Darker (30 page)

“I’ll tell you. No safe word,” she says—to reassure me, I think.

“We’re lovers, Anastasia. Lovers don’t need safe words.” I frown. “Do they?” This is something I know nothing about.

“I guess not,” she responds. “I promise.”

I need to know she will communicate with me if I go too far. Her expression is earnest and full of desire. I unbutton her shirt and let it fall open, and the sight of her breasts is arousing. Very arousing. She looks amazing. From behind her I pick up the cue.

“You play well, Miss Steele. I must say I’m surprised. Why don’t you sink the black?”

She purses her lips, then with a defiant look, she reaches for the cue ball and, bending over the table, lines up the shot. As she does I go and stand behind her and place my hand on her right thigh. She tenses as I run my fingers to her ass and back down her thigh, lightly teasing her.

“I am going to miss if you keep doing that,” she complains, her voice husky.

“I don’t care if you hit or miss, baby. I just wanted to see you like this, partially dressed, stretched out on my billiard table. Do you have any idea how hot you look at this moment?”

She blushes and toys with the white as she tries to line it up. I caress her ass. Her beautiful ass, visible because she’s wearing a thong.

“Top left,” she says, and hits the cue ball with the tip of the cue. I smack her hard and she yelps. The white kisses the black, but the black bounces off the cushion, missing the pocket.

I caress her ass again. “Oh, I think you need to try that again. You should concentrate, Anastasia.”

She wiggles her behind beneath my hand, like she’s begging for more.

She’s enjoying this far too much, so I stroll to the end of the table to reset the black ball, and, picking up the white, I run it along the table back to her.

She catches the ball and starts lining it up once more.

“Uh-uh,” I warn. “Just wait.”

Not so fast, Miss Steele.

I wander back and stand behind her again, but this time I stroke my hand over her left thigh, and her ass.

I love her ass.

“Take aim,” I whisper.

She moans and puts her head on the table.

Don’t give up yet, Ana.

She takes a deep breath and, raising her head, moves to her right and I follow her. She bends, stretches over the table again, and hits the cue ball. As the ball flies up the baize, I smack her again. Hard. The black misses.

“Oh no,” she says and groans.

“Once more, baby. And if you miss this time, I’m really going to let you have it.” I set up the black again and wander back until I’m standing behind her and caressing her beautiful behind again. “You can do it,” I breathe.

She pushes her backside into my hand and I give her a playful smack.

“Eager, Miss Steele?” I ask.

She moans in reply.

“Well, let’s get rid of these.” I slide the thong down her legs, removing it and dropping it on her discarded jeans. While kneeling behind her, I kiss each cheek of her ass. “Take the shot, baby.”

She’s agitated, all fingers and thumbs, and she fumbles for the cue ball, lines it up, hits it, but in her impatience misses the shot. She scrunches up her eyes, waiting for me to spank her, but instead I lean over her, pressing her onto the baize. I take the cue from her hand and push it to the side.

Now for some real fun.

“You missed,” I whisper in her ear. “Put your hands flat on the table.”

My erection is fighting with my fly.

“Good. I’m going to spank you now, and next time, maybe you won’t.” I move beside her so I have a better aim. She groans and closes her eyes, and her breathing is getting louder. I caress her behind with one hand. With the other I hold her down and twist my fingers in her hair.

“Open your legs,” I tell her, and reach for the ruler in my pocket. She hesitates, so I smack her with the ruler. It makes a really satisfying noise as it cracks across her ass, and she gasps but says nothing, so I hit her again.

“Legs,” I order. She complies and I strike her again. She scrunches up her eyes as she takes the pain, but she doesn’t ask me to stop.

Oh, baby.

I spank her again, and again, and she moans. Her skin is turning pink beneath the ruler and my jeans are becoming impossibly tight as they restrict my arousal. I smack her again and again. And I’m lost. Lost in her. Owned by her. She’s doing this for me. And I love it. I love her.

“Stop,” she says.

And I drop the ruler without thinking and release her.

“Enough?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“I want to fuck you now,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“Yes,” she pleads.

She wants this, too.

Her ass is pink and she’s dragging air into her lungs.

I tug my fly open, allowing my cock some room, and then insert two fingers inside her, moving them in circles, reveling in her readiness.

I make quick work of putting on a condom, then steady myself behind her and slowly ease myself into her.
Oh yes.
This is without a doubt my favorite place in the world.

I ease out of her, holding her hips, then slam into her hard so that she cries out.

“Again?” I ask.

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m fine. Lose yourself. Take me with you.”

Oh, Ana, with pleasure.

I slam into her once more and set up a slow but grueling rhythm, taking her again and again and again. She moans and cries out as I claim her. Every inch. Mine.

She starts to quicken—she’s nearly there—and I increase the pace, listening to her cries until she orgasms around me, crying out and taking me with her, so I call out her name and empty my soul inside her.

I collapse on top of her as I catch my breath. I’m filled with gratitude and humility. I love her. I want her. Always.

I pull her into my arms and we sink to the floor, where I cradle her against my chest. I never want to let her go. “Thank you, baby,” I whisper, and cover her face in soft kisses. She opens her eyes and gives me a drowsy, sated smile. I tighten my hold on her and stroke her cheek. “Your cheek is pink from the baize.”

Matches your ass, baby.

Her smile widens under my tender ministration. “How was that?” I ask.

“Teeth-clenchingly good,” she says. “I like it rough, Christian, and I like it gentle, too. I like that it’s with you.”

I close my eyes and marvel at the beautiful young woman in my arms. “You never fail, Ana. You’re beautiful, bright, challenging, fun, sexy, and I thank Divine Providence every day that it was you who came to interview me and not Katherine Kavanagh.” I kiss her hair and she yawns, making me smile. “I’m wearing you out. Come. Bath, then bed.”

I stand and pull her to her feet. “Do you want me to carry you?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, but you’d better get dressed—we don’t know who we’ll meet in the hallway.”

IN THE BATHROOM,
I turn on the faucet and pour a copious amount of bath oil into the streaming water.

I help Ana out of her clothes and hold her hand as she steps in. I follow her quickly and we sit at opposite ends while the bath fills with hot water and fragrant foam.

I grab some body wash and with it begin to massage Ana’s left foot, my thumbs rubbing her instep.

“Oh, that feels so good.” She closes her eyes and tips back her head.

“Good.” I’m enjoying her pleasure. Her hair is tied in a ponytail that sits precariously in a loose bun on top of her head. A few tendrils escape, and her skin looks dewy and a little sun-kissed from our afternoon on
The Grace.

She’s stunning.

It’s been a bewildering couple of days; Leila’s aberrant behavior, Elena’s interference, and Ana, steadfast and strong through it all. It’s been humbling. She humbles me. Most of all I’ve enjoyed sharing her happiness. I like to see her happy. Her joy is my joy.

“Can I ask you something?” she murmurs, cocking one eye open.

“Of course. Anything, Ana, you know that.”

She sits up and squares her shoulders.

Oh no.

“Tomorrow, when I go to work, can Sawyer just deliver me to the front door of the office, then pick me up at the end of the day? Please, Christian. Please,” she says quickly.

I stop my massage. “I thought we agreed.”

“Please.”

Why does she feel so passionately about this?

“What about lunchtime?” I ask, anxious once more about her safety.

“I’ll make myself something to take from here so I don’t have to go out. Please.”

“I find it very difficult to say no to you,” I admit, kissing her instep. I want her safe and, until Leila’s apprehended, I’m not sure that she will be.

Ana’s giving me the big blue eyes.

“You won’t go out?” I ask.

“No.”

“Okay.”

She smiles, grateful, I think. “Thank you,” she says, spilling water over the side of the bath as she moves to her knees. She places her hands on my upper arms and kisses me.

“You’re most welcome, Miss Steele. How’s your behind?”

“Sore. But not too bad. The water is soothing.”

“I’m glad you told me to stop,” I say.

“So is my behind.”

I grin. “Let’s go to bed.”

I BRUSH MY TEETH
and wander back into my bedroom, where Ana is in bed.

“Didn’t Ms. Acton provide any nightwear?” I ask. I’m sure she has some silk and satin nightgowns.

“I have no idea. I like wearing your T-shirts,” she replies, and her eyelids droop.

Boy, she’s exhausted. I lean forward and kiss her forehead.

I still have some work to do, but I want to stay with Ana. I’ve been in her company all day, and it’s been lovely.

I never want this day to end.

“I need to work. But I don’t want to leave you alone. Can I use your laptop to log in to the office? Will I disturb you if I work from here?”

“S’not my laptop,” she mumbles, and closes her eyes.

“Yes, it is,” I whisper, and I sit down beside her and open her MacBook Pro. I click on Safari, log in to my e-mail, and begin to work through them.

Once that’s done, I e-mail Taylor and let him know that I’d like Sawyer to accompany Ana tomorrow. The only outstanding detail is deciding where Sawyer will be while Ana is at work.

This we will figure out in the morning.

I check my schedule. I have a meeting at 8:30 with Ros and Vanessa in procurement to discuss the conflict mineral issue.

I’m tired.

Ana is fast asleep as I lay down beside her. I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath. Over such a short time she has become so dear to me.

“Ana, I love you,” I whisper. “Thank you for today. Please stay.” And I close my eyes.

S
eattle’s morning news wakes me with a report about the Angels’ upcoming game with the Mariners. When I turn my head, Ana is awake and watching me. “Good morning,” she says with a bright smile. She caresses my stubbly cheek with her fingers and kisses me.

“Good morning, baby.” I’m surprised that I’ve slept so long. “I usually wake before the alarm goes off.”

“It’s set so early,” Ana whines.

“That it is, Miss Steele. I have to get up.” I kiss her and bound out of bed.

In my closet, I pull on my sweats and grab my iPod. I check on Ana before I leave; she’s gone back to sleep.

Good. She’s had an action-packed weekend. As have I.

Yes. What a weekend.

I resist the urge to kiss her good-bye, and let her sleep. Glancing through the windows, I see that the sky is overcast, but I don’t think it’s raining. I’ll chance a run, rather than my gym.

“Mr. Grey?” Ryan accosts me in the foyer.

“Good morning, Ryan.”

“Sir. You’re going out?” He probably thinks he needs to join me.

“I’ll be fine, Ryan. Thank you.”

“Mr. Taylor—”

“I’ll be fine.” I step into the elevator and leave Ryan in the foyer looking uncertain, probably second-guessing his decision. Leila was never one for an early morning…just like Ana. I think I’ll be safe.

It’s drizzling outside. But I don’t care. With “Bittersweet Symphony” blasting in my ears I set off, sprinting down Fourth Avenue.

My mind clouds with chaotic images of all that has happened over the last few days: Ana at the ball, Ana on my boat, Ana at the hotel.

Ana. Ana. Ana.

My life has been completely overturned to the point that I’m not sure I recognize myself.

Elena’s words come back to me
: “Have you turned your back on who you are?”

Have I?

“I can’t change—”
The words from the song echo through my head.

The truth is, I like being in her company. I like having her in my home. I’d like her to stay. Permanently. She’s brought humor, restful sleep, vitality, and love into my monochrome existence. I didn’t know I was lonely until I met her.

But she won’t want to move in, will she? While Leila is still at large it makes sense for her to stay, but once she’s found, Ana will go. I can’t make her stay, though part of me would like to. But in the interim, if she ever finds out the truth about me, she’ll leave and never want to see me again.

No one can love a monster.

And when she leaves…

Hell.

I run harder and faster, trying to clear my confusion until I’m conscious only of my bursting lungs and my Nikes hitting the ground.

MRS. JONES IS IN
the kitchen when I get back from my run. “Good morning, Gail.”

“Mr. Grey, good morning.”

“Did Taylor tell you about Leila?”

“Yes, sir. I hope you find her. She needs help.” Gail’s face is full of concern.

“She does.”

“I understand Miss Steele is still here.” She gives me that weird little smile she has whenever we talk about Ana.

“I think she’ll be staying as long as Leila is a threat. She’ll need a packed lunch today.”

“Okay. What would you like for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs, toast.”

“Very good, sir.”

ONCE I’M SHOWERED AND
dressed, I decide to wake Ana. She’s still fast asleep. I kiss her temple. “Come on, sleepyhead, get up.” Her eyes open and close again, and she takes a deep breath.

“What?” I ask.

“I wish you’d come back to bed.”

Don’t tempt me, baby.

“You are insatiable, Miss Steele. As much as that idea appeals, I have an eight-thirty meeting, so I have to go shortly.”

Startled, Ana looks at the clock, pushes me aside to leap out of bed, and dashes into the bathroom. Shaking my head, amused at her sudden burst of energy, I pop a few condoms into my pants pocket, then saunter into the kitchen for some breakfast.

You never know, Grey.
I’ve learned that it’s good to be prepared around Anastasia Steele.

Mrs. Jones is making coffee.

“Your scrambled eggs will be ready in a moment, Mr. Grey.”

“Great. Ana will join me shortly.”

“Shall I make her scrambled eggs?”

“I think she likes pancakes and bacon.”

Gail places a coffee and my breakfast at one of the places she’s set at the kitchen counter.

Ana appears about ten minutes later, wearing some of the clothes I bought her.

A silk blouse and a gray skirt. She looks different.

Sophisticated.

Elegant.

She’s beautiful. Not a gauche student but a confident young working woman.

I approve and I wrap my arm around her. “You look lovely,” I say, kissing her behind her ear. My only misgiving about her appearance is that she has to spend time, looking like this, with her boss.

Don’t dwell, Grey. This is her choice. She wants to work.

I release her when Gail places her breakfast on the bar. “Good morning, Miss Steele,” she says.

“Oh, thank you. Good morning,” Ana replies.

“Mr. Grey says you’d like to take lunch with you to work. What would you like to eat?”

Ana shoots me a look.

Yeah, baby. I was serious. No going out.

“A sandwich. Salad. I really don’t mind.” She gives Gail an appreciative smile.

“I’ll rustle up a packed lunch for you, ma’am.”

“Please, Mrs. Jones, call me Ana.”

“Ana,” Gail says.

“I have to go, baby. Taylor will come back and drop you at work with Sawyer.”

“Only to the door,” she reiterates.

“Yes. Only to the door.” That’s what we agreed. “Be careful, though,” I add in a hushed tone. Standing, I grasp her chin and give her a swift kiss. “Laters, baby.”

“Have a good day at the office, dear,” she calls after me, and though it’s a corny thing to say—it delights me.

This feels so
normal.

In the elevator Taylor greets me with an update. “Sir, there’s a coffee shop opposite SIP. I think Sawyer can station himself there during the day.”

“If he needs backup? You know, bathroom breaks.”

“I’ll send Reynolds or Ryan.”

“Okay.”

I’D FORGOTTEN THAT ANDREA
is out for her wedding but she won’t be having much of a honeymoon if she’s back at work tomorrow. The woman who’s replaced her and whose name I still can’t remember is browsing the
Vogue
Facebook page when I arrive. “No social media during office hours,” I say with a grunt.

Rookie mistake. But she should know this. She’s already an employee here.

She’s startled. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Grey. I didn’t hear you arrive. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Yes. You may. A macchiato.”

I shut my office door and, at my desk, switch on my computer. There’s an e-mail from the Saab dealership: Ana’s car will arrive today. I forward the e-mail to Taylor so he can organize delivery, thinking that it will be a nice surprise for Ana this evening. Next, I e-mail Ana.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Boss

Date:
June 13 2011 08:24

To:
Anastasia Steele

Good morning, Miss Steele

I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite of all the drama.

I hope you never leave, ever.

And just to remind you that the news of SIP is embargoed for four weeks.

Delete this e-mail as soon as you’ve read it.

Yours

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. & your boss’s boss’s boss

I check Andrea’s notes. The replacement’s name is Montana Brooks. She knocks and brings in my coffee.

“Ros Bailey is running a little late, but
Vanessa Conway is here.”

“Let her wait for Ros.”

“Yes, Mr. Grey.”

“I need some ideas for wedding presents.”

Ms. Brooks looks taken aback. “Well, it depends how well you know the person and how much you’d like to spend and—”

I don’t need a lecture. I hold up my hand. “Write them down. It’s for my PA.”

“Does she have a bridal registry?”

“A what?”

“A bridal registry at a store?”

“I don’t know. Find out.”

“Yes, Mr. Grey.”

“That will be all.”

She leaves.
Thank God Andrea’s back tomorrow.

Welch’s report on Jack Hyde is in my inbox. While I wait for Ros, I take the opportunity to look it over.

MY MEETING WITH ROS
and Vanessa is brief. Vanessa and her team are conducting a thorough audit of all our supply chains, and they are proposing we source our
cassiterite and wolframite from Bolivia and our tantalum from Australia to avoid the conflict mineral problem. It will be more expensive but will keep us on the right side of the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. And it’s what we, as a company, should be doing.

When they leave, I check my e-mail. There’s one from Ana.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Bossy

Date:
June 13 2011 09:03

To:
Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

Are you asking me to move in with you? And, of course, I remembered that the evidence of your epic stalking capabilities is embargoed for another four weeks. Do I make a check out to Coping Together and send to your dad? Please don’t delete this e-mail. Please respond to it.

ILY xxx

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

Am I asking her to move in with me?

Shit.

Grey, this is a bold, sudden move.

I could look after her. Full-time.

She’d be mine. Really mine.

And deep down I know there is only one answer.

A resounding yes.

I ignore all her other questions and respond.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Me, Bossy?

Date:
June 13 2011 09:07

To:
Anastasia Steele

Yes. Please.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

While I wait for her response I read through the rest of the report on Jack Hyde. On the surface, his background check seems fine. He’s successful and earns a decent salary. He’s from humble beginnings and seems bright and ambitious, but there’s something unusual about his career path. Who, in publishing, starts in New York, then works at various publishers across the U.S., ending up in Seattle?

It makes no sense.

He doesn’t seem to have had any long-term relationships, and he never keeps an assistant for more than three months.

That means Ana’s time with him is limited.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Flynnisms

Date:
June 13 2011 09:20

To:
Christian Grey

Christian

What happened to walking before we run?

Can we talk about this tonight, please?

I’ve been asked to go to a conference in New York on Thursday.

It means an overnight stay on Wednesday.

Just thought you should know.

A x

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

She doesn’t want to move in with me. This is not the news I wanted.

What did you expect, Grey?

At least she wants to discuss it this evening, so there’s hope. But then she also wants to fuck off to New York.

Well, that sucks.

I wonder if this is a conference on her own.

Or with Hyde?

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
WHAT?

Date:
June 13 2011 09:21

To:
Anastasia Steele

Yes. Let’s talk this evening.

Are you going on your own?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Jack Hyde must be a prick to work for if he doesn’t keep an assistant for more than three months. I know I’m an asshole, but Andrea’s worked for me for nearly a year and a half.

I didn’t know she was getting married.

Yes. That’s pissed me off, but before her there was Helena. She was with me for two years, and now she works in HR, recruiting our engineers.

While I wait for Ana’s answer, I read the final page of the report.

And there it is. Three hushed-up harassment claims at his previous publishers and two official warnings at SIP.

Three?

He’s a fucking creep.
I knew it.
Why wasn’t this in his employee file?

He was all over Ana at the bar. Invading her space. Like the photographer.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
No Bold Shouty Capitals on a Monday Morning!

Date:
June 13 2011 09:30

To:
Christian Grey

Can we talk about this tonight?

A x

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

Evasive, Miss Steele.

It’s a trip with him.

I know it.

She looked sensational this morning.

He’s planned it, I bet.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
You Haven’t Seen Shouty Yet.

Date:
June 13 2011 09:35

To:
Anastasia Steele

Tell me.

If it’s with the sleazeball you work with, then the answer is no, over my dead body.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I hit send and then buzz Ros.

“Christian,” she answers immediately.

“There’s a lot of unnecessary expenditure at SIP. They’re hemorrhaging money and we need to put a stop to it. I want a moratorium on all nonessential peripheral spending. Travel. Hotels. Hospitality. All the T&E. Especially for junior staff. You know the drill.”