Freed

by James, E L

“Sea-Tac.”

  Ana looks puzzled, so I brush my thumb across her lip.

  “Trust me?”

  “Implicitly,” she breathes.

  “How was your wedding?”

  “Fantastic. Yours?”

  “Amazing.” And we’re grinning at each other like idiots.

  We drive airside through the security gates at Sea-Tac and steer toward the GEH Gulfstream. “Don’t tell me you’re misusing company property again!” Ana blurts when she spots the plane. Her eyes shine and she grips my hand, radiating excitement.

  “Oh, I hope so, Anastasia.” I give her my most wicked grin.

  Taylor stops the car at the foot of the steps to the plane, climbs out, and opens my door. I exit. “Thanks again, Taylor. We’ll see you in London,” I murmur, so Ana doesn’t hear.

  “I’m looking forward to it, sir. Safe travels.”

  “You, too.”

  “I’ll grab Mrs. Grey’s hand luggage,” he says, and my heart warms at Ana’s new honorific. I walk around to her door and open it wide. Leaning in, I lift her into my arms.

  “What are you doing?” she squeals.

  “Carrying you over the threshold.”

  She giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I carry her up the plane steps, where we’re met by Captain Stephan.

  “Welcome aboard, sir. Mrs. Grey,” he greets us, with a bold grin. I set Ana down and shake his hand. “Congratulations to you both,” he continues.

  “Thank you, Stephan. Anastasia, you know Stephan. He’s our captain today, and this is First Officer Beighley.”

  “Delighted to meet you,” Beighley says to Ana.

  Ana looks a little shell-shocked, but she responds in kind to them both.

  “All preparations complete?” I ask Beighley.

  “Yes, sir,” she replies with her usual confidence.

  “We have the all clear,” Stephan informs us. “Weather is good from here to Boston.”

  “Turbulence?”

  “Not before Boston. There’s a weather front over Shannon that might give us a rough ride.”

  “I see. Well, we hope to sleep through it all.”

  “We’ll get underway, sir,” Stephan says. “We’ll leave you in the capable care of Natalia, your flight attendant.”

  Natalia?

  Where’s Sara?

  Natalia looks vaguely familiar.

  I ignore my misgivings. “Excellent,” I say to Stephan, and taking Ana’s hand, I guide her to one of the seats. “Sit.”

  She does as she’s told, folding herself into the seat with surprising grace. I remove my jacket, undo the buttons on my vest, and sit down opposite her.

  “Welcome aboard, sir, ma’am, and congratulations,” Natalia welcomes us, poised with two crystal flutes of pink champagne.

  “Thank you.” I take both and offer one to Ana, while Natalia disappears into the galley.

  “Here’s to a happy married life, Anastasia.” I raise my glass to Ana’s and we clink.

  “Bollinger?” she asks.

  “The same.” We’ve been drinking it for most of the afternoon.

  “The first time I drank this it was out of teacups.” Her eyes have a faraway look.

  “I remember that day well. Your graduation.”

  What a day that was… I think spanking was involved. Hmm…and a discussion about soft and hard limits.

  I shift in my seat.

  “Where are we going?” Ana drags me back to the now.

  “Shannon.”

  “In Ireland?” she squeaks.

  “To refuel.”

  “Then?” Ana’s eyes are out on stalks; her excitement is contagious.

  I grin at her and say nothing, tantalizing her.

  “Christian!”

  I put her out of her misery. “London.”

  She gasps, looking shocked and awed at once. Then her light-up-Seattle smile is back.

  “Then Paris. Then the South of France,” I continue.

  I think Ana is going to combust.

  “I know you’ve always dreamed of going to Europe. I want to make your dreams come true, Anastasia.”

  “You are my dreams come true, Christian.”

  “Back at you, Mrs. Grey.” Her words warm my soul, and I take another sip of champagne. “Buckle up.”

  Ana grins. I think she’s pleased. And so am I. We’re flying through the sunset to chase the dawn on the other side of the Atlantic.

  Once we’re airborne, Natalia serves us dinner. Again, I’m starving.

  Why?

  Getting married really takes it out of a man. Ana and I discuss our highlights of the wedding. Mine was seeing her for the first time in her beautiful dress.

  “Mine was seeing you,” Ana confesses. “And that you were there!”

  “There?”

  “Part of me had wondered if this was all a dream and that maybe you wouldn’t show up.”

  “Ana, wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away.”

  “Dessert, Mr. Grey?” Natalia asks.

  I decline, and turn to study my wife. Running my finger across my bottom lip, I watch Ana, waiting for her response.

  “No, thank you,” she says to Natalia, gazing intently at me. Natalia leaves us.

  Oh, sweet heaven. I’m going to claim my wife.

  “Good,” I whisper. “I’d rather planned on having you for dessert.”

  Ana’s eyes meet mine and darken while her teeth tease her bottom lip.

  Rising from the table, I offer her my hand. “Come.” We head to the back of the cabin, away from the galley and the cockpit. I point to a door at the far end. “There’s a bathroom here.” Passing through a short corridor, we emerge into the aft cabin where the queen-size bed is ready for us.

  I pull Ana into my arms. “I thought we’d spend our wedding night at thirty-five thousand feet. It’s something I’ve never done before.”

  Ana inhales sharply, and the sound echoes in my groin.

  “But first I have to get you out of this fabulous dress.”

  Her breathing deepens. She wants this, too.

  “Turn around,” I whisper.

  She complies instantly, and I study her updo. Each hairpin has a tiny pearl on it—they’re exquisite. Like Ana. Gently, I start to extract each one, letting every strand of her hair fall free. My fingertips graze her temple, her neck, her earlobe, but it’s the lightest of touches. I want to tease and tantalize the hell out of my wife. And it’s working. She’s surreptitiously shifting her weight from foot to foot. She’s restless. Impatient. Her breathing is louder.

  She’s aroused.

  Just by my touch. And for me, her response is equally arousing.

  “You have such beautiful hair, Ana.” I breathe the words against her temple, enjoying her delicious fragrance, and a soft sigh escapes her lips. When I’ve removed all the pins, I ease my fingers into her hair and begin to slowly massage her scalp.

  She lets free a heartfelt moan of pleasure and leans back against me. My fingers travel over the back of her head to her nape. I take a fistful of her lush hair and tug, giving me access to her throat. “You’re mine.” I tease her earlobe with my teeth.

  She groans.

  “Hush now.” I sweep her hair over her shoulder and skim my finger along the lace edging of her dress. A tremor runs through her as I press my lips to her skin above the top button.

  “So beautiful,” I whisper, and undo it. “You have made me the happiest man alive today.” Taking my sweet time, I continue unfastening each delicate button. Her dress falls open, revealing her pale pink corset with delicate hooks at the back.

  My cock approves. Big-time.

  “I love you so much.” I skim my lips from her nape to her shoulder. Murmuring between kisses. “I. Wa
nt. You. So. Much. I. Want. To. Be. Inside. You. You. Are. Mine.”

  She angles her head, offering her throat to me.

  “Mine,” I utter against her skin, and slip her sleeves down her arms so that her bridal gown falls to her feet, in a delicate shock of silk and lace, leaving her in her corset with garters and stockings.

  Sweet Jesus. Stockings. All the blood in my body heads south.

  “Turn around.” My voice is hoarse.

  Inhaling sharply, I study my wife. She looks demure and really fucking hot all at once; her breasts forced up and full beneath her corset and her hair a tumbling riot of lush chestnut.

  “You like?” she asks, and she turns a fetching pink that matches her sexy underwear.

  “More than like, baby. You look sensational. Here.” I offer her my hand, and she steps out of her dress.

  “Keep still,” I warn, locking my eyes on hers. I run a finger over the soft swell of her breasts. They quiver beneath my touch as she inhales and exhales, faster…and shallower.

  I love turning my wife on.

  Reluctantly, I lift my finger from her skin and spin it in the air.

  Turn around for me.

  She does. When she’s facing the bed, I ask her to stop. Encircling her waist, I pull her back against my chest and kiss her neck. From this angle, I have a glorious top view of her straining breasts and I can’t resist them. I embrace each and hold them, letting my thumbs move over their soft swell to her nipples, circling each over and over. Ana moans.

  “Mine,” I breathe.

  “Yours,” she whispers.

  She pushes her ass against me and I have to fight my urge to press myself into her. As I skim my hands down the soft satin, over her stomach, her belly, to her thighs—my thumbs briefly skating over her vulva—she leans her head against me, eyes closed, and groans. My fingers find her garters and I unhook both of them at the same time. Then I move my hands to her fine ass.

  “Mine,” I whisper. As I caress her backside, my fingertips brush beneath her panties.

  “Ah,” she moans.

  She’s wet.

  Fuck. Ana. You siren.

  “Hush.” I unclip her garters at the back, then lean down and pull the duvet back. “Sit down.” She obliges and I kneel at her feet and tug off each of her shoes, placing them by her dress. I’m aware of her burning gaze as I slowly remove her left stocking, my thumbs skimming over her skin as I peel it off. I do the same with its twin. “This is like unwrapping my Christmas presents,” I whisper, and peek up at Ana.

  “A present you’ve had already,” she says quietly.

  What? Her comment takes me by surprise. “Oh, no, baby,” I reassure her, if that’s what she needs. “This time it’s really mine.”

  “Christian, I’ve been yours since I said yes.” She moves forward and holds my face between her palms. “I’m yours. I will always be yours, husband of mine.”

  Husband. It’s the first time she’s said it since the ceremony.

  “Now,” she says softly against my lips, “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.” She leans down to kiss me, but the word husband is ringing in my heart.

  I’m hers. Really hers.

  I kneel up and kiss her, grasping her head with both hands, weaving my fingers into her hair.

  “Ana,” I whisper. “My Ana.” And I kiss her again. Properly. Pushing my tongue into her mouth and tasting her. Tasting my wife. She answers my wordless passion with her own, her tongue finding and embracing mine.

  “Clothes,” she says when we surface for air, and attempts to remove my vest. I release her and shuck it off while she regards me with her beautiful blue eyes that are darkening with want. “Let me, please,” she pleads.

  I sit back on my heels, and she leans forward and takes my tie.

  That tie.

  My favorite.

  And she slowly undoes it and pulls it free.

  I lift my chin and she unfastens my top button. She moves to my cuffs and removes each of my new cuff links in turn. I hold out my hand, and she places them in my palm. Clasping them in my fist, I kiss my hand and then slip them into my pants pocket.

  “Mr. Grey, so romantic.”

  “For you, Mrs. Grey—hearts and flowers. Always.”

  She reaches for my hand, and peering up at me through her long, dark lashes, she kisses my wedding ring.

  Oh God. I close my eyes and groan. “Ana.”

  She starts to unbutton my shirt. As she unfastens each one, she plants a soft kiss where the button once was and whispers a word. “You. Make. Me. So. Happy. I. Love. You.”

  It’s too much. I want her.

  Fuck, do I want her.

  I groan and shake my shirt off, then lift her onto the bed and lay her down beneath me. My lips find hers and I hold her head, keeping her still as we share our first horizontal kiss as husband and wife.

  Ana.

  My pants are getting too tight. I kneel up between her legs and Ana is panting, her lips swollen from our kisses, and she’s staring up at me with want.

  Fuck.

  “You are so beautiful, wife.” I run my hands down each of her legs and grab her left foot. “You have such lovely legs. I want to kiss every inch of them. Starting here.” I press my lips to her big toe and graze the pad with my teeth.

  “Ah!” Ana makes a garbled sound and closes her eyes. I taste her instep and run my tongue to her heel, which I nip, then run my tongue to her ankle. I leave a path of soft wet kisses up the inside of her calf, and Ana squirms.

  “Still, Mrs. Grey,” I warn, and for a moment I watch her breasts rising and falling against the constraints of her corset.

  It’s a thing of beauty.

  Enough. It needs to go.

  I flip her onto her stomach, and continue my journey of kisses up her body: the backs of her legs, her thighs, her backside. And for a moment I contemplate all that I want to do to her ass.

  Ana protests. “Please.”

  “I want you naked,” I murmur, and unhook her corset, one hook at a time, at a languid pace. Once it’s off, I plant a soft, wet kiss at the base of her spine, then trail my tongue up the length of her backbone.

  Ana wriggles. “Christian, please.”

  I’m leaning over her, my constrained cock resting against her ass, and she wriggles against me. “What do you want, Mrs. Grey?” I utter the words just beneath her ear.

  “You.”

  “And I you, my love, my life.” I undo my pants, kneel up beside her, and turn her onto her back. Standing, I dispense with my pants and underwear while Ana regards me, wide-eyed and wanting. I grasp her panties and whisk them off so that she’s naked in all her glory beneath me.

  “Mine,” I mouth.

  “Please,” Ana implores me.

  I can’t help my grin. Oh, baby. I love it when you beg.

  Crawling onto the bed, I lay a new path of wet kisses up her other leg, getting closer and closer to the top of her thighs. My objective. The sacred apex. When I reach my goal, I push her legs wider apart. She’s wet and wanting. Just how I like her. “Ah, wife of mine,” I whisper, and I run my tongue over her, tasting her and pinpointing her clitoris.

  Hmm… Slowly, I begin to torture her with my mouth. Round and round, my tongue teases her oh-so-sensitive bud. Ana grabs my hair and writhes underneath me, her hips moving in a rhythm I know so well. She bucks once. But I hold her still and continue my sweet torment.

  “Christian,” she calls, and tugs at my hair.

  She’s close.

  “Not yet.” I move up her body, dipping my tongue in her navel.

  “No!” she cries out in frustration, and I grin against her belly.

  All in good time, my love.

  I kiss her soft stomach. “So impatient, Mrs. Grey. We have until we touch down on the Emerald Isle.”


  When I reach her breasts, I worship each with tender kisses, and take a nipple between my lips and tug. I watch her as I lavish my attention on it; her eyes are dark and her mouth slack. “Husband, I want you. Please.”

  And I want you.

  I cover her body with mine, resting my weight on my elbows, and run my nose down hers. Her hands are on me.

  My shoulders.

  My back.

  My backside.

  “Mrs. Grey. Wife. We aim to please.” I brush my lips over hers. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She’s pushing her hips up for me.

  “Eyes open. I want to see you.”

  Her eyes are a startling blue.

  “Christian. Ah,” she calls out, as I slowly claim her, inch by inch.

  “Ana, oh, Ana,” I breathe. Her name is a prayer.

  She is heaven. My heaven.

  I start to move, relishing the feel of her.

  Her fingernails dig into my butt and it drives me on.

  And on.

  And on.

  She’s mine.

  She’s really mine.

  Finally, she cries out my name and falls apart beneath me, her climax triggering mine, and I come and come inside my love. My life. My wife.

  Tuesday, August 16, 2011

  It’s the sound of the sea lapping against the hull of M.Y. Fair Lady that wakes me. The crew are on deck; I hear them, no doubt shining the brass and making their preparations for the day. We are moored in the bay outside Monte Carlo harbor. It’s a blissful summer’s morning in the Mediterranean, and beside me, Mrs. Anastasia Grey is fast asleep. I turn onto my side and study her, as I have done most mornings since we started our honeymoon. She is sun-kissed. Her hair is a little lighter. Her lips are parted, and she sleeps soundly.

  As she should.

  I smirk at the memory.

  It was a late night. And she came and came and came.

  She looks so serene; I envy her that.

  Though I have to confess, I’ve relaxed a little.

  There’s been the occasional call from Ros and from Marco after the drama of last week’s Black Monday. Marco and I avoided any substantial losses with some last-minute repositioning into defensive assets. We’re both keeping a watchful eye on the markets and liaising on a strategy to survive the downturn.