Freed

by James, E L

  She opens her arms and twirls for me.

  “God, I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” I whisper in awe.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Put my shirt on and you can cut my hair. Like this, you’ll distract me, and we’ll never get to bed.”

  Her wicked smile is sexy. What is she planning? I zip up my pants as she waltzes over to where my shirt lies on the floor, her hips swaying in a sensual rhythm. She bends from her waist, in a pose worthy of Penthouse magazine, leaving nothing to my imagination, collects my shirt, smells it, then, with a coy glance at me, shrugs it on.

  Down, boy.

  “That’s quite a floor show, Mrs. Grey.”

  “Do we have any scissors?” she asks, wearing my shirt and a cheeky smile.

  “My study.” My voice is hoarse.

  “I’ll go search.” She prances out of the bathroom, leaving me with a semi-hard-on.

  Mrs. Mrs. Mrs. Grey.

  While Ana is finding scissors, I collect her clothes, fold them, and place them on the vanity. I glance at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the man staring back at me.

  Giving up a little control in matters sexual with Ana, is extremely satisfying.

  I like frantic Ana.

  And greedy Ana.

  I love that she loves my dick.

  Yes. Especially that.

  And she’s agreed to be Mrs. Grey in name, too.

  I’d call that a good result.

  We just have to get better at communicating with each other.

  Communicate and compromise.

  Ana dashes into the bathroom, catching her breath.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I just ran into Taylor.”

  “Oh.” I frown. “Dressed like that?”

  Ana’s eyes widen in alarm at my expression. “That’s not Taylor’s fault,” she says quickly.

  “No. But still.” I don’t want anyone eyeing my nearly naked wife.

  “I’m dressed.”

  “Barely.”

  “I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me or him.”

  I bet. Poor Taylor. Or lucky Taylor. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I remember the bikini-top incident and push that quickly from my mind.

  “Did you know he and Gail are, well, together?” she says, sounding a little shocked.

  I laugh. “Yes, of course I knew.”

  “And you never told me?”

  “I thought you knew, too.”

  “No.”

  “Ana, they’re adults. They live under the same roof. Both unattached. Both attractive.”

  She blushes. Why, I don’t know. I’m glad they have each other.

  “Well, if you put it like that,” she mutters. “I just thought Gail was older than Taylor.”

  “She is, but not by much. Some men like older women—”

  Shit.

  “I know that,” Ana snaps, scowling.

  Shit. Why did I say that? Will Elena always loom over and between us?

  “That reminds me,” I change the subject.

  “What?” Ana sounds sulky. She takes the chair and turns it so it faces the sinks. “Sit,” she orders.

  My bossy wife.

  I do as I’m told, trying to hide my amusement.

  See. I can behave.

  “I was thinking we could convert the rooms over the garages for them at the new place,” I say. “Make it a home. Then maybe Taylor’s daughter could stay with him more often.” I watch Ana’s reaction in the mirror as she combs my hair.

  She frowns. “Why doesn’t she stay here?”

  “Taylor’s never asked me.”

  “Perhaps you should offer. But we’d have to behave ourselves.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Kids. They ruin all the fun.

  “Perhaps that’s why Taylor hasn’t asked. Have you met her?”

  “Yes. She’s a sweet thing. Shy. Very pretty. I pay for her schooling.”

  Ana stops combing my hair, and our eyes meet in the mirror. “I had no idea.”

  I shrug it off. “Seemed the least I could do. Also, it means he won’t quit.”

  “I’m sure he likes working for you.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think he’s very fond of you, Christian.” She runs the comb through my hair again. It feels nice.

  “You think?” I ask. It’s never crossed my mind.

  “Yes. I do.”

  Well, how about that? I have enormous respect for Taylor. I’d like him to stay working for me—for us, indefinitely. I trust him. “Good. Will you talk to Gia about the rooms over the garage?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her lips curl in a secret smile, and I wonder what she’s thinking about. She glances at me in the mirror. “You sure about this? Your last chance to bail.”

  “Do your worst, Mrs. Grey. I don’t have to look at me, you do.”

  Her smile illuminates the room. “Christian, I could look at you all day.”

  I shake my head. “It’s just a pretty face, baby.”

  “And behind it is a very pretty man.” She kisses my temple. “My man.”

  Her man.

  I like that.

  I sit still and let her work. Her tongue escapes between her teeth while she concentrates. It’s cute and arousing, so I close my eyes, and think back to our honeymoon, enjoying the many memories we made. Occasionally, I crack open an eyelid to take a quick peek at her.

  “Finished,” she announces. I open my eyes and check her handiwork.

  It’s a haircut. And it looks fine.

  “Great job, Mrs. Grey.” I pull her to me and nuzzle her belly. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” She gives me a quick kiss.

  “It’s late. Bed.” I smack her behind, because she’s waving it in front of me and it’s too tempting.

  “Ah! I should clean up in here,” she exclaims.

  There are small clumps of my hair all over the floor. “Okay, I’ll get the broom,” I mutter, and stand up. “I don’t want you embarrassing the staff with your lack of appropriate attire.”

  “Do you know where the broom is?”

  I stare at Ana. “Um, no.”

  She laughs. “I’ll go.” And with a quick grin, she sashays out of the bathroom.

  How do I not know where the broom is?

  I turn to the sink and check my hair again. Ana’s done a good job. It looks fine. Smiling, impressed by her handiwork, I reach for my toothbrush.

  Ana is laughing to herself when I join her in bed.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Just an idea.”

  “What idea?” I turn on my side and watch her.

  “Christian, I don’t think I want to run a company.”

  I shift onto my elbow. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it’s not something that has ever appealed to me.”

  “You’re more than capable, Anastasia.”

  “I like to read books, Christian. Running a company will take me away from that.”

  “You could be the creative head.”

  She looks pensive, and I don’t know if she hates the idea or is considering it. I persist. “You see, running a successful company is all about embracing the talent of the individuals you have at your disposal. If that’s where your talents and your interests lie, then you structure the company to enable that. Don’t dismiss it out of hand, Anastasia. You’re a very capable woman. I think you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it.”

  She’s not convinced. “I’m also worried it will take up too much of my time.”

  I hadn’t considered that.

  “Time I could devote to you,” she murmurs.

  I see your game, Mrs. Grey. “I
know what you’re doing.”

  “What?”

  “You’re trying to distract me from the issue at hand. You always do that. Just don’t dismiss the idea, Ana. Think about it. That’s all I ask.” I plant a swift kiss on her lips and run my thumb down her cheek.

  You are so lovely.

  You are more than capable.

  “Can I ask you something?” Ana says.

  “Of course.”

  “Earlier today you said if I was angry with you, I should take it out on you in bed. What did you mean?”

  “What did you think I meant?” I ask.

  “That you wanted me to tie you up.”

  What? “Um…no. That’s not what I meant at all.” I just want some…resistance in bed.

  “Oh.” Ana looks disappointed.

  “You want to tie me up?” I ask.

  I’m not sure I could do that…not yet, anyway.

  Ana blushes. “Well.”

  “Ana, I—” That would mean complete loss of control, and total surrender. I offered that to her once before, and she didn’t want it. I’m not sure I could deal with that kind of rejection from her again. Besides, I’ve only just learned to tolerate—no, revel—in her touch. I don’t want to derail that.

  “Christian,” she whispers, and scrambles up so she’s facing me. She places her palm on my cheek. “Christian, stop. It doesn’t matter. I thought that’s what you meant.”

  Taking her hand, I place it on my chest, where beneath my skin and bone my heart is hammering with my anxiety. “Ana, I don’t know how I’d feel about you touching me if I were restrained.”

  Her eyes grow wider.

  “This is still too new.” I’m confessing my darkest fears to her again.

  Ana leans toward me, and I don’t know what she’s going to do, but she kisses the corner of my mouth. “Christian, I got the wrong idea. Please don’t worry about it. Please don’t think about it.” She kisses me again, and I close my eyes and kiss her back, hungrily. I grab the back of her head, holding her in place, and press her into the mattress, banishing my demons as I do.

  Tuesday, August 23, 2011

  Scarlet nails rake across my chest. I can’t move. I can’t see. I can only feel. You don’t like this, do you? I can’t speak. Silenced by the ball gag. Frantically I shake my head as the darkness slithers inside me, trying to crawl its way out, while her talons wreak their havoc on the outside. Hush, now. You’ll get your reward. The flogger strikes my chest, the small beads pinching my skin in a stinging rebuke that silences the darkness with pain. Sweat beads on my brow. Such beautiful skin. She hits me again. Lower. And I pull against the restraints as the flogger sings its song across my belly. Fuck. She’s going lower. The pain will be hard to take. I steel myself. Waiting. Ana stands over me. She’s caressing my face while wearing my fur glove. Her hand moves down my throat, across my chest, the fur sliding over my skin. Soothing. Quieting the darkness. Ana watches me, her hair mussed, her eyes shining with her love. Ana. Her hand moves lower to my belly and sweeps over my stomach with the softest caress. Then her fingers are in my hair.

  Opening my eyes, I find I’m wrapped around Ana like swaddling, my head on her chest. My gray eyes meet sparkling summer blue. “Hi,” I murmur, delighted to see her.

  “Hi.” My joy is mirrored in her face.

  Her satin nightgown is perfectly designed, revealing that special valley between her breasts. I kiss her there as the rest of my body wakes…fully. My hand skims over her hip. “What a tempting morsel you are,” I mutter. “But, tempting though you are”—the radio alarm reads 7:30—“I have to get up.” Reluctantly, I disentangle myself from my wife and climb out of bed. She puts her hands behind her head and watches me as I strip, teasing her top lip with her tongue.

  “Admiring the view, Mrs. Grey?”

  “It’s a mighty fine view, Mr. Grey.” Her mouth twists into a smug grin, so I throw my pajama pants at her.

  She catches them, giggling.

  To hell with work.

  I hoist the duvet off of her, kneel on the bed, and grab Ana’s ankles, drawing her toward me so that her nightgown rides up over her thighs, and up, and up, revealing my favorite place.

  She squeals. It’s a stimulating sound, and I lean down and start a path of kisses from her knee, to her thigh, to my favorite place.

  Good morning, Ana.

  Ah! She groans.

  Mrs. Jones is busying herself in the kitchen when I stroll in. “Good morning, Mr. Grey. Coffee?”

  “Good morning, Gail. Please.”

  “And what would you like for breakfast?”

  I’m famished after this morning’s, and yesterday evening’s, activities. “Omelet. Please.”

  “Ham, cheese, and mushrooms?”

  “Great.”

  “Mrs. Grey did an excellent job on your hair, sir.” Mrs. Jones smiles, and there’s a teasing glint in her eye.

  I grin back. “That she did.” I perch on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, where she’s laid two place settings. “Ana will be with us shortly.”

  “Very good, sir.” She hands me a coffee, and while my omelet is cooking she lays out granola, yogurt, and blueberries for Ana. I check the markets on my phone.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Grey.” Gail hands Ana a cup of tea as she greets her.

  My wife is wearing a pretty blue shift dress that complements her eyes. She looks ever the cool publishing executive, and not the sex siren that I know, intimately, and often. She sits down beside me. “How are you, Mrs. Grey?” I ask, knowing that she was well pleasured, and loud about it, this morning.

  “I think you know, Mr. Grey.” She gazes up at me through her lashes, giving me that look that goads my libido.

  I smirk. “Eat. You didn’t eat yesterday.”

  “That’s because you were being an arse.”

  Mrs. Jones drops a plate that she’s washing beneath a tap into the sink; the sound startles Ana.

  “Arse or not—eat.”

  Don’t fuck with me on this, Ana.

  Ana rolls her eyes. “Okay! Picking up spoon, eating granola.” She sounds exasperated, but proceeds to serve herself yogurt and blueberries and makes a start on her breakfast.

  I relax and remember what I wanted to talk to her about. “I may have to go to New York later in the week.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’ll mean an overnight. I want you to come with me.”

  “Christian, I won’t get the time off.”

  I peer down at her. Oh, I think we can work that out.

  She sighs. “I know you own the company, but I’ve been away for three weeks. Please. How can you expect me to run the business if I’m never there? I’ll be fine here. I’m assuming you’ll take Taylor with you, but Sawyer and Ryan will be here—” She stops.

  As ever, my wife makes a good point.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Nothing. Just you.” And your negotiation skills.

  She gives me a sideways look, but the amusement in her expression abruptly vanishes.

  “How are you getting to New York?”

  “The company jet, why?”

  “I just wanted to check if you were taking Charlie Tango.” Her face loses color as she shudders.

  “I wouldn’t fly to New York in Charlie Tango. She doesn’t have that kind of range. Besides, she won’t be back from the engineers for another two weeks.”

  She looks relieved. “Well, I’m glad she’s nearly fixed, but—” She stops and looks down at her granola.

  “What?” I ask.

  She shrugs.

  I hate it when she does this. “Ana?” Tell me.

  “I just…you know. Last time you flew in her…I thought, we th-thought, you’d—” She stutters and then stops.

  Oh.

  A
na.

  “Hey.” I brush my fingers down her face. “That was sabotage.”

  And we suspect your ex-boss.

  “I couldn’t bear to lose you,” she says.

  “Five people have been fired because of that, Ana. It won’t happen again.”

  “Five?”

  I nod.

  She frowns. “That reminds me. There’s a gun in your desk.”

  How the hell does she know that?

  The scissors.

  Shit.

  “It’s Leila’s.”

  “It’s fully loaded.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “I checked it yesterday.”

  What! “I don’t want you messing with guns. I hope you put the safety back on.”

  She looks at me as if I’ve grown an additional head. “Christian, there’s no safety on that revolver. Don’t you know anything about guns?”

  “Um, no.”

  Taylor clears his throat. He’s waiting for us at the entrance. I check my watch; it’s later than I thought.

  That’s because you made love to your wife this morning, Grey.

  “We have to go.” Standing up, I don my jacket, and Ana follows me out to the hallway, where we both greet Taylor.

  “I am just going to brush my teeth,” Ana says, and Taylor and I watch her retreat toward the bathroom.

  I turn to Taylor. “That reminds me. It’s Ana’s birthday in September. She wants an R8. A white one.”

  Taylor raises his eyebrows.

  I laugh. “Yeah. Surprised me, too. Can you order one?”

  Taylor grins. “With great pleasure, sir. A Spyder like yours?”

  “Yes. I think so. Same spec.”

  Taylor rubs his hands in ill-disguised glee. “I’ll get onto it.”

  “We need it by the latest September 9.”

  “I’m sure I can source one in time.”

  Ana returns and we head into the elevator. “You should ask Taylor to teach you how to shoot,” she says.

  “Should I, now?” My tone is wry.

  “Yes.”