by James, E L
Ana pales.
Yes, Ana. You’d be mortified. Ray would be furious. And he’d probably blame me!
Greg arrives with our drinks and places them on the table.
“Sit,” I order, and Ana sits down in one of the director’s chairs. Dismissing the steward with a smile, I take a seat beside her, hand her a drink, and pick up my own. “Cheers, Mrs. Grey.”
“Cheers, Mr. Grey.” She takes a sip, watching me carefully.
What am I going to do with her?
Some kinky fuckery. I think.
It’s been a while.
“Who owns this boat?” she asks, distracting me from my salacious plans.
“A British knight. Sir Somebody-or-Other. His great-grandfather started a grocery store. His daughter is married to one of the crown princes of Europe.”
“Wow!” Ana mouths. “Super-rich?”
“Yes.”
“Like you.”
“Yes. And like you.” I take an olive.
“It’s odd,” she says. “Going from nothing to”—she waves at the deck and the fabulous view of Monte Carlo—“to everything.”
“You’ll get used to it.” I have.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” she answers, her voice low.
Taylor appears at my right. “Sir, you have a call.” He hands me my phone.
“Grey,” I snap as I rise from my seat and walk to the rail.
It’s Ros.
Again?
She’s following up on the meeting I had in London with the European GNSS agency about their Galileo Satellite Navigation. I’m hoping we can incorporate their service into Barney’s solar tablet. I answer her queries, surprised that she didn’t ask me all this earlier.
“Thanks. I’ll let Marco know,” she says.
“You know, you could have e-mailed me.”
“I will next time. Barney’s persistent. He’s just sent me another e-mail about this. You know.” She laughs, a little embarrassed, I think.
I chuckle in response. “He’s eager. I know. That’s why he works with us, thank goodness. Is that it? Because I’d really like to get back to my wife.”
“You do that, Christian. Thank you. I’ll try not to bother you again. Good-bye.”
I turn my attention to Ana, who’s sipping her gin and tonic and staring at the coastline with a faraway look. She’s deep in thought.
What is she thinking about? Going topless? Punishment fucks? My wealth? Our wealth!
I hazard a guess. “You will get used to it,” I say as I sit down beside her once more.
“Used to it?”
“The money.”
She shoots me an unreadable look and pushes the dish of almonds and cashews toward me. “You’re nuts, sir.” I notice her half smile. She’s trying not to laugh. At me. Again.
My plan crystalizes in my mind. “I’m nuts about you.”
And that’s the truth.
I take a cashew as I recall that night after her bachelorette party: Ana in bed, naked, holding out her hands to me.
“Are you going to punish me?”
“Punish you?”
“For getting this drunk. A punishment fuck. You can do anything you want to me.”
The thought stirs my blood. She wants punishing. It would be rude of me not to oblige. “Drink up. We’re going to bed.”
She gapes at me.
“Drink,” I tell her, quietly.
Ana raises her glass to her lips and drains it in one long gulp.
Wow. Without hesitating, my courageous girl has picked up the gauntlet.
She never backs down.
Game on, Grey.
Standing up, I lean over, resting my hands on the arms of her director’s chair, and murmur against her ear, “I’m going to make an example of you. Come. Don’t pee.”
Her gasp is gratifying, and her face is a picture of shock.
I smirk, knowing where her mind has gone.
No, Ana, don’t sweat it, that’s not my scene.
“It’s not what you think.” I hold out my hand. “Trust me?”
Her lips lift in a come-hither smile. “Okay.” She places her hand in mine, and together we make our way to the master cabin.
Once inside, I release Ana and lock the door. We don’t want to be disturbed. Quickly, I strip out of my clothes and remove my flip-flops, which I shouldn’t be wearing anyway, but the crew are too polite to tell me.
Ana is watching me, wide-eyed, unconsciously chewing her bottom lip. I grasp her chin, freeing her plump lower lip, and skim my thumb over the little indentations her teeth have left. “That’s better.”
From inside the armoire I retrieve my bag of toys and produce two pairs of ankle-to-wrist cuffs, the key for them, and an eye mask. Ana hasn’t moved. Her eyes are darker than before.
She’s turned on, Grey.
Let’s blow her mind.
“These can be quite painful.” I hold up a pair so that she has a better view of them. “They can bite into the skin if you pull too hard. But I really want to use them on you now. Here.” I step toward her and hand her one set. “Do you want to try them first?” I keep my voice gentle, while trying to keep a grip on my libido.
I want this.
Big-time.
Ana examines the cuffs, turning the cold metal over in her hand. The sight of her handling them is erotic enough. “Where are the keys?” she asks, her voice wavering.
I open the palm of my hand, revealing the key. “This does both sets. In fact, all sets.” She looks from my palm to my face, her eyes full of questions, full of curiosity…full of yearning. I caress her cheek with my index finger, trailing it down to her mouth and across her lips. Leaning in, as if to kiss her, I breathe, “Do you want to play?”
“Yes,” she answers almost inaudibly.
“Good.” I take a deep breath, inhaling her unique scent: Ana and a hint of her arousal.
Already!
Closing my eyes, I pour my gratitude into the gentle kiss I plant on her forehead.
Thank you for this, my love.
“We’re going to need a safe word.”
Ana shoots her eyes to mine.
“Stop won’t be enough,” I continue hastily, “because you will probably say that, but you won’t mean it.” I run my nose down hers.
Trust me, Ana.
“This is not going to hurt. It will be intense. Very intense, because I am not going to let you move. Okay?”
She inhales sharply, her breathing labored as her excitement builds.
I love turning you on, baby.
Her eyes drift down to my cock.
Yeah, baby. I’m ready and waiting.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Choose a word, Ana.”
A soft furrow puckers her brow.
“A safe word,” I clarify.
“Popsicle,” she blurts, breathy and flustered.
“Popsicle?” I want to laugh.
“Yes.”
“Interesting choice. Lift up your arms.”
She does as she’s told—which turns me on, too—and I raise her dress over her head, discarding it on the floor. Holding out my palm, she surrenders the handcuffs, and I place those and the other cuffs, key, and blindfold on the nightstand. I yank the quilt off the bed and let it fall to the floor.
“Turn around,” I order.
She complies immediately, and I undo her bikini top, letting it fall to the floor. “Tomorrow, I will staple this to you,” I mutter, and a kernel of an idea sprouts in my mind.
Love-bites.
I free her hair from its ponytail and gather it in my hand, tugging gently so she’s forced to step back against me. Angling her head to one side, I glide my lips from her shoulder to her ear. “You were very disobed
ient.”
“Yes,” she says, as if she’s proud of herself.
“Hmm. What are we going to do about that?” She tastes exquisite.
“Learn to live with it?” she counters, and I grin against the pulse point beneath her ear.
No backing down from my girl.
God, she’s hot.
“Ah, Mrs. Grey. You are ever the optimist.” I kiss her neck once more, then set to braiding her hair. Once it’s done, I use her hair tie to finish up. Tugging her head to the side once more, I whisper in her ear, “I am going to teach you a lesson.” Abruptly, I grab her around the waist and sit down on the bed, pulling her over my knee. I smack her beautiful behind. Once. Hard. Then toss her, faceup, onto the bed. Leaning over her, I run my fingertips up her thigh as we drink each other in.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” I whisper, as she squirms on the bed, panting.
Waiting.
Her eyes dark with longing.
Keeping my gaze on her, I stand and reach for the cuffs. I grasp her left ankle and cuff it with one set of the cuffs. I take the other set and fasten a cuff to her right ankle. “Sit up.”
She does.
“Now hug your knees.”
With a quizzical look at me, she draws her legs up and wraps her arms around her knees. Reaching down, I lift her chin and brush her lips with a soft, wet kiss before slipping the eye mask over her eyes.
“What’s the safe word, Anastasia?”
“Popsicle.”
“Good.” I snap the left cuff on around her left wrist, and the one attached to her right ankle around her right wrist. She yanks on both and realizes she’s unable to straighten her legs.
This is going to be intense.
For you. And for me.
“Now,” I whisper. “I’m going to fuck you till you scream.”
And I can’t wait.
She gasps, and I grab both her heels and tip her feet up so she falls backward onto the bed. I ease her ankles apart, and for a moment I enjoy the sight of her, open and helpless before me. Frankly, I could come over her right now. I’m tempted to. But I kneel down at her altar, and kiss my way up her inner thigh. She moans, pulling on the cuffs.
Careful, Ana. They will bite you.
“You’re going to have to absorb all the pleasure, Anastasia. No moving.” I shift so I can reach her bikini briefs, and run my lips over her taut belly. The string fastenings on both sides unravel with a simple tug, and her briefs are no more.
I kiss her belly, my tongue dipping into her navel.
“Ah!” Ana groans. Her breasts rise and fall rapidly, as I continue with my trail of wet kisses across her stomach.
“Shh,” I murmur. “You’re so beautiful, Ana.”
She moans, louder this time, and tugs against her metal restraints. “Argh!” she cries as she feels the bite of the cuffs while I continue my conquest of her body, kissing and grazing my teeth against her fragrant skin.
“You drive me crazy,” I whisper. “So I’m going to drive you crazy.” I kiss her breasts, my tongue, my lips, and my teeth provoking Ana’s passionate cries, her heavy breathing, her head thrashing from side to side. I roll each of her nipples between a thumb and forefinger and feel them harden and lengthen under my not-so-tender ministration. I suck hard around each nipple, leaving a telltale little mark each time.
She’s breathless now.
Trying to move.
She can’t.
She’s mine.
And I don’t stop.
“Christian,” she pleads, and I know I’m driving her crazy.
“Shall I make you come this way?” I blow on her nipple. “You know I can.” I take it in my mouth, sucking. Hard.
She cries out, a guttural cry of pleasure.
And I’m fully aroused.
Straining to be inside her.
“Yes,” she whimpers.
“Oh, baby, that would be too easy.”
“Oh, please.”
“Hush.” My teeth graze her chin, then I capture her mouth with mine, thrusting my tongue between her lips to meet hers. She tastes of Ana and fresh gin and tonic with a hint of lemon.
Delicious.
But she’s greedy. Kissing me back. Wanting more. And more.
Fuck. She tastes so good. She gives as good as she takes. Her head lifting off the sheets.
Oh, baby.
I release her lips and grasp her chin. “Still, baby. I want you still,” I whisper.
“I want to see you,” she breathes, desperate and needy.
“Oh, no, Ana. You’ll feel more this way.” I ease my hips forward, knowing we’re lined up, and ease my way inside her, just a little.
She can’t move.
And I ease back, teasing her.
“Ah! Christian, please!”
“Again?” I ask, and I don’t recognize my own voice.
“Christian!”
I push myself into her again, a little farther this time, but pull back and let my fingers tease her right nipple.
“No!” she wails in disappointment. She does not want me to withdraw.
“Do you want me, Anastasia?”
“Yes!” she cries.
“Tell me.” My voice is hoarse. I need to hear her say it, and I tease her with my cock once more. In. Out.
“I want you,” she whimpers. “Please.”
I love it when she begs.
“And have me you will, Anastasia.” I slam into her and she screams, pulling against the cuffs.
I know she’s helpless.
And I take full advantage. Stilling. Feeling her around me, then circling my hips. She groans.
“Why do you defy me, Ana?”
“Christian, stop.”
It’s not the safe word. I circle my hips once more, deep, deep inside her. Then pull out and slam into her once more.
Don’t come! I will myself. “Tell me. Why?” I need to know.
She cries out, and her pleasure is my pleasure.
“Tell me,” I plead.
“Christian!”
“Ana, I need to know.” I thrust into her once more.
Tell me. Please.
“I don’t know!” she wails. “Because I can! Because I love you! Please, Christian.”
I groan loudly, and finally let myself love her, cocooning her head beneath my hands as I claim her. Pleasure her. And pleasure myself. She’s fighting against the cuffs. Gasping. Keening. Building beneath me.
She’s close. I feel it.
She cries out.
“That’s it,” I grind out between gritted teeth. “Feel it, baby!”
Ana screams as she comes. And comes. And comes. Shattering beneath me. Her head back. Her mouth open. Her face screwed up. I kneel up, taking her with me, pulling her into my lap. Riding out her climax. Holding her tightly, burying my head against her neck as I let go.
FUCK!
My orgasm is relentless.
When I’m finally spent, I rip off her blindfold and kiss my wife.
Her eyelids. Her nose. Her cheeks.
Thank you, Ana.
She’s crying. I kiss the tracks of her tears while I cup her face. “I love you, Mrs. Grey,” I whisper. “Even though you make me so mad—I feel so alive with you.”
She’s exhausted—listless in my arms—so I lay her down on the bed and ease out of her. “No,” she mumbles, feeling the loss of contact, I think.
Oh, baby.
You’re so done.
From the nightstand I grab the key and release her from each of the cuffs, rubbing her wrists and ankles as I do. I lay down beside her as she stretches out her legs, and wrap her in my arms. She sighs, a small, satisfied smile on her lips, and her breathing slows. She’s gone to sleep. I kiss her hair and cover
us both.
Boy, that was intense for me, too.
Ana. What you do to me.
I wake fifteen minutes later from my doze. Ana is still in my arms, sleeping soundly. I kiss her forehead, untangle myself from her limbs, and get up to use the bathroom. She’s still out for the count when I return from my shower. I dress quickly, unlock the cabin door, and head up on deck to find the captain to discuss staying on board this evening.
She’s still asleep when I return. I put away the cuffs and grab my laptop to check through my e-mails, and also check on the brownfield sites in Detroit, just to make sure that I made the correct call with Ros earlier.
On deck and around the boat, the crew ready the Fair Lady. I hear the loud clanking of the anchor as it’s winched on board and the distant rumble of the engines as they’re fired up. We’re setting sail.
Dusk has been and gone and it’s dark outside when Ana stirs.
“Hi,” I murmur, eager to see her. I’ve missed you while you were sleeping.
“Hi.” Her voice is hesitant, and she pulls the cover up to her chin.
Has she gone all shy on me?
“How long have I been asleep?” she asks.
“Just an hour or so.”
“We’re moving?”
“I figured since we ate out last night, and went to the ballet and the casino, that we’d dine on board tonight. A quiet night à deux.”
She grins—relieved, I think, to be spending the evening on board. “Where are we going?”
“Cannes.”
“Okay.” She stretches out beside me, then gets up, grabs her robe, and slips it on.
Shit.
She has a few love-bites. It’s what I planned, but now, seeing the purple blotches on her skin, I’m not so sure it was a good idea.
This could go either way.
She ambles into the en suite bathroom and closes the door.
Hours. Minutes. Seconds. I don’t know how long she’s in there, but it takes forever. Eventually, she appears, but deliberately—it seems—she avoids eye contact with me as she darts into the closet.
This does not look good.
Maybe she’s just tired.
I wait. Again.
She’s in there for too long.
I can’t bear it. “Anastasia, are you okay?”
No answer.
Damn.
Suddenly, she bursts out of the closet, a blur of arms and hair, and hurls a hairbrush at me. Shit. I raise my arm in time to protect my head, and the hairbrush smacks me below my wrist. Ana storms out of the room and slams the cabin door.