Freed

by James, E L

  Thank God. At last.

  Setting aside my laptop, I stand up to embrace her. “How is he?”

  She snuggles against my chest, her eyes closed, as she wraps her arms around me. “Talking, thirsty, bewildered. He doesn’t remember the accident at all.”

  “That’s understandable. Now that he’s awake, I want to get him moved to Seattle. Then we can go home, and my mom can keep an eye on him.”

  “I’m not sure he’s well enough to be moved.”

  “I’ll talk to Dr. Sluder. Get her opinion.”

  “You miss home?” Ana looks up at me.

  “Yes.” Very much.

  “Okay.” She smiles, and together we return to the ward, where we find Ray is sitting up in bed. He looks a little shell-shocked, and frankly embarrassed that I’m there.

  “Ray. It’s good to see you back with us.”

  “Thanks, Christian,” he grumbles. “Awful lot of trouble for you kids to be here.”

  “Dad, it’s no trouble. We don’t want to be anywhere else.” Ana tries to reassure him.

  Dr. Sluder joins us, bristling with efficiency. “Mr. Steele. Welcome back,” she says.

  “You haven’t stopped smiling.” I tuck a strand of Ana’s hair behind her ear as she pulls up outside The Heathman in the R8.

  “I’m very relieved. And happy.” She flashes me a smile.

  “Good.” We climb out and Ana hands her keys to the valet. It’s getting darker and cooler and Ana shivers, so I drape my arm around her shoulders, and we wander into the hotel. From the foyer, I eye the Marble Bar. “Shall we celebrate?”

  “Celebrate?” Ana frowns.

  “Your dad.”

  She chuckles. “Oh, him.”

  “I’ve missed that sound.” I kiss her hair.

  “Can we just eat in our room? You know, have a quiet night in?”

  “Sure. Come.” Taking her hand, we walk to the elevators.

  Ana devours her dinner. “That was delicious.” She pushes her plate away. “They sure know how to make a fine tarte tatin here.”

  That they do, Ana. “That’s the most I’ve seen you eat the entire time we’ve been here.”

  “I was hungry.” She sits back, replete, and it’s most gratifying to witness. She’s fresh and clean from our bath earlier and wearing nothing but my T-shirt and her panties. She’s all eyes and smiles and ponytail and legs…especially legs.

  Lifting my glass of wine, I take a sip. “What would you like to do now?” I keep my tone gentle, and hopefully a little seductive. My iPod is playing some serene tunes in the background. I know what I want to do, but she’s had an emotional day.

  “What do you want to do?”

  Is this a trick question?

  I raise a brow, amused. “What I always want to do.”

  “And that is?”

  “Mrs. Grey, don’t be coy.”

  She purses her lips with her secret smile and, reaching across the table, grasps my hand and turns it over. With great care, she skates her index finger over my palm, which tingles in response. It’s an odd feeling that takes my breath away.

  “I’d like you to touch me with this.” Her voice is low and provocative as her fingertip continues brushing over my index finger.

  Her touch echoes. Everywhere.

  Fuck.

  I shift in my chair. “Just that?”

  “Maybe this.” She traces a line along my middle finger and back to my palm. “And this.” She weaves a path up to my wedding ring. “Definitely this.” She stops, her finger pressed against my platinum ring. “This is very sexy.”

  “Is it, now?”

  “It sure is. It says ‘this man is mine.’”

  Hell. I’m hard.

  Yes. Ana. Yours.

  Using her fingernail, she outlines the small callus that’s formed where my palm rubs against my ring, her eyes on mine. Her pupils dilate—the dark overcoming the bright blue.

  She beguiles me.

  Leaning forward, I capture her chin in my hand. “Mrs. Grey, are you seducing me?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Anastasia, I’m a given.” Always. “Come here.” I pull her into my lap and hold her. “I like having unfettered access to you.” To prove it, I run my hand up her naked thigh to her behind, then clasping the nape of her neck with my other hand, I angle her head and kiss her. Thoroughly. Exploring her mouth and savoring the feel of her tongue against mine, as her fingers find my hair.

  She tastes of apple pie and Ana.

  With a hint of fine Chablis.

  It’s a stimulating combination in every sense. We’re both breathing hard when I pull away. “Let’s go to bed,” I whisper against her lips.

  “Bed?” she scoffs.

  Oh!

  I lean back and tug her hair so I’m looking directly into her eyes. “Where would you prefer, Mrs. Grey?”

  She shrugs, nonchalant. Challenging. “Surprise me.”

  “You’re feisty this evening.” I run my nose down hers while a list of possibilities forms in my mind.

  “Maybe I need to be restrained.”

  “Maybe you do. You’re getting mighty bossy in your old age.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” She squares her shoulders, in that way she does, ready for battle.

  Oh, Ana. “I know what I’d like to do about it. Depends if you’re up to it.”

  “Oh, Mr. Grey, you’ve been very gentle with me these last couple of days. I’m not made of glass, you know.”

  “You don’t like gentle?”

  “With you, of course. But you know…variety is the spice of life.” She flutters her eyelashes.

  “You’re after something less gentle?”

  “Something life-affirming.”

  Wow. “Life-affirming?” Astonished, I gaze at her, as all manner of sexual scenarios pop most welcome into my mind. She nods, gazing into my eyes and teasing her lower lip with her teeth.

  On purpose.

  She’s goading me.

  She wants life-affirming, I can oblige. “Don’t bite your lip.” I tighten my grip on her and rise, holding her close. She gasps in surprise and grabs my arms while I carry her across the room and settle her on the farthest sofa.

  I have a plan. I want to see how far her newfound sexual confidence extends.

  And I want to watch.

  “Wait here. Don’t move.” She turns her head, her eyes tracking me as I head to the bedroom. I scan the room and remember one of the presents she opened this morning at breakfast—some fancy toiletries from Kate. In the smart presentation box, I discover a small bottle of scented moisturizing oil, dark amber and sandalwood.

  Perfect. I slip it into the rear pocket of my jeans. From the bathroom I retrieve both belts from our hotel bathrobes and grab one of the largest bath towels.

  Back in the living room, I’m pleased to find Ana has stayed on the couch.

  Obedience! At last!

  She can’t see me as I approach her from behind, or hear me, as I’m barefoot. She gasps when I lean over and grab the hem of her T-shirt. “I think we’ll dispense with this.” I drag it over her head and toss it on the floor, admiring how her nipples peak in response to the brush of the material and the cooler temperature in the room. I grab her ponytail, tipping her head back and claiming her mouth with a brief kiss.

  “Stand up,” I murmur against her skin. She obliges, naked except for her panties. I lay the towel over the sofa, not wishing to get oil, or anything else, on the fabric.

  “Take your panties off.” I look directly at Ana. She swallows, but with her eyes fixed on mine she obeys, without hesitating.

  I like this version of Ana.

  “Sit.”

  She does as she’s told, and I grasp her ponytail once more, twirling her s
oft hair between my fingers. I tug it, pulling back her head, and stand over her. “You’ll tell me to stop if this gets too much, yes?”

  She nods.

  Damn it, Ana. “Say it.”

  “Yes,” she answers, her voice a little shrill and breathy, betraying her excitement.

  I smirk and pitch my voice low. “Good. So, Mrs. Grey—by popular demand, I’m going to restrain you.” I’ve chosen this, the only sofa that has finials, for a reason. “Bring your knees up. And sit right back.” Once more she complies, without hesitation. Taking her left leg, I wrap a belt from one of the robes around her lower thigh and tie a slip knot above her knee.

  “Bathrobes?” Ana asks.

  “I’m improvising.” I tie the other end to the finial at the back left-hand corner of the sofa and tug, parting her thighs. “Don’t move.” I do the same with her right leg, tying the other belt to the back-right finial.

  Ana is splayed out, her legs spread wide, revealing all she has to offer, her hands by her sides.

  “Okay?” I ask, drinking in the view from above.

  She nods and looks up at me, soft, sweet, vulnerable. Mine.

  Bending down, I kiss her. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” I rub my nose against hers, fighting my anticipation of what’s to come. “Change of music, I think.” I wander over to my iPod.

  I scroll through artists. Select a track. Press repeat and play.

  “Sweet About Me.” Perfect.

  As Gabriella Cilmi’s sugared, sultry voice fills the room, I turn and lock eyes with my trussed-up, naked wife and saunter back to her. Her gaze doesn’t leave mine, as I sink down onto my knees in front of her, to worship at her altar.

  Her mouth parts as she inhales.

  Oh, Ana. Let’s see how far your confidence has grown.

  I know what she’s feeling. “Exposed? Vulnerable?” I ask.

  She licks her lips and nods.

  “Good,” I whisper.

  Baby, you’ve got this. “Hold out your hands.” From my back pocket I withdraw the small bottle of oil. Ana holds up her cupped palms and I pour a little oil into her hands. The scent is heavy but not unpleasant. “Rub your hands.”

  She wriggles on the couch.

  Oh, this will never do. “Keep still,” I warn.

  Ana stops squirming.

  “Now, Anastasia, I want you to touch yourself.”

  She blinks—surprised, I think.

  “Start at your throat and work down.”

  Her teeth dig into that bottom lip.

  “Don’t be shy, Ana. Come. Do it.”

  Come on, Ana.

  She places her hands on either side of her neck, then glides them down to the tops of her breasts, leaving a slick shine over her skin in their wake.

  “Lower,” I whisper.

  After a beat, her hands embrace her breasts.

  “Tease yourself.”

  Tentatively, her darkening eyes on mine, she takes each of her nipples between thumb and forefinger and gently tugs on both.

  “Harder,” I urge her, feeling like the serpent in the garden. “Like I would,” I add, gripping my own thighs to keep myself from touching her. She groans in response and squeezes and tugs harder. I watch each pucker and lengthen under her touch.

  Damn, she’s hot.

  “Yes. Like that. Again.”

  She closes her eyes and moans, and rolls and twists them between her fingers and thumbs.

  “Open your eyes.” My voice is hoarse.

  She blinks them open.

  “Again,” I order. “I want to see you. See you enjoy your touch.”

  She continues, her eyes clouded with dark longing—her breathing increasing as desire consumes her—while my yearning matches hers.

  This must be making her so wet…

  My pants are getting tighter by the second. Enough. “Hands. Lower.”

  She squirms.

  “Keep still, Ana. Absorb the pleasure. Lower.”

  “You do it,” she whispers.

  “Oh, I will. Soon. You. Lower. Now.” She has no idea how fucking hot she looks right now. She glides her hands beneath her breasts, over her stomach, toward her belly, as she writhes, pulling on the robe restraints.

  No. No. I shake my head. “Still.” Placing my hands on each of her knees, I hold her in place. “Come on, Ana—lower.” Her hands slide down to her belly.

  “Lower,” I mouth.

  “Christian, please,” she begs. I skim my hands from her knees, along her thighs, toward the exposed junction at the top of her legs.

  My end goal.

  Her goal.

  “Come on, Ana. Touch yourself.”

  Her left hand grazes her vulva, then she starts to rub her fingers in a slow circle over her clitoris. “Ah!” she breathes, her mouth forming a badly drawn o.

  “Again.” The word is a whisper and a command.

  She groans, gasping for air, and closes her eyes, tipping her head back against the sofa as her hand moves.

  “Again.”

  She groans again, and I don’t want her to come without me. Grabbing her hands, I hold them firmly, and bend down between her thighs, running my nose and tongue over her clitoris. Back and forth. Again. Taking her higher.

  She’s so wet. Dripping with her lust.

  “Ah!” she cries and tries to move her hands. I tighten my fingers around her wrists while I continue my sensual onslaught.

  “I’ll restrain these, too. Keep still,” I breathe, against her most intimate place.

  Ana groans, and I release her, then slowly ease two fingers inside her.

  So wet.

  So ready.

  So greedy.

  The heel of my hand pushes up against her clitoris.

  “I’m going to make you come quickly, Ana. Ready?”

  “Yes,” she breathes, nodding frantically.

  I move my hand. Hard. Fast. Stimulating her both inside and out. She mewls above me. Her head twisting to and fro, her toes curling, and her fingers clawing at the towel beneath her. I know she wants to straighten her legs to lessen the intense feeling. But she can’t; she’s close.

  So close.

  But I don’t stop.

  And I feel it.

  The beginning.

  Of the end.

  Her orgasm. Coming.

  “Surrender,” I whisper, and she cries out. Loud and proud, and I press the heel of my hand against her clitoris, and ride out her orgasm, which goes on and on.

  Wow. Ana.

  With my other hand I untie the robe belts, one at a time.

  As she descends back to earth, I murmur, “My turn.” Withdrawing my fingers from inside her, I ease back and I flip her over so she’s facedown on the sofa, her knees on the floor. I yank open my jeans, spread her legs with my knee, and slap her hard across her beautiful backside.

  “Ah!” she cries, and I drive into her, as deep as I can. She cries out again.

  “Oh, Ana,” I breathe, and gripping her hips, I start to move. Hard. Fast.

  Again. Taking my pleasure. She wanted it rough.

  We. Aim. To. Please.

  I drive into her. Losing myself. In her. So in her.

  Her cries taking me higher.

  Fuck.

  She’s building again.

  I feel it.

  “Come on, Ana!” I shout, and she comes once more, taking me over the edge with her.

  I ease her off the sofa and we lie down on the floor, where she sprawls on top of me, facing the ceiling. We’re quiet, catching our collective breath.

  “Life-affirming enough for you?” I ask eventually, as I kiss her hair.

  “Oh, yes.” Her hands settle on my thighs, and she tugs at the material of my jeans. “I think we
should go again. No clothes for you this time.”

  Again! “Christ, Ana. Give a man a chance.”

  She giggles, and I can’t help laughing with her. “I’m glad Ray’s conscious. Seems all your appetites are back.”

  She turns over, still on top of me, and scowls. “Are you forgetting about last night and this morning?” she pouts and rests her chin on her hands, on my chest.

  “Nothing forgettable about either of those.” I grin and grab her bountiful behind with both hands. “You have a fantastic ass, Mrs. Grey.”

  “So do you.” She arches a brow. “Though yours is still under cover.”

  “And what are you going to do about that, Mrs. Grey?”

  “Why, I’m going to undress you, Mr. Grey. All of you.”

  Her enthusiasm is infectious.

  “And I think there’s a lot that’s sweet about you,” she whispers, repeating the song lyric, her eyes radiating her warmth and love.

  Shit.

  “You are,” she stresses, and kisses the corner of my mouth. Closing my eyes, I tighten my arms around her.

  Why are you talking about this?

  “Christian, you are. You made this weekend so special—in spite of what happened to Ray. Thank you.”

  Large, luminous eyes meet mine.

  “Because I love you,” I murmur.

  “I know,” she says. “I love you, too.” She runs her fingertips down my cheek. “And you’re precious to me, too. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Precious. Me?

  Suddenly, I’m helpless and panicked. And completely disarmed.

  What do I say?

  Not now, Maggot.

  Fuck. I close my eyes. I don’t want that in my head.

  “Believe me,” she whispers, and I open them once more, gray eyes to blue.

  “It’s not easy.” My words are almost inaudible.

  I don’t want to talk about this.

  It’s too raw. Right now. For some reason I don’t understand.

  She holds such power over me. That’s why.

  “Try. Try hard, because it’s true.” She caresses my face, and I know she means what she says. If only I could hear it without panicking inside.

  “You’ll get cold. Come.” I move her to one side and stand, pulling her to her feet, too.