Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian (32 page)

From my drawer of toys I fish out one of the cable ties I bought from Clayton’s, and a pair of scissors. “Boring you, am I, Miss Steele?” I ask, masking my sympathy. She startles awake and regards me guiltily. “Stand up,” I order.

Slowly she gets to her feet.

“You’re shattered, aren’t you?”

She nods with a bashful smile.

Oh, baby, you’ve done so well.

“Stamina, Miss Steele. I haven’t had my fill of you yet. Hold out your hands in front, as if you’re praying.”

A crease mars her forehead for a moment, but she presses her palms together and holds up her hands. I fasten the cable tie around her wrists. Her eyes flash to mine with recognition.

“Look familiar?” I give her a smile and run my finger around the plastic, checking that there’s enough room and it’s not too tight. “I have scissors here.” I bring them into her view. “I can cut you out of this in a moment.” She looks reassured. “Come.” Taking her clasped hands, I lead her to the far corner of the four-poster bed. “I want more—much, much more,” I whisper in her ear as she stares down at the bed. “But I’ll make this quick. You’re tired. Hold on to the post.”

Halting, she grasps the wooden pillar.

“Lower,” I order. She moves her hands down to the base until she’s bending over. “Good. Don’t let go. If you do, I’ll spank you. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she says.

“Good.” I grab her hips and lift her toward me so she’s properly positioned, her beautiful behind in the air and at my disposal. “Don’t let go, Anastasia,” I warn her. “I’m going to fuck you hard from behind. Hold the post to support your weight. Understand?”

“Yes.”

I smack her hard across her backside.

“Yes, Sir,” she says immediately.

“Part your legs.” I push my right foot against hers, widening her stance. “That’s better. After this, I’ll let you sleep.”

Her back is a perfect curve, each vertebra outlined from her nape to her fine, fine ass. I trace the line with my fingers. “You have such beautiful skin, Anastasia,” I say to myself. Bending over her, I follow the path my fingers have taken with tender kisses down her spine. As I do, I palm her breasts, trapping her nipples between my fingers, and tug. She writhes beneath me, and I plant a soft kiss at her waist, then suck and gently nip her skin while working her nipples.

She whimpers. I stop and stand back to admire the view, growing harder just looking at her. Reaching for a second condom from my pocket, I quickly kick my jeans off and open the foil packet. Using both hands, I wrap it around my cock.

I’d like to claim her ass. Now. But it’s too soon for that.

“You have such a captivating, sexy ass. What I’d like to do to it.” I stroke my hands over each cheek, fondling her, then slide two fingers inside her, stretching her.

She whimpers again.

She’s ready.

“So wet. You never disappoint, Miss Steele. Hold tight. This is going to be quick, baby.”

Clutching her hips, I position myself at the entrance of her vagina, then reach up, grab her braid, wind it around my wrist, and hold it tightly. With one hand on my cock and the other around her hair, I slide into her.

She. Is. So. Fucking. Sweet.

Slowly I slide out of her, then grip her hip with my free hand and tighten my hold on her hair.

Submissive.

I slam into her, forcing her forward with a cry.

“Hold on, Anastasia!” I remind her. If she doesn’t she might get hurt.

Breathless, she pushes back against me, bracing her legs.

Good girl.

Then I start pounding into her, eliciting small, strangled cries from her as she clings to the post. But she doesn’t back down. She pushes back.

Bravo, Ana.

And then I feel it. Slowly. Her insides curling around me. Losing control, I slam into her, and still. “Come on, Ana, give it to me,” I growl, as I come, hard, her release prolonging mine as I hold her up.

Gathering her in my arms, I lower us to the floor with Ana on top of me, both of us facing the ceiling. She’s utterly relaxed, exhausted no doubt; her weight a welcome comfort. I stare up at the karabiners, wondering if she’ll ever let me suspend her.

Probably not.

And I don’t care.

Our first time together in here, and she’s been a dream. I kiss her ear. “Hold up your hands.” My voice is husky. Slowly, she raises them as if they’re weighted with concrete, and I slide the scissors beneath the cable tie.

“I declare this Ana open.” I murmur, and snip, freeing her. She giggles, her body juddering against mine. It’s a strange and not unwelcome feeling that makes me grin.

“That is such a lovely sound,” I whisper as she rubs her wrists. I sit up so that she’s in my lap.

I love making her laugh. She doesn’t laugh enough.

“That’s my fault,” I admit to myself as I rub some life back into her shoulders and arms. She turns her face to me with a weary, searching look. “That you don’t giggle more often,” I clarify.

“I’m not a great giggler,” she says, and yawns.

“Oh, but when it happens, ’tis a wonder and joy to behold.”

“Very flowery, Mr. Grey,” she says, teasing me.

I smile. “I’d say you’re thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep.”

“That wasn’t flowery at all,” she scoffs, scolding me.

Lifting her off my lap so I can stand up, I reach for my jeans and slip them on. “Don’t want to frighten Taylor, or Mrs. Jones, for that matter.”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Ana sits in a sleepy daze on the floor. I clasp her upper arms, help her to her feet, and take her to the door. From the hook on the back of the door I grab the gray robe and dress her. She’s no help whatsoever; she really is exhausted.

“Bed,” I announce, kissing her quickly.

An alarmed expression crosses her drowsy face.

“For sleep,” I reassure her. And bending down, I gather her in my arms, cradle her against my chest, and carry her to the sub’s room. There I pull back the comforter and lay her down, and in a moment of weakness climb into the bed beside her. Covering us both with the duvet, I embrace her.

I’ll just hold her until she’s asleep.

“Sleep now, gorgeous girl.” I kiss her hair feeling utterly sated…and grateful. We did it. This sweet, innocent woman let me loose on her. And I think she enjoyed it. I know I did…more than ever before.

Mommy sits looking at me in the mirror with the big crack.

I brush her hair. It’s soft and smells of Mommy and flowers.

She takes the brush and winds her hair round and round.

So it’s like a bumpy snake down her back.

There, she says.

And she turns around and smiles at me.

Today, she’s happy.

I like when Mommy is happy.

I like it when she smiles at me.

She looks pretty when she smiles.

Let’s bake a pie, Maggot.

Apple pie.

I like when Mommy bakes.

I wake suddenly with a sweet scent invading my mind. It’s Ana. She’s fast asleep beside me. I lie back and stare at the ceiling.

When have I ever slept in this room?

Never.

The thought is unnerving, and for some unfathomable reason it makes me uneasy.

What’s going on, Grey?

I sit up carefully, not wanting to disturb her, and stare down at her sleeping form. I know what it is—I’m unsettled because I’m in here with her. I climb out of bed, leaving her to sleep, and head back to the playroom. There I collect the used cable tie and condoms and stash them in my pocket, where I find Ana’s panties. With the crop, her clothes, and her shoes in hand, I leave and lock the door. Back in her room, I hang her dress on the closet door, place her shoes beneath the chair, and lay her bra on top. I take her panties from my pocket—and a wicked idea comes to mind.

I head for my bathroom. I need a shower before we head to dinner with my family. I’ll let Ana sleep awhile longer.

The piping-hot water cascades over me, washing away all the anxiety and unease that I’d felt earlier. As first times go, that was not bad, for either of us. And I’d thought that a relationship with Ana was impossible, but now the future now seems full of possibility. I make a mental note to call Caroline Acton in the morning to dress my girl.

After a productive hour in my study, catching up on my reading for work, I decide that Ana has had enough sleep. It’s dusk outside, and we have to leave in forty-five minutes for dinner at my parents’. It’s been easier to concentrate on my work, knowing that she’s upstairs in her bedroom.

Weird.

Well, I know she’s safe up there.

From the refrigerator I take a carton of cranberry juice and a bottle of sparkling water. I mix them in a glass and head upstairs.

She’s still fast asleep, curled up where I left her. I don’t think she’s moved at all. Her lips are parted as she breathes softly. Her hair is tousled, tendrils escaping from her braid. I sit on the edge of the bed beside her, lean down, and kiss her temple. She mumbles a protest in her sleep.

“Anastasia, wake up.” My voice is gentle as I coax her awake.

“No,” she grumbles, hugging her pillow.

“We have to leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents’.”

Her eyes flicker open and focus on me.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Get up.” I kiss her temple again. “I’ve brought you a drink. I’ll be downstairs. Don’t go back to sleep, or you’ll be in trouble,” I warn as she stretches her arms. I kiss her once more and with a glance at the chair, where she won’t find her panties, I saunter back downstairs, unable to suppress my grin.

Playtime, Grey.

While I’m waiting for Miss Steele I press a button on the iPod remote and the music springs to life on random shuffle. Restless, I wander over to the balcony doors and stare out at the early evening sky, listening to Talking Heads’ “And She Was.”

Taylor enters. “Mr. Grey. Shall I bring the car around?”

“Give us five minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, and disappears toward the service elevator.

Ana appears a few minutes later at the entrance to the living room. She looks luminous, stunning even…and amused. What’s she going to say about her missing panties?

“Hi,” she says with a cryptic smile.

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

Her smile broadens. “Good, thanks. You?” She feigns nonchalance.

“I feel mighty fine, Miss Steele.” The suspense is tantalizing and I hope my anticipation is not written all over my face.

“Frank? I never figured you for a Sinatra fan,” she says, cocking
her head and giving me a curious look, as the rich tones of “Witchcraft” fill the room.

“Eclectic taste, Miss Steele.” I step toward her until I’m standing right in front of her.
Will she crack?
I’m searching for an answer in her glittering blue eyes.

Ask me for your panties, baby.

I caress her cheek with my fingertips. She leans her face into my touch—and I’m completely seduced—by her sweet gesture, by her teasing expression, and by the music. I want her in my arms.

“Dance with me,” I whisper, as I remove the remote from my pocket and turn up the volume until Frank’s crooning surrounds us. She gives me her hand. I circle her waist and pull her beautiful body against mine, and we start a slow, simple fox-trot. She grasps my shoulder, but I’m prepared for her touch, and together we whirl across the floor, her radiant face lighting up the room…and me. She falls into step with my lead, and when the song comes to an end, she’s giddy and breathless.

And so am I.

“There’s no nicer witch than you.” I plant a chaste kiss on her lips. “Well, that’s brought some color to your cheeks. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet my parents?”

“You’re welcome, and yes, I can’t wait to meet them,” she replies, looking flushed and lovely.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Oh yes,” she says with easy confidence.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, her lips carved in a smirk.

God, she has guts.

I grin. “Okay.” I can’t hide my delight. “If that’s the way you want to play it, Miss Steele.” I grab my jacket and we head to the elevator.

She never fails to surprise, impress, and disarm me. Now I will have to sit through dinner with my parents, knowing my girl is not wearing any underwear. In fact, I’m traveling down in this elevator right now, knowing she’s naked beneath her skirt.

She’s turned the tables on you, Grey.

SHE’S QUIET AS TAYLOR
drives us north on I-5. I catch a glimpse of Union Lake; the moon disappears behind a cloud, and the water darkens, like my mood. Why am I taking her to see my parents? If they meet her, they’ll have certain expectations. And so will Ana. And I’m not sure if the relationship I want with Ana will live up to those expectations. And to make matters worse, I put all this in motion when I insisted she meet Grace. I’m the only one to blame. Me, and the fact that Elliot is fucking her roommate.

Who am I kidding? If I didn’t want her to meet my folks, she wouldn’t be here. I just wish I wasn’t so anxious about it.

Yeah. That’s the problem.

“Where did you learn to dance?” she asks, interrupting my chain of thoughts.

Oh, Ana.
She’s not going to want me to go there.

“Christian, hold me. There. Properly. Right. One step. Two. Good. Keep in time to the music. Sinatra is perfect for the fox-trot.” Elena is in her element.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Do you really want to know?” I answer.

“Yes,” she replies, but her tone says otherwise.

You asked.
I sigh in the darkness beside her. “Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing.”

“She must have been a good teacher.” Her whisper is tinged with regret and reluctant admiration.

“She was.”

“That’s right. Again. One. Two. Three. Four. Baby, you’ve got this.”

Elena and I glide across her basement.

“Again.” She laughs, her head thrown back, and she looks like a woman half her age.