Chapter XVIII ← Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER?

CHAPTER XVIII

“Well done, baby,” I murmur. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” she can barely breathe a response, neither can she keep her eyes open. 

“Did you expect it to?” I whisper to her while holding her close me as my fingers push some escaped tendrils of hair off her face.

“Yes,” she answers tired.

“You see, most of your fear is in your head, Anastasia,” I say. But what I want to know is if she would want to do it again. “Would you do it again?” I ask hesitantly. She pauses for a minute, tired.

“Yes,” she answers in a soft voice, and that is my undoing. I really, truly like, like, like this woman with a strange, unnamed, elemental emotion! I hug her tightly.

“Good. So would I,” I murmur, then lean down and softly kiss the top of her head.

“And I haven’t finished with you yet,” I say, because I have been waiting for her to be in this room for days, no weeks now. Her eyes are closing as I’m wrapped around her. She turns her face into my chest, and inhales deeply, but that movement tenses me up. She opens her eyes and looks up at me. I stare down a warning glare.  

“Don’t,” I breathe to her which she flushes and looks back at me longing melting my dark heart.  (←Bad Romance by Lady Gaga)

“Kneel by the door,” I order her. Somehow my voice is chilled because of this frigging fucked up self in me. My hard limit is breached, and I try to gain my composure. She clumsily gets up into a standing position and scoots over to the door and kneels as instructed, shaky and tired. I move around her, but she’s so tired, her eyelids heavy, her head is drooping into sleep.

“Boring you, am I, Miss Steele?” I ask making her jump awake. I am standing in front of her with crossed arms glaring down at her. When her beautiful blue eyes gaze up at me, my gaze softens. There’s always something about her that tugs at my heart strings.

“Stand up,” I order her and she warily climbs to her feet.

I stare at her and my mouth quirking up into a smile.

“You’re shattered, aren’t you?” I ask. She nods shyly, flushing.

“Stamina, Miss Steele,” I say to her. (←Stamina Imma tell by Tech N9ne)  This is why I want her to work out. I narrow my eyes at her.

“I haven’t had my fill of you yet. Hold out your hands in front as if you’re praying.” She blinks at me trying to see if she heard me right.

“Praying?” she asks confused as if this is the most bizarre place to pray. But she finally does as she’s told.  I take a cable tie and fasten it around her wrists, tightening the plastic. Her eyes fly to mine with recognition.

“Look familiar?” I ask, unable to conceal my smile. She gapes up at me as adrenaline spikes though her body anew. Okay – that’s got her attention – she’s completely awake now.

 “I have scissors here,” I say holding them up for her to see.

“I can cut you out of this in a moment,” I say reassuringly.

She tries to pull her wrists apart, testing her bonds, But as she tries to pull it apart, the plastic bites into her flesh. As long as she doesn’t force to try her wrists apart, she’ll be fine; otherwise it’ll cut into her skin.

“Come,” I say taking her bound hands and lead her over to the four-poster bed. She notices that it has dark red sheets on it and a shackle at each corner, gazes up at me in curious wonderment.

“I want more – much, much more,” I lean down and whisper in her ear. And her heartbeat starts pounding speedily again. She’s excited.

“But I’ll make this quick. You’re tired. Hold on to the post,” I say. She frowns, realizing she won’t be on the bed. She parts her hands as she grasps the ornately carved wooden post.

“Lower,” I order. “Good. Don’t let go. If you do, I’ll spank you. Understand?” I warn her.

“Yes, Sir,” she says like the good girl she is.

“Good.”

I stand behind her and grasp her hips, and then quickly lift her backward so she’s bending forward, holding the post.

“Don’t let go, Anastasia,” I warn her.

“I’m going to fuck you hard from behind. Hold the post to support your weight. Understand?”

“Yes,” she says, and I smack across her behind with my hand.

“Ow…” she says, then amends her affirmation by muttering, “Yes, Sir,” quickly.

“Part your legs,” I order, and put my legs between hers, and holding her hips, I push her right leg to the side.

“That’s better. After this, I’ll let you sleep,” I say to her. I reach up and gently stroke her back.

“You have such beautiful skin, Anastasia,” I breathe as I bend down and kiss her along her spine, gentle feather-light kisses. At the same time, my hands move round to her front, palming her breasts, and as I do this I trap her nipples between my fingers and tug them gently. She stifles her moan as her whole body responds, coming alive once more for me. I gently bite and suck her at her waist, tugging her nipples, and her hands tighten on the carved bed post. My hands drop away, and take a packet of condom, and tear at the foil, and kick off my jeans.

“You have such a captivating, sexy ass, Anastasia Steele. What I’d like to do to it,” I say desirously. My hands smooth and shape each of her buttocks, then my fingers glide down, and I slip two fingers inside her.

“So wet. You never disappoint, Miss Steele,” I whisper, and there is wonder in my voice.

“Hold tight… this is going to be quick, baby,” I say grabbing her hips positioning myself, and I stand behind her and grasps her hips, and then quickly lift her backward so she’s bending forward, holding the post.

I reach over her and grab her braid near the end and wind it round my wrist to her nape holding her head in place. Very slowly I ease into her, pulling her hair at the same time… I fill her up to the brim. I ease out of her slowly, and my other hand grabs her hip, holding tight, and then I slam into her, jolting her forward.

“Hold on, Anastasia!” I shout through clenched teeth. She grips harder round the post and push back against me as I continue my merciless assault on her over and over again, my fingers digging into her hip. I feel that she’s getting weaker with the new buildup of yet another orgasm.  I continue to move roughly against her, inside her, my breathing harsh, moaning, groaning. I hear her breathing getting harsher, and her moan peaks with the inevitability of another shattering peak, as I reach my own, and I still, slamming really deep. “Come on, Ana, give it to me,” I groan which my encouragement sends her over the edge as she reaches hers. As we’re both spent I lay on the floor, Anastasia on top of me, her back to my front.

 As I nuzzle her ear, “Hold up your hands,” I say softly. She holds her arms up, and with one pass of the scissors, I cut the plastic ceremoniously and, “I declare this Ana open,” I breathe. She giggles with my declaration and rubs her wrists as they’re freed. Her giggle makes me grin; it’s the most beautiful sound on earth, because it means she’s happy, and makes me long to hear her giggling, carefree, and joyful. (←I’m on Top of the World by the Carpenters)

“That is such a lovely sound,” I say morosely. I feel guilty and grieved all of a sudden that she’s not as carefree as she could be. I sit up suddenly, taking her with me so that she’s once more sitting in my lap.

“That’s my fault,” I say and shift her so that I can rub her shoulders and arms that had been sore with our joy ride. I gently massage her. She turns back to me trying to decipher the meaning behind my last lamentation.

“That you don’t giggle more often,” I say in a forlorn voice.

“I’m not a great giggler,” she mumbles sleepily.

“Oh, but when it happens, Miss Steele, ‘tis a wonder and joy to behold,” I say my eyes are bright.

“Very flowery, Mr. Grey,” she mutters, barely trying to stay awake as her eyes are drooping.

“I’d say you’re thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep,” I say with a wicked gleam in my eyes.

“That wasn’t flowery at all,” she grumbles playfully. I grin at her as I lift her off of me, standing naked.  I pick my jeans up, slide them back on, commando.

“Don’t want to frighten Taylor, or Mrs. Jones for that matter,” I mutter playfully. I stoop down to help her to her feet and lead her to the door.  Back of the door is the gray waffle robe I hung earlier. I happily dress her like a parent dresses a small child. She’s completely spent; her limbs don’t have enough strength left to lift up. When she’s all covered up and respectable, I lean down and kiss her gently, and knowing that she’s been mine thoroughly, and mine alone, makes me beyond joyful, and pleases me immensely which is reflected in my smile.

“Bed,” I say. And the look of astonishment on her face makes me grin…Another priceless expression. “For sleep,” I add reassuringly. I scoop her up and carry her curled against my chest to her bedroom where she was examined by Dr. Greene earlier today. Her head drops against my chest in exhaustion. Pulling back the duvet, I lay her down and, climb in beside her and hold close which is something I wanted to do since yesterday.

“Sleep now, gorgeous girl,” I whisper kissing her hair. And as she’s curled into my arms, we both drift into sleep.

I wake up before she does as the sun is setting. I gaze at her completely sated and relaxed state, sleeping in my arms. I could watch her for hours. She looks so peaceful in her sleep. As I try to move my arm away from her, she stirs uneasily as if something is bothering her. I rub her hair, and nuzzle, and kiss her on top of her head instantly calming her. She relaxes. She’s comforted by my presence as I am comforted by hers. The thought makes me sigh in wonderment. She’s my perfect match. Finally I release her from my arms, and slowly move, covering her. Her arm moves looking for me. I slowly walk to the door, and hear her clear as bell:

“Christian, don’t go!”

I start saying, “I’m just...” but I realize that she’s completely asleep. She is talking in her sleep.

“Please...” she mutters worried. Stirs in the bed restless. “I love...” and moans as if something is hurting her. I go back to the bed staying on top of the covers, I lay next to her. I rub her hair again, relaxing her.

She loves what? Or rather who? I slowly move my arm away from her torso once she’s relaxed again slipping into deep sleep. I tiptoe to the door. Then I hear her voice very clearly...which stops me in my tracks: “I love you Christian! Don’t leave me...” she pleads in her sleep. My mouth drops wide open; I sit in a chair in the corner and gaze at her. What do I do with this information? I can’t even begin to process it! I’m not worthy of her love...of any love. What was it Elena said about love, “it’s a useless emotion! It erodes control...” I’ll end up breaking her heart... Fuck! (←Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz) Confused, elated, joyful, surprised, I slowly leave her room lost in thoughts to take a shower and get ready for the evening.

After I take my shower, I get dressed, and make Anastasia a drink with cranberry juice and Perrier. I bring it up to her room, and put it on her side table. It should help to give her some energy and her wake up.

I wake Anastasia up by softly brushing my lips across her temple, kissing her tenderly, but she’s too tired, and wants to remain asleep. She moans and burrows into her pillow.

“Anastasia, wake up.” I say softly, cajoling.

“No,” she moans.

“We have to leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents’.” I say amused. She opens her eyes reluctantly. Her eyes flicker to the sky outside. It’s dusk. I lean over, gazing at her intently.

“Come on sleepyhead. Get up.” I stoop down and kiss her again.

“I’ve brought you a drink. I’ll be downstairs. Don’t go back to sleep, or you’ll be in trouble,” I threaten, but my tone is mild. I kiss her briefly and leave the bedroom.

I have my iPod docked on my stereo as Frank Sinatra singing away. I’m in my trademark white linen shirt and grey flannel pants hanging on my hips. I gaze outside from my floor to ceiling window watching Seattle’s silhouette in the approaching night. My woman is in my home, getting ready to go to my parents’ house with me. It’s an odd, but then oddly comforting feeling. Yet another sign that marks her as mine.  I feel her presence before I see her. She’s admiring me. I can feel it from the energy that jolts between us whenever we are in each other’s presence. I turn and smile at her. She’s all dressed up, minus of course the underwear which are now in the captivity of my pocket. I want her to beg for it. Let’s see how she’ll respond to my little game.

“Hi,” she says, matching my smile.

“Hi,” I say back to her. “How are you feeling?” I ask giddy with amusement.

“Good, thanks. You?” she asks. I couldn’t be better.

“I feel mighty fine, Miss Steele,” I respond. Waiting for her to ask for her panties.

“Frank... Hmm. I never figured you for a Sinatra fan,” she says curiously, surprising me. I raise an eyebrow in response.

“Eclectic taste, Miss Steele,” I murmur, and pace toward her, standing in front of her with an intense gaze. I notice her breath hitches when she sees my stance. As Sinatra starts crooning Witchcraft, I trace her face with my fingertips down to her neck. She closes her eyes in ecstasy.  All of a sudden, I want to have her in my arms, and dance with her like there is no tomorrow!

“Dance with me,” I murmur in a husky voice. (← Witchcraft by Frank Sinatra)

I take the remote from my pocket, and turn up the volume. I hold my hand out to Anastasia, and once again, I long for her even though she’s right here with me. I am full of want to take her to my arms again. We’re bewitched with each other as I can see my feeling is reflected and reciprocated in her eyes. She puts her hand into my extended one. As soon as her hand touches mine, our usual connecting jolt begins to run through. With a renewed sense of desire, I pull her into my embrace, curling my free arm around her waist, and we start dancing.

She extends and puts her free hand on my shoulder, and grin up to me. We’re just couple of young people, playful, enjoying the moment.  We spin from the window to the kitchen covering the large space, whirling and twirling, and turning in time to the music. She follows my lead as we glide around the dining table, over to the piano, and backwards and forward in front of the glass wall, as Seattle is gleaming in its glittering lights. It’s the witching hour, with this bewitching woman, in this bewitching scenery with a darkening Seattle silhouette in the background, my woman in my arms, dancing to a bewitching song, sang by a bewitchingly velvety voice... She laughs in absolute joy, captivated by everything as I am; I can’t help myself but grin down at her murmuring, “There is no nicer witch than you,” and kiss her sweetly.

"Well, that’s brought some color to your cheeks Miss Steele. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet my parents?”

“You’re welcome, and yes, I can’t wait to meet them,” she answers breathlessly.

“Do you have everything you need?” I ask her with meaning. I still have her panties in my pocket, and looking forward to her begging for them.

“Oh, yes,” she responds sweetly batting her eyelashes.

“Are you sure?” I probe.

She nods nonchalantly under my intense gaze. I’m completely amused by her nonchalance. You want to go over to my parents' house in a naked ass? Anastasia Steele, you are something else! I can’t keep up with it anymore and my face splits into a huge grin, and I shake my head.

“Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it Miss Steele,” I say grabbing her hand, I collect my jacket that’s hanging on one of the bar stools, and lead her to the foyer to the elevator get down to the garage.

When we’re in the elevator, he gaze drifts up to my face. I know she has nothing under her beautiful dress, and I would like to see how far she’ll manage with that. I think the idea is hot. She’s going to my parents’ house with nothing under her dress. Knowing how shy she is, I bet she’s regretting that decision now. My mind is reeling with the kinds of games I can put her through tonight. Oh, baby, you brought this on and I aim to play! Let’s see how far you can play... The elevator descends down speedily and smoothly. But the usual charge between us builds up again, and my mind goes back to Heathman Hotel’s elevator. Someday, I’m going to fuck her in this elevator, but not right now. I feel my eyes darken with desire for her as our eyes lock. But, the elevator door dings open, and the magic is still hanging in the air. I close my eyes, and try to shake the clouds away from my head. I gesture her to exit before me from the elevators in a gentlemanly manner, but there is nothing gentlemanly in my thoughts about her. And she knows it!

Taylor drives up the Audi SUV. I open the rear door for Anastasia, and she tries to climb inside as lady like as possible trying not to show her naked ass. The purple dress is clingy, and hangs on top of her knees. Otherwise, I would have been too jealous.

We speed up to I-5 freeway, both of us quiet for a while. My mind is like a tornado. I look out from my window to the darkening city sitting next to the woman who captivated me in the last few weeks. Now I’m taking her to meet my family...officially, as my girlfriend. What is happening to me? I like her immensely. I can’t sort my feelings out for her. In one hand, I like my independence. I like my dominance. Who am I lying to? I love my dominance; I don’t think I can give it up! I love my lifestyle... But then here she is threatening everything I’ve come to know and love with her fragile, girly self, effortlessly. If I’m not around her, I’m miserable! I make everyone else miserable. I find myself thinking of her every waking moment, and in my sleep. I have these unnamed emotions that are driving me crazy! I get jealous even someone mentions her name as if it’s something sacred that they shouldn’t talk about without having a month’s ablutions. What is she doing to me? I’m lost in myself, and drowning in my thoughts. I long for her though she’s sitting next to me.

“Where did you learn to dance?” she asks in a soft voice hesitantly. That brings me out of my reveries, but not out of my drowning misery. I turn my gaze at her, sadness covering my eyes.

“Do you really want to know?” I reply softly.

I can’t see her well in the dark, but the passing light shines a glimpse at her falling face.

“Yes,” she murmurs reluctantly.

“Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing,” I say. She sighs.

“She must have been a good teacher,” she responds.

“She was,” I say truthfully, softly.

I try to see her face in the dark. Some sad emotions flicker through, but then I see a glimpse of a smile. Her hands rub her wrists reflexively. She must be thinking of our afternoon liaison. Her gaze falls again, and she fixes her sight outside the window, and gets lost in a sad thought of her own. I don’t want her to feel sorry for me. She worries about my past relationship with Elena. She’s my past now. She inhales a stuttering breath as if she’s barely holding onto her emotions.

“Don’t,” I murmur.

She turns her head to me. “Don’t what?” she asks confused.

“Over-think things, Anastasia,” I say, unable to resist her pull. I reach out, grasp her hand, and draw them up to my lips, and kiss her knuckles gently. “I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you.” I say.  She blinks up to me, and smiles shyly.

“Why did you use a cable tie?” she ask me whispering making me grin at her.

“It’s quick, easy, and something different for you to feel and experience. I know they’re quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device,” I say smiling. “Very effective at keeping you in your place.”

She flushes nervously as her gaze glances over at Taylor. He’s impassive and his eyes are on the road. Taylor had known my lifestyle since the day one. He’s my most trusted employee, and head of my personal security. It’s all part of the package that I am. I shrug.

“All part of my world Anastasia,” I say, squeezing her hand, then let it go, and stare out the window again. She too turns her head, and stares out the window, lost in her thoughts again. I turn to look at her. Everything about her pulls and tugs at my heart strings. She looks like she's closed in, suffocating. She feels my glance on her and turns her head to look up to me.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.

She sighs and frowns.

“That bad, huh?”

“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” she says surprising me. I smirk at her.

“Ditto, baby,” I say softly. How I wish to know what you were thinking.

Finally the scenery changes, and just before eight, the Audi drives into the driveway of my parents’ colonial style mansion. It’s a picture perfect place.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask her as we pull up to the door. She nods, and I give her hand another reassuring squeeze. She’s nervous, meeting a guy’s parents for the first time, but then again, it’s a first for me too.

“First for me, too,” I whisper and smile wickedly at her, knowing now that she is probably regretting not having any underwear. “Bet you wish you were wearing your underwear right now,” I whisper teasing her. She flushes beet red. Taylor has climbed out of the door, and opening Anastasia’ door. She scowls at me, and I grin broadly in return, climbing out of the car.

My mother, Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey is on the doorstep waiting for us. She’s in an elegantly sophisticated pale blue silk dress. Behind her is my father in his tall, blonde and handsome demeanor.

“Anastasia, you’ve met my mother, Grace. This is my dad, Carrick,” I introduce my parents to her.

“Mr. Grey, what a pleasure to meet you,” she smiles and shakes his proffered hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, Anastasia,” he responds politely.

“Please, call me Ana.” His blue eyes soften.

“Ana, how lovely to see you again,” says mom wrapping her arms around Anastasia. “Come in, my dear.”

“Is she here?” we hear a screech from within the house. Of course it’s Mia.

“That would be Mia, my little sister,” I say irritably, but lovingly. I love her more than she irritates me. Sure enough, Mia comes barreling down the hall, raven haired, tall, and curvaceous.

“Anastasia! I’ve heard so much about you.” She says hugging her hard.

“Ana, please,” she murmurs as Mia drags her to the vestibule.

“He’s never brought a girl home before,” says Mia with her dark blue eyes alight with excitement.

“Mia, calm down,” my mother admonishes her.

“Hello darling,” she greets me while kissing me on both cheeks. I smile down at her, and shake my father’s hand. We all turn and head into the living room, while Mia is still clutching Anastasia’s hand. When we enter into the elegantly decorated living room, we find Kate and Elliot are cuddling together on a couch, clutching champagne flutes. As Mia finally releases Anastasia’ hand, “Hi Ana!” beams Kate meanwhile giving me a “Christian,” curt acknowledgement.

“Kate,” I return her sentiment. Anastasia frowns at our exchange. Elliot, the fondler, grasps Anastasia into an all-embracing hug. I stand by Anastasia’s side wrapping my arms around her possessively placing my hand on her hip; I spread my fingers and pull her to me. Everyone is staring at her, at us. Anastasia feels uneasy.

“Drinks?” my father asks finally recovering himself after seeing the confirmation that his son is NOT gay. “Prosecco?”

“Please,” Anastasia and I speak in unison. This is strange. Mia claps her hands in our synchronized response.

“You’re even saying the same things. I’ll get them,” she says, speedily leaving the room. Anastasia flushes. When she glances back at Kate and Elliot again, her gaze changes. It saddens; she gets a bleak and depressed look. What just happened? Why is she upset?

“Dinner’s almost ready,” my mother says as she follows Mia out of the room. I gaze at her, and frown at her expression. What is wrong? Why is she upset?

“Sit,” I command pointing to a plush couch. She does as she’s told, carefully crossing her legs. I sit beside her, but I don’t touch her.

“We were just talking about vacations, Ana,” says my father kindly.

“Elliot decided to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week.” When we look up to Kate, she’s grinning in absolute delight.

“Are you taking a break now you’ve finished your degree?” my father asks.

“I’m thinking of going to Georgia for a few days,” she replies. I’m completely shocked; stare at Anastasia gaping at her. This is news to me. Why hasn’t she ever mentioned that to me? How can I handle her absence? Is she running away from me? I now think of her writing to me in her e-mail, if she had half the mind she’d run to Alaska. Is this her version of running away?

“Georgia?” I murmur questioning.

“My mother lives there, and I haven’t seen her for a while,” she replies.

“When were you thinking of going?” I ask in a low, barely controlled voice. My anxiety level has shot up many times over my tolerable limit.

“Tomorrow, late evening,” she responds as I’m trying to process that information. Right now, I want to take her, spank her, and fuck her like there’s no tomorrow! I’m barely containing myself in my seat with the company around. My gaze is fixed on her.

My sister Mia saunters back into the living room, and hands each of us champagne flutes filled with pale pink Prosecco.

“Your good health!” my father raises his glass. I couldn’t care less. Shit! She’s leaving! She’s running! Shit! Double shit! I can barely control my breathing. How can I stay without her?

“For how long?” I ask in a deceptively soft voice. It’s anything but. I’m beyond angry.

“I don’t know yet. It will depend how my interviews go tomorrow.”

My jaw clenches, and Kate the ball-crusher gets that interfering look on her face. Shit! I could care less for her right now!

“Ana deserves a break,” she says pointedly at me; antagonism seeping through her.

“You have interviews?” my father inquires.

“Yes sir, for internships at two publishers tomorrow,” replies Anastasia.

“I wish you best of luck.”

“Dinner is on the table,” my mother announces.

We all stand. Kate and Elliot follow my dad and Mia out of the room. As Anastasia gets ready to follow, I clutch her elbow, bringing her to an abrupt stop.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?” I ask her urgently. My tone is soft covering my barely contained anger, ready to erupt.

“I’m not leaving. I’m going to see my mother, and I was only thinking about it,” she responds.

“What about our arrangement?” I ask her fervently. I thought we made a deal.

“We don’t have an arrangement yet,” she responds.  

My eyes narrow, I’m ready to punish her, but, this isn’t the place for it, and she hasn’t signed yet. Damn! I take her elbow, and lead her out of the room.

“This conversation is NOT over yet,” I whisper threateningly as we enter the dining room.

What else will this night bring? I’m upset, uptight, irritated, confined, and right now, I like to spank the crap out of her, and fuck her for good measure. Shit!

Breath, Grey, breathe! I remind myself as I pull Anastasia’s chair next to mine as my eyes fixed on her, watching her like a hawk. I can’t let her slip through my fingers, and she’s running from me. She wasn’t even going to tell me. Shit! I can’t breathe! I close my eyes, and count...very slowly... One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten...

Still no relief... Fuck! I swallow. Ten again... Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one...

Easy breathing. I notice Mia taking a seat next to me, and grabbing my hand, squeezing it tightly, taking me out of my reveries. I smile at her warmly.

Temporary relief floods me... until I gaze back at the Miss Independent again. (←I’m Afraid of Losing You by A Rocket to the Moon)

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