto Vine Street, I’m reminded of my desperate runs during the dark days when Ana left me.
Damn. I was crazy then.
Crazy in love, Grey.
And I didn’t even know it.
Approaching my stalker’s hide, I contemplate pausing there, but dismiss the idea. Those dark days are far behind me. And I don’t want to be away from Ana for too long.
I turn left at the corner onto Western Avenue, my mind drifting to all that’s happened since Ana and I tied the knot—on this day, last year. Of course, the biggest change was the dramatic arrival of Theodore Raymond Grey on May 2, who now rules our hearts and our domain.
God, I love my boy.
Even though I now have to compete with him for my wife’s attention.
I do choose this defenseless baby over you. That’s what any loving parent does.
Damn right, Ana.
Her words still sting, but they resonate with me now. It’s hard, surrendering her to someone else. I wouldn’t do it for anyone but him.
And to see her care for him!
She loves him so much. She’ll do anything for him.
I know that my birth mother, to some degree, must have done the same for
me. I wouldn’t have survived to age four otherwise. It makes me feel a little more kindly toward Ella…just.
In a way, I envy Ted; he has such an advocate in his mother. She’ll fight for him. Always. That’s why he’s in our bed.
While I’m breastfeeding him, he’s here with us. Deal with it, Christian.
My girl does not back down.
And, of course, he has me.
I’ll do everything in my power to keep him safe.
That fucker Hyde is locked up. The trial was a painful but necessary evil—he was convicted of aggravated kidnapping, arson, extortion, and sabotage and sentenced to thirty years. Not long enough, in my opinion, but at least he’s out of our lives and where he deserves to be—behind bars.
Lincoln is bankrupt and currently on remand for felony fraud charges. I hope he, too, rots in jail. Revenge is indeed a most satisfying dish.
Enough, Grey.
I direct my thoughts back to my family as I run through Pike Place Market. I love this time of the morning here: the florists setting up their colorful displays, the fishmongers icing their fresh catch, and the grocers arranging their fruits and vegetables—it’s such a vibrant, bustling part of the city, and so much easier to navigate this early, without the tourists in the way.
Next weekend’s wedding will be held at Eamon Kavanagh’s Medina residence. I still have to write my speech, and much to Kate’s irritation, I’ve refused to give her editorial approval.
She’s such a control freak.
I don’t know how Elliot puts up with her.
Ana and Mia are both part of the bridal party—Ana as matron of honor and Mia as bridesmaid. I hope it’s not going to be too awkward with Ethan.
I shake my head. He’s just not that into you, Mia.
I continue on and pick up my pace on Stewart Street, running toward Escala.
Running home.
Well, to one of our homes.
We divide our time between our two residences—Escala during the week and the Big House, as Ana calls it, on the weekends. So far, it’s working well.
As I reach the main entrance, I check my time. Not bad.
In the elevator I catch my breath and, as I’m alone, stretch out.
Mrs. Jones is busy in the kitchen as I walk past on my way to my bedroom. I check in on Ted and find that he’s still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling.
Damn, but I love it when he sleeps.
Hope, his nanny, should be up and with him shortly.
Ana is still out for the count, too.
I strip down in the closet, dumping my sweaty clothes in the laundry basket, then head into the shower.
The hot water douses me, washing off all the sweat from my run. I’m lost in my thoughts as I soap my hair when I hear the sound of the shower door open. Ana snakes her arms around me and kisses my back, pressing her body against mine.
My day just got a whole lot better.
I make to move, but Ana tightens her arms and splays her hands on my chest. “No,” she says, between kisses on my back. “I want to hold you here. Properly.”
We stand quietly, together, until I can bear it no more. Turning around, I pull her into my arms, enjoying the softness and warmth of her body against mine. She raises her lips to me, her eyes darkening.
“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Happy anniversary.”
“Happy anniversary, Christian.” Her voice is husky, laced with desire.
I touch my lips to hers and my body comes alive. As does Ana. She moans as she kisses me back, opening her mouth and granting me access to her tongue, which greets mine with heightened fervor. We kiss, tongues tangling and tussling together, pouring what must be a week’s worth of frustration into each other as she runs her hands up my back, over my shoulders, and into my hair, pushing me against the cold tiles.
Breathless, she nips my jaw to my ear. “I’ve missed you,” she murmurs above the rush of the shower.
Fuck.
Her words pour gasoline on the fire. My erection is harder and fuller, pressing against her. Wanting her. My fingers are in her wet hair, angling her lips to mine, while I take more from her mouth.
I’d expected maybe some gentle lovemaking, the way we have recently.
But not this.
Ana is lit and greedy. Her teeth scrape along my stubbled jawline. Her fingers tug at my hair as my hands move to her behind, pressing her to me. She squirms against me, finding some friction, her intent clear.
“Ana? Here?” I gasp.
“Yes. I’m not made of glass, Christian.” She’s emphatic as she kisses the line of my clavicle, her hands now roaming down my back to my ass. She squeezes hard, and then her hand is on me.
“Fuck,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
“I’ve missed this.” She wraps her fingers around my cock and starts to move her hand up and down, her mouth on mine once more. I pull back to gaze at her; her eyes are dazed with passion. Her hand tightens around me, and I watch and clench my ass with each move, thrusting into her hand.
She licks her lips.
Oh, no. To hell with this.
I want inside her.
She said she’s not made of glass.
I lift her. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” She complies, with a surprising agility.
That must be her sessions with Bastille.
And her lust.
I turn, resting her back against the tiles.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, and slowly ease into her.
She tips her head up against the wall and cries out.
The sound travels to the end of my dick.
And I start to move.
Hard. Fast.
Her heels press into my butt. Spurring me on. Her arms wrap around my neck, cradling me as I drive myself into her. Over and over. Her breathing accelerates, becoming louder and harsher in my ear as she climbs.
“Yes. Yes,” she whispers, and I don’t know if it’s a plea or a promise.
Ana.
My love.
Suddenly she cries out as her orgasm consumes her, and I let go, following her over the edge, coming inside my wife and calling her name.
When I’m sane again, I’m leaning against her, holding both of us up. Ana unhitches her legs and slides them down my body so that we’re both standing together in the shower.
I press my forehead to hers.
And together we catch our breath.
Holding each other beneath the stream of hot water.
Ana tilts her head up, cups the back of my neck, and brushes her lips against mine. Gentle. Sweet. “I needed that,” she says.
I laugh. “Me, too, baby!” My lips are on hers once more, but this time in thanks.
“Can we enjoy part two in bed?” Her eyes are still smoldering.
“But…work?”
Ana shakes her head. “I’ve taken the day off. I want to spend it in bed with you. We’ll never have this first again, and I want to celebrate our anniversary, doing what we do best.”
I beam down at her, feeling all the love in the world. “Mrs. Grey. Your wish is my command.” Lifting her into my arms, I carry her back to bed and lay her down, both of us soaking wet.
Ana is dozing, facedown and naked on our bed. I kiss her shoulder and get up. In our closet, I drag on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and go in search of food. I check in on Teddy and find Hope with him, changing his diaper.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.” She has a sweet drawl, betraying her southern roots.
“Good morning, Hope.”
Hope minds Teddy when Ana’s at work and lives upstairs with the rest of the staff.
She’s in her early forties. Never married. Never had kids. I’m sure there’s a story there that Ana will unearth one day. Ana has a knack for getting people to talk.
>
She did it with me.
Hope has been with us for three months, and so far, it’s working well. Ana had insisted on someone older—a career nanny, because Ana’s so young. I want someone I can learn from. My mom lives too far away, and your mom is so busy.
Hope does not approve of Ted sleeping in our bed.
As much as I love him, I’m with Hope on this, but Ana will not be swayed.
Hope kisses Teddy’s belly and he chortles with glee.
It’s a beautiful sound.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I tell Hope.
Mrs. Jones is at the stove. “Good morning, Gail.”
“Ah! Mr. Grey. Good morning. Happy anniversary.”
“Thank you. I’d like to take Ana breakfast in bed.”
“Lovely idea. What would the two of you like?”
“Pancakes, bacon. Blueberries. Coffee.”
“Coming right up. It’ll be about twenty minutes.”
“Great.” I amble into my study to fetch the first of my anniversary presents for Ana. The second one, an eternity ring—a symbol of my eternal love—I’ll give to her over dinner this evening. I open my desk drawer to check that the red box with her ring is still there, but my eyes stray to the photograph of Ella Pusztai adorned by a silver frame that’s now tucked away in my drawer. Ana liberated the snap from my childhood bedroom and had it enlarged and placed in the frame as a gift for my last birthday, but no matter how often I open the drawer, the sight of my birth mother catches me unawares.
“You still wanted your mom. You loved her.”
My wife is nothing if not persistent. She also found Ella’s final resting place and we’ll go one day…I think. Maybe I’ll find out more about her then, and maybe after that, she’ll earn a place on my shelf.
You might want to direct some of your forgiveness at her.
I’m working on it, John. I’m working on it.
Enough, Grey.
I close the drawer and retrieve the first present I’m going to give Ana this morning. I hope she likes it. Placing the gift on my desk, I check the time. It’s 8:30. Andrea should be at her desk. My wife has decided to stay home, and so will I. Picking up the phone, I press call.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.”
“Good morning, Andrea. Cancel all my meetings today. I’m taking the day off.”
