Fifty Shades Freed Extended Version

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 

Nearly two hours later, I come to bed. It’s just after 1:45. She’s fast asleep and hasn’t moved from where I left her. I strip, pull on my PJ pants and a T-shirt, and climb in beside her. She’s comatose; it’s unlikely she’s going to thrash around and touch me. I hesitate for a moment as the darkness swells within me, but it doesn’t surface and I know it’s because I’m watching the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest and I’m breathing in sync with her. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. For seconds, minutes, hours, I don’t know, I watch her. And while she sleeps I survey every beautiful inch of her lovely face. Her dark lashes fluttering while she sleeps, her lips slightly parted so I glimpse her even white teeth. She mutters something unintelligible and her tongue darts out and licks her lips. It’s arousing, very arousing. Finally I fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.

IT’S QUIET WHEN I open my eyes, and I’m momentarily disoriented. Oh yes. I’m at The Heathman. The clock at my bedside says 7:43.

When was the last time I slept this late?

Ana.

Slowly I turn my head, and she’s fast asleep, facing me. Her beautiful face soft in repose.

I have never slept with a woman. I’ve fucked many, but to wake up beside an alluring young woman is a new and stimulating experience. My cock agrees.

This will not do.

Reluctantly, I climb out of bed and change into my running gear. I need to burn off this…excess energy. As I change into my sweats I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.

In the living room, I fire up my laptop, check my e-mail, and respond to two from Ros and one from Andrea. It takes me a little longer than usual¸ as I’m distracted knowing that Ana is asleep in the next room. I wonder how she’ll feel when she wakes.

Hungover. Ah.

In the minibar I find a bottle of orange juice and empty it into a glass. She’s still asleep when I enter, her hair a riot of mahogany spread across her pillow, and the covers have slipped below her waist. Her T-shirt has ridden up, exposing her belly and her navel. The sight stirs my body once more.

Stop standing here ogling the girl, for fuck’s sake, Grey.

I have to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret. Placing the glass on the bedside table, I duck into the bathroom, find two Advil in my travel kit, and deposit them beside the glass of orange juice.

With one last lingering look at Anastasia Steele-the first woman I’ve ever slept with-I head out for my run.

WHEN I RETURN FROM my exercise, there’s a bag in the living room from a store I don’t recognize. I take a peek and see it contains clothes for Ana. From what I can see, Taylor has done well-and all before 9:00.

The man is a marvel.

Her purse is on the sofa where I dropped it last night, and the door to the bedroom is closed, so I assume she’s not left and that she’s still asleep.

It’s a relief. Poring over the room-service menu, I decide to order some food. She’ll be hungry when she wakes, but I have no idea what she’ll eat, so in a rare moment of indulgence I order a selection from the breakfast menu. I’m informed it will take half an hour.

Time to wake the delectable Miss Steele; she’s slept enough.

Grabbing my workout towel and the shopping bag, I knock on the door and enter. To my delight, she’s sitting up in bed. The tablets are gone and so is the juice.

Good girl.

She pales as I saunter into the room.

Keep it casual, Grey. You don’t want to be charged with kidnapping.

She closes her eyes, and I assume it’s because she’s embarrassed.

“Good morning, Anastasia. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I deserve,” she mutters, as I place the bag on the chair. When she turns her gaze to me her eyes are impossibly big and blue, and though her hair is a tangled mess…she looks stunning.

“How did I get here?” she asks, as though she’s afraid of the answer.

Reassure her, Grey.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and stick to the facts. “After you passed out, I didn’t want to risk the leather upholstery in my car, taking you all the way to your apartment. So I brought you here.”

“Did you put me to bed?”

“Yes.”

“Did I throw up again?”

“No.” Thank God.

“Did you undress me?”

“Yes.” Who else would have undressed you?

She blushes, and at last she has some color in her cheeks. Perfect teeth bite down on her lip. I suppress a groan.

“We didn’t-?” she whispers, staring at her hands.

Christ, what kind of animal does she think I am?

“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing.” My tone is dry. “I like my women sentient and receptive.” She sags with relief, which makes me wonder if this has happened to her before, that she’s passed out and woken up in a stranger’s bed and found out he’s fucked her without her consent. Maybe that’s the photographer’s modus operandi. The thought is disturbing. But I recall her confession last night-that she’d never been drunk before. Thank God she hasn’t made a habit of this.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice full of shame.

Hell. Maybe I should go easy on her.

“It was a very diverting evening. Not one that I’ll forget in a while.” I hope that sounds conciliatory, but her brow creases.

“You didn’t have to track me down with whatever James Bond gadgetry you’re developing for the highest bidder.”

Whoa! Now she’s pissed. Why?

“First, the technology to track cell phones is available over the Internet.”

Well, the Deep Net…

“Second, my company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices.”

My temper is fraying, but I’m on a roll. “And third, if I hadn’t come to get you, you’d probably be waking up in the photographer’s bed, and from what I can remember, you weren’t overly enthused about him pressing his suit.”

She blinks a couple of times, then starts giggling.

She’s laughing at me again.

“Which medieval chronicle did you escape from? You sound like a courtly knight.”

She’s beguiling. She’s calling me out…again, and her irreverence is refreshing, really refreshing. However, I’m under no illusion that I’m a knight in shining armor. Boy, has she got the wrong idea. And though it may not be to my advantage, I’m compelled to warn her that there’s nothing chivalrous or courtly about me. “Anastasia, I don’t think so. Dark knight, maybe.” If only she knew-and why are we discussing me? I change the subject. “Did you eat last night?”

She shakes her head.

I knew it!

“You need to eat. That’s why you were so ill. Honestly, it’s drinking rule number one.”

“Are you going to continue to scold me?”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“I think so.”

“You’re lucky I’m just scolding you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn’t eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk.” The fear in my gut surprises me; such irresponsible, risk-taking behavior. “I hate to think what could have happened to you.”

She scowls. “I would have been fine. I was with Kate.”

Some help she was!

“And the photographer?” I retort.

“José just got out of line,” she says, dismissing my concern and tossing her tangled hair over her shoulder.

“Well, the next time he gets out of line, maybe someone should teach him some manners.”

“You’re quite the disciplinarian,” she snaps.

“Oh, Anastasia, you have no idea.”

An image of her shackled to my bench, peeled gingerroot inserted in her ass so she can’t clench her buttocks, comes to mind, followed by judicious use of a belt or strap. Yeah…That would teach her not to be so irresponsible. The thought is hugely appealing.

She’s staring at me wide-eyed and dazed, and it makes me uncomfortable. Can she read my mind? Or is she just looking at a pretty face.

“I’m going to have a shower. Unless you’d like to shower first?” I tell her, but she continues to gape. Even with her mouth open she’s quite lovely. She’s hard to resist, and I grant myself permission to touch her, tracing the line of her cheek with my thumb. Her breath catches in her throat as I stroke her soft bottom lip.

“Breathe, Anastasia,” I murmur, before I stand and inform her that breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes. She says nothing, her smart mouth silent for once.

In the bathroom I take a deep breath, strip, and climb into the shower. I’m half tempted to jerk off, but the familiar fear of discovery and disclosure, from an earlier time in my life, stops me.

Elena would not be pleased.

Old habits.

As the water cascades over my head I reflect on my latest interaction with the challenging Miss Steele. She’s still here, in my bed, so she cannot find me completely repulsive. I noticed the way her breath caught in her throat, and how her gaze followed me around the room.

Yeah. There’s hope.

But would she make a good submissive?

It’s obvious she knows nothing of the lifestyle. She couldn’t even say “fuck” or “sex” or whatever bookish college students use as a euphemism for fucking these days. She’s quite the innocent. She’s probably been subjected to a few fumbling encounters with boys like the photographer.

The thought of her fumbling with anyone irks me.

I could just ask her if she’s interested.

No. I’d have to show her what she’d be taking on if she agreed to a relationship with me.

Let’s see how we both fare over breakfast.

Rinsing off the soap, I stand beneath the hot stream and gather my wits for round two with Anastasia Steele. I switch off the water and, stepping out of the shower, grab a towel. A quick check in the steamed-up mirror and I decide to skip shaving today. Breakfast will be here shortly, and I’m hungry. Quickly I brush my teeth.

When I open the bathroom door she’s out of bed and searching for her jeans. She looks up like the archetypal startled fawn, all long legs and big eyes.

“If you’re looking for your jeans, I’ve sent them to the laundry.” She really has great legs. She shouldn’t hide them in pants. Her eyes narrow, and I think she’s going to argue with me, so I tell her why. “They were spattered with your vomit.”

“Oh,” she says.

Yes. “Oh.” Now, what do you have to say to that, Miss Steele?

“I sent Taylor out for another pair and some shoes. They’re in the bag on the chair.” I nod at the shopping bag.

She raises her eyebrows-in surprise, I think. “Um. I’ll have a shower,” she mutters, and then as an afterthought she adds, “Thanks.”

Grabbing the bag, she dodges around me, darts into the bathroom, and locks the door.

Hmm…she couldn’t get into the bathroom quick enough.

Away from me.

Perhaps I’m being too optimistic.

Disheartened, I briskly dry off and get dressed. In the living room I check my e-mail, but there’s nothing urgent. I’m interrupted by a knock on the door. Two young women have arrived from room service.

“Where would you like breakfast, sir?”

“Set it up on the dining table.”

Walking back into the bedroom, I catch their furtive looks, but I ignore them and suppress the guilt I feel over how much food I’ve ordered. We’ll never eat it all.

“Breakfast is here,” I call, and rap on the bathroom door.

“O-okay.” Ana’s voice sounds a little muted.

Back in the living room, our breakfast is on the table. One of the women, who has dark, dark eyes, hands me the check to sign, and from my wallet I pull a couple of twenties for them.

“Thank you, ladies.”

“Just call room service when you want the table cleared, sir,” Miss Dark Eyes says with a coquettish look, as if she’s offering more.

My chilly smile warns her off.

Sitting down at the table with the newspaper, I pour myself a coffee and make a start on my omelet. My phone buzzes-a text from Elliot.

Kate wants to know if Ana is still alive.

I chuckle, somewhat mollified that Ana’s so-called friend is thinking about her. It’s obvious that Elliot hasn’t given his dick a rest after all his protestations yesterday. I text back.

Alive and kicking 😉

Ana appears a few moments later: hair wet, in the pretty blue blouse that matches her eyes. Taylor has done well; she looks lovely. Scanning the room, she spots her purse.

“Crap, Kate!” she blurts.

“She knows you’re here and still alive. I texted Elliot.”

She gives me an uncertain smile as she walks toward the table.

“Sit,” I say, pointing to the place that’s been set for her. She frowns at the amount of food on the table, which only accentuates my guilt.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu,” I mutter by way of an apology.

“That’s very profligate of you,” she says.

“Yes, it is.” My guilt blooms. But as she opts for the pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon with maple syrup, and tucks in, I forgive myself. It’s good to see her eat.

“Tea?” I ask.

“Yes, please,” she says between mouthfuls. She’s obviously famished. I pass her the small teapot of water. She gives me a sweet smile when she notices the Twinings English Breakfast tea.

I have to catch my breath at her expression. And it makes me uneasy.

It gives me hope.

“Your hair’s very damp,” I observe.

“I couldn’t find the hair dryer,” she says, embarrassed.

She’ll get sick.

“Thank you for the clothes,” she adds.

“It’s a pleasure, Anastasia. That color suits you.”

She stares down at her fingers.

“You know, you really should learn to take a compliment.”

Perhaps she doesn’t get many…but why? She’s gorgeous in an understated way.

“I should give you some money for these clothes.”

What?

I glare at her, and she continues quickly, “You’ve already given me the books, which, of course, I can’t accept. But these, please let me pay you back.”

Sweetheart.

“Anastasia, trust me, I can afford it.”

“That’s not the point. Why should you buy these for me?”

“Because I can.” I’m a very rich man, Ana.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean that you should.” Her voice is soft, but suddenly I’m wondering if she’s looked through me and seen my darkest desires. “Why did you send me the books, Christian?”

Because I wanted to see you again, and here you are…

“Well, when you were nearly run over by the cyclist-and I was holding you and you were looking up at me-all ‘kiss me, kiss me, Christian’-” I stop, recalling that moment, her body pressed against mine. Shit. Quickly I shrug off the memory. “I felt I owed you an apology and a warning. Anastasia, I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of man. I don’t do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear of me. There’s something about you, though, and I’m finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you’ve figured that out already.”

“Then don’t,” she whispers.

What?

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

Her words travel straight to my cock.

Fuck.

“You’re not celibate?” she asks.

“No, Anastasia, I’m not celibate.” And if you’d let me tie you up I’d prove it to you right now.

Her eyes widen and her cheeks pink.

Oh, Ana.

I have to show her. It’s the only way I’ll know. “What are your plans for the next few days?” I ask.

“I’m working today, from midday. What time is it?” she exclaims in panic.

“It’s just after ten; you’ve plenty of time. What about tomorrow?”

“Kate and I are going to start packing. We’re moving to Seattle next weekend, and I’m working at Clayton’s all this week.”

“You have a place in Seattle already?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I can’t remember the address. It’s in the Pike Market District.”

“Not far from me.” Good! “So what are you going to do for work in Seattle?”

“I’ve applied for some internships. I’m waiting to hear.”

“Have you applied to my company, as I suggested?”

“Um…no.”

“And what’s wrong with my company?”

“Your company or your company?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?” I can’t hide my amusement.

Oh, she’d be a joy to train…challenging, maddening woman.

She examines her plate, chewing at her lip.

“I’d like to bite that lip,” I whisper, because it’s true.

Her face flies to mine and she shuffles in her seat. She tilts her chin toward me, her eyes full of confidence. “Why don’t you?” she says quietly.

Oh. Don’t tempt me, baby. I can’t. Not yet.

“Because I’m not going to touch you, Anastasia-not until I have your written consent to do so.”

“What does that mean?” she asks.

“Exactly what I say. I need to show you, Anastasia.” So you know what you’re getting yourself into. “What time do you finish work this evening?”

“About eight.”

“Well, we could go to Seattle this evening or next Saturday for dinner at my place, and I’ll acquaint you with the facts then. The choice is yours.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because I’m enjoying my breakfast and your company. Once you’re enlightened, you probably won’t want to see me again.”

She frowns as she processes what I’ve said. “Tonight,” she says.

Whoa. That didn’t take long.

“Like Eve, you’re so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge,” I taunt her.

“Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” she asks.

I look at her through narrowed eyes.

Okay, baby, you asked for this.

I pick up my phone and press Taylor on speed dial. He answers almost immediately.

“Mr. Grey.”

“Taylor. I’m going to need Charlie Tango.”

She watches me closely as I make arrangements to bring my EC135 to Portland.

I’ll show her what I have in mind…and the rest will be up to her. She may want to come home once she knows. I’ll need Stephan, my pilot, to be on standby so he can bring her back to Portland if she decides to have nothing more to do with me. I hope that’s not the case.

And it dawns on me that I’m thrilled that I can take her to Seattle in Charlie Tango.

It’ll be a first.

“Standby pilot from 22:30,” I confirm with Taylor and hang up.

“Do people always do what you tell them?” she asks, and the disapproval in her voice is obvious. Is she scolding me now? Her challenge is annoying.

“Usually, if they want to keep their jobs.” Don’t question how I treat my staff.

“And if they don’t work for you?” she adds.

“Oh, I can be very persuasive, Anastasia. You should finish your breakfast. And then I’ll drop you off at home. I’ll pick you up at Clayton’s at eight when you finish. We’ll fly up to Seattle.”

“Fly?”

“Yes. I have a helicopter.”

Her mouth drops open, forming a small o. It’s a pleasing moment.

“We’ll go by helicopter to Seattle?” she whispers.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.” I grin. Sometimes it’s just fucking great to be me. “Finish your breakfast.”

She seems stunned.

“Eat!” My voice is more forceful. “Anastasia, I have an issue with wasted food. Eat.”

“I can’t eat all this.” She studies all the food on the table and I feel guilty once more. Yes, there is too much food here.

“Eat what’s on your plate. If you’d eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be declaring my hand so soon.”

Hell. This could be a huge mistake.

She gives me a sideways look as she chases her food around on the plate with a fork, and her mouth twitches.

“What’s so funny?”

She shakes her head and pops the last piece of pancake into her mouth, and I try not to laugh. As ever, she surprises me. She’s awkward, unexpected, and disarming. She really makes me want to laugh, and what’s more, it’s at myself.

“Good girl,” I mutter. “I’ll take you home when you’ve dried your hair. I don’t want you getting ill.”

You’ll need all your strength for tonight, for what I have to show you.

Suddenly, she gets up from the table and I have to stop myself from telling her that she doesn’t have permission.

She’s not your submissive…yet, Grey.

On the way back to the bedroom, she pauses by the sofa.

“Where did you sleep last night?” she asks.

“In my bed.” With you.

“Oh.”

“Yes, it was quite a novelty for me, too.”

“Not having…sex.”

She said the s-word…and the telltale pink cheeks appear.

“No.”

How can I tell her this, without it sounding weird?

Just tell her, Grey.

“Sleeping with someone.” Nonchalantly, I turn my attention back to the sports section and the write-up on last night’s game, then watch as she disappears into the bedroom.

No, that didn’t sound weird at all.

Well, I have another date with Miss Steele. No, not a date. She needs to know about me. I let out a long breath and drink what’s left of my orange juice. This is shaping up to be a very interesting day. I’m pleased when I hear the buzz of the hair dryer and surprised that she’s doing what she’s been told.

While I’m waiting for her, I phone the valet to bring my car up from the garage and check her address once more on Google Maps. Next, I text Andrea to send me an NDA via e-mail; if Ana wants enlightenment, she’ll need to keep her mouth shut. My phone buzzes. It’s Ros.

As I’m on the phone, Ana emerges from the bedroom and picks up her purse. Ros is talking about Darfur, but my attention is on Miss Steele. She rummages around in her purse and she’s pleased when she finds a hair tie.

Her hair is beautiful. Lush. Long. Thick. Idly, I wonder what it would be like to braid. She ties it back and puts on her jacket, then sits down on the sofa, waiting for me to finish my call.

“Okay, let’s do it. Keep me abreast of progress.” I conclude my conversation with Ros. She’s been working miracles and it looks like our food shipment to Darfur is happening.

“Ready to go?” I ask Ana. She nods. I grab my jacket and car keys and follow her out the door. She peeks at me through long lashes as we walk toward the elevator, and her lips curl into a shy smile. My lips twitch in response.

What the hell is she doing to me?

The elevator arrives, and I allow her to step in first. I press the first-floor button and the doors close. In the confines of the elevator, I’m completely aware of her. A trace of her sweet fragrance invades my senses…Her breathing alters, hitching a little, and she peeks up at me with a bright come-hither look.

Shit.

She bites her lip.

She’s doing this on purpose. And for a split second I’m lost in her sensual, mesmerizing stare. She doesn’t back down.

I’m hard.

Instantly.

I want her.

Here.

Now.

In the elevator.

“Oh, fuck the paperwork.” The words come from nowhere and on instinct I grab her and push her against the wall. Clasping both her hands, I pin them above her head so she can’t touch me, and once she’s secure, I twist my other hand in her hair while my lips seek and find hers.

She moans into my mouth, the call of a siren, and finally I can sample her: mint and tea and an orchard of mellow fruitfulness. She tastes every bit as good as she looks. Reminding me of a time of plenty. Good Lord. I’m yearning for her. I grasp her chin, deepening the kiss, and her tongue tentatively touches mine…exploring. Considering. Feeling. Kissing me back.

Oh, God in heaven.

“You. Are. So. Sweet,” I murmur against her lips, completely intoxicated, punch-drunk with her scent and taste.

The elevator stops and the doors begin to open.

Get a fucking grip, Grey.

I push myself off her and stand beyond her reach.

She’s breathing hard.

As am I.

When was the last time I lost control?

Three men in business suits give us knowing looks as they join us.

And I stare at the poster that’s above the buttons in the elevator advertising a sensual weekend at The Heathman. I glance at Ana and exhale.

She grins.

And my lips twitch once more.

What the fuck has she done to me?

The elevator stops at the second floor and the guys get out, leaving me alone with Miss Steele.

“You’ve brushed your teeth,” I observe with wry amusement.

“I used your toothbrush,” she says, eyes shining.

Of course she has…and for some reason, I find this pleasing, too pleasing. I stifle my smile. “Oh, Anastasia Steele, what am I going to do with you?” I take her hand as the elevator doors open on the ground floor, and I mutter under my breath, “What is it about elevators?” She gives me a knowing look as we stroll across the polished marble of the lobby.

The car is waiting in one of the bays in front of the hotel; the valet is pacing impatiently. I give him an obscene tip and open the passenger door for Ana, who is quiet and introspective.

But she hasn’t run.

Even though I jumped her in the elevator.

I should say something about what happened in there-but what?

Sorry?

How was that for you?

What the hell are you doing to me?

I start the car and decide that the less said, the better. The soothing sound of Delibes’s “Flower Duet” fills the car and I begin to relax.

“What are we listening to?” Ana inquires, as I turn onto Southwest Jefferson Street. I tell her and ask her if she likes it.

“Christian, it’s wonderful.”

To hear my name on her lips is a strange delight. She’s said it about half a dozen times now, and each time it’s different. Today, it’s with wonder-at the music. It’s great that she likes this piece: it’s one of my favorites. I find myself beaming; she’s obviously excused me for the elevator outburst.

“Can I hear that again?”

“Of course.” I tap the touch screen to replay the music.

“You like classical music?” she asks, as we cross the Fremont Bridge, and we fall into an easy conversation about my taste in music. While we’re talking I get a call on the hands-free.

“Grey,” I answer.

“Mr. Grey, it’s Welch here. I have the information you require.” Oh yes, details about the photographer.

“Good. E-mail it to me. Anything to add?”

“No, sir.”

I press the button and the music is back. We both listen, now lost in the raw sound of the Kings of Leon. But it doesn’t last long-our listening pleasure is disturbed once more by the hands-free.

What the hell?

“Grey,” I snap.

“The NDA has been e-mailed to you, Mr. Grey.”

“Good. That’s all, Andrea.”

“Good day, sir.”

I sneak a look at Ana, to see if she’s picked up on that conversation, but she’s studying the Portland scenery. I suspect she’s being polite. It’s difficult to keep my eyes on the road. I want to stare at her. For all her maladroitness, she has a beautiful neckline, one that I’d like to kiss from the bottom of her ear right down to her shoulder.

Hell. I shuffle in my seat. I hope she agrees to sign the NDA and to take what I have to offer.

When we join I-5 I get another call.

It’s Elliot.

“Hi, Christian, d’you get laid?”

Oh…smooth, dude, smooth.

“Hello, Elliot-I’m on speakerphone, and I’m not alone in the car.”

“Who’s with you?”

“Anastasia Steele.”

“Hi, Ana!”

“Hello, Elliot,” she says, animated.

“Heard a lot about you,” Elliot says.

Shit. What has he heard?

“Don’t believe a word Kate says,” she responds good-naturedly.

Elliot laughs.

“I’m dropping Anastasia off now. Shall I pick you up?” I interject.

There’s no doubt Elliot will want to make a quick getaway.

“Sure.”

“See you shortly.” I hang up.

“Why do you insist on calling me Anastasia?” she asks.

“Because it’s your name.”

“I prefer Ana.”

“Do you, now?”

“Ana” is too everyday and ordinary for her. And too familiar. Those three letters have the power to wound…

And in that moment I know that her rejection, when it comes, will be hard to take. It’s happened before, but I’ve never felt this…invested. I don’t even know this girl, but I want to know her, all of her. Maybe it’s because I’ve never chased a woman.

Grey, get control of yourself and follow the rules, otherwise this will all go to shit.

“Anastasia,” I say, ignoring her disapproving look. “What happened in the elevator-it won’t happen again-well, not unless it’s premeditated.”

That keeps her quiet as I park outside her apartment. Before she can answer me I climb out of the car, walk around and open her door.

As she steps onto the sidewalk, she gives me a fleeting glance. “I liked what happened in the elevator,” she says.

You did? Her confession halts me in my tracks. I’m pleasantly surprised again by little Miss Steele. As she walks up the steps to the front door, I have to scramble to keep up with her.

Elliot and Kate look up when we enter. They’re sitting at a dining table in a sparsely furnished room, befitting a couple of students. There are a few packing boxes beside a bookshelf. Elliot looks relaxed and not in a hurry to leave, which surprises me.

Kavanagh jumps up and gives me a critical once-over as she hugs Ana.

What did she think I was going to do to the girl?

I know what I’d like to do to her…

As Kavanagh holds her at arm’s length I’m reassured; maybe she does care for Ana, too.

“Good morning, Christian,” she says, her tone cool and condescending.

“Miss Kavanagh.” And what I want to say is something sarcastic about how she’s finally showing some interest in her friend, but I hold my tongue.

“Christian, her name is Kate,” Elliot says with mild irritation.

“Kate,” I mutter, to be polite. Elliot hugs Ana, holding her for a moment too long.

“Hi, Ana,” he says, all fucking smiles.

“Hi, Elliot.” She beams.

Okay, this is becoming unbearable. “Elliot, we’d better go.” And take your hands off her.

“Sure,” he says, releasing Ana, but grabbing Kavanagh and making an unseemly show of kissing her.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Ana’s uncomfortable watching them. I don’t blame her. But when she turns to me it’s with a speculative look through narrowed eyes.

What is she thinking?

“Laters, baby,” Elliot mutters, slobbering over Kavanagh.

Dude, show some dignity, for heaven’s sake.

Ana’s reproachful eyes are on me, and for a moment I don’t know if it’s because of Elliot and Kate’s lascivious display or-

Hell! This is what she wants. To be courted and wooed.

I don’t do romance, sweetheart.

A lock of her hair has broken free, and without thinking, I tuck it behind her ear. She leans her face into my fingers, the tender gesture surprising me. My thumb strays to her soft bottom lip, which I’d like to kiss again. But I can’t. Not until I have her consent.

“Laters, baby,” I whisper, and her face softens with a smile. “I’ll pick you up at eight.” Reluctantly, I turn away and open the front door, Elliot behind me.

“Man, I need some sleep,” Elliot says, as soon as we’re in the car. “That woman is voracious.”

“Really…” My voice drips with sarcasm. The last thing I want is a blow-by-blow account of his assignation.

“How about you, hotshot? Did she pop your cherry?”

I give him a sideways “fuck off” glare.

Elliot laughs. “Man, you are one uptight son of a bitch.” He pulls his Sounders cap over his face and nestles down in his seat for a nap.

I turn up the volume of the music.

Sleep through that, Lelliot!

Yeah. I envy my brother: his ease with women, his ability to sleep…and the fact that he’s not the son of a bitch.

JOSÉ LUIS RODRIGUEZ’S BACKGROUND check reveals a ticket for possession of marijuana. There is nothing in his police records for sexual harassment. Maybe last night would have been a first if I hadn’t intervened. And the little prick smokes weed? I hope he doesn’t smoke around Ana-and I hope she doesn’t smoke, period.

Opening Andrea’s e-mail, I send the NDA to the printer in my study at home in Escala. Ana will need to sign it before I show her my playroom. And in a moment of weakness, or hubris, or perhaps unprecedented optimism-I don’t know which-I fill in her name and address on my standard Dom/sub contract and send that to print, too.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Hey, hotshot. Let’s go hiking,” Elliot says through the door.

Ah…the child has woken from his nap.

THE SCENT OF PINE, fresh damp earth, and late spring is a balm to my senses. The smell reminds me of those heady days of my childhood, running through a forest with Elliot and my sister Mia under the watchful eyes of our adoptive parents. The quiet, the space, the freedom…the scrunch of dry pine needles underfoot.

Here in the great outdoors I could forget.

Here was a refuge from my nightmares.

Elliot chatters away, needing only the occasional grunt from me to keep talking. As we make our way along the pebbled shore of the Willamette my mind strays to Anastasia. For the first time in a long time, I have a sweet sense of anticipation. I’m excited.

Will she say yes to my proposal?

I picture her sleeping beside me, soft and small…and my cock twitches with expectation. I could have woken her and fucked her then-what a novelty that would have been.

I’ll fuck her in time.

I’ll fuck her bound and with her smart mouth gagged.

CLAYTON’S IS QUIET. The last customer left five minutes ago. And I’m waiting-again-drumming my fingers on my thighs. Patience is not my forte. Even the long hike with Elliot today has not dampened my restlessness. He’s having dinner with Kate this evening at The Heathman. Two dates on consecutive nights is not his usual style.

Suddenly the fluorescent lights inside the store flicker off, the front door opens, and Ana steps out into a mild Portland evening. My heart begins to hammer. This is it: either the beginning of a new relationship or the beginning of the end. She waves good-bye to a young man who’s followed her out. It’s not the same man I met the last time I was here-it’s someone new. He watches her walk toward the car, his eyes on her ass. Taylor distracts me by making a move to climb out of the car, but I stop him. This is my call. When I’m out of the car holding the door open for her, the new guy is locking up the store and no longer ogling Miss Steele.

Her lips curve into a shy smile as she approaches, her hair in a jaunty ponytail swinging in the evening breeze.

“Good evening, Miss Steele.”

“Mr. Grey,” she says. She’s dressed in black jeans…Jeans again. She greets Taylor as she climbs into the backseat of the car.

Once I’m beside her I clasp her hand, while Taylor pulls out onto the empty road and heads to the Portland helipad. “How was work?” I ask, enjoying the feel of her hand in mine.

“Very long,” she says, her voice husky.

“Yes, it’s been a long day for me, too.”

It’s been hell waiting for the last couple of hours!

“What did you do?” she asks.

“I went hiking with Elliot.” Her hand is warm and soft. She glances down at our joined fingers and I brush her knuckles with my thumb over and over. Her breath catches and her eyes meet mine. In them I see her longing and desire…and her sense of anticipation. I just hope she accepts my proposition.

Mercifully, the drive to the helipad is short. When we’re out of the car I take her hand again. She looks a little perplexed.

Ah. She’s wondering where the helicopter might be.

“Ready?” I ask. She nods, and I lead her into the building toward the elevator. She gives me a quick knowing look.

She’s remembering the kiss from this morning, but then…so am I.

“It’s only three floors,” I mutter.

As we stand inside I make a mental note to fuck her in an elevator one day. That’s if she agrees to my deal.

On the roof Charlie Tango, newly arrived from Boeing Field, is prepped and ready to fly, though there’s no sign of Stephan, who’s brought her down here. But Joe, who runs the helipad in Portland, is in the small office. He salutes when I see him. He’s older than my grandpa, and what he doesn’t know about flying is not worth knowing; he flew Sikorskys in Korea for casualty evacuation, and boy, does he have some hair-raising stories.

“Here’s your flight plan, Mr. Grey,” Joe says, his gravelly voice betraying his age. “All external checks are done. She’s ready and waiting, sir. You’re good to go.”

“Thank you, Joe.”

A quick glance at Ana tells me that she’s excited…and so am I. This is a first.

“Let’s go.” With her hand in mine once more, I lead Ana over the helipad to Charlie Tango. The safest Eurocopter in her class and a delight to fly. She’s my pride and joy. I hold the door open for Ana; she scrambles inside and I climb in behind her.

“Over there,” I order, pointing to the front passenger seat. “Sit. Don’t touch anything.” I’m amazed when she does as she’s told.

Once in her seat, she examines the array of instruments with a mixture of awe and enthusiasm. Crouching down beside her, I strap her into the seat harness, trying not to imagine her naked as I do it. I take a little longer than is necessary because this might be my last chance to be this close to her, my last chance to inhale her sweet, evocative scent. Once she knows about my predilections she may flee…on the other hand, she may embrace the lifestyle. The possibilities this conjures in my mind are almost overwhelming. She’s watching me intently, she’s so close…so lovely. I tighten the last strap. She’s not going anywhere. Not for an hour at least.

Suppressing my excitement, I whisper, “You’re secure. No escaping.” She inhales sharply. “Breathe, Anastasia,” I add, and caress her cheek. Holding her chin, I lean down and kiss her quickly. “I like this harness,” I mutter. I want to tell her I have others, in leather, in which I’d like to see her trussed and suspended from the ceiling. But I behave, sit down, and buckle up.

“Put your cans on.” I point to the headset in front of Ana. “I’m just going through all the preflight checks.” All instruments look good. I press the throttle to 1500 rpm, transponder to stand-by, and position beacon on. Everything is set and ready to go.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asks with wonder. I inform her that I’ve been a fully qualified pilot for four years. Her smile is infectious.

“You’re safe with me,” I reassure her, and add, “Well, while we’re flying.” I give her a wink, she beams, and I’m dazzled.

“Are you ready?” I ask-and I can’t quite believe how excited I am to have her here beside me.

She nods.

I talk to the tower-they’re awake-and increase the throttle to 2000 rpm. Once they’ve given us clearance I do my final checks. Oil temperature is at 104. Good. I increase the manifold pressure to 14, the engine to 2500 rpm, and pull back on the throttle. And like the elegant bird she is…Charlie Tango rises into the air.

Anastasia gasps as the ground disappears below us, but she holds her tongue, entranced by the waning lights of Portland. Soon we are shrouded in darkness; the only light emanates from the instruments before us. Ana’s face is illuminated by the red and green glow as she stares into the night.

“Eerie, isn’t it?”

Though I don’t find it so. To me this is a comfort. Nothing can harm me here.

I’m safe and hidden in the dark.

“How do you know you’re going the right way?” Ana asks.

“Here.” I point to the panel. I don’t want to bore her talking about instrument flight rules, but the fact is it’s all the equipment in front of me that guides us to our destination: the attitude indicator, the altimeter, the VSI, and of course the GPS. I tell her about Charlie Tango, and how she’s equipped for night flight.

Ana looks at me, amazed.

“There’s a helipad on top of the building I live in. That’s where we’re heading.”

I look back at the panel, checking all the data. This is what I love: the control, my safety and well-being reliant on my mastery of the technology in front of me. “When you fly at night, you fly blind. You have to trust the instrumentation,” I tell her.

“How long will the flight be?” she asks, a little breathless.

“Less than an hour-the wind is in our favor.” I glance at her again. “You okay, Anastasia?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice oddly abrupt.

Is she nervous? Or maybe she’s regretting her decision to be here with me. The thought is unsettling. She hasn’t given me a chance. I’m distracted by air-traffic control for a moment. Then, as we clear cloud cover, I see Seattle in the distance, a beacon blazing in the dark.

“Look, over there.” I direct Ana’s attention to the bright lights.

“Do you always impress women this way? ‘Come and fly in my helicopter’?”

“I’ve never brought a girl up here, Anastasia. It’s another first for me. Are you impressed?”

“I’m awed, Christian,” she whispers.

“Awed?” My smile is spontaneous. And I remember Grace, my mother, stroking my hair as I read out loud from The Once and Future King.

“Christian, that was wonderful. I’m awed, darling boy.”

I was seven and had only recently started speaking.

“You’re just so…competent,” Ana continues.

“Why, thank you, Miss Steele.” My face warms with pleasure at her unexpected praise. I hope she doesn’t notice.

“You obviously enjoy this,” she says a little later.

“What?”

“Flying.”

“It requires control and concentration.” Two qualities I most enjoy. “How could I not love it? Though my favorite is soaring.”

“Soaring?”

“Yes. Gliding, to the layperson. Gliders and helicopters-I fly them both.”

Perhaps I should take her soaring?

Getting ahead of yourself, Grey.

And since when do you take anyone soaring?

Since when do I bring anyone in Charlie Tango?

ATC refocuses me on the flight path, halting my rogue thoughts as we approach the outskirts of Seattle. We’re close. And I’m closer to knowing whether this is a pipe dream or not. Ana is staring out the window, entranced.

I can’t keep my eyes off her.

Please say yes.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” I ask, so that she’ll turn and I can see her face. She does, with a huge cock-tightening grin. “We’ll be there in a few minutes,” I add.

Suddenly the atmosphere in the cabin shifts and I have a more heightened awareness of her. Breathing deeply, I inhale her scent and sense the anticipation. Ana’s. Mine.

As we descend I take Charlie Tango through the downtown area toward Escala, my home, and my heart rate increases. Ana starts fidgeting. She’s nervous, too. I hope she doesn’t flee.

As the helipad comes into view, I take another deep breath.

This is it.

We land smoothly and I power down, watching the rotor blades slow and come to a stop. All I can hear is the hiss of white noise over our headphones as we sit in silence. I remove my cans, then remove Ana’s, too. “We’re here,” I say quietly. Her face is pale in the glow of the landing lights, her eyes luminous.

Sweet Lord, she’s beautiful.

I unbuckle my harness and reach over to undo hers.

She peers up at me. Trusting. Young. Sweet. Her delicious scent is almost my undoing.

Can I do this with her?

She’s an adult.

She can make her own decisions.

And I want her to look at me this way once she knows me…knows what I’m capable of. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that, don’t you?” She needs to understand this. I want her submission, but more than that I want her consent.

“I’d never do anything I didn’t want to do, Christian.” She sounds sincere and I want to believe her. With those pacifying words ringing in my head, I climb out of my seat and open the door, then jump down onto the helipad. I take her hand as she exits the aircraft. The wind whips her hair around her face, and she looks anxious. I don’t know if it’s because she’s here with me, alone, or if it’s because we’re thirty stories high. I know it’s a giddy feeling being up here.

“Come.” Wrapping my arm around her to shield her from the wind, I guide her to the elevator.

We are both quiet as we make the short journey to the penthouse. She’s wearing a pale green shirt beneath her black jacket. It suits her. I make a mental note to include blues and greens in the clothes I’ll provide if she agrees to my terms. She should be better dressed. Her eyes meet mine in the elevator’s mirrors as the doors open to my apartment.

She follows me through the foyer, across the corridor, and into the living room. “Can I take your jacket?” I ask. Ana shakes her head and clutches the lapels to emphasize that she wants to keep her jacket on.

Okay.

“Would you like a drink?” I try a different approach and decide that I need a drink to steady my nerves.

Why am I so nervous?

Because I want her…

“I’m going to have a glass of white wine. Would you like to join me?”

“Yes, please,” she says.

In the kitchen I slip off my jacket and open the wine fridge. A sauvignon blanc would be a good icebreaker. Pulling out a serviceable Pouilly-Fumé, I watch Ana peer through the balcony doors at the view. When she turns and walks back toward the kitchen I ask if she’d be happy with the wine I’ve selected.

“I know nothing about wine, Christian. I’m sure it will be fine.” She sounds subdued.

Shit. This isn’t going well. Is she overwhelmed? Is that it?

I pour two glasses and walk to where she stands in the middle of my living room, looking every bit the sacrificial lamb. Gone is the disarming woman. She looks lost.

Like me…

“Here.” I hand her the glass, and she immediately takes a sip, closing her eyes in obvious appreciation of the wine. When she lowers the glass her lips are moist.

Good choice, Grey.

“You’re very quiet, and you’re not even blushing. In fact, I think this is the palest I’ve ever seen you, Anastasia. Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head and takes another sip. Maybe she’s in need of some liquid courage, too. “It’s a very big place you have here,” she says, her voice timid.

“Big?”

“Big.”

“It’s big.” There’s no arguing with that; it is more than ten thousand square feet.

“Do you play?” She looks at the piano.

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. Is there anything you can’t do well?”

“Yes…a few things.”

Cook.

Tell jokes.

Make free and easy conversation with a woman I’m attracted to.

Be touched…

“Do you want to sit?” I gesture toward the sofa. A brisk nod tells me that she does. Taking her hand, I lead her there, and she sits down, giving me an impish look.

“What’s so amusing?” I ask, as I take a seat beside her.

“Why did you give me Tess of the d’Urbervilles, specifically?”

Oh. Where is this going? “Well, you said you liked Thomas Hardy.”

“Is that the only reason?”

I don’t want to tell her that she has my first edition, and that it was a better choice than Jude the Obscure. “It seemed appropriate. I could hold you to some impossibly high ideal like Angel Clare or debase you completely like Alec d’Urberville.” My answer is truthful enough and has a certain irony to it. What I’m about to propose I suspect will be very far from her expectations.

“If there are only two choices, I’ll take the debasement,” she whispers.

Damn. Isn’t that what you want, Grey?

“Anastasia, stop biting your lip, please. It’s very distracting. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“That’s why I’m here,” she says, her teeth leaving little indentations on a bottom lip moist with wine.

And there she is: disarming once more, surprising me at every turn. My cock concurs.

We are cutting to the chase on this deal, but before we explore the details, I need her to sign the NDA. I excuse myself and head into my study. The contract and NDA are ready on the printer. Leaving the contract on my desk-I don’t know if we’ll ever get to it-I staple the NDA together and take it back to Ana.

“This is a nondisclosure agreement.” I place it on the coffee table in front of her. She looks confused and surprised. “My lawyer insists on it,” I add. “If you’re going for option two, debasement, you’ll need to sign this.”

“And if I don’t want to sign anything?”

“Then it’s Angel Clare high ideals, well, for most of the book anyway.” And I won’t be able to touch you. I’ll send you home with Stephan, and I will try my very best to forget you. My anxiety mushrooms; this deal could all go to shit.

“What does this agreement mean?”

“It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone.”

She searches my face and I don’t know if she’s confused or displeased.

This could go either way.

“Okay. I’ll sign,” she says.

Well, that was easy. I hand her my Mont Blanc and she places the pen at the signature line.

“Aren’t you even going to read it?” I ask, suddenly annoyed.

“No.”

“Anastasia, you should always read anything you sign.” How could she be so foolish? Have her parents taught her nothing?

“Christian, what you fail to understand is that I wouldn’t talk about us to anyone anyway. Even Kate. So it’s immaterial whether I sign an agreement or not. If it means so much to you, or your lawyer, whom you obviously talk to, then fine. I’ll sign.”

She has an answer for everything. It’s refreshing. “Fair point well made, Miss Steele,” I note dryly.

With a quick, disapproving glance, she signs.

And before I can begin my pitch, she asks, “Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?”

What?

Me?

Make love?

Oh, Grey, let’s disabuse her of this straightaway. “No, Anastasia, it doesn’t. First, I don’t make love. I fuck, hard.”

She gasps. That’s made her think.

“Second, there’s a lot more paperwork to do. And third, you don’t yet know what you’re in for. You could still run from here screaming! Come, I want to show you my playroom.”

She’s nonplussed, the little v forming between her brows. “You want to play on your Xbox?”

I laugh out loud.

Oh, baby.

“No, Anastasia, no Xbox, no PlayStation. Come.” Standing, I offer her my hand, which she takes willingly. I lead her to the hallway and upstairs, where I stop outside the door to my playroom, my heart hammering in my chest.

This is it. Pay or play. Have I ever been this nervous? Realizing my desires depend on the turn of this key, I unlock the door, and in that moment I need to reassure her. “You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on standby to take you whenever you want to go; you can stay the night and go home in the morning. It’s fine, whatever you decide.”

“Just open the damn door, Christian,” she says with a mulish expression and her arms crossed.

This is the crossroads. I don’t want her to run. But I’ve never felt this exposed. Even in Elena’s hands…and I know it’s because she knows nothing about the lifestyle.

I open the door and follow her into my playroom.

My safe place.

The only place where I’m truly myself.

Ana stands in the middle of the room, studying all the paraphernalia that is so much a part of my life: the floggers, the canes, the bed, the bench…She’s silent, drinking it in, and all I hear is the deafening pounding of my heart as the blood rushes past my eardrums.

Now you know.

This is me.

She turns and gives me a piercing stare as I wait for her to say something, but she prolongs my agony and walks farther into the room, forcing me to follow her.

Her fingers trail over a suede flogger, one of my favorites. I tell her what it’s called, but she doesn’t respond. She walks over to the bed, her hands exploring, her fingers running over one of the carved pillars.

“Say something,” I ask. Her silence is unbearable. I need to know if she’s going to run.

“Do you do this to people or do they do it to you?”

Finally!

“People?” I want to snort. “I do this to women who want me to.”

She’s willing to have a dialogue. There’s hope.

She frowns. “If you have willing volunteers, why am I here?”

“Because I want to do this with you, very much.” Visions of her tied up in various positions around the room overwhelm my imagination; on the cross, on the bed, over the bench…

“Oh,” she says, and wanders to the bench. My eyes are drawn to her inquisitive fingers stroking the leather. Her touch is curious, slow, and sensual-is she even aware?

“You’re a sadist?” she says, startling me.

Fuck. She sees me.

“I’m a Dominant,” I say quickly, hoping to move the conversation on.

“What does that mean?” she inquires, shocked, I think.

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To please me,” I whisper. This is what I need from you. “In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me.”

“How do I do that?” she breathes.

“I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and for my pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn.”

And I can’t wait to train you. In every way.

She stares at the canes behind the bench. “And where does all this fit in?” She waves at her surroundings.

“It’s all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment.”

“So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.”

Spot on, Miss Steele.

“It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you.” I need your permission, baby. “I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy-it’s a very simple equation.”

“Okay, and what do I get out of this?”

“Me.” I shrug. That’s it, baby. Just me. All of me. And you’ll find pleasure, too…

Her eyes widen fractionally as she stares at me, saying nothing. It’s exasperating. “You’re not giving anything away, Anastasia. Let’s go back downstairs where I can concentrate better. It’s very distracting having you in here.”

I hold out my hand to her and for the first time she looks from my hand to my face, undecided.

Shit.

I’ve frightened her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Anastasia.”

Tentatively she puts her hand in mine. I’m elated. She hasn’t run.

Relieved, I decide to show her the submissive’s bedroom.

“If you do this, let me show you.” I lead her down the corridor. “This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here.”

“My room? You’re expecting me to move in?” she squeaks in disbelief.

Okay. Maybe I should have left this until later.

“Not full-time,” I reassure her. “Just, say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that. Negotiate. If you want to do this.”

“I’ll sleep here?”

“Yes.”

“Not with you.”

“No. I told you, I don’t sleep with anyone, except you when you’re stupefied with drink.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry.”

“Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appetite,” she declares, with her familiar stubborn expression.

“You must eat, Anastasia.”

Her eating habits will be one of the first issues I’ll work on if she agrees to be mine…that, and her fidgeting.

Stop getting ahead of yourself, Grey!

“I’m fully aware that this is a dark path I’m leading you down, Anastasia, which is why I really want you to think about this.”

She follows me downstairs into the living room once more. “You must have some questions. You’ve signed your NDA; you can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer.”

If this is going to work, she’s going to have to communicate. In the kitchen I open the fridge and find a large plate of cheese and some grapes. Gail wasn’t expecting me to have company, and this is not enough…I wonder if I should order some takeout. Or perhaps take her out?

Like a date.

Another date.

I don’t want to raise expectations like that.

I don’t do dates.

Only with her…

The thought is irritating. There’s a fresh baguette in the bread basket. Bread and cheese will have to do. Besides, she says she’s not hungry.

“Sit.” I point to one of the barstools and Ana sits down and gives me a level gaze.

“You mentioned paperwork,” she says.

“Yes.”

“What paperwork?”

“Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and won’t do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Anastasia.”

“And if I don’t want to do this?”

Shit.

“That’s fine,” I lie.

“But we won’t have any sort of relationship?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“This is the only sort of relationship I’m interested in.”

“Why?”

“It’s the way I am.”

“How did you become this way?”

“Why is anyone the way they are? That’s kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do you like cheese? Mrs. Jones-my housekeeper-has left this for a late supper.” I place the plate in front of her.

“What are your rules that I have to follow?”

“I have them written down. We’ll go through them once we’ve eaten.”

“I’m really not hungry,” she whispers.

“You will eat.”

The look she gives me is defiant.

“Would you like another glass of wine?” I ask, as a peace offering.

“Yes, please.”

I pour wine into her glass and sit down beside her. “Help yourself to food, Anastasia.”

She takes a few grapes.

That’s it? That’s all you’re eating?

“Have you been like this for a while?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Is it easy to find women who want to do this?”

Oh, if you only knew. “You’d be amazed.” My tone is wry.

“Then why me? I really don’t understand.” She’s utterly bemused.

Baby, you’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t I want to do this with you?

“Anastasia, I’ve told you. There’s something about you. I can’t leave you alone. I’m like a moth to a flame. I want you very badly, especially now, when you’re biting your lip again.”

“I think you have that cliché the wrong way around,” she says softly, and it’s a disturbing confession.

“Eat!” I order, to change the subject.

“No. I haven’t signed anything yet, so I think I’ll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, if that’s okay with you.”

Oh…her smart mouth.

“As you wish, Miss Steele.” And I hide my smirk.

“How many women?” she asks, and she pops a grape into that mouth.

“Fifteen.” I have to look away.

“For long periods of time?”

“Some of them, yes.”

“Have you ever hurt anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Badly?”

“No.” Dawn was fine, if a little shaken by the experience. And if I’m honest, so was I.

“Will you hurt me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Physically, will you hurt me?”

Only what you can take.

“I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful.”

For example, when you get drunk and put yourself at risk.

“Have you ever been beaten?” she asks.

“Yes.”

Many, many times. Elena was devilishly handy with a cane. It’s the only touch I could tolerate.

Her eyes widen and she puts the uneaten grapes on her plate and takes another sip of wine. Her lack of appetite is irritating and is affecting mine. Perhaps I should just bite the bullet and show her the rules.

“Let’s discuss this in my study. I want to show you something.”

She follows me and sits in the leather chair in front of my desk as I lean against it, arms folded.

This is what she wants to know. It’s a blessing that she’s curious-she hasn’t run yet. From the contract laid out on my desk I take one of the pages and hand it to her. “These are the rules. They may be subject to change. They form part of the contract, which you can also have. Read these rules and let’s discuss.”

Her eyes scan the page. “Hard limits?” she asks.

“Yes. What you won’t do, what I won’t do, we need to specify in our agreement.”

“I’m not sure about accepting money for clothes. It feels wrong.”

“I want to lavish money on you. Let me buy you some clothes. I may need you to accompany me to functions.”

Grey, what are you saying? This would be a first. “And I want you dressed well. I’m sure your salary, when you do get a job, won’t cover the kind of clothes I’d like you to wear.”

“I don’t have to wear them when I’m not with you?”

“No.”

“Okay. I don’t want to exercise four times a week.”

“Anastasia, I need you supple, strong, and with stamina. Trust me, you need to exercise.”

“But surely not four times a week. How about three?”

“I want you to do four.”

“I thought this was a negotiation?”

Again, she’s disarming, calling me out on my shit. “Okay, Miss Steele, another point well made. How about an hour on three days and one day half an hour?”

“Three days, three hours. I get the impression you’re going to keep me exercised when I’m here.”

Oh, I hope so.

“Yes, I am. Okay, agreed. Are you sure you don’t want to intern at my company? You’re a good negotiator.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Of course she’s right. And it’s my number-one rule: never fuck the staff.

“So, limits. These are mine.” I hand her the list.

This is it, shit-or-bust time. I know my limits by heart, and mentally tick off the list as I watch her read through. Her face grows paler and paler as she nears the end.

Fuck, I hope this isn’t frightening her off.

I want her. I want her submission…badly. She swallows, glancing nervously up at me. How can I persuade her to give this a try? I should reassure her, show her that I’m capable of caring.

“Is there anything you’d like to add?”

Deep down I hope she won’t add anything. I want carte blanche with her. She stares at me, still at a loss for words. It’s irritating. I’m not used to waiting for answers. “Is there anything you won’t do?” I prompt.

“I don’t know.”

Not the response I was expecting.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

She shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable, her teeth toying with her bottom lip. Again. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

Hell, of course she hasn’t.

Patience, Grey. For fuck’s sake. You’ve thrown a great deal of information at her. I continue my gentle approach. It’s novel.

“Well, when you’ve had sex, was there anything that you didn’t like doing?” And I’m reminded of the photographer fumbling all over her yesterday.

She flushes and my interest is piqued. What has she done that she didn’t like? Is she adventurous in bed? She seems so-innocent. Normally I don’t find that attractive.

“You can tell me, Anastasia. We have to be honest with each other or this isn’t going to work.” I really have to encourage her to loosen up-she won’t even talk about sex. She’s squirming again and staring at her fingers.

Come on, Ana.

“Tell me,” I order. Sweet Lord, she’s frustrating.

“Well, I’ve not had sex before, so I don’t know,” she whispers.

The earth stops spinning.

I don’t fucking believe it.

How?

Why?

Fuck!

“Never?” I’m incredulous.

She shakes her head, eyes wide.

“You’re a virgin?” I don’t believe it.

She nods, embarrassed. I close my eyes. I can’t look at her.

How the hell did I get this so wrong?

Anger lances through me. What can I do with a virgin? I glare at her as fury surges through my body.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I growl, and start pacing my study. What do I want with a virgin? She shrugs apologetically, at a loss for words.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” The exasperation is clear in my voice.

“The subject never came up,” she says. “I’m not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other.”

As ever, it’s a fair point. I can’t believe I’ve given her the bus tour of my playroom-thank heavens for the NDA.

“Well, you know a lot more about me now,” I snarl. “I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin! Hell, Ana, I just showed you…”

Not only the playroom: my rules, hard limits. She knows nothing. How could I do this? “May God forgive me,” I mutter under my breath. I’m at a loss.

A startling thought occurs to me-our one kiss in the elevator, where I could have fucked her there and then-was that her first kiss?

“Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?” Please say yes.

“Of course I have.” She looks offended. Yeah, she’s been kissed, but not often. And for some reason the thought is…pleasing.

“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.” Why hasn’t some guy taken her to bed?

Shit, maybe she’s religious. No, Welch would have uncovered that. She gazes down at her fingers, and I think she’s smiling. She thinks this is funny? I could kick myself. “And you’re seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience.”

Words fail me. How can this be?

“How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please.” Because I don’t get it. She’s in college-and from what I remember of college all the kids were fucking like rabbits.

All of them. Except me.

The thought is a dark one, but I push it aside for the moment.

Ana shrugs, her small shoulders lifting slightly. “No one’s really, you know…” She trails off.

No one has what? Seen how attractive you are? No one’s lived up to your expectations-and I do?

Me?

She really knows nothing. How could she ever be a submissive if she has no idea about sex? This is not going to fly…and all the groundwork I’ve done has been for nothing. I can’t close this deal.

“Why are you so angry with me?” she whispers.

Of course she would think that. Make this right, Grey.

“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry at myself. I just assumed-” Why the hell would I be angry with you? What a mess this is. I run my hands through my hair, trying to rein in my temper.

“Do you want to go?” I ask, concerned.

“No, unless you want me to go,” she says softly, her voice tinged with regret.

“Of course not. I like having you here.” The statement surprises me as I say it. I do like having her here. Being with her. She’s so…different. And I want to fuck her, and spank her, and watch her alabaster skin pink beneath my hands. That’s out of the question now-isn’t it? Perhaps not the fucking…perhaps I could. The thought is a revelation. I could take her to bed. Break her in. It would be a novel experience for both of us. Would she want to? She asked me earlier if I was going to make love to her. I could try, without tying her up.

But she might touch me.

Fuck. I glance down at my watch and note the time. It’s late. When I look back at her the sight of her toying with her bottom lip arouses me.

I still want her, in spite of her innocence. Could I take her to bed? Would she want to, knowing what she knows about me now? Hell, I have no idea. Do I just ask her? But she’s turning me on, biting her lip again. I point it out and she apologizes.

“Don’t apologize. It’s just that I want to bite it, too, hard.”

Her breath hitches.

Oh. Maybe she’s interested. Yes. Let’s do this. My decision is made.

“Come,” I offer, holding out my hand.

“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.”

“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,” she says, her voice husky and so damned seductive, her eyes wide, pupils dilating. She’s flushed with desire-she wants this, too.

And a wholly unexpected thrill unfurls inside me. “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 really 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.” The words rush out in a torrent.

Grey! Get ahold of yourself.

Her cheeks pink.

Come on, Ana, yes or no. I’m dying here.

“But I haven’t done all the things you require from your list of rules.” Her voice is timid. Is she afraid? I hope not. I don’t want her to be afraid.

“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.”

I offer her my hand again, and this time she takes it, and I pull her into my arms, holding her flush against my body. She gasps with surprise and I feel her against me. The darkness is quiet, perhaps subdued by my libido. I want her. She’s so alluring. This girl confounds me, every step of the way. I’ve revealed my dark secret, yet she’s still here; she hasn’t run.

My fingers tug at her hair, pulling her face up to mine, and I gaze into captivating eyes.

“You are one brave young woman,” I breathe. “I am in awe of you.” I lean down and gently kiss her, then tease her lower lip with my teeth. “I want to bite this lip.” I tug harder and she whimpers. My cock hardens in response.

“Please, Ana, let me make love to you,” I whisper against her mouth.

“Yes,” she responds-and my body lights up like the Fourth of July.

Get a grip, Grey. We have no arrangement in place, no limits set, she’s not mine to do with as I please-and yet I’m excited. Aroused. It’s an unfamiliar but exhilarating feeling, desire for this woman coursing through me. I’m at the tipping edge of a giant roller coaster.

Vanilla sex?

Can I do this?

Without another word I lead her out of my study, through the living room, and down the corridor to my bedroom. She follows, her hand tightly holding mine.

Shit. Contraception. I’m sure she’s not on the pill…Fortunately, I have condoms for backup. At least I don’t have to worry about every dick she’s slept with. I release her by the bed, walk over to my chest of drawers, and remove my watch, shoes, and socks.

“I assume you’re not on the pill.”

She shakes her head.

“I didn’t think so.” From the drawer I take out a packet of condoms, letting her know I’m prepared. She studies me, her eyes impossibly large in her beautiful face, and I have a moment’s hesitation. This is supposed to be a big deal for her, isn’t it? I remember my first time with Elena, how embarrassing it was…but what a heaven-sent relief. Deep down I know I should send her home. But the simple truth is, I don’t want her to go, and I want her. What’s more, I can see my desire reflected in her expression, in her darkening eyes.

“Do you want the blinds drawn?” I ask.

“I don’t mind,” she says. “I thought you didn’t let anyone sleep in your bed.”

“Who says we’re going to sleep?”

“Oh.” Her lips form a perfect small o. My cock hardens further. Yes, I’d like to fuck that mouth, that o. I stalk toward her like she’s my prey. Oh, baby, I want to bury myself in you. Her breathing is shallow and quick. Her cheeks are rosy…she’s wary, but excited. She’s at my mercy, and knowing that makes me feel powerful. She has no idea what I’m going to do to her. “Let’s get this jacket off, shall we?” Reaching up, I gently push her jacket off her shoulders, fold it, and place it on my chair.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you, Ana Steele?”

Her lips part as she inhales, and I reach up to touch her cheek. Her skin is petal-soft beneath my fingertips as they glide down to her chin. She’s entranced-lost-under my spell. She’s already mine. It’s intoxicating.

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” I murmur, and hold her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Leaning down, I kiss her firmly, molding her lips to mine. Returning my kiss, she’s soft and sweet and willing, and I have an overwhelming need to see her, all of her. I make quick work of her buttons, slowly peeling off her blouse and letting it fall to the floor. I stand back to look at her. She’s wearing the pale blue bra that Taylor bought.

She’s stunning.

“Oh, Ana. You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss every single inch of it.” There’s not a mark on her. The thought is unsettling. I want to see her marked…pink…with tiny, thin welts from a crop maybe.

She colors a delicious rose-embarrassed, no doubt. If I do nothing else, I will teach her not to be shy of her body. Reaching up, I pull her hair tie, freeing her hair. It tumbles lush and chestnut around her face, down to her breasts.

“Mmm, I like brunettes.” She’s lovely, exceptional, a jewel.

Holding her head, I run my fingers through her hair and pull her to me, kissing her. She moans against me and parts her lips, allowing me access to her warm, wet mouth. The sweet appreciative noise echoes through me-to the end of my cock. Her tongue shyly meets mine, tentatively probing my mouth, and for some reason, her fumbling inexperience is…hot.

She tastes luscious. Wine, grapes, and innocence-a potent, heady mix of flavors. I fold my arms tightly around her, relieved that she grips only my upper arms. With one hand in her hair, holding her in place, I run my other hand down her spine to her ass and push her against me, against my erection. She moans again. I continue to kiss her, coaxing her unschooled tongue to explore my mouth as I explore hers. My body tenses when she moves her hands up my arms-and for a moment I worry where she’ll touch me next. She caresses my cheek, then strokes my hair. It’s a little unnerving. But when she twists her fingers in my hair, pulling gently…

Damn, that feels good.

I groan in response but can’t let her continue. Before she can touch me again, I push her against the bed and drop to my knees. I want her out of these jeans-I want to strip her, arouse her some more, and…keep her hands off me. Grasping her hips, I run my tongue just north of the waistband up to her navel. She tenses and inhales sharply. Fuck, does she smell and taste good, an orchard in springtime, and I want my fill. Her hands fist in my hair once more; this I don’t mind-in fact, I like it. I nip her hipbone and her grip tightens in my hair. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slack, and she’s panting. As I reach up and undo the button on her jeans, she opens her eyes and we study each other. Slowly I ease down the zipper and move my hands around her ass. Slipping my hands inside the waistband, my palms against the soft cheeks of her behind, I slide her jeans off.

I can’t stop myself. I want to shock her…test her boundaries right now. Not taking my eyes off hers, I deliberately lick my lips, then lean forward and run my nose up the center of her panties, inhaling her arousal. Closing my eyes, I savor her.

Lord, she’s enticing.

“You smell so good.” My voice is husky with want and my jeans are becoming extremely uncomfortable. I need to take them off. Gently, I push her onto the bed and, grasping her right foot, I make quick work of removing her sneaker and sock. To tease her I run my thumbnail along her instep and she writhes gratifyingly on the bed, her mouth open, watching me, fascinated. Leaning down, I trace my tongue along her instep, and my teeth graze the little line that my thumbnail has left in its wake. She lies back on the bed, eyes closed, groaning. She’s so responsive, it’s delightful.

“Oh, Ana, what I could do to you,” I whisper, as images of her writhing beneath me in my playroom flash through my mind: shackled to my four-poster bed, bent over the table-suspended from the cross. I could tease and torture her until she begged for release…the images make my jeans even tighter.

Hell.

Quickly I remove her other shoe and sock, and pull off her jeans. She’s almost naked on my bed, her hair framing her face perfectly, her long, pale legs stretched out in invitation before me. I have to make allowances for her inexperience. But she’s panting. Wanting. Her eyes fixed on me.

I’ve never fucked anyone in my bed before. Another first with Miss Steele.

“You’re very beautiful, Anastasia Steele. I can’t wait to be inside you.” My voice is gentle; I want to tease her some more, find out what she does know. “Show me how you pleasure yourself,” I ask, gazing intently down at her.

She frowns.

“Don’t be coy, Ana, show me.” Part of me wants to spank the shyness out of her.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Is she playing games?

“How do you make yourself come? I want to see.”

She remains mute. Clearly I’ve shocked her again. “I don’t,” she mutters finally, her voice breathless. I gaze at her in disbelief. Even I used to masturbate, before Elena sunk her claws into me.

She’s probably never had an orgasm-though I find this hard to believe. Whoa. I’m responsible for her first fuck and her first orgasm. I’d better make this good.

“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” I’m going to make you come like a freight train, baby.

Hell-she’s probably never seen a naked man, either. Not taking my eyes off hers, I undo the top button on my jeans and ease them onto the floor, though I can’t risk taking my shirt off, because she might touch me.

But if she did…it wouldn’t be so bad…would it? Being touched?

I banish the thought before the darkness surfaces, and grasping her ankles, I spread her legs. Her eyes widen and her hands clench my sheets.

Yes. Keep your hands there, baby.

I crawl slowly up the bed, between her legs. She squirms beneath me.

“Keep still,” I tell her, and lean down to kiss the delicate skin of her inner thigh. I trail kisses up her thighs, over her panties, across her belly, nipping and sucking as I go. She writhes beneath me.

“We’re going to have to work on keeping you still, baby.”

If you’ll let me.

I’ll teach her to just absorb the pleasure and not move, intensifying every touch, every kiss, every nip. The thought alone is enough to make me want to bury myself in her, but before I do, I want to know how responsive she is. So far she hasn’t held back. She’s allowing me free rein over her body. She’s not hesitant at all. She wants this…she really wants this. I dip my tongue into her navel and continue my leisurely journey north, savoring her. I shift, lying beside her, one leg still between hers. My hand ghosts up her body, over her hip, up her waist, on to her breast. Gently I cup her breast, trying to gauge her reaction. She doesn’t stiffen. She doesn’t stop me…she trusts me. Can I extend her trust to letting me have complete dominion over her body…over her? The thought is exhilarating.

“You fit my hand perfectly, Anastasia.” Dipping my finger into her bra cup, I jerk it down, freeing her breast. The nipple is small, rose pink, and it’s already hard. I drag the cup down so that the fabric and underwire rest under her breast, forcing it upward. I repeat the process with the other cup and watch, fascinated, as her nipples grow under my steady gaze. Whoa…I haven’t even touched her yet.

“Very nice,” I whisper in awed appreciation, and blow gently on the nearest nipple, watching in delight as it hardens and extends. Anastasia closes her eyes and arches her back.

Keep still, baby, just absorb the pleasure, it will feel so much more intense.

Blowing on one nipple, I roll the other gently between my thumb and forefinger. She grasps the sheets tightly as I lean down and suck-hard. Her body bows again and she cries out.

“Let’s see if we can make you come like this,” I whisper, and I don’t stop. She starts to whimper.

Oh, yes, baby…feel this. Her nipples extend farther and she starts grinding her hips, around and around. Keep still, baby. I will teach you to keep still.

“Oh, please,” she begs. Her legs stiffen. It’s working. She’s close. I continue my lascivious assault. Concentrating on each nipple, watching her response, sensing her pleasure, is driving me to distraction. Lord, I want her.

“Let go, baby,” I murmur, and pull her nipple with my teeth. She cries out as she climaxes.

Yes! I move quickly to kiss her, capturing her cries in my mouth. She’s breathless and panting, lost in her pleasure…Mine. I own her first orgasm, and I’m ridiculously pleased by the thought.

“You’re very responsive. You’re going to have to learn to control that, and it’s going to be so much fun teaching you how.” I can’t wait…but right now, I want her. All of her. I kiss her once more and let my hand travel down her body, down to her vulva. I hold her, feeling her heat. Slipping my index finger through the lace of her panties, I slowly circle around her…fuck, she’s soaking.

“You’re so deliciously wet. God, I want you.” I thrust my finger inside her, and she cries out. She’s hot and tight and wet, and I want her. I thrust into her again, taking her cries into my mouth. I press my palm to her clitoris…pushing down…pushing around. She cries out and writhes beneath me. Fuck, I want her-now. She’s ready. Sitting up, I drag her panties off, then my boxers, and reach for a condom. I kneel up between her legs, pushing them farther apart. Anastasia watches me with-what? Trepidation? She’s probably never seen an erect penis before.

“Don’t worry. You expand, too,” I mutter. Stretching out over her, I put my hands on either side of her head, taking my weight on my elbows. God, I want her…but I check she’s still keen. “You really want to do this?” I ask.

For fuck’s sake, please don’t say no.

“Please,” she begs.

“Pull your knees up,” I instruct her. This’ll be easier. Have I ever been so aroused? I can barely contain myself. I don’t get it…it must be her.

Why?

Grey, focus!

I position myself so I can take her at my whim. Her eyes are open wide, imploring me. She really wants this…as much as I do. Should I be gentle and prolong the agony, or do I go for it?

I go for it. I need to possess her.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele. Hard.”

One thrust and I’m inside her.

F. U. C. K.

She’s so fucking tight. She cries out.

Shit! I’ve hurt her. I want to move, to lose myself in her, and it takes all my restraint to stop. “You’re so tight. You okay?” I ask, my voice a hoarse, anxious whisper, and she nods, eyes wider. She’s like heaven on earth, so tight around me. And even though her hands are on my forearms, I don’t care. The darkness is slumbering, perhaps because I’ve wanted her for so long. I’ve never felt this desire, this…hunger before. It’s a new feeling, new and shiny. I want so much from her: her trust, her obedience, her submission. I want her to be mine, but right now…I’m hers.

“I’m going to move, baby.” My voice is strained as I ease back slowly. It’s such an extraordinary, exquisite feeling: her body cradling my cock. I push into her again and claim her, knowing no one has before. She whimpers.

I stop. “More?”

“Yes,” she breathes, after a moment.

This time I thrust into her more deeply.

“Again?” I plead, as sweat beads on my body.

“Yes.”

Her trust in me-it’s suddenly overwhelming, and I start to move, really move. I want her to come. I will not stop until she comes. I want to own this woman, body and soul. I want her clenching around me.

Fuck-she starts meeting every thrust, matching my rhythm. See how well we fit together, Ana? I grasp her head, holding her in place while I claim her body and kiss her hard, claiming her mouth. She stiffens beneath me…fuck yes. Her orgasm is close.

“Come for me, Ana,” I demand, and she cries out as she’s consumed, tipping her head back, her mouth open, her eyes closed…and just the sight of her ecstasy is enough. I explode in her, losing all sense and reason, as I call out her name and come violently inside her.

When I open my eyes I’m panting, trying to catch my breath, and we’re forehead to forehead and she’s staring up at me.

Fuck. I’m undone.

I plant a swift kiss on her forehead and pull out of her and lie down beside her.

She winces as I withdraw, but other than that she looks okay.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask, and I tuck her hair behind her ear, because I don’t want to stop touching her.

Ana beams with incredulity. “You are asking me if you hurt me?”

And for a moment I don’t know why she’s grinning.

Oh. My playroom.

“The irony is not lost on me,” I mutter. Even now she confounds me. “Seriously, are you okay?”

She stretches out beside me, testing her body and teasing me with an amused but sated expression.

“You haven’t answered me,” I growl. I need to know if she found that enjoyable. All the evidence points to a “yes”-but I need to hear it from her. While I’m waiting for her reply I remove the condom. Lord, I hate these things. I discard it discreetly on the floor.

She peers up at me. “I’d like to do that again,” she says with a shy giggle.

What?

Again?

Already?

“Would you now, Miss Steele?” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you? Turn on your front.”

That way I know you won’t touch me.

She gives me a brief sweet smile, then rolls onto her stomach. My cock stirs with approval. I unhook her bra and run my hand down her back to her pert behind. “You really have the most beautiful skin,” I say, as I brush her hair off her face and push her legs apart. Gently I plant soft kisses on her shoulder.

“Why are you wearing your shirt?” she asks.

She’s so damn inquisitive. While she’s on her front I know she can’t touch me, so I lean back and pull my shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. Fully naked, I lie on top of her. Her skin is warm, and melts against mine.

Hmm…I could get used to this.

“So you want me to fuck you again?” I whisper in her ear, kissing her. She squirms deliciously against me.

Oh, this will never do. Keep still, baby.

I skim my hand down her body to the back of her knee, then hitch it up high, parting her legs wide so that she’s spread beneath me. Her breath catches and I hope it’s with anticipation. She stills beneath me.

Finally!

I palm her ass as I ease my weight onto her. “I’m going to take you from behind, Anastasia.” With my other hand I grab her hair at the nape and tug gently, holding her in place. She cannot move. Her hands are helpless and splayed against the sheets, out of harm’s way.

“You are mine,” I whisper. “Only mine. Don’t forget it.”

With my free hand I move from her ass to her clitoris and begin circling slowly.

Her muscles flex beneath me as she tries to move, but my weight keeps her in place. I run my teeth along her jawline. Her sweet fragrance lingers over the scent of our coupling. “You smell divine,” I whisper, as I nuzzle behind her ear.

She starts to circle her hips against my moving hand.

“Keep still,” I warn.

Or I might stop…

Slowly I insert my thumb inside her and circle it around and around, taking particular care to stroke the front wall of her vagina.

She groans and tenses beneath me, trying to move again.

“You like this?” I tease, and my teeth trace her outer ear. I don’t stop my fingers from tormenting her clitoris, but I begin to ease my thumb in and out of her. She stiffens, but can’t move.

She groans loudly, her eyes scrunched up tight.

“You’re so wet, so quickly. So responsive. Oh, Anastasia, I like that. I like that a lot.”

Right. Let’s see how far you’ll go.

I withdraw my thumb from her vagina. “Open your mouth,” I order, and when she does I thrust my thumb between her lips. “See how you taste. Suck me, baby.”

She sucks my thumb…hard.

Fuck.

And for a moment I imagine it’s my cock in her mouth.

“I want to fuck your mouth, Anastasia, and I will soon.” I’m breathless.

She closes her teeth around me, biting me hard.

Ow! Fuck.

I grip her hair tightly and she loosens her mouth. “Naughty, sweet girl.” My mind flits through a number of punishments worthy of such a bold move that, if she were my submissive, I could inflict on her. My cock expands to bursting at the thought. I release her and sit back on my knees.

“Stay still, don’t move.” I grab another condom from my bedside table, rip open the foil, and roll the latex over my erection.

Watching her, I see that she’s still, except for the rise and fall of her back as she pants in anticipation.

She’s gorgeous.

Leaning over her again, I grasp her hair and hold her so she can’t move her head.

“We’re going to go real slow this time, Anastasia.”

She gasps, and gently I ease into her until I can go no farther.

Fuck. She feels good.

As I ease out I circle my hips and slowly slip into her again. She whimpers and her limbs tense beneath me as she tries to move.

Oh no, baby.

I want you still.

I want you to feel this.

Take all the pleasure.

“You feel so good,” I tell her, and repeat the move again, circling my hips as I go. Slowly. In. Out. In. Out. Her insides start to tremble.

“Oh no, baby, not yet.”

No way am I letting you come.

Not when I’m enjoying this so much.

“Oh, please,” she cries.

“I want you sore, baby.” I pull out and sink into her again. “Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here. Only me. You are mine.”

“Please, Christian,” she begs.

“What do you want, Anastasia? Tell me.” I continue the slow torture. “Tell me.”

“You, please.” She’s desperate.

She wants me.

Good girl.

I increase the pace and her insides begin to quiver, responding immediately.

Between each thrust I utter one word. “You. Are. So. Sweet. I. Want. You. So. Much. You. Are. Mine.” Her limbs tremble with the strain of keeping still. She’s on the edge. “Come for me, baby,” I growl.

And on command she shudders around me as her orgasm rips through her and she screams my name into the mattress.

My name on her lips is my undoing, and I climax and collapse on top of her.

“Fuck. Ana,” I whisper, drained yet elated. I pull out of her almost immediately and roll onto my back. She curls up at my side, and as I pull off the condom, she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 

Fifty Shades Freed Extended Version
Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial