BOOK II - CHAPTER V - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

SHE TOOK MY HEART, SHE TOOK MY SOUL

CHAPTER V

Once we both descend from the heights of ecstasy, Anastasia opens up her eyes, and gazes into my face in some unfathomable expression. Love? (←Heaven by Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald)  My returning expression is soft and tender. I stroke my nose up against hers, making sure to hold my weight on my elbows while holding her hands by the side of her head. This way I’m in control, and though I desire her so much to touch me, I still can’t bear the thought of it. I give her a soft and gentle kiss on her lips, and slowly ease out of her.

This is where I want to be all the time, and this is part of what I’ve missed this whole week. The love, the connection, the desire, unity, and oneness of it.

“I’ve missed this,” I say in a breathy whisper.

“Me too,” she whispers back in a confession. I can’t imagine someone being in her, holding her, giving her what I want to give, fucking her, kissing her... The thought of it just drives me crazy. I take a hold of her chin and kiss her deep and hard; a passionate and a beseeching kiss. Asking her to be mine and mine alone with my kiss. Asking her to not to leave me again. She reciprocates, and is breathless after our kiss.

“Don’t leave me again,” I implore, begging her with my eyes, my face serious.

“Okay,” she whispers and smiles at me. I search her face, and seeing that she too is serious, I smile back at her with relief and elation, and youthful delight.

“Thank you for the iPad,” she says.

“You’re most welcome, Anastasia,” I respond.

“What’s your favorite song in there?” she asks.

“Now that would be telling,” I say grinning. I think quite a few of them are my favorites as they represent different memories of Anastasia and I. It’d be hard to pinpoint one. But “Possession” and “Every Breath You Take” would top the list. (Possession by Sarah McLachlan)

“Come cook me some food, wench. I’m famished,” I say giddy, sitting up suddenly and dragging Anastasia with me.

“Wench?” she asks giggly.

“Wench. Food, now, please.” I say like a man from the Middle Ages.

“Since you ask so nicely, sire, I’ll get right on to it.”

She scrambles out of the bed, and along the way her pillow is dislodged which reveals a deflated Charlie Tango helicopter balloon underneath. I reach for it, holding it in my hand and gaze up to Anastasia, puzzled with the discovery. This is the balloon I sent over along with the Bollinger when she and her roommate Kate first moved in here. She’s kept the balloon all this time?

“That’s my balloon,” she says in a proprietary tone, and reaches for her robe and wraps it around herself.

“In your bed?” I murmur questioning.

“Yes,” she flushes as she answers me. “It’s been keeping me company,” she replies.

“Lucky Charlie Tango,” I say, in surprise.

“My balloon,” she says and turns on her heel, heading out to the kitchen.

Her simple declaration makes me realize that she truly loves me, and she has missed me all this time. It wasn’t just me! My feelings are reciprocated, and Anastasia Steele loves me so much that she had to have a simple balloon I’ve sent representing something between us had kept it in her bed! Close to herself, close to her body, close to her mind! She loves me! The realization elates me and I’m grinning ear to ear.

******

When the food is finally ready, Anastasia and I sit on the Persian rug on the floor and eat stir-fry chicken and noodles from her white china bowls with chopsticks and sip child white Pinot Grigio. I lean against the couch and stretch my legs in front of me. I’m wearing my jeans commando, and t-shirt. My iPod is on and Buena Vista Social Club is crooning “Besame mucho”. How apt... ‘Kiss me a lot’. I look at her lovingly as I mouth the lyrics to her. (←Bésame Mucho by Buena Vista Social Club)

Bésame, bésame mucho Como si fuera esta noche La última vez Bésame, bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a tenerte Y perderte otra vez Bésame, bésame mucho Como si fuera esta noche La última vez Bésame, bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a tenerte Y perderte otra vez Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos Muy lejos de ti Bésame, bésame mucho Como si fuera esta noche La última vez Bésame, bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a tenerte Y perderte otra vez Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos Muy lejos de ti Bésame, bésame mucho Como si fuera esta noche La última vez Bésame, bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a tenerte Y perderte otra vez

Kiss me, kiss me a lot As if tonight were The last time Kiss me, kiss me a lot For I am afraid of having you And losing you all over again. Kiss me, kiss me a lot As if tonight were The last time Kiss me, kiss me a lot For I am afraid of having you And losing you all over again. I want to have you close to me To see myself in your eyes To see you next to me Think that perhaps tomorrow I will be far So far away from you Kiss me, kiss me a lot As if tonight were The last time Kiss me, kiss me a lot For I am afraid of having you And losing you all over again. I want to have you close to me To see myself in your eyes To see you next to me Think that perhaps tomorrow I will be far So far away from you Kiss me, kiss me a lot As if tonight were The last time Kiss me, kiss me a lot For I am afraid of having you And losing you all over again.

“This is good,” I say finally appreciatively about my food, as Anastasia made it for us...for me. She grins as she sits cross legged beside me, also finally eating heartily, beyond hungry, but not just for food, and I notice her admiring my bare feet.

“I usually do all the cooking. Kate isn’t a great cook,” she comments.

“Did your mother teach you?” I ask her.

“Not really,” she scoffs. “By the time I was interested in learning, my mom was living with Husband Number Three in Mansfield, Texas. And Ray, well, he would have lived on toast and takeout if it wasn’t for me,” she says. That comment surprises me. I would have thought she had stayed with her mother. I gaze down at her and ask, “You didn’t stay in Texas with your mom?”

“No. Steve, her husband and I, we didn’t get along. And I missed Ray. Her marriage to Steve didn’t last long. She came to her senses, I think. She never talks about him,” she adds quietly. I wonder what went wrong, what the step-father did to Anastasia to make her dislike him so much.

“So you came back to Washington to live with your stepfather,” I observe.

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Sounds like you looked after him,” I say softly. She’s a caregiver, and a considerate daughter.

“I suppose,” she says shrugging.

“You’re used to taking care of people,” I conclude. She glances up at me noticing the hidden thought in my voice.

“What is it?” she asks startled by my wary expression.

I gaze at her. She’s taken care of others all her young life. She hasn’t known what it means to be taken care of. I realize that this is why she’s apprehensive when I try to take care of her. It’s not something she’s used to.

“I want to take care of you,” I declare with all my love and passion though I try to hide them.

Her breathing increases, her lips part as she gaze searching my face. “I’ve noticed,” she whispers. “You just go about it in a strange way,” she adds with a small smile on her face.

My brow creases with her assessment. “It’s the only way I know how,” I say quietly. And it wouldn’t change a thing. We both have our issues. She’s not used to being taken care of, but then again, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t take care of her no matter how strange she finds my ways. My end goal is to make her safe, well cared for, and loved. I can’t get rid of the urge, the desire in me.

“I’m still mad at you for buying SIP,” she comments.

I smile. “I know, but you being mad, baby, wouldn’t stop me.” I’d find a way to get around it. If you know me well enough, you’d know that I’d do everything in my power to keep you safe.

“What am I going to say to my work colleagues, to Jack?”

His name boils my blood knowing what I know about him. I narrow my eyes on her. “That fucker better watch himself,” I say through my gritted teeth.

“Christian!” she admonishes me. “He’s my boss.”

Not if I could help it! But I say nothing. My mouth presses into a hard line.

“Don’t tell them,” I say.

“Don’t tell them what?” she asks.

“That I own it. The heads of agreement was signed yesterday. The news is embargoed for four weeks while the management at SIP makes some changes.”

“Oh...” she responds. “Will I be out of a job?” she asks alarmed. Not when I run the company.

“I sincerely doubt it,” I say wryly, trying to stifle a smile. The company is mine to do as I please. No one is going to dare to fire my girlfriend if he or she wants to keep his or her job! She scowls.

“If I leave and find another job, will you but that company, too?” she asks. What? Is she already contemplating to leave because I bought the SIP?

“You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” I ask as my expression alters, wary again.

“Possibly. I’m not sure you’ve given me a great deal of choice,” is her response.

Fine then. Play it that way!

“Yes, I will buy that company, too,” I say adamantly. What is it so hard for her to understand? I will go any extent to keep her safe and secure. She’s my girl! My woman! My girlfriend! All around mine, body and soul, as I am hers... She scowls at me.

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad overprotective?”

“Yes. I’m fully aware of how this looks,” I say.

“Paging Dr. Flynn,” she murmurs.

You don’t want to play that game with me Anastasia. You’ll lose. I put down my empty bowl and gaze at her impassively. She sighs, giving up. She stands up, and reaches for my bowl.

“Would you like desert?” she asks.

“Now you’re talking!” I say, giving my woman a lascivious grin.

“Not me,” she reprimands. “We have ice cream. Vanilla,” she says realizing its double meaning and snickers.

“Really?” I say as my grin gets bigger. “I think we could do something with that,” I say as I get up to my feet.

“Can I stay?” I ask Anastasia.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“The night.”

“I assumed that you were,” she says flushing. The knowledge of that makes me happy.

“Good. Where’s the ice cream?” I ask.

“In the oven,” she says smiling at me sweetly. Sarcasm from you Miss Steele? I cock my head to one side, and sigh shaking my head at her. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Miss Steele,” I say with glittering eyes.

“I could take you across my knee,” I say mischievously. She puts the bowls in the sink and turns to me.

“Do you have those silver ball things?” My eyes glint. I pat my hands down my chest, belly and pockets of my jeans. “Funny enough, I don’t carry a spare set around with me. Not much call for them in the office,” I respond.

“I’m very glad to hear it, Mr. Grey, and I thought you said that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit,” she replies.

“Well, Anastasia, my new motto is if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

She gapes at my response, and I grin back at her reaction. I turn back, and open the freezer and take out the carton of Ben & Jerry’s finest vanilla ice-cream.

“This will do just fine,” I say looking up at my beautiful girlfriend with dark eyes. “Ben & Jerry’s & Ana,” I say each word slowly, enunciating every syllable clearly giving my intent to her in plain terms.

The lascivious expression on my face makes Anastasia gape at me. I open her cutlery drawer and grab a spoon. When I look up, my eyes are hooded, heavy with desire for Ana; and my tongue skims my top teeth. Anastasia looks wanton, excited and desirous. (I’ll Make Love to You by Boyz 2 Men)

“I hope you’re warm,” I whisper. “I’m going to cool you down with this. Come,” I say holding out my hand for her and she places hers into mine.

When we get into her bedroom, I place the ice-cream on top of the side table, pull off the duvet, and remove both the pillows in a pile on the floor.

“You have a change of sheets, don’t you?” I ask as these ones will be sticky when I’m done with her. She nods with fascination. I hold up Charlie Tango balloon.

“Don’t mess with my balloon,” she warns me. Her reaction makes my lips quirk up in a smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it baby, but I do want to mess with you and these sheets,” I say and she nearly convulses with this declaration.

“I want to tie you up,” I say.

“Okay,” she whispers with anticipation.

“Just your hands. To the bed. I need you still.”

“Okay,” She whispers again, unable to say anything else. My entire body is fixed on Anastasia and I have nothing but immense desire for her. I stroll over to her without taking my eyes off hers.

“We’ll use this,” I say showing her the sash of her robe and with torturous, teasing slowness, I release the bow, and gently pull it free of the robe. As her robe falls open, Anastasia remains frozen under my sweltering gaze. Without taking my eyes off her, I push her robe off her shoulders. The garment falls and pools at her feet and she stands before me gloriously naked. My breath hitches at her beauty. My hand reaches up and I stroke her face with the backs of my knuckles to which she responds by closing her eyes lost in desire. I bend down and kiss her lips briefly.

“Lie on the bed, face up,” I murmur as my eyes darken with desire burning into hers.

She does exactly what she’s told; lying on the bed facing up in the relative darkness. The only light in the room is from the side table shines weakly. I stand by the bed gazing down at this beauty that is my girlfriend unable to break connection.

“I could look at you all day Anastasia,” I say truthfully as I crawl on the bed, up on her body, and I straddle my woman.

“Arms above your head,” I order.

She immediately complies and I fasten end of her robe sash around her left wrist and thread the end through the metal bar of her head board. I pull it tight so her left arm is flexed above her. I then tie up her right arm in the same manner tightly.

When she’s completely tied up, she stares at me, and I am now completely relaxed knowing she won’t be able to touch me. This way I’m in control. She looks at me with some unknown emotion, some certain realization. I smile.

I finally climb off her and bend down give her a quick kiss on her lips. I then stand and pull my shirt off of my head, and undo my jeans and drop them both on the floor.  

I too am naked before her, and she is assessing what is before her, liking what she’s seeing. I move to the end of the bed, and grasp her ankles, and sharply pull her downward so her arms are stretched out and she’s unable to move, completely at my beckoning.

“That’s better,” I mutter.

I finally pick up the Ben & Jerry’s vanilla ice cream, smoothly climb back on top of the bed, and straddle my woman once more who is naked beneath me just like I am. There’s nothing between us. I very slowly peel the lid off the ice-cream, and dip the spoon in.

“Hmm... it’s still quite hard,” I say raising my eyebrows. I scoop a spoonful of vanilla, and put it into my mouth. “Delicious,” I murmur, licking my lips. “Amazing how good plain old vanilla can taste,” I say gazing down at her smirking. “Want some?” I tease my woman.

She nods shyly at my question. I scoop another spoonful and offer her the spoon, and she opens her mouth, but I quickly put the spoon into my own mouth again, teasing her.

“This is too good to share,” I say smiling wickedly.

“Hey,” she protests.

“Why, Miss Steele, do you like your vanilla?” I ask with double meaning.

“Yes,” she says forcefully and tries to buck me off. I laugh at her fiery reaction. “Getting feisty, are we? I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say.

“Ice cream,” she pleads.

“Well, as you’ve pleased me so much today, Miss Steele,” I say and yield to her offering her another spoonful and let her lips close around the spoon. I scoop another spoonful and feed her once again.

“Hmm, well, this is one way to ensure you eat,” I say, adding, “Force-feed you. I could get used to this.”

I take another spoonful and offer it to her, but this time she keeps her lips closed and shakes her head. I let the ice cream melt in the spoon, and the melted ice-cream slowly drips onto her throat, onto her chest. I dip down and very slowly lick it off. She lights up with desire.

“Mmm. Tastes even better off you, Miss Steele,” I comment.

Anastasia pulls against her restraints, and her small bed creaks under our weight. Her eyes are full of burning desire. I take another spoonful and let the ice-cream melt again letting it dribble onto her breasts. With the back of the spoon, I spread the dribbles over her breast and her nipples.

Her nipples perk up and harden under the cold of the ice-cream.

“Cold?” I ask softly bending down and licking and suckling the ice-cream off her nipples and breasts. She’s cold under the ice-cream, and hot under my lips giving her an amazing sensation. It’s torturous and sensual all at the same time. I slowly continue my ministrations, and delicious torture of my lips, sucking hard, nuzzling, softly as the rivulets of melted ice-cream runs off her body onto the bed as I continue my licking and sucking while she’s writhing under me and panting hard.

“Want some?” I say, and before she can answer me, my tongue darts into her mouth, finding hers, and start its delicious assaults in her mouth making her moan with desire.

Just as she’s panting for more, I sit up, and trail a spoonful of ice-cream down the center of her body, all across her belly, and into her navel where I deposit a large dollop of ice-cream.

“Now, you’ve done this before,” I say as my eyes burn into her. “You’re going to have to stay still, or there will be ice-cream all over the bed. Her breath hitches with excitement and expectation, and I lean down and kiss each of her breasts and suck both her nipples quite hard, then follow the line of ice cream down her body, sucking and licking in delicious torture as I go.

She does her best to remain still, but, my touch, and ministrations of my tongue combined with the cold of ice-cream make her move, and she start gyrating, caught in the spell. I shift lower and start eating the ice-cream off her belly and swirl my tongue in and around her navel driving her crazy. She moans loud, but I continue my tantalizing moves. I trail the ice-cream down into her pubic hair, and onto her clitoris. She cries out loudly with passion and desire, and arousal.

“Oh...God! Please... Christian.”

“I know, baby, I know,” I breathe as I work my tongue on her sex. I don’t stop, and continue tantalizing her, working my magic, and she climbs higher, and higher. I then slip one finger inside her, and then another and start moving agonizingly slow in and out.

“Just here,” I murmur and rhythmically stroke the front wall of her vagina as I continue my relentless licking and sucking finally making Anastasia erupt into a mind-blowing orgasm making her writhe and groan. At that point I stop my ministrations. I hover over Anastasia and rip a packet of condom, pinching the tip roll it onto my length, and then I slide inside my woman hard and fast.

“Oh, yes!” I groan as I slam into her. The residual ice-cream is sticky between us, but it creates a different, distracting sensation. After a few strokes, I pull out of Anastasia, and flip her over.

“This way,” I murmur and quickly slide inside her again, but this time, I don’t start my punishing rhythm right away. I lean over and release her hands, and pull Anastasia upright so she’s practically sitting on me. My hands move up to her breasts, and I capture them both inside my palms. I start tugging on her nipples. She groans with pleasure, and tosses her head back against my shoulder. I nuzzle her neck, biting down, I flex my hips, and painfully slowly, I enter into her again, filling her to the brim.

“Do you know how much you mean to me?” I breathe into her ear.

“No,” she says with her breathy gasp.

I smile at her neck, and my fingers curl around her jaw and her throat holding onto her fast for a moment. She knows how much she means to me! I’ve shown it to her over and over again! I harrowed hell for her, I’d move heaven and earth for her. I’d die for her!

“Yes, you do. I’m not going to let you go,” I say fervently.

She groans knowing my meaning, and I pick up my speed as I slam into her, claiming her once again. It’s not just fucking. It’s not just laying claim on her. It’s my declaration of love for her, that she’s mine, and I am hers! It’s as if we always belonged to each other, and with that realization I know that we always will. I love her more than words can express!

“You are mine, Anastasia!” I declare. (Your Love is King by Sade)

“Yes, yours,” she says panting.

“I take care of what’s mine,” I hiss through my teeth and bit her ear possessively.

She cries out.

“That’s right, baby, I want to hear you,” I say.

I snake my hand around her waist while grasping her hip with the other hand, I push into her harder and faster as if there’s no tomorrow making her cry out in a punishing rhythm. My breathing grows harsher, ragged as does hers.

At this moment, both of us are full of sensation, intoxicated with each other’s presence, with our love making; it’s completely magical. She’s completely mine, and I’m completely hers.

“Come on, baby,” I growl through my gritted teeth, and we both find our release together at my beckoning.

We’re both curled up against each other, and she’s in my arms on her sticky sheets. My front is pressed to her back, and as usual, my nose is in her hair, inhaling her womanly scent deeply.

“What I fee for you frightens me,” she whispers making me completely still.

This is exactly how I feel for her. In her presence, I lose reason. I care for nothing else, not even my own life. She’s all I think about, all I care! Without her, life is a perpetual night, no light in sight. No hope. With her, I feel I can conquer the world. She’s my biggest strength as well as my greatest weakness.

“Me too, baby,” I say quietly acknowledging my own fears.

“What if you leave me?” she asks in a small voice horrified.

“I’m not going anywhere. I don’t think I could ever have my fill of you, Anastasia.” It’s not just that. Her presence relaxes me, centers me; as if I had been a lost planet, finally finding my sun.

She turns to gaze at me. I have a serious but sincere expression on. I smile, and I reach up and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I’ve never felt the way I felt when you left, Anastasia. I would move heaven and earth to avoid feeling like that again,” I confess sad and dazed remembering how my life shattered under my feet, and how everything looked bleak and life felt unbearable.

She kisses me again. With the elation she’s in my arms, and the strength her kiss gives me I ask, “Will you come with me to my father’s summer party tomorrow? It’s an annual charity thing. I said I’d go.”

She smiles but suddenly looks very shy. (←Baby I Love Your Way by Big Mountain)

“Of course I’ll come,” she says, but her face falls with some unsaid concern.

“What?” I probe.

“Nothing,” she answers. I won’t have it! She is my woman! If she has a problem, an issue, I am more than capable of fixing it.

“Tell me,” I insist. Otherwise my mind will run free and I don’t like what I am capable of thinking of.

“I have nothing to wear,” she answers. Oh good. This can be resolved easily. But, remembering how I have not returned and kept all her clothes, and knowing that she hates me buying and giving her things, I feel uncomfortable.

“Don’t be mad, but I still have all those clothes for you at home. I’m sure there are a couple of dresses in there,” I say.

She purses her lips. “Do you, now?” she mutters in a sardonic voice. But she gives in, and gets up.

She isn’t running, is she?

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“To take a shower,” she replies sweetly.

“Oh…in that case, can I join you?” She smiles.

“I thought you were.”

 When we come out of the shower, I help Anastasia take the sticky sheets off the bed, and help her put on clean sheets. We crawl under the clean, spring breeze smelling sheets. Anastasia lays her back to me, and I pull her into my embrace spooning her. Her arms reach behind her pulling my head down. She twists her head, exposing her neck. I nuzzle into her neck and I find her lips seeking mine. I return her kiss, but suddenly our kiss deepens, sweetens and goes on and on. We’re both breathless by the time I manage to break the kiss. “God, Ana! What are you doing to me?” I ask.

“I could say the same thing to you,” she replies.

“You’ve had a long day. Go to sleep baby,” I say. I hum a soft tune for her to fall asleep. Pretty soon, we both drift into sleep. (←Lullaby by Dixie Chix)

Anastasia is trashing around my arms, screaming.

“No!” she screams first.

“Who are you? Me? I’m nobody… Are you nobody, too…?” she mumbles in her sleep.

“No, God! No!” she gives out a blood curdling scream.

“Ana!” I shake her, but she won’t wake up and continues to scream as if she’s seen the face of the devil.

“Jesus Christ! Ana! Wake up baby!” I grab her shoulders and shake her awake. I can barely see her face in the dim lights that are seeping through the curtains. She’s inhaling a shaky breath, looking at her surroundings with bewildered eyes.

“Baby, are you okay? You were having a bad dream,” I tell her.

“Oh,” she replies. I turn the side table lamp on, and its dim light bathes us. I gaze down at her, my face etched with concern for her.

“The girl,” she whispers.

“What is it? What girl?” I ask soothingly as if to calm a wild animal down.

“There was a girl outside SIP when I left this evening. She looked like me... but not really,” she says and my mind immediately goes to Leila.

“When was this?” I whisper, completely dismayed. I sit up stare at her trying to get the whole story from her.

“When I left this afternoon. Do you know who she is?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say as I run a hand through my hair in exasperation.

“Who?” Anastasia asks.

My mouth goes into a taut hard line, and I say nothing. I don’t want to give her the name of an ex, and lose her again. I don’t want Anastasia running from me. I can’t handle that again!

“Who?” she probes forcefully.

“It’s Leila,” I confess finally.

Anastasia swallows with realization. She’s heard that name before. The girl who altered my iPod music selection. That’s what she knows anyway. I am quite tense. So, Leila tried to contact Anastasia. My worries are proving themselves to be right. Anastasia looks at me questioning as if to ask what’s going on.

“The girl who put ‘Toxic’ on your iPod?” she asks. Oh shit! She remembered. l glance at Anastasia anxiously. (Toxic by Britney Spears)

“Yes,” I reply. “Did she say anything?” I ask.

“She said, ‘what do you have that I don’t have?” and when I asked who she was, she said, ‘nobody.’ “

I close my eyes in pain. So, this confirms my worry. I do harm other people. I possibly harmed other women who once had been in my life. I have hurt Leila, and she may be in the predicament she’s in because of me. I have caused her to snap! I have to find her and get her the help she needs! That’s the least I can do for her considering it’s my damage! Anastasia looks at me anxiously as I climb out of the bed. I pull my jeans on, and head to the living room. It’s early in the morning. Anastasia’s clock on her side table reads five a.m.

She rolls out of bed behind me. When she comes out she’s got her shirt on. I already have dialed Welch. He answers on the third ring.

“Welch!” He sounds groggy, but, as soon as my voice registers in his head, he snaps to attention.

“Yes, Mr. Grey,” he replies completely awake.

Leila tried to contact Anastasia outside of SIP,” I summarize.

“Anastasia?” he asks, but realizes who I’m speaking of. “Oh, Miss Steele. You said outside of SIP? When sir?” he asks.

“Yes, outside of SIP, yesterday… early evening,” I reply quietly. As Anastasia moves into the kitchen, I turn to her and ask, “What time exactly?”

“About ten to six?” she mumbles in a questioning tone. My gaze is on Anastasia without leaving her out of my sight for a second. What is she thinking?

“Do you know how she found out Miss Steele, or her workplace sir?”

“That’s your job. Find out how…”

“She’s very crafty sir. Do you think Miss Steele is in danger from her?”

“Yes… I wouldn’t have said so, but then I wouldn’t have thought she could do this.” I close my eyes in pain. Leila can harm herself out there, but then I fear she may also try to harm Anastasia. The thought is scary and unsettling.

“What action do you wish us to take sir? Clearly she’s not in her right mind. What do you think she might do next?”

“I don’t know how that will go down…” I say.

“Sir, you might want to let Miss Steele know that she might be in danger. It’s important that she’s vigilant,” Welch warns me.

“Yes, I’ll talk to her…” I agree.

“It’s quite serious sir. If she is capable of finding Miss Steele’s workplace where we can’t find where she is with a lot of capable men looking for her, it spells out that the situation is extremely serious sir.”

“Yes… I know…”

“We’ll follow the information you’ve provided, and check SIP’s security cameras, sir.”

“Follow it up and let me know. Just find her, Welch… she’s in trouble. Find her,” I say and hang up.

I hear Anastasia’s tea cattle whistling.

“Do you want some tea?” she asks me impassively.

“Actually, I’d like to go back to bed,” I say looking at her meaningfully indicating just why I want to go to bed for, and it’s not for sleep. After this morning's turn of events, I just want to forget everything, and lose myself in Anastasia. She’s my panacea for every problem.

But Anastasia, being Anastasia says, “Well, I need some tea. Would you like to join me for a cup?”  Oh God! She’s going for the Spanish Inquisition. She’s rebuttaling my sex request. I run my hand through my hair again, exasperated once more. But finally say, “Yes, please,” and my irritation is already in my voice.

She senses my eyes on her. I feel uncertain about her possible reaction to what is going on right now, and my anger is very palpable at Leila for going and harassing Anastasia at work.

“What is it?” she asks me softly.

I shake my head.

“You’re not going to tell me?” she asks.

I sigh, and close my eyes, “No,” I reply.

“Why?” she probes more.

“Because it shouldn’t concern you. I don’t want you tangled up in this,” I reply. This is a problem of my own creation, and I should be the one to resolve it.

“It shouldn’t concern me, but it does. She found me and accosted me outside my office. How does she know about me? How does she know where I work? I think I have a right to know what’s going on,” she makes her case.

I run my hand through my hair again, completely frustrated knowing she’s right, and I have an internal struggle between to tell Anastasia what’s going on, and how much of what’s going on, or telling her at all. I don’t want her to run if she doesn't like what she finds out.

“Please?” she asks softly. My mouth is set into a hard grim line, and I roll my eyes at her finally acquiescing.

“Okay,” I say, resigned. “I have no idea how she found you. Maybe the photograph of us in Portland, I don’t know.” I sigh, completely frustrated at myself for putting her directly in line of danger.

Anastasia silently waits for me to say something as she pour boiling water into the teapot, and I pace back and forth in frustration. Finally I find my voice to explain her what happened while I was in Georgia with her.

“While I was with you in Georgia, Leila turned up at my apartment unannounced and made a scene in front of Gail.”

“Gail?” she asks confused.

“Mrs. Jones.”

“What do you mean, ‘made a scene’?” she asks.

I glare at her, trying to think how much to tell her, or whether to tell her anything else.

“Tell me. you’re keeping something back,” she says in a forceful tone. I blink at her tenacity, completely surprised. “Ana, I-“ I say and stop. I don’t want to tell her more than she needs to know, and involve her into my problems.

“Please?” she begs.

I sigh, knowing myself to be defeated. “She made a haphazard attempt to open a vein.”

“Oh no!” she exclaims.

“Gail got her to hospital. But Leila discharged herself before I could get there.

Anastasia gets a panicky look on her face, her mouth open, not knowing what to say.

“The shrink who saw her called it a typical cry for help. He didn’t believe her to be truly at risk – one step from suicidal ideation, he called it. But I’m not convinced. I’ve been trying to track her down since then to get her some help.”

“Did she say anything to Mrs. Jones?” asks Anastasia.

I gaze at her. I’m not feeling comfortable letting Anastasia know everything. For one, I’m too afraid of her running. Running from me. Where would that leave me? In the same perpetual hell I’ve been all last week; and if I can’t last a week, how can I last even longer?

“Not much,” I finally say.

Anastasia busies herself by pouring tea into the teacups. She looks apprehended, worried, but keeps her composure.

“You can’t find her? What about her family?” she asks.

“They don’t know where she is. Neither does her husband,” I say.

“Husband?” Anastasia says shocked.

“Yes,” I say distracted, “she’s been married for about two years,” I reply.

Anastasia turns to me abruptly in a completely shocked expression. “So she was with you while she was married?” she looks at me as if to say ‘have you no decency?’ How could she think that of me?

“No! Good God, no. She was with me nearly three years ago. Then she left and married this guy shortly afterward,” I answer her spoken and unspoken question.

She gives a visible sigh of relief. “So why is she trying to get your attention now?” she asks.

I shake my head sadly, knowing that it had to be something I might have done to her. “I don’t know. All we’ve managed to find out is that she ran out on her husband about four months ago.”

“Let me get this straight. She hasn’t been your submissive for three years?” asks Anastasia.

“About two and a half years,” I correct her.

“And she wanted more,” she probes again.

“Yes,” I reply truthfully.

“But you didn’t?” she asks more.

“You know this,” I reply in the affirmative.

“So she left you,” Anastasia concludes.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“So why is she coming to you now?” she asks the question that has been bugging me all along. Why me? Why now? And most importantly, what have I done to her?

“I don’t know,” I say, but not before my voice gives away that I have a theory.

“But you suspect...” says Anastasia correctly interpreting my meaning.

My eyes narrow with anger geared towards me and Leila. “I suspect it has something to do with you,” I tell her. I want Anastasia to be safe, and the fact that she may be in danger because of me, brings all my anger to surface. Anastasia looks surprised. Some unnamed emotion crosses her face. Not fear, but something else. She stares at me. I just realize that Anastasia met Leila yesterday, and she might have had her suspicions about who she is, knowing how bright she is. Why then didn’t she tell me about it when she saw me?

“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” I ask softly.

“I forgot about her,” she says apologetically. “You know, drinks after work, at the end of my first week. You turning up at the bar and your...testosterone rush with Jack, and when we were here. It slipped my mind. You have a habit of making me forget things,” she explains with truthful ease.

“Testosterone rush?” I say as my lips twitch into a smile.

“Yes. The pissing contest,” she explains further.

“I’ll show you a testosterone rush,” I say lasciviously.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a cup of tea?” she asks. Is that even an option? Right now, with the newly added stress, all I want to do is to take my woman to bed, and scatter my thoughts and fuck her into next week.

“No, Anastasia, I wouldn’t,” I reply with desire. My eyes burn into hers, scorching her with my I-want-you-and-I-fucking-want-you-now-so-deal-with-it look.

“Forget about her. Come,” I say holding my hand out to Anastasia. We go back to bed, and I make sure we both forget Leila, and all the grief she’s given us in the last few days.

********

As the morning lights filter through her curtains, I find myself wrapped around Anastasia, our legs tangled. Anastasia is already awake, and as I open my eyes to look into hers, she smiles at me, and says “Hi,” grinning, guilty about something. I have a feeling something is up. What has she done?

“Hi,” I answer warily. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” she says running her fingers down my happy trail. I capture her hand, narrow my eyes, and then smile at her. Has she been trying to touch me? You mischievous, delicious, irresistible girl!

I move on top of her in a flash, and press her into the mattress, my hands on her in a sweet warning. I stroke her nose with mine.

“I think you’re up to no good, Miss Steele,” I say accusingly, but still smiling. Since I don’t have proof, we’ll leave it at that.

“I like being up to no good near you,” she replies, the little sweet, undeniably sexy devil.

“You do?” I ask kissing her lightly on her lips. “Sex or breakfast?” I ask, as my eyes are dark, but humorous. My erection is digging into her as he has a mind of his own. She then tilts her pelvis up to meet mine, making her choice.

“Good choice,” I murmur against my woman’s throat, and I start trailing kisses down to her breast.

********

 After our rather busy morning with sex, we take our showers together still unable to keep our hands off each other. When we finally get out of the shower, we dry each other with Anastasia’s towels. She makes her way into her bedroom wrapped in a piece of towel, her hair piled up and wrapped in another towel. She’s before her drawers, finally trying to dry her hair with her towel. Then she tries to comb and style her long hair. She’s pulled her low rise jeans on, and a t-shirt, and I am getting dressed behind her. She gazes at my body through her mirror appraising.

“How often do you work out?” she asks.

“Every weekday,” I respond as I’m buttoning my fly.

“What do you do?”

“Run, weights, kickbox,” I say shrugging.

“Kickbox?” she asks.

“Yes, I have a personal trainer, an ex-Olympic contender who teaches me. His name is Claude. He’s very good. You’d like him.” I say.

She turns to gaze at me as I’m buttoning up my white shirt.

“What do you mean I’d like him?”

“You’d like him as a trainer,” I reply.

“Why would I need a personal trainer? I have you to keep me fit,” she says smirking at me.

I saunter over to her, and wrap my arms around her waist and our gazes lock into each other in the mirror.

“But I want you fit, baby, for what I have in mind. I’ll need you to keep up,” I say, and she flushes knowing my meaning full well. She stares into my eyes with her baby blues.

“You know you want to,” I mouth at her. She flushes. She presses her lips together as if something unwelcome is clouding her thoughts. I frown at her.

“What?” I ask concerned.

“Nothing,” she says shaking her head at me. “Okay, I’ll meet Claude,” she acquiesces.

Her response completely takes me by surprise. “You will?” I ask as my face lighting up completely astounded in disbelief. Her responding smile is brilliant. I feel like I won the grand prize in all girlfriends.

“Yes, jeez – if it makes you happy,” she scoffs.

I tighten my arms around her and kiss her cheek. “You have no idea,” I whisper. “So – what would you like to do today?” I ask as I nuzzle her.

“I’d like to get my hair cut, and um...I need to deposit a check and buy a car,” she says.

“Ah,” I respond biting my lip. I take one hand off her, and reach into my pocket and hold up the key to her Audi.

“It’s here,” I say quietly, uncertain how she will react.

“What do you mean, it’s here?” she says in rising anger.

“Taylor brought it back yesterday,” I respond. She opens her mouth and closes again. Opens and closes unable to get her words through. She opens and closes once more, completely, utterly speechless which is not often for Anastasia. She finally sticks her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, and pulls out the envelope I gave her.

“Here, this is yours,” she says.

I look at her questioning, looking at the envelope I gave her with the check in it.

“Oh no. That’s your money,” I say.

“No, it isn’t. I’d like to buy the car from you,” she responds. What is it with her and presents? Why can’t she just take what I give her? Am I that repulsive, or are my presents? My expression changes to one of fury.

“No, Anastasia. Your money, your car,” I snap at her. You’re killing me here! Take the damn car! (Killing me Softly by Roberta Flack)  

“No, Christian. My money, your car. I’ll buy it from you,” she replies.

“I gave you that car for your graduation present,” I hiss at her.

“If you’d given me a pen – that would be a suitable graduation present. You gave me an Audi,” she hisses back.

“Do you really want to argue about this?” I question her. I will give my girlfriend whatever I damn well please! Why would she have to put limitations of what and how much I can do for her?

“No.”

“Good – here are the keys,” I say and put the keys on top of her drawers.

“That’s not what I meant!” she shouts.

“End of discussion, Anastasia. Don’t push me,” I hiss back at her.

She scowls at me, then takes the envelope I gave her containing her undeposited check, and rips it into two! I gaze at her impassively. Baby, you’re trying my patience, and pushing my limits! But, you will not win this argument. I stroke my chin thoughtfully.

“You are, as ever, challenging, Miss Steele,” I say dryly. But, wait till you find out what I can do. I turn on my heel, and stalk into the living room. I find my Blackberry, and press a speed dial button to call Andrea.

“Good morning Mr. Grey,” she replies cheerfully.

“Andrea, I have a job for you, and I need it to be done as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

“I want you to deposit twenty-four thousand dollars into Anastasia Steele’s checking account.”

“Yes, sir. Let me confirm the amount. Did you say to deposit twenty-four thousand dollars into Miss Anastasia Steele’s checking account?”

“Yes, twenty-four thousand dollars. Directly.”

“Confirmed sir. The earliest this process can be completed is when the banks open on Monday.” I notice that Anastasia has entered the room, and looking at me curiously, listening to my conversation.

I glance up at her with still impassive gaze.

“Good... Monday?”

“Yes, sir, Monday.”

“Excellent.”

“Anything else I can do for you sir?” she asks.

“No that’s all, Andrea,” I respond before hanging up.

“Deposited in your bank account, Monday. Don’t play games with me,” I say boiling mad at her.

“Twenty-four thousand dollars!” she’s shouting at me. “And how do you know my account number?” I’m surprised at her fervent reaction.

“I know everything about you, Anastasia,” I say quietly.

“There’s no way my car was worth twenty-four thousand dollars,” she hisses.

“I would agree with you, but it’s about knowing your market, whether you’re buying or selling. Some lunatic out there wanted that death trap and was willing to pay that amount of money. Apparently it’s a classic. Ask Taylor if you don’t believe me,” I say quite convincing.

She glowers at me and I glower back at her. Two angry, stubborn lovers glaring at each other. All of a sudden, the charge, the electricity between us grows stronger with the heightened emotions, drawing us together. Suddenly I grab her, and push my woman against the door, my mouth on hers, claiming her hungrily as one of my hand behind her butt pressing her to my groin, and the other hand travels in the nape of her hair, and I tug her head back. Her hands travel into my hair, holding me to her. Passion rises in me exponentially, and I grind my body into hers, effectively imprisoning her, as my breathing goes ragged with all the heightened emotions. I want her, and God I want this woman now! I will never get enough of her. Everything she says or does turns me on! Even her defiance! Everything! She owns me!

“Why, why do you defy me?” I mumble between our heated kisses. She kisses me back passionately, matches my fervor in her passion.

“Because I can,” she says in a breathless voice. Her response makes me smile against her neck. I press my forehead to hers. She fucking turns me on, and sets me on fire with her every utterance, her every move, her every breath!  (←I’m on Fire by Bruce Sprinsteen)

“Lord, I want to take you know, but I’m out of condoms. I can never get enough of you. You’re a maddening, maddening woman,” I declare.

“And you make me mad,” she whispers. “In every way,” but she has passion under her tone, and I suspect, my maddening makes her hot as well. We have the same effect on each other. We’re burning for each other.

I shake my head. “Come. Let’s go out for breakfast. And I know a place you can get your hair cut,” I say.

“Okay,” she acquiesces, and our fight is effectively over.

*******

After our breakfast, the waitress brings the check, and Anastasia quickly picks it up saying “I’ll get this.” I scowl at her. Why won’t she let me take care of you?

“You have to be quick around here, Grey,” she says.

“You’re right, I do,” I say on a sour note, teasing her. She makes me hot, she makes me mad, and she makes me fall in love with her all over again every frigging second of the day!

“Don’t look so cross. I’m twenty-four thousand dollars richer than I was this morning. I can afford,” she says looking at the check, and adds, “twenty-two Dollars and sixty-seven cents for breakfast.”

“Thank you,” I say grudgingly.

“Where to now?” she asks.

“You really want your haircut?”

“Yes, look at it,” she says showing me ends of her hair.

“You look lovely to me. You always do,” I say truthfully. My response makes her blush and she stares down at her finger on her lap. “And there’s your father’s function this evening,” she says. Oh, my sweet woman! She wants to look her best!

“Remember, its black tie,” I remind her.

“Where is it?” she asks.

“At my parents’ house. They have a marquee. You know, the works.”

“What’s the charity?”

Well, the charity is actually to my honor. My parents created it. I rub my hands down my thighs, uncomfortably.

“It’s a drug rehab program for parents with young kids called Coping Together,” I say.

“Sounds like a good cause,” she replies softly.

“Come, let’s go,” I stand, ending the topic effectively. I hold out my hand to her, and soon as her fingers touch mine, I close my fingers over hers tightly. I lead her out of the restaurant, and we walk down the street. The weather is perfect. It’s a mild morning. The sun is shining brightly, the air smells morning coffee, and freshly baked bread from the nearby pastry shops.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“Surprise,” I reply.

We walk down two more blocks and the shops now look more upscale, more exclusive. I stop in front of a beauty salon called Esclava. I open the door for her. I actually own this place; well own it with Elena. Anastasia enters into the building, and she takes in the all-white and leather interior. At the pure white reception desk sits a young blond woman in a crisp white uniform. She glances up as Anastasia and I enter into the building. She lights up as recognition hits her face.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey,” she says.

“Hello Greta,” I respond.

“Is this the usual, sir?” she asks me politely. Meaning all the works of wax, and trimming for my subs.

“No,” I say quickly as I nervously glance at Anastasia hoping that she didn’t catch the meaning behind.

“Miss Steele will tell you what she wants,” I say to her, sort of dodging the bullet. Anastasia glares at me. She’s too smart to miss the meaning. Damn!

“Why here?” she hisses at me.

“I own this place, and three more like it,” I say hoping to divert her attention.

“You own it?” she gasps in unexpected surprise.

“Yes. It’s a sideline. Anyway – whatever you want, you can have it here, on the house. All sorts of massages; Swedish, shiatsu, hot stones, reflexology, seaweed baths, facials, all that stuff women like – everything. It’s done here,” I say waving my fingers dismissively hoping that she’s distracted enough.

“Waxing?” she asks.

I laugh at her question. “Yes, waxing, too. Everywhere,” I whisper to her ear conspiratorially, and for a moment she looks uncomfortable. Anastasia blushes and glances at Greta and Greta looks back at Anastasia expectantly.

“I’d like a haircut, please,” she finally says.

“Certainly, Miss Steele,” Greta replies.

Greta checks her computer screen, and says, “Franco is free in five minutes.”

“Franco’s fine,” I say to Anastasia to reassure her. He’s excellent actually. Anastasia steals a peek at me. Suddenly I blanche as my eye catches Elena! She’s not supposed to be here today! She’s supposed to be working in the other salon!

Elena is in her immaculately cut platinum blonde hair, and she has her all black work uniform.

“Excuse me,” I mumble as I hurry away to talk to Elena.

As I reach up to Elena, she notices my presence and smiles at me warmly.

“Hello Christian! What a nice surprise!” she says as she reaches up at me, kissing me on both of my cheeks. The last time I spoke to Elena was when I yelled at her over the phone the day Anastasia left me.

“Hello Elena,” I say with anxiety and barely repressed anger knowing that Anastasia hates her, and she’s here of all places. Elena notices Anastasia’s presence and her uneasy look around the place.

“You have a new sub?” she asks.

“I don’t have a new sub. That’s my girlfriend, Anastasia,” I say. Elena looks up to give another look at Ana, smiling at her politely.

“I take it that you two made up. I’m so happy for you Christian. I’d like to meet her!” she says taking a step.

“Elena! Save it! I don’t want you to meet her! She dislikes you immensely. In fact, could you just disappear while she’s getting her hair-cut here? I don’t want a scene, and she can’t know you’re, well, you!” I say.

“But, why Christian? If she knew me, she’d probably like me!” I am upset, getting madder by the minute.

“Not now Elena! I don’t want this problem today. Leave it at that! Just disappear, ok?” I say.

“Of course, Christian,” she says holding her hands up in agreement, smiling at me. “Your friendship is very important to me. If this is going to make you happy, of course I’ll respect your wishes,” she says. Her response makes me happy, and I smile at her. Then I look up to Anastasia who has a horrified look on her face. She knows that I’m talking to Mrs. Robinson! Shit! I’m in deep shit! She’s angry and she’s hurt! I’ve fucking done it again! (Heartbreaker by Taio Cruz)

Hi everyone! I think I'll try to post the next chapter Wednesday or Thursday. Hope everyone is well, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!