by E. L. James
I can’t believe my luck.
I knew you were a freak, Ana.
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
Not at all? Okay. We’ll have to fix this. I drag my hand through my hair, and in as even a tone as I can manage I ask, “Are you hungry?”
“Not for food,” she teases.
Whoa. She might as well be addressing my groin.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to her ear and catch her intoxicating scent. “You are as eager as ever, Miss Steele—and just to let you in on a little secret, so am I. But Dr. Greene is due here shortly.”
I lean against the sofa. “I wish you’d eat.” It’s a plea.
“What can you tell me about Dr. Greene?” She deftly changes the subject.
“She’s the best ob-gyn in Seattle. What more can I say?”
That’s what my doctor told my PA, anyway.
“I thought I was seeing your doctor? And don’t tell me you’re really a woman, because I won’t believe you.”
I suppress my snort. “I think it’s more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don’t you?”
She gives me a quizzical look, but she nods.
One more topic to tackle. “Anastasia, my mother would like you to come to dinner this evening. I believe Elliot is asking Kate, too. I don’t know how you feel about that. It will be odd for me to introduce you to my family.”
She takes a second to process the information, then tosses her hair over her shoulder in that way she does before a fight. But she looks hurt, not argumentative. “Are you ashamed of me?” She sounds choked.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Of course not.” Of all the ridiculous things to say! I glare at her, aggrieved. How could she think that about herself?
“Why is it odd?” she asks.
“Because I’ve never done it before.” I sound irritable.
“Why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I’m not?”
“I wasn’t aware that I was.” She’s calling me out. Again.
“Neither am I, usually,” she snaps.
Shit. Are we arguing?
Taylor clears his throat. “Dr. Greene is here, sir,” he says.
“Show her up to Miss Steele’s room.”
Ana turns and looks at me and I hold out my hand to her.
“You’re not going to come as well, are you?” She’s horrified and amused at once.
I laugh, and my body stirs. “I’d pay very good money to watch, believe me, Anastasia, but I don’t think the good doctor would approve.” She places her hand in mine, and I pull her up into my arms and kiss her. Her mouth is soft and warm and inviting; my hands glide into her hair and I deepen the kiss. When I pull away, she looks dazed. I press my forehead to hers. “I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait to get you naked.” I can’t believe how much I missed you. “Come on. I want to meet Dr. Greene, too.”
“You don’t know her?”
“No.”
I take Ana’s hand and we head upstairs, to what will be her bedroom.
Dr. Greene has one of those myopic stares; it’s penetrating and that makes me a tad uncomfortable. “Mr. Grey,” she says, shaking my outstretched hand with a firm, no-nonsense grip.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” I flash her my most benign smile.
“Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele,” she says politely to Ana, and I know she’s sizing up our relationship. I’m sure that she thinks I should be twiddling a mustache like a silent-movie villain. She turns and gives me a pointed “leave now” kind of look.
Okay.
“I’ll be downstairs,” I acquiesce. Though I would like to watch. I’m sure the good doctor’s reaction would be priceless if I made that request. I smirk at the thought and head downstairs to the living room.
Now that Ana’s no longer with me, I’m restless again. As a distraction I set the counter with two placemats. It’s the second time I’ve done this, and the first time was for Ana, too.
You’re going soft, Grey.
I select a Chablis to have with lunch—one of the few chardonnays I like—and when I’m done I take a seat on the sofa and browse through the sports section of the paper. Turning up the volume via the remote for my iPod, I hope the music will help me focus on stats from last night’s Mariners win against the Yankees, rather than what’s happening upstairs between Ana and Dr. Greene.
Eventually their footsteps echo in the corridor, and I look up as they enter. “Are you done?” I ask, and hit the remote for the iPod, to quiet the aria.
“Yes, Mr. Grey. Look after her; she’s a beautiful, bright young woman.”
What has Ana told her?
“I fully intend to,” I say, with a quick what-the-fuck glance at Ana.
She bats her lashes, clueless. Good. It’s nothing she’s said, then.
“I’ll send you my bill,” says Dr. Greene. “Good day, and good luck to you, Ana.” The edges of her eyes crinkle with a warm smile as we shake hands.
Taylor escorts her toward the elevator and wisely closes the double doors to the foyer.
“How was that?” I ask, a little bemused by Dr. Greene’s words.
“Fine, thank you,” Ana answers. “She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks.”
What the hell? I gape at her in shock.
Ana’s earnest expression dissolves into one of taunting triumph. “Gotcha!”
Well played, Miss Steele.
My eyes narrow and her grin vanishes.
“Gotcha!” I can’t help my smirk. Reaching around her waist, I pull her against me, my body hungering for her. “You are incorrigible, Miss Steele.” I weave my hands through her hair and kiss her hard, wondering if I should fuck her over the kitchen counter as a lesson.
All in good time, Grey.
“As much as I’d like to take you here and now, you need to eat and so do I. I don’t want you passing out on me later,” I whisper.
“Is that all you want me for—my body?” she asks.
“That and your smart mouth.” I kiss her once more, thinking of what’s to come…My kiss deepens and desire hardens my body. I want this woman. Before I fuck her on the floor, I release her, and we’re both breathless.
“What’s the music?” she says, her voice hoarse.
“Villa-Lobos, an aria from Bachianas Brasileiras. Good, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she says, gazing at the breakfast bar. I take the chicken Caesar out of the fridge, place it on the table between the placemats, and ask her if she’s okay with salad.
“Yes, fine, thank you.” She smiles.
From the wine fridge I take out the Chablis, feeling her eyes on me. I didn’t know I could be so domestic. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I was just watching the way you move.”
“And?” I ask, momentarily surprised.
“You’re very graceful,” she says quietly, her cheeks pink.
“Why, thank you, Miss Steele.” I sit beside her, unsure how to respond to her sweet compliment. Nobody’s called me graceful before. “Chablis?”
“Please.”
“Help yourself to salad. Tell me—what method did you opt for?”
“Mini pill,” she says.
“And will you remember to take it regularly, at the right time, every day?”
A blush steals across her surprised face. “I’m sure you’ll remind me,” she says with a hint of sarcasm, which I choose to ignore.
You should have had the shot.
“I’ll put an alarm on my calendar. Eat.”
She takes a bite, then another…and another. She’s eating!
“So I can put chicken Caesar on the list for Mrs. Jones?” I ask.
“I thought I’d be doing
the cooking.”
“Yes. You will.”
She finishes before I do. She must have been starving.
“Eager as ever, Miss Steele?”
“Yes,” she says, giving me a demure look from beneath her lashes.
Fuck. There it is.
The attraction.
As if under her spell, I get up and tug her into my arms.
“Do you want to do this?” I whisper, inwardly begging her to say yes.
“I haven’t signed anything.”
“I know—but I’m breaking all the rules these days.”
“Are you going to hit me?”
“Yes, but it won’t be to hurt you. I don’t want to punish you right now. If you’d caught me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story.”
Her face turns to shock.
Oh, baby. “Don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise, Anastasia. One of the reasons people like me to do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It’s very simple. You don’t, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that.”
I wrap my arms around her, holding her against my hardening erection.
“Did you reach any conclusions?” she whispers.
“No, and right now, I just want to tie you up and fuck you senseless. Are you ready for that?”
Her expression is darker, sensual, and full of carnal curiosity. “Yes,” she says, the word as soft as a sigh.
Thank fuck.
“Good. Come.” I lead her upstairs and into my playroom. My safe place. Where I can do what I wish with her. I close my eyes, briefly savoring the exhilaration.
Have I ever been this excited?
Pushing the door shut behind us, I release her hand and study her. Her lips are parted as she inhales; her breathing is quick and shallow. Her eyes are wide. Ready. Waiting.
“When you’re in here, you are completely mine. To do with as I see fit. Do you understand?”
Her tongue quickly licks her upper lip, and she nods.
Good girl.
“Take your shoes off.”
She swallows and proceeds to take off her high-heeled sandals. I pick them up and put them neatly by the door.
“Good. Don’t hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I’m going to peel you out of this dress. Something I’ve wanted to do for a few days, if I recall.”
I pause, checking that she’s still with me. “I want you to be comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it. It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” My tone is sharper.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you mean that?” I want you unashamed, Ana.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Lift your arms up over your head.”
Slowly she raises her arms in the air. I grab the hem and gently pull the dress up her body, revealing it inch by inch, for my eyes only. When it’s off I stand back so I can have my fill of her.
Legs, thighs, belly, ass, tits, shoulders, face, mouth…she’s perfect. Folding her dress, I place it on the toy chest. Reaching up, I tug her chin. “You’re biting your lip. You know what that does to me,” I scold. “Turn around.”
She complies and turns to face the door. I unfasten her bra and pull the straps down her arms, skimming her skin with my fingertips as I do and feeling her tremble beneath my touch. I take off her bra and toss it on top of her dress. I stand close, not quite touching her, listening to her rapid breathing and sensing the warmth radiating off her skin. She’s excited and she’s not the only one. I gather her hair in both of my hands so it falls down her back. It’s oh-so-silky to touch. I wind it around one hand and tug, angling her head to one side and exposing her neck to my mouth.
I run my nose from her ear to her shoulder and back again, inhaling her heavenly scent.
Fuck, she smells good.
“You smell as divine as ever, Anastasia.” I place a kiss beneath her ear just above her pulse.
She moans.
“Quiet. Don’t make a sound.”
From my jeans pocket I grab the hair tie, and taking her hair in my hands, I braid it, slowly, enjoying the pull and twist against her beautiful, flawless back. Deftly I fasten the end with the hair tie and give it a quick tug, forcing her to step back and press her body into mine. “I like your hair braided in here,” I whisper. “Turn around.”
She does so, immediately.
“When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress. Just in your panties. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” She’s learning fast. Her arms are by her sides, her eyes trained on mine. Waiting.
“When I tell you to come in here, I expect you to kneel over there.” I point to the corner of the room beside the door. “Do it now.”
She blinks a couple of times, but before I have to tell her again, she turns and kneels, facing me and the room.
I give her permission to sit back on her heels and she obliges. “Place your hands and forearms flat on your thighs. Good. Now part your knees. Wider.” I want to see you, baby. “Wider.” See your sex. “Perfect. Look down at the floor.”
Don’t look at me or the room. You can sit there and let your thoughts run wild while you imagine what I’m going to do to you.
I walk over to her, and I’m pleased that she keeps her head bowed. Reaching down, I tug her braid, tilting her head so that our eyes meet. “Will you remember this position, Anastasia?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Stay here, don’t move.”
Walking past her, I open the door and for a moment look back at her. Her head is bowed; her eyes stay fixed on the floor.
What a welcome sight. Good girl.
I want to run, but I contain my eagerness and walk purposefully downstairs to my bedroom.
Maintain some fucking dignity, Grey.
In my closet I strip off all my clothes and from a drawer pull out my favorite jeans. My DJs. Dom jeans.
I slip them on and fasten all the buttons except the top one. From the same drawer I retrieve the new riding crop and a gray waffle robe. As I leave I grab a few condoms and stuff them into my pocket.
Here goes.
Showtime, Grey.
When I get back she’s in the same position: her head bowed, her braid hanging down her back, her hands on her knees. I close the door and hang the robe on its hook. I walk past her. “Good girl, Anastasia. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up.”
She stands, keeping her head down.
“You may look at me.”
Eager blue eyes peek up.
“I’m going to chain you now, Anastasia. Give me your right hand.” I hold out mine and she places her hand in it. Without taking my eyes off hers I turn her hand palm up, and from behind my back produce the riding crop. I quickly flick the end across her palm. She startles and cups her hand, blinking at me in surprise.
“How does that feel?” I ask.
Her breathing accelerates, and she glances at me before looking back at her palm.
“Answer me.”
“Okay.” Her brows knit together.
“Don’t frown,” I warn. “Did that hurt?”
“No.”
“This is not going to hurt. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Her voice is a little shaky.
“I mean it,” I stress, and I show her the crop. Brown plaited leather. See? I listen. Her eyes meet mine, astonished. My lips twitch in amusement.
“We aim to please, Miss Steele. Come.”
I lead h
er to the middle of the room, beneath the restraining system. “This grid is designed so the shackles move across the grid.” She stares up at the intricate system, then back at me.
“We’re going to start here, but I want to fuck you standing up. So we’ll end up by the wall over there.” I point to the Saint Andrew’s cross. “Put your hands above your head.”
She does, immediately. Taking the leather cuffs that hang on the grid, I fasten one to each of her wrists in turn. I’m methodical, but she’s distracting. Being this close to her, sensing her excitement, her anxiety, touching her. I find it hard to concentrate. Once she’s cuffed I step back and take a deep breath, relieved.
Finally I’ve got you where I want you, Ana Steele.
Slowly I walk around her, admiring the view. Could she look hotter? “You look mighty fine trussed up like this, Miss Steele. And your smart mouth quiet for now. I like that.” I stop, facing her, curl my fingers into her panties, and oh so slowly drag them down her long legs until I’m kneeling at her feet.
Worshipping her. She’s glorious.
With my eyes locked on hers, I take her panties, crush them to my nose, and inhale deeply. Her mouth pops open and her eyes widen in amused shock.
Yes. I smirk. Perfect reaction.
I slip the panties into the back pocket of my jeans and stand, considering my next move. Holding out the crop, I run it over her belly and gently circle her navel with the keeper…the leather tongue. She sucks in her breath and tremors at the touch.
This will be good, Ana. Trust me.
Slowly I begin to circle her, drawing the crop across her skin, across her belly, her flank, her back. On my second circuit I flick the tongue at the base of her behind so it makes sharp contact with her vulva.
“Ah!” she cries, and she tugs against the shackles.
“Quiet,” I warn, and prowl around her once more. I flick the crop against her in the same sweet spot and she whines on contact, her eyes closed as she absorbs the sensation. With another twitch of my wrist, the crop snaps against her nipple. She throws her head back and moans. I aim again, and the crop licks her other nipple, and I watch it harden and lengthen beneath the bite of the leather keeper.
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” she rasps, eyes closed, head back.
I smack her across her behind, harder this time.