Darker (16 page)

“Wow. And the martial arts?”

“Elliot does judo. Mia put her foot down at age twelve and refused.” Ana knows I kickbox.

“I wish my mother had been that organized.”

“Dr. Grace is formidable when it comes to the accomplishments of her children.”

“She must be very proud of you. I would be,” Ana says warmly.

Oh, baby, you couldn’t be more wrong. Nothing is that simple.
I’ve been a big disappointment to my folks: school expulsions, dropping out of college, no relationships that they knew of…If Grace only knew the truth about my lifestyle.

If
you
only knew the truth, Ana.

Don’t go there, Grey.

“Have you decided what you’ll wear this evening? Or do I need to come and pick something for you?”

“Um, not yet. Did you choose all those clothes?”

“No, Anastasia, I didn’t. I gave a list and your size to a personal shopper at Neiman Marcus. They should fit. Just so you know, I have ordered additional security for this evening and the next few days. With Leila unpredictable and unaccounted for somewhere on the streets of Seattle, I think it’s a wise precaution. I don’t want you going out unaccompanied. Okay?”

She looks a little stunned but agrees, surprising me by acquiescing without argument.

“Good. I’m going to brief them. I shouldn’t be long.”

“They’re here?”

“Yes.”

She looks puzzled. But she hasn’t objected to the additional security, so while I have the upper hand, I pick up my empty plate and place it in the sink and leave Ana to finish her meal in peace.

The security team is gathered in Taylor’s office, seated at his round table. After our introductions I sit down and run through the evening’s event.

BRIEFING FINISHED, I RETURN
to my study to call my mother.

“Darling, how are you?” she enthuses into the phone.

“I’m well, Grace.”

“Are you coming this evening?”

“Of course. And Anastasia is coming, too.”

“She is?” She sounds surprised, but she recovers quickly. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. I’ll make room at our table.” She sounds too exuberant. I can only imagine her delight.

“I’ll see you this evening, Mother.”

“I look forward to it, Christian. Good-bye.”

There’s an e-mail from Flynn.

From:
Dr. John Flynn

Subject:
Tonight

Date:
June 11 2011 14:25

To:
Christian Grey

I look forward to meeting Anastasia.

JF

I bet you do, John.

It seems everyone is thrilled I have a date tonight.

Everyone, including me.

ANA IS LYING ACROSS
the bed in the submissive’s room, staring at her Mac. She’s engrossed in reading something on the Web.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

She startles, and for some reason looks guilty. I lie down beside her and see that’s she’s on a website with a page titled “Multiple Personality Disorder: The Symptoms.”

I understand that I have many issues, but fortunately schizophrenia is not one of them. I can’t hide my amusement at her amateur psychological sleuthing. “On this site for a reason?”

“Research. Into a difficult personality.”

“A difficult personality?”

“My own pet project.”

“I’m a pet project now? A sideline. Science experiment, maybe. When I thought I was everything. Miss Steele, you wound me.”

“How do you know it’s you?”

“Wild guess,” I tease.

“It’s true that you are the only fucked-up, mercurial control freak that I know intimately.”

“I thought I was the only person you know intimately.”

“Yes. That, too,” she replies, and an embarrassed flush turns her cheeks a fetching pink.

“Have you reached any conclusions yet?”

She turns to scrutinize me, her expression warm. “I think you’re in need of intense therapy.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear, pleased that she’s kept it long and I can still do this. “I think I’m in need of you,” I counter. “Here.” I give her the lipstick.

“You want me to wear this?”

I laugh. “No, Anastasia, not unless you want to. Not sure it’s your color.”

Scarlet red is Elena’s color. Though I don’t tell Ana that. She’ll combust. And not in a good way.

I sit up on the bed, cross my legs, and pull my shirt over my head. This is either a brilliant brain wave—or a stupid one. We’ll see. “I like your road-map idea.”

She looks puzzled.

“The no-go areas,” I prompt.

“Oh. I was kidding,” she says.

“I’m not.”

“You want me to draw on you, with lipstick?” She’s bewildered.

“It washes off. Eventually.”

She considers my proposition and a smile tugs at her lips. “What about something more permanent, like a Sharpie?”

“I could get a tattoo.”

“No to the tattoo!” She laughs, but her eyes are wide in horror.

“Lipstick, then,” I retort. Her laugh is infectious and I beam at her.

She shuts the Mac and I hold out my hands. “Come. Sit on me.”

She peels her shoes off and crawls over to me. I lay back, keeping my knees upright. “Lean against my legs.”

She sits astride me, excited at this new challenge.

“You seem—enthusiastic for this,” I note with irony.

“I’m always eager for information, Mr. Grey, and it means you’ll relax, because I’ll know where the boundaries lie.”

I shake my head. I hope this is a good idea. “Open the lipstick,” I instruct.

For once, she does as she’s told.

“Give me your hand.”

She holds up her free hand.

“The one with the lipstick!”

“Are you rolling your eyes at me?” she chides.

“Yep.”

“That’s very rude, Mr. Grey. I know some people who get positively violent at eye rolling.”

“Do you, now?” My tone is wry.

She places her hand with the lipstick in mine and I sit up suddenly, surprising her, so we’re nose to nose.

“Ready?” I whisper, trying to curb my anxiety, but panic starts to spread.

“Yes,” she responds, the word as soft as a summer breeze.

Knowing I’m about to overstep my bounds, the darkness is circling like a vulture, waiting to consume me. Taking her hand, I move it to the top of my shoulder and fear squeezes my ribs, expelling the air from my lungs.

“Press down.” I struggle to get the words out. She does, and I guide her hand around my arm socket and down the side of my chest. The darkness slides into my throat, threatening to choke me. Ana’s amusement is gone, replaced by her solemn and determined concentration. I fix my eyes on hers and read every nuanced thought and emotion in the depths of her irises, each a life buoy, keeping me from drowning, holding the darkness at bay.

She is my salvation.

I stop at the bottom of my rib cage and move her hand across my abdomen, the lipstick spilling its red trail as she paints my body. I’m panting, trying desperately to hide my fear. Each muscle is tense and standing proud as the red slices my flesh. I lean back, supporting myself on flexed, straining arms as I fight my demons and surrender myself to her gentle illustration. She’s halfway done when I let go and give her total control. “And up the other side,” I whisper.

With the same single-minded focus, Ana draws up my right side. Eyes impossibly large. Anguished. But holding my attention. When she reaches the top of my shoulder, she stops. “There, done,” she breathes, her voice husky with repressed emotion. She lifts her hand away from my body, giving me a brief respite.

“No, you’re not.” I draw a line with my finger around the base of my neck above my clavicle. Ana takes a deep breath and traces the lipstick along the same line. When she finishes, blue eyes meet gray.

“Now my back,” I instruct, and shift so that she clambers off me. I turn around, my back to her, and cross my legs. “Follow the line from my chest, all the way around to the other side.” My voice is hoarse and alien to me, like I’ve left my body entirely to watch a beautiful young woman tame a monster.

No. No.

Be in the moment, Grey.

Live this.

Feel this.

Conquer this.

I am at Ana’s mercy.

The woman I love.

The tip of the lipstick crosses my back as I hunch over and screw my eyes shut, tolerating the pain. It disappears.

“Around your neck, too?” Her voice is plaintive. Full of reassurance.
My life buoy
. I nod and the pain is back, piercing my skin beneath my hairline.

Then, just as suddenly, it’s gone again.

“Finished,” she says, and I want to shout my relief from the helipad on Escala. I turn to face her and she’s watching me. And I know I’ll shatter like a shard of glass if I see any pity on her face…but there’s none. She’s waiting. Patient. Kind. Controlled. Compassionate.

My Ana.

“Those are my boundaries,” I whisper.

“I can live with those. Right now I want to launch myself at you,” she says, her eyes shining.

At last!

My relief is a wicked smile, and I hold out my hands in invitation. “Well, Miss Steele, I’m all yours.”

She squeals with glee and throws herself into my arms.

Whoa!

She knocks me off balance, but I recover and twist so that she lands on the bed beneath me, grasping my biceps. “Now, about that rain check.” I kiss her, hard. Her fingers curl in my hair and tug as I consume her. She moans, her tongue entwined with mine, and there’s a reckless, wild abandon in our kissing. She’s driving the darkness out and I’m drinking in her light. Adrenaline is fueling my passion and she’s matching me kiss for kiss. I want her naked. I sit her up and drag her T-shirt over her head and toss it to the floor.

“I want to feel you.” My words are feverish against her lips as I undo her bra and throw it aside. I lay her back down on the bed and kiss her breast, my lips toying with one nipple while my fingers tease the other. She cries out when I suck and tug hard.

“Yes, baby, let me hear you,” I breathe against her skin.

She squirms beneath me as I continue my sensual worship of her breasts. Her nipples respond to my touch, growing longer and harder as Ana writhes to a rhythm set by her passion.

She is a goddess.

My goddess.

I undo the button on her jeans as she twists her hands in my hair. I make short work of her zipper and slip my hand inside her panties. My fingers slide with ease to their goal.

Fuck.

She thrusts her pelvis up to meet the heel of my hand and I press against her clitoris as she mewls beneath me. She’s slick and ready. “Oh, baby,” I whisper, and lean up and hover over her, watching her wild expression. “You’re so wet.”

“I want you,” she whimpers.

I kiss her again as my hand moves against and inside her. I’m greedy. I want all of her. I need all of her.

She’s mine.

Mine.

I sit up and grab the hem of her jeans, and in one swift tug they’re off. I hook my fingers in her panties and they follow. I stand and out of my pocket take a foil packet and toss it at her. I’m relieved to remove my jeans and underwear.

Ana rips open the packet and eyes me hungrily when I lie down beside her. Slowly she rolls the condom over me and I grab her hands and roll onto my back.

“You. On top,” I insist, and I sit her astride me. “I want to see you.”

Slowly I ease her down onto me.

Fuck. She. Feels. So. Good.

I close my eyes and flex my hips as she takes me, and I exhale with a long, loud groan. “You feel so good.” I tighten my fingers around hers. I don’t want to let her go.

And she rises and falls, her body embracing mine. Her breasts bouncing as she does. I let go of her hands, knowing she’ll respect the road map, and I grab her hips. She places her hands on my arms as I rise up and thrust into her.

She cries out.

“That’s right, baby, feel me,” I whisper.

She tips her head back and becomes the perfect counterpoint.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

I lose myself in our shared rhythm, reveling in every precious inch of her. She’s panting and moaning. And I watch her take me, over and over. Eyes closed. Head back in ecstasy. She’s magnificent. She opens her eyes.

“My Ana.” My lips form the words.

“Yes. Always,” she cries.

And her words call to my soul and tip me over the edge. I close my eyes and surrender to her once more.

She cries out as she finds her own release, pulling me to mine as she collapses on top of me.

“Oh, baby,” I grunt, and I’m spent.

HER HEAD LOLLS ON
my chest, but I don’t care. She’s subdued the darkness. I caress her hair and with tired fingers I stroke her back as we both catch our breath.

“You are so beautiful,” I murmur, and it’s only when Ana lifts her head that I realize I’ve said the words out loud. She eyes me with skepticism.

When will she learn to take a compliment?

I sit up quickly, catching Ana off-guard. But I hold her in place and we’re face to face again.

“You. Are. Beautiful.” I emphasize each word.

“And you’re amazingly sweet sometimes.” She leans forward and gives me a chaste kiss.

I lift her up and she winces as I ease out of her. I kiss her gently. “You have no idea how attractive you are, do you?”

She looks nonplussed.

“All those boys pursuing you, that isn’t enough of a clue?”

“Boys? What boys?”

“You want the list? The photographer, he’s crazy about you; that boy in the hardware store; your roommate’s older brother. Your boss.” That untrustworthy fucker.

“Oh, Christian, that’s just not true.”

“Trust me. They want you. They want what’s mine.” I tighten my hold on her and she rests her forearms on my shoulders, her hands in my hair. And she studies me with amused tolerance.

“Mine,” I assert.

“Yes. Yours.” She gives me an indulgent smile. “The line is still intact,” she continues. And draws her finger over the lipstick mark on my shoulder.

I stiffen, alarmed.

“I want to go exploring,” she whispers.

“The apartment?”