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Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 16 (Read Online Free)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 16


Slowly the outside world invades my senses, and oh my, what an invasion. I am floating, my limbs soft and languid, utterly spent. I’m lying on top of him, my head on his chest, and he smells divine: fresh, laundered linen and some expensive body wash, and the best, most seductive scent on the planet… Christian. I don’t want to move, I want to breathe this elixir for eternity. I nuzzle him, wishing I didn’t have the barrier of his t-shirt. And as rhyme and reason return to the rest of my body, I stretch my hand out on his chest. This is the first time I’ve touched him here. He’s firm… strong. His hand swoops up and grabs mine, but he softens the blow by pulling it to his mouth and sweetly kissing my knuckles. He rolls over so he’s gazing down at me.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, then kisses me lightly.
“Why don’t you like to be touched?” I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes.
“Because I’m fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia.”
Oh… his honesty is completely disarming. I blink up at him.
“I had a very tough introduction to life. I don’t want to burden you with the details. Just don’t.” He strokes his nose against mine, and then he pulls out of me and sits up.
“I think that’s all the very basics covered. How was that?”
He looks thoroughly pleased with himself and sounds very matter-of-fact at the same time, like he’s just marked another tick box in a checklist. I’m still reeling from the tough introduction to life comment. It’s so frustrating – I am desperate to know more. But he
won’t tell me. I cock my head to one side, like he does, and make an enormous effort to smile at him.
“If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well you haven’t taken into account my GPA.” I smile shyly at him. “But thank you for the illusion.”
“Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. You’ve had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me,” he boasts, playful again.
I flush and blink at the same time, as he stares down at me. He’s keeping count! His brow furrows.
“Do you have something to tell me?” his voice is suddenly stern.
I frown. Crap.
“I had a dream this morning.”
“Oh?” He glares at me.
Double crap. Am I in trouble?
“I came in my sleep.” I throw my arm over my eyes. He says nothing. I peek up at him from under my arm, and he looks amused.
“In your sleep?”
“Woke me up.”
“I’m sure it did. What were you dreaming about?”
“What was I doing?”
I throw my arm over my eyes again. And like a small child, I briefly entertain the thought that if I can’t see him, then he can’t see me.
“Anastasia, what was I doing? I won’t ask you again.”
“You had a riding crop.”
He moves my arm.
“Yes.” I am crimson.
“There’s hope for you yet,” he murmurs. “I have several riding crops.”
“Brown plaited leather?”
He laughs.
“No, but I’m sure I could get one.” His gray eyes blaze with excitement.
Leaning down, he gives me a brief kiss then stands and grabs his boxers, oh no… he’s going. I glance quickly at the time – it’s only nine-forty. I scoot out of bed too and grab my sweat pants and a cami top, then sit back on the bed, cross-legged, watching him. I don’t want him to go. What can I do?
“When is your period due?” He interrupts my thoughts.
“I hate wearing these things,” he grumbles. He holds up the condom, then puts it on the floor, and slips on his jeans.
“Well?” he prompts when I don’t reply, and he looks at me expectantly as if he’s waiting for my opinion on the weather. Holy crap… this is personal stuff.
“Next week.” I stare down at my hands.
“You need to sort out some contraception.”
He is so bossy. I stare at him blankly. He sits back on the bed as he puts on his shoes and socks.
“Do you have a doctor?”
I shake my head. We are back to mergers and acquisitions – another 180-degree mood swing.
He frowns.
“I can have mine come and see you at your apartment – Sunday morning before you come and see me. Or he can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?”
No pressure then. Something else that he’s paying for… but actually this is for his benefit.
“Your place.” That means I am guaranteed to see him Sunday.
“Okay. I’ll let you know the time.”
“Are you leaving?”
Don’t go… stay with me please.
“How are you getting back?” I whisper.
“Taylor will pick me up.”
“I can drive you. I have a lovely new car.”
He gazes at me, his expression warm.
“That’s more like it. But I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“Did you get me tipsy on purpose?”
“Because you over-think everything, and you’re reticent like your stepdad. A drop of wine in you and you start talking, and I need you to communicate honestly with me. Otherwise you clam up, and I have no idea what you’re thinking. In vino veritas, Anastasia.”
“And you think you’re always honest with me?”
“I endeavor to be.” He looks down at me warily. “This will only work if we’re honest with each other.”
“I’d like you to stay and use this.” I hold up the second condom.
He smiles and his eyes glow with humor.
“Anastasia, I have crossed so many lines here tonight. I have to go. I’ll see you on Sunday. I’ll have the revised contract ready for you, and then we can really start to play.”
“Play?” Holy shit. My heart leaps into my mouth.
“I’d like to do a scene with you. But I won’t until you’ve signed, so I know you’re ready.”
“Oh. So I could stretch this out, if I don’t sign?”
He gazes at me assessing, and then his lips twitch into a smile.
“Well, I suppose you could, but I may crack under the strain.”
“Crack? How?” My inner goddess has woken and is paying attention.
He nods slowly, and then he grins, teasing.
“Could get really ugly.”
His grin is infectious.
“Ugly, how?”
“Oh you know, explosions, car chases, kidnapping, incarceration.”
“You’d kidnap me?”
“Oh yes,” he grins.
“Hold me against my will?” Jeez this is hot.
“Oh yes,” he nods. “And then we’re talking TPE 24/7.”
“You’ve lost me,” I breathe, my heart is pounding… is he serious?
“Total Power Exchange – round the clock.” His eyes are shining, and I can feel his excitement from where I sit.
Holy shit.
“So you have no choice,” he says sardonically.
“Clearly.” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice as my eyes reach for the heavens.
“Oh, Anastasia Steele, did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“No,” I squeak.
“I think you did. What did I say I’d do to you if you rolled your eyes at me again?”
Shit. He sits down on the edge of the bed.
“Come here,” he says softly.
I blanch. Jeez… he’s serious. I sit staring at him completely immobile.
“I haven’t signed,” I whisper.
“I told you what I’d do. I’m a man of my word. I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to fuck you very quick and very hard. Looks like we’ll need that condom after all.”
His voice is so soft, menacing, and it’s damned hot. My insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid, desire. He gazes at me, waiting, eyes blazing. Tentatively, I uncurl my legs. Should I run? This is it, our relationship hangs in the balance, right here, right now. Do I let him do this or do I say no, and then that’s it? Because I know it will be over if I say no. Do it! My inner goddess pleads with me, my subconscious is as paralyzed as I am.
“I’m waiting,” he says. “I’m not a patient man.”
Oh for the love of all that’s holy. I’m panting, afraid, turned on. Blood pounding through my body, my legs are like jelly. Slowly, I crawl over to him until I am beside him.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now stand up.”
Oh shit… can’t he just get this over with? I’m not sure if I can stand. Hesitantly, I clamber to my feet. He holds his hand out, and I place the condom in his palm. Suddenly he grabs me, tipping me across his lap. With one smooth movement, he angles his body so my torso is resting on the bed beside him. He throws his right leg over both of mine and plants his left forearm on the small of my back, holding me down so I cannot move. Oh fuck.
“Put your hands up on either side of your head,” he orders.
I obey immediately.
“Why am I doing this, Anastasia?” he asks.
“Because I rolled my eyes at you,” I can barely speak.
“Do you think that’s polite?”
“Will you do it again?”
“I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”
Very slowly, he pulls down my sweatpants. Oh, how demeaning is this, demeaning and scary and hot. He’s making such a meal of this. My heart is in my mouth. I can barely breathe. Shit, is this going to hurt?
He places his hand on my naked behind, softly fondling me, stroking round and round with his flat palm. And then his hand is no longer there… and he hits me – hard. Ow! My eyes spring open in response to the pain, and I try to rise, but his hand moves between my shoulder blades keeping me down. He caresses me again where he’s hit me, and his breathing’s changed – it’s louder, harsher. He hits me again and again, quickly in succession. Holy fuck it hurts. I make no sound, my face screwed up against the pain. I try and wriggle away from the blows – spurred on by adrenaline spiking and coursing through my body.
“Keep still,” he growls. “Or I’ll spank you for longer.”
He’s rubbing me now, and the blow follows. A rhythmic pattern emerges, caress, fondle, slap hard. I have to concentrate to handle this pain. My mind empties as I endeavor to absorb the grueling sensation. He doesn’t hit me in the same place twice in succession – he’s spreading the pain.
“Aargh!” I cry out on the tenth slap – and I’m unaware that I have been mentally counting the blows.
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
He hits me again then he strokes me softly. The combination of the hard stinging blow and his gentle caress is so mind numbing. He hits me again… this is getting harder to take. My face hurts, it’s screwed up so tight. He strokes me gently and then the blow comes. I cry out again.
“No one to hear you, baby, just me.”
And he hits me again and again. From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg him to stop. But I don’t. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He continues the unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times. Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from his merciless assault.
“Enough,” he breathes hoarsely. “Well done, Anastasia. Now I’m going to fuck you.”
He caresses my behind gently, and it burns as he strokes me round and round and down. Suddenly, he inserts two fingers inside me, taking me completely by surprise. I gasp, this new assault breaking through the numbness around my brain.
“Feel this. See how much your body likes this, Anastasia. You’re soaking just for me.” There is awe in his voice. He moves his fingers, in and out in quick succession.
I groan, no surely not, and then his fingers are gone… and I’m left wanting.
“Next time, I will get you to count. Now where’s that condom?”
He reaches beside him for the condom and lifts me gently, pushing me face down onto the bed. I hear the sound of his zipper and the rip of the foil. He drags my sweatpants off and then guides me into a kneeling position, gently caressing my now very sore behind.
“I’m going to take you now. You can come,” he murmurs.
What? Like I have a choice.
And he’s inside me, quickly filling me, I moan loudly. He moves, pounding into me, a fast, intense pace against my sore behind. The feeling is beyond exquisite, raw and debasing and mind blowing. My senses are ravaged, disconnected, solely concentrating on what he’s doing to me. How he’s making me feel, that familiar pull deep in my belly, tightening, quickening. NO… and my traitorous body explodes in an intense, body-shattering orgasm.
“Oh, Ana!” he cries out loudly as he finds his release, holding me in place as he pours himself into me. He collapses, panting hard beside me, and he pulls me on top of him and buries his face in my hair, holding me close.
“Oh, baby,” he breathes. “Welcome to my world.”
We lie there, panting together, waiting for our breathing to slow. He gently strokes my hair. I’m on his chest again. But this time, I don’t have the strength to lift my hand and feel him. Boy… I survived. That wasn’t so bad. I’m more stoic than I thought. My inner goddess is prostrate… well at least she’s quiet. Christian nuzzles my hair again, inhaling deeply.
“Well done, baby,” he whispers, quiet joy in his voice. His words curl around me like a soft fluffy towel from the Heathman Hotel, and I’m so pleased that he’s happy.
He picks at the strap on my camisole.
“Is this what you sleep in?” he asks gently.
“Yes,” I breathe sleepily.
“You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I’ll take you shopping.”
“I like my sweats,” I murmur, trying and failing to sound irritated.
He kisses my head again.
“We’ll see,” he says.
We lie for a few more minutes, hours, who knows, and I think I doze.
“I have to go,” he says, and leaning down, he kisses my forehead gently. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft.
I think about his question. My backside is sore. Well, glowing now, and amazingly I feel, apart from exhausted, radiant. The realization is humbling, unexpected. I don’t understand. Holy shit.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. I don’t want to say more than that.
He rises.
“Where’s your bathroom?”
“Along the corridor to the left.”
He scoops up the other condom and heads out of the bedroom. I rise stiffly and put my sweatpants back on. They chafe a little against my still-smarting behind. I’m so confused by my reaction. I remember him saying – I can’t remember when – that I would feel so much better after a good hiding. How can that be so? I really don’t get it. But strangely, I do. I can’t say that I enjoyed the experience, in fact, I would still go a long way to avoid it, but now… I have this safe, weird, bathed in afterglow, sated feeling. I put my head in my hands. I just don’t understand.
Christian re-enters the room. I can’t look him in the eye. I stare down at my hands.
“I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Anastasia,” he warns, and I want to roll my eyes but quickly stop myself. I stand facing the bed. Sitting beside me, he gently pulls my sweatpants down again. Up and down like whores’ drawers my subconscious remarks bitterly. In my head, I tell her where to go. Christian squirts baby oil into his hand and then rubs my behind with careful tenderness – from makeup remover to smoothing balm for a spanked ass, who would have thought it was such a versatile liquid.
“I like my hands on you,” he murmurs, and I have to agree, me too.
“There,” he says when he’s finished, and he pulls my pants up again.
I glance over at my clock. It’s ten-thirty.
“I’m leaving now.”
“I’ll see you out.” I still can’t look at him.
Taking my hand, he leads me to the front door. Fortunately, Kate is still not home. She must still be having dinner with her folks and Ethan. I’m really glad she’s not been around to hear my chastisement.
“Don’t you have to call Taylor?” I ask, avoiding eye contact.
“Taylor’s been here since nine. Look at me,” he breathes.
I struggle to meet his eyes, but when I do, he’s gazing down at me with wonder.
“You didn’t cry,” he murmurs, then grabs me suddenly and kisses me fervently. “Sunday,” he whispers against my lips, and it’s both a promise and a threat.
I watch him walk down the path and climb into the big black Audi. He doesn’t look back. I close the door and stand helpless in the living room of an apartment that I shall only spend another two nights in. A place I have lived happily for almost four years… yet today, for the first time ever, I feel lonely and uncomfortable here, unhappy with my own company. Have I strayed so far from who I am? I know that lurking, not very far under my rather numb exterior, is a well of tears. What am I doing? The irony is I can’t even sit down and enjoy a good cry. I’ll have to stand. I know it’s late, but I decide to call my mom.
“Honey, how are you? How was graduation?” she enthuses down the phone. Her voice is a soothing balm.
“Sorry it’s so late,” I whisper.
She pauses.
“Ana? What’s wrong?” She’s all seriousness now.
“Nothing, Mom, I just wanted to hear your voice.”
She’s silent for a moment.
“Ana, what is it? Please tell me.” Her voice is soft and comforting, and I know that she cares. Uninvited, my tears begin to flow. I have cried so often in the last few days.
“Please, Ana,” she says, and her anguish reflects mine.
“Oh, Mom, it’s a man.”
“What’s he done to you?” Her alarm is palpable.
“It’s not like that.” Although it is… Oh crap. I don’t want to worry her. I just want someone else to be strong for me at the moment.
“Ana, please, you’re worrying me.”
I take a big breath.
“I’ve kind of fallen for this guy, and he’s so different from me, and I don’t know if we should be together.”
“Oh, darling. I wish I could be with you. I am so sorry I missed your graduation. You’ve fallen for someone, finally. Oh, honey, men, they are so tricky. They’re a different species, honey. How long have you known him?”
Christian is definitely a different species… different planet.
“Oh, nearly three weeks or so.”
“Ana, darling, that’s no time at all. How can you possibly know someone in that kind of time frame? Just take it easy with him and keep him at arm’s length until you decide whether he’s worthy of you.”
Wow… it’s unnerving when my mother is so insightful, but she’s just too late on this. Is he worthy of me? That’s an interesting concept. I always wonder whether I am worthy of him.
“Honey, you sound so unhappy. Come home – visit with us. I miss you, darling. Bob would love to see you too. You can get some distance and maybe some perspective. You need a break. You’ve been working so hard.”
Oh boy, is this tempting. Run away to Georgia. Grab some sunshine, some cocktails. My mother’s good humor… her loving arms.
“I have two job interviews in Seattle on Monday.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news.”
The door opens and Kate appears, grinning at me. Her face falls when she sees I’ve been crying.
“Mom, I have to go. I’ll think about a visit. Thank you.”
“Honey, please, don’t let a man get under your skin. You’re far too young. Go and enjoy yourself.”
“Yes, Mom, love you.”
“Oh, Ana, I love you too, so much. Stay safe, honey.” I hang up and face Kate who glares at me.
“Has that obscenely rich fucker upset you again?”
“No… sort of… err… yes.”
“Just tell him to take a hike, Ana. You’ve been so up and down since you met him. I’ve never seen you like this.”
The world of Katherine Kavanagh is very clear, very black and white. Not the intangible, mysterious, vague hues of gray that color my world. Welcome to my world.
“Sit, let’s talk. Let’s have some wine. Oh, you’ve had champagne.” She spies the bottle. “Some good stuff too.”
I smile ineffectually, looking apprehensively at the couch. I approach it with caution. Hmm… sitting.
“Are you okay?”
“I fell over and landed on my behind.”
She doesn’t think to question my explanation, because I am one of the most un-coordinated people in Washington State. I never thought I’d see that as a blessing. I sit down gingerly, pleasantly surprised that I’m okay, and turn my attention to Kate, but my mind glazes over and I’m pulled back to the Heathman – “Well, if you were mine you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday.” He said it then, and all
I could concentrate on at the time was being his. All the warning signs were there, I was just too clueless and too enamored to notice.
Kate comes back into the living area with a bottle of red wine and washed teacups.
“Here we go.” She hands me a cup of wine. It won’t taste as good as the Bolly.
“Ana, if he’s a jerk with commitment issues, dump him. Though I don’t really understand his commitment issues. He couldn’t take his eyes off you in the marquee, watched you like a hawk. I’d say he was completely smitten, but maybe he has a funny way of showing it.”
Smitten? Christian? Funny way of showing it? I’ll say.
“Kate, it’s complicated. How was your evening?” I ask.
I can’t talk this through with Kate without revealing too much, but one question on her day and Kate is off. It’s so reassuring to sit and listen to her normal chatter. The hot news is that Ethan may be coming to live with us after their holiday. That will be fun – Ethan is a hoot. I frown. I don’t think Christian will approve. Well… tough. He’ll just have to suck it up. I have a couple of teacups of wine and decide to call it a night. It’s been one very long day. Kate hugs me, and then grabs the phone to call Elliot.
I check the mean machine after I brush my teeth. There’s an email from Christian.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: You
Date: May 26 2011 23:14
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty and brave woman I have ever met. Take some Advil – this is not a request. And don’t drive your Beetle again. I will know.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Oh, not drive my car again! I type out my reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Flattery
Date: May 26 2011 23:20
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey
Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you’ve been everywhere the point is moot.
I will need to drive my Beetle to a garage so I can sell it – so will not graciously accept any of your nonsense over that. Red wine is always more preferable to Advil.
PS: Caning is a HARD limit for me.
I hit send.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Frustrating women who can’t take compliments
Date: May 26 2011 23:26
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Ms. Steele
I am not flattering you. You should go to bed.
I accept your addition to the hard limits.
Don’t drink too much.
Taylor will dispose of your car and get a good price for it too.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Taylor – Is he the right man for the job?
Date: May 26 2011 23:40
To: Christian Grey
Dear Sir
I am intrigued that you are happy to risk letting your right hand man drive my car – but not some woman you fuck occasionally. How can I be sure that Taylor is the man to get me the best deal for said car? I have, in the past, probably before I met you, been known to drive a hard bargain.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Careful!
Date: May 26 2011 23:44
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Ms. Steele
I am assuming it is the RED WINE talking, and that you’ve had a very long day.
Though I am tempted to drive back over there to ensure that you don’t sit down for a week, rather than an evening.
Taylor is ex-army and capable of driving anything from a motorcycle to a Sherman Tank. Your car does not present a hazard to him.
Now please do not refer to yourself as ‘some woman I fuck occasionally’ because, quite frankly it makes me MAD, and you really wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Careful yourself
Date: May 26 2011 23:57
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey
I’m not sure I like you anyway, especially at the moment.
Ms. Steele
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Careful yourself
Date: May 27 2011 00:03
To: Anastasia Steele
Why don’t you like me?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Careful yourself
Date: May 27 2011 00:09
To: Christian Grey
Because you never stay with me.
There, that’s given him something to think about. I shut the machine down with a flourish I don’t really feel and crawl into my bed. I switch off my sidelight and stare up at the ceiling. It’s been one long day, one emotional wrench after another. It was heartwarming to spend some time with Ray. He looked well, and weirdly he approved of Christian. Jeez, Kate and her gargantuan mouth. Hearing Christian speak about being hungry. What the hell is that all about? God, and the car. I haven’t even told Kate about the new car. What was Christian thinking?
And then this evening, he actually hit me. I’ve never been hit in my life. What have I gotten myself into? Very slowly, my tears, halted by Kate’s arrival, begin to slide down the side of my face and into my ears. I have fallen for someone who’s so emotionally shut down, I will only get hurt – deep down I know this – someone who by his own admission
is completely fucked up. Why is he so fucked up? It must be awful to be as affected as he is, and the thought that as a toddler he suffered some unbearable cruelty makes me cry harder. Perhaps if he was more normal he wouldn’t want you, my subconscious contributes snidely to my musings… and in my heart of hearts I know this is true. I turn into my pillow and the sluice gates open… and for the first time in years, I am sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow.
I am momentarily distracted from my dark night of the soul by Kate shouting.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
“Well you can’t!”
“What the fuck have you done to her now?”
“Since she’s met you she cries all the time.”
“You can’t come in here!”
Christian bursts into my bedroom and unceremoniously switches on the overhead light, making me squint.
“Jesus, Ana,” he mutters. He flicks the switch off again and is at my side in a moment.
“What are you doing here?” I gasp between sobs. Crap. I can’t stop crying.
He switches on the sidelight making me squint again. Kate comes and stands in the doorway.
“Do you want me to throw this asshole out?” she asks, radiating thermo-nuclear hostility.
Christian raises his eyebrows at her, no doubt surprised by her flattering epithet and her feral antagonism. I shake my head, and she rolls her eyes at me. Oh… I wouldn’t do that near Mr. G.
“Just holler if you need me,” she says more gently. “Grey – your cards are marked,” she hisses at him. He nods at her, and she turns and pulls the door to but doesn’t close it.
Christian gazes down at me, his expression grave, his face ashen. He’s wearing his pinstriped jacket, and from his inside pocket, he pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to me. I think I still have his other one somewhere.
“What’s going on?” he asks quietly.
“Why are you here?” I ask, ignoring his question. My tears have miraculously ceased, but I’m left with dry heaves racking my body.
“Part of my role is to look after your needs. You said you wanted me to stay, so here I am. And yet I find you like this.” He blinks at me, truly bewildered. “I’m sure I’m responsible, but I have no idea why. Is it because I hit you?”
I pull myself up, wincing from my sore behind. I sit and face him.
“Did you take some Advil?”
I shake my head. He narrows his eyes, stands, and leaves the room. I hear him talking to Kate but not what they are saying. He’s back a few moments later with pills and a teacup of water.
“Take these,” he orders gently as he sits on my bed beside me.
I do as I’m told.
“Talk to me,” he whispers. “You told me you were okay. I’d never have left you if I thought you were like this.”
I stare down at my hands. What can I say that I haven’t said already? I want more. I want him to stay because he wants to stay with me, not because I’m a blubbering mess, and I don’t want him to beat me, is that so unreasonable?
“I take it that when you said you were okay, you weren’t.”
I flush.
“I thought I was fine.”
“Anastasia, you can’t tell me what you think I want to hear. That’s not very honest,” he admonishes me. “How can I trust anything you’ve said to me?”
I peek up at him, and he’s frowning, a bleak look in his eye. He runs both hands through his hair.
“How did you feel while I was hitting you and after?”
“I didn’t like it. I’d rather you didn’t do it again.”
“You weren’t meant to like it.”
“Why do you like it?” I stare up at him.
My question surprises him.
“You really want to know?”
“Oh, trust me, I’m fascinated.” And I can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
He narrows his eyes again.
“Careful,” he warns.
I blanch.
“Are you going to hit me again?” I challenge.
“No, not tonight.”
Phew… my subconscious and I both breathe a silent sigh of relief.
“So,” I prompt.
“I like the control it brings me, Anastasia. I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I’ve wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay.”
I flush at the memory. Jeez, I wanted to spank myself after that question. So Katherine Kavanagh is responsible for all this, and if she’d gone to that interview and asked her gay question, she’d be sitting here with the sore ass. I don’t like that thought. How confusing is this?
“So you don’t like the way I am.”
He stares at me, bewildered again.
“I think you’re lovely the way you are.”
“So why are you trying to change me?”
“I don’t want to change you. I’d like you to be courteous and to follow the set of rules I’ve given you and not defy me. Simple,” he says.
“But you want to punish me?”
“Yes I do.”
“That’s what I don’t understand.”
He sighs and runs his hands through his hair again.
“It’s the way I’m made, Anastasia. I need to control you. I need you to behave in a certain way, and if you don’t – I love to watch your beautiful alabaster skin pink and warm up under my hands. It turns me on.”
Holy shit. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“So it’s not the pain you’re putting me through?”
He swallows.
“A bit, to see if you can take it, but that’s not the whole reason. It’s the fact that you are mine to do with as I see fit – ultimate control over someone else. And it turns me on. Big time, Anastasia. Look, I’m not explaining myself very well… I’ve never had to before. I’ve not really thought about this in any great depth. I’ve always been with like-minded people,” he shrugs apologetically. “And you still haven’t answered my question – how did you feel afterwards?”
“You were sexually aroused by it, Anastasia,” he closes his eyes briefly, and when he re-opens them and gazes at me, they are smoldering smoky embers.
His expression pulls at that dark part of me, buried in the depths of my belly – my libido, woken and tamed by him, but even now, insatiable.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.
I frown. Jeez what have I done now?
“I don’t have any condoms, Anastasia, and you know, you’re upset. Contrary to what your roommate believes, I’m not a priapic monster. So, you felt confused?”
I squirm under his intense gaze.
“You have no problem being honest with me in print. Your emails always tell me exactly how you feel. Why can’t you do that in conversation? Do I intimidate you that much?”
I pick at an imaginary spot on my mother’s blue and cream quilt.
“You beguile me, Christian. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the Sun,” I whisper.
He gasps.
“Well, I think you’ve got that the wrong way around,” he whispers.
“Oh, Anastasia, you’ve bewitched me. Isn’t it obvious?”
No, not to me. Bewitched… my inner goddess is staring open-mouthed. Even she doesn’t believe this.
“You’ve still not answered my question. Write me an email, please. But right now, I’d really like to sleep. Can I stay?”
“Do you want to stay?” I can’t hide the hope in my voice.
“You wanted me here.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I’ll write you an email,” he mutters petulantly.
Standing, he empties his jeans pockets of BlackBerry, keys, wallet, and money. Holy cow, men carry a lot of crap in their pockets. He strips off his watch, his shoes, socks, and jeans and places his jacket over my chair. He walks round to the other side of the bed and slides in.
“Lie down,” he orders.
I slip slowly under the covers, wincing slightly, staring at him. Jeez… he’s staying. I think I’m numb with elated shock. He leans up on one elbow staring down at me.
“If you are going to cry. Cry in front of me. I need to know.”
“Do you want me to cry?”
“Not particularly. I just want to know how you’re feeling. I don’t want you slipping through my fingers. Switch the light off. It’s late, and we both have to work tomorrow.”
So here… and still so bossy, but I can’t complain, he’s in my bed. I don’t quite understand why… maybe I should weep more often in front of him. I switch off the bedside light.
“Lie on your side, facing away from me,” he murmurs in the darkness.
I roll my eyes in the full knowledge that he cannot see me, but I do as I’m told. Gingerly, he moves over and puts his arms around me and pulls me to his chest… oh my.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispers, and I feel his nose in my hair as he inhales deeply.
Holy cow. Christian Grey is sleeping with me, and in the comfort and solace of his arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.

Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 15 (Read Free Online)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 15


“Hi.” I feel unbearably shy when I open the door. Christian is standing on the porch in his jeans and leather jacket.
“Hi,” he says, and his face lights up with his radiant smile. I take a moment to admire the pretty. Oh my, he’s hot in leather.
“Come in.”
“If I may,” he says amused. He holds up a bottle of champagne as he walks in. “I thought we’d celebrate your graduation. Nothing beats a good Bollinger.”
“Interesting choice of words,” I comment dryly.
He grins.
“Oh, I like your ready wit, Anastasia.”
“We only have teacups. We’ve packed all the glasses.”
“Teacups? Sounds good to me.”
I head into the kitchen. Nervous, butterflies flooding my stomach, it’s like having a panther or mountain lion all unpredictable and predatory in my living room.
“Do you want saucers as well?”
“Teacups will be fine, Anastasia,” Christian calls distractedly from the living room.
When I return, he’s staring at the brown parcel of books. I place the cups on the table.
“That’s for you,” I murmur anxiously.
Crap… this is probably going to be a fight.
“Hmm, I figured as much. Very apt quote.” His long index finger absently traces the writing. “I thought I was D’Urberville, not Angel. You decided on the debasement.” He gives me a brief wolfish smile. “Trust you to find something that resonates so appropriately.”
“It’s also a plea,” I whisper. Why am I so nervous? My mouth is dry.
“A plea? For me to go easy on you?”
I nod.
“I bought these for you,” he says quietly his gaze impassive. “I’ll go easier on you if you accept them.”
I swallow convulsively.
“Christian, I can’t accept them, they’re just too much.”
“You see, this is what I was talking about, you defying me. I want you to have them, and that’s the end of the discussion. It’s very simple. You don’t have to think about this. As a submissive you would just be grateful for them. You just accept what I buy you because it pleases me for you to do so.”
“I wasn’t a submissive when you bought them for me,” I whisper.
“No… but you’ve agreed, Anastasia.” His eyes turn wary.
I sigh. I am not going to win this, so over to plan B.
“So they are mine to do with as I wish?”
He eyes me suspiciously, but concedes.
“In that case, I’d like to give them to a charity, one working in Darfur since that seems to be close to your heart. They can auction them.”
“If that’s what you want to do.” His mouth sets into a hard line. He’s disappointed.
I flush.
“I’ll think about it,” I murmur, I don’t want to disappoint him, and his words come back to me. I want you to want to please me.
“Don’t think, Anastasia. Not about this.” His tone is quiet and serious.
How can I not think? You can pretend to be a car, like his other possessions, my subconscious makes an unwelcome vitriolic return. I ignore her. Oh, can’t we rewind? The atmosphere between us is now tense. I don’t know what to do. I stare down at my fingers. How do I retrieve this situation?
He puts the champagne bottle on the table and stands in front of me. Putting his hand under my chin, he tilts my head up. He gazes down at me, his expression grave.
“I will buy you lots of things, Anastasia. Get used to it. I can afford it. I’m a very wealthy man.” He leans down and plants a swift, chaste kiss on my lips. “Please.” He releases me.
‘Ho’ my subconscious mouths at me.
“It makes me feel cheap,” I murmur.
Christian runs his hand through his hair, exasperated.
“It shouldn’t. You’re over-thinking it, Anastasia. Don’t place some vague moral judgment on yourself based on what others might think. Don’t waste your energy. It’s only because you have reservations about our arrangement, that’s perfectly natural. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
I frown, trying to process his words.
“Hey, stop this,” he commands softly, cupping my chin again and pulling at it gently so I release my lower lip from my teeth. “There is nothing about you that is cheap, Anastasia. I won’t have you thinking that. I just bought you some old books that I thought might mean something to you, that’s all. Have some champagne.” His eyes warm and soften, and I smile tentatively back up at him. “That’s better,” he murmurs. He picks up the champagne, takes off the foil top and cage, twists the bottle rather than the cork, and opens it with a small pop and a practiced flourish that doesn’t spill a drop. He half fills the cups.
“It’s pink,” I murmur, surprised.
“Bollinger Grande Année Rosé 1999, an excellent vintage,” he says with relish.
“In teacups.”
He grins.
“In teacups. Congratulations on your degree, Anastasia.” We clink cups, and he takes a drink, but I can’t help thinking this is really about my capitulation.
“Thank you,” I murmur and take a sip. Of course it’s delicious. “Shall we go through the soft limits?”
He smiles, and I blush.
“Always so eager.” Christian takes my hand and leads me to the couch where he sits and tugs me down beside him.
“You’re stepfather’s a very taciturn man.”
Oh… not soft limits then. I just want to get this out of the way; the anxiety is gnawing at me.
“You managed to have him eating out of your hand.” I pout.
Christian laughs softly.
“Only because I know how to fish.”
“How do you know he liked fishing?”
“You told me. When we went for coffee.”
“Oh… did I?” I take another sip. Wow he has a memory for detail. Hmm… this champagne really is very good. “Did you try the wine at the reception?”
Christian makes a face.
“Yes. It was foul.”
“I thought of you when I tasted it. How did you get to be so knowledgeable about wine?”
“I’m not knowledgeable, Anastasia, I just know what I like.” His gray eyes shine, almost silver, and it makes me flush. “Some more?” he asks, referring to the champagne.
Christian rises gracefully and collects the bottle. He fills my cup. Is he getting me tipsy? I eye him suspiciously.
“This place looks pretty bare, are you ready for the move?”
“More or less.”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes, my last day at Clayton’s”
“I’d help you move, but I promised to meet my sister at the airport.”
Oh… this is news.
“Mia arrives from Paris very early Saturday morning. I’m heading back to Seattle tomorrow, but I hear Elliot is giving you two a hand.”
“Yes, Kate is very excited about that.”
Christian frowns.
“Yes, Kate and Elliot, who would have thought?” he murmurs, and for some reason, he doesn’t look pleased.
“So what are you doing about work in Seattle?”
When are we going to talk about the limits? What’s his game?
“I have a couple of interviews for intern places.”
“You were going tell me this when?” He arches a brow.
“Err… I’m telling you now.”
He narrows his eyes.
For some reason, possibly because he might use his influence, I don’t want to tell him.
“A couple of publishing houses.”
“Is that what you want to do, something in publishing?”
I nod warily.
“Well?” He looks at me patiently wanting more information.
“Well what?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Anastasia, which publishing houses?” he scolds.
“Just small ones,” I murmur.
“Why don’t you want me to know?”
“Undue influence.”
He frowns.
“Oh, now you’re being obtuse.”
He laughs.
“Obtuse? Me? God, you’re challenging. Drink up, let’s talk about these limits.” He fishes out another copy of my email and the list. Does he wander about with these lists in his pockets? I think there’s one in his jacket that I have. Shit, I’d better not forget that. I drain my cup.
He glances quickly at me.
He smiles that oh-so-smug-private smile of his, holds the champagne bottle up, and pauses.
“Have you eaten anything?”
Oh no… not this old chestnut.
“Yes. I had a three course meal with Ray.” I roll my eyes at him. The champagne is making me bold.
He leans forward and holds my chin, staring intently into my eyes.
“Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee.”
“Oh,” I breathe, and I can see the excitement in his eyes.
“Oh,” he responds, mirroring my tone. “So it begins, Anastasia.”
My heart slams against my chest, and the butterflies escape from my stomach into my constricting throat. Why is that hot?
He fills my cup, and I drink practically all of it. Chastened, I stare up at him.
“Got your attention now, haven’t I?”
I nod.
“Answer me.”
“Yes… you’ve got my attention.”
“Good,” he smiles a knowing smile. “So sexual acts. We’ve done most of this.”
I move closer to him on the couch and glance down at the list.
Soft Limits
To be discussed and agreed between both parties:
Which of the following sexual acts are acceptable to the Submissive?
• Masturbation
• Fellatio
• Cunnilingus
• Vaginal intercourse
• Vaginal fisting
• Anal intercourse
• Anal fisting
“No fisting, you say. Anything else you object to?” he asks softly.
I swallow.
“Anal intercourse doesn’t exactly float my boat.”
“I’ll agree to the fisting, but I’d really like to claim your ass, Anastasia. But we’ll wait for that. Besides, it’s not something we can dive into,” he smirks at me. “Your ass will need training.”
“Training?” I whisper.
“Oh yes. It’ll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me. But if we try it and you don’t like it, we don’t have to do it again.” He grins down at me.
I blink up at him. He thinks I’ll enjoy it? How does he know it’s pleasurable?
“Have you done that?” I whisper.
Holy crap. I gasp.
“With a man?”
“No. I’ve never had sex with a man. Not my scene.”
“Mrs. Robinson?”
Holy shit… how? I frown. He moves on down the list.
“Okay… swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that.”
I flush, and my inner goddess smacks her lips together glowing with pride.
“So.” He looks down at me grinning. “Swallowing semen okay?”
I nod, not able to look him in the eye, and drain my cup again.
“More?” he asks.
“More.” And I’m suddenly reminded of our conversation earlier today as he refills my cup. Is he referring to that or just the champagne? Is this whole champagne thing more?
“Sex toys?” he asks.
I shrug, glancing down the list.
Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?
• Vibrators
• Dildos
• Butt Plugs
• Other
“Butt plug? Does it do what it says on the tin?” I scrunch my nose up in distaste.
“Yes,” he smiles. “And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training.”
“Oh… what’s in other?”
“Beads, eggs… that sort of stuff.”
“Eggs?” I’m alarmed.
“Not real eggs,” he laughs loudly, shaking his head.
I purse my lips at him.
“I’m glad you find me funny.” I can’t keep my injured feelings out of my voice.
He stops laughing.
“I apologize. Miss Steele, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to look contrite, but his eyes are still dancing with humor. “Any problem with toys?”
“No,” I snap.
“Anastasia,” he cajoles. “I am sorry. Believe me. I don’t mean to laugh. I’ve never had this conversation in so much detail. You’re just so inexperienced. I’m sorry.” His eyes are big and gray and sincere.
I thaw a little and take another sip of champagne.
“Right – bondage,” he says, returning to the list. I examine the list, and my inner goddess bounces up and down like a small child waiting for ice cream.
Is Bondage acceptable to the Submissive?
• Hands in front • Hands behind back
• Ankles • Knees
• Elbows
• Wrists to ankles
• Spreader bars
• Tied to furniture
• Blindfolding
• Gagging
• Bondage with Rope
• Bondage with Tape
• Bondage with leather cuffs
• Suspension
• Bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints
“We’ve talked about suspension. And it’s fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods of time anyway. Anything else?”
“Don’t laugh at me, but what’s a spreader bar?”
“I promise not to laugh. I’ve apologized twice.” He glares at me. “Don’t make me do it again,” he warns. And I think I visibly shrink… oh, he’s so bossy. “A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or wrists. They’re fun.”
“Okay… Well gagging me. I’d be worried I wouldn’t be able to breathe”
“I’d be worried if you couldn’t breathe. I don’t want to suffocate you.”
“And how will I use safe words if I’m gagged?”
He pauses.
“First of all, I hope you never have to use them. But if you’re gagged, we’ll use hand signals,” he says simply.
I blink up at him. But if I’m trussed up, how’s that going to work? My brain is beginning to fog… hmm alcohol.
“I’m nervous about the gagging.”
“Okay. I’ll take note.”
I stare up at him, realization dawning.
“Do you like tying your submissives up so they can’t touch you?”
He gazes at me, his eyes widening.
“That’s one of the reasons,” he says quietly.
“Is that why you’ve tied my hands?”
“You don’t like talking about that,” I murmur.
“No, I don’t. Would you like another drink? It’s making you brave, and I need to know how you feel about pain.”
Holy crap… this is the tricky part. He refills my teacup, and I sip.
“So, what’s your general attitude to receiving pain?” Christian looks expectantly at me. “You’re biting your lip,” he says darkly.
I stop immediately, but I don’t know what to say. I flush and stare down at my hands.
“Were you physically punished as a child?”
“So you have no sphere of reference at all?”
“It’s not as bad as you think. Your imagination is your worst enemy in this,” he whispers.
“Do you have to do it?”
“Goes with the territory, Anastasia. It’s what I do. I can see you’re nervous. Let’s go through methods.”
He shows me the list. My subconscious runs, screaming, and hides behind the couch.
• Spanking
• Paddling
• Whipping
• Caning
• Biting
• Nipple clamps
• Genital clamps
• Ice
• Hot wax
• Other types/methods of pain
“Well, you said no to genital clamps. That’s fine. It’s caning that hurts the most.”
I blanch.
“We can work up to that.”
“Or not do it at all,” I whisper.
“This is part of the deal, baby, but we’ll work up to all of this. Anastasia, I won’t push you too far.”
“This punishment thing, it worries me the most.” My voice is very small.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve told me. We’ll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with this stuff, we’ll increase intensity. We’ll take it slow.”
I swallow, and he leans forward and kisses me on my lips.
“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?”
I shrug, my heart in mouth again.
“Look, I want to talk about one more thing, then I’m taking you to bed.”
“Bed?” I blink rapidly, and my blood pounds round my body, warming places I didn’t know existed until very recently.
“Come on, Anastasia, talking through all this, I want to fuck you into next week, right now. It must be having some effect on you too.”
I squirm. My inner goddess is panting.
“See? Beside, there’s something I want to try.”
“Something painful?”
“No – stop seeing pain everywhere. It’s mainly pleasure. Have I hurt you yet?”
I flush.
“Well then. Look, earlier today you were talking about wanting more,” he halts, uncertain all of a sudden.
Oh my… where’s this going?
He clasps my hand.
“Outside of the time you’re my sub, perhaps we could try. I don’t know if it will work. I don’t know about separating everything. It may not work. But I’m willing to try. Maybe one night a week. I don’t know.”
Holy cow… my mouth drops open, my subconscious is in shock, Christian Grey is up for more! He’s willing to try! My subconscious peeks out from behind the couch, still registering shock on her harpy face.
“I have one condition.” He looks warily at my stunned expression.
“What?” I breathe. Anything. I’ll give you anything.
“You graciously accept my graduation present to you.”
“Oh.” And deep down I know what it is. Dread spawns in my belly.
He’s staring down at me, gauging my reaction.
“Come,” he murmurs and rises, dragging me up. Taking his jacket off, he drapes it over my shoulders and heads for the door.
Parked outside is a red hatchback car, a two-door compact Audi.
“It’s for you. Happy graduation,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms and kissing my hair.
He’s bought me a damned car, brand new by the looks of it. Jeez… I’ve had enough trouble with the books. I stare at it blankly, trying desperately to determine how I feel about this. I am appalled on one level, grateful on another, shocked that he’s actually done it, but the overriding emotion is anger. Yes, I’m angry, especially after everything I told him about the books… but then he’d already bought this. Taking my hand, he leads me down the path toward this new acquisition.
“Anastasia, that Beetle of yours is old and frankly dangerous. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you when it’s so easy for me to make it right,” he trails off.
His eyes are on me, but at the moment I cannot bring myself to look at him. I stand silently staring at its awesome bright red newness.
“I mentioned it to your stepfather. He was all for it,” he murmurs.
Turning, I glare at him, my mouth open in horror.
“You mentioned this to Ray. How could you?” I can barely spit the words out. How dare he? Poor Ray. I feel sick, mortified for my dad.
“It’s a gift, Anastasia. Can’t you just say thank you?”
“But you know it’s too much.”
“Not to me it isn’t, not for my peace of mind.”
I frown at him, at a loss what to say. He just doesn’t get it! He’s had money all his life. Okay, not all his life – not as a small child – and my world-view shifts. The thought is very sobering, and I soften towards the car, feeling guilty about my fit of pique. His intentions are good, misguided, but not from a bad place.
“I’m happy for you to loan this to me, like the laptop.”
He sighs heavily.
“Okay. On loan. Indefinitely.” He looks warily at me.
“No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you.”
He frowns. I reach up and kiss him briefly on his cheek.
“Thank you for the car, sir.” I say as sweetly as I can manage.
He grabs me suddenly and yanks me up against him, one hand at my back holding me to him and the other fisting in my hair.
“You are one challenging woman, Ana Steele.” He kisses me passionately, forcing my lips apart with his tongue, taking no prisoners.
My blood heats immediately, and I’m returning his kiss with my own passion. I want him badly – in spite of the car, the books, the soft limits… the caning… I want him.
“It’s taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a fucking car, I’ll buy you a fucking car,” he growls. “Now let’s get you inside and naked.” He plants a swift rough kiss on me.
Boy, he’s angry. He grabs my hand and leads me back into the apartment and straight into my bedroom… no passing go. My subconscious is behind the sofa again, head hidden under her hands. He switches on the sidelight and halts, staring at me.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” I whisper.
His gaze is impassive; his gray eyes cold shards of smoky glass.
“I’m sorry about the car and the books,” I trail off. He remains silent and brooding. “You scare me when you’re angry,” I breathe, staring at him.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, his expression has softened fractionally. He takes a deep breath and swallows.
“Turn round,” he whispers. “I want to get you out of that dress.”
Another mercurial mood swing, it’s so hard to keep up. Obediently, I turn and my heart is thumping, desire instantly replacing unease, coursing through my blood and settling dark and yearning low, low in my belly. He scoops my hair off my back so it hangs down my right side, curling at my breast. He places his index finger at the nape of my neck and achingly slowly drags it down my spine. His well-manicured fingernail gently grazes down my back.
“I like this dress,” he murmurs. “I like to see your flawless skin.”
His finger reaches the back of my halter dress midway down my spine, and hooking his finger beneath the top, he pulls me closer so that I step back against him. I feel him flush against my body. Leaning down, he inhales my hair.
“You smell so good, Anastasia. So sweet.” His nose skims past my ear down my neck, and he trails soft, feather light kisses along my shoulder.
My breathing changes, becoming shallow, rushed, full of expectation. His fingers are at my zipper. Achingly slow, once more he eases it down while his lips move, licking and kissing and sucking their way across to my other shoulder. He is so tantalizingly good at this. My body resonates, and I start to squirm languidly beneath his touch.
“You. Are. Going. To. Have. To. Learn. To. Keep. Still,” he whispers, kissing me around my nape between each word.
He tugs at the fastening at the halter neck, and the dress drops and pools at my feet.
“No bra, Miss Steele. I like that.”
His hands reach round and cup my breasts, and my nipples pucker at his touch.
“Lift your arms and put them around my head,” he murmurs against my neck.
I obey immediately, and my breasts rise and push into his hands, my nipples hardening further. My fingers weave into his hair, and very gently I tug his soft, sexy hair. I roll my head to one side to give him easier access to my neck.
“Mmm… ” he murmurs into that space behind my ear, as he starts to extend my nipples with his long fingers, mirroring my hands in his hair.
I groan as the sensation registers sharp and clear in my groin.
“Shall I make you come this way?” he whispers.
I arch my back to force my breasts into his expert hands.
“You like this, don’t you, Miss Steele?”
“Mmm… ”
“Tell me.” He continues the slow sensuous torture, pulling gently.
“Yes, what.”
“Yes… Sir.”
“Good girl.” He pinches me hard, and my body writhes convulsively against his front.
I gasp at the exquisite, acute, pleasure/pain. I feel him against me. I moan and my hands clench in his hair pulling harder.
“I don’t think you’re ready to come yet,” he whispers, stilling his hands, and he gently bites my earlobe and tugs at it. “Besides, you have displeased me.”
Oh… no, what will this mean? My brain registers through the fog of needy desire as I groan.
“So perhaps I won’t let you come after all.” He returns the attention of his fingers to my nipples, pulling, twisting, kneading. I grind my behind against him… moving side to side.
I feel his grin against my neck as his hands move down to my hips. His fingers hook into my panties at the back, stretching them, and he pushes his thumbs through the material, shredding them and tossing them in front of me so I can see… holy shit. His hands move down to my sex… and from behind, he slowly inserts his finger.
“Oh, yes. My sweet girl is all ready,” he breathes as he whirls me round so I’m facing him. His breathing has quickened. He puts his finger in his mouth. “You taste so fine, Miss Steele.” He sighs. “Undress me,” he commands quietly, staring down at me, eyes hooded.
All I’m wearing is my shoes, well, Kate’s high-heeled pumps. I’m taken aback. I’ve never undressed a man.
“You can do it,” he cajoles softly.
Oh my. I blink rapidly. Where to start? I reach for his t-shirt, and he grabs my hands and shakes his head, smiling slyly at me.
“Oh no.” He shakes his head, grinning. “Not the t-shirt, you may need to touch me for what I have planned.” His eyes are alive with excitement.
Oh… this is news… I can touch with clothes. He takes one of my hands and places it against his erection.
“This is the effect you have on me, Miss Steele.”
I gasp and flex my fingers around his girth, and he grins.
“I want to be inside you. Take my jeans off. You’re in charge.”
Holy fuck… me in charge. My mouth drops open.
“What are you going to do with me?” he teases.
Oh the possibilities… my inner goddess roars, and from somewhere born of frustration, need, and sheer Steele bravery, I push him on to the bed. He laughs as he falls, and I gaze down at him feeling victorious. My inner goddess is going to explode. I yank off his shoes, quickly, clumsily, and his socks. He’s staring up at me, his eyes luminous with amusement and desire. He looks… glorious… mine. I crawl up the bed and sit astride him to undo his jeans, sliding my fingers under the waistband, feeling the hair in his oh so happy trail. He closes his eyes and flexes his hips.
“You’ll have to learn to keep still,” I scold, and I tug at the hair under his waistband.
His breath hitches, and he grins at me.
“Yes, Miss Steele,” he murmurs, eyes burning bright. “In my pocket, condom,” he breathes.
I search in his pocket slowly, watching his face as I feel around. His mouth is open. I fish out both foil packets that I find and lay them on the bed by his hips. Two! My over-eager fingers reach for the button of his waistband and undo it, fumbling a little. I am beyond excited.
“So eager, Miss Steele,” he murmurs, his voice laced with humor. I tug down the zipper, and now I’m faced with the problem of removing his pants… hmm. I shuffle down and pull. They hardly move. I frown. How can this be so difficult?
“I can’t keep still if you’re going to bite that lip,” he warns, then arches his pelvis up off the bed so I’m able to tug down his trousers and his boxers at the same time, whoa… freeing him. He kicks his clothes to the floor.
Holy Moses, he’s all mine to play with, and suddenly it’s Christmas.
“Now what are you going to do?” he breathes, all trace of humor gone. I reach up and touch him, watching his expression as I do. His mouth shapes like a letter O as he takes a sharp breath. His skin is so smooth and soft… and hard… hmm, what a delicious combination. I lean forward, my hair falling around me, and he’s in my mouth. I suck, hard. He closes his eyes, his hips jerking beneath me.
“Jeez, Ana, steady,” he groans.
I feel so powerful, it’s such a heady feeling, teasing and testing him with my mouth and tongue. He tenses underneath me as I run my mouth up and down him, pushing him to the back of my throat, my lips tight… again and again.
“Stop, Ana, stop. I don’t want to come.”
I sit up, blinking at him, and I’m panting like him, but confused. I thought I was in charge? My inner goddess looks like someone snatched her ice cream.
“You’re innocence and enthusiasm is very disarming,” he gasps. “You, on top… that’s what we need to do.”
“Here, put this on.” He hands me a foil packet.
Holy Crap. How? I rip the packet open, and the rubbery condom is all tacky in my fingers.
“Pinch the top and then roll it down. You don’t want any air in the end of that sucker,” he pants.
And very slowly, concentrating hard, I do as I’m told.
“Christ, you’re killing me here, Anastasia,” he groans.
I admire my handiwork and him. He really is a fine specimen of a man, looking at him is very, very arousing.
“Now. I want to be buried inside you,” he murmurs. I stare down at him, daunted, and he sits up suddenly, so we’re nose to nose.
“Like this,” he breathes, and he snakes one hand round my hips, lifting me slightly, and with the other he positions himself beneath me, and very slowly, eases me on to him.
I groan as he stretches me open, filling me, my mouth hanging open in surprise at the sweet, sublime, agonizing, over-full feeling. Oh… please.
“That’s right, baby, feel me, all of me,” he growls and briefly closes his eyes.
And he’s inside me, sheathed to the hilt, and he holds me in place, for seconds… minutes… I have no idea,, staring intently into my eyes.
“It’s deep this way,” he murmurs. He flexes and swivels his hips in the same motion, and I groan… oh my – the sensation radiates throughout my belly… everywhere. Fuck!
“Again,” I whisper. He grins a lazy grin and obliges.
Moaning, I throw my head back, my hair tumbling down my back, and very slowly, he sinks back down on to the bed.
“You move, Anastasia, up and down, how you want. Take my hands,” he breathes, his voice hoarse and low and oh so sexy.
I clasp his hands, holding on for life. Gently I push off him and back down, oh my. His eyes are burning with wild anticipation. His breathing is ragged, matching mine, and he lifts his pelvis as I come down, bouncing me back up. We pick up the rhythm… up, down, up, down… over and over… and it feels so… good. Between my panting breaths, the deep down, brimming fullness… the vehement sensation pulsing through me that’s building quickly, I watch him, our eyes locked… and I see wonder there, wonder at me.
I am fucking him. I am in charge. He’s mine, and I’m his. The thought pushes me, weighted with concrete, over the edge, and I climax around him… shouting incoherently. He grabs my hips, and closing his eyes, tipping his head back, his jaw strained, he comes quietly. I collapse on to his chest, overwhelmed, somewhere between fantasy and reality, a place where there are no hard or soft limits.

Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 14 (Read Online Free)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 14


Christian is standing over me grasping a plaited, leather riding-crop. He’s wearing old, faded, ripped Levis and that’s all. He flicks the crop slowly into his palm as he gazes down at me. He’s smiling, triumphant. I cannot move. I am naked and shackled, spread-eagled on a large four-poster bed. Reaching forward, he trails the tip of the crop from my forehead down the length of my nose, so I can smell the leather, and over my parted, panting lips. He pushes the tip into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, rich leather.
“Suck,” he commands his voice soft. My mouth closes over the tip as I obey.
“Enough,” he snaps.
I’m panting once more as he tugs the crop out of my mouth, trails it down and under my chin, on down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat. He swirls it slowly there and then continues to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, between my breasts, over my torso down to my navel. I’m panting, squirming, pulling against my restraints that are biting into my wrists and my ankles. He swirls the tip around my navel then continues to trail the leather tip south, through my pubic hair to my clitoris. He flicks the crop and it hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I come, gloriously, shouting my release.
Abruptly, I wake, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm. Holy hell. I’m completely disorientated. What the hell just happened? I’m in my bedroom alone. How? Why? I sit bolt upright, shocked… wow. It’s morning. I glance at my alarm clock – eight o’clock. I put my head in my hands. I didn’t know I
could dream sex. Was it something I ate? Perhaps the oysters and my Internet research manifesting itself in my first wet dream. It’s bewildering. I had no idea that I could orgasm in my sleep.
Kate is skipping around the kitchen when I stagger in.
“Ana, are you okay? You look odd. Is that Christian’s jacket you’re wearing?”
“I’m fine.” Damn, should have checked in the mirror. I avoid her piercing green eyes. I’m still reeling from my morning’s event. “Yes, this is Christian’s jacket.”
She frowns.
“Did you sleep?”
“Not very well.”
I head for the kettle. I need tea.
“How was dinner?”
So it begins.
“We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I’d say it was fishy.”
“Ugh… I hate oysters, and I don’t want to know about the food. How was Christian? What did you talk about?”
“He was attentive,” I pause.
What can I say? His HIV status is clear, he’s heavily into role-play, wants me to obey his every command, he hurt someone he tied to his bedroom ceiling, and he wanted to fuck me in the private dining room. Would that be a good summary? I try desperately to remember something from my encounter with Christian that I can discuss with Kate.
“He doesn’t approve of Wanda.”
“Who does, Ana? That’s old news. Why are you being so coy? Give it up, girlfriend.”
“Oh, Kate, we talked about lots things. You know – how fussy he is about food. Incidentally, he liked your dress.” The kettle has boiled, so I make myself some tea. “Do you want tea? Would you like me to hear your speech for today?”
“Yes, please. I worked on it last night over at Lilah’s. I’ll go fetch it. And yes, I’d love some tea.” Kate races out of the kitchen.
Phew, Katherine Kavanagh sidetracked. I slice a bagel and pop it into the toaster. I flush remembering my very vivid dream. What on earth was that about?
Last night I found it hard to sleep. My head was buzzing with various options. I am so confused. Christian’s idea of a relationship is more like a job offer. It has set hours, a job description, and a rather harsh grievance procedure. It’s not how I envisaged my first romance – but, of course, Christian doesn’t do romance. If I tell him I want more, he may say no… and I could jeopardize what he has offered. And this is what concerns me most, because I don’t want to lose him. But I’m not sure I have the stomach to be his submissive – deep down, it’s the canes and whips that put me off. I’m a physical coward, and I will go a long way to avoid pain. I think of my dream… is that what it would be like? My inner goddess jumps up and down with cheerleading pom-poms shouting yes at me.
Kate comes back into the kitchen with her laptop. I concentrate on my bagel and listen patiently as she runs through her Valedictorian speech.
I am dressed and ready when Ray arrives. I open the front door, and he’s standing on the porch in his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of affection. He’s taken-aback, bemused.
“Hey, Annie, I’m pleased to see you too,” he mutters as he hugs me. Setting me back, his hands on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. “You okay, kid?”
“Of course, Dad, can’t a girl be pleased to see her old man?”
He smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living area.
“You look good,” he says.
“This is Kate’s dress.” I glance down at the grey chiffon halter neck dress.
He frowns.
“Where is Kate?”
“She’s gone to campus. She’s giving a speech, so she has to be early.”
“Should we head on over?”
“Dad, we have half an hour. Would you like some tea? And you can tell me how everyone in Montesano is getting along. How was the drive down?”
Ray pulls his car into the campus parking lot, and we follow the stream of humanity dotted with ubiquitous black and red gowns, heading toward the sports auditorium.
“Good luck, Annie. You seem awfully nervous, do you have to do anything?”
Holy crap… why has Ray picked today to be so observant?
“No, Dad. It’s a big day.” And I’m going to see him.
“Yeah, my baby girl has gotten a degree. I’m proud of you, Annie.”
“Aw… thanks Ray.” Oh I love this man.
The sports auditorium is crowded. Ray has gone to sit with the other parents and well-wishers in the raked seating, while I make my way to my seat. I’m wearing my black gown and my cap, and I feel protected by them, anonymous. There is no one on the stage yet, but I can’t seem to steady my nerves. My heart is pounding, and my breathing is shallow. He’s here, somewhere. I wonder if Kate is talking to him, interrogating him maybe. I make my way to my seat amongst fellow students whose surnames also begin with S. I am in the second row, affording me yet more anonymity. I glance behind me and spot Ray sat up high in the bleachers. I give him a wave. He self-consciously gives me a half-wave, half-salute back. I sit and wait.
The auditorium fills quickly, and the buzz of excited voices gets louder and louder. The row of seats in front fills. On either side of me, I am joined by two girls whom I don’t know from a different faculty. They’re obviously close friends and talk across me excitedly.
At eleven precisely, the Chancellor appears from behind the stage, followed by the three Vice Chancellors, and then the senior professors, all decked out in their black and red regalia. We stand and applaud our teaching staff. Some Professors nod and wave, others look bored. Professor Collins, my tutor and my favorite teacher, looks like he’s just fallen out of bed, as usual. Last on to the stage are Kate and Christian. Christian stands out in his bespoke gray suit, copper highlights glinting in his hair under the auditorium lights. He looks so serious and self-contained. As he sits, he undoes his single-breasted jacket, and I
glimpse his tie. Holy shit… that tie! I rub my wrists reflexively. I cannot take my eyes off him – his beauty as distracting as ever – and he’s wearing that tie, on purpose no doubt. I can feel my mouth press into a hard line. The audience sits down and the applause ceases.
“Look at him!” One of the girls beside me breathes enthusiastically to her friend.
“He’s hot.”
I stiffen. I’m sure they’re not talking about Professor Collins.
“Must be Christian Grey.”
“Is he single?”
I bristle.
“I don’t think so,” I murmur.
“Oh.” Both girls look at me in surprise.
“I think he’s gay,” I mutter.
“What a shame,” one of the girls groans.
As the Chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the proceedings with his speech, I watch Christian subtly scanning the hall. I sink into my seat, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I fail miserably as a second later his gray eyes find mine. He stares at me, his face impassive, completely inscrutable. I squirm uncomfortably, hypnotized by his glare as I feel a slow flush spread across my face. Unbidden, I recall my dream from this morning, and the muscles in my belly do the delectable clench thing. I inhale sharply. I can see the shadow of a smile cross his lips, but it’s fleeting. He briefly closes his eyes, and on opening them, resumes his indifferent expression. Following a swift glance up at the Chancellor, he stares ahead, focusing on the WSUV emblem hung above the entrance. He doesn’t turn his eyes toward me again. The Chancellor drones on, and Christian still doesn’t look at me, he just stares fixedly ahead.
Why won’t he look at me? Perhaps he’s changed his mind? A wave of unease washes over me. Perhaps walking out on him last night was the end for him too. He’s bored of waiting for me to make up my mind. Oh no, I could have completely blown it. I remember his email last night. Maybe he’s mad that I haven’t replied.
Suddenly, the room erupts into applause as Miss Katherine Kavanagh has taken the stage. The Chancellor sits, and Kate tosses her lovely long hair behind her as she places her papers on the lectern. She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people gawping at her. She smiles when she’s ready, looks up at the captivated throng, and launches eloquently into her speech. She’s so composed and funny, the girls beside me erupt on cue at her first joke. Oh, Katherine Kavanagh, you can deliver a good line. I feel so proud of her at that moment, my errant thoughts of Christian are pushed to one side. Even though I have heard her speech before, I listen carefully. She commands the room and takes her audience with her.
Her theme is What Next After College? Oh, what next indeed. Christian is watching Kate, his eyebrows slightly raised – in surprise, I think. Yes, it could have been Kate that went to interview him. And it could have been Kate that he was now making indecent proposals to. Beautiful Kate and beautiful Christian, together. I could be like the two girls beside me, admiring him from afar. I know Kate wouldn’t have given him the time of day. What did she call him the other day? Creepy. The thought of a confrontation between Kate
and Christian makes me uncomfortable. I have to say I don’t know which of them I would put my money on.
Kate concludes her speech with a flourish, and spontaneously everyone stands, applauding and cheering, her first standing ovation. I beam at her and cheer, and she grins back at me. Good job, Kate. She sits, as does the audience, and the Chancellor rises and introduces Christian… holy shit, Christian’s going to give a speech. The Chancellor touches briefly on Christian’s achievements: CEO of his own extraordinarily successful company, a real self-made man.
“And also a major benefactor to our University, please welcome, Mr. Christian Grey.”
The Chancellor pumps Christian’s hand, and there is a swell of polite applause. My heart’s in my throat. He approaches the lectern and surveys the hall. He looks so confident standing in front of us all, as Kate did before him. The two girls beside me lean in, enraptured. In fact, I think most of the female members of the audience inch closer and a few of the men. He begins, his voice soft, measured, and mesmerizing.
“I’m profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of WSU today. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental science department here at the University. Our aim is to develop viable and ecologically sustainable methods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe. Over a billion people, mainly in Sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world and the result is ecological and social destruction. I have known what it’s like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me… ”
My jaw falls to the floor. What? Christian was hungry once. Holy crap. Well, that explains a great deal. And I recall the interview; he really does want to feed the world. I desperately rack my brains to remember what Kate had written in her article. Adopted at age four, I think. I can’t imagine that Grace starved him, so it must have been before then, as a little boy. I swallow, my heart constricting at the thought of a hungry, gray-eyed toddler. Oh no. What kind of life did he have before the Greys got hold of him and rescued him?
I’m seized by a sense of raw outrage, poor, fucked-up, kinky, philanthropic Christian – though I’m sure he wouldn’t see himself this way and would repel any thoughts of sympathy or pity. Abruptly, everyone bursts into applause and stands. I follow, though I haven’t heard half his speech. He’s doing all of these good works, running a huge company, and chasing me at the same time. It’s overwhelming. I remember the brief snippets of conversations he’s had about Darfur… it all falls into place. Food.
He smiles briefly at the warm applause – even Kate is clapping, then he resumes his seat. He doesn’t look my way, and I’m off-kilter trying to assimilate this new information about him.
One of the Vice Chancellors rises, and we begin the long, tedious process of collecting our degrees. There are over four hundred to be given out, and it takes just over an hour before I hear my name. I make my way up to the stage between the two giggling girls. Christian gazes down at me, his gaze warm but guarded.
“Congratulations, Miss Steele,” he says as he shakes my hand, squeezing it gently. I feel the charge of his flesh on mine. “Do you have a problem with your laptop?”
I frown as he hands me my degree.
“Then you are ignoring my emails?”
“I only saw the mergers and acquisitions one.”
He looks quizzically at me.
“Later,” he says, and I have to move on because I’m holding up the line.
I go back to my seat. Emails? He must have sent another. What did it say?
The ceremony takes another hour to conclude. It’s interminable. Finally, the Chancellor leads the faculty members off the stage to yet more rousing applause, preceded by Christian and Kate. Christian does not glance at me, even though I’m willing him to do it. My inner goddess is not pleased.
As I stand and wait for our row to disperse, Kate calls to me. She’s heading my way from behind the stage.
“Christian wants to talk to you,” she shouts. The two girls who are now standing beside me turn and gape at me.
“He’s sent me out here,” she continues.
“Your speech was great, Kate.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” she beams. “Are you coming? He can be very insistent.” She rolls her eyes, and I grin.
“You have no idea. I can’t leave Ray for long.” I glance up at Ray and hold my fingers up indicating five minutes. He nods, giving me an okay sign, and I follow Kate into the corridor behind the stage. Christian is talking to the Chancellor and two of the teaching staff. He looks up when he sees me.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I hear him murmur. He comes toward me and smiles briefly at Kate.
“Thank you,” he says, and before she can reply, he takes my elbow and steers me into what looks like a men’s locker room. He checks to see if it’s empty, and then he locks the door.
Holy shit, what does he have in mind? I blink up at him as he turns on me.
“Why haven’t you emailed me? Or texted me back?” He glares. I’m nonplussed.
“I haven’t looked at my computer today, or my phone.” Crap, has he been trying to call? I try my distraction technique that’s so effective on Kate. “That was a great speech.”
“Thank you.”
“Explains your food issues to me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated.
“Anastasia, I don’t want to go there at the moment.” He closes his eyes, looking pained. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Worried, why?”
“Because you went home in that deathtrap you call a car.”
“What? It’s not a deathtrap. It’s fine. José regularly services it for me.”
“José, the photographer?” Christian’s eyes narrow, his face frosting. Oh Crap.
“Yes, the Beetle used to belong to his mother.”
“Yes, and probably her mother and her mother before her. It’s not safe.”
“I’ve been driving it for over three years. I’m sorry you were worried. Why didn’t you call?” Jeez, he’s completely over-reacting.
He takes a deep breath.
“Anastasia, I need an answer from you. This waiting around is driving me crazy.”
“Christian, I… look, I’ve left my stepdad on his own.”
“Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow.”
“Okay. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you then.” I blink at him.
He steps back, regarding me coolly, and his shoulders relax.
“Are you staying for drinks?” he asks.
“I don’t know what Ray wants to do.”
“Your stepfather? I’d like to meet him.”
Oh no… why?
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Christian unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line.
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“No!” It’s my turn to sound exasperated. “Introduce you to my dad as what? ‘This is the man who deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship’. You’re not wearing running shoes.”
Christian glares down at me, and then his lips twitch up in a smile. And in spite of the fact I’m mad at him, my face is unwillingly pulled into an answering grin.
“Just so you know, I can run quite fast. Just tell him I’m your friend, Anastasia.”
He opens the door, and I head out. My mind is whirling. The Chancellor, the three Vice Chancellors, four professors, and Kate stare at me as I walk hastily past them. Holy crap. Leaving Christian with the faculty I go in search of Ray.
Tell him I’m your friend. Friend with benefits, my subconscious scowls. I know, I know. I shake the unpleasant thought away. How will I introduce him to Ray? The hall is still at least half full, and Ray has not moved from his spot. He sees me, waves, and makes his way down.
“Hey, Annie. Congratulations.” He puts his arm around me.
“Would you like to come and have a drink in the marquee?”
“Sure. It’s your day. Lead the way.”
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Please say no…
“Annie, I’ve just sat for two and half hours listening to all kinds of jabbering. I need a drink.”
I put my arm through his, and we stroll out with the throng into the warmth of the early afternoon. We pass the line for the official photographer.
“Oh, that reminds me.” Ray drags a digital camera out of his pocket. “One for the album, Annie.” I roll my eyes at him as he snaps a picture of me.
“Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel kind of dorky.”
You look kinda dorky… my subconscious is at her snarky best. So are you going to introduce Ray to the man you’re fucking? She is glaring at me over her wing-shaped spectacles. He’d be so proud. God, I hate her sometimes.
The marquee is immense, and crowded – students, parents, teachers, and friends, all chattering happily. Ray hands me a glass of champagne or cheap fizzy wine, I suspect. It’s not chilled, and it tastes sweet. My thoughts turn to Christian… he won’t like this.
“Ana!” I turn, and Ethan Kavanagh scoops me into his arms. He twirls me around, without spilling my wine, some feat.
“Congratulations!” He beams down at me, green eyes twinkling.
What a surprise. His dirty blonde hair tousled and sexy-looking. He’s as beautiful as Kate. The family resemblance is striking.
“Wow – Ethan! How lovely to see you. Dad, this is Ethan, Kate’s brother. Ethan, this is my dad, Ray Steele.” They shake hands, my dad coolly assessing Mr. Kavanagh.
“When did you get back from Europe?” I ask.
“I’ve been back for a week, but I wanted to surprise my little sister,” he says conspiratorially.
“That’s so sweet.” I grin up at him.
“She is Valedictorian, couldn’t miss that.” He looks immensely proud of his sister.
“She gave a great speech.”
“That she did,” Ray agrees.
Ethan has his arm around my waist when I look up into the frosty gray eyes of Christian Grey. Kate is beside him.
“Hello, Ray,” Kate kisses Ray on both cheeks, making him blush. “Have you met Ana’s boyfriend? Christian Grey.”
Holy shit… Kate! Fuck! All the blood drains from my face.
“Mr. Steele, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Christian says smoothly, warmly, completely unflustered by Kate’s introduction. He holds out his hand, which, all credit to Ray, Ray takes, not showing a hint of the drop-dead surprise he’s just had thrust upon him.
Thank you very much, Katherine Kavanagh, I fume. I think my subconscious has fainted.
“Mr. Grey,” Ray murmurs, his expression indecipherable except perhaps for the slight widening of his big brown eyes. They slide over my face with a when-were-you-going-to-give-me-this-news look. I bite my lip.
“And this is my brother, Ethan Kavanagh.” says Kate to Christian.
Christian turns his arctic glare on Ethan, who still has one arm around me.
“Mr. Kavanagh.”
They shake hands. Christian holds his hand out to me.
“Ana, baby,” he murmurs, and I nearly expire at the endearment.
I walk out of Ethan’s grasp, while Christian smiles icily at him, and I take my place at his side. Kate grins at me. She knows exactly what she’s doing, the vixen!
“Ethan, Mom and Dad wanted a word.” Kate drags Ethan away.
“So how long have you kids known each other?” Ray looks impassively from Christian to me.
The power of speech has deserted me. I want the ground to swallow me up. Christian puts his arm around me, his thumb skimming my naked back in a caress, before his hand clasps my shoulder.
“Couple of weeks or so now,” he says smoothly. “We met when Anastasia came to interview me for the student magazine.”
“Didn’t know you worked on the student magazine, Ana.” Ray’s voice is a quiet admonishment, revealing his irritation. Shit.
“Kate was ill,” I murmur. It’s all I can manage.
“Fine speech you gave, Mr. Grey.”
“Thank you, sir. I understand that you’re a keen fisherman.”
Ray raises his eyebrows and smiles – a rare, genuine, bona fide Ray Steele smile – and off they go, talking fish. In fact, I soon feel surplus to requirements. He’s charming the pants off my dad… like he did you, my subconscious snaps at me. His power knows no bounds. I excuse myself to go and find Kate.
She’s talking to her parents, who are delightful as ever and greet me warmly. We exchange brief pleasantries, mostly about their up and coming holiday to Barbados and about our move.
“Kate, how could you out me to Ray?” I hiss at the first opportunity we won’t be overheard.
“Because I knew you never would, and I want to help with Christian’s commitment issues.” Kate smiles at me sweetly.
I scowl. It’s me that won’t commit to him, silly!
“He seems trés cool about it, Ana. Don’t sweat it. Look at him now – Christian cannot take his eyes off you.” I glance up, and both Ray and Christian are looking at me. “He’s been watching you like a hawk.”
“I’d better go rescue Ray or Christian. I don’t know which. You haven’t heard the last of this, Katherine Kavanagh!” I glare at her.
“Ana, I did you a favor,” she calls after me.
“Hi.” I smile at both of them on my return.
They seem okay. Christian is enjoying some private joke, and my dad looks unbelievably relaxed given he’s in a social situation. What have they been discussing apart from fish?
“Ana, where are the restrooms?”
“Back out front of the marquee and to the left.”
“See you in a moment. You kids enjoy yourselves.”
Ray heads out. I glance nervously up at Christian. We pause briefly as a photographer takes a picture of both of us.
“Thank you, Mr. Grey.” The photographer scurries off. I blink from the flash.
“So you’ve charmed my father as well?”
“As well?” Christian’s gray eyes burn, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. I flush. He lifts his hand and traces my cheek with his fingers.
“Oh, I wish I knew what you were thinking, Anastasia,” he whispers darkly, cupping my chin and raising my head so that we gaze intently into each other’s eyes.
My breath hitches. How can he have this effect on me, even in this crowded tent?
“Right now, I’m thinking, nice tie,” I breathe.
He chuckles.
“It’s recently become my favorite.”
I blush scarlet.
“You look lovely, Anastasia, this halter-neck dress suits you, and I get to stroke your back, feel your beautiful skin.”
Suddenly, it’s like we’re on our own in the room. Just the two of us, my whole body has come alive, every nerve ending singing softly, that electricity pulling me to him, charging between us.
“You know it’s going to be good, don’t you, baby?” he whispers. I close my eyes as my insides uncoil and melt.
“But I want more,” I whisper.
“More?” he looks down at me puzzled, his eyes darkening. I nod and swallow. Now he knows.
“More,” he says again softly. Testing the word – a small, simple word, but so full of promise. His thumb traces my lower lip. “You want hearts and flowers.”
I nod again. He blinks down at me, and I watch his internal struggle played out in his eyes.
“Anastasia.” His voice is soft. “It’s not something I know.”
“Me neither.”
He smiles slightly.
“You don’t know much,” he murmurs.
“You know all the wrong things.”
“Wrong? Not to me.” He shakes his head. He looks so sincere. “Try it,” he whispers. A challenge, daring me, and he cocks his head to one side and smiles his crooked, dazzling smile.
I gasp, and I’m Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he’s the serpent, and I cannot resist.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“What?” I have his full, undivided attention. I swallow.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“You’re agreeing?” His disbelief is evident.
“Subject to the soft limits, yes. I’ll try.” My voice is so small. Christian closes his eyes and pulls me into an embrace.
“Jesus, Ana, you’re so unexpected. You take my breath away.”
He steps back, and suddenly Ray’s returned, and the volume in the marquee gradually rises and fills my ears. We are not alone. Holy shit, I’ve just agreed to be his sub. Christian smiles at Ray, and his eyes are dancing with joy.
“Annie, should we get some lunch?”
“Okay.” I blink up at Ray, trying to find my equilibrium. What have you done? My subconscious screams at me. My inner goddess is doing back flips in a routine worthy of a Russian Olympic gymnast.
“Would you like to join us, Christian?” Ray asks.
Christian! I stare up at him, imploring him to refuse. I need space to think… what the fuck have I done?
“Thank you, Mr. Steele, but I have plans. It’s been great to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise,” Ray responds. “Look after my baby girl.”
“Oh, I fully intend to, Mr. Steele.”
They shake hands. I feel sick. Ray has no idea how Christian intends to look after me. Christian takes my hand and raises it to his lips and kisses my knuckles tenderly, his scorching eyes intent on mine.
“Later, Miss Steele,” he breathes, his voice full of promise.
My belly curls at the thought… oh my. Hang on… later?
Ray takes my elbow and leads me toward the entrance to the tent.
“Seems a solid young man. Well-off too. You could do a lot worse, Annie. Though why I had to hear about him from Katherine,” he scolds.
I shrug apologetically.
“Well, any man who likes and knows his fly-fishing is okay with me.”
Holy cow – Ray approves. If only he knew.
Ray drops me back at the house at dusk.
“Call your mom,” he says.
“I will. Thanks for coming, Dad.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Annie. You make me so proud.”
Oh no. I’m not going to get emotional. A huge lump forms in my throat, and I hug him, hard. He puts his arms around me, bemused, and I can’t help it – tears pool in my eyes.
“Hey, Annie, sweetheart,” Ray croons. “Big old day… eh? Want me to come in and make you some tea?”
I laugh, in spite of my tears. Tea is always the answer according to Ray. I remember my mother complaining about him, saying that when it came to tea and sympathy, he was always good at the tea, not so hot on the sympathy.
“No, Dad, I’m good. It’s been so great to see you. I’ll visit real soon once I’m settled in Seattle.”
“Good luck with the interviews. Let me know how they go.”
“Sure thing, Dad.”
“Love you, Annie.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
He smiles, his brown eyes warm, glowing, and he climbs back into his car. I wave him off as he drives into the dusk, and I wander listlessly back into the apartment.
First thing I do is check my cell phone. It needs recharging, so I have to hunt down the charger and plug it in before I can collect my messages. Four missed calls, one voice message, and two texts. Three missed calls from Christian… no messages. One missed call from José and a voice mail from him wishing me all the best for graduation.
I open the texts.
*Are you home safe*
*Call me*
They are both from Christian, why didn’t he call the house? I head into my bedroom and fire up the mean machine.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tonight
Date: May 25 2011 23:58
To: Anastasia Steele
I hope you made it home in that car of yours.
Let me know if you’re okay.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Jeez… why is he so worried about my Beetle. It has given me three years of loyal service, and José has always been on hand to maintain it for me. Christian’s next email is from today.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 17:22
To: Anastasia Steele
What can I say that I haven’t already?
Happy to talk these through anytime.
You looked beautiful today.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I want to see him. I hit reply
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:23
To: Christian Grey
I can come over this evening to discuss if you’d like.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:27
To: Anastasia Steele
I’ll come to you. I meant it when I said I wasn’t happy about you driving that car.
I’ll be with you shortly.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Holy crap… he’s coming over now. I have to get one thing ready for him – the first edition Thomas Hardy books are still on the shelves in the living room. I cannot keep them. I wrap them in brown paper, and I scrawl on the wrapping a direct quote from Tess from the book:
“I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my patients ought to be; only – only – don’t make it more than I can bear!”

Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 13 (Read Online Free)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 13


The following day, I call my mom when I’m home from work. It’s been a relatively peaceful day at the Clayton’s, allowing me far too much time to think. I’m restless, nervous about my showdown with Mr. Control Freak tomorrow, and at the back of my mind, I’m worried that perhaps I’ve been too negative in my response to the contract. Perhaps he’ll call the whole thing off.
My mom is oozing contrition, desperately sorry not to make my graduation. Bob has twisted some ligament which means he’s hobbling all over the place. Honestly, he’s as accident-prone as I am. He’s expected to make a full recovery, but it means he’s resting up, and my mother has to wait on him hand and sore foot.
“Ana honey, I’m so sorry,” my mom whines down the phone.
“Mom, it’s fine. Ray will be there.”
“Ana, you sound distracted – are you okay, baby?”
“Yes, Mom,” Oh if only you knew. There’s an obscenely rich guy I’ve met and he wants some kind of strange kinky sexual relationship, in which I don’t get a say in things.
“Have you met someone?”
“No, Mom.” I am so not going there right now.
“Well, darling, I’ll be thinking of you on Thursday. I love you… you know that honey?”
I close my eyes, her precious words give me a warm glow inside.
“Love you too, Mom. Say hi to Bob, and I hope he gets better fast.”
“Will do, honey. Bye.”
I have strayed into my bedroom with the phone. Idly, I switch the mean machine on and fire up the email program. There’s an email from Christian from late last night or very early this morning, depending on your point of view. My heart rate spikes instantly, and I hear the blood pumping in my ears. Holy crap… perhaps he’s said no – that’s it – maybe he’s canceling dinner. The thought is so painful. I dismiss it quickly and open the email.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your Issues
Date: May 24 2011 01:27
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
Following my more thorough examination of your issues, may I bring to your attention the definition of submissive.
submissive [suhb-mis-iv] – adjective1. inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient: submissive servants.2. marked by or indicating submission: a submissive reply.Origin: 1580–90; submiss + -iveSynonyms: 1. tractable, compliant, pliant, amenable. 2. passive, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued. Antonyms: 1. rebellious, disobedient.Please bear this in mind for our meeting on Wednesday.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
My initial feeling is one of relief. He’s willing to discuss my issues at least, and he still wants to meet tomorrow. After some thought, I reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: My Issues… What about Your Issues?
Date: May 24 2011 18:29
To: Christian Grey
SirPlease note the date of origin: 1580-90. I would respectfully remind Sir that the year is 2011. We have come a long way since then.
May I offer a definition for you to consider for our meeting:
compromise [kom-pruh-mahyz] – noun1. a settlement of differences by mutual concessions; an agreement reached by adjustment of conflicting or opposing claims, principles, etc., by reciprocal modification of demands. 2. the result of such a settlement. 3. something intermediate between different things: The split-level is a compromise between a ranch house and a multistoried house. 4. an endangering, esp. of reputation; exposure to danger, suspicion, etc.: a compromise
of one’s integrity.Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What about My Issues?
Date: May 24 2011 18:32
To: Anastasia Steele
Good point, well made, as ever, Miss Steele. I will collect you from your apartment at 7:00 tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: 2011 – Women can drive
Date: May 24 2011 18:40
To: Christian Grey
I have a car. I can drive.
I would prefer to meet you somewhere.
Where shall I meet you?
At your hotel at 7:00?
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Stubborn Young Women
Date: May 24 2011 18:43
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I refer to my email dated May 24, 2011 sent at 1:27 and the definition contained therein.
Do you ever think you’ll be able to do what you’re told?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Intractable Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:49
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey
I would like to drive.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Exasperated Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:52
To: Anastasia Steele
My hotel at 7:00.
I’ll meet you in the Marble Bar.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
He’s even grumpy by email. Doesn’t he understand that I may need to make a quick getaway? Not that my Beetle is quick… but still – I need a means of escape.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Not So Intractable Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:55
To: Christian Grey
Thank you.
Ana x
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Exasperating Women
Date: May 24 2011 18:59
To: Anastasia Steele
You’re welcome.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I call Ray, who is just about to watch the Sounders play some soccer team from Salt Lake City, so our conversation is mercifully brief. He’s driving down on Thursday for graduation. He wants to take me out afterward for a meal. My heart swells talking to Ray, and a huge lump knots in my throat. He has been my constant through all mom’s romantic ups and downs. We have a special bond that I treasure. Even though he’s my stepdad, he’s always treated me as his own, and I can’t wait to see him. It’s been too long. His quiet fortitude is what I need now, what I miss. Maybe I can channel my inner Ray for my meeting tomorrow.
Kate and I concentrate on packing, sharing a bottle of cheap red wine as we do. When I finally go to bed, having almost finished packing my room, I feel calmer. The physical activity of boxing everything up has been a welcome distraction, and I’m tired. I want a good night’s sleep. I snuggle into my bed and am soon asleep.
Paul is back from Princeton before he sets off for New York to start an internship with a financing company. He follows me round the store all day asking me for a date. It’s annoying.
“Paul, for the hundredth time, I have a date this evening.”
“No, you don’t, you’re just saying that to avoid me. You’re always avoiding me.”
Yes… you’d think you’d take the hint.
“Paul, I never thought it was a good idea to date the boss’s brother.”
“You’re finishing here on Friday. You’re not working tomorrow.”
“And I’ll be in Seattle as of Saturday and you’ll be in New York soon. We couldn’t get much further apart if we tried. Besides, I do have a date this evening.”
“With José?”
“Who then?”
“Paul… oh.” My sigh is exasperated. He’s not going to let this go. “Christian Grey.” I cannot help the annoyance in my voice. But it does the trick. Paul’s mouth falls open, and he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph – even his name renders people speechless.
“You have a date with Christian Grey,” he says finally, once he’s over the shock. Disbelief is evident in his voice.
“I see.” Paul looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers.
After that, he ignores me, and at five I am out of the door, pronto.
Kate has lent me two dresses and two pairs of shoes for tonight and for graduation tomorrow. I wish I could feel more enthused about clothes and make an extra effort, but clothes are just not my thing. What is your thing, Anastasia? Christian’s softly spoken question haunts me. Shaking my head and endeavoring to quell my nerves, I decide on the plum-colored sheath dress for this evening. It’s demure and vaguely business-like – after all, I am negotiating a contract.
I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half-hour drying it so that it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back. I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip-gloss. I rarely wear make-up – it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with make-up – maybe I’d know more about it if they had. I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I’m ready by six-thirty.
“Well?” I ask Kate.
She grins.
“Boy, you scrub up well, Ana.” She nods with approval. “You look hot.”
“Hot! I’m aiming for demure and business-like.”
“That too, but most of all, hot. The dress really suits you and your coloring. The way it clings.” She smirks.
“Kate!” I scold.
“Just keeping it real, Ana. The whole package – looks good. Keep the dress. You’ll have him eating out of your hand.”
My mouth presses in a hard line. Oh, you so have that the wrong way round.
“Wish me luck.”
“You need luck for a date?” Her brow furrows, puzzled.
“Yes, Kate.”
“Well then – good luck.” She hugs me, and I am out the front door.
I have to drive in my bare feet – Wanda, my sea-blue Beetle, wasn’t built to be driven by stiletto-wearers. I pull up outside the Heathman at six-fifty-eight precisely and hand my car keys to the valet for parking. He looks askance at my Beetle, but I ignore him. Taking a deep breath and mentally girding my loins, I head into the hotel.
Christian is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of white wine. He’s dressed in his customary white linen shirt, black jeans, black tie, and black jacket. His hair is as tousled as ever. I sigh. Of course he looks gorgeous. I stand for a few seconds in the entrance of the bar, gazing at him, admiring the view. He is beyond beautiful. He glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills when he sees me. Blinking a couple of times, he then smiles a slow, lazy, sexy smile that renders me speechless and all molten inside. Making a supreme effort not to bite my lip, I move forward aware that I, Anastasia Steele of Clumsyville, am in high stilettos. He walks gracefully over to meet me.
“You look stunning,” he murmurs as he leans down to briefly kiss my cheek. “A dress, Miss Steele. I approve.” Taking my arm, he leads me to a secluded booth and signals for the waiter.
“What would you like to drink?”
My lips quirk up in a quick, sly smile as I sit and slide into the booth – well, at least he’s asking me.
“I’ll have what you’re having, please.” See! I can play nice and behave myself. Amused, he orders another glass of Sancerre and slides in opposite me.
“They have an excellent wine cellar here,” he says, cocking his head to one side.
Putting his elbows on the table, he steeples his fingers in front of his beautiful mouth, his gray eyes alive with some unreadable emotion. And there it is… that familiar pull and charge from him, it connects somewhere deep inside me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my heart palpitating. I must keep my cool.
“Are you nervous?” he asks softly.
He leans forward.
“Me too,” he whispers conspiratorially. My eyes shoot up to meet his. Him. Nervous. Never. I blink at him, and he smiles his adorable lopsided smile at me. The waiter arrives with my wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.
“So, how are we going to do this?” I ask. “Run through my points one by one?”
“Impatient as ever, Miss Steele.”
“Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today?”
He smiles, and his long fingers reach down to collect an olive. He pops it in his mouth, and my eyes linger on his mouth, that mouth, that’s been on me… all parts of me. I flush.
“I thought the weather was particularly unexceptional today,” he smirks.
“Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?”
“I am, Miss Steele.”
“You know this contract is legally unenforceable.”
“I am fully aware of that, Miss Steele.”
“Were you going to tell me that at any point?”
He frowns at me.
“You’d think I’d coerce you into something you don’t want to do, and then pretend that I have a legal hold over you?”
“Well… yes.”
“You don’t think very highly of me at all, do you?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Anastasia, it doesn’t matter if it’s legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make with you – what I would like from you and what you can expect from me. If you don’t like it, then don’t sign. If you do sign, and then decide you don’t like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away. Even if it were legally binding, do you think I’d drag you through the courts if you did decide to run?”
I take a long draft of my wine. My subconscious taps me hard on the shoulder. You must keep your wits about you. Don’t drink too much.
“Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust,” he continues. “If you don’t trust me – trust me to know how I’m affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you – if you can’t be honest with me, then we really can’t do this.”
Oh my, we’ve cut to the chase quickly. How far he can take me. Holy shit. What does that mean?
“So it’s quite simple, Anastasia. Do you trust me or not?” His eyes are burning, fervent.
“Did you have similar discussions with um… the fifteen?”
“Why not?”
“Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of a relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of fine-tuning the soft limits, details like that.”
“Is there a store you go to? Submissives R Us?”
He laughs.
“Not exactly.”
“Then how?”
“Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your issues, as you say.”
I swallow. Do I trust him? Is that what this all comes down to – trust? Surely that should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned José.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, distracting me from my thoughts.
Oh no… food.
“Have you eaten today?”
I stare at him. Honesty… Holy crap, he’s not going to like my answer.
“No.” My voice is small.
He narrows his eyes.
“You have to eat, Anastasia. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you prefer?”
“I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground.”
He smiles sardonically.
“Do you think that would stop me?” he says softly, a sensual warning.
My eyes widen, and I swallow again.
“I hope so.”
“Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public.” He smiles at me enigmatically and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.
“Bring your wine,” he murmurs.
Placing my hand in his, I slide out and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his hand reaches for my elbow. He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor. A young man in full Heathman livery approaches us.
“Mr. Grey, this way sir.”
We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. Just one secluded table. The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Christian sits opposite me. I peek up at him.
“Don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.
I frown. Damn it. I don’t even know that I’m doing it.
“I’ve ordered already. I hope you don’t mind.”
Frankly, I’m relieved, I’m not sure I can make any further decisions.
“No, that’s fine,” I acquiesce.
“It’s good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where were we?”
“The nitty-gritty.” I take another large sip of wine. It really is delicious. Christian Grey does wine well. I remember the last sip of wine he gave me, in my bed. I blush at the intrusive thought.
“Yes, your issues.” He fishes into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. My email.
“Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft.”
I blink at him. Holy shit… we are going to go through each of these points one at a time. I just don’t feel so brave face to face. He looks so earnest. I steel myself with another sip of my wine. Christian continues.
“My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are
clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I’m vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing.”
Wow… control freakery gone mad. I blink at him shocked.
“I have never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your question?”
I nod, impassive.
“Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Anastasia. I won’t stop you. If you go, however – that’s it. Just so you know.”
“Okay,” I answer softly. If I go, that’s it. The thought is surprisingly painful.
The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eat? Holy Moses – he’s ordered oysters on a bed of ice.
“I hope you like oysters,” Christian’s voice is soft.
“I’ve never had one.” Ever.
“Really? Well.” He reaches for one. “All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that.” He gazes at me, and I know what he’s referring to. I blush scarlet. He grins at me, squirts some lemon juice onto his oyster, and then tips it into his mouth.
“Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea,” he grins at me. “Go on,” he encourages.
“So, I don’t chew it?”
“No, Anastasia, you don’t.” His eyes are alight with humor. He looks so young like this.
I bite my lip, and his expression changes instantly. He looks sternly at me. I reach across and pick up my first ever oyster. Okay… here goes nothing. I squirt some lemon juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all seawater, salt, the sharp tang of citrus, and fleshiness… ooh. I lick my lips, and he’s watching me intently, his eyes hooded.
“I’ll have another,” I say dryly.
“Good girl,” he says proudly.
“Did you choose these deliberately? Aren’t they known for their aphrodisiac qualities?”
“No, they are the first item on the menu. I don’t need an aphrodisiac near you. I think you know that, and I think you react the same way near me,” he says simply. “So where were we?” He glances at my email as I reach for another oyster.
He reacts the same way. I affect him… wow.
“Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it as role-play Anastasia.”
“But I’m worried you’ll hurt me.”
“Hurt you how?”
“Physically.” And emotionally.
“Do you really think I would do that? Go beyond any limit you can’t take?”
“You’ve said you’ve hurt someone before.”
“Yes, I have. It was a long time ago.”
“How did you hurt them?”
“I suspended them from my playroom ceiling. In fact, that’s one of your questions. Suspension – that’s what the karabiners are for in the playroom. Rope play. One of the ropes was tied too tightly.”
I hold my hand up begging him to stop.
“I don’t need to know any more. So you won’t suspend me then?”
“Not if you really don’t want to. You can make that a hard limit.”
“So obeying, do you think you can manage that?”
He stares at me, his gray eyes intense. The seconds tick by.
“I could try,” I whisper.
“Good.” He smiles. “Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now,” he pauses.
He can’t stay away from me? What?
“How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself – but I get a midweek night that week?”
“And please, let’s try it for three months. If it’s not for you then, you can walk away anytime.”
“Three months?” I’m feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat myself to another oyster. I could learn to like these.
“The ownership thing, that’s just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying. It’s to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I’m coming from. And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That’s why you have to trust me. I will fuck you, any time, any way, I want – anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you’ve not done this before. Initially, we’ll take it slowly, and I will help you. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The “or otherwise” – again it’s to help you get into the mindset, it means anything goes.”
He’s so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is… I can’t take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.
“Still with me?” he whispers, his voice rich, warm and seductive. He takes a sip of his wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.
The waiter comes to the door, and Christian subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear our table.
“Would you like some more wine?”
“I have to drive.”
“Some water then?”
I nod.
“Still or sparkling?”
“Sparkling, please.”
The waiter leaves.
“You’re very quiet,” Christian whispers.
“You’re very verbose.”
He smiles.
“Discipline. There’s a very fine line between pleasure and pain Anastasia. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don’t believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can’t handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Ana?”
“Yes, I do.” I respond spontaneously, not thinking… because it’s true – I do trust him.
“Well then,” he looks relieved. “The rest of this stuff is just details.”
“Important details.”
“Okay, let’s talk through those.”
My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Kate’s mini disc player so I can listen back to this. There is so much information, so much to process. The waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hollandaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.
“I hope you like fish,” Christian says mildly.
I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was wine.
“The rules. Let’s talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?”
“Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?”
“No.” I am so not backing down on this. No one is going to dictate to me what I eat. How I fuck, yes, but eat… no, no way.
He purses his lips.
“I need to know that you’re not hungry.”
I frown. Why?
“You’ll have to trust me.”
He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes.
“Touché, Miss Steele,” he says quietly. “I concede the food and the sleep.”
“Why can’t I look at you?”
“That’s a Dom/sub thing. You’ll get used to it.”
Will I?
“Why can’t I touch you?”
“Because you can’t.”
His mouth sets in a mulish line.
“Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?”
He looks quizzically at me.
“Why would you think that?” And immediately he understands. “You think she traumatized me?”
I nod.
“No Anastasia. She’s not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t take any of that shit from me.”
Oh… but I have to. I pout.
“So nothing to do with her.”
“No. And I don’t want you touching yourself, either.”
What? Ah yes, the no masturbation clause.
“Out of curiosity… why?”
“Because I want all your pleasure,” his voice is husky, but determined.
Oh… I have no answer for that. On one level it’s up there with, ‘I want to bite that lip’, on another, it’s so selfish. I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what concessions I’ve gained. The food, the sleep, I can look him in the eye. He’s going to take it slow, and we haven’t discussed soft limits. But I’m not sure I can face that over food.
“I’ve given you a great deal to think about haven’t I?”
“Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?”
“Not over dinner.”
He smiles.
“Something like that.”
“You’ve not eaten very much.”
“I’ve had enough.”
“Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you’ve not eaten all day. You said I could trust you.”
Jeez. He’s kept an inventory.
“Christian, please, it’s not every day I sit through conversations like this.”
“I need you fit and healthy Anastasia.”
“I know.”
“And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress.”
I swallow. Peel me out of Kate’s dress. I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I’m now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can’t have this. His most potent weapon, used against me again. He’s so good at sex – even I’ve figured this out.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmur quietly. “We haven’t had dessert.”
“You want dessert?” he snorts.
“You could be dessert,” he murmurs suggestively.
“I’m not sure I’m sweet enough.”
“Anastasia, you’re deliciously sweet. I know.”
“Christian. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn’t fair,” I whisper, staring down at my hands, and then looking directly at him. He raises his eyebrows, surprised, and I see he’s considering my words. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.
“You’re right. I do. In life you use what you know, Anastasia. Doesn’t change how much I want you. Here. Now.”
How can he seduce me solely with his voice? I’m panting already – my heated blood rushing through my veins, my nerves tingling.
“I’d like to try something,” he breathes.
I frown. He’s just given me a shit load of ideas to process and now this.
“If you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about this. It would be easy.” His voice is soft, seductive. “All those decisions – all the wearying thought processes behind them. The – is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now? You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that detail. That’s what I’d do as your Dom. And right now, I know you want me, Anastasia.”
My frown deepens. How can he tell?
“I can tell because… ”
Holy shit he’s answering my unspoken question. Is he psychic as well?
“… Your body gives you away. You’re pressing your thighs together, you’re flushed, and your breathing has changed.”
O, this is too much.
“How do you know about my thighs?” My voice is low, disbelieving. They’re under the table for heaven’s sake.
“I felt the tablecloth move, and it’s a calculated guess based on years of experience. I’m right aren’t I?”
I flush and stare down at my hands. That’s what I’m hindered by in this game of seduction. He’s the only one who knows and understands the rules. I’m just too naïve and inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Kate, and she doesn’t take any shit from men. My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennett would be outraged, Jane Eyre too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have.
“I haven’t finished my cod.”
“You’d prefer cold cod to me?”
My head jerks up to glare at him, and his gray eyes burn molten silver, with compelling need.
“I thought you liked me clearing my plate.”
“Right now, Miss Steele, I couldn’t give a fuck about your food.”
“Christian. You just don’t fight fair.”
“I know. I never have.”
My inner goddess frowns at me. You can do this, she coaxes – play this sex god at his own game. Can I? Okay. What to do? My inexperience is an albatross around my neck. Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.
Christian’s eyes widen infinitesimally, but I notice.
“Anastasia. What are you doing?”
I bite off the tip.
“Eating my asparagus.”
Christian shifts in his seat.
“I think you’re toying with me, Miss Steele.”
I feign innocence.
“I’m just finishing my food, Mr. Grey.”
The waiter chooses this moment to knock and, unbidden, enter. He glances briefly at Christian, who frowns at him but then nods, so the waiter clears our plates. The waiter’s arrival has broken the spell. And I grasp this precious moment of clarity. I have to go. Our meeting will only end one way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense
conversation. As much as my body craves his touch, my mind is rebelling. I need some distance to think about all he’s said. I still haven’t made a decision, and his sexual allure and prowess doesn’t make it any easier.
“Would you like some dessert?” Christian asks, ever the gentleman, but his eyes still blaze.
“No, thank you. I think I should go.” I stare down at my hands.
“Go?” He can’t hide his surprise.
The waiter leaves hastily.
“Yes.” It’s the right decision. If I stay here, in this room with him, he will fuck me. I stand, purposefully. “We both have the graduation ceremony tomorrow.”
Christian stands automatically, revealing years of ingrained civility.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“Please… I have to.”
“Because you’ve given me so much to consider… and I need some distance.”
“I could make you stay,” he threatens.
“Yes, you could easily, but I don’t want you to.”
He runs his hand through his hair, regarding me carefully.
“You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all yes sir, no sir. I thought you were a natural born submissive. But quite frankly, Anastasia, I’m not sure you have a submissive bone in your delectable body.” He moves slowly toward me as his speaks, his voice tense.
“You may be right,” I breathe.
“I want the chance to explore the possibility that you do,” he murmurs, staring down at me. He reaches up and caresses my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “I don’t know any other way, Anastasia. This is who I am.”
“I know.”
He leans down to kiss me, but pauses before his lips touch mine, his eyes searching mine, wanting, asking permission. I raise my lips to his, and he kisses me and because I don’t know if I’ll ever kiss him again, I let go – my hands moving of their own accord and twisting into his hair, pulling him to me, my mouth opening, my tongue stroking his. His hand grasps the nape of my neck as he deepens the kiss, responding to my ardor. His other hand slides down my back and flattens at the base of my spine as he pushes me against his body.
“I can’t persuade you to stay?” he breathes between kisses.
“Spend the night with me.”
“And not touch you? No.”
He groans.
“You impossible girl.” He pulls back, gazing down at me. “Why do I think you’re telling me goodbye?”
“Because I’m leaving now.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Christian, I have to think about this. I don’t know if I can have the kind of relationship you want.”
He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine, giving us both the opportunity to slow our breathing. After a moment, he kisses my forehead, inhales deeply, his nose in my hair, and then he releases me, stepping back.
“As you wish, Miss Steele,” he says, his face impassive. “I’ll escort you to the lobby.” He holds out his hand. Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in his. Holy crap, this could be it. I follow him meekly down the grand stairs and into the lobby, my scalp prickling, my blood pumping. This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no. My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment of clarity can make to a girl.
“Do you have your valet ticket?”
I fish into my clutch purse and hand him the ticket, which he gives to the doorman. I peek up at him as we stand waiting.
“Thank you for dinner,” I murmur.
“It’s a pleasure as always, Miss Steele,” he says politely, though he looks deep in thought, completely distracted.
As I peer up at him, I commit his beautiful profile to memory. The idea that I might not see him again haunts me, unwelcome and too painful to contemplate. He turns suddenly, staring down at me, his expression intense.
“You’re moving this weekend to Seattle. If you make the right decision, can I see you on Sunday?” He sounds hesitant.
“We’ll see. Maybe,” I breathe. Momentarily, he looks relieved, and then he frowns.
“It’s cooler now, don’t you have a jacket?”
He shakes his head in irritation and takes off his jacket.
“Here. I don’t want you catching cold.”
I blink up at him as he holds it open, and as I hold my arms out behind me, I’m reminded of the time in his office when he slipped my coat onto my shoulders – the first time I met him – and the effect he had on me then. Nothing’s changed, in fact, it’s more intense. His jacket is warm, far too big, and it smells of him. Oh my… delicious.
My car pulls up outside. Christian’s mouth drops open.
“That’s what you drive?” He’s appalled. Taking my hand, he leads me outside. The valet jumps out and hands me my keys, and Christian coolly palms him some money.
“Is this roadworthy?” He’s glaring at me now.
“Will it make it to Seattle?”
“Yes. She will.”
“Yes,” I snap, exasperated. “Okay she’s old. But she’s mine, and she’s roadworthy. My stepdad bought it for me.”
“Oh, Anastasia, I think we can do better than this.”
“What do you mean?” Realization dawns. “You are not buying me a car.”
He glowers at me, his jaw tense.
“We’ll see,” he says tightly.
He grimaces as he opens the driver’s door and helps me in. I take my shoes off and roll down the window. He’s gazing at me, his expression unfathomable, eyes dark.
“Drive safely,” he says quietly.
“Goodbye, Christian.” My voice is hoarse from unbidden, unshed tears – jeez I’m not going to cry. I give him a small smile.
As I drive away, my chest constricts, my tears start to fall, and I choke back a sob. Soon tears are streaming down my face, and I really don’t understand why I’m crying. I was holding my own. He explained everything. He was clear. He wants me, but the truth is, I need more. I need him to want me like I want and need him, and deep down I know that’s not possible. I am just overwhelmed.
I don’t even know how to categorize him. If I do this thing… will he be my boyfriend? Will I be able to introduce him to my friends? Go out to bars, the cinema, bowling even, with him? The truth is, I don’t think I will. He won’t let me touch him and he won’t let me sleep with him. I know I’ve not had these things in my past, but I want them in my future. And that’s not the future he envisages.
What if I do say yes, and in three months’ time he says no, he’s had enough of trying to mold me into something I’m not. How will I feel? I’ll have emotionally invested three months, doing things that I’m not sure I want to do. And if he then says no, agreement over, how could I cope with that level of rejection? Perhaps it’s best to back away now with what self-esteem I have reasonably intact.
But the thought of not seeing him again is agonizing. How has he gotten under my skin so quickly? It can’t just be the sex… can it? I dash the tears from my eyes. I don’t want to examine my feelings for him. I’m frightened what I’ll uncover if I do. What am I going to do?
I park up outside our duplex. No lights on. Kate must be out. I’m relieved. I don’t want her to catch me crying again. As I undress, I wake up the mean machine and sitting in my inbox is a message from Christian.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tonight
Date: May 25 2011 22:01
To: Anastasia Steele
I don’t understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your questions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.
Trust me.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
His email makes me weep more. I am not a merger. I am not an acquisition. Reading this, I might as well be. I don’t reply. I just don’t know what to say to him. I fumble into my PJs, and wrapping his jacket around me. I climb into bed. As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.
‘Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.’
‘I don’t do the girlfriend thing.’
‘I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.’
‘I don’t make love.’‘This is all I know.’
And as I weep into my pillow silently, it’s this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 12 (read Online Free)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 12


For the first time in my life, I voluntarily go for a run. I find my nasty, never-used sneakers, some sweat pants, and a t-shirt. I put my hair in pigtails, blushing at the memories they bring back, and I plug in my iPod. I can’t sit in front of that marvel of technology and look at or read any more disturbing material. I need to expend some of this excess, enervating, energy. Quite frankly, I have a mind to run to the Heathman hotel and just demand sex from the control freak. But that’s five miles, and I don’t think I’ll be able to run one mile, let alone five, and of course, he might turn me down which would be beyond humiliating.
Kate is walking from her car as I head out of the door. She nearly drops her shopping when she sees me. Ana Steele in sneakers. I wave and don’t stop for the inquisition. I need some serious alone time. Snow Patrol blaring in my ears, I set off into the opal and aquamarine dusk.
I pace through the park. What am I going to do? I want him, but on his terms? I just don’t know. Perhaps I should negotiate what I want. Go through that ridiculous contract line by line and say what is acceptable and what isn’t. My research has told me that legally it’s unenforceable. He must know that. I figure that it just sets up the parameters of the relationship. It illustrates what I can expect from him and what he expects from me – my total submission. Am I prepared to give him that? Am I even capable?
I am plagued by one question – why is he like this? Is it because he was seduced at such a young age? I just don’t know. He’s still such a mystery.
I stop beside a large spruce and put my hands on my knees, breathing hard, dragging precious air into my lungs. Oh, this feels good, cathartic. I can feel my resolve hardening. Yes. I need to tell him what’s okay and what isn’t. I need to email him my thoughts, and then we can discuss these on Wednesday. I take a deep cleansing breath, then jog back to the apartment.
Kate has been shopping, as only she can, for clothes for her holiday to Barbados. Mainly bikinis and matching sarongs. She will look fabulous in all of them, yet she still makes me sit and comment while she tries on each and every one. There are only so many ways one can say – you look fabulous Kate. She has a curvy, slim figure to die for. She doesn’t do it on purpose, I know, but I haul my sorry, perspiration clad, old t-shirt, sweat pants, and sneakers ass into my room on the pretext of packing more boxes. Could I feel any more inadequate? Taking the awesome free technology with me, I set the laptop up on my desk. I email Christian.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Shocked of WSUV
Date: May 23 2011 20:33
To: Christian Grey
Okay, I’ve seen enough.
It was nice knowing you.
I press send, hugging myself, laughing at my little joke. Will he find it as funny? Oh shit – probably not. Christian Grey is not famed for his sense of humor. But I know it exists, I’ve experienced it. Perhaps I’ve gone too far. I wait for his answer.
I wait… and wait. I glance at my alarm clock. Ten minutes have passed.
To distract myself from the anxiety that blooms in my belly, I start doing what I told Kate I would be doing – packing up my room. I begin by cramming my books into a crate. By nine, I’ve heard nothing. Perhaps he’s out. I pout petulantly as I plug my iPod ear buds in, listen to Snow Patrol, and sit down at my small desk to re-read the contract and make my comments.
I don’t know why I glance up, maybe I catch a slight movement from the corner of my eye, I don’t know, but when I do, he’s standing in the doorway of my bedroom watching me intently. He’s wearing his grey flannel pants and a white linen shirt, gently twirling his car keys. I pull my ear buds out and freeze. Fuck!
“Good evening, Anastasia.” His voice is cool, his expression completely guarded and unreadable. The capacity to speak deserts me. Damn Kate for letting him in here with no warning. Vaguely, I’m aware that I’m still in my sweats, un-showered, yucky, and he’s just gloriously yummy, his pants doing that hanging from the hips thing, and what’s more, he’s here in my bedroom.
“I felt that your email warranted a reply in person,” he explains dryly.
I open my mouth and then close it again, twice. The joke is on me. Never in this or any alternative universe did I expect him to drop everything and turn up here.
“May I sit?” he asks, his eyes now dancing with humor – thank heavens – maybe he’ll see the funny side?
I nod. The power of speech remains elusive. Christian Grey is sitting on my bed.
“I wondered what your bedroom would look like,” he says.
I glance around it, plotting an escape route, no – there’s still only the door or window. My room is functional but cozy – sparse white wicker furniture and a white iron double bed with a patchwork quilt, made by my mother when she was in her folksy American quilting phase. It’s all pale blue and cream.
“It’s very serene and peaceful in here,” he murmurs. Not at the moment… not with you here.
Finally, my medulla oblongata recalls its purpose, I breathe.
“How… ?”
He smiles at me.
“I’m still at the Heathman.”
I know that.
“Would you like a drink?” Politeness wins out over everything else I’d like to say.
“No, thank you, Anastasia.” He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side.
Well, I might need one.
“So, it was nice knowing me?”
Holy cow, is he offended? I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of this? If I tell him it was a joke, I don’t think he’ll be impressed.
“I thought you’d reply by email.” My voice is small, pathetic.
“Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?” he asks darkly.
I blink up at him, gasping, freeing my lip.
“I wasn’t aware I was biting my lip,” I murmur softly.
My heart is pounding. I can feel that pull, that delicious electricity between us charging, filling the space between us with static. He’s sitting so close to me, his eyes dark smoky gray, his elbows resting on his knees, his legs apart. Leaning forward, he slowly undoes one of my pigtails, his fingers freeing my hair. My breathing is shallow, and I cannot move. I watch hypnotized as his hand moves to my second pigtail, and pulling the hair tie, he loosens the braid with his long, skilled fingers.
“So you decided on some exercise,” he breathes, his voice soft and melodious. His fingers gently tuck my hair behind my ear. “Why, Anastasia?” His fingers circle my ear, and very softly, he tugs my earlobe, rhythmically. It’s so sexual.
“I needed time to think,” I whisper. I’m all rabbit/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake… and he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“Think about what, Anastasia?”
“And you decided that it was nice knowing me? Do you mean knowing me in the biblical sense?”
Oh shit. I flush.
“I didn’t think you were familiar with the Bible.”
“I went to Sunday School, Anastasia. It taught me a great deal.”
“I don’t remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation.”
His lips arch with a trace of a smile, and my eyes are drawn to his beautiful sculptured mouth.
“Well, I thought I should come and remind you how nice it was knowing me.”
Holy crap. I stare at him open mouthed, and his fingers move from my ear to my chin.
“What do you say to that, Miss Steele?”
His gray eyes blaze at me, his challenge intrinsic in his stare. His lips are parted – he’s waiting, coiled to strike. Desire – acute, liquid and smoldering, combusts deep in my belly. I take pre-emptive action and launch myself at him. Somehow he moves, I have no idea how, and in the blink of an eye I’m on the bed pinned beneath him, my arms stretched out and held above my head, his free hand clutching my face, and his mouth finds mine.
His tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing me, and I revel in the force he uses. I feel him against the length of my body. He wants me, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Kate in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. Me. This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland. He stops kissing me, and opening my eyes, I find him gazing down at me.
“Trust me?” he breathes.
I nod, wide-eyed, my heart bouncing off my ribs, my blood thundering around my body.
He reaches down, and from his pants pocket, he takes out his silver grey silk tie… that silver grey woven tie that leaves small impressions of its weave on my skin. He moves so quickly, sitting astride me as he fastens my wrists together, but this time, he ties the other end of the tie to one of the spokes of my white iron headboard. He pulls at my binding checking it’s secure. I’m not going anywhere. I’m tied, literally, to my bed, and I’m so aroused.
He slides off me and stands beside the bed, staring down at me, his eyes dark with want. His look is triumphant, mixed with relief.
“That’s better,” he murmurs and smiles a wicked, knowing smile. He bends and starts undoing one of my sneakers. Oh no… no… my feet. No. I’ve just been running.
“No,” I protest, trying to kick him off.
He stops.
“If you struggle, I’ll tie your feet too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you. Keep quiet. Katherine is probably outside listening right now.”
Gag me! Kate! I shut up.
He removes my shoes and my socks efficiently and slowly peels off my sweat pants. Oh – what panties am I wearing? He lifts me and pulls the quilt and my duvet out from underneath me and places me back down, this time on the sheets.
“Now then.” He licks his bottom lip slowly. “You’re biting that lip, Anastasia. You know the effect it has on me.” He places his long index finger over my mouth, a warning.
Oh my. I can barely contain myself, lying helpless, watching him move gracefully around my room, it’s a heady aphrodisiac. Slowly, almost leisurely, he removes his shoes and socks, undoes his pants, and lifts his shirt off over his head.
“I think you’ve seen too much,” he chuckles slyly. He sits astride me again, pulls my t-shirt up, and I think he’s going to take it off me, but he rolls it up to my neck and then pulls it up over my head so he can see my mouth and my nose, but it covers my eyes. And because it’s folded over – I cannot see a thing through it.
“Mmm,” he breathes appreciatively. “This just gets better and better. I’m going to get a drink.”
Leaning down, he kisses me, his lips tender against mine, and his weight shifts off the bed. I hear the quiet creak of the bedroom door. Get a drink. Where? Here? Portland? Seattle? I strain to hear him. I can make out low rumblings, and I know he’s talking to Kate – oh no… he’s practically naked. What’s she going to say? I hear a faint popping sound. What’s that? He returns, the door creaking once more, his feet padding across the bedroom floor, and ice tinkling against glass as it swirls in liquid. What kind of drink? He shuts the door and shuffles around removing his pants. They drop to the floor, and I know he’s naked. He sits astride me again.
“Are you thirsty, Anastasia?” he asks, his voice teasing
“Yes,” I breathe, because my mouth is suddenly parched. I hear the ice clink against the glass, and he puts it down again and leans down and kisses me, pouring a delicious crisp, liquid into my mouth as he does. It’s white wine. It’s so unexpected, hot, though it’s chilled, and Christian’s lips are cool.
“More?” he whispers.
I nod. It tastes all the more divine because it’s been in his mouth. He leans down, and I drink another mouthful from his lips… oh my.
“Let’s not go too far, we know your capacity for alcohol is limited, Anastasia.”
I can’t help it. I grin, and he leans down to deliver another delicious mouthful. He shifts so he’s lying beside me, his erection at my hip. Oh, I want him inside me.
“Is this nice?” he asks, but I hear the edge in his voice.
I tense. He moves the glass again and leans down, kissing me and depositing a small shard of ice in my mouth with a little wine. He slowly and leisurely trails chilled kisses down the center of my body, from the base of my throat, between my breasts, down my torso, and to my belly. He pops a fragment of ice in my navel in a pool of cool, cold wine. It burns all the way down to the depths of my belly. Wow.
“Now you have to keep still,” he whispers. “If you move, Anastasia, you’ll get wine all over the bed.”
My hips flex automatically.
“Oh no. If you spill the wine, I will punish you, Miss Steele.”
I groan and desperately fight the urge to tilt my hips, pulling on my restraint. Oh no… please.
With one finger, he pulls down my bra cups in turn, my breasts pushed up, exposed and vulnerable. Leaning down, he kisses and tugs at each of my nipples in turn with cool, cold lips. I fight my body as it tries to arch in response.
“How nice is this?” he breathes, blowing on one of my nipples.
I hear another clink of ice, and then I can feel it round my right nipple as he tugs the left one with his lips. I moan, struggling not to move. It’s sweet, agonizing torture.
“If you spill the wine, I won’t let you come,”
“Oh… please… Christian… Sir… Please.” He’s driving me insane. I hear him smile.
The ice in my navel is melting. I am beyond warm – warm and chilled and wanting. Wanting him, inside me. Now.
His cool fingers trail languidly across my belly. My skin is oversensitive, my hips flex automatically, and the now warmer liquid from my navel seeps over my belly. Christian moves quickly, lapping it up with his tongue, kissing, biting me softly, sucking.
“Oh dear, Anastasia, you moved. What am I going to do to you?”
I’m panting loudly. All I can concentrate on is his voice and his touch. Nothing else is real. Nothing else matters, nothing else registers on my radar. His fingers slip into my panties, and I’m rewarded with his unguarded sharp intake of air.
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs and he pushes two fingers inside me.
I gasp.
“Ready for me so soon,” he says. He moves his fingers tantalizingly slowly, in, out, and I push against him, tilting my hips up.
“You are a greedy girl,” he scolds softly, and his thumb circles my clitoris and then presses down.
I groan loudly as my body bucks beneath his expert fingers. He reaches up and pushes the t-shirt over my head so I can see him as I blink in the soft light of my sidelight. I long to touch him.
“I want to touch you,” I breathe.
“I know,” he murmurs. He leans down and kisses me, his fingers still moving rhythmically inside me, his thumb circling and pressing. His other hand scoops my hair off my head and holds my head in place. His tongue mirrors the actions of his fingers, claiming me. My legs begin to stiffen as I push against his hand. He gentles his hand, so I’m brought back from the brink. He does this again and again. It’s so frustrating… Oh please Christian, I scream in my head.
“This is your punishment, so close and yet so far. Is this nice?” he breathes in my ear. I whimper, exhausted, pulling against my restraint. I’m helpless, lost in an erotic torment.
“Please,” I beg, and he finally takes pity on me.
“How shall I fuck you, Anastasia?”
Oh… my body starts to quiver. He stills again.
“What do you want, Anastasia?”
“You… now,” I cry.
“Shall I fuck you this way, or this way, or this way? There’s an endless choice,” he breathes against my lips. He withdraws his hand and reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. He kneels up between my legs, and very slowly he pulls my panties off, staring down at me, his eyes gleaming. He puts on the condom. I watch fascinated, mesmerized.
“How nice is this?” he says as he strokes himself.
“I meant it as a joke,” I whimper. Please fuck me, Christian.
He raises his eyebrows as his hand moves up and down his impressive length.
“A joke?” His voice is menacingly soft.
“Yes. Please, Christian,” I beseech him.
“Are you laughing now?”
“No,” I mewl.
I am just one ball of sexual, tense, need. He stares down at me for a moment, measuring my need, then he grabs me suddenly and flips me over. It takes me by surprise, and because my hands are tied, I have to support myself on my elbows. He pushes both my knees up the bed so my behind is in the air, and he slaps me hard. Before I can react, he plunges inside me. I cry out – from the slap and from his sudden assault, and I come instantly again and again, falling apart beneath him as he continues to slam deliciously into me. He doesn’t stop. I’m spent. I can’t take this… and he pounds on and on and on… then I’m building again… surely not… no…
“Come on, Anastasia, again,” he growls through clenched teeth, and unbelievably, my body responds, convulsing around him as I climax anew, calling out his name. I shatter again into tiny fragments, and Christian stills, finally letting go, silently finding his release. He collapses on top of me, breathing hard.
“How nice was that?” he asks through his gritted teeth.
Oh my.
I lie panting and spent on the bed, eyes closed as he slowly pulls out of me. He rises immediately and dresses. When he’s fully clothed, he climbs back on the bed and gently undoes his tie and pulls my t-shirt off. I flex my fingers and rub my wrists, smiling at the woven pattern imprinted on my wrists from the tie. I re-adjust my bra as he pulls the duvet and quilt over me. I stare up at him completely dazed, and he smirks down at me.
“That was really nice,” I whisper, smiling coyly.
“There’s that word again.”
“You don’t like that word?”
“No. It doesn’t do it for me at all.”
“Oh – I don’t know… it seems to have a very beneficial effect on you.”
“I’m a beneficial effect, now am I? Could you wound my ego any further, Miss Steele?”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your ego.” But even as I say it, I don’t feel the conviction of my words – something elusive crosses my mind, a fleeting thought, but it’s lost before I can grasp it.
“You think?” His voice is soft. He’s lying beside me, fully clothed, his head propped up on his elbow, and I am only wearing my bra.
“Why don’t you like to be touched?”
“I just don’t.” He reaches over and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. “So, that email was your idea of a joke.”
I smile apologetically at him and shrug.
“I see. So you are still considering my proposition?”
“Your indecent proposal… yes I am. I have issues though.”
He grins down at me as if relieved.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
“I was going to email them to you, but you kind of interrupted me.”
“Coitus Interruptus.”
“See, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere in there.” I smile.
“Only certain things are funny, Anastasia. I thought you were saying no, no discussion at all.” His voice drops.
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t made up my mind. Will you collar me?”
He raises his eyebrows.
“You have been doing your research. I don’t know, Anastasia. I’ve never collared anyone.”
Oh… should I be surprised by this? I know so little about the scene… I don’t know.
“Were you collared?” I whisper.
“By Mrs. Robinson?”
“Mrs. Robinson!” he laughs loudly, freely, and he looks so young and carefree, his head thrown back, his laughter infectious.
I grin back at him.
“I’ll tell her you said that, she’ll love it.”
“You still talk to her regularly?” I can’t keep the shock out of my voice.
“Yes.” He’s serious now.
Oh… and part of me is suddenly insanely jealous – I’m disturbed by the depth of my feeling.
“I see.” My voice is tight. “So you have someone you can discuss your alternative lifestyle with, but I’m not allowed.”
He frowns.
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it like that. Mrs. Robinson was part of that lifestyle. I told you, she’s a good friend now. If you’d like, I can introduce you to one of my former subs, you could talk to her.”
What? Is he deliberately trying to upset me?
“Is this your idea of a joke?
“No, Anastasia.” He’s bemused as he shakes his head earnestly.
“No – I’ll do this on my own, thank you very much,” I snap at him, pulling the duvet up to my chin.
He stares at me, at sea, surprised.
“Anastasia, I… ” He’s lost for words. A first, I think. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended. I’m appalled.”
“I don’t want to talk to one of your ex-girlfriends… slave… sub… whatever you call them.”
“Anastasia Steele – are you jealous?”
I flush, crimson.
“Are you staying?”
“I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow at the Heathman. Besides, I told you, I don’t sleep with girlfriends, slaves, subs, or anyone. Friday and Saturday night were exceptions. It won’t happen again.” I can hear the resolve behind his soft, husky voice.
I purse my lips at him.
“Well I’m tired now.”
“Are you kicking me out?” He raises his eyebrows at me, amused and a little dismayed.
“Well that’s another first.” He eyes me speculatively. “So nothing you want to discuss now? About the contract.”
“No.” I reply petulantly.
“God, I’d like to give you a good hiding. You’d feel a lot better, and so would I.”
“You can’t say things like that… I haven’t signed anything yet.”
“A man can dream, Anastasia.” He leans over me and grasps my chin. “Wednesday?” he murmurs, and he kisses me lightly on my lips.
“Wednesday,” I agree. “I’ll see you out. If you give me a minute.” I sit up and grab my t-shirt, pushing him out of the way. Amused and reluctant, he gets up off the bed.
“Please pass me my sweat pants.”
He collects them from the floor and hands them to me.
“Yes, ma’am.” He’s trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.
I narrow my eyes at him as I slip the pants on. My hair is a state, and I know I’ll have to face the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition after he’s gone. Grabbing a hair tie, I walk to my bedroom door, opening it slightly checking for Kate. She is not in the living area. I think I can hear her on the phone in her room. Christian follows me out. During the short walk from bedroom to front door, my thoughts and feelings ebb and flow, transforming. I’m no longer angry with him, I feel suddenly unbearably shy. I don’t want him to go. For the first time, I’m wishing he was – normal – wanting a normal relationship that doesn’t need a ten-page agreement, a flogger, and karabiners in his playroom ceiling.
I open the door for him and stare down at my hands. This is the first time I have ever had sex in my home, and as sex goes, I think it was pretty damn fine. But now I feel like a receptacle – an empty vessel to be filled at his whim. My subconscious shakes her head. You wanted to run to the Heathman for sex – you had it express-delivered. She crosses her arms and taps her foot with a what-are-you-complaining-about-look on her face. Christian stops in the doorway and clasps my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. His brow creases slightly.
“You okay?” he asks tenderly as his thumb lightly caresses my bottom lip.
“Yes.” I reply, though in all honesty I’m just not sure. I feel a paradigm shift. I know that if I do this thing with him, I will get hurt. He’s not capable, interested, or willing to offer me any more… and I want more. Much more. The surge of jealousy I felt only moments ago tells me that I have deeper feelings for him than I have admitted to myself.
“Wednesday,” he confirms, and he leans forward and kisses me softly. Something changes while he’s kissing me, his lips grow more urgent against mine, his hand moves up from my chin and he’s holding the side of my head, his other hand on the other side. His breathing accelerates. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me. I put my hands on his arms. I want to run them through his hair, but I resist, knowing that he won’t like it. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his voice strained.
“Anastasia,” he whispers. “What are you doing to me?”
“I could say the same to you,” I whisper back.
Taking a deep breath, he kisses my forehead and leaves. He strolls purposefully down the path towards his car as he runs his hand through his hair. Glancing up as he opens
his car door, he smiles his breathtaking smile. My answering smile is weak, completely dazzled by him, and I’m reminded once more of Icarus soaring too close to the Sun. I close the front door as he climbs into his sporty car. I have an overwhelming urge to cry, a sad and lonely melancholy grips and tightens round my heart. Dashing back to my bedroom, I close the door and lean against it trying to rationalize my feelings. I can’t. Sliding to the floor, I put my head in my hands as my tears begin to flow.
Kate knocks gently.
“Ana?” she whispers. I open the door. She takes one look at me and throws her arms around me.
“What’s wrong? What did that creepy good-looking bastard do?”
“Oh Kate, nothing I didn’t want him to.”
She pulls me to my bed and we sit.
“You have dreadful sex hair.”
In spite of my poignant sadness, I laugh.
“It was good sex, not dreadful at all.”
Kate smiles.
“That’s better. Why are you crying? You never cry.” She retrieves my brush from the side table, and sitting behind me, very slowly starts brushing out the knots.
“I just don’t think our relationship is going to go anywhere.” I stare down at my fingers.
“I thought you said you were going to see him on Wednesday?”
“I am, that was our original plan.”
“So, why did he turn up here today?”
“I sent him an email.”
“Asking him to drop by?”
“No, saying I didn’t want to see him anymore.”
“And he turns up? Ana, that’s genius.”
“Actually it was a joke.”
“Oh. Now I’m really confused.”
Patiently, I explain the essence of my email without giving anything away.
“So you thought he’d reply by email.”
“But instead he turns up here.”
“I’d say he’s completely smitten with you.”
I frown. Christian, smitten with me? Hardly. He’s just looking for a new toy – a convenient new toy that he can bed and do unspeakable things to. My heart tightens painfully. This is the reality.
“He came here to fuck me, that’s all.”
“Who said romance was dead?” she whispers horrified. I’ve shocked Kate. I didn’t think that was possible. I shrug apologetically.
“He uses sex as a weapon.”
“Fuck you into submission?” She shakes her head disapprovingly. I blink rapidly at her, and I can feel the blush as it spreads across my face. Oh… spot on, Katherine Kavanagh, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist.
“Ana, I don’t understand, you just let him make love to you?”
“No, Kate, we don’t make love – we fuck – Christian’s terminology. He doesn’t do the love thing.”
“I knew there was something weird about him. He has commitment issues.”
I nod, as if in agreement. Inwardly, I pine. Oh Kate… I wish I could tell you everything, everything about this strange, sad, kinky guy, and you could tell me to forget about him. Stop me from being a fool.
“I guess it’s all a little overwhelming,” I murmur. That’s the understatement of the year.
Because I don’t want to talk about Christian any more, I ask her about Elliot. Katherine’s whole demeanor changes at the mere mention of his name, she lights up from within, beaming at me.
“He’s coming over early Saturday to help load up.” She hugs the hairbrush, boy has she got it bad, and I feel a familiar faint stab of envy. Kate has found herself a normal man, and she looks so happy.
I turn and hug her.
“Oh, I meant to say. Your dad called while you were… err, occupied. Apparently Bob has sustained some injury, so your mom and he can’t make graduation. But your dad will be here Thursday. He wants you to call.”
“Oh… my mom never called me. Is Bob okay?”
“Yes. Call her in the morning. It’s late now.”
“Thanks, Kate. I’m okay now. I’ll call Ray in the morning too. I think I’ll just turn in.”
She smiles, but her eyes crinkle at the corners with concern.
After she’s gone, I sit and read the contract again, making more notes as I go. When I’ve finished, I fire up the laptop, ready to respond.
There’s an email from Christian in my inbox.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: This evening
Date: May 23 2011 23:16
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss SteeleI look forward to receiving your notes on the contract.
Until then, sleep well baby.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Issues
Date: May 24 2011 00:02
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. GreyHere is my list of issues. I look forward to discussing them more fully at dinner on Wednesday.
The numbers refer to clauses:
2: Not sure why this is solely for MY benefit – ie to explore MY sensuality and limits. I’m sure I wouldn’t need a ten-page contract to do that! Surely this is for YOUR benefit.
4: As you are aware you are my only sexual partner. I don’t take drugs, and I’ve not had any blood transfusions. I’m probably safe. What about you?
8: I can terminate at any time if I don’t think you’re sticking to the agreed limits. Okay – I like this.
9: Obey you in all things? Accept without hesitation your discipline? We need to talk about this.
11: One month trial period. Not three.
12: I cannot commit every weekend. I do have a life, or will have. Perhaps three out of four?
15.2: Using my body as you see fit sexually or otherwise – please define “or otherwise.”
15.5: This whole discipline clause. I’m not sure I want to be whipped, flogged, or corporally punished. I am sure this would be in breach of clauses 2-5. And also “for any other reason”. That’s just mean – and you told me you weren’t a sadist.
15.10: Like loaning me out to someone else would ever be an option. But I’m glad it’s here in black and white.
15.14: The Rules. More on those later.
15.19: Touching myself without your permission. What’s the problem with this? You know I don’t do it anyway.
15.21: Discipline – Please see clause 15.5 above.
15.22: I can’t look into your eyes? Why?
15.24: Why can’t I touch you?
Sleep – I’ll agree to 6 hours. Food – I am not eating food from a prescribed list. The food list goes or I do – Deal breaker. Clothes – as long as I only have to wear your clothes when I’m with you… okay. Exercise – We agreed 3 hours, this still says 4.
Soft Limits:
Can we go through all of these? No Fisting of any kind. What is suspension? Genital Clamps – you have got to be kidding me.
Can you please let me know the arrangements for Wednesday? I am working until 5pm that day.
Good night.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: This evening
Date: May 24 2011 00:07
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele
That’s a long list. Why are you still up?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Burning the midnight oil
Date: May 24 2011 00:10
To: Christian Grey
If you recall I was going through this list, when I was distracted and bedded by a passing control freak.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Stop Burning the midnight oil
Date: May 24 2011 00:12
To: Anastasia Steele
Christian Grey
CEO & Control Freak, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Oh… shouty capitals! I switch off. How can he intimidate me when he’s six miles away? I shake my head. My heart still heavy, I climb into bed and fall instantly into a deep but troubled sleep.

Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 11 (Read Online Free)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 11


There are several papers inside the envelope. I fish them out, my heart still pounding, and I sit back on my bed and begin to read.
Made this day_________ of 2011 (“The Commencement Date”)
MR. CHRISTIAN GREY of 301 Escala, Seattle, WA 98889
(“The Dominant”)
MISS ANASTASIA STEELE of 1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven Heights, Vancouver, WA 98888
(“The Submissive”)
1 The following are the terms of a binding contract between the Dominant and the Submissive.
2 The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the Submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits and her wellbeing.
3 The Dominant and the Submissive agree and acknowledge that all that occurs under the terms of this contract will be consensual, confidential, and subject to the agreed limits and safety procedures set out in this contract. Additional limits and safety procedures may be agreed in writing.
4 The Dominant and the Submissive each warrant that they suffer from no sexual, serious, infectious or life-threatening illnesses including but not limited to HIV, Herpes and Hepatitis. If during the Term (as defined below) or any extended term of this contract either party should be diagnosed with or become aware of any such illness he or she undertakes to inform the other immediately and in any event prior to any form of physical contact between the parties.
5 Adherence to the above warranties, agreements and undertakings (and any additional limits and safety procedures agreed under clause 3 above) are fundamental to this contract. Any breach shall render it void with immediate effect and each party agrees to be fully responsible to the other for the consequence of any breach.
6 Everything in this contract must be read and interpreted in the light of the fundamental purpose and the fundamental terms set out in clauses 2-5 above.
7 The Dominant shall take responsibility for the wellbeing and the proper training, guidance, and discipline of the Submissive. He shall decide the nature of such training, guidance, and discipline and the time and place of its administration, subject to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above.
8 If at any time the Dominant should fail to keep to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above the Submissive is entitled to terminate this contract forthwith and to leave the service of the Dominant without notice.
9 Subject to that proviso and to clauses 2-5 above the Submissive is to serve and obey the Dominant in all things. Subject to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above she shall without query or hesitation offer the Dominant such pleasure as he may require and she shall accept without query or hesitation his training, guidance and discipline in whatever form it may take.
10 The Dominant and Submissive enter into this contract on The Commencement Date fully aware of its nature and undertake to abide by its conditions without exception.
11 This contract shall be effective for a period of three Calendar Months from The Commencement Date (“The Term”). On the expiry of The Term the parties shall discuss whether this contract and the arrangements they have made under this contract are satisfactory and whether the needs of each party have been met. Either party may propose the extension of this contract subject to adjustments to its terms, or to the arrangements they have made under it. In the absence of agreement to such extension this contract shall terminate and both parties shall be free to resume their lives separately.
12 The Submissive will make herself available to the Dominant from Friday evenings through to Sunday afternoons each week during the Term at times to be specified by the Dominant (“the Allotted Times”). Further allocated time can be mutually agreed on an ad hoc basis.
13 The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The Submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant subject only to the Submissive’s rights under clauses 2-5 and 8 above.
14 The Submissive will make herself available during the Allotted Times and agreed additional times at locations to be determined by the Dominant. The Dominant will ensure that all travel costs incurred by the Submissive for that purpose are met by the Dominant.
15 The following service provisions have been discussed and agreed and will be adhered to by both parties during the Term. Both parties accept that certain matters may arise which are not covered by the terms of this contract or the service provisions, or that certain matters may be renegotiated. In such circumstance further clauses may be proposed by way of amendment. Any further clauses or amendments must be agreed, documented and signed by both parties and shall be subject to the fundamental terms set out at clauses 2-5 above.
15.1 The Dominant shall make the Submissive’s health and safety a priority at all times. The Dominant shall not at any time require, request, allow or demand the Submissive to participate at the hands of the Dominant in the activities detailed in Appendix 2 or in any act that either party deems to be unsafe. The Dominant will not undertake or permit to be undertaken any action which could cause serious injury or any risk to the Submissive’s life. The remaining sub-clauses of this clause 15 are to be read subject to this proviso and to the fundamental matters agreed in clauses 2-5 above.
15.2 The Dominant accepts the Submissive as his, to own, control, dominate and discipline during the Term. The Dominant may use the Submissive’s body at any time during the Allotted Times or any agreed additional times in any manner he deems fit, sexually or otherwise.
15.3 The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with all necessary training and guidance in how to properly serve the Dominant.
15.4 The Dominant shall maintain a stable and safe environment in which the Submissive may perform her duties in service of the Dominant.
15.5 The Dominant may discipline the Submissive as necessary to ensure the Submissive fully appreciates her role of subservience to the Dominant and to discourage unacceptable conduct. The Dominant may flog, spank, whip or corporally punish the Submissive as he sees fit, for purposes of discipline, for his own personal enjoyment, or for any other reason, which he is not obliged to provide.
15.6 In training and in the administration of discipline the Dominant shall ensure that no permanent marks are made upon the Submissive’s body nor any injuries incurred that may require medical attention.
15.7 In training and in the administration of discipline the Dominant shall ensure that the discipline and the instruments used for the purposes of discipline are safe, shall not be used in such a way as to cause serious harm and shall not in any way exceed the limits defined and detailed in this contract.
15.8 In case of illness or injury the Dominant shall care for the Submissive, seeing to her health and safety, encouraging and when necessary ordering medical attention when it is judged necessary by the Dominant.
15.9 The Dominant shall maintain his own good health and seek medical attention when necessary in order to maintain a risk-free environment
15.10 The Dominant shall not loan his Submissive to another Dominant.
15.11 The Dominant may restrain, handcuff, or bind the Submissive at any time during the Allotted Times or any agreed additional times for any reason and for extended periods of time, giving due regard to the health and safety of the Submissive.
15.12 The Dominant will ensure that all equipment used for the purposes of training and discipline shall be maintained in a clean, hygienic and safe state at all times.
15.13 The Submissive accepts the Dominant as her master, with the understanding that she is now the property of the Dominant, to be dealt with as the Dominant pleases during the Term generally but specifically during the Allotted Times and any additional agreed allotted times.
15.14 The Submissive shall obey the rules (“the Rules”) set out in Appendix 1 to this agreement.
15.15 The Submissive shall serve the Dominant in any way the Dominant sees fit and shall endeavor to please the Dominant at all times to the best of her ability.
15.16 The Submissive shall take all measures necessary to maintain her good health and shall request or seek medical attention whenever it is needed, keeping the Dominant informed at all times of any health issues that may arise.
15.17 The Submissive will ensure that she procures oral contraception and ensure that she takes it as and when prescribed to prevent any pregnancy.
15.18 The Submissive shall accept without question any and all disciplinary actions deemed necessary by the Dominant and remember her status and role in regard to the Dominant at all times.
15.19 The Submissive shall not touch or pleasure herself sexually without permission from the Dominant.
15.20 The Submissive shall submit to any sexual activity demanded by the Dominant and shall do without hesitation or argument.
15.21 The Submissive shall accept whippings, floggings, spankings, caning, paddling or any other discipline the Dominant should decide to administer, without hesitation, enquiry or complaint.
15.22 The Submissive shall not look directly into the eyes of the Dominant except when specifically instructed to do so. The Submissive shall keep her eyes cast down and maintain a quiet and respectful bearing in the presence of the Dominant.
15.23 The Submissive shall always conduct herself in a respectful manner to the Dominant and shall address him only as Sir, Mr. Grey, or such other title as the Dominant may direct.
15.24 The Submissive will not touch the Dominant without his express permission to do so.
16 The Submissive shall not participate in activities or any sexual acts that either party deems to be unsafe or any activities detailed in Appendix 2.
17 The Dominant and the Submissive have discussed the activities set out in Appendix 3 and recorded in writing on Appendix 3 their agreement in respect of them.
18 The Dominant and the Submissive recognize that the Dominant may make demands of the Submissive that cannot be met without incurring physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, or other harm at the time the demands are made to the Submissive. In such circumstances related to this, the Submissive may make use of a safeword (“The Safeword (s)”). Two Safewords will be invoked depending on the severity of the demands.
19 The Safeword “Yellow” will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the Submissive is close to her limit of endurance.
20 The Safeword “Red” will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the Submissive cannot tolerate any further demands. When this word is said the Dominant’s action will cease completely with immediate effect.
21 We the undersigned have read and understood fully the provisions of this contract. We freely accept the terms of this contract and have acknowledged this by our signatures below.
The Dominant: Christian Grey
The Submissive: Anastasia Steele
The Submissive will obey any instructions given by the Dominant immediately without hesitation or reservation and in an expeditious manner. The Submissive will agree to any sexual activity deemed fit and pleasurable by the Dominant excepting those activities which are outlined in hard limits (Appendix 2). She will do so eagerly and without hesitation.
The Submissive will ensure she achieves a minimum of eight hours sleep a night when she is not with the Dominant.
The Submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and wellbeing from a prescribed list of foods (Appendix 4). The Submissive will not snack between meals, with the exception of fruit.
During the Term the Submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant. The Dominant will provide a clothing budget for the Submissive, which the Submissive shall utilize. The Dominant shall accompany the Submissive to purchase clothing on an ad hoc basis. If the Dominant so requires the Submissive shall during the Term wear adornments the Dominant shall require, in the presence of the Dominant and any other time the Dominant deems fit.
The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with a personal trainer four times a week in hour-long sessions at times to be mutually agreed between the personal trainer and the Submissive. The personal trainer will report to the Dominant on the Submissive’s progress.
Personal Hygiene/Beauty:
The Submissive will keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times. The Submissive will visit a beauty salon of the Dominant’s choosing at times to be decided by the Dominant, and undergo whatever treatments the Dominant sees fit. All costs will be met by the Dominant.
Personal Safety:
The Submissive will not drink to excess, smoke, take recreational drugs or put herself in any unnecessary danger.
Personal Qualities:
The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant. The Submissive will conduct herself in a respectful and modest manner at all times. She must recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on the Dominant. She shall be held accountable for any misdeeds, wrongdoings and misbehavior committed when not in the presence of the Dominant.
Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Dominant.
Hard Limits
No acts involving fire play
No acts involving urination or defecation and the products thereof
No acts involving needles, knives, cutting, piercing, or blood
No acts involving gynecological medical instruments
No acts involving children or animals
No acts that will leave any permanent marks on the skin
No acts involving breath control.
No activity that involves the direct contact of electric current (whether alternating or direct), fire or flames to the body.
Soft Limits
To be discussed and agreed between both parties:
Which of the following sexual acts are acceptable to the Submissive?
• Masturbation
• Fellatio
• Cunnilingus
• Vaginal intercourse
• Vaginal fisting
• Anal intercourse
• Anal fisting
Is swallowing semen acceptable to the Submissive?
Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?
• Vibrators
• Dildos
• Butt Plugs
• Other
Is Bondage acceptable to the Submissive?
• Hands in front
• Hands behind back
• Ankles
• Knees
• Elbows
• Wrists to ankles
• Spreader bars
• Tied to furniture
• Blindfolding
• Gagging
• Bondage with Rope
• Bondage with Tape
• Bondage with leather cuffs
• Suspension
• Bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints
What is the Submissive’s general attitude about receiving pain? Where 1 is likes intensely and 5 is dislikes intensely: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5
How much pain does the submissive want to receive? Where 1 is none and 5 is severe: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5
Which of the following types of pain/punishment/discipline are acceptable to the Submissive?
• Spanking
• Paddling
• Whipping
• Caning
• Biting
• Nipple clamps
• Genital clamps
• Ice
• Hot wax
• Other types/methods of pain
Holy Fuck. I can’t bring myself to even consider the food list. I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and read it again.
My head is buzzing. How can I possibly agree to all this? And apparently it’s for my benefit, to explore my sensuality, my limits – safely – oh please! I scoff angrily. Serve and obey in all things. All Things! I shake my head in disbelief. Actually, doesn’t the marriage ceremony use those words… obey? This throws me. Do couples still say that? Only three months, is that why there have been so many? He doesn’t keep them for long? Or have they had enough after three months? Every weekend? That’s too much. I’ll never see Kate or whatever friends I may make at my new job – provided I get one. Perhaps I should have one weekend a month to myself. Perhaps when I have my period, that sounds… practical. He’s my master! To be dealt with as he pleases! Holy shit.
I shudder at the thought of being flogged or whipped. Spanking probably wouldn’t be so bad, humiliating though. And tied up? Well he did tie my hands together. That was… well it was hot, really hot, so perhaps that won’t be so bad. He won’t loan me to another Dominant – damn right he won’t. That would be totally unacceptable. Why am I even thinking about this?
I can’t look him in the eye. How weird is that? The only way I ever have any chance to see what he’s thinking. Actually, whom am I kidding, I never know what he’s thinking, but I like looking into his eyes. He has beautiful eyes – captivating, intelligent, deep and dark, dark with dominant secrets. I recall his burning smoky gaze and press my thighs together, squirming.
And I can’t touch him. Well, no surprise there. And these silly rules… No, no I can’t do this. I put my head in my hands. This is no way to have a relationship. I need some sleep. I’m shattered. All the physical shenanigans I’ve been engaged in over the last twenty-four hours have been, frankly, exhausting. And mentally… oh man, this is so much
to take on board. As José would say, a real mind-fuck. Perhaps in the morning, this might not read like a bad joke.
I scramble up and change quickly. Perhaps I should borrow Kate’s pink flannel pajamas. I want something cuddly and reassuring around me. I head to the bathroom in my t-shirt and sleep shorts and brush my teeth.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. You can’t seriously be considering this… My subconscious sounds sane and rational, not her usual snarky self. My inner goddess is jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a five-year-old. Please, let’s do this… otherwise we’ll end up alone with lots of cats and your classic novels to keep you company.
The only man I’ve ever been attracted to, and he comes with a bloody contract, a flogger, and a whole world of issues. Well, at least I got my way this weekend. My inner goddess stops jumping and smiles serenely. Oh yes… she mouths, nodding at me smugly. I flush at the memory of his hands and his mouth on me, his body inside mine. Closing my eyes, I feel the familiar delicious pull of my muscles from deep, deep down. I want to do that again and again. Maybe if I just sign up for the sex… would he go with that? I suspect not.
Am I submissive? Maybe I come across that way. Maybe I misled him in the interview. I’m shy, yes… but submissive? I let Kate bully me – is that the same? And those soft limits, jeez. My mind boggles, but I’m reassured that they are up for discussion.
I wander back to my bedroom. This is too much to think about. I need a clear head – a fresh morning approach to the problem. I put the offending documents back in my satchel. Tomorrow… tomorrow is another day. Clambering into bed, I switch off the light and lie staring up at the ceiling. Oh, I wish I’d never met him. My inner goddess shakes her head at me. She and I know it’s a lie. I have never felt as alive as I do now.
I close my eyes, and I drift into a heavy sleep with occasional dreams of four-poster beds and shackles and intense gray eyes.
Kate wakes me the next day.
“Ana, I’ve been calling you. You must have been out cold.”
My eyes reluctantly open. She’s not just up – she’s been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It’s eight in the morning. Holy Moses, I’ve slept for a solid nine hours.
“What is it?” I mumble sleepily.
“There’s a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it.”
“Come on. It’s big. It looks interesting.” She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living area. I clamber out of bed and grab my dressing gown hanging on the back of my door. A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box.
“Hi,” I mumble.
“I’ll make you some tea.” Kate scuttles off to the kitchen.
“Miss Steele?”
And I immediately know whom the parcel is from.
“Yes,” I answer cautiously.
“I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it.”
“Really? At this time?”
“Only following orders, ma’am.” He smiles in a charming but professional he’s-not-taking-any-crap way.
Did he just call me ma’am? Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it’s that contract. My mouth puckers in disgust.
“Okay, what is it?”
“It’s a MacBook Pro.”
“Of course it is.” I roll my eyes.
“These aren’t available in the shops yet, ma’am, the very latest from Apple.”
How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily.
“Just set it up on the dining table over there.”
I wander into the kitchen to join Kate.
“What is it?” she says inquisitive, bright eyed and bushy tailed. She’s slept well too.
“It’s a laptop from Christian.”
“Why’s he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine,” she frowns.
Not for what he has in mind.
“Oh, it’s only on loan. He wanted me to try it out.” My excuse sounds feeble. But Kate nods her assent. Oh my… I have hoodwinked Katherine Kavanagh. A first. She hands me my tea.
The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen. Christian Grey likes scale – I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.
“It’s got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you’ll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM – what are you planning to use it for?
“Uh… email.”
“Email!” he chokes, bemused, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.
“And maybe Internet research?” I shrug apologetically.
He sighs.
“Well, this has full wireless N, and I’ve set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet.” He looks longingly at it.
“Me account?”
“Your new email address.”
I have an email address?
He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me but it’s like white noise. I haven’t got a clue what he’s saying, and in all honestly, I’m not interested. Just tell me how to switch it on and off – I’ll figure out the rest. After all, I’ve been using Kate’s for four years. Kate whistles, impressed when she sees it.
“This is next-generation tech.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry,” she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.
I scowl at her but can’t keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.
As Kate shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea, open the email program, and sitting there waiting for me is an email from Christian. My heart leaps into my mouth. I have an email from Christian Grey. Nervously, I open it.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer
Date: May 22 2011 23:15
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed.
I look forward to dinner, Wednesday.
Happy to answer any questions before then, via email, should you so desire.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I hit reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:20
To: Christian Grey
I slept very well thank you – for some strange reason – Sir.
I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine.
Almost instantaneously there is a response.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:22
To: Anastasia Steele
The computer is on loan. Indefinitely, Miss Steele.
I note from your tone that you have read the documentation I gave you.
Do you have any questions so far?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I can’t help but grin.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Enquiring Minds
Date: May 23 2011 08:25
To: Christian Grey
I have many questions, but not suitable for email, and some of us have to work for a living.
I do not want or need a computer indefinitely.
Until later, good day. Sir.Ana
His reply again is instant, and it makes me smile.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your New Computer (again on loan)
Date: May 23 2011 08:26
To: Anastasia Steele
Laters, baby.
PS: I work for a living too.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I shut the computer down, grinning like an idiot. How can I resist playful Christian? I am going to be late for work. Well, it is my last week – Mr. and Mrs. Clayton will probably cut me some slack. I race into the shower, unable to shake my face-splitting grin. He emailed me. I’m like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades. As I wash my hair, I try and think what I could possibly ask him via email. Surely it’s better to talk these things through. Suppose someone hacked into his account? I flush at the thought. I dress quickly, shout a hasty goodbye to Kate, and I’m off to work my last week at Clayton’s.
José phones at eleven.
“Hey, are we doing coffee?” He sounds like the old José. José my friend, not a – what did Christian call him? Suitor. Ugh.
“Sure. I’m at work. Can you make it here for say twelve?”
“See you then.”
He hangs up, and I go back to restocking the paintbrushes and thinking about Christian Grey and his contract.
José is punctual. He comes bounding into the shop like a gamboling dark-eyed puppy.
“Ana,” he smiles his dazzling toothy all-Hispanic-American smile, and I can’t be angry with him anymore.
“Hi José.” I hug him. “I’m starving. I’ll just let Mrs. Clayton know I’m going for lunch.”
As we stroll to the local coffee shop, I slip my arm through José’s. I’m so grateful for his – normality. Someone I know and understand.
“Hey Ana,” he murmurs. “You’ve really forgiven me?”
“José, you know I can never stay mad at you for long.”
He grins.
I can’t wait to get home. The lure of emailing Christian, and maybe I can begin my research project. Kate is out somewhere, so I fire up the new laptop and open my email. Sure enough, there’s an email from Christian sitting in the inbox. I’m practically bouncing out of my seat with glee.

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Working for a living
Date: May 23 2011 17:24
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I do hope you had a good day at work.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I hit reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Working for living
Date: May 23 2011 17:48
To: Christian Grey
Sir… I had a very good day at work.Thank you.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Do The Work!
Date: May 23 2011 17:50
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele
Delighted you had a good day.
While you are emailing, you are not researching.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Nuisance
Date: May 23 2011 17:53
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey, stop emailing me, and I can start my assignment.
I’d like another A.
I hug myself.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Impatient
Date: May 23 2011 17:55
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele
Stop emailing me – and do your assignment.I’d like to award another A.
The first one was so well deserved. 😉
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Christian Grey just sent me a winking smiley… Oh my. I fire up Google.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Internet Research
Date: May 23 2011 17:59
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey
What would you suggest I put into a search engine?
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Internet Research
Date: May 23 2011 18:02
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele
Always start with Wikipedia.
No more emails unless you have questions. Understood?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Bossy!
Date: May 23 2011 18:04
To: Christian Grey
Yes… Sir.You are so bossy.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: In Control
Date: May 23 2011 18:06
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia, you have no idea.
Well, maybe an inkling now.
Do the work.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I type Submissive into Wikipedia.
Half an hour later, I feel slight queasy and frankly shocked to my core. Do I really want this stuff in my head? Jeez – is this what he gets up to in the Red Room of Pain? I sit staring at the screen, and part of me, a very moist and integral part of me – that I’ve only become acquainted with very recently, is seriously turned on. Oh my, some of this stuff is HOT. But is it for me? Holy shit… could I do this? I need space. I need to think.

Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 10 (Read Online Free)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 10


He pulls out of me suddenly. I wince. He sits up on the bed and throws the used condom in a wastebasket.
“Come on, we need to get dressed – that’s if you want to meet my mother.” He grins, leaps up off the bed, and pulls on his jeans, no underwear! I struggle to sit up as I’m still tethered.
“Christian – I can’t move.”
His grin widens, and leaning down, he undoes the tie. The woven pattern has made an indented pattern around my wrists. It’s… sexy. He gazes at me. He’s amused, his eyes dancing with mirth. He kisses my forehead quickly and beams at me.
“Another first,” he acknowledges, but I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I have no clean clothes in here.” I am filled with sudden panic, and considering what I’ve just experienced, I’m finding the panic overwhelming. His mother! Holy crap. I have no clean clothes, and she’s practically walked in on us in flagrante delicto. “Perhaps I should stay here.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Christian threatens. “You can wear something of mine.” He’s slipped on a white t-shirt and runs his hand through his just-fucked hair. In spite of my anxiety, I lose my train of thought. Will I ever get used to looking at this beautiful man? His beauty is derailing.
“Anastasia, you could be wearing a sack and you’d look lovely. Please don’t worry. I’d like you to meet my mother. Get dressed. I’ll just go and calm her down.” His mouth presses into a hard line. “I will expect you in that room in five minutes, otherwise I’ll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you’re wearing. My t-shirts are in this drawer. My shirts are in the closet. Help yourself.” He eyes me speculatively for a moment, then leaves the room.
Holy shit. Christian’s mother. This is so much more than I bargained for. Perhaps meeting her will help put a little part of the jigsaw in place. Might help me understand why Christian is the way he is… Suddenly, I want to meet her. I pull my shirt off the floor, and I’m pleased to discover that it has survived the night well with hardly any creases. I find my blue bra under the bed and dress quickly. But if there’s one thing I hate, it’s not wearing clean panties. I rifle through Christian’s chest of drawers and come across his boxer briefs. After pulling on a pair of tight gray Calvin Kleins, I tug on my jeans and my Converse.
Grabbing my jacket, I dash into the bathroom and stare at my too-bright eyes, my flushed face – and my hair! Holy crap… just-fucked pigtails do not suit me either. I hunt in the vanity unit for a brush and find a comb. It will have to do. A ponytail is the only answer. I despair at my clothes. Maybe I should take Christian up on his offer of clothes. My subconscious purses her lips and mouths the word ‘ho’. I ignore her. Struggling into my jacket, pleased that the cuffs cover the tell-tale patterns from his tie, I take a last anxious glance at myself in the mirror. This will have to do. I make my way into the main living room.
“Here she is.” Christian stands from where he’s lounging on the couch.
His expression is warm and appreciative. The sandy-haired woman beside him turns and beams at me, a full megawatt smile. She stands too. She’s impeccably attired in a camel-colored fine knit sweater dress with matching shoes. She looks groomed, elegant, beautiful, and inside I die a little, knowing I look such a mess.
“Mother, this is Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, this is Grace Trevelyan-Grey.”
Dr. Trevelyan-Grey holds her hand out to me. T… for Trevelyan?
“What a pleasure to meet you,” she murmurs. If I’m not mistaken, there is wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice and a warm glow in her hazel eyes. I grasp her hand, and I can’t help but smile, returning her warmth.
“Dr. Trevelyan-Grey,” I murmur.
“Call me Grace,” she grins, and Christian frowns. “I am usually Dr. Trevelyan, and Mrs. Grey is my mother-in-law.” She winks. “So how did you two meet?” She looks questioningly at Christian, unable to hide her curiosity.
“Anastasia interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I’m conferring the degrees there this week.”
Double crap. I’d forgotten that.
“So you are graduating this week?” Grace asks.
My cell phone starts ringing. Kate, I bet.
“Excuse me.” It’s in the kitchen. I wander over and lean across the breakfast bar, not checking the number.
“Dios mio! Ana!” Holy crap, it’s José. He sounds desperate. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to contact you. I need to see you, to apologize for my behavior on Friday. Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
“Look José, now’s not a good time.” I glance anxiously over at Christian who’s watching me intently, his face impassive as he murmurs something to his mom. I turn my back to him.
“Where are you? Kate is being so evasive,” he whines.
“I’m in Seattle.”
“What are you doing in Seattle? Are you with him?”
“José, I’ll call you later. I can’t talk to you now.” I hang up.
I walk as nonchalantly back to Christian and his mother. Grace is in full flow.
“… And Elliot called to say you were around – I haven’t seen you for two weeks, darling.”
“Did he now?” Christian murmurs, gazing at me, his expression unreadable.
“I thought we might have lunch together, but I can see you have other plans, and I don’t want to interrupt your day.” She gathers up her long cream coat and turns to him, offering him her cheek. He kisses her briefly, sweetly. She doesn’t touch him.
“I have to drive Anastasia back to Portland.”
“Of course, darling. Anastasia, it’s been such a pleasure. I do hope we meet again.” She holds her hand out to me, her eyes glowing, and we shake.
Taylor appears from… where?
“Mrs. Grey?” he asks.
“Thank you, Taylor.” He escorts her from the room and through the double doors to the foyer. Taylor was here the whole time? How long has he been here? Where has he been?
Christian glares at me.
“So the photographer called?”
“What did he want?”
“Just to apologize, you know – for Friday.”
Christian narrows his eyes.
“I see,” he says simply.
Taylor reappears.
“Mr. Grey, there’s an issue with the Darfur shipment.”
Christian nods curtly at him.
“Charlie Tango back at Boeing Field?”
“Yes sir.”
Taylor nods at me.
“Miss Steele.”
I smile tentatively back at him, and he turns and leaves.
“Does he live here? Taylor?”
“Yes.” His tone is clipped. What is his problem?
Christian heads over to the kitchen and picks up his BlackBerry, scrolling through some emails, I assume. His mouth presses in a hard line, and he makes a call.
“Ros, what’s the issue?” he snaps. He listens, watching me, gray eyes speculative, as I stand in the middle of the huge room wondering what to do with myself, feeling extraordinarily self-conscious and out of place.
“I’m not having either crew put at risk. No, cancel… We’ll air drop instead… Good.” He hangs up. The warmth in his eyes has disappeared. He looks forbidding, and with one quick glance at me, he heads into his study and returns a moment later.
“This is the contract. Read it, and we’ll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest you do some research, so you know what’s involved.” He pauses. “That’s if you agree, and I really hope you do.” He adds, his tone softer, anxious.
“You’ll be amazed what you can find on the Internet,” he murmurs.
Internet! I don’t have access to a computer, only Kate’s laptop, and I couldn’t use Clayton’s, not for this sort of ‘research’ surely?
“What is it?” he asks, cocking his head to one side.
“I don’t have a computer. I’ll see if I can use Kate’s laptop.”
He hands me a manila envelope.
“I’m sure I can… err, lend you one. Grab your things, we’ll drive back to Portland and grab some lunch on the way. I need to dress.”
“I’ll just make a call,” I murmur. I just want to hear Kate’s voice. He frowns.
“The photographer?” His jaw clenches, and his eyes burn. I blink at him. “I don’t like to share, Miss Steele. Remember that.” His quiet, chilling tone is a warning, and with one long, cold look at me, he heads back to the bedroom.
Holy crap. I just wanted to call Kate, I want to call after him, but his sudden aloofness has left me paralyzed. What happened to the generous, relaxed, smiling man who was making love to me not half an hour ago?
“Ready?” Christian asks as we stand by the double doors to the foyer.
I nod uncertainly. He’s resumed his distant, polite, uptight persona, his mask back up and on show. He’s carrying a leather messenger bag. Why does he need that? Perhaps he’s staying in Portland, and then I remember graduation. Oh yes… he’ll be there on Thursday. He’s wearing a black leather jacket. He certainly doesn’t look like the multi-multi millionaire, billionaire, what-ever-aire, in these clothes. He looks like a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, maybe a badly behaved rock star or a catwalk model. I sigh inwardly, wishing I had a tenth of his poise. He’s so calm and controlled. I frown, recalling his outburst about José… Well, he seems to be.
Taylor is hovering in the background.
“Tomorrow then,” he says to Taylor who nods.
“Yes sir. Which car are you taking, sir?”
He looks down at me briefly.
“The R8.”
“Safe trip, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele.” Taylor looks kindly at me, though perhaps there’s a hint of pity hidden in the depths of his eyes.
No doubt he thinks I’ve succumbed to Mr. Grey’s dubious sexual habits. Not yet, just his exceptional sexual habits, or perhaps sex is like that for everyone. I frown at the
thought. I have no comparison, and I can’t ask Kate. That’s something I am going to have to address with Christian. It’s perfectly natural that I should talk to someone – and I can’t talk to him if he is so open one minute and so standoffish the next.
Taylor holds the door open for us and ushers us through. Christian summons the elevator.
“What is it, Anastasia?” he asks. How does he know I’m chewing something over in my mind? He reaches up and pulls my chin.
“Stop biting your lip, or I will fuck you in the elevator, and I don’t care who gets in with us.”
I blush, but there’s a hint of a smile around his lips, finally his mood seems to be shifting.
“Christian, I have a problem.”
“Oh?” I have his full attention.
The elevator arrives. We walk in, and Christian presses the button marked G.
“Well,” I flush. How to say this? “I need to talk to Kate. I’ve so many questions about sex, and you’re too involved. If you want me to do all these things, how do I know–?” I pause, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t have any terms of reference.”
He rolls his eyes at me.
“Talk to her if you must.” He sounds exasperated. “Make sure she doesn’t mention anything to Elliot.”
I bristle at his insinuation. Kate isn’t like that.
“She wouldn’t do that, and I wouldn’t tell you anything she tells me about Elliot – if she were to tell me anything,” I add quickly.
“Well, the difference is that I don’t want to know about his sex life,” Christian murmurs dryly. “Elliot’s a nosy bastard. But only about what we’ve done so far,” he warns. “She’d probably have my balls if she knew what I wanted to do to you,” he adds so softly I’m not sure I’m supposed to hear it.
“Okay,” I agree readily, smiling up at him, relieved. The thought of Kate with Christian’s balls is not something I want to dwell on.
His lip quirks up at me, and he shakes his head.
“The sooner I have your submission the better, and we can stop all this,” he murmurs.
“Stop all what?”
“You, defying me.” He reaches down and cups my chin and plants a swift, sweet kiss on my lips as the doors to the elevator open. He grabs my hand and leads me into the underground garage.
Me, defying him… how?
Beside the elevator, I can see the black 4×4 Audi, but it’s the sleek, black sporty number that blips open and lights up when he points the key fob at it. It’s one of those cars that should have a very leggy blonde, wearing nothing but a sash, sprawled across the hood.
“Nice car,” I murmur dryly.
He glances up and grins.
“I know,” he says, and for a split second, sweet, young, carefree Christian is back. It warms my heart. He’s so excited. Boys and their toys. I roll my eyes at him but can’t stifle
my smile. He opens the door for me and I climb in. Whoa… it’s low. He moves round the car with easy grace and folds his long frame elegantly in beside me. How does he do that?
“So what sort of car is this?”
“It’s an Audi R8 Spyder. It’s a lovely day, we can take the top down. There’s a baseball cap in there. In fact there should be two.” He points to the glove box. “And sunglasses if you want them.”
He starts the ignition, and the engine roars behind us. He places his bag in the space behind our seats, presses a button, and the roof slowly reclines. With the flick of a switch, Bruce Springsteen surrounds us.
“Gotta love Bruce,” he grins at me and eases the car out of the parking space, and up the steep ramp where we pause for the barrier.
Then we’re out into the bright Seattle May morning. I reach into the glove box and retrieve the baseball caps. The Mariners. He likes baseball? I pass him a cap, and he puts it on. I pass my ponytail through the back of mine and pull the peak down low.
People stare at us as we drive through the streets. For a moment, I think it’s at him… and then a very paranoid part thinks everyone is looking at me because they know what I’ve been doing during the last twelve hours, but finally, I realize it’s the car. Christian seems oblivious, lost in thought.
The traffic is light and we’re soon on the I-5 heading south, the wind sweeping over our heads. Bruce is singing about being on fire and his desire. How apt. I flush as I listen to the words. Christian glances at me. He’s got his Ray-Bans on so I can’t see what he’s thinking. His mouth twitches slightly, and he reaches across and places his hand on my knee, squeezing gently. My breath hitches.
“Hungry?” he asks.
Not for food.
“Not particularly.”
His mouth tightens into that hard line.
“You must eat, Anastasia,” he chides. “I know a great place near Olympia. We’ll stop there.” He squeezes my knee again, and then returns his hand to the steering wheel as he puts his foot down on the gas. I’m pressed into the back of my seat. Boy this car can move.
The restaurant is small and intimate, a wooden chalet in the middle of a forest. The décor is rustic: random chairs and tables with gingham tablecloths, wild flowers in little vases. Cuisine Sauvage, it boasts above the door.
“I’ve not been here for a while. We don’t get a choice – they cook whatever they’ve caught or gathered.” He raises his eyebrows in mock horror, and I have to laugh. The waitress takes our drinks order. She flushes when she sees Christian, avoiding eye contact with him, hiding under her long blonde bangs. She likes him! It’s not just me!
“Two glasses of the Pinot Grigio,” Christian says with a voice of authority. I purse my lips, exasperated.
“What?” he snaps.
“I wanted a Diet Coke,” I whisper.
His gray eyes narrow, and he shakes his head.
“The Pinot Grigio here’s a decent wine, it will go well with the meal, whatever we get.” He says patiently.
“Whatever we get?”
“Yes.” He smiles, his dazzling, head cocked to one side smile, and my stomach pole vaults over my spleen. I can’t help but reflect his glorious smile back at him.
“My mother liked you,” he says dryly.
“Really?” His words make me flush with pleasure.
“Oh yes. She’s always thought I was gay.”
My mouth drops open, and I remember that question… from the interview. Oh no.
“Why did she think you were gay?” I whisper.
“Because she’s never seen me with a girl.”
“Oh… not even one of the fifteen?”
He smiles.
“You remembered. No, none of the fifteen.”
“You know, Anastasia, it’s been a weekend of firsts for me, too,” he says quietly.
“It has?”
“I’ve never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother. What are you doing to me?” His eyes burn, their intensity takes my breath away.
The waitress arrives with our glasses of wine, and I immediately take a quick sip. Is he opening up or just making a casual observation?
“I’ve really enjoyed this weekend,” I murmur. He narrows his eyes at me again.
“Stop biting that lip,” he growls. “Me too,” he adds.
“What’s vanilla sex?” I ask, if anything to distract myself from the intense, burning, sexy look he’s giving me. He laughs.
“Just straightforward sex, Anastasia. No toys, no added extras.” He shrugs. “You know… well actually you don’t, but that’s what it means.”
“Oh.” I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on the top. But hey, what do I know?
The waitress brings us soup. We both stare at it rather dubiously.
“Nettle soup,” the waitress informs us before turning and flouncing back into the kitchen. I don’t think she likes to be ignored by Christian. I take a tentative taste. It’s delicious. Christian and I look up at each other at the same time with relief. I giggle, and he cocks his head to one side.
“That’s a lovely sound,” he murmurs.
“Why have you never had vanilla sex before? Have you always done… err, what you’ve done?” I ask, intrigued.
He nods slowly.
“Sort of.” His voice is wary. He frowns for a moment and seems to be engaged in some kind of internal struggle. Then he glances up, a decision made. “One of my mother’s friends seduced me when I was fifteen.”
“Oh.” Holy shit that’s young!
“She had very particular tastes. I was her submissive for six years.” He shrugs.
“Oh.” My brain has frozen, stunned into inactivity by this admission.
“So I do know what it involves, Anastasia.” His eyes glow with insight.
I stare at him, unable to articulate anything – even my subconscious is silent.
“I didn’t really have a run-of-the-mill introduction to sex.”
Curiosity kicks in big time.
“So you never dated anyone at college?”
“No.” He shakes his head to emphasize the point.
The waitress takes our plates, interrupting us for a moment.
“Why?” I ask when she’s gone.
He smiles sardonically.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I didn’t want to. She was all I wanted, needed. And besides, she’d have beaten the shit out of me.” He smiles fondly at the memory.
Oh, this is way too much information – but I want more.
“So if she was a friend of your mother’s, how old was she?”
He smirks.
“Old enough to know better.”
“Do you still see her?”
“Do you still… err… ?” I flush.
“No.” He shakes his head and smiles indulgently at me. “She’s a very good friend.”
“Oh. Does your mother know?”
He gives me a don’t-be-stupid stare.
“Of course not.”
The waitress returns with venison, but my appetite has vanished. What a revelation. Christian the submissive… Holy shit. I take a large slug of Pinot Grigio – he’s right, of course, it’s delicious. Jeez, all these revelations, it’s so much to think about. I need time to process this, when I’m on my own, not when I’m distracted by his presence. He’s so overwhelming, so Alpha Male, and now he’s thrown this bombshell into the equation. He knows what it’s like.
“But it can’t have been full time?” I’m confused.
“Well, it was, though I didn’t see her all the time. It was… difficult. After all, I was still at school and then at college. Eat up, Anastasia.”
“I’m really not hungry, Christian.” I am reeling from your disclosure.
His expression hardens.
“Eat,” he says quietly, too quietly.
I stare at him. This man – sexually abused as an adolescent – his tone is so threatening.
“Give me a moment,” I mutter quietly. He blinks a couple of times.
“Okay,” he murmurs, and he continues with his meal.
This is what it will be like if I sign, him ordering me around. I frown. Do I want this? Reaching for my knife and fork, I tentatively cut into the venison. It’s very tasty.
“Is this what our err… relationship will be like?” I whisper. “You, ordering me around?” I can’t quite bring myself to look at him.
“Yes,” he murmurs.
“I see.”
“And what’s more, you’ll want me to,” he adds, his voice low.
I sincerely doubt that. I slice another piece of venison, holding it against my mouth.
“It’s a big step,” I murmur and eat.
“It is.” He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they are wide and grave. “Anastasia, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract – I’m happy to discuss any aspect. I’ll be in Portland until Friday if you want to talk about it before then.” His words are coming at me in a rush. “Call me – maybe we can have dinner – say, Wednesday? I really want to make this work. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this to work.”
His burning sincerity, his longing, is reflected in his eyes. This is fundamentally what I don’t grasp. Why me? Why not one of the fifteen? Oh no… Will that be me – a number? Sixteen of many?
“What happened to the fifteen?” I blurt.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking his head.
“Various things, but it boils down to,” he pauses, struggling to find the words I think. “Incompatibility.” He shrugs.
“And you think that I might be compatible with you?”
“So you’re not seeing any of them anymore?”
“No, Anastasia, I’m not. I am monogamous in my relationships.”
Oh… this is news.
“I see.”
“Do the research, Anastasia.”
I put my knife and fork down. I cannot eat any more.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to eat?”
I nod. He scowls at me but chooses not to say anything. I breathe a small sigh of relief. My stomach is churning with all this new information, and I’m feeling a little lightheaded from the wine. I watch as he devours everything on his plate. He eats like a horse. He must work out to stay in such great shape. The memory of the way his PJ’s hung from his hips comes unbidden to my mind. The image is totally distracting. I squirm uncomfortably. He glances up at me, and I blush.
“I’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right at this moment,” he murmurs. I blush further.
He smiles a wicked smile at me.
“I can guess,” he teases softly.
“I’m glad you can’t read my mind.”
“Your mind, no, Anastasia, but your body – that I’ve got to know quite well since yesterday.” His voice is suggestive. How does he switch so quickly from one mood to the next? He’s so mercurial… It’s hard to keep up.
He motions for the waitress and asks for the check. Once he’s paid, he stands and holds out his hand.
“Come.” Taking my hand in his, he leads me back to the car. This contact, flesh to flesh, it’s what is so unexpected from him, normal, intimate. I can’t reconcile this ordinary, tender gesture with what he wants to do in that room… The Red Room of Pain.
We are quiet on the drive from Olympia to Vancouver, both lost in our own thoughts. When he parks outside my apartment, it’s five in the evening. The lights are on – Kate is at home. Packing, no doubt, unless Elliot is still there. He switches off the engine, and I realize I’m going to have to leave him.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask. I don’t want him to go. I want to prolong our time together.
“No. I have work to do,” he says simply, gazing at me, his expression unfathomable.
I stare down at my hands, as I knot my fingers together. Suddenly I feel emotional. He’s leaving. Reaching over, he takes one of my hands and slowly pulls it to his mouth, tenderly kissing the back of my hand, such an old fashioned, sweet gesture. My heart leaps into my mouth.
“Thank you for this weekend, Anastasia. It’s been… the best. Wednesday? I’ll pick you up from work, from wherever?” he says softly.
“Wednesday,” I whisper.
He kisses my hand again and places it back in my lap. He climbs out, comes round to my side, and opens the passenger door. Why do I feel suddenly bereft? A lump forms in my throat. I must not let him see me like this. Fixing a smile on my face, I clamber out of the car and head up the path, knowing I have to face Kate, dreading facing Kate. I turn and gaze at him midway. Chin up Steele, I chide myself.
“Oh… by the way, I’m wearing your underwear.” I give him a small smile and pull up the waistband of the boxer briefs I’m wearing so he can see. Christian’s mouth drops open, shocked. What a great reaction. My mood shifts immediately, and I sashay into the house, part of me wanting to jump and punch the air. YES! My inner goddess is thrilled.
Kate is in the living area packing up her books into crates.
“You’re back. Where’s Christian? How are you?” Her voice is fevered, anxious, and she bounds up to me, grabbing my shoulders, minutely analyzing my face before I’ve even said hello.
Crap… I have to deal with Kate’s persistence and tenacity, and I’m in possession of a legal signed document saying I can’t talk. It’s not a healthy mix.
“Well how was it? I couldn’t stop thinking about you, after Elliot left, that is.” She grins mischievously.
I can’t help but smile at her concern and her burning curiosity, but suddenly I feel shy. I blush. It was very private. All of it. Seeing and knowing what Christian has to hide. But I have to give her some details, because she won’t leave me alone until I do.
“It was good, Kate. Very good, I think,” I say quietly, trying to hide my embarrassed tell-all smile.
“You think?”
“I’ve got nothing to compare it to, do I?” I shrug apologetically.
“Did he make you come?”
Holy crap. She’s so blunt. I go scarlet.
“Yes,” I mumble, exasperated.
Kate pulls me to the couch and we sit. She clasps my hands.
“That is good.” Kate looks at me in disbelief. “It was your first time. Wow, Christian must really know what he’s doing.”
Oh Kate, if only you knew.
“My first time was horrid,” she continues, making a sad comedy face.
“Oh?” This has me interested, something she’s never divulged before.
“Yes, Steve Paton. High school, dickless jock.” She shudders. “He was rough. I wasn’t ready. We were both drunk. You know – typical teenage post-prom disaster. Ugh – it took me months before I decided to have another go. And not with him, the gutless wonder. I was too young. You were right to wait.”
“Kate, that sounds awful.”
Kate looks wistful.
“Yeah, took almost a year to have my first orgasm through penetrative sex and here you are… first time?”
I nod shyly. My inner goddess sits in the lotus position looking serene except for the sly, self-congratulatory smile on her face.
“I’m glad you lost it to someone who knows their ass from their elbow.” She winks at me. “So when are you seeing him again?”
“Wednesday. We’re having dinner.”
“So you still like him?”
“Yes. But I don’t know about… the future.”
“He’s complicated, Kate. You know – he inhabits a very different world to mine.” Great excuse. Believable too. Much better than – he’s got a Red Room of Pain, and he wants to make me his sex slave.
“Oh please, don’t let this be about money, Ana. Elliot said it’s very unusual for Christian to date anyone.”
“Did he?” My voice hitches up several octaves.
Too obvious, Steele! My subconscious glares at me, wagging her long skinny finger, then morphs into the scales of justice to remind me he could sue if I disclose too much. Ha… what’s he going to do – take all my money? I must remember to Google ‘penalties for breaching a non-disclosure agreement’ while I’m doing the rest of my ‘research’. It’s like I’ve been given a school assignment. Maybe I’ll be graded. I flush, remembering my A for this morning’s bath experiment.
“Ana, what is it?”
“I’m just remembering something Christian said.”
“You look different,” Kate says fondly.
“I feel different. Sore,” I confess.
“A little.” I flush.
“Me too. Men,” she says in mock disgust. “They’re animals.” We both laugh.
“You’re sore?” I exclaim.
“Yes… overuse.”
I giggle.
“Tell me about Elliot the over-user,” I ask when I’ve stopped giggling. Oh, I can feel myself relaxing for the first time since I was in line at the bar… before the phone call that started all this – when I was admiring Mr. Grey from afar. Happy uncomplicated days.
Kate blushes. Oh my… Katherine Agnes Kavanagh goes all Anastasia Rose Steele on me. She gives me a dewy-eyed look. I’ve never seen her react this way to a man before. My jaw drops to the floor. Where’s Kate, what have you done with her?
“Oh, Ana,” she gushes. “He’s just so… Everything. And when we… oh… really good.” She can hardly string a sentence together she’s got it so bad.
“I think you’re trying to tell me that you like him.”
She nods, grinning like a lunatic.
“And I’m seeing him on Saturday. He’s going to help us move.” She clasps her hands together, leaps up off the couch, and pirouettes to the window. Moving. Crap – I’d forgotten all about that, even with the packing cases surrounding us.
“That’s helpful of him,” I say appreciatively. I can get to know him too. Perhaps he can give me more insight into his strange, disturbing brother.
“So what did you do last night?” I ask. She cocks her head at me and raises her eyebrows in a what-do-think-stupid-look.
“Pretty much what you did, though we had dinner first.” She grins at me. “Are you okay really? You look kind of overwhelmed.”
“I feel overwhelmed. Christian is very intense.”
“Yeah, I could see how he could be. But he was good to you?”
“Yes,” I reassure her. “I’m really hungry, shall I cook?”
She nods and picks up two more books to pack.
“What do you want to do with the fourteen thousand dollar books?” she asks.
“I’m going to return them to him.”
“It’s a completely over-the-top gift. I can’t accept it, especially now.” I grin at Kate, and she nods.
“I understand. A couple of letters came for you, and José has been calling every hour on the hour. He sounded desperate.”
“I’ll call him,” I mutter evasively. If I tell Kate about José, she’ll have him for breakfast. I collect the letters from the dining table and open them.
“Hey, I have interviews! The week after next, in Seattle, for intern placements!”
“For which publishing house?”
“For both of them!”
“I told you your GPA would open doors, Ana.”
Kate, of course, already has an internship set up at the Seattle Times. Her father knows someone, who knows someone.
“How does Elliot feel about you going away?” I ask.
Kate wanders into the kitchen, and for the first time this evening, she’s disconsolate.
“He’s understanding. Part of me doesn’t want to go, but it’s tempting to lie in the sun for a couple of weeks. Besides, Mom is hanging in there, thinking this will be our last real family holiday before Ethan and I head off into the world of paid employment.”
I have never left continental US. Kate is off to Barbados with her parents and her brother Ethan for two whole weeks. I’ll be Kateless in our new apartment. That will be weird. Ethan has been traveling the world since he graduated last year. I wonder briefly if I’ll see him before they go on vacation. He’s such a lovely guy. The phone rings, jolting me from my reverie.
“That’ll be José.”
I sigh. I know I have to talk to him. I grab the phone.
“Ana, you’re back!” José shouts his relief at me.
“Obviously.” Sarcasm drips from my voice, and I roll my eyes at the phone.
He’s silent for a moment.
“Can I see you? I’m sorry about Friday night. I was drunk… and you… well. Ana – please forgive me.”
“Of course, I forgive you José. Just don’t do it again. You know I don’t feel like that about you.”
He sighs heavily, sadly.
“I know, Ana. I just thought, if I kissed you, it might change how you feel.”
“José, I love you dearly, you mean so much to me. You’re like the brother I never had. That’s not going to change. You know that.” I hate to let him down, but it’s the truth.
“So you’re with him now?” His tone is full of disdain.
“José, I’m not with anybody.”
“But you spent the night with him.”
“That’s none of your business!”
“Is it the money?”
“José! How dare you!” I shout, staggered by his audacity.
“Ana,” he whines and apologizes simultaneously. I cannot deal with his petty jealousy now. I know he’s hurt, but my plate is overflowing dealing with Christian Grey.
“Maybe we can have a coffee or something tomorrow. I’ll call you.” I am conciliatory. He is my friend, and I’m very fond of him. But right now, I don’t need this.
“Tomorrow then. You’ll call?” The hope in his voice twists my heart.
“Yes… goodnight, José.” I hang up, not waiting for his response.
“What was that all about?” Katherine demands, her hands on her hips. I decide honesty is the policy. She’s looking more intractable than ever.
“He made a pass at me on Friday.”
“José? And Christian Grey? Ana, your pheromones must be working overtime. What was the stupid fool thinking?” She shakes her head in disgust and returns to packing crates.
Forty-five minutes later, we pause our packing for the house specialty, my lasagna. Kate opens a bottle of wine, and we sit amongst the boxes eating, quaffing cheap red wine, and watching crap TV. This is normality. It’s so grounding and welcome after the last forty-eight hours of… madness. I eat my first unhurried, no nagging, peaceful meal in that time. What is it about him and food? Kate clears the dishes, and I finish packing up the living room. We are left with the couch, the TV, and the dining table. What more could we need? Just the kitchen and our bedrooms left to pack up, and we have the rest of the week. Result!
The phone rings again. It’s Elliot. Kate winks at me and skips off to her bedroom like she’s fourteen. I know that she should be writing her Valedictorian speech, but it seems Elliot is more important. What is it about the Grey men? What is it that makes them totally distracting, all-consuming, and irresistible? I take another slug of wine.
I flick through the TV channels, but deep down I know I’m procrastinating. Burning a bright red hole in the side of my purse is that contract. Do I have the strength and the wherewithal to read it tonight?
I put my head in my hands. José and Christian, they both want something from me. José is easy to deal with. But Christian… Christian takes a whole different league of handling, of understanding. Part of me wants to run and hide. What am I going to do? His burning gray eyes and that intense smoldering stare come into my mind’s eye, and my body tightens at the thought. I gasp. He’s not even here, and I’m turned on. It just can’t be about sex, can it? I recall his gentle banter this morning at breakfast, his joy at my delight with the helicopter ride, him playing the piano – the sweet soulful oh-so-sad music.
He’s such a complicated person. And now I have an insight as to why. A young man deprived of his adolescence, sexually abused by some evil Mrs. Robinson figure… no wonder he’s old before his time. My heart fills with sadness at the thought of what he must have been through. I’m too naïve to know exactly what, but the research should shed some light. But do I really want to know? Do I want to explore this world I know nothing about? It’s such a big step.
If I’d not met him, I’d still be sweetly and blissfully oblivious. My mind drifts to last night, and this morning… and the incredible, sensual sexuality I’ve experienced. Do I want to say goodbye to that? No! Screams my subconscious… my inner goddess nods in silent zen-like agreement with her.
Kate wanders back into the living room, grinning from ear to ear. Perhaps she’s in love – I gape at her. She’s never behaved like this.
“Ana, I’m off to bed. I’m pretty tired.”
“Me too, Kate.”
She hugs me.
“I’m glad you’re back in one piece. There’s something about Christian,” she adds quietly, apologetically. I give her a small, reassuring smile – all the while thinking… How the hell does she know? This is what will make her a great journalist, her unfaltering intuition.
Collecting my purse, I wander listlessly into my bedroom. I am weary from all our carnal exertions of the last day and from the complete and utter dilemma that I’m faced with. I sit on my bed and gingerly extract the manila envelope from the bag, turning it over and over in my hands. Do I really want to know the extent of Christian’s depravity? It’s so daunting. I take a deep breath, and with my heart in my throat, I rip open the envelope.

Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 9 (Read Online Free)


Fifty Shades of Grey CHAPTER 9


Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and open my eyes. It’s a beautiful May morning, Seattle at my feet. Wow, what a view. Beside me, Christian Grey is fast asleep. Wow, what a view. I’m surprised he’s still in bed. He’s facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks younger, relaxed in sleep. His sculptured, pouty lips are parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess. How could anyone look this good and still be legal? I remember his room upstairs… perhaps he’s not legal. I shake my head, so much to think about. It’s tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he’s so lovely when he’s asleep. I don’t have to worry about what I’m saying, what he’s saying, what plans he has, especially his plans for me.
I could gaze at him all day, but I have needs – bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find his white shirt on the floor and shrug it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but I’m in a vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Lines and lines of expensive suits, shirts, shoes, and ties. How can anyone need this many clothes? I tut with disapproval. Actually, Kate’s wardrobe probably rivals this. Kate! Oh no. I didn’t think about her all evening. I was supposed to text her. Crap. I’m going to be in trouble. I wonder briefly how she’s getting on with Elliot.
Returning to the bedroom, Christian is still asleep. I try the other door. It’s the bathroom, and it’s bigger than my bedroom. Why does one man need so much space? Two
sinks, I notice with irony. Given he doesn’t sleep with anyone, one of them can’t have been used.
I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look different? I feel different. I feel a little sore, if I’m honest, and my muscles – jeez it’s like I’ve never done any exercise in my life. You don’t do any exercise in your life, my subconscious has woken. She’s staring at me with pursed lips, tapping her foot. So you’ve just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn’t love you. In fact, he has very odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.
ARE YOU CRAZY? She’s shouting at me.
I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, fancy falling for a man who’s beyond beautiful, richer than Croesus, and has a Red Room of Pain waiting for me. I shudder. I’m bewildered and confused. My hair is its usual wayward self. Just-fucked hair doesn’t suit me. I try and bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up – maybe I’ll find hair ties in my purse.
I’m starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so I leave him and head for the kitchen.
Oh no… Kate. I left my purse in Christian’s study. I fetch it and reach for my cell phone. Three texts.
*RU OK Ana*
*Where RU Ana*
*Damn it Ana*
I call Kate. When she doesn’t answer, I leave her a groveling message to tell her I am alive and have not succumbed to Bluebeard, well not in the sense she would be worried about – or perhaps I have. Oh this is so confusing. I have to try and categorize and analyze my feelings for Christian Grey. It’s an impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I need alone time, away from here to think.
I find two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pigtails. Yes! The more girly I look, perhaps the safer I’ll be from Bluebeard. I take my iPod out of the bag and plug my headphones in. There’s nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of Christian’s shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing.
Holy hell, I’m hungry.
I am daunted by his kitchen. It’s so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. It takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors to open them. Perhaps I should cook Christian breakfast. He was eating an omelet the other day… um, yesterday at the Heathman. Jeez, so much has happened since then. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way round the kitchen.
Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. Music blaring in my ears also helps to stave off deep thought. I came here to spend the night in Christian Grey’s bed, and managed it, even though he doesn’t let anyone in his bed. I smile, mission accomplished. Big time. I grin. Big, big time, and I’m distracted by the memory of last night. His words, his body, his lovemaking… I close my eyes as my body hums at the recollection,
and my muscles contract deliciously deep in my belly. My subconscious scowls at me… fucking – not lovemaking – she screams at me like a harpy. I ignore her, but deep down I know she has a point. I shake my head to concentrate on the task at hand.
There is a state-of-the-art range. I think I have the hang of it. I need somewhere to keep the pancakes warm, and I start on the bacon. Amy Studt is singing in my ear about misfits. This song used to mean so much to me, that’s because I’m a misfit. I have never fitted in anywhere and now… I have an indecent proposal to consider from King Misfit himself. Why is he this way? Nature or Nurture? It’s so alien to anything I know.
I put the bacon under the grill, and while it’s cooking, I whisk some eggs. I turn, and Christian is sitting on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, leaning on it, his face supported by his steepled hands. He’s still wearing the t-shirt he’s slept in. Just-fucked hair really, really suits him, as does his designer stubble. He looks both amused and bewildered. I freeze, flush, then gather myself and pull the headphones out of my ears, my knees weak at the sight of him.
“Good morning, Miss Steele. You’re very energetic this morning,” he says dryly.
“I slept well,” I stutter my explanation. His lips try to mask his smile.
“I can’t imagine why.” He pauses and frowns. “So did I, after I came back to bed.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Very,” he says with an intense look, and I don’t think he’s referring to food.
“Pancakes, bacon, and eggs?”
“Sounds great.”
“I don’t know where you keep your placemats.” I shrug, trying desperately hard not to look flustered.
“I’ll do that. You cook. Would you like me to put some music on so you can continue your… err… dancing?”
I stare down at my fingers, knowing that I am turning puce.
“Please, don’t stop on my account. It’s very entertaining.” His tone is one of wry amusement.
I purse my lips. Entertaining eh? My subconscious has doubled over in laughter at me. I turn and continue to whisk the eggs, probably beating them a little harder than they need. In a moment, he’s beside me. He gently pulls my pigtail.
“I love these,” he whispers. “They won’t protect you.” Hmm Bluebeard…
“How would you like your eggs?” I ask tartly. He smiles.
“Thoroughly whisked and beaten,” he smirks.
I turn back to the task at hand, trying to hide my smile. He’s hard to stay mad at. Especially when he’s being so uncharacteristically playful. He opens a drawer and takes out two black slate placemats for the breakfast bar. I pour the egg mix into a pan, pull out the bacon and turn it over, and put it back under the grill.
When I turn back round, there is orange juice on the table, and he’s making coffee.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please. If you have some.”
I find a couple of plates and place them in the warming tray of the range. Christian reaches into a cupboard and pulls out some Twining’s English Breakfast tea. I purse my lips.
“Bit of a foregone conclusion wasn’t I?”
“Are you? I’m not sure we’ve concluded anything yet, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.
What does he mean by that? Our negotiations? Our, err… relationship… whatever that is? He’s still so cryptic. I serve up the breakfast onto the heated plates and lay them on the placemats. I hunt in the refrigerator and find some maple syrup.
I glance up at Christian, and he’s waiting for me to sit down.
“Miss Steele.” He motions to one of the bar stools.
“Mr. Grey.” I nod in acknowledgement. I climb up and wince slightly as I sit down.
“Just how sore are you?” he asks as he sits down. His gray eyes dark.
I flush. Why does he ask such personal questions?
“Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to,” I snap at him. “Did you wish to offer your commiserations?” I ask too sweetly. I think he’s trying to stifle a smile, but I can’t be sure.
“No. I wondered if we should continue your basic training.”
“Oh.” I stare at him dumbfounded as I stop breathing and everything inside me clenches tight. Ooh… that’s so nice. I suppress my groan.
“Eat, Anastasia.” My appetite has become uncertain again… more… more sex… yes please.
“This is delicious, incidentally.” He grins at me.
I try a forkful of omelet but can barely taste it. Basic training! I want to fuck your mouth. Does that form part of basic training?
“Stop biting your lip. It’s very distracting, and I happen to know you’re not wearing anything under my shirt which makes it even more distracting,” he growls.
I dunk my teabag in the small pot that Christian has provided. My mind is in a whirl.
“What sort of basic training did you have in mind?” I ask, my voice slightly too high, betraying my wish to sound as natural, disinterested, and calm as I can with my hormones wreaking havoc through my body.
“Well, as you’re sore, I thought we could stick to oral skills.”
I choke on my tea, and I stare at him, eyes wide and gaping. He pats me gently on the back and passes me some orange juice. I cannot tell what he’s thinking.
“That’s if you want to stay,” he adds. I glance up at him, trying to recover my equilibrium. His expression is unreadable. It’s so frustrating.
“I’d like to stay for today. If that’s okay. I have to work tomorrow.”
“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?”
“I’ll get you to work by nine tomorrow.”
I frown. Does he want me to stay another night?
“I’ll need to go home tonight – I need clean clothes.”
“We can get you some here.”
I don’t have spare cash to spend on clothes. His hand comes up, and he grasps my chin, tugging it so my lip is released from the grip of my teeth. I’m not even aware I’ve been biting my lip.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I need to be home this evening.”
His mouth is a hard line.
“Okay, this evening,” he acquiesces. “Now eat your breakfast.”
My thoughts and my stomach are in turmoil. My appetite has vanished. I stare at my half-eaten breakfast. I’m just not hungry.
“Eat, Anastasia. You didn’t eat last night.”
“I’m really not hungry,” I whisper.
His eyes narrow.
“I would really like you to finish your breakfast.”
“What is it with you and food?” I blurt. His brow knits.
“I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat,” he snaps. His eyes are dark, pained.
Holy Crap. What is that all about? I pick up my fork and eat slowly, trying to chew. I must remember not to put so much on my plate if he’s going to be weird about food. His expression softens as I carefully make my way through my breakfast. I note that he cleans his plate. He waits for me to finish, and then he clears my plate.
“You cooked, I’ll clear.”
“That’s very democratic.”
“Yes.” He frowns. “Not my usual style. After I’ve done this, we’ll take a bath.”
“Oh, okay.” Oh my… I’d much rather have a shower. My cell rings, interrupting my reverie. It’s Kate.
“Hi.” I wander over to the glass doors of the balcony, away from him.
“Ana, why didn’t you text last night?” She’s angry.
“I’m sorry, I was overtaken by events.”
“You’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Did you?” She’s fishing for information. I roll my eyes at the expectation in her voice.
“Kate, I don’t want to talk over the phone.” Christian glances up at me.
“You did… I can tell.”
How can she tell? She’s bluffing, and I can’t talk about this. I’ve signed a damned agreement.
“Kate, please.”
“What was it like? Are you okay?”
“I’ve told you I’m okay.”
“Was he gentle?”
“Kate, please!” I can’t hide my exasperation.
“Ana, don’t hold out on me, I’ve been waiting for this day for nearly four years.”
“I’ll see you this evening.” I hang up.
That is going to be one difficult square to circle. She’s so tenacious, and she wants to know – in detail, and I can’t tell her because I’ve signed a – what was it called? NDA. She’ll freak and rightly so. I need a plan. I head back to watch Christian move gracefully around his kitchen.
“The NDA, does it cover everything?” I ask tentatively.
“Why?” he turns and gazes at me while putting the Twinings away. I flush.
“Well, I have a few questions, you know, about sex.” I stare down at my fingers. “And I’d like to ask Kate.”
“You can ask me.”
“Christian, with all due respect.” My voice fades. I can’t ask you. I’ll get your biased, kinky-as-hell, distorted world-view regarding sex. I want an impartial opinion. “It’s just about mechanics. I won’t mention the Red Room of Pain.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“Red Room of Pain? It’s mostly about pleasure, Anastasia. Believe me,” he says. “Besides,” his tone is harsher. “Your room-mate is making the beast with two backs with my brother. I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“Does your family know about your… um predilection?”
“No. It’s none of their business.” He saunters toward me until he’s standing in front of me.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, and raising his hand runs his fingers gently down my cheek to my chin, tilting my head back so he can look directly into my eyes. I squirm inwardly. I cannot lie to this man.
“Nothing specific at the moment,” I whisper.
“Well, we can start with – how was last night for you?” His eyes burn, filled with curiosity. He’s anxious to know. Wow.
“Good,” I murmur.
His lips lift slightly.
“Me too,” he murmurs. “I’ve never had vanilla sex before. There’s a lot to be said for it. But then, maybe it’s because it’s with you.” He runs his thumb across my lower lip.
I inhale sharply. Vanilla sex?
“Come, let’s have a bath.” He leans down and kisses me. My heart leaps and desire pools way down low… way down there.
The bath is a white stone, deep, egg-shaped affair, very designer. Christian leans over and fills it from the faucet on the tiled wall. He pours some expensive looking bath oil into the water. It foams as the bath fills and smells of sweet sultry Jasmine. He stands and gazes at me, his eyes dark, then peels his t-shirt off and casts it on the floor.
“Miss Steele.” He holds his hand out.
I’m standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and wary, my arms wrapped around myself. I step forward while surreptitiously admiring his physique. He is just yummy. My subconscious swoons and passes out somewhere in the back of my head. I take his hand, and he bids me to step into the bath while I am still wearing his shirt. I do as I’m told. I’ll have to get used to it if I’m going to take him up on his outrageous offer… if! The water is enticingly hot.
“Turn around, face me,” he orders, his voice soft. I do as I’m bid. He’s watching me intently.
“I know that lip is delicious, I can attest to that, but will you stop biting it?” he says through clenched teeth. “You chewing it makes me want to fuck you, and you’re sore, okay?”
I gasp, automatically unlocking my lip, shocked.
“Yeah,” he challenges. “Got the picture.” He glares at me. I nod frantically. I had no idea I could affect him so.
“Good.” He reaches forward and takes my iPod out of the breast pocket, and he puts it by the sink.
“Water and iPods – not a clever combination,” he mutters. He reaches down, grasps the hem of my white shirt, lifts it above my head, and discards it on the floor.
He stands back to gaze at me. I’m naked for heaven’s sake. I flush crimson and stare down at my hands, level with the base of my belly, and I desperately want to disappear into the hot water and foam, but I know he won’t want that.
“Hey,” he summons me. I peek up at him, and his head is cocked to one side. “Anastasia, you’re a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don’t hang your head like you’re ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s a real joy to stand here and gaze at you.” He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head up to reach his eyes. They are soft and warm, heated even. Oh my. He’s so close. I could just reach up and touch him.
“You can sit down now.” He halts my scattered thoughts, and I scoot down into the warm, welcoming water. Ooh… it stings. Which takes me by surprise, but it smells heavenly too, and the initial smarting pain soon ebbs away. I lie back and briefly close my eyes, relaxing in the soothing warmth. When I open them, he is gazing down at me.
“Why don’t you join me?” I ask, bravely I think – my voice husky.
“I think I will. Move forward,” he orders.
He strips out of his PJ pants and climbs in behind me. The water rises as he sits and pulls me against his chest. He places his long legs over mine, his knees bent and his ankles level with mine, and he pulls his feet apart, opening my legs. I gasp in surprise. His nose is in my hair and he inhales deeply.
“You smell so good, Anastasia.”
A tremor runs through my whole body. I am naked, in a bath with Christian Grey. He’s naked. If someone had told me I’d be doing this when I woke up in his hotel suite yesterday, I would not have believed them.
He reaches for a bottle of body wash from the built-in shelf beside the bath and squirts some into his hand. He rubs his hands together, creating a soft, foaming lather, and he closes his hands around my neck and starts to rub the soap into my neck and shoulders, massaging firmly with his long, strong fingers. I groan. His hands on me feel good.
“You like that?” I hear his smile.
He moves down my arms, then under them to my underarms washing gently. I’m so glad Kate insisted I shave. His hands glide across to my breasts, and I inhale sharply as his fingers encircle them and start kneading gently, taking no prisoners. My body bows instinctively, pushing my breasts into his hands. My nipples are tender. Very tender, no doubt from his less-than-delicate treatment of them last night. He doesn’t linger long and glides his hands down to my stomach and belly. My breathing increases, and my heart is racing. His growing erection presses against my behind. It’s such a turn-on knowing that it’s my body making him feel this way. Ha… not your mind. My subconscious sneers. I shake off the unwelcome thought.
He stops and reaches for a washcloth as I pant against him, wanting… needing. My hands rest on his firm, muscular thighs. Squirting more soap on to the washcloth, he leans down and washes between my legs. I hold my breath. His fingers skillfully stimulating me through the cloth, it’s heavenly, and my hips start moving at their own rhythm, pushing against his hand. As the sensations take over, I tilt my head back, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth slack, and I groan. The pressure is building slowly, inexorably inside me … oh my.
“Feel it, baby,” Christian whispers in my ear and very gently grazes my earlobe with his teeth. “Feel it for me.” My legs are pinioned by his to the side of the bath, holding me prisoner, giving him easy access to this most private part of myself.
“Oh… please,” I whisper. I try to stiffen my legs as my body goes rigid. I am in a sexual thrall to this man, and he doesn’t let me move.
“I think you’re clean enough now,” he murmurs, and he stops. What! No! No! No! My breathing is ragged.
“Why are you stopping?” I gasp.
“Because I have other plans for you Anastasia.”
What… oh my… but… I was… that’s not fair.
“Turn around. I need washing, too,” he murmurs.
Oh! Turning to face him, I’m shocked to find he has his erection firmly in his grasp. My mouth drops open.
“I want you to become well acquainted, on first name terms if you will, with my favorite and most cherished part of my body. I’m very attached to this.”
It’s so big and growing. His erection is above the water line, the water lapping at his hips. I glance up at him and come face to face with his wicked grin. He’s enjoying my astounded expression. I realize that I’m staring. I swallow. That was inside me! It doesn’t seem possible. He wants me to touch him. Hmm… okay, bring it on.
I smile at him and reach for the body wash, squirting some soap onto my hand. I do as he’s done, lathering the soap in my hands until they are foamy. I do not take my eyes off his. My lips are parted to accommodate my breathing… very deliberately I gently bite my bottom lip and then run my tongue across it, tracing where my teeth have been. His eyes are serious and dark, and they widen as my tongue skims my lower lip. I reach forward and place one of my hands around him, mirroring how he’s holding himself. His eyes close briefly. Wow… feels much firmer than I expect. I squeeze, and he places his hand over mine.
“Like this,” he whispers, and he moves his hand up and down with a firm grip round my fingers, and my fingers tighten around him. He closes his eyes again, and his breath hitches in his throat. When he opens them again, his gaze is scorching molten gray. “That’s right, baby.”
He releases my hand, leaving me to continue alone, and closes his eyes as I move up and down his length. He flexes his hips slightly into my hand and reflexively I grasp him tighter. A low groan escapes from deep within his throat. Fuck my mouth… hmm. I remember him pushing his thumb in my mouth and asking me to suck, hard. His mouth drops open slightly as his breathing increases. I lean forward, while he has his eyes closed, and place my lips around him and tentatively suck, running my tongue over the tip.
“Whoa… Ana.” His eyes fly open, and I suck harder.
Hmm… he’s soft and hard at once, like steel encased in velvet, and surprisingly tasty – salty and smooth.
“Christ,” he groans, and he closes his eyes again.
Moving down, I push him into my mouth. He groans again. Ha! My inner goddess is thrilled. I can do this. I can fuck him with my mouth. I twirl my tongue around the tip again, and he flexes his hips. His eyes are open now, blistering with heat. His teeth are clenched as he flexes again, and I push him deeper into my mouth, supporting myself on his thighs. I feel his legs tense beneath my hands. He reaches up and grabs my pigtails and starts to really move.
“Oh… baby… that feels good,” he murmurs. I suck harder, flicking my tongue across the head of his impressive erection. Wrapping my teeth behind my lips, I clamp my mouth around him. His breath hisses between his teeth, and he groans.
“Jesus. How far can you go?” he whispers.
Hmm… I pull him deeper into my mouth so I can feel him at the back of my throat and then to the front again. My tongue swirls around the end. He’s my very own Christian Grey flavor popsicle. I suck harder and harder, pushing him deeper and deeper, swirling my tongue round and round. Hmm… I had no idea giving pleasure could be such a turn-on, watching him writhe subtly with carnal longing. My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.
“Anastasia, I’m going to come in your mouth,” his breathy tone is warning. “If you don’t want me to, stop now.” He flexes his hips again, his eyes are wide, wary, and filled with salacious need – need for me. Need for my mouth… oh my.
Holy crap. His hands are really gripping my hair. I can do this. I push even harder and, in a moment of extraordinary confidence, I bare my teeth. It tips him over the edge. He cries out and stills, and I can feel warm, salty liquid oozing down my throat. I swallow quickly. Ugh… I’m not sure about this. But one look at him, and he’s come apart in the bath because of me, and I don’t care. I sit back and watch him, a triumphant, gloating smile tugging at the corners of my lips. His breathing is ragged. Opening his eyes, he glares at me.
“Don’t you have a gag reflex?” he asks, astonished. “Christ, Ana… that was… good, really good, unexpected though.” He frowns. “You know, you never cease to amaze me.”
I smile and consciously bite my lip. He eyes me speculatively.
“Have you done that before?”
“No.” And I can’t help the small tinge of pride in my denial.
“Good,” he says complacently and, I think, relieved. “Yet another first, Miss Steele.” He looks appraisingly at me. “Well, you get an A in oral skills. Come, let’s go to bed, I owe you an orgasm.”
Orgasm! Another one!
Quickly, he clambers out of the bath, giving me my first full glimpse of the Adonis, divinely formed, that is Christian Grey. My inner goddess has stopped dancing and is staring too, mouth open and drooling slightly. His erection tamed, but still substantial… wow. He wraps a small towel around his waist, covering the essentials, and holds out a larger fluffy white towel for me. Climbing out of the bath, I take his proffered hand. He wraps me in
the towel, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I long to reach round and embrace him… touch him… but he has my arms trapped in the towel. I’m soon lost in his kiss. He cradles my head, his tongue exploring my mouth, and I get a sense he’s expressing his gratitude – maybe – for my first blowjob? Whoa?
He pulls away, his hands on either side of my face, staring intently into my eyes. He looks lost.
“Say yes,” he whispers fervently.
I frown, not understanding.
“To what?”
“Yes to our arrangement. To being mine. Please, Ana,” he whispers, emphasizing the last word and my name, pleading. He kisses me again, sweetly, passionately, before he stands back and stares at me, blinking slightly. He takes my hand and leads me back to his bedroom, leaving me reeling, so I follow him meekly. Stunned. He really wants this.
In his bedroom, he stares down at me as we stand by his bed.
“Trust me?” he asks suddenly. I nod, wide-eyed with the sudden realization that I do trust him. What’s he going to do to me now? An electric thrill hums through me.
“Good girl,” he breathes, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. He steps away into his closet and comes back with a silver-grey silk woven tie.
“Knit your hands together in front of you,” he orders as he peels the towel off me and throws it on the floor.
I do as he asks, and he binds my wrists together with his tie, knotting it firmly. His eyes are bright with wild excitement. He tugs at the binding. It’s secure. Some boy scout he must have been to learn these knots. What now? My pulse has gone through the roof, my heart beating a frantic tattoo. He runs his fingers down my pigtails.
“You look so young with these,” he murmurs and moves forward. Instinctively, I move back until I feel the bed against the back of my knees. He drops his towel, but I can’t take my eyes off his face. His expression is ardent, full of desire.
“Oh, Anastasia, what shall I do to you?” he whispers as he lowers me on to the bed, lying beside me, and raising my hands above my head.
“Keep your hands up here, don’t move them, understand?” His eyes burn into mine, and I’m breathless from their intensity. This is not a man I want to cross… ever.
“Answer me,” he demands, his voice soft.
“I won’t move my hands.” I’m breathless.
“Good girl,” he murmurs and deliberately licks his lips slowly. I’m mesmerized by his tongue as it sweeps slowly over his upper lip. He’s staring into my eyes, watching me, appraising. He leans down and plants a chaste, swift kiss on my lips.
“I’m going to kiss you all over, Miss Steele,” he says softly, and he cups my chin, pushing it up giving him access to my throat. His lips glide down my throat, kissing, sucking, and nipping, to the small dip at the base of my neck. My body leaps to attention… everywhere. My recent bath experience has made my skin hyper-sensitive. My heated blood pools low in my belly, between my legs, right down there. I groan.
I want to touch him. I move my hands and rather awkwardly, given I’m restrained, feel his hair. He stops kissing me and glares up at me, shaking his head from side to side, tutting as he does. He reaches for my hands and places them above my head again.
“Don’t move your hands, or we just have to start all over again,” he scolds me mildly. Oh, he’s such a tease.
“I want to touch you.” My voice is all breathy and out of control.
“I know,” he murmurs. “Keep your hands above your head,” he orders, his voice forceful.
He cups my chin again and starts to kiss my throat as before. Oh… he’s so frustrating. His hands run down my body and over my breasts as he reaches the dip at the base of my neck with his lips. He swirls the tip of his nose around it then begins a very leisurely cruise with his mouth, heading south, following the path of his hands, down my sternum to my breasts. Each one is kissed and nipped gently and my nipples tenderly sucked. Holy crap. My hips start swaying and moving of their own accord, grinding to the rhythm of his mouth on me, and I’m desperately trying to remember to keep my hands above my head.
“Keep still,” he warns, his breath warm against my skin. Reaching my navel, he dips his tongue inside, and then gently grazes my belly with his teeth. My body bows off the bed.
“Hmm. You are so sweet, Miss Steele.” His nose glides along the line between my belly and my pubic hair, biting me gently, teasing me with his tongue. Sitting up suddenly, he kneels at my feet, grasping both my ankles and spreading my legs wide.
Holy shit. He grabs my left foot, bends my knee, and brings my foot up to his mouth. Watching and assessing my every reaction, he tenderly kisses each of my toes then bites each one of them softly on the pads. When he reaches my little toe, he bites harder, and I convulse, whimpering. He glides his tongue up my instep – and I can no longer watch him. It’s too erotic. I’m going to combust. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to absorb and manage all the sensations he’s creating. He kisses my ankle and trails kisses up my calf to my knee, stopping just above. He then starts on my right foot, repeating the whole, seductive, mind-blowing process.
“Oh, please,” I moan as he bites my little toe, the action resonating deep in my belly.
“All good things, Miss Steele,” he breathes.
This time he doesn’t stop at my knee, he continues up the inside of my thigh, pushing my thighs apart as he does. And I know what he’s going to do, and part of me wants to push him off because I’m mortified and embarrassed. He’s going to kiss me there! I know it. And part of me is glorying in the anticipation. He turns to my other knee and kisses his way up my thigh, kissing, licking, sucking, and then he’s between my legs, running his nose up and down my sex, very softly, very gently. I writhe… oh my.
He stops, waiting for me to calm. I do and raise my head to gaze at him, my mouth open as my pounding heart struggles to come out.
“Do you know how intoxicating you smell, Miss Steele?” he murmurs, and keeping his eyes on mine, he pushes his nose into my pubic hair and inhales.
I flush scarlet, everywhere, feeling faint, and I instantly close my eyes. I can’t watch him do that!
He blows gently up the length of my sex. Oh fuck…
“I like this.” He gently tugs at my pubic hair. “Perhaps we’ll keep this.”
“Oh… please,” I beg.
“Hmm, I like it when you beg me, Anastasia.”
I groan.
“Tit for tat is not my usual style, Miss Steele,” he whispers as he gently blows up and down me. “But you’ve pleased me today, and you should be rewarded.” I hear the wicked grin in his voice, and while my body is singing from his words, his tongue starts to slowly circle my clitoris as his hands hold down my thighs.
“Aargh!” I moan as my body bows and convulses at the touch of his tongue.
He swirls his tongue round and round, again and again, keeping up the torture. I’m losing all sense of self, every atom of my being concentrating hard on that small, potent powerhouse at the apex of my thighs. My legs go rigid, and he slips his finger inside me, and I hear his growling groan.
“Oh, baby. I love that you’re so wet for me.”
He moves his finger in a wide circle, stretching me, pulling at me, his tongue mirroring his actions, round and round, I groan. It is too much… My body begs for relief, and I can no longer deny it. I let go, losing all cogent thought as my orgasm seizes me, wringing my insides again and again. Holy fuck. I cry out, and the world dips and disappears from view as the force of my climax renders everything null and void.
I am panting and vaguely hear the rip of foil. Very slowly he eases into me and starts to move. Oh… my. The feeling is sore and sweet, and bold and gentle all at once.
“How’s this?” he breathes.
“Fine. Good,” I breathe. And he really starts to move, fast, hard, and large, thrusting into me over and over, implacable, pushing me and pushing me until I am close to the edge again. I whimper.
“Come for me, baby.” His voice is harsh, hard, raw at my ear, and I explode around him as he pounds rapidly into me.
“Thank fuck,” he whispers, and he thrusts hard once more and groans as he reaches his climax, pressing himself into me. Then he stills, his body rigid.
Collapsing on top of me, I feel his full weight forcing me into the mattress. I pull my tied hands over his neck and hold him the best I can. I know in that moment that I would do anything for this man. I am his. The wonder that he’s introduced me to, it’s beyond anything I could have imagined. And he wants to take it further, so much further, to a place I can’t, in my innocence, even imagine. Oh… what to do?
He leans up on his elbows and stares down at me, gray eyes intense.
“See how good we are together,” he murmurs. “If you give yourself to me, it will be so much better. Trust me, Anastasia, I can take you places you don’t even know exist.” His words echo my thoughts. He strokes his nose against mine. I am still reeling from my extraordinary physical reaction to him, and I gaze up at him blankly, grasping for a coherent thought.
Suddenly we both become aware of voices in the hall outside his bedroom door. It takes a moment to process what I can hear.
“But if he’s still in bed, then he must be ill. He’s never in bed at this time. Christian never sleeps in.”
“Mrs. Grey, please.”
“Taylor. You cannot keep me from my son.”
“Mrs. Grey, he’s not alone.”
“What do you mean he’s not alone?”
“He has someone with him.”
“ Oh… ” Even I hear the disbelief in her voice.
Christian blinks rapidly, staring down at me, wide-eyed with humored horror.
“Shit! It’s my mother.”

About E L James Author of Fifty Shades of Grey Noval

E L James is a TV executive, wife, and mother of two, based in West London. Since early childhood, she dreamt of writing stories that readers would fall in love with, but put those dreams on hold to focus on her family and her career. She finally plucked up the courage to put pen to paper with her first novel, Fifty Shades of Grey.

E L James is currently working on the sequel to Fifty Shades of Grey and a new romantic thriller with a supernatural twist.

Watch Fifty Shades of Grey Online Full Movie Free


Run Time: 124 min

Release date : 13 February 2015 (USA)

Directors : Sam Taylor-Johnson

Genres : Drama, Romance

Casting : Dakota Johnson, Jamie Dornan, Aaron Taylor-Johnson

Written by : Kelly Marcel (screenplay), E.L. James (novel)

Distributor : Focus Features

Summary : Fifty Shades of Grey is a 2011 erotic romance novel by British author E. L. James. It is the first installment in the Fifty Shades trilogy that traces the deepening relationship between a college