BOOK II - CHAPTER XI - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

EYES ON THE PRIZE

CHAPTER XI

If you told me a month ago that I’d be here in my boat with an angel like this, I would have never believed it. Yet,here I am, completely sated, utterly in love with Anastasia, who is asleep inmy arms, in my catamaran we christened rather passionately. (←I’ll Make Love to You by Boyz II Men)

I lean over Anastasia, and trail kisses from the corner of her eyes to the corner of her lips.

“Baby, Mac will be back soon,” I say as her eyes flicker open to meet mine half asleep.

“Hmm...” is all she can say still tired. I gave her a good workout. My boat bobs in the water lazily, reflecting our mood, and the light dancing above the water is reflected through small portholes over the cabin’s ceiling.

“I would really like to lie here with you all afternoon baby, but Mac will need a hand with the dinghy.” Anastasia smiles lazily; her smile an invitation, love, sight of heaven all at once. “Ana, you look so beautiful right now, all mussed up and sexy. Makes me want you more,” I say. But, Mac is due soon, and I don’t want to entertain him with the sounds of my girlfriend in the throes of ecstasy. I get up from the bed as Anastasia rolls over to her front still admiring the view.

“You ain’t so bad yourself, captain,” she says smacking her lips in admiration. You’re killing me here! I can’t jump back into the bed right now. But, I move about the cabin efficiently and get dressed. I sit on the bed beside Anastasia, and put my shoes on.

“Captain, eh?” I say dryly, “well, I am the master of this vessel.”

She looks at me in awe, and admiration cocking her head to the side. “You are the master of my heart, Mr. Grey,” she whispers. (←Two Is Better Than One by Boys Like Girls ft. Taylor Swift)

It is still hard to believe for me that this beautiful creature, this innocent girl could love me. I shake my head and bend down to kiss her. “I’ll be on deck. There’s a shower in the bathroom if you want to take one. Do you need anything? A drink?” I ask regarding her carefully. She has that silly grin on her face that is getting only bigger by the minute.

“What?” I ask, wondering what is going on in that beautiful head of hers.

“You,” she answers cryptically.

“What about me?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Christian?” she asks. Never too far, baby, never too far. That Christian is always under the surface, on the top, infused in me. I can only give her a sad smile.

“He’s not very far away, baby,” I respond softly, forlorn. I shake my head to dispel the thoughts.

“You’ll see him soon enough,” I smirk lightening up the mood, “especially if you don’t get up.” Then I reach over to her exposed two round orbs of delectable buttocks and smack her behind so hard, my hand leaves a palm print across both the cheeks pink in color. Anastasia yelps in surprise but starts laughing hard.

“You had me worried,” she says.

“Did I, now?” I say my brow taking the shape of letter V. She confuses me, a lot with all her mixed signals. How do you want me Ana? Dominant or loving, vanilla or kinky? (←Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars)

“You do give off some mixed signals, Anastasia. How’s a man supposed to keep up?” I ask reflecting my confusion as I lean down and kiss her.

“Laters, baby,” I say smiling, and get up and leave to find Mac who should be now back on board. When I get back on deck, I see him just pulling the rubber boat and securing it. He gives me an acknowledging nod as he goes on his business.

“Mac, as soon as you’re ready, we can leave back to Seattle.”

“Yes, sir,” he says in his usual cheerful demeanor. I’m startled by the ringing of my Blackberry. I usually have it on vibrate. It’s Taylor. I hope there isn’t a problem. I don’t want to spoil my great day with bad news. I brace myself for anything, and answer the phone.

“Grey.”

“Sir, we have completed a thorough search around the apartment, and all entry points. We found where Leila entered into the apartment,” he says somberly.

“Where?” I say through gritted teeth.

“The fire escape stairwell, sir. But we’ve secured everything.” So, Anastasia wasn’t dreaming; Leila was in the apartment at the foot of the bed, looking at her, trying to decide what to do with her. I try to push away the dark thoughts of what could have happened. But, this is progress. The apartment is secure now.

“Great news...”

“I wasn’t sure if she had keys to the building, but, we suspect that she did as all the evidence points that she might have had a key with her to the premises. So, we’ve changed all the locks.”

“Good.”

“Are you still out sailing sir?”

“Yeah...”

“Uhm... One more thing. We believe that Leila was still hiding in the building when you and Miss Steele left.” That bit of information makes me uneasy.

“Really?” I say through gritted teeth.

“Yes sir. We believe that she was still hiding in the fire escape stairwell.”

“The fire escape stairwell?” I ask. I looked out into the balcony, and I didn’t see anyone, but it was quite dark outside, and from what Anastasia said, she was wearing a black outfit.

“The stairwell is not like the other buildings’ sir. It sort of curves, and if you duck enough, given her size, and given the fact that she was incognito\ she would have been completely. I checked it with Sawyer. Despite his size, he could hide pretty well, sir.”

“I see...”

I feel Anastasia’s gaze on me, and turning over I find her watching me. I leisurely walk over to her, and pull her into my embrace, kissing her hair.

“Since the building as well as the penthouse is secured, will you be coming back to Escala, sir?”

“Yes, tonight. And the hotel?” I reply.

“I’ve taken the liberty to check you out after we did a sweep of The Grace sir. I’ve already collected Miss Steele and your belongings. You can just come home directly, sir,” he says.

“Great,” I say and end the call.

Mac having readied the boat, we feel the engines firing up.

“Time to head back,” I say to Anastasia as I kiss her after one of the best days of my life, and take her hand and put the life jacket on, and secure it with a grin.

*****

As we sail back towards the marina in Seattle, and I turn to Anastasia, and say, “baby, I need you to help,” I say. There is no time like the present if I want to teach her sailing, and take her out with me in the future. There’s a sudden gleam in her eyes.

“Let’s furl the mainsail!” I shout over the wind.

“Okay!”

“In order to furl the mainsail, you must begin by putting the boat head to wind. We have to put the boat into position. And to avoid any tangles, check carefully that the main halyard is free to run,” I instruct her, and she looks at me as if I started speaking pig Latin.

“Whoa! Easy there tiger! Is this English?” she asks sheepishly. “I think you must have lapsed into Swedish or French. The only words I got are ‘wind, free, and run’, and I don’t know how they fit into the sentence!” she shouts. I grin wide at her assessment. I love teaching her, just about anything.

“Come with me, I’ll show you.” I walk her to the jammer. I hold her hand tugging her to the jammer.

“We first have to make sure that the lazy-jacks have been taken in and the mainsheet is freed. Take the halyard in slightly, to open the jammer.”

“Uhm, how?” she asks. I show it to her, and she is observing me keenly.

“Then, in order to avoid the sail coming down all at once, and to control it as it comes down, you need to keep a turn around the winch.”

“Show me,” she says making me grin. I show her, and bring the mainsail down. Mac rushes to help fold it correctly.

“Okay, Anastasia. Now that the sail is down, we need to cleat the halyard and close the easy bag,” I say.

“Huh?” is her response which makes Mac laugh hard.

“Do you want me show her mate?” he asks eagerly.

“I got it Mack,” I say firmly, as he holds his hands in a gesture of giving up.

“Now baby, we need to stow the halyards and sheets...”

“Christian? What the hell is a halyard?” she asks making me grin ear to ear.

I hold the halyards up and show her, “this rope used for raising and lowering a sail, spar, yard on a sailing ship is called halyard.”

“Oh!” she nods understanding, “but why can’t you just call it a rope?”

“Because it’s called a halyard.”

“Aha.. So when the ropes climb aboard a ship, they’re called a halyard.”

“This kind, yes,” I reply grinning. She looks dazed with information overload.

“Okay moving onto stowing the headsail, and the spinnaker,” I say. By the time we’re docked, Anastasia has been shown how to tie a clove hitch, a reef knot, and a sheepshank. That obviously is my most favorite part.

“I may tie you up one day,” she mutters overwhelmed with all she had to learn. That would be something to see, though I don’t know if I could trust her with that knowing how inept she is in making knots. She may not be able to untie what she has tied. I smile at her and say, “You’ll have to catch me first Miss Steele.”

The gleam in her eyes leaves her and sudden panic and worry take in its place. The thoughts of the night she left me come unbidden, and I know that’s what she’s thinking too. I go to her, and hold her in my arms without saying anything trying to reassure her, or maybe reassure myself that this won’t happen again. She looks up at me with love and emotion.  (←I Melt With You sung by Nouvelle Vague)

“Come; let me show you everything about my boat! I’m quite proud of it actually!” I say, and show her all the innovative designs we’ve used to build it, and I realize at this moment that I not only want to share my body with her, but my other passions-my passion for sailing, for flying, for green energy, for feeding the world! I want her with me for the long haul! Not as a disposable, an employee whose function is to occupy my playroom. She’s my everything! Why shouldn’t I show her everything that I’m about?

As we approach closer and closer to the marina, as we watch city of Seattle appear in the horizon and get bigger and bigger as we sail, I sit on my captain’s chair with Anastasia in my arms, safely, silently. I put her in charge of the wheel, and I want her to learn to get comfortable with it. There is no place on earth I’d rather be right now than with Anastasia in my arms doing what I love. (←Sometimes When We Touch by Rod Stewart)

“There is poetry in sailing as old as the world,” I murmur into Anastasia’s ear.

“That sounds like a quote,” she responds making me grin. “Yes, it is. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.”  With that she light up.

“Oh! I adore The Little Prince,” she replies.

“Me, too.”

‘You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed,’ quote comes to my mind. I hope, I hope that Anastasia is in my life forever, because she alone captured, and tamed however possible my unconquerable heart.

*****

By the time we make it back into the marina, it’s the golden hour, my hand covering Anastasia’s we steer into the marina. The rays of sun are still shimmering in the west over the horizon over the Pacific. But the lights from the city and the boats in the marina are now reflected over the darkening waters creating phosphorescence with twinkling lights. As I back The Grace into the berth, a group of spectators gather on the dockside. Naturally, this is a beautiful boat to look at, and one that does me proud. Once I’m in my allocated space safely, Mac jumps to the doc, and secures the boat to a bollard.

It’s bittersweet that the trip is over, but, one I will not forget. “Back again,” I murmur melancholy.

“Thank you,” whispers Anastasia grateful, and shy all at the same time. “That was a perfect afternoon,” she says making me grin. I loved this experience, and I would really love her to come with me, preferably alone, which means she needs to learn how to sail.

“I thought so too,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe we can enroll you in a sailing school, that way just the two of us can go for sailing for a few days,” I say. My thought brightens Anastasia immediately.

“I’d love that! We can christen the bedroom again and again,” she says, making me hot and desirous.  I lean in and kiss her right under her ear. “Hmm... I look forward to it, Anastasia,” I whisper in a husky voice with salacity.

I pull Anastasia out of her dirty thoughts –I know because, I put them there, and take her ashore.

“Come, the apartment is clean. We can go back,” I say.

“What about our things at the hotel?” she asks.

“Taylor has already collected them. We don’t have need to do anything.”

Anastasia looks at me questioning.

“Earlier today, after he did a sweep of The Grace with his team.”

“Does that poor man ever sleep?” asks Anastasia with concern. Why is she concerned about him?

“He sleeps,” I answer her bemused. “He’s just doing his job Anastasia, which he’s very good at. Jason’s a real find.”

“Who’s Jason?”

“Jason Taylor.”

Anastasia smiles affectionately after hearing Taylor’s full name.

“You’re fond of Taylor,” I state noticing, eyeing her, jealousy rising in me.

“I suppose I am,” she says, and her answer makes my heart stop for a second. Does she like him... a lot? I frown, jealousy rising in me. This is my woman! And she likes Taylor! Oh, no! No! My face falls.

“I’m not attracted to him, if that’s why you’re frowning. Stop!” she scolds me. I stare at her without blinking trying to assess her expression. I worry... I worry that she’ll stop loving me. (←Fade to Grey by Nouvelle Vague)

“I think Taylor looks after you very well. That’s why I like him. He seems kind, reliable and loyal. He has an avuncular appeal to me,” she explains.

“Avuncular?” I ask. How so?

“Yes.”

“Okay, avuncular,” I say. I can live with that. For a minute I thought I was going to fire my best security guy. I give a sigh of relief, and this makes Anastasia laugh out loud.

“Oh, Christian, grow up, for God’s sake,” she scolds me. She actually scolds me! My mouth drops open in shock, completely derailed by her reaction. I ought to. I know. It’s just... all bets are off when it comes to Anastasia. I feel jealous, protective...over protective, watchful, possessive, immature... and those are only a few of the emotions I feel when Anastasia is concerned. I’m new to this!

“I’m trying,” I respond quietly. I really am. It’s just that, not only am I completely fucked up, but I am in love which is an exhausting combination. Her face softens.

“That you are. Very,” she says, and rolls her eyes at me, always trying, always pushing, all against my fucked up nature. I grin. “What memories you evoke when you roll your eyes at me, Anastasia,” I say.

To my utter shock she responds, “Well, Mr. Grey, if you truly behave yourself, perhaps we can relive some of those memories.” And her response tugs at my heart strings, making me excited, want her that way; in fact my palms start twitching.

I can barely contain the smile off my face. “Really Miss Steele. What makes you think I want to relive them?” I question her. She gives me a knowing smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because the way your eyes lit up like the Christmas tree when I said that,” she says dryly.

“You know me so well already, baby.”

“I like to know you better,” she replies making me want her more at this moment.

“And I you, Anastasia.”

Mac comes to the dock to see us off. I shake his hand, and thank him.

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Grey, and good bye. Great to meet you, Ana,” he says shaking her hand. Anastasia flushes, shy, probably thinking Mac has a very clear idea that we were dancing in the sheets. I’m quite sure he knew that and of course it’s perfectly fine by me, as long as everyone knows who Anastasia belongs to.

“Good day Mac, and thank you,” she replies to which Mac smiles and he winks at her. Anastasia flushes even more. I take my girlfriend’s hand and walk on the marina’s promenade.

“Where’s Mac from?” she asks curiously.

“Ireland or rather Northern Ireland.”

“Is he a friend of yours?” she asks and I consider this question. I don’t have friends, but he’s one of the people who could possibly be accounted as such.

“Mac works for me, and he helped built The Grace,” I reply not completely knowing if he was my friend.

“Do you have many friends?” she asks.

It’s complicated. I have a hard time trusting people, and am unable to cultivate that sort of relationship, and neither do I have any interest to do so. The only one I consider a friend is Elena. The thought makes me frown. “No, not really. Doing what I do...” I say letting the thought hang in there. “I don’t cultivate friendships.” My position in business, my predilections, always being the top dog... the reasons are endless. “There’s only...” there is only Elena, but I don’t say that.

“Are you hungry?” I ask by the way of changing the topic.

“Starving,” she replies. That’s music to my ears.

“Great! We’ll eat where I left the car. Let’s go!”

I take her to a small Italian restaurant called Bee’s. It’s a small Italian bistro with good food. The hostess whisks us to a booth, and I order Frascati which is promptly delivered. It’s very supple, and velvety, sapid sparkling wine; goes down smoothly. Anastasia is studying the menu as if the secrets of the universe are written in it. She really must be hungry! I can’t help but keep gazing at her. When she feels intensity of my gaze, she looks up.

“What?” she asks.

“You look lovely, Anastasia. The outdoors agrees with you.” Even the compliments embarrass her. (←I’ll Give All My Love To You by Keith Sweat)

“I feel rather wind burned to tell the truth. But I had a lovely afternoon. In fact it was perfect. Thank you,” she says. Knowing that I made Anastasia happy today warms up my heart, makes me happy, accomplished. “My pleasure,” is all I can whisper.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything Anastasia. You know that,” I reply, cocking my head to the side, I give all my attention to her.

“You don’t seem to have many friends. Why is that?”

I don’t think I’ve made a special effort to make friends. I haven’t thought about it, I had been occupied with business, or with my other contractual relationships. “I told you, I don’t really have time. I have of course business associates, but that’s not the same as friendship, I suppose. I have my family, and that’s about it – that is apart from Elena.”

Anastasia, I notice conveniently ignores Elena’s name, and in a way her jealousy makes me happy. That means she too is proprietor towards me.

“Don’t you have any male friends your own age that you can go out with and let off steam?” she asks. She knows me better than that. I have no desire in dressing up in matching football jerseys and painted faces to consume cheap beer and shout profanities at the opposing team. That’s just not me.

“You know how I like to let off my steam, Ana,” I say as I give her a wicked smile. “For the most part, I’ve spent my time working, building up my company.” I’ve had to bypass a lot of things that my peers found normal. “That’s all I do, except sail and fly occasionally.”

She probes further, “Not even when you were in college?”

“Not really. Didn’t need to.”

“Just Elena, then?” she asks with distaste as if she just swallowed a particularly nasty looking bug. I nod warily.  “It must be lonely,” she replies forlorn.

Okay, we’ve been in this conversation long enough. And especially when Elena is mentioned a few times, I know her taste will go, and I like to keep having a good time, possibly way into the night.

“What would you like to eat?” I ask and the subject is closed. She tells me she decided on risotto. But her mood has shifted, and she’s someplace else. Fuck! I knew it! Whenever Elena comes up, there goes her mood! She’s not talkative anymore, and she’s got that ‘Anastasia-checked-out-come-back-later’, look, her gaze is locked on her knotted fingers.

“Anastasia, what’s wrong? Please tell me,” I plead concern lacing my voice. I get anxious when she’s like that. As if she’s going to decide against us any minute. It’s so fucking ominous! (←Love After War by Robin Thicke)

She glances at me warily.

“Ana, tell me,” I say fervently. Don’t scare me like that! Is it Elena? She’s old news! My heart is at my throat, ready to jump the ship any minute.

She takes a deep breath. Oh God! It’s bad!

“I’m really worried that this isn’t enough for you...to let off steam.” Why are you torturing me like this Ana? I’m doing all I can to make her happy. Wanting more with her...doing more, and yet she doubts me at every turn.

“Have I given you any indication that this isn’t enough for me?”

“No.”
“Then why do you think that?” always say that...

“I know what you’re like. Rather what you,” she says taking a breath, looking into my eyes. She adds in a lower voice unable to bring out all she wants to say... “What you...need.”

What does she think I need? What would I possibly need more than I need her? Does she realize how she tortures me so when she says that? I close my eyes, and feel an approaching headache and rub my head.

“What do I have to do?” I ask in a very low voice. Please tell me, so I do that to erase all your doubts!

“No, you misunderstand me, Christian. You have been completely amazing, and though I know it’s only been a few days, but, I fear that I’m forcing you to be someone you’re not,” she says worried, swallowing.  (←All The Man I Need by Whitney Houston)

“I’m still me, Ana. Completely in all my fifty shades of fuckedupness. I realize that I have to fight the urge to be controlling, but you must realize that this is my nature, and that’s how I’ve dealt with my life. And yes, I expect you to behave a certain way, and of course when you don’t” I say looking up to her, “it’s both refreshing and challenging. But we still do what I like to do. You let me spank you after your outrageous bid yesterday,” I say, realizing that she found a certain medium to do what she wants, but then, she cleverly appeases my needs in such a way that I couldn’t possibly want something or someone else. She’s as addicting as the air I breathe. If she was a certain brand of drug, I would only need her in my lows, and I would know that she’d be to my detriment. But, she’s like the air I breathe. I need her every second of every day and every night to be alive, to survive, and to thrive. She’s my lifeline, and she almost always forgets that. You can wean yourself of a drug, but of life? I can’t do that.

“I enjoy punishing you. I don’t think the urge will ever but, but I’m trying and suffice to say, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be,” I say.

Anastasia flushes this time with desire, remembering what we did in my bedroom. “I didn’t mind that,” she whispers as if the whole restaurant would be listening.

“I know,” I say, remembering how much effort it took to get her in there after my sister stole her twice. “Neither did I, but, Anastasia, I want to tell you that this is all new to me. All these experiences... In fact, the last few days have been the best of my life, ever. I don’t want to change anything,” I say fervently, willing her to believe me.

Anastasia lights up with my declaration. “They’ve been the best in my life too, Christian. No exceptions,” she declares, making me smile wide.

Then she drops the ball on me. “But, you don’t want to take me into your playroom?” My face falls, blood drains, I get anxious. I don’t want her in there. I can’t! She left me, and I can’t handle what I become in that room. I can’t do that!

“No, I don’t,” I say firmly.

She shocks me yet again with her next question, “why not?” She’s almost scolding me.

How could she be so imperceptive? Was I the only one in that room when she left me?

“The last time we were in that room, you left me,” I say in sorrow, reliving the moment. I can’t handle that experience again. My heart and my soul were ripped away from me. “I will definitely shy away from anything that could make me feel that way again. I have never experienced such devastation in my life; I’m unable to word it. I would never ever want to feel like that again, Ana. I’ve told you how I feel about you,” I say willing her to understand what loving her means to me.

“But, Christian, it is hardly fair to you. I feel that it can’t be very relaxing for you...you know, to be constantly keep feeling  concerned about how I feel. I know you’ve made so many changes for me, and I feel...” she sighs, “I feel I should at least reciprocate in some way. I don’t know, perhaps, try some role playing games,” she says going completely crimson before me.

“You do reciprocate Ana, and more than you know. Please, baby, please don’t feel like this,” I say with fear creeping into my eyes. I remember that when she left me, her main fear was that she would never be enough, or that we wouldn’t be compatible. I don’t want her to think that way. I can’t handle it.

“Baby, it’s just been one single weekend,” I say completely alarmed. “You need to give us some time. I thought a great deal about us last week when you left,” I say swallowing; finding it hard to say the words. “We need time. You need to trust me, and I need to trust you. Maybe in time we can indulge, but I like how you are now, how we are together. I like seeing you this happy, and this relaxed and carefree, and the knowledge that I had something to do with it,” I say stopping, remembering that the photographer made her at ease, in those photos. I was jealous then. I wanted to be the one who gave her those smiles, those easy grins, and relaxes, happy, content look on her face.

“I have never...” I say unable to finish the sentence. I can’t explain it to her. Exasperated I run my fingers through my hair. I can’t even think of someone else making her that happy even hypothetically. If she leaves again, leaves me, I have nothing... nothing of value left; the thought is unbearable! (←I Have Nothing by Whitney Houston)  “We have to walk before we can run,” I say grinning remembering Flynn.

“What’s so funny?” she asks puzzled.

“Oh, it’s Flynn. He says this all the time, and I’m surprised that I’m quoting him.”

“A Flynnism,” she says smiling making me laugh. “Yes, exactly,” I reply.

When our food is served, I remember how hungry I am.

“You know where the best Italian food is?”

“In Seattle? I don’t know,” she says.

“No, I mean anywhere in the world. The best Italian food is near Positano, Italy, called Donna Rosa. It’s a small town called Montepertuso.  But the food is refined, and exquisite, and incredibly fresh and completely delicious. Have the best Italian wines, and there are small dining rooms, and a terrace if you wish to eat there, and completely elegant,” I say, and Anastasia looks at me adoringly, completely captivated by what I have to say.

On our drive to Escala, I think back the day we’ve had. It was an incredibly perfect day. I loved every minute of it. Eva Cassidy is singing in the background on the drive back, and I’m lost in thought. (←I Know You by Heart by Eva Cassidy)

It worries me that she thinks what we have may not be enough. What we have is what I need! Does she know that I would do anything to keep her in my life? The greatest punishment anyone could invent for me is to separate her from me. It’d be my torment. It’d be like a half killed mouse by a cat - where there is no saving. A doomed existence... When she wasn’t with me, I was surrounded by her image, everywhere. Everywhere I looked, I’d see her. I thought I’d go out of my mind! And here she sits innocently, the one who holds the power of my personal heaven and hell. She thinks that she’s not enough for me, that she may not be enough someday. No one was enough for me, as if I had a grudge against the universe, nothing was good enough. Nothing was sufficient! I had this urge to always move forward, always progress, always the next thing, always wanting and never being fulfilled! What torture that had been. I kept forging. I never realized that I was seeking my reckoning for...existing!

But when I met Anastasia, everything slowed down, shifted and my eyes focused, on her alone. Does anyone know how torturous it is to seek something and not know what it is? And what a heavenly sight it is to finally find it? The world was not enough for me to fill that gaping hole in me. Nothing was enough. And yet she came into my life, and the gap has been filled, and now I want to give her the world.

As I get closer to Escala tension grips me and radiates through my pores. My eyes dart around to see if Leila is around, somewhere. I’m not nervous for myself. I’m nervous for the danger Leila is creating for Anastasia. I’m worried about my deepest fears coming true. Losing Anastasia in a way I can never recover her. I pull into Escala’s garage as my mouth goes into a grim line. I see Sawyer patrolling, and the violated Audi has already been removed. Sawyer doubles his speed and comes and opens Anastasia’s door soon after I park beside my SUV. (←Highway to the Dangerzone – Top Gun Soundtrack)

Anastasia greets Sawyer.

“Miss Steele,” he says nodding, “Mr. Grey.”

“No sign?” I try to ask discreetly.

“No, sir,” is his reply.

I quickly make it to Anastasia’s side, and grab her hand, and take her to the elevators double time. Knowing that Leila was here, right by the foot of my bed, possibly with a gun in her hand trying to decide whether or not to shoot the only woman I ever loved is killing me inside. As soon as we set foot in the elevator, I turn to Anastasia.

“You are not allowed out of here alone. You understand?” I say snappishly.

“Okay,” she says, and as I expect her to frown or argue, she smiles.

“What’s so funny?” I ask amused.

“You are,” she replies still smiling.

“Me? Miss Steele? Why am I so funny?” I ask pouting.

“Don’t pout,” she chides.

“Why ever not?” I ask questioning even more amused.

“Because,” she says slowly, “your pouting has the same effect on me as I have on you when I do this,” she says, and bites her lip.

“Really?” I ask pouting again. She, not only has the key to my heart, but also to my libido! I can’t help myself but lean down and kiss her chastely. But Anastasia has other ideas. Her fingers curl into my hair, and pull me to her hard! That one contact point is not enough, and I find myself grabbing her and pushing her against the elevator walls while my hands hold and wrap her face, pulling her to me, trying to merge with her. Our tongues thrust against each other violently. Lips molding, sucking, wrapping into each other! Our breaths are mingled, passion is risen, and the anxiety is through the roof! I want to fuck her right here to declare that we are alive and together and that she is mine, and I am hers! (←All About Us by T.a.t.u)

All too fucking soon the elevator door dings open as we reach to my penthouse. My hands are still on her face, and my lips are still on hers, my hips are pinning her to the wall, my erection digging into her, and if I had not known that Taylor is discreetly standing on the other side of the foyer, I’d fuck her right here!

“Whoa!” I murmur panting into her mouth.

“Whoa!” she mirrors my feelings.

My lips are still on hers, I gaze into her. “What you do to me, Ana,” I say, barely being able to pull myself from her as I trace her bottom lip with my thumb. Taylor discreetly moves away from the line of sight.

Anastasia reaches up and kisses the corner of my mouth, and whispers.

“What you do to me, Christian,” she whispers. I’ve got to have her, and have her soon. I hold her hand, barely holding back, “Come,” I order, and desire coursing through my body.

“Good evening, Taylor,” I say finally recognizing him.

“Mr. Grey, Miss Steele,” he says cordially.

“I was Mrs. Taylor yesterday,” Anastasia blurts out grinning, making my main security detail flush all sorts of color I haven’t seen him in.

“That has a nice ring to it, Miss Steele,” he says as if it is just so.

“I thought so, too,” she says back to him, and anger rises up in me. She fucking knows how jealous I get! Why the hell is she doing this? She is my fucking woman! Why is she flirting with my security?

My hands automatically tighten around Anastasia’s and I scowl.

“If you two have quite finished, I’d like to debrief,” I glare at Taylor. I know Anastasia doesn’t have a brain to mouth filter most of the time. But, I expect better from my security. Taylor cringes under my glare.

“I’ll be with you shortly. I just want a word with Miss Steele,” I say, and send Taylor to his office.

I drag Anastasia by the hand to my bedroom, and close the door, sexual tension and jealousy radiating from every single pore and follicle of my body.

“Don’t flirt with the staff, Anastasia!” I scold her. She opens her mouth to say something smart. I look at her daring. She closes her mouth. Then having decided what she’s going to say, “I wasn’t flirting. I was being friendly. There’s a difference,” she says petulantly.

“Don’t be friendly with the staff or flirt with them. I don’t like it!” Her face falls, her carefree features lost. She hangs her head down, and looks at her fingers. She’s killing me!

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. I reach down, and hold her chin up, cupping her face, making her meet my eyes.

“You know how jealous I am,” I whisper. I want her to know. Losing her in any shape or form is my greatest fear. I just can’t take it! (←Set Fire to the Rain by Adele)

“You have no reason to be jealous, Christian. You own me body and soul,” she replies.

I wish I knew that for sure. How could I own her body and soul? How? How could she love me that much? My mind can’t wrap around it. I lean down and kiss her, and still feeling uneasy, still unable to grasp whether she loves me as much as she says she does, and whether she can continue to love me despite of all my fucked-up shit!

“I won’t be long. Make yourself at home,” I say, still sulking, still jealous, still reeling in from the fear of possibility of losing her.

I walk into Taylor’s office or the ‘situation room’ as I dubbed it.

“Taylor, I don’t want you flirting back to Anastasia,” I say without a preamble. He flushes.

“Beg your pardon sir?”

“Anastasia can sometimes be overly friendly. It’s part of her nature. If she does that, nip it in the bud. Courteous professional, is the behavior I’m looking for. Don’t indulge her.”

He flushes some more. I change the topic.

“Now, debrief me of the security measures you and your team have taken,” I say, and that topic receives almost a welcome mat from Taylor who has been uncomfortable with the topic of Anastasia.

Taylor explains the changed locks, how they discovered where Leila hid, and how he disposed of Anastasia’s now defiled Audi.

“Has Anastasia’s belongings been moved to my room?”

“Yes, sir. Her clothes have been relocated to your closet, and her other belongings, her laptop, iPad, and other personal items are now in your bedroom.”

I nod satisfied. “Great!” I say. That’s another step I have taken to make Anastasia my ‘more’. I have to have her day and night. I can’t even bear the thought of her in another room. She gives me peace. She’s my panacea for every problem I have, save the ones she’s creating herself, of course, but even those are welcome distractions for me.

I leave Taylor’s room to go back to Anastasia preoccupied with thoughts that Leila was right here, disturbed enough to harm Anastasia. She could have, and it bothers me. I look for Anastasia. She’s not in the living room. I go to my room, and find her in the walk in closet. She’s dumbstruck, staring at the clothes hanging that are now sharing space with mine.

“I’m glad they’ve managed to move them,” I say to her, still distracted with the thought of Leila.

“What’s wrong?” she asks when she sees my face. 

“Taylor thinks Leila was getting in through the emergency stairwell. She must have had a key. All the locks have been changed. The security team has done a sweep of every single room, and nook and cranny in the entire apartment. Clearly she’s not here.” This anxiety is killing me. That she might find Anastasia and do some harm to her. “I wish I knew where she was. She’s evading all our attempts to find her when we all know that she needs help, desperately.” She comes closer and holds me into her embrace. I can’t help but hold her back and kiss the top of her head.

“What will you do when you do find her?” she probes.

“Dr. Flynn has a place.”

“What about her husband?”

He doesn’t care jack shit about her! “He’s washed his hands of her. Her own family lives in Connecticut. But I think she’s just very much on her own out there, wherever she is now.”

“That’s sad,” Anastasia comments.

“Are you okay with all your belongings being here? I really want you to share my room,” I ask. I not only want it, but I need it. I need her, with me at all times.

“Yes.”

“I want you sleeping with me. I don’t have nightmares when you’re sleeping with me.”

“You have nightmares?” she asks. This is news to her.

“Yes.”

She just squeezes me tighter in her embrace. “I was just getting my clothes ready for work tomorrow,” she states softly. What? She can’t go!

“Work!” I bark.

“Yes, work,” she replies. She can’t go to work. Leila is out there, God knows what she’s planning to do!

“But Leila, she’s out there,” I pause, and don’t want to bring the rest of that thought. “I don’t want you to go to work.” She doesn’t need to. I can take care of her!

“Christian, that’s completely ridiculous. I have to go to work.”

“No, you don’t!” I retort.

“I have a new job which incidentally I enjoy. Of course I have to go to work Christian.”

“No, you don’t!” I repeat enunciating.

“Do you think I’m going to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you Mr. Grey are off being the Master of the Universe?” she asks.

“Well, frankly, yes.” I say.

She sighs. “Christian, I need to go to work.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I. Do,” she says also enunciating slowly.

Does she know all the security risks she’s getting herself involved? “It’s not safe for you out there.”

“Christian, please. I need to work for a living, and I’ll be perfectly fine.”

God, give me strength with this woman! She’s stronger than the devil’s hind legs!

“You don’t need to work for a living, and how do you know you’ll be fine?” I raise my voice. What the hell am I here for? Am I not capable of taking care of my woman? Is it not enough that I work and make money for her? She’ll want for nothing! I’m getting angrier by the minute.

“For God’s sake, Christian! Leila was standing at the end of your bed, right there!”  She says pointing. “But she didn’t harm me. And I do need to work. I don’t want to be beholden to you. I have my student loans to pay,” she explains.

She puts her hands on to her hips, her fighting stance. She will fight tooth and nail with this. My anger is flashing through my eyes, and I am not supposed to spank or punish her! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

“I don’t want you going to work,” I state firmly.

“It’s not up to you, Christian. This isn’t your decision to make.” The hell it isn’t! This is one exasperating, maddening, sexy as hell, and I will take you to hell kind of woman!

We glare at each other, neither backing down. I am exasperated; my hands run through my hair. What’s my next best option? Think Grey, think.

“Sawyer will come with you,” I say. That’s the extent of my compromise.

“What? Christian! That’s not necessary. You’re being irrational,” she says.

Fuck that!

“Irrational?” I practically growl. “Either he comes with you, or I will really be irrational and keep you here,” I say menacingly. And don’t push me Ana, I will fucking do it! You don’t know the extents I will go to protect you! (←Everything I Do by Bryan Adams)

“How, exactly?” she asks.

“Oh, I’d find a way, Anastasia. Don’t you dare to push me.”

“Okay!” she says finally conceding. “Okay,” she says holding both her hands up in a gesture saying ‘you win’. We’re still scowling at each other.

“Fine. Sawyer can come with me if it makes you feel better,” she repeats rolling her eyes. That’s about all I can take without giving her a spanking! I take a step towards her with a menacing expression, and she immediately takes a step back. I close my eyes. Relax! Relax! Breathe in, breathe out! Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...

I run both my hands through my hair. Completely nervous, exasperated, and barely in control. I have to change topics. Breathe Grey! Breathe!

“Shall I give you a tour?” I ask taking her by surprise.

“Okay,” she says her eyes wary. I take her hand, and squeeze it softly.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I say, worried that she might think I’d revert to my old ways.

“You didn’t. I was just getting ready to run,” she says. What?!? No!!!

“Run?” I ask her, scared. When I fear that everyone else will take her away from me, I don’t want to be the one to make her run from me.

“I’m joking!” she says, shaking her head.

I take her around the apartment, showing her all the rooms. There are four bedrooms if you count the playroom, and I show her Taylor and Mrs. Jones’ wing with their own kitchen, living room, and two bedrooms-one for each.

When I show her the TV room, opposite to my office, she smirks.

“Mr. Grey, you do have an Xbox after all?” she says.

“Yes, but I’m crap at it. Elliot beats me all the time. It was funny that you meant this room was my playroom,” I say grinning back at her. Guess, I need distraction too.

“I’m glad you find me amusing Mr. Grey,” she mocks me.

“That you are Miss Steele - that is when you’re not being overly exasperating, of course.”

“Mr. Grey, I’m only exasperating when the aforementioned person is unreasonable.”

“Me? Unreasonable?” I question her.

“Yes, Mr. Grey. Unreasonable could very well be your middle name.”

“I don’t have a middle name,” I say.

“Well then, Unreasonable would suit you.”

“Oh, I think it’s all a matter of opinion, Miss Steele.”

“I would be interested in Dr. Flynn’s professional opinion,” she says making me smirk.

“I thought Trevelyan was your middle name.”

“No. Last name.”

“But why don’t you use it?”

“Because it’s too long. Come,” I order taking her hand, we pass through the utility room, my office, and the wine cellar into Taylor’s large mission center, a.k.a. the ‘situation room’. Taylor is watching the monitors. The balcony, the stairwell, service elevator, and the foyer, are all monitored.

“Hi, Taylor. I’m just giving Anastasia a tour,” I say when we interrupt his work.

He nods without a smile. He’s taken the professional courtesy to a new level. Anastasia smiles at him, and he nods at her politely without a smile. I don’t want Anastasia to dwell too much on the change of his demeanor, so I take her hand and move on to the library.

“And of course, you’ve been in here,” I say as I open the door. Anastasia eyes the billiard table.

“Shall we play?” she asks. I’m surprised at her enthusiasm and smile at her.

“Okay. Have you played before?” I ask.

“A few times,” she says nonchalantly, and I scrutinize her expression. Oh, baby, you’re lying.

“You are a hopeless liar, Anastasia. I believe you’ve either never played before, or....” or she’s mastered it. But she cuts me off.

“Frightened of a little competition?” she taunts me, licking her lips as if her winning is a sure thing.

“Afraid of a little girl like you?” I tease back.

“How about a wager then, Mr. Grey?” she asks. Hmm. Possibilities.

“So, you’re that confident, Miss Steele?” I smirk and shocked of course. “What would you like to water?”

“If I win, you’ll take me back into the playroom,” she says. Why? What? Why?!?

“And if I win?” I ask, still trying to reel in from what she asked for the wager.

“Then it’s your choice,” she says. That has possibilities. Oh, the things I can ask for.... I smirk having decided.

“Okay, deal. Do you want to play pool, English snooker, or carom billiards?”

“Pool, please. I don’t know any other games.”

I take the large leather case under one of the bookshelves housing the pool balls. I rack the balls on the baize, and hand Anastasia a cue and some chalk.

“Would you like to break?” I ask. I can give her a head start. I know I will win. I never lose, not when I want something desperately.

“Okay,” she says, and chalks the end of her cue, blowing the excess. She then stares up at me with that look that says I want you. My eyes darken with desire.

She lines up one of the white balls and with a swift and clean stroke, she hits the center balls, and a striped balls spins and tumbles right into the top right pocket. Good move! I watch her.

“I choose the stripes,” she says, innocently. Oh, my playful baby.

“Be my guest,” I say extending my hand, bowing gallantly.

Anastasia moves, lowers down, her behind sticking out in an inviting manner. She focuses on the ball as she lowers her body onto the pool table. Hmm. A very inviting sight indeed. She moves leisurely around the table, calculating her next shot. She ends up sinking two more balls as I enjoy the scene before me. I squint my eyes, but give nothing away. She has done this before. With whom, I wonder. She finally misses the ball by an infinitesimal small margin. Relief!

“You know Anastasia, I could stand here and watch you leaning across this billiard table all day,” I say enamored. Anastasia flushes as usual, and it makes me desire her more; that innocence of her is completely captivating. I smirk, and I too decide to play my own distraction technique. I pull my sweater off me and sling it over the back of a chair. I give Anastasia an eyeful of what I’m made of bending over the billiard table with my low hanging jeans. Two can play at that game.

Since Anastasia chose the striped balls, I take on the solids. I move about the table and efficiently pocket four balls in quick succession. Of course, having been distracted by the hungry looks my girlfriend is giving me, I end up sinking the white on the fifth shot. Anastasia takes this opportunity to tease me.

“A very elementary mistake Mr. Grey.”

“My dear Miss Steele, I am but a foolish mortal. It’s your turn, I believe,” I say with flourish waving at the table.

“You’re not trying to lose are you?” she asks.

I wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, I would rather always win. Losing is not in my nature in anything.

“Oh no. For what I have in mind as the prize, I want to win, Anastasia,” I say shrugging. “But then, I always want to win in all things.”

Anastasia leisurely walks around the table. Leans down to take a shot, and having decided it’s not where she wants to be, she changes to find a better angle to take her shot. But, I finally notice what she’s trying to do. She’s trying to distract me, by giving a good eyeful of her behind, and her cleavage with her low cut blue shirt. It’s working of course. Damn it!

“I know what you’re doing, Anastasia,” I whisper at her as desire goes up several notches.

She feigns innocence batting her eyelashes at me. She holds her cue, and strategically places her hand on it and runs her hand up and down over it slowly, suggestively. “Oh, Mr. Grey. I’m just trying to decide where to take my next shot,” she murmurs.

Then she walks over to her chosen corner by the table, leans across giving me an eyeful of her now hallway showing bra and cleavage, and she does that directly in front of me. She takes her shot, and lines up her next shot, leaning over the table just a little lower, and I see part of her nipple in the line of my sight which makes me take a sharp intake of breath. And my reaction causes her to miss her shot. Yes!

I walk over to stand behind her as she’s still bent over the table and place my hands on her delectable derriere. As I lean in over her, I whisper, “Are you waving this around to taunt me, Miss Steele?” With that I smack her behind hard, making her gasp. The spanking gives a good ringing to my hand which is a welcome feeling.

“Yes,” she mutters. Toying with me, are you baby? “Be careful what you wish for, baby,” I whisper.

As she rubs her behind, I walk to the other side of the table, lean down, aim well and take my shot. I hit the red ball, and manage to shoot it in to the left side pocket. I am another one, a yellow ball, and aim to shoot it into top right pocket, but I miss it by a hair making Anastasia grin almost victoriously.

“Red Room here we come,” she says trying to taunt me. She knows I hate losing. But, I give nothing away. I only raise an eyebrow and wave her to continue.

She takes her shot and pockets the last orange stripe.

“Name your pocket,” I murmur, as if to say, ‘choose the way you want to be fucked!’

“Top left hand,” she says, and leans over the table, takes her aim, hits it, and damn, she misses it by a wide margin! Yes! My ear splitting grin is ominously showing her that I aim to win this. I lean over the table, and sink in the two remaining solids, and as I stand and chalk my cue leisurely, my gaze is burning into Anastasia.

“If I win...” I say slowly, salaciously, “I’m going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table.”

Her jaw drops open as her eyes go wide. I name my pocket, with eyes on the prize.

“Top right,” I murmur purposefully. I point to the black ball with my cue, bend down giving Anastasia another eyeful, and take my shot, and as the white ball hits the black, it pivots and wobbles over the edge of the pocket, and oh so slowly, taunting falls into the top right pocket.

My eyes gleam darkly, victoriously. I wet my lips and saunter towards my prize like a predator. (←Hurricane by The Scorpions)

I'm posting this early for Rach's 21st birthday. Happy birthday Rach! Hope you had a great one! Next posting will be next Thursday (I'll try to post earlier of course, but presently I'm a bit overwhelmed with work). Thank you for all your patience!