Fifty Shades Freed Extended Version
Christian is running both his hands through his hair and pacing up and down his study. Two hands – that’s double exasperation. His usual concrete control seems to have slipped a notch.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” he castigates me.
“The subject never came up. I’m not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to ev- eryone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other.” I’m staring at my hands. Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad? I peek up at him.
“Well, you know a lot more about me now,” he snaps, his mouth presses into a hard line. “I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!” He says it like it’s a really dirty word. “Hell, Ana, I just showed you,” he groans. “May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?”
“Of course I have.” I try my best to look affronted. Okay… maybe twice.
“And a nice young man hasn’t swept you off your feet? I just don’t understand. You’re twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You’re beautiful.” He runs his hand through his hair again. Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Christian Grey thinks I’m beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. Perhaps he’s near-sighted, my subconscious has reared her somnambulant head. Where was she when I needed her? “And you’re seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience.”
His brows knit together. “How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please.”
I shrug.
“No one’s really, you know.” Come up to scratch, only you. And you turn out to be some kind of monster. “Why are you so angry with me?” I whisper.
“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with myself. I just assumed… ” He sighs. He regards me shrewdly and then shakes his head. “Do you want to go?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“No, unless you want me to go,” I murmur. Oh no… I don’t want to leave.
“Of course not. I like having you here.” He frowns as he says this and then glances at his watch. “It’s late.” And he turns to look at me. “You’re biting your lip.” His voice is husky, and he’s eyeing me speculatively.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s just that I want to bite it too, hard.”
I gasp… how can he say things like that to me and not expect me to be affected. “Come,” he murmurs.”
“What?”
“We’re going to rectify the situation right now.” “What do you mean? What situation?”
“Your situation. Ana, I’m going to make love to you, now.”
“Oh.” The floor has fallen away. I’m a situation. I’m holding my breath. “That’s if you want to, I mean, I don’t want to push my luck.”
“I thought you didn’t make love. I thought you fucked hard.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.
“I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we’ll see. I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me. I want our arrangement to work, but you re- ally need to have some idea what you’re getting yourself into. We can start your training tonight – with the basics. This doesn’t mean I’ve come over all hearts and flowers, it’s a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do too.” His gray gaze is intense.
I flush… oh my… wishes do come true.
“But I haven’t done all the things you require from your list of rules.” My voice is all breathy, hesitant.
“Forget about the rules. Forget about all those details for tonight. I want you. I’ve wanted you since you fell into my office, and I know you want me. You wouldn’t be sitting here calmly discussing punishment and hard limits if you didn’t. Please, Ana, spend the night with me.” He holds his hand out to me, his eyes are bright, fervent… excited, and I put my hand in his. He pulls me up and into his arms so I can feel the length of his body against mine, this swift action taking me by surprise. He runs his fingers round the nape of my neck, winds my ponytail around his wrist, and gently pulls so I’m forced to look up at him. He gazes down at me.
“You are one brave young woman,” he whispers. “I am in awe of you.”
His words are like some kind of incendiary device; my blood flames. He leans down and kisses my lips gently, and he sucks at my lower lip.
“I want to bite this lip,” he murmurs against my mouth, and carefully he tugs at it with his teeth. I moan, and he smiles.
“Please Ana, let me make love to you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, because that’s why I’m here. His smile is triumphant as he releases me and takes my hand and leads me through the apartment.
His bedroom is vast. The ceiling height windows look out on a lit up, high-rise Seattle. The walls are white, and the furnishings are pale blue. The enormous bed is ultra-modern, made of rough, grey wood, like driftwood, four posts, but no canopy. On the wall above it is a stunning painting of the sea.
I am quaking like a leaf. This is it. Finally, after all this time, I’m going to do it, with none other than Christian Grey. My breath is shallow, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He removes his watch and places it on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and removes his jacket, placing it on a chair. He’s dressed in his white linen shirt and jeans. He is heart-stoppingly beautiful. His dark copper hair is a mess, his shirt hanging out – his gray eyes bold and dazzling. He steps out of his Converse shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually. Christian Grey’s feet… wow… what is it about naked feet? Turning, he gazes at me, his expression soft.
“I assume you’re not on the pill.”
What! Shit.
“I didn’t think so.” He opens the top drawer of the chest and removes a packet of con- doms. He gazes at me intently.
“Be prepared,” he murmurs. “Do you want the blinds drawn?”
“I don’t mind.” I whisper. “I thought you didn’t let anyone sleep in your bed.” “Who says we’re going to sleep?” he murmurs softly.
“Oh.” Holy hell.
He strolls slowly toward me. Confident, sexy, eyes blazing, and my heart begins to pound. My blood’s pumping around my body. Desire, thick and hot, pools in my belly. He stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes. He’s so freaking hot.
“Let’s get this jacket off, shall we?” he says softly, and takes hold of the lapels and gently slides my jacket off my shoulders. He places it on the chair.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you, Ana Steele?” he whispers. My breath hitches. I cannot take my eyes off his. He reaches up and gently runs his fingers down my cheek to my chin.
“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” he adds, caressing my chin. The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion.
The pain is so sweet and sharp I want to close my eyes, but I’m hypnotized by his gray eyes staring fervently into mine. Leaning down, he kisses me. His lips are demanding, firm and slow, molding mine. He starts unbuttoning my shirt while he places feather-like kisses across my jaw, my chin, and the corners of my mouth. Slowly he peels it off me and lets it fall to the floor. He stands back and gazes at me. I’m in the pale blue lacy perfect-fit bra. Thank heavens.
“Oh, Ana,” he breathes. “You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss every single inch of it.”
I flush. Oh my… Why did he say he couldn’t make love? I will do anything he wants. He grasps my hair tie, pulls it free, and gasps as my hair cascades down around my shoul- ders.
“I like brunettes,” he murmurs, and both of his hands are in my hair, grasping each side of my head. His kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips coaxing mine. I moan, and my tongue tentatively meets his. He puts his arms around me and hauls me against his body, squeezing me tightly. One hand remains in my hair, the other travels down my spine to my waist and down to my behind. His hand flexes over my backside and squeezes gently. He holds me against his hips, and I feel his erection, which he languidly pushes into me.
I moan once more into his mouth. I can hardly contain the riotous feelings or is it hormones that rampage through my body. I want him so badly. Gripping his upper arms, I feel his biceps, he’s surprisingly strong… muscular. Tentatively, I move my hands up to his face and into his hair. Holy Moses. It’s so soft, unruly. I tug gently, and he groans. He eases me toward the bed, until I feel it behind my knees. I think he’s going to push me down on to it, but he doesn’t. Releasing me, he suddenly drops to his knees. He grabs my hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around my navel, then gently nips his way to my hipbone, then across my belly to my other hipbone.
“Ah,” I groan.
Seeing him on his knees in front of me, feeling his mouth on me, it’s so unexpected,, and hot. My hands stay in his hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too-loud breathing. He gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching smoky gray. His hands reach up and undo the button on my jeans, and he leisurely pulls down the zipper. Without taking his eyes off mine, his hands move beneath the waistband, skimming me and moving to my behind. His hands glide slowly down my backside to my thighs, removing my jeans as they go. I cannot look away. He stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. He leans forward, running his nose up the apex between my thighs. I feel him. There.
“You smell so good,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse. He reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall on to the mattress.
Still kneeling, he grasps my foot and undoes my Converse, pulling off my shoe and sock. I raise myself up on my elbows to see what he’s doing. I’m panting… wanting. He lifts my foot by the heel and runs his thumbnail up my instep. It’s almost painful, but I feel the movement echoed in my groin. I gasp. Not taking his eyes off mine, again he runs his tongue along my instep and then his teeth. Shit. I groan… how can I feel this, there. I fall back on to the bed, moaning. I hear his soft chuckle.
“Oh, Ana, what I could do to you,” he whispers. He removes my other shoe and sock, then stands and removes my jeans. I’m lying on his bed dressed only in my bra and panties, and he’s staring down at me.
“You’re very beautiful, Anastasia Steele. I can’t wait to be inside you.” Holy shit. His words. He’s so seductive. He takes my breath away. “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
What? I frown.
“Don’t be coy, Ana, show me,” he whispers. I shake my head.
“I don’t know what you mean.” My voice is hoarse. I hardly recognize it, laced with desire.
“How do you make yourself come? I want to see.” I shake my head.
“I don’t,” I mumble. He raises his eyebrows, astonished for a moment, and his eyes darken, and he shakes his head in disbelief.
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” His voice is soft, challenging, a delicious sensual threat. He undoes the buttons of his jeans and slowly pulls his jeans down, his eyes on mine the whole time. He leans down over me and, grasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart and crawls onto the bed between my legs. He hovers over me. I am squirming with need.
“Keep still,” he murmurs, and then he leans down and kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing kisses up, over the thin lacy material of my panties, kissing me.
Oh… I can’t keep still. How can I not move? I wriggle beneath him.
“We’re going to have to work on keeping you still, baby.” He trails kisses up my belly, and his tongue dips into my navel. Still he’s heading north, kissing me across my torso. My skin is burning. I’m flushed, too hot, too cold, and I’m clawing at the sheet beneath me. He lay down beside me, and his hand trails up from my hip, to my waist, and up to my breast. He gazes down at me, his expression unreadable, and gently cups my breast.
“You fit my hand perfectly, Anastasia,” he murmurs and dips his index finger into the cup of my bra and gently yanks it down freeing my breast, but the under wire and fabric of the cup force it upward. His finger moves to my other breast and repeats the process. My breasts swell, and my nipples harden under his steady gaze. I am trussed-up by my own bra.
“Very nice,” he whispers appreciatively, and my nipples harden even more.
He blows very gently on one as his hand moves to my other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of my nipple, elongating it. I groan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to my groin. I am so wet. Oh please, I beg internally as my fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around my other nipple and he tugs, I nearly convulse.
“Let’s see if we can make you come like this,” he whispers, continuing his slow, sen- sual assault. My nipples bear the delicious brunt of his deft fingers and lips, setting alight every single nerve ending in my body so that my whole body sings with the sweet agony. He just doesn’t stop.
“Oh… please,” I beg, and I pull my head back, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening. Holy hell, what’s happening to me?
“Let go, baby,” he murmurs. His teeth close round my nipple, and his thumb and finger pull hard, and I fall apart in his hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces. He kisses me, deeply, his tongue in my mouth absorbing my cries.
Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about. He gazes down at me, a satisfied smile on his face, while I’m sure there’s nothing but gratitude and awe on mine.
“You are very responsive,” he breathes. “You’re going to have to learn to control that, and it’s going to be so much fun teaching you how.” He kisses me again.
My breathing is still ragged as I come down from my orgasm. His hand moves down my waist, to my hips, and then cups me, intimately… Jeez. His finger slips through the fine
lace and slowly circles around me – there. Briefly he closes his eyes, and his breathing hitches.
“You’re so deliciously wet. God, I want you.” He thrusts his finger inside me, and I cry out as he does it again and again. He palms my clitoris, and I cry out once more. He pushes inside me harder and harder still. I groan.
Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. Holy cow… He reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a foil packet, and then he moves between my legs, spreading them further apart. He kneels up and pulls a condom on to his considerable length. Oh no…Will it? How?
“Don’t worry,” he breathes, his eyes on mine, “You expand too.” He leans down, his hands on either side of my head, so he’s hovering over me, staring down into my eyes, his jaw clenched, eyes burning. It’s only now that I register he’s still wearing his shirt.
“You really want to do this?” he asks softly. “Please,” I beg.
“Pull your knees up,” he orders softly, and I’m quick to obey. “I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele,” he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. “Hard,” he whispers, and he slams into me.
“Aargh!” I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity. He stills, gazing down at me, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph.
His mouth is open slightly, and his breathing is harsh. He groans. “You’re so tight. You okay?”
I nod, my eyes wide, my hands on his forearms. I feel so full. He stays still, letting me acclimatize to the intrusive, overwhelming feeling of him inside me.
“I’m going to move, baby,” he breathes after a moment, his voice tight.
Oh.
He eases back with exquisite slowness. And he closes his eyes and groans, and thrusts into me again. I cry out a second time, and he stills.
“More?” he whispers, his voice raw.
“Yes,” I breathe. He does it once more, and stills again. I groan. My body accepting him… Oh, I want this. “Again?” he breathes.
“Yes.” It’s a plea.
And he moves, but this time he doesn’t stop. He shifts onto his elbows so I can feel his weight on me, holding me down. He moves slowly at first, easing himself in and out of me. And as I grow accustomed to the alien feeling, my hips move tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. I moan, and he pounds on, picking up speed, merciless, a relentless rhythm, and I keep up, meeting his thrusts. He grasps my head between his hands and kisses me hard, his teeth pulling at my lower lip again. He shifts slightly, and I can feel something building deep inside me, like before. I start to stiffen as he thrusts on and on. My body quivers, bows, a sheen of sweat gathers over me. Oh my… I didn’t know it would feel like this… didn’t know it could feel as good as this. My thoughts are scattering… there’s only sensation… only him… only me… oh please… I stiffen.
“Come for me, Ana,” he whispers breathlessly, and I unravel at his words, exploding around him as I climax and splinter into a million pieces underneath him. And as he comes, he calls out my name, thrusting hard, then stilling as he empties himself into me.
I am still panting, trying to slow my breathing, my thumping heart, and my thoughts are in riotous disarray. Wow… that was astounding. I open my eyes, and he has his fore- head pressed against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. Christian’s eyes flicker open and gaze down at me, dark but soft. He’s still inside me. Leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against my forehead then slowly pulls out of me.
“Ooh.” I wince at the unfamiliarity.
“Did I hurt you?” Christian asks as he lies down beside me propped on one elbow. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. And I have to grin, widely.
“You are asking me if you hurt me?”
“The irony is not lost on me,” he smiles sardonically. “Seriously, are you okay?” His eyes are intense, probing, demanding even.
I stretch out beside him, feeling loose-limbed, my bones like jelly, but I’m relaxed, deeply relaxed. I grin at him. I can’t stop grinning. Now I know what all the fuss is about. Two orgasms… coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow. I had no idea what my body was capable of, could be wound so tightly and released so violently, so gratifyingly. The pleasure was indescribable.
“You’re biting your lip, and you haven’t answered me.” He’s frowning. I grin up at him impishly. He looks glorious with his tousled hair, burning narrowed gray eyes, and serious, dark expression.
“I’d like to do that again,” I whisper. For a moment, I think I see a fleeting look of relief on his face, before the shutters come down, and he gazes at me through hooded eyes. “Would you now, Miss Steele?” he murmurs dryly. He leans down and kisses me very gently at the corner of my mouth. “Demanding little thing aren’t you. Turn on your front.”
I blink at him momentarily, and then I turn over. He unhooks my bra and runs his hand down my back to my behind.
“You really have the most beautiful skin,” he murmurs. He shifts so that one of his legs pushes between mine, and he’s half lying across my back. I can feel the buttons of his shirt pressing into me as he gathers my hair off my face and kisses my bare shoulder.
“Why are you wearing your shirt?” I ask. He stills. After a beat, he shuffles out of his shirt, and he lies back down on me. I feel his warm skin against mine. Hmm… it feels heavenly. He has a light dusting of hair across his chest, which tickles my back.
“So you want me to fuck you again?” he whispers in my ear, and he begins to trail feather light kisses around my ear and down my neck.
His hand moves down, skimming my waist, over my hip, and down my thigh to the back of my knee. He pushes my knee up higher, and my breath hitches… oh my, what’s he doing now? He shifts so he’s between my legs, pressed against my back, and his hand travels up my thigh to my behind. He caresses my cheek slowly, and then trails his fingers down between my legs.
“I’m going to take you from behind, Anastasia,” he murmurs, and with his other hand, he grasps my hair at the nape in a fist and pulls gently, holding me in place. I cannot move my head. I am pinioned beneath him, helpless.
“You are mine,” he whispers. “Only mine. Don’t forget it.” His voice is intoxicating, his words heady, seductive. I feel his growing erection against my thigh.
His long fingers reach round to gently massage my clitoris, circling slowly. His breath is soft against my face as he slowly nips me along my jaw.
“You smell divine,” he nuzzles behind my ear. His hand rubs against me, round and round. Reflexively, my hips start to circle, mirroring his hand, as excruciating pleasure spikes through my blood like adrenaline.
“Keep still,” he orders, his voice soft but urgent, and slowly he inserts his thumb inside me, rotating it round and round, stroking the front wall of my vagina. The effect is mind- blowing – all my energy concentrating on this one small space inside my body. I moan.
“You like this?” he asks softly, his teeth grazing my outer ear, and he starts to flex his thumb slowly, in, out, in, out… his fingers still circling.
I close my eyes, trying to keep my breathing under control, trying to absorb the disor- dered, chaotic sensations that his fingers are unleashing on me, fire coursing through my body. I moan again.
“You’re so wet, so quickly. So responsive. Oh, Anastasia, I like that. I like that a lot,” he whispers.
I want to stiffen my legs, but I can’t move. He’s pinning me down, keeping up a constant, slow, tortuous rhythm. It’s absolutely exquisite. I moan again, and he moves suddenly.
“Open your mouth,” he commands and thrusts his thumb in my mouth. My eyes fly open, blinking wildly.
“See how you taste,” he breathes against my ear. “Suck me, baby.” His thumb presses on my tongue, and my mouth closes round him, sucking wildly. I taste the saltiness on his thumb and the faint metallic tang of blood. Holy fuck. This is wrong, but holy hell is it erotic.
“I want to fuck your mouth, Anastasia, and I will soon,” his voice is hoarse, raw, his breathing more disjointed.
Fuck my mouth! I moan, and I bite down on him. He gasps, and he pulls my hair tighter, painfully, so I release him.
“Naughty, sweet girl,” he whispers, and then reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. “Stay still, don’t move,” he orders as he releases my hair.
He rips the foil while I’m breathing hard, my blood singing in my veins. The anticipa- tion is exhilarating. He leans down, his weight on me again, and he grabs my hair holding my head immobile. I cannot move. I’m enticingly ensnared by him, and he’s poised and ready to take me once more.
“We’re going to go real, slow this time, Anastasia,” he breathes.
And slowly he eases into me, slowly, slowly, until he’s buried in me. Stretching, fill- ing, relentless. I groan loudly. It feels deeper this time, delectable. I groan again, and he deliberately circles his hips and pulls back, pauses a beat, and then eases his way back in. He repeats this motion again and again. It’s driving me insane – his teasing, deliberately slow thrusts, and the intermittent feeling of fullness is overwhelming.
“You feel so good,” he groans, and my insides start to quiver. He pulls back and waits. “Oh no, baby, not yet,” he murmurs, and as the quivering ceases, he starts the whole deli- cious process again.
“Oh, please,” I beg. I’m not sure I can take much more. My body is wound so tight, craving release.
“I want you sore, baby,” he murmurs, and he continues his sweet, leisurely torment, backward, forward.
“Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here. Only me. You are mine.”
I groan.
“Please, Christian,” I whisper.
“What do you want, Anastasia? Tell me.”
I groan again. He pulls out and moves slowly back into me, circling his hips once more.
“Tell me,” he murmurs. “You, please.”
He increases the rhythm infinitesimally, and his breathing becomes more erratic. My insides start quickening, and Christian picks up the rhythm.
“You. Are. So. Sweet,” he murmurs between each thrust. “I. Want. You. So. Much.” I moan.
“You. Are. Mine. Come for me, baby,” he growls.
His words are my undoing, tipping me over the precipice. My body convulses around him, and I come, loudly calling out a garbled version of his name into the mattress, and Christian follows with two sharp thrusts, and he freezes, pouring himself into me as he finds his release. He collapses on top of me, his face in my hair.
“Fuck. Ana,” he breathes. He pulls out of me immediately and rolls onto his side of the bed. I pull my knees up to my chest, utterly spent, and immediately drift off or pass out into an exhausted sleep.When I wake, it’s still dark. I have no idea how long I’ve slept. I stretch out beneath the duvet, and I feel sore, deliciously sore. Christian is nowhere to be seen. I sit up, staring out at the cityscape in front of me. There are fewer lights on amongst the skyscrapers, and there’s a whisper of dawn in the east. I hear the music. The lilting notes of the piano, a sad, sweet lament. Bach, I think, but I’m not sure.
I wrap the duvet round me and quietly pad down the corridor toward the big room. Christian is at the piano, completely lost in the music he’s playing. His expression is sad and forlorn, like the music. His playing is stunning. Leaning against the wall at the en- trance, I listen enraptured. He’s such an accomplished musician. He sits naked, his body bathed in the warm light cast by a solitary freestanding lamp beside the piano. With the rest of the large room in darkness, it’s like he’s in his own isolated little pool of light, untouch- able… lonely, in a bubble.
I pad quietly toward him, enticed by the sublime, melancholy music. I’m mesmer- ized watching his long skilled fingers as they find and gently press the keys, thinking how
those same fingers have expertly handled and caressed my body. I flush and gasp at the memory and press my thighs together. He glances up, his unfathomable gray eyes bright, his expression unreadable.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” A frown flits across his face.
“Surely, I should be saying that to you,” he murmurs. He finishes playing and puts his hands on his legs.
I notice now that he’s wearing PJ pants. He runs his fingers through his hair and stands. His pants hang from his hips, in that way… oh my. My mouth goes dry as he casually strolls around the piano toward me. He has broad shoulders, narrow hips, and his abdomi- nal muscles ripple as he walks. He really is stunning.
“You should be in bed,” he admonishes. “That was a beautiful piece. Bach?”
“Transcription by Bach, but it’s originally an oboe concerto by Alessandro Marcello.” “It was exquisite, but very sad, such a melancholy melody.”
His lips quirk up in a half smile.
“Bed,” he orders. “You’ll be exhausted in the morning.” “I woke and you weren’t there.”
“I find it difficult to sleep, and I’m not used to sleeping with anyone,” he murmurs. I can’t fathom his mood. He seems a little despondent, but it’s difficult to tell in the dark- ness. Perhaps it was the tone of the piece he was playing. He puts his arm around me and gently walks me back to the bedroom.
“How long have you been playing? You play beautifully.” “Since I was six.”
“Oh.” Christian as a six-year-old boy… my mind conjures an image of a beautiful, copper-haired little boy with gray eyes and my heart melts – a moppet-haired kid who likes impossibly sad music.
“How are you feeling?” he asks when we are back in the room. He switches on a sidelight.
“I’m good.”
We both glance down at the bed at the same time. There’s blood on the sheets – evi- dence of my lost virginity. I flush, embarrassed, pulling the duvet tighter around me.
“Well, that’s going to give Mrs. Jones something to think about,” Christian mutters as he stands in front of me. He puts his hand under my chin and tips my head back, staring down at me. His eyes are intense as he examines my face. I realize that I’ve not seen his naked chest before. Instinctively, I reach out to run my fingers through the smattering of dark hair on his chest to see how it feels. Immediately, he steps back out of my reach.
“Get into bed,” he says sharply. “I’ll come and lie down with you.” His voice softens. I drop my hand and frown. I don’t think I’ve ever touched his torso. He opens a chest of drawers and pulls out a t-shirt and quickly slips it on.
“Bed,” he orders again. I climb back onto the bed, trying not to think about the blood. He clambers in beside me and pulls me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me so that I’m facing away from him. He kisses my hair gently, and he inhales deeply.
“Sleep, sweet Anastasia,” he murmurs, and I close my eyes, but I can’t help feel a re- sidual melancholy either from the music or his demeanor. Christian Grey has a sad side.

Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and open my eyes. It’s a beautiful May morning, Seattle at my feet. Wow, what a view. Beside me, Christian Grey is fast asleep. Wow, what a view. I’m surprised he’s still in bed. He’s facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks younger, relaxed in sleep. His sculptured, pouty lips are parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess. How could anyone look this good and still be legal? I re- member his room upstairs… perhaps he’s not legal. I shake my head, so much to think about. It’s tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he’s so lovely when he’s asleep. I don’t have to worry about what I’m saying, what he’s saying, what plans he has, especially his plans for me.
I could gaze at him all day, but I have needs – bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find his white shirt on the floor and shrug it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but I’m in a vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Lines and lines of expensive suits, shirts, shoes, and ties. How can anyone need this many clothes? I tut with disapproval. Actually, Kate’s wardrobe probably rivals this. Kate! Oh no. I didn’t think about her all evening. I was supposed to text her. Crap. I’m going to be in trouble. I wonder briefly how she’s getting on with Elliot.
Returning to the bedroom, Christian is still asleep. I try the other door. It’s the bath- room, and it’s bigger than my bedroom. Why does one man need so much space? Two
sinks, I notice with irony. Given he doesn’t sleep with anyone, one of them can’t have been used.
I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look different? I feel dif- ferent. I feel a little sore, if I’m honest, and my muscles – jeez it’s like I’ve never done any exercise in my life. You don’t do any exercise in your life, my subconscious has woken. She’s staring at me with pursed lips, tapping her foot. So you’ve just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn’t love you. In fact, he has very odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.
ARE YOU CRAZY? She’s shouting at me.
I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, fancy falling for a man who’s beyond beautiful, richer than Croesus, and has a Red Room of Pain waiting for me. I shudder. I’m bewildered and confused. My hair is its usual wayward self. Just-fucked hair doesn’t suit me. I try and bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up – maybe I’ll find hair ties in my purse.
I’m starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so I leave him and head for the kitchen.
Oh no… Kate. I left my purse in Christian’s study. I fetch it and reach for my cell phone. Three texts.*RU OK Ana*
*Where RU Ana*
*Damn it Ana*

I call Kate. When she doesn’t answer, I leave her a groveling message to tell her I am alive and have not succumbed to Bluebeard, well not in the sense she would be worried about – or perhaps I have. Oh this is so confusing. I have to try and categorize and analyze my feelings for Christian Grey. It’s an impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I need alone time, away from here to think.
I find two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pig- tails. Yes! The more girly I look, perhaps the safer I’ll be from Bluebeard. I take my iPod out of the bag and plug my headphones in. There’s nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of Christian’s shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing.
Holy hell, I’m hungry.
I am daunted by his kitchen. It’s so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. It takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors to open them. Perhaps I should cook Christian breakfast. He was eating an omelet the other day… um, yesterday at the Heathman. Jeez, so much has happened since then. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way round the kitchen.
Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. Music blaring in my ears also helps to stave off deep thought. I came here to spend the night in Christian Grey’s bed, and managed it, even though he doesn’t let anyone in his bed. I smile, mission accomplished. Big time. I grin. Big, big time, and I’m distracted by the memory of last night. His words, his body, his lovemaking… I close my eyes as my body hums at the rec-
ollection, and my muscles contract deliciously deep in my belly. My subconscious scowls at me… fucking – not lovemaking – she screams at me like a harpy. I ignore her, but deep down I know she has a point. I shake my head to concentrate on the task at hand.
There is a state-of-the-art range. I think I have the hang of it. I need somewhere to keep the pancakes warm, and I start on the bacon. Amy Studt is singing in my ear about misfits. This song used to mean so much to me, that’s because I’m a misfit. I have never fitted in anywhere and now… I have an indecent proposal to consider from King Misfit himself. Why is he this way? Nature or Nurture? It’s so alien to anything I know.
I put the bacon under the grill, and while it’s cooking, I whisk some eggs. I turn, and Christian is sitting on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, leaning on it, his face sup- ported by his steepled hands. He’s still wearing the t-shirt he’s slept in. Just-fucked hair re- ally, really suits him, as does his designer stubble. He looks both amused and bewildered. I freeze, flush, then gather myself and pull the headphones out of my ears, my knees weak at the sight of him.
“Good morning, Miss Steele. You’re very energetic this morning,” he says dryly. “I slept well,” I stutter my explanation. His lips try to mask his smile.
“I can’t imagine why.” He pauses and frowns. “So did I, after I came back to bed.” “Are you hungry?”
“Very,” he says with an intense look, and I don’t think he’s referring to food. “Pancakes, bacon, and eggs?”
“Sounds great.”
“I don’t know where you keep your placemats.” I shrug, trying desperately hard not to look flustered.
“I’ll do that. You cook. Would you like me to put some music on so you can continue your… err… dancing?”
I stare down at my fingers, knowing that I am turning puce.
“Please, don’t stop on my account. It’s very entertaining.” His tone is one of wry amusement.
I purse my lips. Entertaining eh? My subconscious has doubled over in laughter at me. I turn and continue to whisk the eggs, probably beating them a little harder than they need. In a moment, he’s beside me. He gently pulls my pigtail.
“I love these,” he whispers. “They won’t protect you.” Hmm Bluebeard…
“How would you like your eggs?” I ask tartly. He smiles. “Thoroughly whisked and beaten,” he smirks.
I turn back to the task at hand, trying to hide my smile. He’s hard to stay mad at. Es- pecially when he’s being so uncharacteristically playful. He opens a drawer and takes out two black slate placemats for the breakfast bar. I pour the egg mix into a pan, pull out the bacon and turn it over, and put it back under the grill.
When I turn back round, there is orange juice on the table, and he’s making coffee. “Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please. If you have some.”
I find a couple of plates and place them in the warming tray of the range. Christian reaches into a cupboard and pulls out some Twining’s English Breakfast tea. I purse my lips.
“Bit of a foregone conclusion wasn’t I?”
“Are you? I’m not sure we’ve concluded anything yet, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.
What does he mean by that? Our negotiations? Our, err… relationship… whatever that is? He’s still so cryptic. I serve up the breakfast onto the heated plates and lay them on the placemats. I hunt in the refrigerator and find some maple syrup.
I glance up at Christian, and he’s waiting for me to sit down. “Miss Steele.” He motions to one of the bar stools.
“Mr. Grey.” I nod in acknowledgement. I climb up and wince slightly as I sit down. “Just how sore are you?” he asks as he sits down. His gray eyes dark.
I flush. Why does he ask such personal questions?
“Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to,” I snap at him. “Did you wish to offer your commiserations?” I ask too sweetly. I think he’s trying to stifle a smile, but I can’t be sure.
“No. I wondered if we should continue your basic training.”
“Oh.” I stare at him dumbfounded as I stop breathing and everything inside me clench- es tight. Ooh… that’s so nice. I suppress my groan.
“Eat, Anastasia.” My appetite has become uncertain again… more… more sex… yes please.
“This is delicious, incidentally.” He grins at me.
I try a forkful of omelet but can barely taste it. Basic training! I want to fuck your mouth. Does that form part of basic training?
“Stop biting your lip. It’s very distracting, and I happen to know you’re not wearing anything under my shirt which makes it even more distracting,” he growls.
I dunk my teabag in the small pot that Christian has provided. My mind is in a whirl. “What sort of basic training did you have in mind?” I ask, my voice slightly too high, betraying my wish to sound as natural, disinterested, and calm as I can with my hormones
wreaking havoc through my body.
“Well, as you’re sore, I thought we could stick to oral skills.”
I choke on my tea, and I stare at him, eyes wide and gaping. He pats me gently on the back and passes me some orange juice. I cannot tell what he’s thinking.
“That’s if you want to stay,” he adds. I glance up at him, trying to recover my equilib- rium. His expression is unreadable. It’s so frustrating.
“I’d like to stay for today. If that’s okay. I have to work tomorrow.” “What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?”
“Nine.”
“I’ll get you to work by nine tomorrow.”
I frown. Does he want me to stay another night? “I’ll need to go home tonight – I need clean clothes.” “We can get you some here.”
I don’t have spare cash to spend on clothes. His hand comes up, and he grasps my chin, tugging it so my lip is released from the grip of my teeth. I’m not even aware I’ve been biting my lip.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I need to be home this evening.”
His mouth is a hard line.
“Okay, this evening,” he acquiesces. “Now eat your breakfast.”
My thoughts and my stomach are in turmoil. My appetite has vanished. I stare at my half-eaten breakfast. I’m just not hungry.
“Eat, Anastasia. You didn’t eat last night.” “I’m really not hungry,” I whisper.
His eyes narrow.
“I would really like you to finish your breakfast.” “What is it with you and food?” I blurt. His brow knits.
“I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat,” he snaps. His eyes are dark, pained.
Holy Crap. What is that all about? I pick up my fork and eat slowly, trying to chew. I must remember not to put so much on my plate if he’s going to be weird about food. His expression softens as I carefully make my way through my breakfast. I note that he cleans his plate. He waits for me to finish, and then he clears my plate.
“You cooked, I’ll clear.” “That’s very democratic.”
“Yes.” He frowns. “Not my usual style. After I’ve done this, we’ll take a bath.”
“Oh, okay.” Oh my… I’d much rather have a shower. My cell rings, interrupting my reverie. It’s Kate.
“Hi.” I wander over to the glass doors of the balcony, away from him. “Ana, why didn’t you text last night?” She’s angry.
“I’m sorry, I was overtaken by events.” “You’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Did you?” She’s fishing for information. I roll my eyes at the expectation in her voice. “Kate, I don’t want to talk over the phone.” Christian glances up at me.
“You did… I can tell.”
How can she tell? She’s bluffing, and I can’t talk about this. I’ve signed a damned agreement.
“Kate, please.”
“What was it like? Are you okay?” “I’ve told you I’m okay.”
“Was he gentle?”
“Kate, please!” I can’t hide my exasperation.
“Ana, don’t hold out on me, I’ve been waiting for this day for nearly four years.” “I’ll see you this evening.” I hang up.
That is going to be one difficult square to circle. She’s so tenacious, and she wants to know – in detail, and I can’t tell her because I’ve signed a – what was it called? NDA. She’ll freak and rightly so. I need a plan. I head back to watch Christian move gracefully around his kitchen.
“The NDA, does it cover everything?” I ask tentatively.
“Why?” he turns and gazes at me while putting the Twinings away. I flush.
“Well, I have a few questions, you know, about sex.” I stare down at my fingers. “And I’d like to ask Kate.”
“You can ask me.”
“Christian, with all due respect.” My voice fades. I can’t ask you. I’ll get your biased, kinky-as-hell, distorted world-view regarding sex. I want an impartial opinion. “It’s just about mechanics. I won’t mention the Red Room of Pain.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“Red Room of Pain? It’s mostly about pleasure, Anastasia. Believe me,” he says. “Besides,” his tone is harsher. “Your room-mate is making the beast with two backs with my brother. I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“Does your family know about your… um predilection?”
“No. It’s none of their business.” He saunters toward me until he’s standing in front of me.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, and raising his hand runs his fingers gently down my cheek to my chin, tilting my head back so he can look directly into my eyes. I squirm inwardly. I cannot lie to this man.
“Nothing specific at the moment,” I whisper.
“Well, we can start with – how was last night for you?” His eyes burn, filled with curi- osity. He’s anxious to know. Wow.
“Good,” I murmur. His lips lift slightly.
“Me too,” he murmurs. “I’ve never had vanilla sex before. There’s a lot to be said for it. But then, maybe it’s because it’s with you.” He runs his thumb across my lower lip.
I inhale sharply. Vanilla sex?
“Come, let’s have a bath.” He leans down and kisses me. My heart leaps and desire pools way down low… way down there.

The bath is a white stone, deep, egg-shaped affair, very designer. Christian leans over and fills it from the faucet on the tiled wall. He pours some expensive looking bath oil into the water. It foams as the bath fills and smells of sweet sultry Jasmine. He stands and gazes at me, his eyes dark, then peels his t-shirt off and casts it on the floor.
“Miss Steele.” He holds his hand out.
I’m standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and wary, my arms wrapped around myself. I step forward while surreptitiously admiring his physique. He is just yummy. My subcon- scious swoons and passes out somewhere in the back of my head. I take his hand, and he bids me to step into the bath while I am still wearing his shirt. I do as I’m told. I’ll have to get used to it if I’m going to take him up on his outrageous offer… if! The water is entic- ingly hot.
“Turn around, face me,” he orders, his voice soft. I do as I’m bid. He’s watching me intently.
“I know that lip is delicious, I can attest to that, but will you stop biting it?” he says through clenched teeth. “You chewing it makes me want to fuck you, and you’re sore, okay?”
I gasp, automatically unlocking my lip, shocked.
“Yeah,” he challenges. “Got the picture.” He glares at me. I nod frantically. I had no idea I could affect him so.
“Good.” He reaches forward and takes my iPod out of the breast pocket, and he puts it by the sink.
“Water and iPods – not a clever combination,” he mutters. He reaches down, grasps the hem of my white shirt, lifts it above my head, and discards it on the floor.
He stands back to gaze at me. I’m naked for heaven’s sake. I flush crimson and stare down at my hands, level with the base of my belly, and I desperately want to disappear into the hot water and foam, but I know he won’t want that.
“Hey,” he summons me. I peek up at him, and his head is cocked to one side. “Anasta- sia, you’re a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don’t hang your head like you’re ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s a real joy to stand here and gaze at you.” He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head up to reach his eyes. They are soft and warm, heated even. Oh my. He’s so close. I could just reach up and touch him.
“You can sit down now.” He halts my scattered thoughts, and I scoot down into the warm, welcoming water. Ooh… it stings. Which takes me by surprise, but it smells heav- enly too, and the initial smarting pain soon ebbs away. I lie back and briefly close my eyes, relaxing in the soothing warmth. When I open them, he is gazing down at me.
“Why don’t you join me?” I ask, bravely I think – my voice husky. “I think I will. Move forward,” he orders.
He strips out of his PJ pants and climbs in behind me. The water rises as he sits and pulls me against his chest. He places his long legs over mine, his knees bent and his ankles level with mine, and he pulls his feet apart, opening my legs. I gasp in surprise. His nose is in my hair and he inhales deeply.
“You smell so good, Anastasia.”
A tremor runs through my whole body. I am naked, in a bath with Christian Grey. He’s naked. If someone had told me I’d be doing this when I woke up in his hotel suite yesterday, I would not have believed them.
He reaches for a bottle of body wash from the built-in shelf beside the bath and squirts some into his hand. He rubs his hands together, creating a soft, foaming lather, and he closes his hands around my neck and starts to rub the soap into my neck and shoulders, massaging firmly with his long, strong fingers. I groan. His hands on me feel good.
“You like that?” I hear his smile. “Hmm.”
He moves down my arms, then under them to my underarms washing gently. I’m so glad Kate insisted I shave. His hands glide across to my breasts, and I inhale sharply as his fingers encircle them and start kneading gently, taking no prisoners. My body bows instinctively, pushing my breasts into his hands. My nipples are tender. Very tender, no doubt from his less-than-delicate treatment of them last night. He doesn’t linger long and glides his hands down to my stomach and belly. My breathing increases, and my heart is racing. His growing erection presses against my behind. It’s such a turn-on knowing that it’s my body making him feel this way. Ha… not your mind. My subconscious sneers. I shake off the unwelcome thought.
He stops and reaches for a washcloth as I pant against him, wanting… needing. My hands rest on his firm, muscular thighs. Squirting more soap on to the washcloth, he leans down and washes between my legs. I hold my breath. His fingers skillfully stimulating me through the cloth, it’s heavenly, and my hips start moving at their own rhythm, pushing against his hand. As the sensations take over, I tilt my head back, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth slack, and I groan. The pressure is building slowly, inexorably inside me … oh my.
“Feel it, baby,” Christian whispers in my ear and very gently grazes my earlobe with his teeth. “Feel it for me.” My legs are pinioned by his to the side of the bath, holding me prisoner, giving him easy access to this most private part of myself.
“Oh… please,” I whisper. I try to stiffen my legs as my body goes rigid. I am in a sexual thrall to this man, and he doesn’t let me move.
“I think you’re clean enough now,” he murmurs, and he stops. What! No! No! No!
My breathing is ragged.
“Why are you stopping?” I gasp.
“Because I have other plans for you Anastasia.” What… oh my… but… I was… that’s not fair. “Turn around. I need washing, too,” he murmurs.
Oh! Turning to face him, I’m shocked to find he has his erection firmly in his grasp.
My mouth drops open.
“I want you to become well acquainted, on first name terms if you will, with my favor- ite and most cherished part of my body. I’m very attached to this.”
It’s so big and growing. His erection is above the water line, the water lapping at his hips. I glance up at him and come face to face with his wicked grin. He’s enjoying my astounded expression. I realize that I’m staring. I swallow. That was inside me! It doesn’t seem possible. He wants me to touch him. Hmm… okay, bring it on.
I smile at him and reach for the body wash, squirting some soap onto my hand. I do as he’s done, lathering the soap in my hands until they are foamy. I do not take my eyes off his. My lips are parted to accommodate my breathing… very deliberately I gently bite my bottom lip and then run my tongue across it, tracing where my teeth have been. His eyes are serious and dark, and they widen as my tongue skims my lower lip. I reach forward and place one of my hands around him, mirroring how he’s holding himself. His eyes close briefly. Wow… feels much firmer than I expect. I squeeze, and he places his hand over mine.
“Like this,” he whispers, and he moves his hand up and down with a firm grip round my fingers, and my fingers tighten around him. He closes his eyes again, and his breath hitches in his throat. When he opens them again, his gaze is scorching molten gray. “That’s right, baby.”
He releases my hand, leaving me to continue alone, and closes his eyes as I move up and down his length. He flexes his hips slightly into my hand and reflexively I grasp him tighter. A low groan escapes from deep within his throat. Fuck my mouth… hmm. I remember him pushing his thumb in my mouth and asking me to suck, hard. His mouth drops open slightly as his breathing increases. I lean forward, while he has his eyes closed, and place my lips around him and tentatively suck, running my tongue over the tip.
“Whoa… Ana.” His eyes fly open, and I suck harder.
Hmm… he’s soft and hard at once, like steel encased in velvet, and surprisingly tasty
– salty and smooth.
“Christ,” he groans, and he closes his eyes again.
Moving down, I push him into my mouth. He groans again. Ha! My inner goddess is thrilled. I can do this. I can fuck him with my mouth. I twirl my tongue around the tip again, and he flexes his hips. His eyes are open now, blistering with heat. His teeth are clenched as he flexes again, and I push him deeper into my mouth, supporting myself on his thighs. I feel his legs tense beneath my hands. He reaches up and grabs my pigtails and starts to really move.
“Oh… baby… that feels good,” he murmurs. I suck harder, flicking my tongue across the head of his impressive erection. Wrapping my teeth behind my lips, I clamp my mouth around him. His breath hisses between his teeth, and he groans.
“Jesus. How far can you go?” he whispers.
Hmm… I pull him deeper into my mouth so I can feel him at the back of my throat and then to the front again. My tongue swirls around the end. He’s my very own Christian Grey flavor popsicle. I suck harder and harder, pushing him deeper and deeper, swirling my tongue round and round. Hmm… I had no idea giving pleasure could be such a turn-on, watching him writhe subtly with carnal longing. My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.
“Anastasia, I’m going to come in your mouth,” his breathy tone is warning. “If you don’t want me to, stop now.” He flexes his hips again, his eyes are wide, wary, and filled with salacious need – need for me. Need for my mouth… oh my.
Holy crap. His hands are really gripping my hair. I can do this. I push even harder and, in a moment of extraordinary confidence, I bare my teeth. It tips him over the edge. He cries out and stills, and I can feel warm, salty liquid oozing down my throat. I swallow quickly. Ugh… I’m not sure about this. But one look at him, and he’s come apart in the bath because of me, and I don’t care. I sit back and watch him, a triumphant, gloating smile tugging at the corners of my lips. His breathing is ragged. Opening his eyes, he glares at me.
“Don’t you have a gag reflex?” he asks, astonished. “Christ, Ana… that was… good, really good, unexpected though.” He frowns. “You know, you never cease to amaze me.”
I smile and consciously bite my lip. He eyes me speculatively. “Have you done that before?”
“No.” And I can’t help the small tinge of pride in my denial.
“Good,” he says complacently and, I think, relieved. “Yet another first, Miss Steele.” He looks appraisingly at me. “Well, you get an A in oral skills. Come, let’s go to bed, I owe you an orgasm.”
Orgasm! Another one!
Quickly, he clambers out of the bath, giving me my first full glimpse of the Adonis, di- vinely formed, that is Christian Grey. My inner goddess has stopped dancing and is staring too, mouth open and drooling slightly. His erection tamed, but still substantial… wow. He wraps a small towel around his waist, covering the essentials, and holds out a larger fluffy white towel for me. Climbing out of the bath, I take his proffered hand. He wraps me in
the towel, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I long to reach round and embrace him… touch him… but he has my arms trapped in the towel. I’m soon lost in his kiss. He cradles my head, his tongue exploring my mouth, and I get a sense he’s expressing his gratitude – maybe – for my first blowjob? Whoa?
He pulls away, his hands on either side of my face, staring intently into my eyes. He looks lost.
“Say yes,” he whispers fervently. I frown, not understanding.
“To what?”
“Yes to our arrangement. To being mine. Please, Ana,” he whispers, emphasizing the last word and my name, pleading. He kisses me again, sweetly, passionately, before he stands back and stares at me, blinking slightly. He takes my hand and leads me back to his bedroom, leaving me reeling, so I follow him meekly. Stunned. He really wants this.
In his bedroom, he stares down at me as we stand by his bed.
“Trust me?” he asks suddenly. I nod, wide-eyed with the sudden realization that I do trust him. What’s he going to do to me now? An electric thrill hums through me.
“Good girl,” he breathes, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. He steps away into his closet and comes back with a silver-grey silk woven tie.
“Knit your hands together in front of you,” he orders as he peels the towel off me and throws it on the floor.
I do as he asks, and he binds my wrists together with his tie, knotting it firmly. His eyes are bright with wild excitement. He tugs at the binding. It’s secure. Some boy scout he must have been to learn these knots. What now? My pulse has gone through the roof, my heart beating a frantic tattoo. He runs his fingers down my pigtails.
“You look so young with these,” he murmurs and moves forward. Instinctively, I move back until I feel the bed against the back of my knees. He drops his towel, but I can’t take my eyes off his face. His expression is ardent, full of desire.
“Oh, Anastasia, what shall I do to you?” he whispers as he lowers me on to the bed, lying beside me, and raising my hands above my head.
“Keep your hands up here, don’t move them, understand?” His eyes burn into mine, and I’m breathless from their intensity. This is not a man I want to cross… ever.
“Answer me,” he demands, his voice soft. “I won’t move my hands.” I’m breathless.
“Good girl,” he murmurs and deliberately licks his lips slowly. I’m mesmerized by his tongue as it sweeps slowly over his upper lip. He’s staring into my eyes, watching me, appraising. He leans down and plants a chaste, swift kiss on my lips.
“I’m going to kiss you all over, Miss Steele,” he says softly, and he cups my chin, push- ing it up giving him access to my throat. His lips glide down my throat, kissing, sucking, and nipping, to the small dip at the base of my neck. My body leaps to attention… every- where. My recent bath experience has made my skin hyper-sensitive. My heated blood pools low in my belly, between my legs, right down there. I groan.
I want to touch him. I move my hands and rather awkwardly, given I’m restrained, feel his hair. He stops kissing me and glares up at me, shaking his head from side to side, tutting as he does. He reaches for my hands and places them above my head again.
“Don’t move your hands, or we just have to start all over again,” he scolds me mildly.
Oh, he’s such a tease.
“I want to touch you.” My voice is all breathy and out of control.
“I know,” he murmurs. “Keep your hands above your head,” he orders, his voice forceful.
He cups my chin again and starts to kiss my throat as before. Oh… he’s so frustrating. His hands run down my body and over my breasts as he reaches the dip at the base of my neck with his lips. He swirls the tip of his nose around it then begins a very leisurely cruise with his mouth, heading south, following the path of his hands, down my sternum to my breasts. Each one is kissed and nipped gently and my nipples tenderly sucked. Holy crap. My hips start swaying and moving of their own accord, grinding to the rhythm of his mouth on me, and I’m desperately trying to remember to keep my hands above my head.
“Keep still,” he warns, his breath warm against my skin. Reaching my navel, he dips his tongue inside, and then gently grazes my belly with his teeth. My body bows off the bed.
“Hmm. You are so sweet, Miss Steele.” His nose glides along the line between my belly and my pubic hair, biting me gently, teasing me with his tongue. Sitting up suddenly, he kneels at my feet, grasping both my ankles and spreading my legs wide.
Holy shit. He grabs my left foot, bends my knee, and brings my foot up to his mouth. Watching and assessing my every reaction, he tenderly kisses each of my toes then bites each one of them softly on the pads. When he reaches my little toe, he bites harder, and I convulse, whimpering. He glides his tongue up my instep – and I can no longer watch him. It’s too erotic. I’m going to combust. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to absorb and man- age all the sensations he’s creating. He kisses my ankle and trails kisses up my calf to my knee, stopping just above. He then starts on my right foot, repeating the whole, seductive, mind-blowing process.
“Oh, please,” I moan as he bites my little toe, the action resonating deep in my belly. “All good things, Miss Steele,” he breathes.
This time he doesn’t stop at my knee, he continues up the inside of my thigh, pushing my thighs apart as he does. And I know what he’s going to do, and part of me wants to push him off because I’m mortified and embarrassed. He’s going to kiss me there! I know it. And part of me is glorying in the anticipation. He turns to my other knee and kisses his way up my thigh, kissing, licking, sucking, and then he’s between my legs, running his nose up and down my sex, very softly, very gently. I writhe… oh my.
He stops, waiting for me to calm. I do and raise my head to gaze at him, my mouth open as my pounding heart struggles to come out.
“Do you know how intoxicating you smell, Miss Steele?” he murmurs, and keeping his eyes on mine, he pushes his nose into my pubic hair and inhales.
I flush scarlet, everywhere, feeling faint, and I instantly close my eyes. I can’t watch him do that!
He blows gently up the length of my sex. Oh fuck…
“I like this.” He gently tugs at my pubic hair. “Perhaps we’ll keep this.” “Oh… please,” I beg.
“Hmm, I like it when you beg me, Anastasia.”
I groan.
“Tit for tat is not my usual style, Miss Steele,” he whispers as he gently blows up and down me. “But you’ve pleased me today, and you should be rewarded.” I hear the wicked grin in his voice, and while my body is singing from his words, his tongue starts to slowly circle my clitoris as his hands hold down my thighs.
“Aargh!” I moan as my body bows and convulses at the touch of his tongue.
He swirls his tongue round and round, again and again, keeping up the torture. I’m losing all sense of self, every atom of my being concentrating hard on that small, potent powerhouse at the apex of my thighs. My legs go rigid, and he slips his finger inside me, and I hear his growling groan.
“Oh, baby. I love that you’re so wet for me.”
He moves his finger in a wide circle, stretching me, pulling at me, his tongue mirroring his actions, round and round, I groan. It is too much… My body begs for relief, and I can no longer deny it. I let go, losing all cogent thought as my orgasm seizes me, wringing my insides again and again. Holy fuck. I cry out, and the world dips and disappears from view as the force of my climax renders everything null and void.
I am panting and vaguely hear the rip of foil. Very slowly he eases into me and starts to move. Oh… my. The feeling is sore and sweet, and bold and gentle all at once.
“How’s this?” he breathes.
“Fine. Good,” I breathe. And he really starts to move, fast, hard, and large, thrusting into me over and over, implacable, pushing me and pushing me until I am close to the edge again. I whimper.
“Come for me, baby.” His voice is harsh, hard, raw at my ear, and I explode around him as he pounds rapidly into me.
“Thank fuck,” he whispers, and he thrusts hard once more and groans as he reaches his climax, pressing himself into me. Then he stills, his body rigid.
Collapsing on top of me, I feel his full weight forcing me into the mattress. I pull my tied hands over his neck and hold him the best I can. I know in that moment that I would do anything for this man. I am his. The wonder that he’s introduced me to, it’s beyond anything I could have imagined. And he wants to take it further, so much further, to a place I can’t, in my innocence, even imagine. Oh… what to do?
He leans up on his elbows and stares down at me, gray eyes intense.
“See how good we are together,” he murmurs. “If you give yourself to me, it will be so much better. Trust me, Anastasia, I can take you places you don’t even know exist.” His words echo my thoughts. He strokes his nose against mine. I am still reeling from my extraordinary physical reaction to him, and I gaze up at him blankly, grasping for a coher- ent thought.
Suddenly we both become aware of voices in the hall outside his bedroom door. It takes a moment to process what I can hear.
“But if he’s still in bed, then he must be ill. He’s never in bed at this time. Christian never sleeps in.”
“Mrs. Grey, please.”
“Taylor. You cannot keep me from my son.” “Mrs. Grey, he’s not alone.”
“What do you mean he’s not alone?” “He has someone with him.”
“ Oh… ” Even I hear the disbelief in her voice.
Christian blinks rapidly, staring down at me, wide-eyed with humored horror. “Shit! It’s my mother.”

He pulls out of me suddenly. I wince. He sits up on the bed and throws the used condom in a wastebasket.
“Come on, we need to get dressed – that’s if you want to meet my mother.” He grins, leaps up off the bed, and pulls on his jeans, no underwear! I struggle to sit up as I’m still tethered.
“Christian – I can’t move.”
His grin widens, and leaning down, he undoes the tie. The woven pattern has made an indented pattern around my wrists. It’s… sexy. He gazes at me. He’s amused, his eyes dancing with mirth. He kisses my forehead quickly and beams at me.
“Another first,” he acknowledges, but I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I have no clean clothes in here.” I am filled with sudden panic, and considering what I’ve just experienced, I’m finding the panic overwhelming. His mother! Holy crap. I have no clean clothes, and she’s practically walked in on us in flagrante delicto. “Perhaps I should stay here.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Christian threatens. “You can wear something of mine.” He’s slipped on a white t-shirt and runs his hand through his just-fucked hair. In spite of my anxiety, I lose my train of thought. Will I ever get used to looking at this beautiful man? His beauty is derailing.
“Anastasia, you could be wearing a sack and you’d look lovely. Please don’t worry. I’d like you to meet my mother. Get dressed. I’ll just go and calm her down.” His mouth presses into a hard line. “I will expect you in that room in five minutes, otherwise I’ll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you’re wearing. My t-shirts are in this drawer. My shirts are in the closet. Help yourself.” He eyes me speculatively for a moment, then leaves the room.
Holy shit. Christian’s mother. This is so much more than I bargained for. Perhaps meeting her will help put a little part of the jigsaw in place. Might help me understand why Christian is the way he is… Suddenly, I want to meet her. I pull my shirt off the floor, and I’m pleased to discover that it has survived the night well with hardly any creases. I find my blue bra under the bed and dress quickly. But if there’s one thing I hate, it’s not wearing clean panties. I rifle through Christian’s chest of drawers and come across his boxer briefs. After pulling on a pair of tight gray Calvin Kleins, I tug on my jeans and my Converse.
Grabbing my jacket, I dash into the bathroom and stare at my too-bright eyes, my flushed face – and my hair! Holy crap… just-fucked pigtails do not suit me either. I hunt in the vanity unit for a brush and find a comb. It will have to do. A ponytail is the only answer. I despair at my clothes. Maybe I should take Christian up on his offer of clothes. My subconscious purses her lips and mouths the word ‘ho’. I ignore her. Struggling into my jacket, pleased that the cuffs cover the tell-tale patterns from his tie, I take a last anxious glance at myself in the mirror. This will have to do. I make my way into the main living room.
“Here she is.” Christian stands from where he’s lounging on the couch.
His expression is warm and appreciative. The sandy-haired woman beside him turns and beams at me, a full megawatt smile. She stands too. She’s impeccably attired in a camel-colored fine knit sweater dress with matching shoes. She looks groomed, elegant, beautiful, and inside I die a little, knowing I look such a mess.
“Mother, this is Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, this is Grace Trevelyan-Grey.” Dr. Trevelyan-Grey holds her hand out to me. T… for Trevelyan?
“What a pleasure to meet you,” she murmurs. If I’m not mistaken, there is wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice and a warm glow in her hazel eyes. I grasp her hand, and I can’t help but smile, returning her warmth.
“Dr. Trevelyan-Grey,” I murmur.
“Call me Grace,” she grins, and Christian frowns. “I am usually Dr. Trevelyan, and Mrs. Grey is my mother-in-law.” She winks. “So how did you two meet?” She looks ques- tioningly at Christian, unable to hide her curiosity.
“Anastasia interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I’m conferring the degrees there this week.”
Double crap. I’d forgotten that.
“So you are graduating this week?” Grace asks. “Yes.”
My cell phone starts ringing. Kate, I bet.
“Excuse me.” It’s in the kitchen. I wander over and lean across the breakfast bar, not checking the number.
“Kate.”
“Dios mio! Ana!” Holy crap, it’s José. He sounds desperate. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to contact you. I need to see you, to apologize for my behavior on Friday. Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
“Look José, now’s not a good time.” I glance anxiously over at Christian who’s watch- ing me intently, his face impassive as he murmurs something to his mom. I turn my back to him.
“Where are you? Kate is being so evasive,” he whines. “I’m in Seattle.”
“What are you doing in Seattle? Are you with him?” “José, I’ll call you later. I can’t talk to you now.” I hang up.
I walk as nonchalantly back to Christian and his mother. Grace is in full flow.
“… And Elliot called to say you were around – I haven’t seen you for two weeks, darling.”
“Did he now?” Christian murmurs, gazing at me, his expression unreadable.
“I thought we might have lunch together, but I can see you have other plans, and I don’t want to interrupt your day.” She gathers up her long cream coat and turns to him, offering him her cheek. He kisses her briefly, sweetly. She doesn’t touch him.
“I have to drive Anastasia back to Portland.”
“Of course, darling. Anastasia, it’s been such a pleasure. I do hope we meet again.” She holds her hand out to me, her eyes glowing, and we shake.
Taylor appears from… where?
“Mrs. Grey?” he asks.
“Thank you, Taylor.” He escorts her from the room and through the double doors to the foyer. Taylor was here the whole time? How long has he been here? Where has he been?
Christian glares at me.
“So the photographer called?”
Crap.
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“Just to apologize, you know – for Friday.” Christian narrows his eyes.
“I see,” he says simply. Taylor reappears.
“Mr. Grey, there’s an issue with the Darfur shipment.” Christian nods curtly at him.
“Charlie Tango back at Boeing Field?” “Yes sir.”
Taylor nods at me. “Miss Steele.”
I smile tentatively back at him, and he turns and leaves. “Does he live here? Taylor?”
“Yes.” His tone is clipped. What is his problem?
Christian heads over to the kitchen and picks up his BlackBerry, scrolling through some emails, I assume. His mouth presses in a hard line, and he makes a call.
“Ros, what’s the issue?” he snaps. He listens, watching me, gray eyes speculative, as I stand in the middle of the huge room wondering what to do with myself, feeling extraor- dinarily self-conscious and out of place.
“I’m not having either crew put at risk. No, cancel… We’ll air drop instead… Good.” He hangs up. The warmth in his eyes has disappeared. He looks forbidding, and with one quick glance at me, he heads into his study and returns a moment later.
“This is the contract. Read it, and we’ll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest you do some research, so you know what’s involved.” He pauses. “That’s if you agree, and I really hope you do.” He adds, his tone softer, anxious.
“Research?”
“You’ll be amazed what you can find on the Internet,” he murmurs.
Internet! I don’t have access to a computer, only Kate’s laptop, and I couldn’t use Clay- ton’s, not for this sort of ‘research’ surely?
“What is it?” he asks, cocking his head to one side.
“I don’t have a computer. I’ll see if I can use Kate’s laptop.” He hands me a manila envelope.
“I’m sure I can… err, lend you one. Grab your things, we’ll drive back to Portland and grab some lunch on the way. I need to dress.”
“I’ll just make a call,” I murmur. I just want to hear Kate’s voice. He frowns.
“The photographer?” His jaw clenches, and his eyes burn. I blink at him. “I don’t like to share, Miss Steele. Remember that.” His quiet, chilling tone is a warning, and with one long, cold look at me, he heads back to the bedroom.
Holy crap. I just wanted to call Kate, I want to call after him, but his sudden aloofness has left me paralyzed. What happened to the generous, relaxed, smiling man who was making love to me not half an hour ago?“Ready?” Christian asks as we stand by the double doors to the foyer.
I nod uncertainly. He’s resumed his distant, polite, uptight persona, his mask back up and on show. He’s carrying a leather messenger bag. Why does he need that? Perhaps he’s staying in Portland, and then I remember graduation. Oh yes… he’ll be there on Thursday. He’s wearing a black leather jacket. He certainly doesn’t look like the multi-multi million- aire, billionaire, what-ever-aire, in these clothes. He looks like a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, maybe a badly behaved rock star or a catwalk model. I sigh inwardly, wish- ing I had a tenth of his poise. He’s so calm and controlled. I frown, recalling his outburst about José… Well, he seems to be.
Taylor is hovering in the background. “Tomorrow then,” he says to Taylor who nods. “Yes sir. Which car are you taking, sir?”
He looks down at me briefly. “The R8.”
“Safe trip, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele.” Taylor looks kindly at me, though perhaps there’s a hint of pity hidden in the depths of his eyes.
No doubt he thinks I’ve succumbed to Mr. Grey’s dubious sexual habits. Not yet, just his exceptional sexual habits, or perhaps sex is like that for everyone. I frown at the
thought. I have no comparison, and I can’t ask Kate. That’s something I am going to have to address with Christian. It’s perfectly natural that I should talk to someone – and I can’t talk to him if he is so open one minute and so standoffish the next.
Taylor holds the door open for us and ushers us through. Christian summons the eleva-
tor.
“What is it, Anastasia?” he asks. How does he know I’m chewing something over in
my mind? He reaches up and pulls my chin.
“Stop biting your lip, or I will fuck you in the elevator, and I don’t care who gets in with us.”
I blush, but there’s a hint of a smile around his lips, finally his mood seems to be shift-
ing.

“Christian, I have a problem.” “Oh?” I have his full attention.
The elevator arrives. We walk in, and Christian presses the button marked G.
“Well,” I flush. How to say this? “I need to talk to Kate. I’ve so many questions about
sex, and you’re too involved. If you want me to do all these things, how do I know–?” I pause, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t have any terms of reference.”
He rolls his eyes at me.
“Talk to her if you must.” He sounds exasperated. “Make sure she doesn’t mention anything to Elliot.”
I bristle at his insinuation. Kate isn’t like that.
“She wouldn’t do that, and I wouldn’t tell you anything she tells me about Elliot – if she were to tell me anything,” I add quickly.
“Well, the difference is that I don’t want to know about his sex life,” Christian mur- murs dryly. “Elliot’s a nosy bastard. But only about what we’ve done so far,” he warns. “She’d probably have my balls if she knew what I wanted to do to you,” he adds so softly I’m not sure I’m supposed to hear it.
“Okay,” I agree readily, smiling up at him, relieved. The thought of Kate with Chris- tian’s balls is not something I want to dwell on.
His lip quirks up at me, and he shakes his head.
“The sooner I have your submission the better, and we can stop all this,” he murmurs. “Stop all what?”
“You, defying me.” He reaches down and cups my chin and plants a swift, sweet kiss on my lips as the doors to the elevator open. He grabs my hand and leads me into the un- derground garage.
Me, defying him… how?
Beside the elevator, I can see the black 4×4 Audi, but it’s the sleek, black sporty num- ber that blips open and lights up when he points the key fob at it. It’s one of those cars that should have a very leggy blonde, wearing nothing but a sash, sprawled across the hood.
“Nice car,” I murmur dryly. He glances up and grins.
“I know,” he says, and for a split second, sweet, young, carefree Christian is back. It warms my heart. He’s so excited. Boys and their toys. I roll my eyes at him but can’t stifle
my smile. He opens the door for me and I climb in. Whoa… it’s low. He moves round the car with easy grace and folds his long frame elegantly in beside me. How does he do that?
“So what sort of car is this?”
“It’s an Audi R8 Spyder. It’s a lovely day, we can take the top down. There’s a baseball cap in there. In fact there should be two.” He points to the glove box. “And sunglasses if you want them.”
He starts the ignition, and the engine roars behind us. He places his bag in the space behind our seats, presses a button, and the roof slowly reclines. With the flick of a switch, Bruce Springsteen surrounds us.
“Gotta love Bruce,” he grins at me and eases the car out of the parking space, and up the steep ramp where we pause for the barrier.
Then we’re out into the bright Seattle May morning. I reach into the glove box and retrieve the baseball caps. The Mariners. He likes baseball? I pass him a cap, and he puts it on. I pass my ponytail through the back of mine and pull the peak down low.
People stare at us as we drive through the streets. For a moment, I think it’s at him… and then a very paranoid part thinks everyone is looking at me because they know what I’ve been doing during the last twelve hours, but finally, I realize it’s the car. Christian seems oblivious, lost in thought.
The traffic is light and we’re soon on the I-5 heading south, the wind sweeping over our heads. Bruce is singing about being on fire and his desire. How apt. I flush as I listen to the words. Christian glances at me. He’s got his Ray-Bans on so I can’t see what he’s thinking. His mouth twitches slightly, and he reaches across and places his hand on my knee, squeezing gently. My breath hitches.
“Hungry?” he asks.
Not for food.
“Not particularly.”
His mouth tightens into that hard line.
“You must eat, Anastasia,” he chides. “I know a great place near Olympia. We’ll stop there.” He squeezes my knee again, and then returns his hand to the steering wheel as he puts his foot down on the gas. I’m pressed into the back of my seat. Boy this car can move.

The restaurant is small and intimate, a wooden chalet in the middle of a forest. The décor is rustic: random chairs and tables with gingham tablecloths, wild flowers in little vases. Cuisine Sauvage, it boasts above the door.
“I’ve not been here for a while. We don’t get a choice – they cook whatever they’ve caught or gathered.” He raises his eyebrows in mock horror, and I have to laugh. The waitress takes our drinks order. She flushes when she sees Christian, avoiding eye contact with him, hiding under her long blonde bangs. She likes him! It’s not just me!
“Two glasses of the Pinot Grigio,” Christian says with a voice of authority. I purse my lips, exasperated.
“What?” he snaps.
“I wanted a Diet Coke,” I whisper.
His gray eyes narrow, and he shakes his head.
“The Pinot Grigio here’s a decent wine, it will go well with the meal, whatever we get.” He says patiently.
“Whatever we get?”
“Yes.” He smiles, his dazzling, head cocked to one side smile, and my stomach pole vaults over my spleen. I can’t help but reflect his glorious smile back at him.
“My mother liked you,” he says dryly.
“Really?” His words make me flush with pleasure. “Oh yes. She’s always thought I was gay.”
My mouth drops open, and I remember that question… from the interview. Oh no.
“Why did she think you were gay?” I whisper. “Because she’s never seen me with a girl.” “Oh… not even one of the fifteen?”
He smiles.
“You remembered. No, none of the fifteen.” “Oh.”
“You know, Anastasia, it’s been a weekend of firsts for me, too,” he says quietly. “It has?”
“I’ve never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother. What are you doing to me?” His eyes burn, their intensity takes my breath away.
The waitress arrives with our glasses of wine, and I immediately take a quick sip. Is he opening up or just making a casual observation?
“I’ve really enjoyed this weekend,” I murmur. He narrows his eyes at me again. “Stop biting that lip,” he growls. “Me too,” he adds.
“What’s vanilla sex?” I ask, if anything to distract myself from the intense, burning, sexy look he’s giving me. He laughs.
“Just straightforward sex, Anastasia. No toys, no added extras.” He shrugs. “You know… well actually you don’t, but that’s what it means.”
“Oh.” I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on the top. But hey, what do I know?
The waitress brings us soup. We both stare at it rather dubiously.
“Nettle soup,” the waitress informs us before turning and flouncing back into the kitch- en. I don’t think she likes to be ignored by Christian. I take a tentative taste. It’s delicious. Christian and I look up at each other at the same time with relief. I giggle, and he cocks his head to one side.
“That’s a lovely sound,” he murmurs.
“Why have you never had vanilla sex before? Have you always done… err, what you’ve done?” I ask, intrigued.
He nods slowly.
“Sort of.” His voice is wary. He frowns for a moment and seems to be engaged in some kind of internal struggle. Then he glances up, a decision made. “One of my mother’s friends seduced me when I was fifteen.”
“Oh.” Holy shit that’s young!
“She had very particular tastes. I was her submissive for six years.” He shrugs.
“Oh.” My brain has frozen, stunned into inactivity by this admission. “So I do know what it involves, Anastasia.” His eyes glow with insight.
I stare at him, unable to articulate anything – even my subconscious is silent. “I didn’t really have a run-of-the-mill introduction to sex.”
Curiosity kicks in big time.
“So you never dated anyone at college?”
“No.” He shakes his head to emphasize the point.
The waitress takes our plates, interrupting us for a moment. “Why?” I ask when she’s gone.
He smiles sardonically.
“Do you really want to know?” “Yes.”
“I didn’t want to. She was all I wanted, needed. And besides, she’d have beaten the shit out of me.” He smiles fondly at the memory.
Oh, this is way too much information – but I want more. “So if she was a friend of your mother’s, how old was she?” He smirks.
“Old enough to know better.” “Do you still see her?” “Yes.”
“Do you still… err… ?” I flush.
“No.” He shakes his head and smiles indulgently at me. “She’s a very good friend.” “Oh. Does your mother know?”
He gives me a don’t-be-stupid stare. “Of course not.”
The waitress returns with venison, but my appetite has vanished. What a revelation. Christian the submissive… Holy shit. I take a large slug of Pinot Grigio – he’s right, of course, it’s delicious. Jeez, all these revelations, it’s so much to think about. I need time to process this, when I’m on my own, not when I’m distracted by his presence. He’s so overwhelming, so Alpha Male, and now he’s thrown this bombshell into the equation. He knows what it’s like.
“But it can’t have been full time?” I’m confused.
“Well, it was, though I didn’t see her all the time. It was… difficult. After all, I was still at school and then at college. Eat up, Anastasia.”
“I’m really not hungry, Christian.” I am reeling from your disclosure.
His expression hardens.
“Eat,” he says quietly, too quietly.
I stare at him. This man – sexually abused as an adolescent – his tone is so threatening. “Give me a moment,” I mutter quietly. He blinks a couple of times.
“Okay,” he murmurs, and he continues with his meal.
This is what it will be like if I sign, him ordering me around. I frown. Do I want this?
Reaching for my knife and fork, I tentatively cut into the venison. It’s very tasty.
“Is this what our err… relationship will be like?” I whisper. “You, ordering me around?” I can’t quite bring myself to look at him.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I see.”
“And what’s more, you’ll want me to,” he adds, his voice low.
I sincerely doubt that. I slice another piece of venison, holding it against my mouth. “It’s a big step,” I murmur and eat.
“It is.” He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they are wide and grave. “Anastasia, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract – I’m happy to discuss any aspect. I’ll be in Portland until Friday if you want to talk about it before then.” His words are coming at me in a rush. “Call me – maybe we can have dinner – say, Wednesday? I really want to make this work. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this to work.”
His burning sincerity, his longing, is reflected in his eyes. This is fundamentally what I don’t grasp. Why me? Why not one of the fifteen? Oh no… Will that be me – a number? Sixteen of many?
“What happened to the fifteen?” I blurt.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking his head.
“Various things, but it boils down to,” he pauses, struggling to find the words I think. “Incompatibility.” He shrugs.
“And you think that I might be compatible with you?” “Yes.”
“So you’re not seeing any of them anymore?”
“No, Anastasia, I’m not. I am monogamous in my relationships.” Oh… this is news.
“I see.”
“Do the research, Anastasia.”
I put my knife and fork down. I cannot eat any more. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to eat?”
I nod. He scowls at me but chooses not to say anything. I breathe a small sigh of relief. My stomach is churning with all this new information, and I’m feeling a little lightheaded from the wine. I watch as he devours everything on his plate. He eats like a horse. He must work out to stay in such great shape. The memory of the way his PJ’s hung from his hips comes unbidden to my mind. The image is totally distracting. I squirm uncomfort- ably. He glances up at me, and I blush.
“I’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right at this moment,” he murmurs.
I blush further.
He smiles a wicked smile at me. “I can guess,” he teases softly.
“I’m glad you can’t read my mind.”
“Your mind, no, Anastasia, but your body – that I’ve got to know quite well since yesterday.” His voice is suggestive. How does he switch so quickly from one mood to the next? He’s so mercurial… It’s hard to keep up.
He motions for the waitress and asks for the check. Once he’s paid, he stands and holds out his hand.
“Come.” Taking my hand in his, he leads me back to the car. This contact, flesh to flesh, it’s what is so unexpected from him, normal, intimate. I can’t reconcile this ordinary, tender gesture with what he wants to do in that room… The Red Room of Pain.
We are quiet on the drive from Olympia to Vancouver, both lost in our own thoughts. When he parks outside my apartment, it’s five in the evening. The lights are on – Kate is at home. Packing, no doubt, unless Elliot is still there. He switches off the engine, and I realize I’m going to have to leave him.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask. I don’t want him to go. I want to prolong our time together.
“No. I have work to do,” he says simply, gazing at me, his expression unfathomable. I stare down at my hands, as I knot my fingers together. Suddenly I feel emotional.
He’s leaving. Reaching over, he takes one of my hands and slowly pulls it to his mouth, tenderly kissing the back of my hand, such an old fashioned, sweet gesture. My heart leaps into my mouth.
“Thank you for this weekend, Anastasia. It’s been… the best. Wednesday? I’ll pick you up from work, from wherever?” he says softly.
“Wednesday,” I whisper.
He kisses my hand again and places it back in my lap. He climbs out, comes round to my side, and opens the passenger door. Why do I feel suddenly bereft? A lump forms in my throat. I must not let him see me like this. Fixing a smile on my face, I clamber out of the car and head up the path, knowing I have to face Kate, dreading facing Kate. I turn and gaze at him midway. Chin up Steele, I chide myself.
“Oh… by the way, I’m wearing your underwear.” I give him a small smile and pull up the waistband of the boxer briefs I’m wearing so he can see. Christian’s mouth drops open, shocked. What a great reaction. My mood shifts immediately, and I sashay into the house, part of me wanting to jump and punch the air. YES! My inner goddess is thrilled.
Kate is in the living area packing up her books into crates.
“You’re back. Where’s Christian? How are you?” Her voice is fevered, anxious, and she bounds up to me, grabbing my shoulders, minutely analyzing my face before I’ve even said hello.
Crap… I have to deal with Kate’s persistence and tenacity, and I’m in possession of a legal signed document saying I can’t talk. It’s not a healthy mix.
“Well how was it? I couldn’t stop thinking about you, after Elliot left, that is.” She grins mischievously.
I can’t help but smile at her concern and her burning curiosity, but suddenly I feel shy. I blush. It was very private. All of it. Seeing and knowing what Christian has to hide. But I have to give her some details, because she won’t leave me alone until I do.
“It was good, Kate. Very good, I think,” I say quietly, trying to hide my embarrassed tell-all smile.
“You think?”
“I’ve got nothing to compare it to, do I?” I shrug apologetically. “Did he make you come?”
Holy crap. She’s so blunt. I go scarlet. “Yes,” I mumble, exasperated.
Kate pulls me to the couch and we sit. She clasps my hands.
“That is good.” Kate looks at me in disbelief. “It was your first time. Wow, Christian must really know what he’s doing.”
Oh Kate, if only you knew.
“My first time was horrid,” she continues, making a sad comedy face. “Oh?” This has me interested, something she’s never divulged before.
“Yes, Steve Paton. High school, dickless jock.” She shudders. “He was rough. I wasn’t ready. We were both drunk. You know – typical teenage post-prom disaster. Ugh
– it took me months before I decided to have another go. And not with him, the gutless wonder. I was too young. You were right to wait.”
“Kate, that sounds awful.” Kate looks wistful.
“Yeah, took almost a year to have my first orgasm through penetrative sex and here you are… first time?”
I nod shyly. My inner goddess sits in the lotus position looking serene except for the sly, self-congratulatory smile on her face.
“I’m glad you lost it to someone who knows their ass from their elbow.” She winks at me. “So when are you seeing him again?”
“Wednesday. We’re having dinner.” “So you still like him?”
“Yes. But I don’t know about… the future.” “Why?”
“He’s complicated, Kate. You know – he inhabits a very different world to mine.” Great excuse. Believable too. Much better than – he’s got a Red Room of Pain, and he wants to make me his sex slave.
“Oh please, don’t let this be about money, Ana. Elliot said it’s very unusual for Chris- tian to date anyone.”
“Did he?” My voice hitches up several octaves.
Too obvious, Steele! My subconscious glares at me, wagging her long skinny finger, then morphs into the scales of justice to remind me he could sue if I disclose too much. Ha… what’s he going to do – take all my money? I must remember to Google ‘penalties for breaching a non-disclosure agreement’ while I’m doing the rest of my ‘research’. It’s like I’ve been given a school assignment. Maybe I’ll be graded. I flush, remembering my A for this morning’s bath experiment.
“Ana, what is it?”
“I’m just remembering something Christian said.” “You look different,” Kate says fondly.
“I feel different. Sore,” I confess. “Sore?”
“A little.” I flush.
“Me too. Men,” she says in mock disgust. “They’re animals.” We both laugh. “You’re sore?” I exclaim.
“Yes… overuse.” I giggle.
“Tell me about Elliot the over-user,” I ask when I’ve stopped giggling. Oh, I can feel myself relaxing for the first time since I was in line at the bar… before the phone call that started all this – when I was admiring Mr. Grey from afar. Happy uncomplicated days.
Kate blushes. Oh my… Katherine Agnes Kavanagh goes all Anastasia Rose Steele on me. She gives me a dewy-eyed look. I’ve never seen her react this way to a man before. My jaw drops to the floor. Where’s Kate, what have you done with her?
“Oh, Ana,” she gushes. “He’s just so… Everything. And when we… oh… really good.” She can hardly string a sentence together she’s got it so bad.
“I think you’re trying to tell me that you like him.” She nods, grinning like a lunatic.
“And I’m seeing him on Saturday. He’s going to help us move.” She clasps her hands together, leaps up off the couch, and pirouettes to the window. Moving. Crap – I’d forgot- ten all about that, even with the packing cases surrounding us.
“That’s helpful of him,” I say appreciatively. I can get to know him too. Perhaps he can give me more insight into his strange, disturbing brother.
“So what did you do last night?” I ask. She cocks her head at me and raises her eye- brows in a what-do-think-stupid-look.
“Pretty much what you did, though we had dinner first.” She grins at me. “Are you okay really? You look kind of overwhelmed.”
“I feel overwhelmed. Christian is very intense.”
“Yeah, I could see how he could be. But he was good to you?” “Yes,” I reassure her. “I’m really hungry, shall I cook?”
She nods and picks up two more books to pack.
“What do you want to do with the fourteen thousand dollar books?” she asks. “I’m going to return them to him.”
“Really?”
“It’s a completely over-the-top gift. I can’t accept it, especially now.” I grin at Kate, and she nods.
“I understand. A couple of letters came for you, and José has been calling every hour on the hour. He sounded desperate.”
“I’ll call him,” I mutter evasively. If I tell Kate about José, she’ll have him for break- fast. I collect the letters from the dining table and open them.
“Hey, I have interviews! The week after next, in Seattle, for intern placements!” “For which publishing house?”
“For both of them!”
“I told you your GPA would open doors, Ana.”
Kate, of course, already has an internship set up at the Seattle Times. Her father knows someone, who knows someone.
“How does Elliot feel about you going away?” I ask.
Kate wanders into the kitchen, and for the first time this evening, she’s disconsolate. “He’s understanding. Part of me doesn’t want to go, but it’s tempting to lie in the sun
for a couple of weeks. Besides, Mom is hanging in there, thinking this will be our last real family holiday before Ethan and I head off into the world of paid employment.”
I have never left continental US. Kate is off to Barbados with her parents and her brother Ethan for two whole weeks. I’ll be Kateless in our new apartment. That will be weird. Ethan has been traveling the world since he graduated last year. I wonder briefly if I’ll see him before they go on vacation. He’s such a lovely guy. The phone rings, jolting me from my reverie.
“That’ll be José.”
I sigh. I know I have to talk to him. I grab the phone. “Hi.”
“Ana, you’re back!” José shouts his relief at me.
“Obviously.” Sarcasm drips from my voice, and I roll my eyes at the phone. He’s silent for a moment.
“Can I see you? I’m sorry about Friday night. I was drunk… and you… well. Ana – please forgive me.”
“Of course, I forgive you José. Just don’t do it again. You know I don’t feel like that about you.”
He sighs heavily, sadly.
“I know, Ana. I just thought, if I kissed you, it might change how you feel.”
“José, I love you dearly, you mean so much to me. You’re like the brother I never had.
That’s not going to change. You know that.” I hate to let him down, but it’s the truth. “So you’re with him now?” His tone is full of disdain.
“José, I’m not with anybody.”
“But you spent the night with him.” “That’s none of your business!”
“Is it the money?”
“José! How dare you!” I shout, staggered by his audacity.
“Ana,” he whines and apologizes simultaneously. I cannot deal with his petty jealousy now. I know he’s hurt, but my plate is overflowing dealing with Christian Grey.
“Maybe we can have a coffee or something tomorrow. I’ll call you.” I am conciliatory.
He is my friend, and I’m very fond of him. But right now, I don’t need this. “Tomorrow then. You’ll call?” The hope in his voice twists my heart. “Yes… goodnight, José.” I hang up, not waiting for his response.
“What was that all about?” Katherine demands, her hands on her hips. I decide hon- esty is the policy. She’s looking more intractable than ever.
“He made a pass at me on Friday.”
“José? And Christian Grey? Ana, your pheromones must be working overtime. What was the stupid fool thinking?” She shakes her head in disgust and returns to packing crates. Forty-five minutes later, we pause our packing for the house specialty, my lasagna.
Kate opens a bottle of wine, and we sit amongst the boxes eating, quaffing cheap red wine, and watching crap TV. This is normality. It’s so grounding and welcome after the last forty-eight hours of… madness. I eat my first unhurried, no nagging, peaceful meal in that time. What is it about him and food? Kate clears the dishes, and I finish packing up the living room. We are left with the couch, the TV, and the dining table. What more could we need? Just the kitchen and our bedrooms left to pack up, and we have the rest of the week. Result!
The phone rings again. It’s Elliot. Kate winks at me and skips off to her bedroom like she’s fourteen. I know that she should be writing her Valedictorian speech, but it seems El- liot is more important. What is it about the Grey men? What is it that makes them totally distracting, all-consuming, and irresistible? I take another slug of wine.
I flick through the TV channels, but deep down I know I’m procrastinating. Burning a bright red hole in the side of my purse is that contract. Do I have the strength and the wherewithal to read it tonight?
I put my head in my hands. José and Christian, they both want something from me. José is easy to deal with. But Christian… Christian takes a whole different league of han- dling, of understanding. Part of me wants to run and hide. What am I going to do? His burning gray eyes and that intense smoldering stare come into my mind’s eye, and my body tightens at the thought. I gasp. He’s not even here, and I’m turned on. It just can’t be about sex, can it? I recall his gentle banter this morning at breakfast, his joy at my delight with the helicopter ride, him playing the piano – the sweet soulful oh-so-sad music.
He’s such a complicated person. And now I have an insight as to why. A young man deprived of his adolescence, sexually abused by some evil Mrs. Robinson figure… no wonder he’s old before his time. My heart fills with sadness at the thought of what he must have been through. I’m too naïve to know exactly what, but the research should shed some light. But do I really want to know? Do I want to explore this world I know nothing about? It’s such a big step.
If I’d not met him, I’d still be sweetly and blissfully oblivious. My mind drifts to last night, and this morning… and the incredible, sensual sexuality I’ve experienced. Do I want to say goodbye to that? No! Screams my subconscious… my inner goddess nods in silent zen-like agreement with her.
Kate wanders back into the living room, grinning from ear to ear. Perhaps she’s in love – I gape at her. She’s never behaved like this.
“Ana, I’m off to bed. I’m pretty tired.” “Me too, Kate.”
She hugs me.
“I’m glad you’re back in one piece. There’s something about Christian,” she adds qui- etly, apologetically. I give her a small, reassuring smile – all the while thinking… How the hell does she know? This is what will make her a great journalist, her unfaltering intuition. Collecting my purse, I wander listlessly into my bedroom. I am weary from all our carnal exertions of the last day and from the complete and utter dilemma that I’m faced with. I sit on my bed and gingerly extract the manila envelope from the bag, turning it over and over in my hands. Do I really want to know the extent of Christian’s depravity? It’s so daunting. I take a deep breath, and with my heart in my throat, I rip open the envelope.

There are several papers inside the envelope. I fish them out, my heart still pounding, and I sit back on my bed and begin to read.
CONTRACT
Made this day of 2011 (“The Commencement Date”)
BETWEEN
MR. CHRISTIAN GREY of 301 Escala, Seattle, WA 98889 (“The Dominant”)
MISS ANASTASIA STEELE of 1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven Heights,
Vancouver, WA 98888 (“The Submissive”)
THE PARTIES AGREE AS FOLLOWS
The following are the terms of a binding contract between the Dominant and the Submissive.
FUNDAMENTAL TERMS
The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the Submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits and her wellbeing.
The Dominant and the Submissive agree and acknowledge that all that occurs under the terms of this contract will be consensual, confidential, and subject to the agreed limits and safety procedures set out in this contract. Additional limits and safety pro- cedures may be agreed in writing.
The Dominant and the Submissive each warrant that they suffer from no sexual, serious, infectious or life-threatening illnesses including but not limited to HIV, Her- pes and Hepatitis. If during the Term (as defined below) or any extended term of this contract either party should be diagnosed with or become aware of any such illness he or she undertakes to inform the other immediately and in any event prior to any form of physical contact between the parties.
Adherence to the above warranties, agreements and undertakings (and any addition- al limits and safety procedures agreed under clause 3 above) are fundamental to this contract. Any breach shall render it void with immediate effect and each party agrees to be fully responsible to the other for the consequence of any breach.
Everything in this contract must be read and interpreted in the light of the fundamen- tal purpose and the fundamental terms set out in clauses 2-5 above.
ROLES
The Dominant shall take responsibility for the wellbeing and the proper training, guidance, and discipline of the Submissive. He shall decide the nature of such train- ing, guidance, and discipline and the time and place of its administration, subject to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above.
If at any time the Dominant should fail to keep to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above the Submissive is entitled to terminate this contract forthwith and to leave the service of the Dominant without notice.
Subject to that proviso and to clauses 2-5 above the Submissive is to serve and obey the Dominant in all things. Subject to the agreed terms, limitations and safety pro- cedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above she shall without query or hesitation offer the Dominant such pleasure as he may require and she shall accept without query or hesitation his training, guidance and discipline in whatever form it may take.
COMMENCEMENT AND TERM
The Dominant and Submissive enter into this contract on The Commencement Date fully aware of its nature and undertake to abide by its conditions without exception.
This contract shall be effective for a period of three Calendar Months from The Commencement Date (“The Term”). On the expiry of The Term the parties shall dis- cuss whether this contract and the arrangements they have made under this contract are satisfactory and whether the needs of each party have been met. Either party may pro- pose the extension of this contract subject to adjustments to its terms, or to the arrange- ments they have made under it. In the absence of agreement to such extension this contract shall terminate and both parties shall be free to resume their lives separately. AVAILABILITY
The Submissive will make herself available to the Dominant from Friday evenings through to Sunday afternoons each week during the Term at times to be specified by the Dominant (“the Allotted Times”). Further allocated time can be mutually agreed on an ad hoc basis.
The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The Submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant subject only to the Submissive’s rights under clauses 2-5 and 8 above.
LOCATION
The Submissive will make herself available during the Allotted Times and agreed additional times at locations to be determined by the Dominant. The Dominant will ensure that all travel costs incurred by the Submissive for that purpose are met by the Dominant.
SERVICE PROVISIONS
The following service provisions have been discussed and agreed and will be ad- hered to by both parties during the Term. Both parties accept that certain matters may arise which are not covered by the terms of this contract or the service provisions, or that certain matters may be renegotiated. In such circumstance further clauses may be proposed by way of amendment. Any further clauses or amendments must be agreed, documented and signed by both parties and shall be subject to the fundamental terms set out at clauses 2-5 above.
DOMINANT
The Dominant shall make the Submissive’s health and safety a priority at all times. The Dominant shall not at any time require, request, allow or demand the Sub- missive to participate at the hands of the Dominant in the activities detailed in Ap- pendix 2 or in any act that either party deems to be unsafe. The Dominant will not undertake or permit to be undertaken any action which could cause serious injury or any risk to the Submissive’s life. The remaining sub-clauses of this clause 15 are to be read subject to this proviso and to the fundamental matters agreed in clauses 2-5 above.
The Dominant accepts the Submissive as his, to own, control, dominate and dis- cipline during the Term. The Dominant may use the Submissive’s body at any time during the Allotted Times or any agreed additional times in any manner he deems fit, sexually or otherwise.
The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with all necessary training and guid- ance in how to properly serve the Dominant.
The Dominant shall maintain a stable and safe environment in which the Submis- sive may perform her duties in service of the Dominant.
The Dominant may discipline the Submissive as necessary to ensure the Sub- missive fully appreciates her role of subservience to the Dominant and to discourage unacceptable conduct. The Dominant may flog, spank, whip or corporally punish the Submissive as he sees fit, for purposes of discipline, for his own personal enjoyment, or for any other reason, which he is not obliged to provide.
In training and in the administration of discipline the Dominant shall ensure that no permanent marks are made upon the Submissive’s body nor any injuries incurred that may require medical attention.
In training and in the administration of discipline the Dominant shall ensure that the discipline and the instruments used for the purposes of discipline are safe, shall not be used in such a way as to cause serious harm and shall not in any way exceed the limits defined and detailed in this contract.
In case of illness or injury the Dominant shall care for the Submissive, seeing to her health and safety, encouraging and when necessary ordering medical attention when it is judged necessary by the Dominant.
The Dominant shall maintain his own good health and seek medical attention when necessary in order to maintain a risk-free environment
The Dominant shall not loan his Submissive to another Dominant.
The Dominant may restrain, handcuff, or bind the Submissive at any time dur- ing the Allotted Times or any agreed additional times for any reason and for extended periods of time, giving due regard to the health and safety of the Submissive.
The Dominant will ensure that all equipment used for the purposes of training and discipline shall be maintained in a clean, hygienic and safe state at all times. SUBMISSIVE
The Submissive accepts the Dominant as her master, with the understanding that she is now the property of the Dominant, to be dealt with as the Dominant pleases during the Term generally but specifically during the Allotted Times and any additional agreed allotted times.
The Submissive shall obey the rules (“the Rules”) set out in Appendix 1 to this agreement.
The Submissive shall serve the Dominant in any way the Dominant sees fit and shall endeavor to please the Dominant at all times to the best of her ability.
The Submissive shall take all measures necessary to maintain her good health and shall request or seek medical attention whenever it is needed, keeping the Domi- nant informed at all times of any health issues that may arise.
The Submissive will ensure that she procures oral contraception and ensure that she takes it as and when prescribed to prevent any pregnancy.
The Submissive shall accept without question any and all disciplinary actions deemed necessary by the Dominant and remember her status and role in regard to the Dominant at all times.
The Submissive shall not touch or pleasure herself sexually without permission from the Dominant.
The Submissive shall submit to any sexual activity demanded by the Dominant and shall do without hesitation or argument.
The Submissive shall accept whippings, floggings, spankings, caning, paddling or any other discipline the Dominant should decide to administer, without hesitation, enquiry or complaint.
The Submissive shall not look directly into the eyes of the Dominant except when specifically instructed to do so. The Submissive shall keep her eyes cast down and maintain a quiet and respectful bearing in the presence of the Dominant.
The Submissive shall always conduct herself in a respectful manner to the Dom- inant and shall address him only as Sir, Mr. Grey, or such other title as the Dominant may direct.
The Submissive will not touch the Dominant without his express permission to do so.
ACTIVITIES
The Submissive shall not participate in activities or any sexual acts that either party deems to be unsafe or any activities detailed in Appendix 2.
The Dominant and the Submissive have discussed the activities set out in Appendix 3 and recorded in writing on Appendix 3 their agreement in respect of them.
SAFEWORDS
The Dominant and the Submissive recognize that the Dominant may make demands of the Submissive that cannot be met without incurring physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, or other harm at the time the demands are made to the Submissive. In such circumstances related to this, the Submissive may make use of a safeword (“The Safe- word (s)”). Two Safewords will be invoked depending on the severity of the demands. 19 The Safeword “Yellow” will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the Submissive is close to her limit of endurance.
The Safeword “Red” will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the Submissive cannot tolerate any further demands. When this word is said the Domi- nant’s action will cease completely with immediate effect.
CONCLUSION
We the undersigned have read and understood fully the provisions of this contract. We freely accept the terms of this contract and have acknowledged this by our signa- tures below.The Dominant: Christian Grey Date

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Fifty Shades Freed Extended Version
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