Darker (43 page)

“Ah,” she cries, and braces against her restraints.

Oh, baby, you’re mine.

I swirl my tongue around and around and move my fingers in and out, rotating slowly. She arches off the bed, and from the corner of my eye I see her clutching the sheets.

Absorb the pleasure, Ana.

“Oh, Christian,” she cries out.

“I know, baby.” I gently blow on her.

“Ah! Please!” she pleads.

“Say my name.”

“Christian,” she exclaims.

“Again.”

“Christian, Christian, Christian Grey,” she shouts.

She’s close.

“You are mine,” I whisper, and suck and flick her with my tongue.

She cries out as she comes around my fingers, and while she’s in the throes of her orgasm, I crawl back and flip her over onto her stomach and pull her into my lap.

“We’re going to try this. If you don’t like it, or it’s too uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll stop.”

She’s breathless and dazed.

“Lean down, baby. Head and chest on the bed.”

She complies immediately and I tug her hands backward and cuff each to the bar next to her ankles.

Oh, man. Her ass is in the air; she’s breathing heavily. Waiting. For me.

“Ana, you look so beautiful.”

I grab a condom and quickly rip open the packet and roll it on.

I run my fingers down her spine and pause over her ass. “When you’re ready, I want this, too.” I brush my thumb over her anus, and she tenses and gasps. “Not today, sweet Ana,” I reassure her, “but one day. I want you every way. I want to possess every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Moving on, I ease my finger inside her. She’s still wet, and I kneel up behind her and bury myself in her.

“Aagh! Gently,” she cries.

I still.
Shit.
I hold her hips. “You okay?”

“Gently,” she says. “Let me get used to this.”

Gently. I can do gently.

I ease back and then slowly forward, filling her. She groans and I ease back and ease forward. Again.

And again.

And again.

Take it slow.

“Yes, good, I’ve got it now,” she murmurs.

I groan and move a little faster. She starts mewling with each thrust. And I go faster still. She scrunches up her eyes and opens her mouth, breathing in a gulp of air with each thrust.

Fuck. This is exquisite.

I close my eyes and tighten my fingers on her hips and lose myself in her.

Over and over.

Until I feel her pulling me inside.

She cries out and comes, taking me with her so I climax inside her, calling out her name. “Ana, baby.”

I collapse beside her feeling utterly, utterly spent, and lie for a moment, relishing my release. I cannot leave Ana trussed up so, sitting up, I unbuckle her from the spreader bar. She curls up beside me while I rub the life back into her ankles and wrists. When she wiggles her fingers and toes, I lie back down, pulling her against me. She mumbles something unintelligible and I realize she’s asleep.

I kiss her forehead, tug the duvet over her, and I sit up and watch her. Taking a strand of her hair, I rub it between my fingers.

So soft.

I curl the tendril around my index finger.

See, I’m tied to you, Ana.

I kiss the end of her hair and sit back and look out at the darkening sky. I know on the ground it will be dark, but up here, the last vestiges of the day are staining the sky pink and orange and opal. We’re still in the light.

That’s what she’s done.

Brought light into my life.

Light and love.

But she still hasn’t given me an answer.

Say yes, Ana.

Be my wife.

Please.

She stirs and opens her eyes. “I could watch you sleep forever, Ana.” I kiss her forehead once more.

She gives me a drowsy smile and closes her eyes.

“I never want to let you go.”

“I never want to go,” she rambles. “Never let me go.”

“I need you,” I whisper, and her lips lift in a tender smile as her breathing evens out.

She’s asleep.

Grandpa is laughing. Mia has fallen down on her butt. She’s a baby.

Mia. Mommy and Daddy sit on a blanket. We are in the orchard.

My favorite place.

Elliot is running between the trees.

I lift up Mia and she walks again. Shaky steps.

But I am behind her. Watching her. Walking with her.

I keep her safe.

We have a picnic.

I like picnics.

Mommy makes apple pie.

Mia walks to the blanket. And everyone cheers.

Thank you, Christian.

You take such good care of her,
Mommy says.

Mia is a baby. She needs someone to watch over her,
I tell Mommy.

Grandpa looks at me.

He’s talking now?

Yes.

Well, that’s just great.
Grandpa looks at Mommy.

He has tears in his eyes. But he’s happy. Happy tears.

Elliot runs past us. He has a football.

Let’s play.

Mind the apples.

I look up and behind a tree Jack Hyde is watching us.

I wake. Instantly. My heart racing. Not from fear, but because I was startled by something in my dream.

What was it?

I can’t remember. It’s light outside, and Ana is fast asleep beside me. I check the time. It’s nearly 6:30. I woke up before the alarm. That hasn’t happened for a while—not with my dreamcatcher beside me. The radio comes to life, but I switch it off and snuggle up to Ana, nuzzling her neck.

She stirs.

“Morning, baby,” I whisper, grazing her earlobe. I run my hand up to her breast and gently caress her, feeling her nipple harden beneath my palm. She stretches beside me and I trace her skin to her hip and hold her close. My erection sits in the cleft of her behind.

“You’re pleased to see me,” she says, and wiggles, squeezing my dick.

“I’m very pleased to see you.” My fingers skate over her belly to her sex and I caress her, there and everywhere, as I remind her that there are advantages to waking up together. She’s warm, willing, and ready when I reach over to the bedside table, grab a condom, and lie on top of her, taking my weight on my elbows. I ease her legs apart, then kneel up and rip open the foil packet. “I can’t wait until Saturday.”

She looks up at me eagerly. “Your party?”

“No. I can stop using these fuckers.” I roll the condom on.

“Aptly named.” She giggles.

“Are you giggling, Miss Steele?”

“No,” she says, trying and completely failing to keep a straight face.

“Now is not the time for giggling.” I stare her down, daring her to giggle again.

“I thought you liked it when I giggle.”

“Not now. There’s a time and a place for giggling. This is neither. I need to stop you, and I think I know how.”

Slowly, I ease into her.

“Ah,” she says in my ear.

And we make sweet, unhurried love.

No more giggling.

DRESSED AND ARMED WITH
a coffee and a large trash bag from Mrs. Jones, I head up to my playroom. I have one duty to perform while Ana has her shower.

I open the door, step inside, and set down my coffee. It took months to design and source everything for this room. And now I don’t know when or if I’ll use it again.

Don’t dwell, Grey.

I face the reason I’m here—in the corner, my canes. I have several, from all over the world. I run my fingers over my favorite, fashioned from rosewood and the finest leather. I bought it in London. The others are made from bamboo, plastic, carbon fiber, wood, and suede. Carefully, I load them all into the trash bag.

I’m sorry to see them go.

There, I’ve admitted it to myself.

Ana is never going to enjoy these, it’s just not her thing.

What is your thing, Anastasia?

Books.

It will never be canes.

I lock up the room and head to my study. Once there, I pack the canes in a closet to be dealt with at a later date, but for now, she won’t have to see them again.

At my desk, I finish my coffee, aware that Ana will be ready for breakfast shortly. But before I join her in the kitchen, I call Welch.

“Mr. Grey?”

“Good morning. I wanted to talk to you about Jack Hyde.”

ANA IS BEAUTIFUL AND
elegant in gray when she enters the kitchen for breakfast. She should wear skirts more often; she has great legs. My heart swells. With love. With pride. And humility. It’s a new and exciting feeling that I hope I never take for granted.

“What would you like for breakfast, Ana?” Gail asks her.

“I’ll just have some granola. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.” She sits beside me at the counter, her cheeks pink.

I wonder what she’s thinking about? This morning? Last night? The spreader bar?

“You look lovely,” I offer.

“So do you.” Her smile is demure. Ana hides her inner freak well.

“We should buy you some more skirts. In fact, I’d love to take you shopping.”

She doesn’t seem overly impressed with this idea. “I wonder what will happen at work today,” she says, and I know she’s referring to SIP to change the subject.

“They’ll have to replace the sleazeball,” I mutter, but when, I don’t know. I’ve placed a moratorium on any hiring until we’ve conducted a staff audit.

“I hope they take on a woman as my new boss.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re less likely to object to me going away with her,” she says.

Oh, baby, you’d appeal to women, too.

Mrs. Jones places my omelet in front of me, distracting me from my brief and extremely enjoyable fantasy of Ana with another woman.

“What’s so funny?” Ana asks.

“You are. Eat your granola, all of it, if that’s all you’re having.”

She purses her lips but picks up a spoon and devours her breakfast.

“Can I take the Saab today?” she asks when she finishes the last spoonful.

“Taylor and I can drop you at work.”

“Christian, is the Saab just for decoration in the garage?”

“No.” Of course not.

“Then let me drive it to work. Leila’s no longer a threat.”

Why is everything a battle?

It’s her car, Grey.

“If you want,” I concede.

“Of course I do.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“What? I’ll be fine on my own.”

I try a different tack. “I’d like to come with you.”

“Well, if you put it like that,” Ana acquiesces with an accepting nod.

ANA IS BEAMING. SHE’S
so delighted with the car. I’m not sure she’s concentrating on what I’m saying. I show her the ignition on the center console.

“Strange place,” she says, but she’s practically bouncing in her seat and touching everything.

“You’re quite excited about this, aren’t you?”

“Just smell that new-car smell. This is even better than the Submissive Special. Um, the A3,” she says quickly.

“Submissive Special?” I try not to laugh. “You have such a way with words, Miss Steele.” I sit back. “Well, let’s go.” I wave her in the direction of the exit.

Ana claps her hands, starts the car, and pops the gearshift into drive. If I had known how thrilled she would be about driving this car, I might have relented and let her drive it sooner.

I love seeing her this happy.

The Saab glides up to the barrier and Taylor follows us out onto Virginia Street in the Q7.

This is the first time Ana has ever driven us anywhere, the first time she’s driven me. As a driver, she’s confident and seems adept; however, I’m not an easy passenger. This I know. I don’t like being driven at all, except by Taylor. I prefer to be in the driver’s seat.

“Can we have the radio on?” she asks, as we pull up at a stop sign.

“I want you to concentrate.”

She snaps back, “Christian, please, I can drive with music on.”

Choosing to ignore her attitude, I switch on the radio. “You can play your iPod and MP3 discs as well as CDs on this,” I inform her.

The sound of The Police fills the car: a golden oldie, “King of Pain.” I turn it down—it’s too loud.

“Your anthem,” Ana says with an impish grin.

She’s making fun of me. Again.

“I have this album, somewhere,” she says.

And I remember she mentioned “Every Breath You Take” in an e-mail; the stalker’s anthem, she called it. She’s funny—at my expense. I shake my head because she was right. After she left me, I did loiter outside her apartment during my morning run.

She’s gnawing at her bottom lip. Is she worried about my reaction? About Flynn? What he might say? “Hey, Miss Smart Mouth. Come back.” She stops abruptly at the red light. “You’re very distracted. Concentrate, Ana. Accidents happen when you don’t concentrate.”

“I’m just thinking about work.”

“Baby, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“Please don’t interfere—I want to do this on my own. Please. It’s important to me,” she says.

Me? Interfere? Only to protect you, Ana.

“Let’s not argue, Christian. We’ve had such a wonderful morning. And last night was—” Her cheeks pink. “Heaven.”

Last night. I close my eyes and see her ass in the air. I move in my seat as my body reacts. “Yes. Heaven.” And I realize that I’ve said it out loud. “I meant what I said.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“I don’t want to go,” she says.

“Good.” I relax a little.
She’s still here, Grey.

ANA DRIVES INTO THE
SIP parking lot and parks the Saab.

Ordeal over.

She’s not that bad a driver.

“I’ll walk you to work. Taylor will take me from there,” I offer, as we climb out of the car. “Don’t forget we’re seeing Flynn at seven this evening.” I hold out my hand for her. She presses the remote, locking the car, and gives the Saab a fond look before taking my hand.

“I won’t forget. I’ll compile a list of questions for him.”

“Questions? About me? I can answer any questions you have about me.”

Her smile is indulgent. “Yes, but I want the unbiased, expensive charlatan’s opinion.”

I fold her into my arms, my hands cupping hers and holding them behind her back. “Is this a good idea?” I stare into her startled eyes. They soften and she offers to forgo seeing Flynn. She shakes one of her hands loose from my grip and tenderly strokes my face. “What are you worried about?”

“That you’ll go.”

“Christian, how many times do I have to tell you—I’m not going anywhere. You’ve already told me the worst. I’m not leaving you.”

“Then why haven’t you answered me?”

“Answered you?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Ana.”

She sighs and her expression clouds. “I want to know that I’m enough for you. That’s all.”

“And you won’t take my word for it?” I release her.

When will she realize she’s all I’ll ever want?

“Christian, this has all been so quick,” she says. “And by your own admission, you’re fifty shades of fucked up. I can’t give you what you need. It’s just not for me. But that makes me feel inadequate, especially seeing you with Leila. Who’s to say that one day you won’t meet someone who likes doing what you do? And who’s to say you won’t, you know, fall for her? Someone much better suited to your needs.” She looks away.

“I knew several women who like doing what I like to do. None of them appealed to me the way you do. I’ve never had an emotional connection with any of them. It’s only ever been you, Ana.”

“Because you never gave them a chance. You’ve spent too long locked up in your fortress. Look, let’s discuss this later. I have to go to work. Maybe Dr. Flynn can offer us his insight.”

She’s right. We shouldn’t be discussing this in a parking lot. “Come.” I hold out my hand, and together we walk to her office.

TAYLOR PICKS ME UP
in the Audi, and on our way to Grey House, I contemplate my conversation with Ana.

Am I locked in a fortress?

Maybe.

I stare out of the window. Commuters hurry to work, wrapped up in minutiae of their daily lives. Here, in the back of my car, I’m removed from it all. I’ve always been that way. Removed: isolated as a child or isolating myself as I grew up, walled off in a fortress.

I’ve been scared of feeling.

Feeling anything except my anger.

My constant companion.

Is that what she means? If it is, it’s Ana who’s given me the key to escape. And all that’s holding her back is Flynn’s opinion.

Maybe once she’s heard what he has to say, she’ll say yes.

A guy can hope.

I allow myself a brief moment to see what real optimism feels like…

It’s terrifying.

It could end badly. Again.

My phone buzzes. It’s Ana. “Anastasia. You okay?”

“They’ve just given me Jack’s job—well, temporarily,” she says, with no preamble at all.

“You’re kidding.”

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Her tone is accusatory.

“No. No, not at all. I mean, with all due respect, Anastasia, you’ve only been there for a week or so—and I don’t mean that unkindly.”

“I know,” she says, and she sounds demoralized. “Apparently, Jack really rated me.”

“Did he, now?” I’m so glad that asshole is out of her life. “Well, baby, if they think you can do it, I’m sure you can. Congratulations. Perhaps we should celebrate after we’ve seen Flynn.”

“Hmm. Are you sure you had nothing to do with this?”

Does she really think I’d lie to her? Maybe because of my confession last night?

Or maybe they’ve given her the job because I won’t let them recruit outside the company.

Hell.

“Do you doubt me? It angers me that you do.”

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be here. And Anastasia?”

“What?”

“Use your BlackBerry.”

“Yes, Christian.”

I ignore her sarcastic tone and, shaking my head, I take a deep breath. “I mean it. If you need me, I’m here.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’d better go. I have to move offices.”