"Open wide, then bite," he murmurs. I follow his command. Hmm — one of
my favorites, stuffed vine leaves. Even cold they are delicious, though I prefer
them heated up, bill I don'l want to risk C hristian burning himself again. He feeds
it to me slowly, and w hen l' e finished 1 lick his fingers clean.
"More?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
I shake my head. I'm full.
"Good," he whispers against my ear, "because it's time for my favorite
course. You." He s L ic up n hi arms rprisi g mc so much I squeal.
"Can I take the blindfold off?"
"No."
I almosl poul. then remember his threat and think betler of il.
"'Playroom." he murmurs.
Oh— I don 't know if that 's a good idea.
"You up for the challenge?" he asks. And because he's used the word chal-
lenge, I can't say no.
"Bring it on," I murmur, desire and something that I don't want to name
ihrum through my body, lie carries me through the door, ihen up the stairs to the
" I think you've lost weight," he mutters disapprovingly. I have? Good. I re-
il smarted. Joe/ was that just a week ago?
Outside the playroom, he slides me down his body and sets me on my feet,
but keeps his irm wi cd aroui ly Bi he unlocl he dooi
It always smells the same: polished wood and citrus. It's actually become a
comforting smell. Releasing mc. Christian turns mc around until I'm facing away
from him. He undue-, the ,carf. and I blink in the soil light. Gently, he pulls the
hairpins from my updo, and my braid falls free. He grasps ii and lugs gently so I
have to step back against him.
"I have a plan," he whispers in my ear, sending delicious shivers down my
"I though! you might." I answer. I ic kisses me beneath my ear.
"Oh, Mrs. Grey, I do." His lone is soli, mesmerizing, i ie lugs my braid to the
side and plants a trail of soil kisses down m throat.
"First we have to get you naked." His voice hums low in his throat and reson-
ates through my body. I want this — whatever he has planned. I want to connect
the way we know how. He turns me around to laec him. I glance down at his
jeans, the top button slill undone, and I can't help myself. I brush my index finger
around the waistband, avoiding his T-shirt, feeling die hairs of his happy trail
tickle my knuckle. He inhales sharply, and I look up to meet his eyes. I stop at the
unfastened button. His eyes darken to a deeper gray . . . oh my.
"You should keep these on," I whisper.
And he moves, grabbing me with one hand to the back of my neck and the
"Let's get rid of this dress," he says, peeling my dress up my thighs, my hips,
ty belly . . . deliciously slowly, the material skimming over my skin, skimming
ver my breasts.
i eyes blaze as he grasps both my
and I know he's asking for my permission. Winn i he ^oin» to do m im ' 1 swal-
low, then nod, and a trace of an admiring, almost proud, smile touches his lips. He
clips my wrists into the leather cuffs on the bur abo e and produces the scarf once
"Think you've seen enough." he murmurs. He wraps it around my head,
blindfolding me again, and i feel a frisson tun through me as all my other senses
heighten; the sound of his soft breathing, my own excited response, the blood
pulsing in my ears, Christian's scent mixed with the citrus and polish in the
room — all are bought into sharper focus because I can't see. His nose touches
"I'm going to drive you wild," he whispers. His hands grasp my hips, and he
moves down, remo i i pan I i 1 1 low 11 my legs. Drive me
"Lift your feet, one at a time." I oblige and he removes first my panties, then
each sandal in turn 1 my ankle. I ny I gently to the right.
"Step," he says, lie cull-. nn right ankle to the cross then proceeds to do the
same with my left. 1 m hel i il gled on ihe en Standing Christian
steps toward me, and my body is bathed in his warmth once more though he
doesn't touch mc i i i i hin. til i he id up, and kisses
me chastely.
"Sonic music nidi I 1 I I i il is Mis Grey. I may
take a moment to admire the view." His voice is soft. Everything clenches deep
After a moment. ma be two. I hear him pad quietly to the museum chest and
open one of the drawers. The butt drawer? I have no idea. He takes something out
and places it on the lop. followed by something else 1 he speakers spring to life,
and after a moment the strains of a single piano playing a soft, lilting melody fill
the room. It's familiar — Bach, I think — but I don't know what piece it is. So-
mething about the music makes me apprehensh e. Perhaps because the music is
grasps my chin, startling me, and tugs gently so that I release my bottom lip. I
my breast. Using his thumb s ul i thi u Ire i nn bicast tiom the re-
kisses my neck. His lips follow the path of his fingers to my breast, kissing and
sucking all the way. His lingers nunc to my left breast, releasing it from my bra. I
moan as he skates his thumb across m> leli mpnie. and his hps close around nn
right, lugging and leasing genlh until both nipples are long and hard.
"Ah."
He doesn't stop. With exquisite care, he slowly increases the intensity on
each. I pull fruitlessly against my restraints as sharp pleasure spikes from my
nipples to my groin. I try to squirm but I can hardly move, and it makes the torture
"Chrislian." I plead.
"I know." he murmurs his voice hoarse. "This is what you make me feel."
What'! I groan, and lie begins again, subjecting m nipples to bis sweet agon-
izing loueb ONcrand oer taking me closer.
"Please," I mewl.
lie makes a low primal sound in Ins throat, then stands, leaving me bereft,
breathless, and squii tin in trainl M tins hi hands down my sides,
one pausing on my hip while the other travels down my belly.
"Let's see how you're doing," he croons softly. Gently, he cups my sex,
brushing his thumb across nn clitoris and milking me cr out. Slowly, he inserts
one, then two fmgei nsidc me. I gi nd I u mi hip >i aid, eager to meet
his fingers and the palm of his hand.
"Oh, Anastasia, you're so ready," he says.
He circles his finge i u 11 I i i n i bile bis ihunil i l
my clitoris, back and forth, once more. It's the only point on my body where he's
touching inc. and all the tension, all the anxiety oi'llte day. j, concentrated on this
Holy shit . . . it 's intense . . . and strange . . . the music .../ begin to huikl ■ ■ ■
thin hlii' 11 i i nd ill m nd I hcai a low buzzing
"Hush," he soothe*, and his lips are on mine. el'Iectn cly silencing me. 1 wel-
come the warmer, more intimate contact, kissing him voraciously. He breaks the
"This is a wand, baby. It vibrates."
He holds it against m chest, and it feels like a large ball-like object ibraling
against me. I shiver as it moves across my skin, down between my breasts, across
to first one, then the other nipple, and I'm awash will; .ensalion. tingling every-
I I III I
"Ah." I groan while Christian's fingers continue to move inside me. I'm
i lose . . . all this stimulation . . . Tilting my head back, I moan loudly and Christi-
an stills his fingers. All sensation stops.
"No! Christian." I plead tr; ing to thrust my laps forward for some friction.
"Still, baby." he says while my impending orgasm melts away. He leans for-
w ;ird once more and kisses inc.
"Frustrating, isn't it?" he murmurs.
Oh no! Suddenly I understand his game.
"Christian, please-"
"Hush," he says and kisses me. And he starts to move again — wand, fingers,
thumb — a lethal combination of sensual torture. He shifts so his body brashes
against mine. He's still dressed, and the soli denim of his jeans brushes against
my leg. his erection at my hip. So lanlalizingly close, lie brings me to the brink
i i i i [i i ing with i lull
"No," I mewl loudly.
He plants soft wet kisses on my shoulder as he withdraws his lingers from
me, and moves the wand down. U oscillates ocr m slomaeh, my belly, onto my
sex. againsl my clitoris. Fuck, it's intense.
"Ah!" I cry out. pulling hard on the restraints.
My body is so sensitized I feel I am going to explode, and just as I am, Chris-
tian stops again.
"Christian!" I cry out.
one thing and then . . " I lis oiee nails oil'.
"Christian, please!" I beg.
lie pushes the ne agaii id agai lopi |ust at the vital mo-
"Each time I stop, it feels more intense when I start again. Right?"
"Please," I whimper. My nerve endings are screaming for release.
The buzzing stops and Christian kisses me. He runs his nose down mine.
"You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met."
No, No, No.
"Christian, I never promised to obey you. Please, please — "
He moves in front of me, grabs my behind and pushes his hips againsl me.
making me gasp ti y in tubl g lim in I tit t f his jeans pressing
into me, barely containing his erection. W illi one hand he pulls off the blindfold
and grasps my chin, and I blink up into his scorching eyes.
"You drive me crazy." he whispeis. Hexing has hips against me once, twice,
three times more, causing my body to spark — ready to burn. And again he denies
me. I want him so badly. I need him so badly. I close my eyes and mutter a pray-
er. I can't help but feel I'm being punished. I'm helpless and he's ruthless. Tears
spring to my eyes. I don't know how far he's going to take this.
"Please," I whisper once more.
Bui he gazes down at me, implacable. He's just going to continue. For how
long? Can I play this game'.' ,Vo. Ao. ,V« / can V </o <*i». I know he's not going to
stop. He's going to eonlinue to lorlure me. His liand travels down my body once
more. Xo . . . And ihe clan; bursts ali die apprehension, the anxiety, and the fear
from the last couple of days oerv helming me anew as tears spring to my eyes. I
turn away from him. This is not love. It's revenge.
"Red," I whimper. "Red. Red." The tears course down my face.
He stills. "No!" He gasps, stunned. "Jesus Christ, no."
leaning down to une ii| n inkles, u Ink 1 pu m In , i, ,i Kinds indwecp.
Picking me up, he moves to the bed, sitting down and cradling me in his lap
while ! sod inconsolably . km overwhelmed . . m body wound up to breaking
point, my mind a blank, and my emotions scattered to the wind. He reaches be-
The cool sheets tcel It it 111
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Christian murmurs, his voice raw. He kisses my hair
Turning my face into his neck, I continue to cry, and it's a cathartic release.
So much has happened over the hist lew days tires tit computer rooms, car
chases, careers planned out tor me. slutly architects, armed lunatics in lite apart-
ment, arguments, his anger — and Christian has been away. I hate Christian going
away ... I use Ihe corner ok the sheet 10 w ipe my nose and gradually become
ill h t I t I i I ml h i t
"Please switch the music off." I sniff.
"Yes, of couisc i 'hi iii hi t lei i in pulls the temotc out
of his back pocket. 1 le presses a button and ihe piano music ceases, to be replaced
by m shuddering breaths. "Belter?" he asks.
Inod, my sobs easin 1 liai pes n i s , • il villi his thumb.
"Not a fan of Bach' s < ioldberg Variations?" he asks.
"Not that piece."
He gazes down at iik it ing u I . 1 p. lo hide the shame in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says again.
"Why did you do that?" My voice is barely audible as I try to process my
i thought nd Idlings.
lie shakes his head sadly and closes his eyes. "I got lost in the moment," he
says unconvincingly.
I frown at him, and he sighs. "Ana, orgasm denial is a standard tool in — You
never — " He stops. ! shift in his lap. and he winces.
Oh. I flush. "Sorry," I mutter.
I I lis I i udd nl ! 11 ith him that
both lying on the bed, me in his arms. My bra is uncomfortable, and I adjust it.
"Need a hand?" he asks quietly.
I shake my head. I don't want him to touch my breasts. He shifts so he's
looking down at me ind lenlali el ing hi i i his fingers genlK
down my face. Tears pool in my eyes again. How can he be so callous one minute
and so lender the next?
"Please don't cry," he whispers.
of need ... I feel numb. I want to curl up in a ball and withdraw. I blink, trying to
my eyes not leaving his. What am I going lo do w itli litis controlling man? Learn
to be controlled? I don't think so . . .
"I never what?" I ask
"Do as you're told. You changed your mind; you didn't tell me where you
were. Ana, I was in New York, powerless and livid. If I'd been in Seattle I'd have
brought you home."
He swallows, then closes his eyes. He doesn't have to answer, and I know
"You have to stop doing this," I murmur.
His brow furrows.
"For a start, you only end up feeling shiftier about yourself."
I le snorts. "That's true," he mutters. "I don't like to see you like this."
"And I don't like I ling like this. You / A thtt you hadn't
married a submissive."
"I know. I know." His voice is soft and raw.
"Well stop treating me like one. I'm sorry I didn't call you. I won't be so
selfish again. I know you worry about me."
He gazes at me. scnilinizing me closely his e>es bleak and anxious. "Okay.
Good," he says eventual!) . lie leans down, but pause-, before his lips touch mine,
silently asking if it's allowed. I raise my face to his, and he kisses me tenderly.
"Your hps lie 1 I i i been en he murmurs.
"I never promised to obey you, Christian," 1 whisper.
"Deal with it, please. For both our sakes. And I will try and be more consid-
erate of your . . . controlling tendencies."
He looks lost and vulnerable, completely at sea.
1 long m ng sigl Pk e ( B id i 1 / been here
"I know," he sas and blanehes. Lying back, he pats his free arm over his
face. 1 curl around him and lay my head on his chest. We both lie silent for a few
moments. His hand moves io Ihe end of my braid, lie palls the lie from il. freeing
my hair, and genih . rln IhmicalK combs his lingers through it. This is what this is
really about — his fear ... his irralioi il fear I a lei u image of Jack Hyde
slumped on the floor in my apartment with a Glock comes to mind . . . well,
"What did you mc n earlier. 1 u sa • i
He peers down at me. "You don't give up, do you?"
my hair.
"Give up? Never. Tell me. I don't like being kept in the dark. You seem to
have some overblown idea that I need protecting. You don't even know how to
shoot — I do. Do you think I can't handle whatever it is you won't tell me, Christi-
an? I've had your stalker c.-sub pull a giat on me. your pedophile cx-lover harass
mc — and don't look at mc like that." 1 snap when he scowls at mc. "Your mother
feels the same way about her."
"You talked to my mother about Llena?" C hristian's voice raises a few
"Yes, Grace and 1 talked about her."
He gapes at mc.
"She's very upset ahoul ii. Blames herself"
"I can't believe you spoke to my mother. Shit!" He lies down and puts his
arm over his face again.
"I didn't go into any specifics."
"I should hope not. Grace doesn't need all the gory details. Christ, Ana. My
dad, too?"
"No!" I shake m_v head vehemently. 1 don't have that kind of relationship
with Carrick. His comments about die prenup still sting. "'Anyway, you're trying
to distract me — again. Jack. What about him?"
Christian lifts his arm briefly and gazes at me, his expression unreadable,
i he put i n 1 i I this fae
"1 lyde is implicated in Charlie Tango's sabotage. The investigators found a
partial print just i !h i i match. Bui il i i
Hyde in the server room. He has convictions as a minor in Detroit, and the prints
matched his."
My mind reels as I try to absorb this information. Jack brought down Charlie
Tango? But Christian is on a roll. "This morning, a cargo van was found in the
garage here. Hyde was the driver. Yesterday, he delivered some shit to that new
"I don't remember his name."
"Me neither." Christian says. "But that's how Hyde managed to get into the
building legitimately. He was working for a delivery company — "
"And? What's so important about lite van""
"Christian, tell me."
"The cops found. . . things in the van." lie ,tops again and tighten his hold
around mc.
"What things?"
He's quiet for several moments, and I open my mouth to prompt him again,
but he speaks. "A mattress, enough horse tranquilizer to take down a dozen
horses, and a note." His voice has softened to barely a vv ia .per while horror and
revulsion roll off him.
Holy fuck.
"Note?" My voice mirrors his.
""Addressed to inc."
"What did it say?"
Christian shakes his head, indicating lie doesn't know or that he won't di-
6 Oh.
"Hyde came here last night n ilh the intention ol' kidnapping you." Christian
freezes, his face taut with tension. As he says those words, I recall the duct tape,
and a shudder runs through me. though deep dow n litis is not news to me.
"Shit," I mutter.
"Quite," Christian says tightly.
1 try to rememlx I i i ifficc. V u ' How did he think
he could get away with this? I mean he was pretty creepy, but this unhinged?
"I don't understand why," I murmur. "It doesn't make sense to me."
"I know. The police are digging further, and so is W elch. But we lltink
Detroit is the connection."
"Detroit'.'" I gaze at him. confused.
"Yeah. There's something there."
"I still don't understand."
Christian lifts his face and gazes at me, his expression unreadable. "Ana, I
was born in Detroit."
Chapter Twelve
"1 thought you were born here in Seattle." ! murmur. My mind races. What docs
this have to do with Jack'.' Christian raises the arm cmcring his iace. reaches be-
hind him, and grabs one oh [he pillows. Placing n under his head, he settles back
and gazes ai me wit!) a wary expression. Alter a moment he shakes his head.
"No. Elliot and I were both adopted in Detroit. We moved here shortly after
my adoption. Grace wanted to be on the west coast, away from the urban sprawl,
and she got a job at Northw est Hospital. 1 have very little memory of that time.
Mia was adopted here."
"So Jack is from Detroit?"
"Yes."
Oh . . . "How do you know?"
"I ran a background check when you went to work for him."
Of course he did. "Do you have a manila file on him, too?" I smirk.
Christian's mouth twists as lie hides his amusement. "I think it's pale blue."
II I _ r ers conlini tot t through m hail It s soothing.
"What docs it say in his file?"
t hristian blinks. Reaching down he strokes my cheek. "You really want to
"Is it that bad?"
He shrugs. "I've known worse," he whispers.
No! Is he referring to himself? And the image 1 have of Christian as a small,
dirty, fearful, lost boy comes to mind. I curl around him, holding him lighter,
pulling Ihe sheet o er him. a dll i eheel i linst his chest.
"What?" he asks, puzzled by my reaction.
"Nothing," I murmur.
"No, no. This works both ways, Ana. What is it?"
I glance up assessing his apprehensi e expression. Resting my cheek upon
his chest once more. 1 decide lo tell him. "Sometimes I picture you as a child . . .
Christian stiffens. "I wasn't talking about mc. I don't want your pity,
"It's not pity." ! whisper, appalled. "It's sympathy and sorrow — sorrow that
anyone could do that to a child." I take a deep steadying breath as my stomach
an — how can you say that? You live every day with your past. You told mc your-
self—Fifty Shades, remember'.'" My voice is barely audible.
Christian siiorls and runs las live hand through his hair, though lie remains si-
lent and tense beneath me.
"I know it's why you feel the need to control me. Keep me safe."
"And yet you choose to defy me," he murmurs baffled, his hand stilling in
my hair.
I frown. Holy cow! Do I do ' n I ib use tous removes her
hall-moon glasses and chews the end, pursing her lips and nodding. I ignore her.
This is confusing I'm his wile, not his submissive, not some company he's
acquired. I'm not the crack whore who was his mother . . . Fuck. The thought is
sickening. Dr. Flynn's words come back to me:
"Just keep doing what you 're doing. Christian is head over heels . . . It's a
delight to see. "
That's it. I'm just doing what I've always done. Isn't that what Christian
found ;itlraelic in t lie firsi place'.'
Oh, this man is so confusing.
"Dr Flynn said I should give you die henefi! of die doubl. I think I do — I'm
not sure. Perhaps it's my way of bringing you into the here and now — away from
your past," I whisper. "I don't know. I just can't seem to get a handle on how far
He's silent for a momcnl. "Fucking Flynn." ho nuilters lo himself.
"He said I should continue lo behac the wa l'e alwa s helmed will) you."
"Did lie now ?" C hristian says dryly.
Okay. Here goes nothing. "Christian, I know you loved your mom, and you
couldn't save her. It wasn't your job lo do that. Bui I'm not her."
He freezes again. "Don't," he whispers.
"No, listen. Please." I raise my head to stare into gray eyes that are paralyzed
•■Mill fear, lie's holding his breath. Oil. Christian . . . M heart constricts. "I'm not
her. I'm much stronger than she was. I have you, and you're so much stronger
now, and I know you love me. I love you, too," I whisper.
His brow creases as if my words were not what he expected. "Do you still
"Of course I do. Christian, 1 will always love you. No matter what you do to
me." Is this the reassurance he wants?
lie exhales and closes his eyes, placing his arm ocr his lace again, hut hug-
"Don't hide from t Reaching up. I gt i i ind pull his arm away
from his face. "You've spent your life hiding. Please don't, not from me."
He looks at me w ith inercdulin and I row ns. "Hiding?"
"Yes."
He shifts sudden!), roiling oet onto has side and nun ing mc so that I am ly-
ing beside hint on the bed. lie reaches up. smoothes m hair ofi'm lace and lucks
it behind my ear.
"You asked me earlier today if I hated you. I didn't understand why, and
now — " He stops, staring down at me as if I'm a complete conundrum.
"You slill think i hale you':" Now inv voice is incredulous.
"No." He shakes his head. "Not now." He looks relieved. "But I need to
know . . . why did you safe word, Ana?"
I blanch. What can I tell him? That he frightened me. That I didn't know if
he'd stop. That I begged him — and he didn't stop. That I didn't want things to es-
calate . . . like like thai one time in here. 1 shudder as 1 recall him whipping me
with his belt.
I swallow. "Because . . . because you were so angry and distant and . . . cold.
I didn't know how far you'd go."
His expression is unreadable.
"Were you going to let me come?" My oice is barely a whisper, and I feel a
blush steal over my cheeks, but I hold his gaze.
"No," he says eventually.
Holy crap. "That's . . . harsh."
His knuckle genii) grazes m cheek. ""But el'lectic." he murmurs. He gazes
down at me as if he's trying to see into my soul, his eyes darkening. After an
eternity, he murmurs, "I'm glad you did."
His lips twist in a sad smile. "Yes. I don't want to hurt you. I got carried
again. "I [appens a lot w ith sou."
Oh? And for some bizarre reason the thought pleases me ... I grin. Why does
that make me happy? He grins, too.
"I don't know why you're grinning, Mrs. Grey."
"Me neither."
He w raps himself around mc and places his head on my chest. We are a
tangle ok naked and denim-clad limbs, and satin red sheets. I stroke his back with
one hand and run tin 11 i >l ty other 1 it ough h 1 in He sighs and re-
laxes in my arms.
"It means I can trust you ... to stop me. I never want to hurt you," he mur-
murs. "I need—" He halts.
"You need what?"
"1 need control. Ana. Like 1 need you. If:- she only way i can funelion. ! can't
let go of it. I can't. I've tried . . . And yet, with you . . ." He shakes his head in
exasperation.
I swallow. This is the heart of our dilemma — his need for control and his
need forme. I refine lo beliee these are mutually exclusive.
"I need you, too," I whisper, hugging him lighter. "I'll try. Christian. I'll try
to be more considerate."
"I want you to need me," he murmurs.
Holy cow!
Ill ! 1 I I I 1 1
"I want to look after you."
"You do. All the time. I missed you so much while you were away."
""ou did'.'" He sounds so surprised.
"Yes, of course. 1 hate you going away."
I sense his smile. "You could have come with me."
"Christian, please. Let's not rehash lhat argument. 1 want to work."
He sighs as I work my lingers gently through his hair.
"I love you, too, Chi islian. i will always Lo e you."
We both lie still in the culm, quiet after out storm. Listening to the steady
Leal of his heart. I drift exhausted into sleep.
"No," he groans. He's sprawled out beside me, his head back, his eyes
revved shut, his face contorted in anguish.
Holy shit. He's having a nightmare.
"No!" he cries out again.
"Christian, wake up." I struggle to sit
le him. 1 grab his shoulders and shake hi
"Christian, please. Wake up!"
His eyes spring "per,. gra ;md wild, his pupil-, enlarged with fear. He stares
vacantly up at me.
I] i 1 LI le site
He blinks, looks around frantically, and frowns as he takes in our surround-
ings. Then his eyes arc back on mine. "Ana," he breathes, and with no preamble
whatsoever he grabs m face with both hands, pulls me down onto his chest, and
kisses me. Hard. His tongue invades my mouth, and he tastes of desperation and
need. Barely giving n ha I s I h i r. hi lips locked to mine
so that he's pressing nie into the hard mattress of the four-poster. One ofhis hands
clasps my jaw, the other spreads out on top of my head, keeping me still as his
knee parts my legs and he nestles, still clothed in his jeans, between my thighs.
"Ana," he gasps as if he can't believe I'm there with him. He gazes down at
mc for a split second il t i n the. Tl n his lips are on mine
again, plundering m mouth, taking all I hac to gie. lie groans loudly, flexing
his hips into me. His erection sheathed in denim pushes into my soft flesh. Oh . . .
I moan, and all the pent-up sexual tension of earlier erupts, resurfacing with a
vengeance. Hushing my system •■.villi desire and need. Drien by his demons, he
urgently kisses my face, my eyes, my cheeks, along my jaw.
"I'm here," I whisper, tning to calm hint, out healed, panting breath ming-
wclcomc.
"Me, too," I whisp urgent tin bod spent fori touch I want him. I
want him now. I want to heal him. I want to heal me ... I need this. His hand
Hoh shit Iwa- islec| Ic ,' „u a minute ago.
I le shifts, staring down at me for a split second, suspended abo e me.
"Yes. Please," I breathe, my voice hoarse and needy.
And in one s lit mo buries itself inside mc
"Ah!" I cry out, not from any pain, but from surprise at his alacrity.
He groans, and hi ips find mi e again In p sh . > mc, over and over,
his tongue possessing me. too lie moes frantically, compelled by his fear, his
lust, his desire, his — love? I don't know, but I meet him thrust for thrust, w clcom-
inghim.
"Ana," he growls almost inarticulately, and he comes powerfully, pouring
himself into mc, his face strained, hit. body rigid, before lie collapses with his full
weight onto me. pinning, and lie leaves me hanging . . . again
Holy shit. This is not my night. M> miter goddess is preparing to disembowel
herself. I hold him. draw ing in a lungful of air and practically writhing with need
beneath him. He cases out oi'me and holds me for minutes . . . many minutes. Fin-
till) he shakes his head and leans up on his elbows, taking some of his weight. He
gazes down at me as if seeing me for the first time.
"Oh, Ana. Sweet Jesus." He bends and kisses me tenderly.
"You okay?" I breathe, caressing his lovely face. He nods, but he looks
shaken and most definitely stirred. My own lost boy. He frowns and stares in-
tend} into m> exes as il finall; registering where he is.
"You?" he asks, concern in his voice.
"I in . . ." 1 w riggle beneath him. and al'let a moment he smiles, a slow carnal
"Mrs. Grey, you have needs," he murmurs. He kisses me swiftly, then scoots
off the bed.
Kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, he reaches up, grabs me just
above the knees and pulls me toward him so my behind is on the edge of the bed.
"Sit up," he mum I tin hit itlit I i m hair falling like t
veil around mc, down to no breasts. His gra; gaze holds mine as he gent I; pushes
my legs apart as far as they'll go. 1 lean back on my hands — knowing full well
what he's going to do. But . . . he's just . . . um . . .
"Y ou are so fucking beautiful. Ami." he breathes, and I watch his copper-
haired head dip and plant a trail of kisses up my right thigh, heading north. My
whole body clenches in anticipation. He glances up at me, his eyes darkening
through long lashes.
"Watch," he rasps then his mouth is on me.
Oh my. 1 cry out as the world is concentrated at the apex of my thighs, and
it's so erotic — Fuck — watching him. Watching his tongue against what feels like
the most sensitive part of my body. And he shows no mercy, teasing and taunting,
worshipping mc. My body tenses and my arms start to tremble from the strain of
staying upright.
"No ... ah," 1 murmur. Genii; ho i n >i i get inside me, and 1 can
tin Hi i i i i it t i id fingers on
and in me. Slowly and gcnlh . he massages lhal sweet, sweet spot deep inside me.
And that's it — I'm gone. I explode around him, crying out an incoherent rendition
of his name as my intense orgasm arches my back off the bed. I think I see stars
it's such a visceral primal feeling . . . Vaguely I'm aware that lie's nuzzling my
belly, giving sue soli, sweet hisses. Reaching down. ] caress his hair.
"I'm not finished with you ycl," he murmurs And before I've fully come
back to Seattle, Planet harlh. lie's reaching for me. grasping my hips and pulling
me off the bed to where's he's kneeling, and into his waiting lap and onto his
waiting erection.
I gasp as he fills me. Holy cow...
"Oh, baby." lie breathes as lie wraps his arms around me and stills, cradling
my head and kissing my face. I le Ilexes his hip,, and pleasure spikes hot and hard
from deep within mc. He reaches lot my behind and lifts me. rocking his groin
"Ah," I moan, and his lips are on mine again as he slowly, oh so slowly, lifts
gentle rhythm and to w herccr lie' 11 take me. 1 llc. my thighs, riding him ... he
feels so good. Leaning backward. ! lilt my head hack. my mouth open wide in a
silent expression of my pleasure. rc cling in his sw ect lovemaking.
"Ana," he breathe md he Icai i ing my throat Holding mc tight,
slowly easing in and out, pushing me . . . higher and higher ... so exquisitely
timed — a fluid carnal force Blissful pleasure radiates outward from deep, deep in-
"I love you, Ana," he whispers close to my ear, his voice low and harsh, and
he lifts mc again up. down. up. down. ! curl my hands back around his neck into
"I love you, too, Christian." Opening my eyes, I find he's gazing at mc, and
all I see is his love, shining bright and bold in die soft glow of the playroom light,
his nightmare seemingly forgotten. And as 1 feel nix bod;, build toward my re-
lease, 1 realize this is whai I warned this connection, this demonstration of our
love.
"Come for me, baby," he whispers, his voice low. I screw my eyes shut as my
body tightens at the low sound of his voice, and I come loudly, spiraling into an
intense climax He tills hi- forehead igainsi mine is he softly whispers my
name, wraps his arms around me. and finds his own release.
1 1c lifts me gently and lays me on the bed. I lie in his arms, wrung out and finally
sated. He nuzzles my neck.
"Better now?" he whispers.
"Hmm."
"Shall we go to bed, or do you want to sleep here?"
"Mrs. Grey, talk to me." He sounds amused.
"Is that the best you can do?"
"Come. Let me put you to bed. I don't like sleeping here."
Reluctantly. 1 shift and Uirn to lace him. "Wait." 1 whisper, lie blinks a! me.
looking all vide-c>ed and innocent, and al the same lime thoroughly fucked and
pleased with himself.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
lie nods, smiling smngl ike at i I 1 I 1 I am in
"Oh, C hristian," 1 scold and gently stroke his lovely face. "I was talking
about your nightmare."
His expression freezes momentarily, then he closes his eyes and tightens his
irms around me. burying I in n i
"Don't," he whispers, his voice hoarse and raw. My heart lurches and twists
once more in my ehesi. and I clutch him tightly, running my hands down his back
"I'm sorry," I vh in i t li Holy I —how can 1 keep
to cause him any more pain by making him relive the details. "It's okay," I mur-
mur softly, desperate lo bring him back to the playful bo of a moment ago. "It's
okay," I repeat over and over soothingly.
"Let's go to bed," he says quietly after a while, and he pulls away from me,
lea ing me cmpt i bin i es from the bed. I lblc after him, keep-
ing die satin -heel wrapped around me. and bend to pick up my clothes.
"Leave those." he says, and before 1 know it. he scoops me up in his arms. "I
don't want you to trip over this sheet and break your neck." I put my arms around
him marveling that he's recovered his composure, and nuzzle him as he carries
me downstairs to our bedroom.
My eyes spring open. Something is wrong. Christian is mil in bed, though it's still
dark. Glancing at the radio alarm, 1 see it's three twenty in the morning. Where's
Chrislian'.' Then i hear Ihc piano.
Quickly slipping out of bed, I grab my robe and run down the hallway to the
great room. The tune he's playing is so sad — a mournful lament that I've heard
him play before. I pause in the doora> and watch him in a pool of light while the
achingly sorrowful music fills the room, lie finishes then starts the piece again.
Why such a plaintive tune? I wrap my arms around myself and listen spellbound
as he plays. But m> heart aches. ( 'hristiun, why so sad? Is it because of me? Did I
do this'' When he finishes, only to start a third time, 1 can bear it no longer. He
doesn't look up is I i t iano. but shil ide so I n sit beside him on
the piano bench. He continues to play, and I put my head on his shoulder. He
kisses my hair but doesn't slop playing until he's finished the piece. 1 peek up at
him and he's staring down at me, warily.
"Did I wake you?" he asks.
"Only because you were gone. What's that piece called?"
"It's Chopin. It's one of his preludes in f minor." Christian pauses. "It's
Reaching over I take his hand. "You're reall i 1 t I ill this iren't you?
He snorts. "A deranged asshole gets into my apartment to kidnap my wife.
She won't do as she's told. She drives me crazy. She safe words on me." He
closes his eyes bneliy. and w lien he opens liicm again, they are stark and raws
I squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry."
He presses his forehead against mine. "I dreamed you were dead," he
whispers.
What?
"Lying on the floor — so cold — and you wouldn't wake up."
Oh, Fifty.
"Hey — it was just a bad dream." Reaching up, I clasp his head in my hands.
His eyes burn into i n I 1 iiguisl ill u erin I'm heic and I'm
cold without you in III In d. pi li ^ Ins hand and stand,
waiting to see if he'll follow me. Finally lie stands, too. He's wearing his pajama
bottoms, and they hang in that way he has, and I want to run my fingers along the
ii id I Iband. bill I i I in I l ! L u
When I wake he s curl d i d i 1 peacefnlly.1 elax and enjoy his en-
veloping heal, his skin on my skin. I lie cr siill. noi warning to disturb him.
Boy, what an evening. I feel like I've been ran over by a train — the freight
train that is my husband, i lard io beliee thai the man ly ing beside me. looking so
serene and young in his sleep, was so tortured last night . . . and so tortured me
last night. I gaze up at the ceiling, and it occurs to me that 1 always think of Chris-
tian as strong and d i ! reality is he fragile m lost boy. And
the irony is that he looks upon me as fragile and I don't think I am. Compared to
him I'm strong.
But am I strong enough for both of us? Strong enough to do what I'm told
and give him some peace of mind? I sigh. He's not asking that much of me. I flit
through our conversation of last night. Did c decide tiny thing other than to both
try harder .' The bottom line is that I love this man, and I need to chart a course for
ih tis. One thai let t i i n tdependet it > II n
for him. I am his more, and he is mine. 1 resolve to make a special effort this
chest, looking sleepily at me.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Did you sleep well?" He stretches out beside me.
"Once my husband stopped making that terrible racket on the piano, yes, I
did."
He smiles his shy smile, and I melt. "Terrible racket? I'll be sure to e-mail
"Miss Kafhie?"
1 giggle.
"Thai's a lovely sound." lie says. "Shall we have a heller day today?"
"Okay." I agree. "What do yon want to do?"
"After I have made love to my wife, and she's cooked me breakfast. I'd like
to take her to Aspen."
J gape al hint. "Aspen'.'"
"Yes."
"Aspen, Colorado?"
"The very same. Unless they've moved it. After all, you did pay twenty-four
thousand dollars for the experience."
I grin at him. "That was your money."
"Our money."
"It was your mones when I made the hid." ] roll ms eyes.
"Oh, Mrs. Grey, you and your eye rolling," he whispers as he runs his hand
up my thigh.
"Won't it take hours to get to Colorado?" I ask to distract him.
"Not hs jet he sa Ikil * hand reach ml chin
Of course, my husband has a jet. How could I forget? His hand continue;, to
skim up ms hods, lifting ins nightdress as it goes, and soon I've forgotten
Taylor drives us onto the tarmac at Sca-Tac and around to where the GEH jet is
waiting. It's a gray day in Seattle, but I refuse to let the weather dampen my soar-
ing spirits. Christian is in a much better mood. He's excited about something— lit
up like Christmas and twitching like a small boy with a big secret. I wonder what
scheme he's dreamed up. He looks dreamy, all tousled hair, white T-shirt and
black jeans. Not CEO-like at all today. He takes my hand as Taylor glides to a
stop at the loot of the jet slops.
"I have a surprise for soli." he murmurs and kisses my knuckles.
I grin at him. "Good surprise?"
Sawyer leaps out from the front and opens my door. Taylor opens Christian's
then retrieves out c i I mill tru 1 1 1 i the top of the stairs
when we enter the aircraft. 1 glance into the cockpit and ,ce First Ifficer Beighles
ippi itches on ll up t i trumcnt panel.
Christian and Slephan shake hands. ""< iood morning, sir." Stephan smiles.
"Thanks for doing this at such short notice." Christian grins back at him.
"Our guests here?"
"Yes sir."
Guests'! 1 turn and gasp. Kate, Elliot, Mia, and Ethan are all smiling and sit-
ting in the cream-colored leather seats. Wow! I spin around to Christian.
"Surprise!" he says.
"How? When? Who?" I mumble inarticulately, trying to contain my delight
and elation.
"You said you didn't see enough of our friends." i le shnigs and gi e» mc u
lopsided, apologetic smile.
"Oh, Christian, thank you." 1 throw my arms around his neck and kiss him
hard in front of everyone. He puts his hands on my hips, hooking his thumbs
through the bell loons of my jeans, and deepens the kiss.
""Keep das up and I'll drag >ou into the bedroom." he murmurs.
"You wouldn't dare," 1 whisper against his lips.
"Oh. Anaslasia." I le grins, shaking Ins head. I le releases mc and without fur-
ther preamble, stoops down. grab-, my thighs, and lifts me oxer his shoulder.
"Christian, put me do n!" I smack his behind.
I briefly catch Stephan's smile as he turns and heads into the cockpit. Taylor
is standing at the do i i ille his grin. Ignori g my pleas and my fu-
tile straggles, Christian strides through the narrow cabin past Mia and Ethan who
are facing each other in the single seals, pas! Kale and Elliot, who is whooping
"If you'll excuse me." he says to our lour guesls. "1 need to have a word with
"Christian!" I shout. "Put mc down!"
"All in good time, baby."
I have a brief view of Mia, Kate, and Elliot laughing. Damn it! This is not
funny, it's embarrassing. Ethan gawks at us, mouth open and utterly shocked, as
Christian closi i > il i or behind h nam I sc mc Idling mc slide
down his body slowly, so that I feel every hard sinew and muscle. He gives me
his boyish grin, thoroughly pleased with himself.
"That was quite a show. Mi Grc I nun , o ng my arms and regard-
ing him w hh faux indignation.
"That was fun. Mrs. ( ires ." And his grin n idens. Oh hay. I le looks so young.
"Are you going to follow, through?" 1 arch a brow, unsure how 1 feel about
litis. I mean, the others w ill hear us. for hea en's sake. Suddenly, I led shy. Glan-
cing anxiously at the bed. I feel a blush steal across im cheeks as I recall our wed-
ding night. We talked so much yesterday, did so much yesterday. I feel as if we
leaped some unknown hurdle but dun's die problem. Ids unknown My eyes
find Christian's inlci ! I I i i 1 i i k keep a straight face.
His grin is too infectious.
"I think it might be rude to keep our guests waiting," he says silkily as he
steps toward me When ilkl h ' I step back igainsl
the cabin wall and he imprisons me, the heat from his body holding mc in place.
1 le lean.-, dow n and run-, Ids nose along mine.