Thursday, May 31, 2012

Chapter XXI ← Christian Anastasia FanFiction



“Do you need a drink or anything?” I ask.
“No,” she replies. Great, neither do I.
“Good. Let’s go to bed,” I say. She raises her eyebrow at me.
“You’re going to settle for plain old vanilla?” she asks amused.
I cock my head to one side saying, “Nothing plain or old about vanilla; it’s a very intriguing flavor.”
“Since when?” she probes.
“Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?” I ask.
“Oh no. I’ve had enough exotic for one day,” she replies. I have a wicked gleam in my eyes.
“Are you sure? We cater for all tastes here – at least thirty-one flavors,” I say grinning at her licentiously.
“I’ve noticed,” she replies dryly. I shake my head to her teasing ways.
“Why Mr. Grey, you are a born romantic,” she says making me stop in my tracks with her smart mouth comment. How I love to tame it baby!
“Miss Steele, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come,” I say leading her down the hallway to my bedroom, and I have no patience to turn around and close it, so I kick it closed.
“Hands in the air,” I command, all business. She holds her arms up in the air, and I remove her dress with one swift move, and say “Ta da!” playfully like a magician.

She giggles and melts my heart and applauds. I bow down for her in response. I put her dress on a chair.
“And for your next trick?” she probes me, teasing.
“Oh, my dear Miss Steele. Get into my bed,” I growl, “then I shall show you.”
“Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?” she ask coquettishly. This has possibilities, and I’m aroused and excited, but, if she was to play hard to get, or run away from me even in a game, I’d have a hard time.
“Well,” I say, “the door’s closed. Not sure how you’re going to avoid me,” I add taunting. “It’s a done deal baby.”
“But I’m a good negotiator,” she rebuttals.
“So am I,” I say staring down at her. But then I get a feeling that she doesn’t want to fuck with me. Can I handle that?
“Don’t you want to fuck?” I ask.
“No,” she breathes. Something inside me shatters with her response.
“Oh,” I say frowning.
She takes a deep breath, closes and opens her eyes momentarily and says, “I want you to make love to me.” Her response stills me, and I stare at her blankly trying to process this information. My expression darkens with what I know, what I want, and what I want is right before me.
“Ana, I...” I say, unable to complete my sentence. I run both my hands through my hair in double exasperation. This is what I know. Changing my ways is extremely hard for me, not to mention giving me distress. But, isn't fucking a form of love making anyway? At least with Anastasia it is for me.
“I thought we did?” I say questioning.
“I want to touch you,” she says, and I take an involuntary step back. No! I can’t, though God knows I want her to. But, it’s my hard limit. Being touched is unbearably painful for me, making me feel like I have the hands of the pimp, hitting, putting out his smoke on my body. I was never able to pass that, and it’s just beyond torture. I am fearful of it. But then I manage to put my passive face on recovering myself, taking control of the situation.
“Oh no Miss Steele,” I say. “You’ve had enough concessions from me this evening. And I’m saying no.”
“No?” she asks disappointed.
“No,” I reiterate firmly.
“Look, you’re tired. I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” I say though that’s the farthest thing I want to do right now.
“So, touching is a hard limit for you?” she asks.
“Yes. This is old news,” I say impassively.
“Please tell me why,” she inquires.
“Oh, Anastasia, please. Just drop it for now,” I say exasperated. How can I begin to tell her the depth of my depravity, how fucked up I am since my formidable years?
“It’s important to me,” she whispers. I run both my hands through my hair again; exasperation is running rampant. Okay, we’re not going to fuck tonight. I go to my dresser and pull out a t-shirt for her to put on, and throw it at her. She catches it, confused.
“Put that on, and get into bed,” I snap, completely irritated. She frowns, turns her back, removes her bra, and pulls the t-shirt on hastily. She leaves her panties on I notice.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she says asking permission in a whisper. I frown, bemused. Why is she asking for permission now?
“Now you’re asking permission?” I say.
“Uhm... no.” she responds.
“Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don’t need my permission to use it,” I say irritated. I shrug off my shirt, as she scoots into the bathroom. I take my pants and boxers off, and put on my low hanging pajama bottoms on. I put away my clothes. I finally walk to the bathroom door, and knock on it.
“Come in,” she says through a mouthful of toothpaste. I stand in the doorway amused that she’s using my toothbrush again. Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. She appraises me with her eyes, and she appears to like what she sees. I finally smirk at her and come to stand beside her. Without taking her gazes off of mine, she rinses my toothbrush, and hands it to me.  I have humor in my eyes.
"Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush,” I say gently mocking her.
“Thank you, Sir,” she responds smiling sweetly, going back to the bedroom. I quickly brush my teeth, and follow her to the bedroom.
“You know, this is not how I saw tonight panning out,” I mutter petulantly.
“Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me,” she says, and the thought of it is horrifying. I clamber onto the bed and sit cross-legged.
“Anastasia, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life... You don’t want that shit in your head.” I say. It’s too horrible to know. “Why would you?”
“Because I want to know you better,” she responds.
“You know me well enough,” I respond.
“How can you say that?” she says struggling to her knees, finally facing me. I roll my eyes at her in frustration.
“You’re rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee,” she responds to me making me even more frustrated.
“Oh, I’d like to put you there again,” I say to her. Her eyes brighten with my revelation.
“Tell me and you can,” she says surprising me.
“What?” I ask incredulous.
“You heard me,” she says flatly.
“You’re bargaining with me?” I say in astonishment. She nods.

“It doesn’t work that
 way, Anastasia,” I reply.
“Okay. Tell me, and I’ll roll my eyes at you,” she says making me laugh at her tenacity. She disarms me at every turn. Her reply sobers me up.
“Always so keen and eager for information,” I say as my eyes blaze with speculation. Fine then, Miss Steele. Let’s see what we can do to oblige you. Oh yes. I leave the room while telling her, “Don’t go away.”
I go to the playroom quickly and find the new silver balls I’ve purchased for her. I quickly return to my bedroom, excited.
“When is your first interview tomorrow?” I ask softly.
“At two,” she replies. Great! We have time to play, and a slow wicked grin starts playing on my face.
“Good,” I say. I realize my face is changing into the Dominant Christian’s. You want information, I want sex. We can negotiate... this way.
“Get off the bed. Stand over here,” I point to the side of the bed. And she is like a bat out of hell, scrambling to get to the spot. Eager as ever... I stare down at her intently.
“Trust me?” I ask her softly. She nods. I hold out my hand, and show her two round silver balls linked with a thick black thread. “These are new,” I say unequivocally. She looks up at me questioning, not knowing what they are.
“I’m going to put these inside you, and then I’m going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine,” I say, pausing to gauge her wide-eyed reaction. She looks surprised.
“Then we’ll fuck, and if you’re still awake, I’ll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?” I say, asking her permission. She nods breathlessly. I smile.

“Wider,” I say. I place the balls into her mouth. They need lubrication.
“They need lubrication; suck,” I order in a soft soothing voice. She closes her mouth with the balls in there lubricating. She squirms in her seat.
“Keep still Anastasia,” I warn her. Finally I think the balls warmed up and lubricated enough, I tell her to stop. I take the balls out of her mouth, move towards the bed, throw the duvet aside, and sit on the edge of the bed.
“Come here,” I order. She stands before me.
“Now turn around, bend down, and grasp your ankles,” I order. She blinks hesitating. My expression darkens.
“Don’t hesitate,” I admonish her softly. Then take the balls and pop them into my mouth for some more lubrication. I want to be inside her every way. She bends over, holds her ankles. Her t-shirt slides up, exposing her delectable behind. My hand finds her backside and I softly caress it. I gently move her panties to the side, and slowly run my finger up and down her sex. She’s aroused and wet already. I slide one finger inside her and circle my finger. She moans in delight.
My breathing stops and I gasp but continue to repeat the motion. It never ceases to amaze me how ready she is for me at all times. I withdraw my finger, and insert the balls one at a time. Once both of them are inside, I straighten her panties, and lean forward and softly kiss her beautiful derrière.  I order her to stand up, and she shakily get to her feet. I grasp her hips to steady her.
“You okay?” I ask in a stern voice.
“Yes,” she replies softly.
“Turn around,” I order, and she turns and faces me.
“How does that feel?” I ask.
“Strange,” is her reply.
“Strange good or strange bad?”
“Strange good,” she confesses blushing.
“Good,” I reply, both relieved and aroused.
“Anastasia, I’d like a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me please,” I ask her.
“And when you come back, I will put you across my knee. Think about that, baby.”
She leaves the room to get the water. The movement will stimulate her inside. You see, these balls are originated in China. They are tiny weighted balls. After they are inserted into the vagina, they produce an erotic sensation within the vagina and its surrounding sensitive tissues with the slightest movement of the hips or legs. In fact, geishas used them to lubricate their vagina before they performed on a client. You can get an explosive orgasm by simply walking down the hallway. They’re only marble size balls. These balls are about subtlety and spontaneity. They’re designed to make their presence known by random movement which produces the anticipated climax. It makes fucking that much better. It’s like preheating the oven. Ready to function.
She comes back with a glass of water in her hand. I carefully watch her, and her expression. As she hands me the glass, I thank her, taking a sip of the water, and place the glass on the bedside table. I can see the anticipation in her, and anticipation is the best precursor to great sex. I turn my eyes on her.
“Come. Stand beside me. Like last time.”
She sidles up to me all excited and beyond aroused.
“Ask me,” I say softly. I want her to ask to be spanked. Her utterance will fulfill a deep need in me. A need to render punishment. She frowns, unsure of what to ask.
“Ask me,” I repeat in a slightly harder voice. She looks at me questioning, still not getting my meaning.
“Anastasia,” I say, “ask me, because I won’t say it again,” I say threatening. Understanding floods her eyes as I look at her expectant. Oh, escapes her lips.
“Spank me please, Sir,” she whispers making me unravel with her words. I close my eyes momentarily to savor the pleasure. I reach up, grasp her left hand, and tug her over to my knees. She falls on to my knees, and I steady her. I can feel her heartbeat through our skin to skin connection. She’s angled over my lap as her torso is resting on the bed. I smooth her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. I then hold her hair at the nape of her neck to hold her in place while gently tugging it so her head shifts back.
“I want to see your face while I spank you Anastasia,” I murmur while softly rubbing her backside.
My hand moves down between the cheeks of her derrière, and I push against her sex knowing it will move the balls inside... this makes her moan making me even more excited.

“This is for pleasure Anastasia, mine and yours,” I whisper softly.
I lift my hand and bring it down with a resounding slap against the junction of her tight of her behind and her sex. The slap brings up a pain pleasure. Pain on the surface as the blood draws to the surface making it pink, trying to absorb the sudden assault, the balls in her vagina would move forward with the slap, stimulating her on the inside. There is a myriad of sensations that is being delivered in one slap. She screws her face to absorb all these different sensations. I caress her backside to spread the sensation, trail my palm across her skin and over her panties. I lift my hand up again and deliver another blow. She groans this time with the spreading sensation.
I have a pattern. Left to right, and then down. Making the balls move forward. Between each slap, I massage her, kneading, inside and out. Stimulating her, making her want more, desire more. When I’m done with slapping her, she would want nothing but for me to fuck her senseless. Even if she groans, she’s pleasured. Left, right, and down. When I hit her on the downside, she groans and moans because the balls are moving inside and pleasuring her. I don’t have to hit her hard for this to stimulate her. The last down hit makes her wild.
“Good girl Anastasia,” I groan as my breathing gets ragged with arousal. I deliver two more spanks to her behind, then pull at the small threads attached to the balls and jerk them out suddenly. This would bring out a near climax, increasing her desire to be fucked. I lie beside her on the bed, producing the foil condom packet and rip it. Take the condom out, pinch the top and roll it onto my length. I seize her hands as I pull them over her head, and ease into her, sliding slowly and filling her. She groans loudly as her arousal is high.
“Oh, baby,” I whisper as I move back and forward in a slow sensual tempo. I want to savor her, feel her, and lose myself in her. As her arousal is near, she clenches around me, and we both ignite into a delicious, violent orgasm, leaving both of us gasping. What she does to me is unbelievable. I am in a different dimension, beyond fulfilled.
“Ana!” I gasp; her name is a litany upon my lips. As I utter her name, I’m silent but still panting with the jolts of pleasure on top of her while my hands still entwined in her above her head. Something tugs my heart strings as if an unknown sensation passes through. I lean back finally and stare at her in awe. ( Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows)
“I enjoyed that,” I whisper, and kiss her. I finally rise, and cover her with duvet, and go to the bathroom. I toss the condom into trash and clean myself up. I take a bottle of lotion with Aloe Vera and come back into the bedroom. I sit on the bed and order her to roll over. She does. Her behind is pink as could be.
“Your ass is a glorious color,” I say approving, and massage it with the lotion.
“Spill the beans Grey,” she says yawning.
“Miss Steele, you know how to ruin a moment,” I chide her.
“We had a deal,” she rebuttals.
“How do you feel?” I ask her trying to change the subject.
“Shortchanged.” There is no escaping her inquisition. I finally sigh, slide beside her, and pull this beautiful woman with a very smart mouth into my arms. We are spooning again, and I love being like this with her. I kiss her softly by her ear.
“The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, Anastasia. Now, go to sleep,” I say not wanting to divulge any more.
“Was?” she asks again.
“She’s dead,” I reply.
“How long?” she asks again. I sigh.
“She died when I was four. I don’t really remember her. Carrick has given me some details. I only remember certain things. Please go to sleep now.”
“Goodnight Christian,” she finally acquiesces.
“Goodnight Ana,” I say, and we both fall into deep sleep. ( Truly, Deeply, Madly by Savage Garden)

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Chapter XX ← Christian and Anastasia FanFiction


“Hands on your head,” I command through gritted teeth as I’m full of desire. I force her legs wide, and reaching inside my jacket’s pocket I take out a condom packet, still gazing down at her with a dark, salacious expression. I shrug my jacket off which falls to the floor. I roll the condom on my length.
I then place her hands on her head. She’s so full of desire for me, her eyes won’t leave me for one second, and once I’m ready to take her, she raises her hips up to meet my length in a gesture of welcome, and take in rough and hard. She too is anticipating. But she’s not allowed to come. With one swift thrust, I’m completely inside her making her groan, and she's pleased to have me in her. I put my hands on hers over her head, my legs are pinning her down. I trap her under me; I’m everywhere, taking her, consuming her, and it’s not enough. I want her badly to point of pain. I move quickly and furiously inside her, my breathing is hard at her ear, with her body responding, welcoming, desiring, and reveling in the feeling. She’s meeting me thrust for thrust, in synchronization, a perfect harmony. I feel triumphant for my conquest, and I ramp up my speed, and ram into her once more finding my release, I still as I breathe through my teeth. I relax only for a minute, inside her, my weight supported by her under me. But I can feel her trying to wiggle, and shift so she too can reach a climax, but I won’t let her. I want her frustrated as she frustrates me by not talking to me, by denying me what is mine, and by making me crave her day and night.
I pull out of her instants while she looks at me with an aching hunger for me. I glare down at her.
Don’t touch yourself. I want you frustrated. That’s what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what’s mine,” I hiss, my eyes are blazing as anger is rising in me again.  She nods in response. I stand up, and remove the condom, and tie the end of it. My eyes are on her. She gazes at me, her breathing is still erratic as she has not found her release, and frustrated; she squeezes her thighs together, without a relief. I zip my fly up, run my hand through my hair, and pick my jacket up off the floor. When I turn back to gaze down at her, I am feeling so much better, and seeing her softens my expression.
“We’d better get back to the house,” I say as she sits up, trying to find her equilibrium.
I hand her the underwear that’s been occupying my pocket. “Here. You may put these on,” I say, knowing she earned it back. She takes it solemnly, and puts it on. In that instant, we hear, “CHRISTIAN!” It’s Mia shouting my name from downstairs.
I turn and look at Anastasia with raised eyebrows, irritated with my sister.
“Just in time. Christ! She can be really irritating.”
Anastasia scowls back at me, trying to fix her panties, her dress, and smooth her just-fucked hair. Once she’s in order, “Up here, Mia,” I call to her.
“Well, Miss Steele, I feel better for that, but I still want to spank you,” I say softly.
“I don’t believe I deserve it Mr. Grey, especially after tolerating your unprovoked attack,” she says wounding me.
“Unprovoked? You kissed me!” I say upset, looking wounded. She purses her lips.
“It’s only because an attack is the best form of defense,” she whispers fervently with wide eyes. 
“Defense against what pray tell?” I ask incredulous.
“You and your twitchy palm,” she responds with her smart mouth. Cocking my head to one side I smile at her finally as Mia comes up the stairs.
“But was it tolerable?” I ask softly. She flushes in response, “Barely,” she whispers.
“Oh, there you are!” Mia says beaming at us.
“I was showing Anastasia around, I say holding my hand out to Anastasia, looking at her with intense eyes. Anastasia puts her hand into my extended one, and I give it a soft squeeze, and the jolt that comes with our connection starts flowing.
“Kate and Elliot are about to leave. Can you believe those two? They can’t keep their hands off each other,” Mia chatters with a fake disgust in her expression and she looks at Anastasia and me.
“What have you been doing here?” she asks bluntly, ever the forward and unfiltered speaker she is, making Anastasia blush. Maybe the part of my sister’s brain that censors what she says is missing.
“I was showing Anastasia my rowing trophies,” I say without missing a beat, and not giving anything away. Then I turn to Anastasia and say, “Let’s go say goodbye to Kate and Elliot.”
I pull her gently in front of me, and soon after my sister leaves the room, I swat Anastasia’s behind who is quite surprised by my action.
“I will do it again, Anastasia, and soon,” I threaten her quietly into her ear, then pull her into my embrace, her front to my back, and I kiss her hair.
When we get back to the house both Kate and Elliot are saying their goodbyes to my parents. Kate hugs Anastasia hard while I shake my brother’s hand. They whisper fervently to each other in secret. After their send off, I turn to Anastasia and tell her, “We should go too. You have two interviews tomorrow.”
My sister of course hugs Anastasia tightly as we say our goodbyes. To top the embarrassment, she says, “We thought he’d never find anyone!” Have a little confidence in me! I roll my eyes at my sister as Anastasia blushes again redder than the Chinese flag. She purses her lips at me for some reason.
“Take care of yourself, Ana dear,” my mother says sweetly to Anastasia.
I’m completely taken by this attention bestowed on my woman. It’s incredible how she disarms people with little or no effort at all. It’s unfair. Everyone is beguiled and captivated by her. I grab Anastasia’s hand, and pull her to my side.
“Let’s not frighten her away or spoil her with too much affection,” I grumble.
“Christian, stop teasing” my mother scolds me. Who’s teasing? She’s already disobedient to me. She hasn't got a single obedient bone, and not good submissive, and despite all of that, she has captivated me beyond anything has every captivated me. Paying any more attention to her would be to my detriment. My mother clearly loves me - of which I feel undeserving. I’m messed up, fucked up, and not worthy of her love, but somehow she has some affection for me. I bend down kiss her awkwardly.
“Mom,” I say reverently. This is the woman who saved my life. How could I not revere her? But, yet, I feel undeserving of all she has done for me.
“Mr. Grey, goodbye and thank you,” Anastasia says extending her hand to my father who in return hugs her!
“Please call me Carrick. I do hope we see you again, very soon Ana,” he says. What is she doing to everyone and how is she doing it so easily?
After our goodbyes, I lead Anastasia to the car where Taylor has been waiting for us. He opens the door for Anastasia, and she slides back into the SUV. I briefly talk to Taylor, and ask him to put his iPod on to have some privacy when conversing with Anastasia. I get into the car beside her, and face my woman.
“Well, it seems my family likes you too,” I murmur in wonderment.
Anastasia gazes at me questioning. All of a sudden her face falls with some thought. I don’t know what she’s thinking or why she’s gotten upset all of a sudden. She looks at the road, and then turns back and gazes at me. I’m staring at her.
“What?” I ask. I want to know what’s worrying her. She is indecisive between telling me and not telling me by the way she looks at me. But she makes her decision in favor of speaking.
“I think that you felt trapped into bringing me to meet your parents,” she says in a soft voice hesitantly. “If Elliot hadn’t asked Kate, you’d have never asked me.”
I’m completely shocked by her thoughts. Had I given her any indication that I didn’t want her there? I’m shocked, and I tilt my head gaping at her.
“Anastasia, I’m delighted that you’ve met my parents. Why are you so filled with self-doubt? It never ceases to amaze me. You’re such a strong, self-contained young woman, but you have such negative thought about yourself. If I hadn’t wanted you to meet them, you wouldn’t be here. Is that how you were feeling the whole time you were there?”
She takes a shaky breath. Of course I am pleased that she’s here. She’s my woman. She’s mine in every sense of the word. I’ve introduced her as my girlfriend to others. I do want her here. Anastasia gets anxious and her eyes move to Taylor reluctantly. I shake my head, and reach for her head.
“Don’t worry about Taylor. Talk to me,” I reassure her. She shrugs.
“Yes, I thought that. And another thing, I only mentioned Georgia because Kate was talking about Barbados. I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she confesses. Knowing that makes me feel so much better. I was so worried about her wanting to run away.
“Do you want to go and see your mother?” I ask.
“Yes,” she responds genuinely. I look at her. I do like her a lot, and there is this other emotion I can’t name is tugging at my heart strings at every turn. Her absence for a few days would be beyond frustrating. I don’t know how to handle it. I want to be where she is. I make my decision and ask her:
She’s shocked with my question, “What... ehm... I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says quietly.
“Why not?” I ask hurt.
“I was hoping for a break from all this…intensity to try and think things through,” she says. I stare at her. She needs a break from me?
“Am I too intense?” I ask, to which she responds burst out laughing.
“That’s just putting it mildly!” which quirk up my lips into a smile. It’s true that I am intimidating.
“Are you laughing at me Miss Steele? I ask playfully.
“I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Grey,” she replies with mock seriousness.
“I think you dare, and I think you do laugh at me, frequently.”
“You’re quite funny” she responds.
“Funny?” I want to know what sort of funny.
“Oh yes.” She says.
“Funny peculiar or funny ha ha?”
“Oh… a lot of one and some of the other,” is her response.
“Why way round?” I probe her further.
“I’ll leave you to figure that out,” she replies I her half asleep, half-awake with a shy smile.
“I’m not sure if I can figure anything out around you, Anastasia,” I say sardonically. But I am worried that she’s trying to put a distance between the two of us, and that is worrying. She is trying to run away from me. I have to know. “What do you need to think about in Georgia?” I ask quietly.
“Us,” she whispers simply. So, my worries are not imagined. I look at her impassively, but there is a brewing worry, and anxiety inside me.
“You said you’d try,” I murmur.
“I know,” is her simple reply.
“Are you having second thoughts?” I ask completely worried, but I have to know the answer.
“Possibly,” she replies confirming my suspicions. I shift in my seat uncomfortable. That’s bad. Does she think I’m bad for her? Am I making her run away from me, because of this intense desire I have for her? I need to know.
“Why?” I ask quietly.
She stares out the window as if the escape my gaze. We’re moving along the road approaching the bridge. The darkness masks our faces, and our thoughts, but not the energy that is vibrating between us. I have to know, I am scared to death that I’ll lose her. I don’t think I can handle that.
“Why, Anastasia?” I press her for an answer.
She shrugs, as if to say ‘nothing’, but ‘nothing’ is never just ‘nothing’. It’s always ‘something’. I want to know what concerns her, what she wants, what she desires, what she isn’t getting, so I can work toward fixing it. I know I’m fucked-up. I know she wants more. I want to know what that means to her. I reach for her hand, and squeeze it.
“Talk to me Anastasia. I don’t want to lose you. This last week...” I trail off. It only was the best week of my life... Ever. It was as if I was sleeping all my life, confined in a particular mode, and she jerked me awake, brought me to life, and she became my lifeline. She doesn’t realize I can’t live without her now. I can't even bring myself up to tell her that. I'm too unworthy. 
We’re coming near the end of the bridge, and the street lamps are now intermittently lighting the dark streets. I get a glimpse of the worry in her face through the intermittent light shining onto her face.
“I still want more,” she whispers, and in goes her lip between her teeth.
“I know,” I say. “I’ll try.” She blinks up at me, and I release her hand and reach up to her face pulling her chin so I can release her bottom lip from the captivity of her teeth.
“For you Anastasia, I will try,” I say sincerely. I am completely attached to her. I can’t imagine losing her, without being with her would be like having my dark heart ripped out. Even the thought of it is like a thousand cuts, and I feel like I’m slowly bleeding into my death, suffocating in my own sorrow. 
With my declaration, she unbuckles her seat, reaches across, and climbs into my lap, taking me by complete surprise. She wraps her arms around my head, and kisses me long and hard, and I’m putty in her hands as I respond in a second. She’s completely conquered me.
“Stay with me tonight,” I breathe into her lips. “If you go away, I won’t see you all week. Please.” I beg her. I need her. A lot. Especially tonight... I can’t even begin to imagine not seeing her an entire week. Does she have any idea how difficult it is to breathe and function without her?
“Yes,” she agrees. “And I’ll try, too. I’ll sign your contract,” she blurts.
I don’t want her to do that. Not a spur of the moment decision. I gaze down at her.
“Sign after Georgia, baby. Think about it first. Think about it hard, baby.” I say wanting to give her every chance.
“I will,” she responds and we travel clinging to each other in silence for a mile or two.
“You should wear your seatbelt,” I whisper her with disapproval in my voice, but I don’t want to let her go out of my arms.
She nuzzles up against me, her nose in my throat, and I’m in heaven for the time being with her in my arms. At peace, and serene. I have strong feelings for this woman in my arms, and I can’t name them. They're too foreign, too painful at times, and too captivating. It kills me to think that she might just slip through my fingers. I close my eyes, and revel in this moment. All too soon, we reach Escala.
“We’re home,” I murmur in Anastasia’s ear. Taylor opens the door, and Anastasia thanks him shyly. When I get out of the car, I notice that Anastasia doesn’t have a jacket. Doesn’t she own one? It makes me upset that my woman’s needs are unmet. I narrow my eyes on her, she looks bewildered.
“Why don’t you have a jacket?” I ask her frowning. I shrug my own jacket off and drape it over her shoulders.
“It’s in my new car,” she replies yawning, half asleep. Her reply makes me smirk. That shows her acceptance of my gift to her, and that maybe she's slowly allowing me to take care of her.
“Tired Miss Steele?” I ask.
“Yes, Mr. Grey,” she says shyly since I’m teasing her. “I’ve been prevailed upon in ways I never thoughts possible today,” she says making me even more playful.
“Well, if you’re really unlucky Miss Steele, I may prevail upon you some more,” I promise taking her hand, and leading her into the building.
When we enter into the elevator, she gazes up at me. The energy in this small space always gets palpable, and charged with static, even if she’s half asleep.
“One day I will fuck you in this elevator, Anastasia, but right now you’re tired. So, I think we should stick to a bed,” I say. (← Tonight by Enrique Iglesias ft Lucadris) Even though the desire is exploding out of me to take her right here, right now. With my declaration, in goes her beautiful lip into the confines of her teeth. I lean down, and grasp her lip and release it from its captivity gently. I slowly suck on it making her breathing stop with excitement. She reciprocates by capturing my top lip into hers, teasing me, making me groan. Woman, I’m going to have you whether you want to be had or not! The elevator doors ding open, and I grab her hand, and pull her through the hallway.

Monday, May 28, 2012

CHAPTER XIX ← Christian and Anastasia FanFiction



She glares back at me. Mia breaks our glare with a question.
“Where did you meet Ana?” she asks.
“She interviewed me for the WSU student magazine,” I reply.
“Which Kate edits,” Anastasia adds. Mia beams at Kate who is seated opposite to Elliot and the conversation goes in the direction of the student magazine.
“Wine, Ana?” asks my dad.
“Yes, please,” she answers smiling. My dad fills the rest of the glasses. Anastasia peeks up at me as I turn to look at her, my head cocked to one side. I’m still irritated with the earlier revelation.
“What?” I ask.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” she whispers.
“I’m not mad at you,” I say, but that’s not true. I’m mad. Boiling...mad.
She knows it, and she stares at me. She reads me well. I sigh.
“Yes, I am mad at you.” I close my eyes briefly to calm my anger down.
“Palm-twitchingly mad?” she asks nervously in a whispering voice.
“What are you two whispering about?” Kate the ball-crusher asks, sticking her little nose into where it doesn’t belong. Anastasia flushes and I glare at her to butt hell out of our business. I’m minding my own business like she should be doing.
“Just about my trip to Georgia,” Anastasia answers her sweetly trying to diffuse the tension building between us. Kate smiles, and some wicked thought is crossing her mind. I wonder what the little witch is up to.
“How was Jose when you went to the bar with him on Friday?”
What the fuck? She went out with the photographer when she’s going out with me? Am I being double crossed? I don’t go out with anyone else, why is she going out with the photographer knowing how I feel about it? Knowing how jealous I get of that fucker... How could she do that to me? How much more can I handle tonight? Is she going to give me a heart attack, and send me to my early grave? I am palm twitchingly mad! To think that I have to learn this bit of information from the ball-crusher herself, and not from Anastasia! Fuck! My anger is like an overpressured pot. I'm going to explode if I don't let out some steam!
“He was fine,” Anastasia murmurs which confirms my suspicions.  She did go out with him! I lean over to her, and whisper, “Palm-twitchingly mad,” I say with barely contained volcano of emotions. “Especially now,” I say in a tone quiet and deadly. She squirms in her seat.
My mother reappears carrying two plates with Gretchen trailing behind her with trays. The phone rings, and my father excuses himself to answer the phone. My mother asks Gretchen to leave the tray on the console. Meanwhile Anastasia eyes the help with inquisitive and jealous eyes. Then she scowls and finally looks at her hands in her lap. My father returns back to the dining room.
“Call for you, darling. It’s the hospital,” he says to my mom.
“Please start everyone,” my mother invites the guests and smiles as she exists the room. Anastasia furrows her brows but she has an appetite this evening most likely caused by this afternoon’s sexual activities she’s done with me.
My mother returns a few minutes later, and my father asks if everything okay to which my mother responds sighing, “another measles case.”
“Oh no,” is my father’s response.
“Yes, a child. The fourth case this month. If only people would get their kids vaccinated,” she says shaking her head sadly, adding, “I’m so glad our children never went through that. They never caught anything worse than chicken pox, thank goodness. Poor Elliot,” she says as she sits down smiling at my brother. Elliot frowns for being put on the spot, squirms uncomfortably. “Christian and Mia were lucky. They got it so mildly, only a spot to share between them,” to which Mia giggles, and I roll my eyes. Elliot wants to move on away from the current topic.
“So, did you catch the Mariners game Dad?” he asks, and the subject is changed. I glance at Anastasia and she’s eating heartily which pleases me. Elliot, my father and I change the subject to basketball. We like talking of sports and current events.
“How are you settling in your new apartment dear?” my mother asks Anastasia politely bringing her out of her thoughts. She talks about their move, and how she and Kate have been grateful to Elliot for his help. Just then Gretchen enters into the dining room and clearing the table. She brushes me as she passes, and I notice Anastasia narrows her eyes on her automatically. Meanwhile Kate and Mia are gushing about Paris.
“Have you been to Paris, Ana?” Mia asks Anastasia bringing her out of her silent thoughts.
“No, but I’d love to go,” she responds to Mia.
“We honeymooned in Paris,” says my mother smiling lovingly at my father who grins back at her. They look so in love with each other still.

“It’s a beautiful city,” Mia agrees with them, adding, “in spite of the Parisians. Christian, you should take Ana to Paris,” Mia says firmly. (←La Vie en rose by Louis Armstrong)

“I think Anastasia would prefer London,” I respond softly to her statement. I remember her telling me how much she wanted to see where her favorite authors are from. I have a hard time not touching this beauty next to me; then I get this overwhelming desire to touch and love her. Especially when I know very well that she has nothing underneath that dress. I place my hand on her thigh. Her whole body tightens in response. She flushes and shifts in her chair, and she tries to pull away from me! I don’t want her to refuse me. Is it because of the photographer? Does she desire him instead of me? Is that why she's gone out with him? My hand clamps down on her thigh, stilling her. She’s bewildered, reaches for her wine, in desperation. I want what is mine, wherever I am. She is mine!

Gretchen comes in with the entrée: a beef Wellington. We’re served, and as she’s serving my plate, Anastasia gives this venomous look at her. I look at Anastasia quizzically not quite understanding her reaction to the help. If she likes me, and gets jealous of me, why deny me what is mine?

“So what was wrong with the Parisians?” Elliot asks Mia.

“Didn’t they take to your winsome ways?” he probes smiling.

“Ugh, no they didn’t!” gushes Mia. I wonder why? Could it be her forceful nature, or her less than discreet mouth? “And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a domineering tyrant,” she says to which Anastasia responds by spluttering into her wine. She’s possibly thinking of me, but I don’t want her to choke.

“Anastasia, are you okay?” I ask solicitously, taking my hand off her thigh for the moment. It’s actually too funny to see her respond like that to Mia’s comment. I am in her mind then! She nods, and I pat her back gently until I know she’s recovered. Knowing that Anastasia is eating heartily this evening and this pleases me immensely. I have never seen her eat so well. It gives me joy that she’s not starving herself.

Elliot teases me about me watching Anastasia eat, and I disregard him with a joke; he can’t get me out of my good humor seeing my woman eat. Next the desert is served, and it is lemon syllabub. Mia starts talking about her exploits in Paris. Then she starts talking about how beautiful Paris is.

Paris est fière de son histoire, Paris est merveilleuse à la tombée du jour. Grâce aux nombreux adjectifs épicènes, bien souvent, on n'a pas à se poser la question: Paris est agréable la nuit, insupportable en été, magifique à l'aube.

Everyone turns to her and stare at Mia as if she just lapsed into Latin. Well, close... She lapsed into French and she doesn’t even realize it. She tells us that Paris is proud of its history, and looks marvelous in the dusk, it’s nice at night, unbearable in summer, and magnificent at dawn. Of course, no one at the table besides myself and Mia herself understands what she just said. We’re only ones in the family who speaks French.

quoi?” she asks, confused, after seeing my smile. I smile broader and answer her question of ‘what?’.

Rien “ I say, ‘nothing’ while unable to contain myself and start laughing hard.

Qu'est-ce qui te fait rire Christian?” she says, asking me why I’m laughing, completely confused. I laugh even harder, while the entire dinner table is staring at us.

Pourquoi tout le monde me regarde?“ she says asking why is everyone staring at her. I laugh even harder when she still doesn’t even realize we’ve been conversing in French. She stares at me completely puzzled.

Ils te regardent, I say, trying to tell her that they are staring at her, while trying to contain my amusement,”eh bien…parce que tu parles en français… Nous parlons en Français... en ce moment même.” I answer her. between fits of laugher. I haven't laughed this hard in a long time. “Because,” I tell her, “you’re speaking French, actually both of us are at the moment.” She blushes, and then starts laughing with the rest of us.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was doing that!” she responds.

Elliot talks about his latest building project, a new eco-friendly community in the north of Seattle. His girlfriend Kate looks completely enamored with him, she is glowing with a mixture of love and lust for him. At least she won’t be crushing his balls... not in a bad way anyway. He turns and grins down at Kate, and a passionate wordless exchange passes through them. I notice Anastasia flushes in embarrassment. She sighs, and peaks up at me. Damn it! She flushes and tightens her legs I notice as her ankle hits mine while she’s trying to suppress her rising passion. Then in goes that bottom lip between her teeth.

I peer down at her, and raise my hand to pull at her chin.

My mother and sister clear our desert glasses and make their way to the kitchen while my father, Katherine the ball-crusher, and Elliot discuss the merits of solar panels in the State of Washington. I participate in their conversation while put my hand on Anastasia’s knee. My fingers start traveling up her thigh. Anastasia’s breath hitches, and she presses her thighs together to stop my hand traveling up on her thigh. Oh, baby, this is the second time you denied me in the course of the dinner. I’m brimming with sexual desire, and angry, and jealous of the fucking photographer. My already pent-up sexual energy is frustrating me, and she’s just denied me by closing her legs! She can’t just deny me what’s already mine! I give her a smirk. This is not going to help me calm down, and if I was palm twitchingly mad before, I am exploding right now, and nothing but punishing and fucking her will subdue the feeling. I'm torn between strange emotions.

In one hand, no one ever has denied me before! Ever! This is the first time, anyone closed her legs to me! It’s both extremely hot, and beyond frustrating. She’s just torturing me by biting that lip... I can’t take it. I have to touch her! I have to know her sacred grounds are mine. Her body language says she desires me. Then why is she not yielding to me?  I have to get her out of here, fuck her, punish her, and calm my inner monster down.

“Anastasia, shall I give you a tour of the grounds?” I ask her openly, so others don’t go around chasing us. Knowing her, she just might say, ‘no’ to me again, so I move to my feet to be one step ahead of her. I extend my hand for her which she receives and puts her small hand and I clench it. As soon as we touch, our connection is established, and I feel this demanding pull to her again. Our gazes lock, and there is immense desire in mine, hungry, and yearning.

Anastasia turns around says, “Excuse me” to my dad, and follow me out of the dining room.

I lead her through the hallway and into the kitchen where Mia and my mother are loading the dishwasher up.

“I’m going to show Anastasia the backyard,” I say to my mother innocently, as if I’m going to acquaint her with the property. That’s something a boyfriend who is bringing his girlfriend to his parents’ home for the first time can do. It’s an innocent act. My mother waves at us as Mia heads back to the dining room.

We step out onto the gray flagstone patio lit by recessed lighting. There are shrubs in stone pots and a small elegant metal table with chairs is set up in one corner. We past these, and step into the vast lawn that leads down to the bay. The city of Seattle is in the horizon, twinkling in bright lights. Two boats are moored in the boathouse, and the silver moon is in the background over the water. Ordinarily I would pay attention to the scenery, but my mind is far removed from the surrounding. I’m more occupied with what I want to do to Miss Steele.

I am pulling Anastasia behind me, and her high heels are digging and sinking into the soft grass. She’s having a hard time following me.

“Stop, please,” she begs as she stumbles. I stop with her pleas. I gaze at her. I have my passive face on, I am anything but. Right now, I want to fuck her seven shades of Sunday right after I delivered her a good dose of spanking!

“My heels. I need to take my shoes off,” she says.

“Don’t bother,” I say, and bend down and scoop her over my shoulder. She squeals loudly with shocked surprise, and I give her a very hard slap on her behind.

“Keep your voice down,” I growl. Right now, I’m beyond angry with her, and I’m in the moment to deliver her punishment.

“Where are we going?” she breathes.

“Boathouse,” I snap a response.

She is hanging onto my hips because she’s upside down, and I aim to get her up the second floor of the boathouse and give her what for.

“Why?” she asks.  

“I need to be alone with you,” I respond.

“What for?” she asks like a particularly annoying two year old.

“Because I’m going to spank and then fuck you.”

“Why?” she whimpers softly.

“You know why,” I hiss. Because she denied me what’s mine!

“I thought you were an in-the-moment kind of guy?” she pleads breathlessly upside down by my hips.

“Anastasia, I’m in the moment, trust me.”

Baby, I’ve been waiting all evening for this moment, and the time is for your punishment.

I burst through the wooden door of the boathouse and turn some of the lights on. They’re fluorescent, harsh, and they buzz. The motor launch is floating gently in the darkness of the water. But I don’t stop. I take the wooden stairs to the second floor.

I pause in the doorway to switch the halogen lights on in the second floor which are softer in the eyes. The room is decorated in a nautical New England theme. Now ask me if I give a fuck about this place’s decoration, or that it houses my trophies. Nope! Not a single bit. I have two goals in mind both of which involves the woman I’m carrying on my shoulder like a Neanderthal would have done thousands of years ago. There furnishings are sparse here, but there is a couch I can use to fuck her. Hell, I don’t even need a couch to do that!

I set Anastasia on her feet on the wooden floor. As soon as her feet touch the ground, her eyes are on me, taking me in their captivity. She’s mesmerized, as am I with her gaze... She’s bewitching. She watches me like a prey would watch its predator. My breathing is harsh from exertion as well as anger. My eyes are blazing with anger, need, and pure unadulterated lust, all for this woman before me.

“Please don’t hit me,” she whispers pleading, completely taking me by surprise. She’s supposed to be my submissive. But, here she is, negotiating her punishment with me asking me to spare her from spanking. My brow furrows, my eyes widen, and I blink with her unexpected plea.

“I don’t want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don’t,” she pleads some more.

I’m utterly surprised, and shocked with her reaction. I want to spank her, and fuck her after it, but she tugs at my heart strings, and making me unable to do what I’m set out to do. It’s like she douses the fire of anger with her brand of extinguisher, completely disarming me.

Her hand tentatively reaches up, and her fingers lightly touch my cheek, along the edge of my sideburn, to the stubble on my chin. Her touch does something to me, calming me, and I close my eyes momentarily. My breath is shaky. I feel that longing again inside me. Nothing short of having her would calm my need down. Underneath all this anger, there is fear. As soon as my eyes are closed, I lean my face into her hand. I yearn for her touch. Nothing is enough with her. My breath hitches in my throat, and something inside my heart aches, painfully. As if her hand is reaching in and squeezing it. I want her to, despite the pain! I feel her other hand reaching up, and running into my hair, softly, gently. Babying me. Caressing like a lover. I give out an involuntary, barely audible moan, and I slowly open my eyes, warily. In complete captivation of this woman who is loving me with her fingertips.

She steps forward and her body is completely flush with mine. She gently pulls my hair, bringing my mouth down to hers, and she kisses me! She forces her tongue between my lips into my mouth. I groan. I want this! I embrace her, tightly, pulling her so close to me, not even an air molecule can pass through between us. My hands find their way into her hair. I kiss her back, hard, and possessive. She’s mine. I want to claim what is mine. Our tongues twist and tango with each other, devouring, consuming, loving, and making out. She’s my soul food. I can’t do without her. I need a life affirming experience with her. I need to know she’s mine.

I pull back suddenly, both of our breaths mingled with each other, ragged. Her hands drop to my arms, and I glare down at her with a mingled incredulity, desire, want, question, and unnamed emotions.

“What are you doing to me?” I whisper. You completely disarm me, unman me. You leave me defenseless. You make me feel helpless. You leave my life out of control, and I have this fucking feeling that’s ripping out my dark heart every time I think of you gone. I’m beyond confused.

“Kissing you,” she simply responds.

How? Why? “You said no,” I say unbelieving.

“What?” she says, confused. She doesn’t know what she said ‘no’ to.

“At dinner table, with your legs,” I clarify.  Realization dawns on her. Yes, that one!

“But Christian,” she rebuttals, “we were at your parents’ dining table,” she stares up to me bewildered. “It’s inappropriate,” she simply states. I only have wonder in my eyes, with increasing lust now.

“No one has ever said no to me before.” A submissive would never have done it. In fact, if I wanted to fuck a submissive while my parents were having dinner, she would have just laid on the table and opened her legs for me. That’s what a submissive does. Yes, here she was denying me, and by God, this is the hottest thing that was ever done to me. “And your denial, although maddening, it’s also so, fucking – hot,” I say realizing. I’m full of wonder and lust for her. My hand moves down to her behind. I pull her sharply against myself, and she can feel my full erection.

“You’re mad and turned on because I said no?” she breathes, shocked.

“I’m mad because you never mentioned Georgia to me. I’m mad because you went drinking with that guy who tried to seduce you when you were drunk, and left you ill with a complete stranger. What kind a friend is that? And I’m mad and aroused because you closed your legs on me,” I growl dangerously, and my hands slowly lift up the hem of her dress.

I want her to know that I own her, I alone. No one else. Her body is mine to do as I wish. Not that fucking photographer who tries to get back in line with her.

“I want you, and I want you now. And if you’re not going to let me spank you – which you rightfully deserve – I’m going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, and for my pleasure alone. You will not come.”

I lift her dress up, and half her ass is visible. I move suddenly and cup her sex, and sink one of my fingers into her while my other hand holding her firmly in place around her waist. She suppressed a pleasure moan.

“This is mine,” I whisper through gritted teeth. “All mine! Do you understand?” I want to declare my territory. I’m incredibly possessive of her, fear is curling through me that some other fucker might slip in and take away what’s mine. My finger eases in and out of her sex, I gaze down at her, gauging her reaction, and looking to see her response.

“Yes, all yours,” she breathes desirously, hot for me, ready to be fucked by me. Open... Relief floods me. Courses through my bloodstream. My heartbeat and hers mixes, and races each other, trying to run away from our chests and merge.

Right now, I see nothing, I feel nothing, I can think of anyone or anything except for Anastasia. My entire being has stood attention only for her. Nothing exists right this moment, but she and I alone. She consumes me, conquered me body and soul, and I have to have her. I make my move. (← Animal by The Cab)

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