Chapter XV - FanFiction - Christian and Anastasia

FIFTY SHADES OF FUCKED UP

CHAPTER XV

As we both ascend from our ecstasy, and come back to our senses, I’m completely awed and in captivation of this beautiful woman I claimed in every sense of the word. And she has only been mine. What a feeling that is for a megalomaniac like me! I’m barely realizing the value of it just now. In fact I didn’t even fully understand how important it was to me until she climbed on top of me fumbling with the condom trying to fit it on my length. I realized that she’s never done that for some other man. Never sat atop another man. Never pleasured another man. Never been claimed by another man. She’s mine in every sense of the word... Completely, utterly, and irrevocably! Mine...  

She’s lying on top of me, her head on my chest, and I smell vanilla, soap, outdoors, and our sex on my woman: there’s nothing more intoxicating, more seductive than your woman lying on top of you completed sated and satisfied and you buried and lost in her on the planet... I close my eyes completely taken by the feeling of it. Never felt this way before. Ever!

While I have my eyes closed, she stretches her hand out on my chest touching me, feeling me. Although I desperately need and want her to touch me, I can’t bear the feeling of it. My hand swoops up and grabs hers; she looks hurt. But her look softens mine and I pull her hand to my lips and kiss each of her knuckles. Then I roll over so I’m gazing down at her.

“Don’t,” I murmur, then kiss her lightly on the lips.

“Why don’t you like to be touched?” she whispers, staring up into my eyes.

How could I tell her what a freak of a life I had, that my mother was a crack whore, or that no one knows who my father is, or that I’m fucked up by her pimp and she did nothing to protect me! Or the part where she committed suicide when I was four, and I had to live with her dead body, sleep next to her dead body, trying to wake her up so she can comfort me, or feed me, or take care of me for four days! How could I tell her that I’m irreversibly damaged and fucked up? Instead I say, “Because I’m fifty shades of fucked up, Anastasia.”

She blinks up at me. “I had a very tough introduction to life. I don’t want to burden you with the details. Just don’t.” I stroke my nose against hers, and then pull out of her sitting up.

“I think that’s all the very basics covered. How was that?” I say switching from a very uncomfortable topic. After all, sex with Anastasia is my favorite topic. In fact I’m quite pleased with myself for being her one and only teacher.

Her face looks frustrated with some emotion she’s not telling me about. Sadness, curiosity, desire. She wants to get to know me, know more about my issues, but how can I tell her without piquing her curiosity even further about my mountains of issues. Then I’d lose her forever...if she were to find out about the truth behind my predilections. I could never talk to her about that. Never! She'd run for the hills and never come back. I can’t lose her.

She cocks her beautiful head to one side, mimicking me, and makes a huge effort to smile at me. “If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, Mr. Grey, well you haven’t taken into account my GPA,” she says smiling shyly at me. “But thank you for the illusion.”

She’s one smart woman, and just as I think I distracted her, she says something unexpected, or does something unexpected. “Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. You’ve had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me,” I boast playfully. The first look that crosses her face is surprise, realizing I kept count. She flushes and blinks at the same time, and her reaction makes me stare down at her, I furrow my brows with the understanding that she’s hiding something. Jealousy is rising in me. Has someone else given her an orgasm I didn’t know about? I don’t think I can handle that. She’s supposed to be only mine. Or did she pleasure herself? Curiosity and jealousy get the better of me:

“Do you have something to tell me?” I ask, my voice is suddenly stern. She frowns, then looks embarrassed, going crimson “I had a dream this morning,” she breathes out, not knowing how I would react to this piece of information.  

“Oh?” I glare at her questioning.

She throws her arm over her eyes in utter mortification and says, “I came in my sleep.” I am beyond relieved to find that out. Relived that no one else touched her but me. She’s all mine! She hasn’t touched herself either, knowing my rules. My instant relief makes me silent but also amused. She peeks at me from under her arm, seeing me smile. “In your sleep?” I ask.

"Yes. Woke me up,” she breathes.

“I’m sure it did,” I say knowing full well how it affects someone.  If she only knew that she gave me the best wet dream I’ve had when she was keeping herself away. “What were you dreaming about?” I ask wanting to find out what gave her that orgasm. I hope she was dreaming about me, since she now occupies my best dreams, and sometimes the thought of losing her gives me the worst nightmares.

 “You,” she barely whispers.

Her answer relieves me immensely. She dreamed about me – an erotic dream at that good enough to give her an orgasm! “What was I doing?” I ask. This time she throws both her  arms over her eyes again.  Her embarrassment makes her hide her face like a small child. But I won’t be deterred by that. This is such a hot piece of news! I have to know what I was doing. “Anastasia, what was I doing? I won’t ask you again.”

“You had a riding crop,” she says color rushing her cheeks while her arms are trying to bury her face. I am beyond thrilled with this bit of information. She wants me, and what’s more she desires toys enough to dream about them. I gently move her arms and ask, “Really?”

“Yes.” She breathes turning crimson once again.

“There’s hope for you yet,” I murmur, completely relieved. “I have several riding crops,” thinking perhaps we could try one of them this Sunday.

“Brown plaited leather?” she asks making me laugh. If that’s the desire of her dreams, I’d be sure to find one.  “No, but I’m sure I could get one,” I say my eyes blazing  with excitement and anticipation. I lean down, and give her a small kiss, then grab my boxers... Her face falls. Taylor would have been waiting for me outside. I have to get back to the hotel. She turns her head quickly to the clock on the bedside table. It reads nine forty.

She too rolls out of bed, and quickly gets her sweat pants and a camisole top, and puts them on then sits back on the bed, cross-legged, watching me. My mind rushes forward to this Sunday, and how much I always want to be in her. God! I could live buried inside her all the time! Which brings up another topic; does she use any form of birth control? Since we’ve started our relationship, we need to figure out a method of contraception. I intend to enjoy her a lot, and I hate those condoms. I’m looking forward to being completely commando.

 “When is your period due?” I ask interrupting her deep reveries.

“What?!” she asks shaking her head not completely on the same page with me.

“I hate wearing these things,” I grumble holding up the condom. Then I put it on the floor, to free my hands and slip on my jeans. She hasn’t answered me yet. She’s occupied with her own thoughts.

“Well?” I probe her again, and she doesn’t answer me for some reason. I look at her, and she looks back. All of a sudden she looks embarrassed. Embarrassed of me! But she shouldn’t feel shy of me, not after all the acts we’ve done together.

“Next week,” she says finally staring down at her hands.

“You need to sort out some contraception,” I say to her. I don’t want to knock her up. It’s very important we resolve this. I intend to spend a lot of time with her. But she stares at me with a blank face as if I started speaking in Greek. The realization dawns on me. She’s very young, and she hasn’t been sexually active before she met me. It is a big possibility that she doesn’t even have an OBGYN.

I sit back on the bed to put my socks and shoes.

“Do you have a doctor Anastasia?” I ask her. She shakes her head in response making me frown. Just as I thought.  

“I can have my personal physician come and see you at your apartment this Sunday morning before you come and see me. Or he can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?” I ask her since she doesn’t have a doctor of her own, mine can sort the problem out.

She’s thoughtful. “Your place,” she answers quietly.  

“Okay. I’ll let you know the time,” I say making a mental note to have Andrea schedule my doctor to come to Escala.  

“Are you leaving?” she asks surprised with an undercurrent of melancholy.  

“Yes,” I answer.

A questioning look passes through her face “How are you getting back?” she whispers in a small voice.

“Taylor will pick me up,” I respond.

“I can drive you if you like. I have a lovely new car,” she says taking my breath away with her surprising response since her initial reaction was less than welcoming. She manages to amaze me at every turn. I turn my gaze on her unable to keep the warmth out of them.

“That’s more like it. But I think you’ve had too much to drink,” I say. I don’t want to put her in danger by having her driving semi-intoxicated.

Ever the observant girl she is, she asks, “Did you get me tipsy on purpose?”

“Yes,” I respond truthfully. I always endeavor to be truthful to her.

“Why?” she questions.

“Because you tend to overthink everything, and I’m convinced that you are reticent like your stepdad. But when you get a drop of wine in you, it loosens you up and you start talking,” I say. “I need you to communicate honestly with me, baby. Otherwise you clam up, shut down and I have no idea what you’re thinking. In vino veritas, Anastasia,” I say.

“And you think you’re always honest with me?” she questions.

“I try to be,” I say looking at her warily. She needs to understand that, relationships like the one we’re entering are based on trust. “This will only work if we’re honest with each other,” I say willing her to understand.

She looks sad all of a sudden. Her face has some hidden emotion she doesn’t want me to see or understand. Finally she pulls up some courage and holding up the second condom, she says, “I’d like you to stay and use this,” making me smile with humor. I would very much like to stay and use that condom and do all I want, but I’m breaking too many of my own rules. I can’t lose control in this. I have to be in charge. I’m letting this beautiful, captivating, enchanting woman get the best of me.

“Anastasia, I have crossed so many lines here tonight. I have to go. I’ll see you on Sunday. I’ll have the revised contract ready for you, and then we can really start to play,” I say firmly.  

“Play?” she says blinking. Yes, baby, play. She looks anxious.

“I’d like to do a scene with you. But I won’t do that until you’ve signed your contract. That way I know you’re ready,” I say by the way of explanation.  

“Oh. So I could stretch this out, if I don’t sign?” she asks playfully. I gaze at her assessing her demeanor. My baby wants to play. I can reciprocate. My lips twitch into a smile.

“Well,” I say with a wicked gleam in my eyes, “I suppose you could, but I may crack under the strain.”

 “Crack? How?” she asks innocently, playfully making me nod, and grin. “Could get really ugly,” I say teasing her. She grins back in response.

“Ugly, how?” she asks in her sweet demeanor.

“Oh you know, explosions, car chases, kidnapping, incarceration,” I say nonchalantly.

“You’d kidnap me?” she asks surprised.

“Oh yes,” I grin at her. Does she have any idea how much I desire her, and how close I came to breaking down?

“You’d hold me against my will?” she says in a breathy voice, raising the temperatures.

“Oh yes,” I nod. “And then we’re talking TPE 24/7,” I say to her. She gives me a blank stare.

“You’ve lost me,” she says in a breathy voice, her proximity is so close, I can hear her heart pounding...

She isn’t sure if I’m serious. What would she do, if she in fact knew that I am serious.

“Total Power Exchange – round the clock,” I say to her with desire making my eyes bright, excitement brimming in me.

“So you have no choice baby,” I say taunting.

“Clearly,” she says with her word dripping sarcasm, and rolling her eyes at me! Oh, thank heavens! Baby, I’ve been waiting for this moment to come, so I’d give you a lesson. I’m beyond excited and aroused with the prospect of punishing her.

“Oh, Anastasia Steele, did you just roll your eyes at me?”  She looks reticent.

“No,” she squeaks in a small voice.

 “I think you did. What did I say I’d do to you if you rolled your eyes at me again?” I ask triumphantly.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, waiting for to claim my prize in the shape of her round rosy ass.

 “Come here,” I say softly. She blanches. She stares at me trying to figure out whether I’m serious or not completely immobile.

“I haven’t signed,” she whispers.

“I told you what I’d do Anastasia. I’m a man of my word,” I say with my eyes burning embers. “I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to fuck you very quick and very hard. Looks like we’ll need that condom after all,” I say my gaze fixed on her with a soft, menacing, and salacious voice. (←Bad Things by Jace Everett)

She’s fixed in her spot, but I can see that she indecisive with different emotions. Wanting, desirous, needy, scared. I gaze at her waiting for her to move, my eyes are desirous, my palms are twitching expectantly. She uncurls her legs hesitantly. She eyes the door, calculating her chance of escape. Thinking, weighing her options.

“I’m still waiting,” I say. “Anastasia, I’m not a very patient man,” I warn her with a solid voice and a stern look.  She’s panting, afraid, but also looks incredibly turned on, just the way I like it. Slowly, with shaky legs she crawls over to me on the bed, and she’s next to me. I give an inward sigh of relief.

“Good girl,” I murmur.

“Now stand up,” I command her.

Tentatively, she stands on her feet. I hold my hand out, and she deposits the condom into my palm. I’m so full of desire to punish her and fuck her, I grab her with the speed of a cobra, and tip her across my knee. I wanted to do that since the day she asked me if I was gay on the day of my interview with her.  

With one smooth movement, I angle my body in a way to make her torso to rest on the bed beside me. I throw my right leg over both of hers for fixing her in place and plant my left forearm on the small of her back, holding her body down making her completely immobile. It’s a fucking lovely sight; I’m beyond aroused, and barely can contain myself to deliver her punishment for her disobedience that has been coming since the day I met her.

 “Put your hands up on either side of your head,” I order to which she obeys immediately.

Now, it’s time to read out the crime, and decree and deliver the punishment for her transgressions. “Why am I doing this, Anastasia?” I ask her.

“Because I rolled my eyes at you,” she says in a barely audible voice.

“Do you think that’s polite?” I ask firmly.

“No,” she responds plainly.

“Will you do it again?” I ask her. Not that she would dare to attempt after she’s received a dose of this punishment.

“No,” she responds immediately.

“I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”  I say making myself very firm and clear. Then I pull down her sweatpants painfully slow, making a show of it. Remember this baby! I’m eating this up. Aroused, happy, desirous, hot, and my palms are itching to hurt her behind, and spread the pain pleasure. I can feel the rapid flutter of her heart under my touch.

I place my hand on her naked, alabaster and delectable behind. It is so sweet, and soft, and pretty, soon it’ll be rosy red. The thought excites me beyond belief. I softly fondle her, stroke her behind round and round with the flat of my palm to cover the most surface, and spread the most pain.  And quick as a snake bite, I raise my palm and deliver her very first spanking – as hard as I can.

“Ow!” is her automatic response to her first taste of punishment pain. She tries to rise, wiggling, but my hand moves between her shoulder blades keeping her firmly down. I  caress her again where she received the blow. My breathing is excited. This is like sex to me: arousing, hot, exciting, a big turn on, like the oncoming climax – it’s louder, harsher. I hit her again and again, in quick succession. She makes no sound after her first ‘ow’. She tries to wiggle away from the blows, but no sound. I know it hurts, because my palm is aching, and that is turning me on beyond belief.

“Keep still,” I growl, my voice hoarse. “Or I’ll spank you for longer,” I warn her.

I rub her to spread the blood which is rushing to the surface of the skin with each of my blows making her alabaster ass rosy pink.  I have perfected this rhythmic pattern with years of practice, caress, fondle, slap hard. Repeat. Caress, fondle, slap hard. She hasn’t made one beep since her first surprise ow which is turning me on even more, surprising me with her endurance. If I slap her on the same spot, body’s natural tendency is to release some hormones to numb the area which is why I caress to spread the sensation, then I don’t hit the same spot twice in succession: this provides the maximum pain. On my tenth slap she yelps out in pain. “Aargh!”

“I’m just getting warmed up,” I say hitting her again then stroking her softly. This does two things: the slap provides the intended pain, but awakens some sensations inside coaxed out with sensual stroking, a pain pleasure which gives mind-numbing effects. I hit her again… I’m keeping count inside, and enjoying the hell out of her punishment; making a meal out of it. It’s satisfying the hunger, the beast in me! I stroke her gently again, and deliver my blow. This time she cries out involuntarily once more.

“No one to hear you, baby, just me.” And my slaps follow over and over again. Slap, stroke, fondle. Repeat. Eleven. Twelve. I count in my head. I continue my unrelenting rhythm. The following six slaps each make her cry out making me further desirous for her. My final slap is the eighteenth.  

Even my hand is singing with pain, and I finally say “Enough,” hoarsely.

I’m amazed with the way she handled it, and didn’t cry. “Well done, Anastasia. Now I’m going to fuck you,” I say to her with a lot of desire. I caress her behind gently, and it’s pink, borderline red. I stroke this beautiful rosy ass round and round and down. As I stroke her behind down, I quickly insert two fingers inside her, taking her completely by surprise; my purpose is accomplished. She gasps, because this is giving her a pleasurable sensation after the large dose of spanking and stroking she received. I find her aroused and wet as I had hoped and expected which pleases me even further. It further feeds the need in me in great doses.

“Feel this. See how much your body likes this, Anastasia. You’re soaking just for me,” I say with awe and reverence in my voice. She continues to amaze me at every turn. My fingers move in and out in quick succession making her groan. Then I quickly remove my fingers knowing full well that she is now full of desire… for me.

“Next time, I will get you to count. Now where’s that condom?”

I reach for the condom and lift her gently and push her face down onto the bed. I zip my jeans open, rip the condom’s packet, and roll it onto my length. I pull her sweatpants off, and guide her into a kneeling position, and, gently caressing her rosy red behind with increasing desire.

“I’m going to take you now. You can come,” I murmur. And I fill inside her, slamming. She moans loudly in response. I pull back and move forward finding my rhythm pounding into her, with a fast, intense pace against her rosy pink behind. The look of it grows my desire many folds.

Her face is down, her moans are indicating her climax is approaching. She claws at the sheets her knuckles white; this sight reaches me to the peak and the pull of impending climax tightens my insides, and we both reach and explode in an intense, body-shattering orgasm.

“Oh, Ana!” I cry out finding my release, firmly holding her in place as I pour myself into her. I collapse, panting hard next to her, and I pull her on top of me and burying my face in her hair, holding her close. I’m beyond satisfied. I found my match, who can fully satisfy me, and take me.

“Oh, baby,” I breathe. “Welcome to my world.” We lie there, panting together, waiting for our breathing to slow. I’m completely in awe of this woman in my arms. She’s my perfect match in every sense of the word. How can I let her go? I gently stroke her hair while she lies on my chest again, completely worn out, and spent; just the way I like it.

I nuzzle her hair again, inhaling deeply. “Well done, baby,” I  whisper, quiet joy pours out of my voice. I want to dress her and I pick at the strap on her camisole. “Is this what you sleep in?” I ask her gently.

 “Yes,” she breathes sleepily.

She deserves much better than that. “You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I’ll take you shopping,” I say.

“I like my sweats,” she murmurs, trying and failing to sound irritated. Still trying to be defiant. I kiss her head again. “We’ll see,” I say. We are going to do some shopping for her. We lie for a few more minutes, and she dozes in my arms.

“I have to go,” I say, and leaning down, I kiss her forehead gently.

“Are you okay?” I ask in a soft voice. She contemplates my question a little. Then simply whispers, “I’m okay.” I rise from the bed. “Where’s your bathroom?” I ask her.

“Along the corridor to the left,” she responds. Scooping up the other condom, I head to the bathroom to clean up. I toss the condoms in the trash bin in the bathroom, and wash myself up. I check the medicine cabinet, and find a bottle of baby oil. This will do the job in partially easing the pain of her sore behind. When I come back to the bedroom, she’s back in her sweatpants, her head in her hands. She won’t look at me in the eye. She just stares down at her hands.

“I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind,” I say.

“No. I’ll be fine,” she responds.

“Anastasia,” I say in a warning voice. She finally stands facing the bed. I sit next to her gently pulling her sweatpants down again. I squirt baby oil into my hand and then rub her sore behind with tender care.  

For some reason, I feel that her behind is like a shrine of worship. I can’t keep my hands off of it reverently now.

“I like my hands on you,” I murmur. She nods in response.

“There,” I say after finally finishing and pull her pants up again.

“I’m leaving now,” I say having Taylor wait outside for sometime.

She automatically turns to her side table to look at the clock. It read ten thirty.

 “I’ll see you out,” she says quietly still not looking at me. I take her hand, and lead her to the front door.

 “Don’t you have to call Taylor?” she asks, still avoiding eye contact with me. Chastisement will do that to you.  

“Taylor’s been here since nine. Look at me,” I breathe. She struggles to meet my eyes, and when she finally does, I gaze down at her with wonder. She’s amazing; I’m in complete awe of her.

“You didn’t cry,” I murmur, then desire builds and she’s like the sun to me; I grab her suddenly and kiss her with all my passion.

“Sunday,” I whisper against her lips, and it’s both a promise and a threat. I leave her by the door watching me walk down the path and climb into the black Audi SUV.

“Sir,” says Taylor by the way of greeting. I nod at him in the dark. “Heathman’s?”

“Yes,” I confirm. My thoughts are all of Anastasia on the short distance back to the hotel.

“Taylor,” I say remembering. “I want you to make sure the Blackberry is delivered to Miss Steele tomorrow at work. I don’t care if they have to make one from scratch.”

“Yes, sir,” he says firmly, and knowing Taylor, he’s going crimson because he doesn’t like inadequacy, and though it’s a simple task, it still remains unfulfilled. I need to be able to contact Anastasia at all times. I can’t let some other fucker slip in and take her away. I can’t handle it. Not after I claimed her as my own every which way-no one has taken her before. It’d kill me to know that someone else is warming her, holding her, fucking her... The thought makes me frown, and I grit my teeth.

“Taylor, make sure!” I say. He knows what’s coming next. He has the ability to read me. We’ve perfected the silent communication; which is one of the reasons he’s my right hand man. He knows what needs to be done without having to be told, and follows orders to the letter.

“Yes, sir! Even if I have to build the phone myself, she’ll receive it tomorrow!”

“Fine,” I say, yet I feel uneasy. Leaving her forlorn didn’t sit right with me. But I can’t break my own rules. Why do I have this fear all of a sudden as something is wrong, or that she might slip through my fingers? She’s occupying my mind all the time, in wake and sleep. How could someone so inexperienced, so innocent, so defiant yet so shy be so captivating? How could she conquer me in the course of a few weeks? I shake my head as if to empty it from the thoughts of her. When we get to the hotel, Taylor and I get off the SUV, and he hands the key to the valet. We make our way to my suite. I quickly go over tomorrow’s schedule with him as we are going back to Seattle after a week of stay in Portland. I’ll have to manage a day without Anastasia on Saturday. That makes me emphasize the point of her having the Blackberry to Taylor, and I think even if he has to invent it, he will have it delivered. He goes to his suite right next to mine, and I open a bottle of wine. I pour myself a glass, and make my way to my laptop to write Anastasia an e-mail as well as to check my messages that arrived in my absence. There’s a message from my sister Mia, giving me her flight information arriving from Paris tomorrow. I type a quick response to her confirming that I’d be picking her up.

I then type an e-mail to Anastasia:

_____________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: You
Date: May 26 2011 23:15
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Miss Steele

You are quite simply exquisite. You’re the most beautiful, intelligent, witty and brave woman I have ever met. Take some Advil – this is not a request. And don’t drive your Beetle again. I will know.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
_____________________________________________

In one hand I want her to go to sleep, because she is working tomorrow, but in the other hand I want her to respond to me, acknowledging she received my message, and that I know she’s there, in her small apartment, and not with someone. I know the thought is unreasonable; I still can’t help feeling it. The ding from my e-mail announcing her response sounds fifteen minutes later. I’m anxious like a school boy getting a note from his first crush.

_____________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Flattery
Date: May 26 2011 23:21
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you’ve been everywhere, it’s a moot point. I will have to drive my Beetle to a garage to sell – so will not graciously accept any of your nonsense over that. I prefer red wine to Advil.

Ana

PS: Caning is a HARD limit for me.

_____________________________________________

Her message makes me frustrated. Why can’t she take a compliment? Does she think so little of herself? Why is she still up? She needs to sleep if she wants to get a full night’s rest. I quickly type her a response.

_____________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Frustrating women who can’t take compliments
Date: May 26 2011 23:27
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Ms. Steele

I am not flattering you; I was only stating what I think of you. You should go to bed. I accept your addition to the hard limits. Don’t drink too much. Taylor will dispose of your car and get a good price for it, too.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_____________________________________________

I sigh, and hit send. Her response is quick, and this time it’s maddening. What is she trying to do to me?

_____________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Taylor – Is he the right man for the job?
Date: May 26 2011 23:39
To: Christian Grey

Dear Sir,

I am intrigued that you gladly risk your right-hand man drive my car, but you won’t let some woman you fuck occasionally drive the aforementioned car to a shop. How can I be sure that Taylor is the man to get me the best deal for said car? I have, in the past, probably before I met you, been known to drive a hard bargain.

Ana

_____________________________________________

This message drives me mad, and I’m in the right mind to drive over there, and give her the full ramifications of her ranting. I’m assuming she’s had too much champagne, and then drank red wine to sooth her sore behind. The knowledge of that is the only thing keeping me at the hotel right now. I immediately write her a response.

_____________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Careful!
Date: May 26 2011 23:43
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Ms. Steele,

I am assuming it is the RED WINE talking, and that you’ve had a very long day. Though I am tempted to drive back over there to ensure that you don’t sit down for a week, rather than an evening. Taylor is ex-army and capable of driving anything from a motorcycle to a Sherman Tank. Your car does not present a hazard to him. Now please do not refer to yourself as ‘some woman I fuck occasionally’ because, quite frankly it makes me MAD, and you really wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_____________________________________________

I’m still breathing through my nostrils when her message dings back, and my heart leaps into my mouth with what she said. So, my fears weren’t unfounded.

_____________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Careful yourself
Date: May 26 2011 23:57
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey,

 I’m not sure I like you anyway, especially at the moment.

Ms. Steele

_____________________________________________

What? She doesn’t like me? Why doesn’t she like me? I quickly write back to her.

_____________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Careful yourself
Date: May 27 2011 00:02
To: Anastasia Steele

Why don’t you like me?

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_____________________________________________

I anxiously wait for her to write me back. I count the minutes and the seconds on the clock. Finally her response dings back in my e-mail box.

_____________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Careful yourself
Date: May 27 2011 00:09
To: Christian Grey

Because you never stay with me.

_____________________________________________

I stare at the laptop’s screen for a minute. I’ve upset her! She finally said what’s been bothering her. I knew something was wrong. I’ve had the feeling, yet I left her. But she wouldn’t say anything. She said she was okay! Is she too intimidated of me to tell me how she feels except when she’s drunk and she’s writing me an e-mail? I need her to communicate with me openly, and clearly.

I had dressed down to get ready to bed, but I quickly dress up, put my pinstripe jacket on, and take my car keys. I send a quick text to Taylor letting him know I’m going over to Miss Steele’s and that I’d be spending the night over at her place. I drive to her apartment complex with the thoughts of her clouding my mind and worrying about her. I park the car, and quickly get out. I walk the stone pathway to her building, and climb her stairs two at a time. I knock on the door firmly, and in quick succession. (← You're Always on My Mind by Michael Buble)

It’s the roommate Kate the ball-crusher that opens the door. When she sees me, her face changes and she takes an angry tone, ready to rip me apart. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she bellows.

“I’m here to see Anastasia,” I answer.

“Well you can’t!” is her response. My heart stutters. Is Anastasia refusing me now? Did she change her mind? Did she decide what we have is bad for her?

“Why can’t I?” is my response.

“What the fuck have you done to her now?” she asks me.

“What do you mean?” I ask her incredulous.

“Since she’s met you, she cries all the time,” is her answer. It crushes my dark heart. I don’t want Anastasia to cry. I’m beyond worried that she’ll slip through my fingers because she won’t communicate with me, and that I’m too fucked up and hard on her. I have got to see her!

“Kate, don’t make me force my way in,” I say firmly glaring at her. “I have to come in now to see what’s wrong with her,” and push the door open wide and walk in.

“You can’t come in here!” she yells after me. I briskly walk through the living room, and burst into Anastasia’s bedroom, and switch the overhead light on to find her sobbing loudly into her pillow, she turns and squints her eyes, but not before I get a glimpse of her eyes swollen red with tears!

“Jesus, Ana,” I mutter. I turn the switch off again, and I rush to her side in a moment.

“What are you doing here?” she gasps between sobs. She’s unable to stop crying. I flick the side table lamp on. She squints with the onslaught of the light again. Her roommate Katherine comes and stands in the doorway.

“Do you want me to throw this asshole out?” she asks Anastasia, radiating thermonuclear hostility. I raise my eyebrows at her, clearly not having very many people to speak to me in those terms, at least to my face anyway, though I know I am an asshole. But her feral antagonism makes me think that I’ve done something horribly wrong to Anastasia, though I don’t know what. Anastasia shakes her head at her in the negative, and the roommate rolls her eyes at her.

“Just holler if you need me,” she says gently to Anastasia, then turns her venomous glare at me and hisses, “Grey – your cards are marked!” pointing a well-manicured finger at me, and she turns and pulls the door to but doesn’t close it. I’m shaken to the core, because clearly I’ve done something to someone I care a lot about, and I don’t fucking have a clue what it is! I gaze down at Anastasia with a grave expression, my face blanched.

I reach inside my jacket and from my inside pocket and pull out my handkerchief and hand it to her.

“What’s going on?” I ask quietly, worried.

“Why are you here?” she asks me in response, ignoring my question. Her tears ceased flowing, but she’s so distraught, her body is shaking with dry heaves. This upsets me, and I’m anxious to know what I have done, and how I can amend it.

“Part of my role is to look after your needs. You said you wanted me to stay, so here I am. And yet I find you like this.” I blink at her, completely bewildered.

“I’m sure I’m responsible, but I have no idea why. Is it because I hit you?”

She pulls herself up in bed. Her wincing doesn’t escape my view. She sits and faces me.

“Did you take some Advil?” I ask, to which she responds with a shake of her head. Will she ever listen to anything I ask her to do? I narrow my eyes, stand up, and leave the room to find her some Advil.

I find Kate busy with her packing in the living room, and ask her if she has some Advil I can take to Anastasia. She narrows her eyes at me, and gives me ‘if looks could kill’ kind of stare.

“We have some in the bathroom medicine cabinet,” she responds and adds, “remember my threat to you Grey... You better make this right!”, she says her glare not leaving me.

“I will,” I say, fill a teacup with water, and go get two Advil Gelcaps for Anastasia and walk back into the room.

 “Take these,” I order her, and I gently sit on the bed beside her as to not to disturb her. She puts the Advil into her mouth and chases it down with the water.

 “Talk to me,” I whisper, suppressing my worry. “You told me you were okay. I’d never have left you if I thought you were like this,” I say gazing into her trying to find out the reasons behind her current state. She just stares down at her hands. What’s worrying her?

She says nothing.

“I take it that when you said you were okay, you weren’t,” I say, apparently hitting the nail on the head, because she flushes.

“I thought I was fine,” she whispers still looking down at her hands.

“Anastasia, you can’t tell me what you think I want to hear. That’s not very honest,” I chide her. All relationships are based on trust, especially the one we are in. Otherwise it won’t work. “How can I trust anything you’ve said to me?”

She finally peeks up at me under the cascade of her chestnut hair. I frown at her, a bleak look in my eyes. Frustration, worry, her state raises my anxiety level making me run both my hands through my hair.

“How did you feel while I was hitting you and after?” I ask her.

“I didn’t like it. I’d rather you didn’t do it again,” she says softly.

“You weren’t meant to like it,” I tell her.

“Why do you like it then?” she asks staring up at me. Her question surprises me. It’s partly because of the beast in me that likes to see her in that state, showing me I have complete control over her, and that satisfies a need in me and arouses me.

“You really want to know?” I ask her. She may not like what I’m going to say.

“Oh, trust me, I’m fascinated,” she says with sarcasm dripping her words.  

I narrow my eyes on her again. “Careful,” I warn. She blanches.

“Are you going to hit me again?” she asks me challenging.

“No, not tonight,” I respond. I don’t want to hurt her...right now.  

“So,” she coaxes me.

“I like the control it brings me, Anastasia. I want you to behave in a particular way and if you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I’ve wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay.” She flushes. I remember her being embarrassed after she asked the question at the time she asked me once she realized what question her roommate written down.

 “So you don’t like the way I am,” she says sadly. That’s not true! I love the way she is. In fact she’s a breath of fresh air in my fucked up life. I stare at her, bewildered again. “I think you’re lovely the way you are,” I say in complete honesty. (← You're in my Heart by Rod Stewart)

“So why are you trying to change me?”

“I don’t want to change you. I’d like you to be courteous and to follow the set of rules I’ve given you and not defy me. Simple,” I say.

“But you want to punish me?”

“Yes I do.”

 “That’s what I don’t understand,” she says confused. I sigh and run my hands through my hair again completely exasperated.

“It’s the way I’m made, Anastasia. I need to control you. I need you to behave in a certain way, and if you don’t – I love to watch your beautiful alabaster skin pink and warm up under my hands. It turns me on.”

Her eyes widen, her gaze is somewhere between fear and reticence. “So it’s not the pain you’re putting me through?” she asks. I swallow. Actually it has a lot to do with it. It feeds my need to give pain to her.

“A bit, to see if you can take it, but that’s not the whole reason. It’s the fact that you are mine to do with as I see fit – ultimate control over someone else. And it turns me on. Big time, Anastasia. Look, I’m not explaining myself very well… I’ve never had to before. I’ve not really thought about this in any great depth. I’ve always been with like-minded people,” I shrug almost apologetically.

“And you still haven’t answered my question – how did you feel afterwards?” I ask her.

“Confused,” she responds.

“You were sexually aroused by it, Anastasia,” say remembering. I close my eyes with the fresh memory of it as I feel my libido rising in me. When I reopen my eyes, I gaze at her with hot, smoldering passion.  That look does something to her, and I feel her respond in kind. She enjoys it too.

In fact, a lot of desire is pulsating between us; her eyes fixed on mine with want and feral passion.

 “Don’t look at me like that,” I murmur. She frowns.

“I don’t have any condoms, Anastasia, and you know, you’re upset. Contrary to what your roommate believes, I’m not a priapic monster. So, you felt confused?” I ask her. She squirms under the scrutiny of my gaze.

“You have no problem being honest with me in print. Your e-mails always tell me exactly how you feel. Why can’t you do that in conversation? Do I intimidate you that much?” She just randomly stares at a corner of her room. Without looking at me she whispers her answer:

 “You beguile me, Christian. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the Sun.”

Her reply makes me gasp. “Well, I think you’ve got that the wrong way around,” I breathe my answer.

 “What?” she asks surprised.

“Oh, Anastasia, you’ve bewitched me body and soul. Isn’t it obvious?”

“You’ve still not answered my question. Write me an e-mail, please. But right now, I’d really like to sleep. Can I stay?” I ask her.

“Do you want to stay?” she asks me with hope in her tone.

“You wanted me here,” I respond, although I know the full meaning of her question. The answer is, yes, I want to stay. In fact there’s not another place in the planet I would rather be than this tiny bedroom in her small apartment she is sharing with her ball-crushing roommate.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she says probing.

“I’ll write you an e-mail,” I mutter nervously. I stand up and empty my pockets taking out my BlackBerry, keys, wallet, and money. I take off my watch, shoes, socks, and jeans and put them on a chair. I walk around the other side of the bed and slide next to Anastasia. My happy place. “Lie down,” I order.

She too slips slowly under the covers, wincing slightly, staring at me. She’s shocked but visibly happy to have me in her bed staying with her. How can I escape her? Doesn’t she know I’m hooked? I lean up on one elbow, stare down at Anastasia.

“If you are going to cry, cry in front of me. Please. I need to know,” I say. I don’t ever what her to be miserable in my absence.

“Do you want me to cry?” she asks curiously.

“Not particularly. I just want to know how you’re feeling. I don’t want you slipping through my fingers. Switch the light off. It’s late, and we both have to work tomorrow.”

She turns the side table lamp off, lies back down.

“Lie on your side, facing away from me,” I murmur in the darkness. I slowly move over and put my arms around her, and pull her to my chest merging our bodies.  The feeling is exquisite. Right now, she’s mine. “Sleep, baby,” I whisper inhaling her heavenly scent deeply. Then we both drift into a peaceful sleep. (← Lullaby by Dixie Chix)

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Hello Grey Fans! I worked very hard today to get this out before the weekend for the northern hemisphere readers;  and southern hemispherians will be able to read it on Saturday (your time) as opposed to early Monday. Hope everyone is well! Stop by... say hello.. tell me what you think.. <3