by James, E L
She tenses. But she doesn’t stop me, so I skim my finger over her perineum and slowly ease it into her vagina.
Sweet. Heaven.
“I see you’re very wet, Anastasia. From earlier or from now?”
She groans as I slip my finger in and out and she pushes back against my hand, wanting more. “Oh, Ana, I think it’s both.” My fingers move back and forth. “I think you love being here. Like this. Mine.”
She moans, and I withdraw my finger and smack her fine ass once more.
“Ah.”
“Tell me.” My voice is hoarse with my passion.
“Yes, I do,” she whispers. I spank her again and she cries out, then I slide two fingers inside her and twist them once around to lubricate them. When I withdraw, I spread her essence up, and over and around her anus.
She tenses a little, once more. “What are you going to do?”
“It’s not what you think,” I reassure her. “I told you, one step at a time with this, baby.” I reach for the lube and squirt a generous amount on my fingers, then massage it around her small, puckered hole. She squirms, her back rising and falling more rapidly with her accelerated breathing. Her lips part. She’s excited. I smack her hard, aiming slightly lower, so my fingertips strike her labia that’s soaked from her passion.
She moans and wiggles her ass, begging for more.
“Keep still,” I order. “And don’t let go.” I squirt more lube on my fingers.
“Ah.”
“This is lube.” I spread some more over and around her anus. “I have wanted to do this to you for some time now, Ana.” I grab the small, metal butt plug.
She groans and I drag the plug slowly down her spine. “I have a small present for you here,” I whisper, and slide it down between her buttocks. “I am going to push this inside you, very slowly.”
She inhales, breathless. “Will it hurt?”
“No, baby. It’s small. Once it’s inside you, I’m going to fuck you real hard.”
Her lips part and she quivers. Leaning over her, I kiss her once again between her shoulder blades.
“Ready?”
Because I am.
My cock is almost bursting.
“Yes,” she breathes.
With the plug in my left hand, I quickly coat it in lube, then skim my right thumb down between her buttocks, over her anus, and sink it into her vagina, circling inside her. My fingers brush against her clitoris, slowly, methodically taunting her eager bud while I move my thumb. She groans loudly with pleasure. And that’s my cue. Very slowly, I push the plug into her ass.
“Ah!” she moans.
I’m met with a little resistance, so I circle my thumb inside her vagina, teasing the sweet spot inside her with the tip of my thumb, and push harder on the plug. Joy of joys, it slips inside her. Easily.
“Oh, baby.” I swirl my thumb inside her again and feel the weight of the plug inside her butt. Slowly, I twist the plug, and Ana mewls, a strange sound of pure pleasure.
Whoa.
“Christian,” she whimpers, lewd and needy, and I withdraw my thumb.
She’s breathless.
“Good girl,” I murmur. Leaving the plug in its place, I trace my fingers down her side until I reach her hip. Undoing my fly and freeing my dick, I grasp her hips with both hands, and pull her ass toward me. With my foot, I force her to widen her stance. “Don’t let go of the table, Ana.”
“No,” she pants.
“Something rough? Tell me if I’m too rough. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers. And in one swift move, I yank her toward me and slam inside her, to the hilt.
“Fuck!” she cries.
And I still, relishing the feel of my girl around me.
She’s doing good, her breathing as harsh as mine. I reach between us and gently tug on the plug.
She lets out a breathtaking moan of pleasure.
It almost tips me over the edge.
“Again?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she says, and she sounds desperate, begging for more.
“Stay flat,” I insist, and ease out of her, then slam into her again.
“Yes,” she hisses with loud, sibilant fervor. I pick up the pace, slamming inside her with a wild abandon that’s exhilarating.
It’s never felt like this.
Taking Ana to a darker side.
I fucking love it.
“Oh, Ana,” I pant, and twist the plug around again.
She cries out as I keep rocking into her. Taking her. Consuming her. Owning her.
“Oh, fuck,” she cries.
And I know she’s close.
“Yes, baby,” I whisper.
“Please,” she begs.
“That’s right.”
You goddess, Ana.
I slap her hard and she lets go, screaming out loud and proud as she’s gripped by her orgasm. I tug the plug out and toss it in the bowl.
“Fuck!” she screams, and I tighten my hold on her hips and let go, holding her to me and losing myself in my release.
I sag over her, spent but elated. Pulling her into my arms, I sink to the floor, curling her into my embrace as I catch my breath. She’s gulping in air, her head resting on my chest.
“Welcome back,” I say, removing the blindfold. She blinks, a little dazed, as her eyes adjust to the muted light. She looks okay. I tip her head back and press my lips to hers, anxiously trying to gauge how she’s feeling.
Reaching up, she strokes my face.
I smile with relief. “Well, did I fulfill the brief?” I ask.
Her brow creases. “Brief?”
“You wanted rough.” My tone is cautious.
Her face brightens. “Yes. I think you did.”
Her words wrap around my soul. “I’m very glad to hear it. You look thoroughly well fucked and beautiful at this moment.” I caress her cheek.
“I feel it,” she hums. Holding her face, I kiss her with all the tenderness that she deserves. Because I love her.
“You never disappoint.” Ever. “How do you feel?” I breathe.
“Good,” she whispers and a telltale flush crosses her face. “Thoroughly well fucked.” Her smile is shy and sweet and telling. And totally at odds with her profanity.
“Why, Mrs. Grey, you have a dirty, dirty mouth.”
“That’s because I’m married to a dirty, dirty boy, Mr. Grey.”
I can’t argue with that.
And I’m buoyant, grinning back at her. I must resemble the Cheshire Cat. “I’m glad you’re married to him.” My fingers grasp her braid, and I lift the end to my lips and kiss it. I love you, Ana. Never leave me.
She reaches for my left hand and, raising it to her lips, kisses my wedding ring. “Mine,” she whispers.
“Yours,” I answer, and I tighten my hold on her and drive my nose in her hair. “Shall I run you a bath?”
“Hmm. Only if you join me in it.”
“Okay.” I help Ana to her feet and stand up.
She points to the jeans I’m still wearing. “Will you wear your, er, other jeans?”
“Other jeans?”
“The ones you used to wear in here.”
“Those jeans?” My Dom jeans. The DJs.
“You look very hot in them.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. I mean, really hot.”
How could I refuse? I want to look hot for my wife.
“Well, for you, Mrs. Grey, maybe I will.” I kiss her and grab the small bowl that contains our afternoon’s entertainment, and I walk over to the chest of drawers to switch off the music.
“Who cleans these toys?” Ana asks.
Oh. Ah. “Me. Mrs. Jones.”
“What?” Ana gasps in shock.
Yep. Gail knows ev
erything, all my dirty little secrets, and she still works for me.
Ana is still gaping at me as if she expects more information. I switch off the iPod. “Well. Um—”
“Your subs used to do it?” Ana says, finally figuring it out.
All I have is an apologetic shrug. “Here.” I offer her my shirt and she dons it quickly, and says no more about toy-cleaning. I leave our stuff on the chest and, taking Ana’s hand, unlock the playroom door, and we head downstairs to our bathroom. She pauses on the threshold, yawns and stretches, a secret smile etched on her face.
“What is it?” I ask, turning on the faucets.
Ana shakes her head, avoiding eye contact.
Is she feeling shy all of a sudden?
“Tell me,” I coax, as I pour bath oil into the running water.
Her cheeks develop a rosy flush. “I just feel better.”
“Yes, you’ve been in a strange mood today, Mrs. Grey.” I embrace her. “I know you’re worrying about these recent events. I’m sorry you’re caught up in them. I don’t know if it’s a vendetta, an ex-employee, or a business rival. If anything were to happen to you because of me—” The horrific image, of her lying in place of the crack whore, haunts me.
Stop, Grey. Stop.
She hugs me. “What if something happens to you, Christian?” She sounds bleak.
“We’ll figure this out. Now let’s get you out of this shirt and into this bath.”
“Shouldn’t you talk to Sawyer?”
“He can wait.” My tone is clipped; I have a few choice words for him.
I slip my shirt off Ana.
Shit. The marks I left on her body are still there. Faded. But still present, reminding me that I’m an asshole.
“I wonder if Ryan has caught up with the Dodge?” Ana says, and I know she’s ignoring my reaction.
“We’ll see, after this bath. Get in.” I offer her my hand, and she steps into the foam-filled tub. Gingerly, she sits down.
“Ow.” She winces as her ass hits the hot water.
“Easy, baby,” I whisper, but she smiles when she settles, submerged in the water. I strip out of my jeans and join her, sinking down behind her and gathering her to my chest.
Slowly I let myself relax.
Be in the moment, Grey.
That was really something.
Ana did so well. I nuzzle her hair and marvel at how easy it is to just be in her company. I don’t have to talk; she doesn’t have to talk. We can just lie and unwind in a bath together.
I close my eyes and reflect on the day.
What a crazy end to our honeymoon.
A car chase, which Ana handled brilliantly, like a pro.
I run the end of her braid through my fingers, absently.
And she let me have fun in the playroom, doing something I’ve wanted to do forever, and she’s never done before.
My girl. My beautiful girl.
A few moments later, I remember that Gia Matteo will be joining us tomorrow evening. I break the comfortable silence between us. “We need to go over the plans for the new house. Later this evening?”
“Sure,” Ana responds, and she sounds resigned. “I must get my things ready for work,” she adds.
Her braid slips through my fingers. “You know you don’t have to go back to work.”
Ana’s shoulders tense against me. “Christian, we’ve been through this. Please don’t resurrect that argument.”
Okay. I gently tug her braid, slanting her face toward me. “Just saying.” I brush my lips over hers.
Leaving Ana to soak a little longer in the bath, I get dressed and wander through to my study for Sawyer’s debrief. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen.
“Evening, Gail.”
“Mr. Grey. Welcome home, and congratulations once again.”
“Thank you. Your sister okay?”
“All good, sir. Would you like anything?”
“No, thanks. I have some work to do.”
“Mrs. Grey?”
I grin. “She’s in the bath.”
Gail smiles and nods. “I’ll ask her when she’s out, sir.”
At my desk, I check my e-mails. Then buzz Sawyer. A moment later there’s a brisk knock at my door.
“Come in.”
Sawyer enters and stands before me, looking cool, calm, and professional in his suit and tie. His demeanor makes me so mad. Slowly, I get up from my desk and, placing both hands on it, lean toward him. “Where the fuck were you?” I shout.
He takes a small step back, surprised by my outburst.
“What the hell were you doing that you weren’t ready to leave when we were?” I fold my arms, keeping a rein on my temper.
“Mr. Grey.” He holds up his hands. “We were patrolling the grounds, like you asked us to do. And we didn’t know you were leaving.”
Oh.
“Also,” he adds, getting into his stride, “I’d noticed the unsub. It arrived while we were out patrolling and I was going to investigate, when you came out of the house.”
Ah.
I sigh, somewhat mollified. “I see. Okay.” I should have told them we were leaving. And I know if Taylor had been with us, he would have left his colleague in the car.
“And Mrs. Grey set off at one hell of a pace.” He raises a disapproving eyebrow.
I want to laugh at his response. I feel his pain, but I remain impassive. “She did,” I admit. “Though you should have caught up. You’re both trained in defensive driving.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.” He looks a little contrite. “Sir,” he says. “The unsub didn’t follow us. He or she arrived shortly before you were leaving. I logged the exact time I noticed the car. It was 14:53 and they did not exit the vehicle. They knew where you were.”
I pale. “What does that mean?”
“That someone could be watching your parents’ house, sir. Or watching us here. Though I think we would have noticed if we were followed to Bellevue.”
“Shit.”
“Precisely. I’ve written a report for you and forwarded it to Taylor and Mr. Welch.”
“I’ll read it. Where’s Ryan?”
“He’s still on the road to Portland.”
“Still?”
“Yes. Let’s hope the unsub runs out of gas,” Sawyer says.
“Why do you think the driver’s a woman?” I ask.
“From the brief glimpse I got, I thought their hair was tied back.”
“That’s not definitive.”
“No, sir.”
“Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
“Thank you, Luke. You can go.”
He turns without a word and leaves my study while I sit back down at my desk, relieved that I don’t have to fire him or Ryan, though I’ll be glad when Taylor’s back with us tomorrow evening. I contemplate Sawyer’s theory; perhaps someone is watching my parents’ place. But why? I should call my father, but I don’t want to worry him, or my mother.
Shit. What to do?
My iMac has been nagging me about the latest update to its operating system, so I decide to install it, and open my laptop to check my e-mails and Sawyer’s report.
I’m reading when my phone buzzes.
“Barney,” I answer, surprised that he’s contacting me on a Sunday.
“Welcome home, Mr. Grey.”
“Thank you. What is it?”
“I’ve been going through the CCTV footage in the server room and I’ve uncovered something.”
“You have?”
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to share it with you. I hope you don’t mind. But I figured you’d want to know. I’ll e-mail you a link and you can take a look yourself.”
“You figured right. E-mail it to me now.”
“Doing it.”
“Will you stay on the line?”
“Yes, sir. I’m anxious for you to see it.”
I smile. Barney is protective of his server room. I bet he’s as pissed as I am by the unwelcome breach. His e-mail pops into my inbox; I open it and click on the link and I’m taken to a site I’ve not seen before. There are four different boxes that look like they might be monochrome views of my server room at Grey House. “Barney, you there?”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.”
“What am I looking at?”
“This is the GEH security hub. If you click the play button in the menu on the left-hand side of the screen at the top, the footage from all the cameras within the server room will play.” I do as I’m asked, and the footage plays four different views of the room. At the bottom center of each feed there’s a date with a timer. It reads 08/10/11 07:03:10:05 and the milliseconds on the clock fly by. Via these four views, I watch a tall, slim man enter the room. He has scruffy dark hair and he’s in pale, possibly white, coveralls. He walks to one of the servers, bends to the floor, and places a small black item that’s hard to identify between two of the server cabinets. He stands and glances down at his handiwork, then, keeping his face fixed on the door, leaves.
“This is him?”
“I believe so, sir. It’s not anyone we can identify. And that’s where the incendiary device was found.”
“That’s over a week ago. How the fuck did he get in there?”
“The pass that correlates to that time of entry to the server room was issued to the cleaning crew.”
“What?” How the hell did he get ahold of that?
“Exactly. We’ll have to check that out tomorrow.” The footage freezes.
“Did you just stop the feeds?” I ask.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you put these in a sequence?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Quickly?”
“I can do it now.”
“Has Welch seen this?”
“His team notified me of it. They’ve been combing the footage.”
“Good.”
A moment or so later my screen changes so I’m only looking at one feed. I press play again, and this time the sequence is longer, cutting between views. Each time one view finishes, I press play for the next.