BOOK III - Chapter X - Christian and Anastasia Fanfiction

LOST IN AUSTEN

CHAPTER X

“I can see why you chose Covent Garden instead of Hamlyn Hall,” Anastasia remarks.

“Really Mrs. Grey? And why would that be?”

“I think the sensual red color would be the primary reason,” she replies without breaking her gaze from mine.

“How well you know me Mrs. Grey. That’s one of the reasons. The other rooms weren't cozy enough to my standards. I like the sensual, warm colors as well as the paintings in this room,” I say pointing around the room Taylor managed to reserve at the Covent Garden.

“Why Mr. Grey, would the particular reason for your choice of this color be that it reminds you of a particularly favorite room of yours?” she says as her gaze travels on the sensual red and gold walls and décor dominating the room.

I give her a dark lascivious smile. “Any room I have you in with me is a favorite of mine, Mrs. Grey,” I reply darkly.

“Mr. Grey, aren't you the ultimate romantic?” she whispers.

“We aim to please, Mrs. Grey. Now, I’ve been dying to blindfold and feed my wife...” I whisper in a husky voice.

She bites her lip and looks up at me from under her long lashes. I reach out and release that lip.

“Don’t,” I whisper in her ear and kiss the corner of her mouth, leaving her wanting more. “I already ordered for us, since we have to get to the opera.”

“Ever and always in control Mr. Grey,” she smirks.

“The chef who owns this place is French. He’s skills in the kitchen is quite famous. I have the six course dinner ordered. Would you like to take a look at the menu?”

“Yes,” she replies and looks at the menu.

Saumon fumé mi-cuit, raifort et concombre

Warm-oak smoked salmon, horseradish and cucumber

~

Risotto de champignons sauvages, truffes d'Alba

Risotto of wild mushrooms, Alba truffles

~

Solette poêiée, purée de chou-fleur, amandes grillées

Pan-fried Cornish Dover sole fillet, cauliflower purée, almonds

~

Noisette de chevreuil rôtie, endive, céleri braisé, sauce Grand Veneur

Roasted loin of Shropshire venison, vhicory, braised celery, Grand Veneur sauce

~

Cœur de Franche-Comté : le Comté

A selection of three Comté cheeses from Raymond Blanc’s native region

~

Poire pochée au caramel,

crème chiboust à la vanille de Tahiti et règlisse

Poached pear in caramel, Tahiti vanilla créme chiboust and liquorice

Le Manoir garden leaf salad, fresh herbs, truffle dressing

“Christian, that’s a lot of food. I don’t know if I can eat that much. I was hoping to save some room for a different kind of dessert,” she says as look at me flirtatiously.

“They’re not large portions baby, enough to get a good taste,” I say and she smirks at me.

“Are you smirking at me Mrs. Grey?” I ask darkly.

“Yes,” she answers in a husky voice.

“Oh, that would never do, Mrs. Grey. I might just have to punish you for it.”

“Yes, please,” she replies hitching my breath.

“Eager as ever, Anastasia... I’ll see what I can do,” I reply wanton.

The dinner is wheeled in and she’s amazed with the presentation.  Once the waiters leave, I go to the door, and eye Taylor; he nods in response. No one comes in, until we come out.

I take out a silver silk scarf from my pocket and show it to her as I saunter towards my wife. “Time to close your eyes, baby,” I say leaning in as close to her body as possible without touching, and cover her eyes, and tie a knot behind her head without disturbing her gorgeous chignon. She inhales my scent, and exhales a sensual breath slowly finally biting the edge of her lip. I lean down, and extract the lip from the captivity of her teeth with my own lips.

“That’s better,” I say landing a small and a chaste kiss on her lips. She pouts wanting more, crossing her arms.

“Don’t cross your arms, baby. I will tie them if you do,” I murmur softly. The effect of my warning is immediate. Her hands fall onto her lap. The dinner I have ordered for us is not from the set menu. It is specially prepared just for tonight by the chef himself.

“Thirsty?” I ask, and she shakes her head as a response. I pour white wine into the goblet. Looks like we have to share. I take a sip of the wine. It’s crisp and cool. Goes down smoothly and the taste is exquisite. I take another sip tilting Anastasia’s head back up, I share the wine with her. She swallows gratefully.

“More please,” she says.

“You have to have something to eat first, baby,” I say and get a forkful of fish for her and guide it into her mouth. She makes a small moaning noise with the food in her mouth.

“Good?” I ask.

“Yes. It just melts in your mouth. Hmm... I love it,” she says, and I think she’s doing that deliberately to get a rise out of me. Mrs. Grey has acquired some mean skills in the seduction department. I take a bite of the fish, and she is indeed right. It tastes wonderful. Then I feed her a forkful of risotto with wild mushrooms and she chews slowly, making little appreciative noises.

“How about a taste of venison?”

“Bring it on Mr. Grey,” she says with double meaning. I grin. I love it when she eats. It’s a turn on for me.

“Wine?”

“Yesss,” she says emphasizing the letter‘s’ in her speech making me smile. I take a sip of wine, savor and swallow it slowly. Then I take another sip, and share it with Anastasia. As she swallows the wine, she captures my lower lip between her teeth. Pulling me in.

“No, baby...”

“Please,” she begs. “Christian! This is not fair! You get me hot and bothered, and leave me hanging... I will explode with desire!” she complains.

“Baby, I know, exactly how to put out your fire... Never fear,” I say and retract my lip from the captivity of her teeth.

When the dinner is over, I untie her blindfold.

“Time for the opera?”

“You aren't going to fuck me?” she scolds.

“Mrs. Grey! I’m appalled in the crude language you are using,” I say unable to hide the smile from my lips.

“I couldn't help it Mr. Grey. I’m overcome with desire for my husband, but he seems not to want to have me,” she bats her lashes, unleashing her charm. I have to bite inside my cheek to stop myself from grinning at her.

“Uneasy? Bothered? Desiring me baby?” I ask salaciously.

“Yes and you know it!” she snaps at me.

“Mrs. Grey, you are feisty... We have an opera to watch,” I say and take her hand. “Come.”

“I’d like to, but you won’t let me!” she responds.

I pull her into my arms so fast; she is flush with my body. “Baby...don’t. Believe me, I want to fuck you into next week, especially when you are desiring me like this, but, patience...now... patience is a virtue.”

“I thought you were in the moment kind of guy,” she says breathy.

“Wait...” I remind her planting a chaste kiss on her lips. “Wait, baby... your husband will take care of you,” I say kissing her again. But her hands pull my hair and our kiss turns into a passionate one. Tongues tangled, she moans into my mouth, and feeling my erection, she pushes her hips in desperately for some friction making me grin.

“Not here. Let’s go,” I say pulling her hand.

“Why not here?”

“I have plans. And you’re trying to derail them baby,” I say raising my eyebrows. She pouts, sighs, and follows me out holding my hand.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

I have the Royal Secret reserved. It’s also called the Royal Box. It has a private dining room behind the box, but also a Victorian bathroom dating back to 1858 which I intend to utilize tonight with my wife.

Le nozze di Figaro, or “The Marriage of Figaro” is a comic opera and one of Mozart’s masterpieces. It’s a four act play during which I can enjoy both the play and my wife. The play focuses on a single “day of madness” in the palace of the Count Almaviva near Seville, Spain. The evening’s conductor makes his way and acknowledges both the orchestra and the standing applause of the audience. Fixes his eye glasses, tosses his shoulder length graying hair with one flick of his hand then lifts his baton. With one wave of his hand, the overture begins; we’re already seated in our box. Although the Royal Box can accommodate several viewers, I’m seated with Anastasia alone. When the overture begins, the musicians are nearly invisible to the viewers. It’s one of the most famous overtures in the world.

Le Nozze di Figaro Overture 

I intentionally sit on Anastasia’s right side. I take her wrap off and place it on the chair next to me. As the lights dim in the Royal Opera House, the unseen strings start playing. The attention of all the audience is directed on the stage which will not lift the curtain up until the end of the overture. With the start of the first high note I place my hand on Anastasia’s left leg right above her knee which is delightfully displayed all the way up to her hip thanks to the slit in the dress I carefully chose for this occasion. I feel her breath catch and she squirms in her seat. As the notes in the music get higher so does my hand.  When the overture reach to a particularly high note, my fingers reach her apex and she looks up at me and looks around anxious, her eyes are wide. Lights are dim and nobody can see us. My hand cups her sex, and I slowly, sensually start stimulating her sex. With the balls moving inside her, she stifles a moan. My eyes are directed to the stage while Anastasia is unable to break hers from my profile.

She squeezes her knees together while my hand is pleasuring her clitoris.

“Christian!” she whispers my name in a moan.

I turn my head to her and cock my eyebrows, “Are you denying me baby?” I ask as her legs constrict my access.

“No, I want you! Now!” her voice is low, but urgent. Her hand reaches up to my bulge, and she begins stroking my rigid cock with her fingers. Her fingers are slow, careful, and I cover her hand with my other to avoid any detection. How I want to lift her and kiss her every way possible and fuck her right here. But I show restraint. I’m starving for a taste of my wife.

Overture is over and the lights are dimmed further so it can solely focus on the stage as its curtain lifts up. In a rapid decision, I pull my wife to my lap slowly move us to the last row in the relative darkness of the box. Anastasia is straddling over me as I sit on the chair and her hands snake around my neck tangling in my hair. She opens her mouth and my tongue desperately enters into it deep and hard, in an effort to fuck her mouth, and she reciprocated with her tongue, sucking, her tongue licking, yielding, submitting, pushing, and her moans are skyrocketing my desire for her. Her tongue finally pushes her way into my mouth and I suck it hard, caressing it with my tongue. My hand dips down to her sex again, and I rub, and she pushes her sex into my waiting hand. The balls moving inside her, stimulating her sex and driving her wilder.

“Please,” she whispers into my mouth. “I can’t take it, fuck me!”

I look up and all is dark, and we’re in the darkest corner of the box, behind us is the private dining, and Taylor is manning the entry, so no one will enter.

“It’s going to be hard and fast!”

“Yes!” she moans.

With one hard flick of my finger, I rip her panties, and unzip my tuxedo pants. “As soon as I pull the balls out, I want to bury my cock inside you baby,” I whisper and she nearly convulses nodding frantically.

“Lift your glorious ass up,” I say and she lifts her bottom off my lap. I pull the string pulling the silver balls out and she’s near orgasm, her head tilts back, her breasts pushed forward. I lower her on to my awaiting length and she takes all of me in. I finally start moving her guiding her hips. Desire is pounding through both of us, palpable, hot, and tangible. Sinking into her blooming sex, my most favorite place in the world makes me realize how much I’ve been craving her. I push my cock upward and she’s descending on me hard, pushing and shoving, meeting, fucking, making love; this carnal desire for my wife is all consuming, and scorching fire rapidly spreading between us. There’s nothing that can put the fire out but losing ourselves in each other, uniting, making love, holding, kissing, caressing, and I’m lost with her desire for me, lost in her kisses asking, demanding for more.

Her sex starts contracting around my cock deliciously milking me, and desiring me, stroking me inside out. I’m lost to her, lost to us, and I come shuddering along with my wife, thrusting and burying in one another.

“What you do to me, Mrs. Grey,” I murmur into her ear still buried inside her. “Baby, I’m going to fuck you in the dining room in there during the second act,” I say indicating with a small nod of my head, “and then in that Victorian bathroom on the third act, and if we make through the fourth act without devouring each other, I’m going to make love to you all night in our hotel room,” I say darkly.

“Yes, please!” she whispers and merges her lips with mine again without breaking our connection. My cock twitches once more into attention.

“Oh fuck! We’ll skip the second act...” I say and start moving inside her again as my tongue caresses hers and my right hand starts teasing her breasts.

When the song “Voi Che Sapete” is over, I’m ready to take my wife once again, and she is most accommodating as we christen the Victorian bathroom standing up.

Voi Che Sapete 

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

On the way back to the hotel I hold Anastasia’s hand and start making circles on her knuckles and her run my fingernail over it making her shiver.

“How was your first opera experience?” I ask licentiously.

She bites her lip and answers in a low voice, “I never knew opera could be so stimulating, Mr. Grey,” she answer batting her eyelashes at me. My hand goes up to her chin, releasing her lip.

“Don’t! You know what it does to me, baby,” I whisper in her ear. “Especially when I know that you have no panties. Behave,” I whisper into her ear, my eyes darkening.

When we arrive in our suite, Geoffrey is waiting for us ready to take our orders and serve. Getting a glimpse of the carnal appreciation I have written all over my face for Anastasia, Taylor sighs imperceptibility and turns to the butler and says, “Geoffrey, it’s you and me tonight, my man!”

“I beg your pardon sir?” Jeffrey turns to him slightly confused.

“Mr. and Mrs. Grey are relinquishing your services to me for the night,” Taylor replies in a taciturn face.

“Oh, sir, I was not made aware of this fact,” replies Geoffrey.

“Yes, you may resume your duties tomorrow morning back here again,” I say raising my eyebrows. “Thank you Geoffrey,” I say with my usual impassive gaze.

“Good night sir, ma’am,” he says bowing, and follows Taylor out.

I lock the door behind and saunter darkly towards my wife. “Mrs. Grey, the first surface I’m going to claim you is on this table, then that wall by that glorious view of the city, and finally in the bedroom. What say you to that?”

“Yes!” she replies in a breathy voice.

“Mrs. Grey, do you know how irresistible you are when you want me like this?” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you do! You know you drive me crazy!”  I murmur, my arms snake around her waist and my lips claims hers.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

 When I wake up the next morning, I find my legs wrapped around Anastasia’s legs, and my arms draped over her breasts possessively. Her hand is instinctively on my chest, and somehow it’s comforting and not fear inducing.  We've had a long and a passionate night. I watch her in her slumber; she’s breathtaking. I can watch her for hours. She’s the pinnacle of innocence, and all mine. My girl, my wife, my beloved. I don’t want to leave her by herself, but she’ll be out for the count for a while. I can go and work out while she’s sleeping. I have been neglecting working out in the gym; I should take advantage of her sleeping and exercise this morning.

I take Taylor with me leaving Nichols and Collins waiting outside our suite in my absence should Anastasia need their assistance in the slim chance she wakes up before I get back. I run, lift weights, do cardio, and Taylor and I practiced mixed martial arts for a little over thirty minutes.

When I get back to our suite, Geoffrey is waiting for me.

“Good morning Mr. Grey. Would you like to have your breakfast now, or would you prefer to wait for Mrs. Grey’s return?”

“Return?” I ask, and rush to the bedroom. The bed is empty, and Anastasia isn't there. I just realized that Nichols and Collins weren't at the door, either. I quickly make my way back out to the living room.

“Where is Mrs. Grey?” I ask almost harshly to Geoffrey.

“She conveyed her desire to take a stroll at the Hyde Park sir.”

“What? By herself?”

“Not by herself sir, but, I assure you, it’s quite safe at the park.”

“When did she leave?”

“She left about thirty minutes after you did this morning, sir.” 

“And she isn't back yet?” I seethe with anger. “What did she exactly tell you?”

Geoffrey clears his throat, looks straight ahead, and lowers the pitch of his voice to match Anastasia’s and animatedly tries to change his British accent into American. “She said, ‘Geoffrey, I’m gonna go to the Hyde Park’,” he says in a perky voice. “Tell my husband that I’ll be taking a stroll, soaking in some local color, and,” he adds rolling his eyes which must be what Anastasia had done, “I’ll be taking the Royal Guards with me,” he quotes Anastasia then adds, “technically sir, they’re not the Royal Guards. They have not been in her Majesty’s service.”

“Thank you, Geoffrey,” I say dismissing him, and take the speediest shower I can, and put my clothes on and rush outside with Taylor in tow who is asking if something is wrong.

“I don’t know yet. Mrs. Grey has taken a stroll to the Hyde Park. Did either of the security call you?”

“No sir. They have specific orders to call me for anything out of the ordinary, unsafe, or unscheduled,” he says, his face taut.

We make our way to the park, both of us scanning the park, and we locate Anastasia easily. She’s sitting on a bench with a couple of local girls and giggling and feeding squirrels! Both Nichols and Collins are scanning the vicinity, and watching her like a hawk. Good! I’m still debating whether they should be fired for not informing me. Nichols spots us first, and he goes red. He starts making his way towards us, but I hold my hand up. I don’t want to alert Anastasia of our presence.  

There are two college age girls who are sharing their lunches with birds and squirrels. Anastasia takes a piece of chip and offers it to a shy squirrel who stops at several feet distance trying to assess whether it could trust her. Deciding that she’s harmless, he approaches Anastasia wearily, retrieves the chip from her fingers, and retreats back a few feet and eats his reward greedily. 

Another friend of his approaches to the girl with the curly hair, and takes the food offered from her hand. Anastasia and the other two girls giggle at the animals’ response. They break a piece of a sandwich and place it in the middle of their hands, and birds land on it taking the food hungrily. I watch my wife mesmerized. Even the Brit security details are watching her reverentially. Creatures shy of humans are eating out of their hands. Anastasia puts a few small pieces of sandwich in the middle of her palm and extend it. This time two squirrels come closer, and take the pieces and retreat a few feet then sitting on their rear end eat their prizes. I can’t help but smile.

Anastasia, feeling my gaze on her looks in my direction and smiles. She starts walking in my direction. “Hi Christian!” she greets me.

“Hi,” I respond. “I couldn't find you in the suite,” I say in my usual impassive gaze.

“Don’t be mad. I wanted to take a walk at the park. I took the security, but told them not to bother you while you’re working out since I was only a walking distance from the hotel. Oh, and I made some new friends! Come and meet them!” she says tugging me behind her. I can’t help but follow my wife.

“Catarina, Leonor! I’d like you to meet my husband!” she says with pride in her voice, and that act alone melts my cold heart, and I decide not to fire the MI6 agents.

Two very shy girls look up and murmur hellos to me.

“Hello,” I say and extend my hand to greet my wife’s new friends. “Are you local to this area?” I ask nonchalantly trying to find out, if their meeting with my wife just a coincidence or something else.

“Oh, no, we are from Portugal. We’re just visiting London on our summer break. It’s a beautiful city!” says Catarina. She’s got curly hair, dimples on her face, and very friendly in a sweet way. I nod.

“Nice meeting you Mr. Grey, Ana. We try to come here once a day. But sometimes we don’t have time. There’s so much to see in London, you know,” she says in a sweet Portuguese accent.

“So nice to meet you Ana,” says Leonor. “Mr. Grey,” she nods shyly. “We’ll leave you two alone since you’re on your honeymoon,” she says smiling and they wave at us moving to the lakeside to feed the ducks and the swans, arguing whether it’s the sandwich pieces or the chips better lure to for the critters while giggling.

My gaze is full on Anastasia now with intensity.

“I was worried about you,” I say, my smile gone.

“Oh, Christian! You went for a workout, and I couldn't find you when I woke up. Geoffrey said you went to the gym. And since you were working out, I thought I could take a walk and get a little bit of exercise, look at the park, and come back about the same time as you did.”

“But you didn't!” I accuse.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was completely taken by the girls feeding some elusive critters in their hands, and I wanted to try the same. They showed me how they did it, and I was just having too much fun, I have forgotten about the time. And you came and found me,” she says pleased.

“And don’t be mad at the Royal Guard One and Two please. I told them not to disturb you while you’re working out. I was right outside the hotel, and in broad daylight, sitting at this quiet park. Just enjoying the weather and the creatures living in the park with 007 and 8 in tow.”

“Okay,” I reply with an impassive gaze.

“Will you punish me for going to the park?”

“Baby, we’re lovers; you are my wife for God’s sake! You’re not my sub. I was just worried about you, worried that you might get hurt somehow,” I say wounded with her remark. She rolls her eyes.

“I’m okay Christian,” she replies, but her face falls.

“Did you want me to punish you?” I ask tentatively.

“I don’t want you to hurt me, but...” her voice trails off.

“But?” I ask probing. But what?

“I like to play. I like the punishment that is not intend to hurt me,” she replies, making my face fall again.

“Anastasia, I don’t ever want to hurt you. But, I was scared when you weren't in our hotel room and nearly gave me a coronary! The MI6 here didn't call Taylor!”

“That’s my fault. I thought you’d be worried, so, I told them not to call since we were just taking a stroll at the park, and no one knows me here in London. And when I saw Catarina and Leonor, I felt like I’m on a college campus, and for a couple hours I was just an ordinary girl forgetting the security tagging me along. I really enjoyed myself doing something simple, but extraordinary, having birds and squirrels eat out of my hand!” she squeals in delight.  

“Let’s go,” I say pulling her hand. “I think it’s time to feed you. Would you like to go out for a brunch?” she smiles, and nods in answer.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

“What? Oh my God!” Anastasia says, and hugs me in full view of all the security and leans back to look and me and then hugs me again once again forcefully, and kisses me shamelessly this time and I have to restrain her passion. For one thing, I don’t want anyone to see what gets her all excited, and how she is when she is excited, and two, I don’t have time to fuck her on the way.

“You are taking me to Jane Austen’s house!” she squeals in delight, and holds me again.

“If I knew I’d get this reaction out of you, I’d make sure it’d be our first stop, and not nearly two weeks into our honeymoon,” I say grinning.

“But London is a great city and there’s so much to see. I’m so incredibly grateful that you've arranged all this! All this for me! I love every minute of this honeymoon!” she gushes.

“We could have flown but, I thought you’d want to see some countryside, and I’d have you to myself on a country side drive.” She grins as wide as possible in response.

As we leave the city of London behind us and get on A331, the houses get scarce and the area is more of the open farmlands and lush greenery greet us.

“It’s quite green...” Anastasia observes, “but I was expecting more trees than there is outside,” she remarks.

Collins responds to Anastasia’s observation.

“No, ma’am. The area has been developed, mostly villages and farmlands which is why you don’t see as many trees.”

We arrive at Jane Austen’s house a little over one hour drive from the hotel. It’s a simple two story 17^th century brick house. But she didn't live in that house all her life; only the last eight years of it. A University of Oxford Professor agreed to give us a tour.

She’s very knowledgeable and a Professor of English. She greets us in a no nonsense tone expected of a college Professor, but she’s still pleasant.

“Mr. and Mrs. Grey!” she greets us. “How nice to meet you! Welcome to Jane Austen’s House Museum.” We shake her proffered hand, and she starts the tour.

“Jane Austen did most of her mature writing in this charming village home. She revised Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Northanger Abbey in this house, and she wrote Mansfield Park, Emma and Persuasion entirely in this home, in fact on this little tea table,” she says indicating a simple small tea table, paint washed away, worn out and only occupied by a lone ink bottle and quill on it and accompanied by a simple wood dining chair with mesh seat.

Anastasia looks at the table admiringly, then turns to me and says, “Christian, Jane Austen wrote six of the world greatest novels on this little tea table. If she can do that with what little the 19^th century she lived in offered for women, anything should be possible for a woman of our time only if we knew!” she says fervently.

At this moment something becomes clear to me. I want to do something for Anastasia. I know she wants to be in publishing. She admires Miss Austen; a woman who managed to do something most men in their prime couldn't do. Become a success in an endeavor she loves. Hers happened to be in writing. Anastasia wants to be in publishing. Publishing... Hmm...  Yes, it’s clear to me now. I want to gift Anastasia SIP Publishing as a wedding present, support my wife in her endeavor in publishing, make it possible for her to create successful writers like Miss Austen.

Anastasia practically eats up everything the Professor is telling us... and me not so much. Because I’m busy watching the intense desire of my wife to learn more about one of her idols.

“So, you say that the house didn't have a toilet?” Anastasia asks.

“No, Ana, it didn't. In those days people used outhouses, and chamber pots.”

“Okay... Moving on...” says Ana making everyone smile.

“This is the spot where Jane Austen liked to write," says the professor pointing a table by a large window overlooking the lush, well groomed backyard.

“It’s a very inspirational spot,” Anastasia remarks.

“Well, the life of a novelist whets our curiosity of course. The literature lovers want to know how she wrote, where her amazing ideas may have come from, what her writing techniques may have been, or how she prepared her manuscript for the press.”

“How did she do it?” ask my girl.

“That is the frustrating part which anything anyone says would of course be pure conjecture. I can speculate having learned the circumstances she arrived in Chawton which of course is her final home. Miss Austen was thirty-three years old when she got here.  This was a gift from her brother Edward, and she lived here with her sister Cassandra, and a family friend. Jane had a lively mind. What she had in her mind was in fact livelier than anything she had around at the time. She would make up stories about fairyland and play the piano to entertain her little nieces while she fixed breakfast. She was very fun to be around.”

“Did she write in this spot at all times?” asks Anastasia. The professor smiles.

“Jane would write on small pieces of paper which could be easily hidden away from prying eyes, but she worked in the general space of the family sitting room.”

“No privacy?”

“Not in the sense we would think of today. It’s a family home. It wasn’t easy for a woman, or anyone for that matter I suppose to become published. You see Mrs. Grey,” says the professor gesturing with her hand around, “Jane Austen was really a very tenacious woman. A lesser or less willing woman wouldn't be able to accomplish what she did. She wrote her major novels, and rewrote some of them, right here in this house. Then she would prepare the manuscripts for publication and travel fifty miles to London for an extended stay with her brother Henry and she would see them through press. And of course the village life in Chawton provided her with a great laboratory with its community.”

“I agree with you in all of that. But, getting published is only half the battle. People in general assume that you write and publish and sell thousands of books. That’s not the case. What Jane Austen managed to do is nothing short of an amazing accomplishment. She wrote at a time where women writers were few and far in between. She became famous in her lifetime, and her writing and characters have been loved for over 200 years. That’s not only prodigious, but also beyond admirable!”

I have the best wife in the world! She never stops amazing me. My wife is not only beautiful, but incredibly smart, passionate, and her love for what she does amazes me. I somehow understand my wife better today. I was superficial enough to assume that her like of the British classics was only because of hearts and flowers. I never thought of it in the way she explained her perception of these writers to this stranger...this professor. I feel envious of this complete stranger for opening a side of my wife I never knew existed. At this moment, I yearn to know my amazing wife better.

Anastasia looks into everything in the house as if she wants to memorize the place, and ingrain in her entire being. She sits in the backyard, in the luscious green, and admires the flowers, and absorbs every image, every tree, every bird, and every plant.

Before our tour is over, the professor takes Anastasia’s right hand into both of hers.

“Ana, I am so pleased to meet one of the biggest Jane Austen fans besides myself. Remember that Jane’s daily routine included long walks in the streets of Chawton, like the Bennett girls would take in Meryton in Hertfordshire. She would chat with her neighbors, or sew in the evening, and have family meals with her sister, mother, and their family friend, but sometimes that would include social gatherings, or friends. So, if you would like a tangible connection to the environment Jane lived, I would very much recommend you to walk about the Chawton Village, see around, say hello to people, dear,” she says warmly.

Anastasia gives her bright smile, and nods, and thanks the professor. We spend rest of the day soaking up the local color, and I’m just happy to be spending the day with my wife in one of her favorite author’s town. My life’s mission after all is to make her happy.

*****❦ ♡❧*****

“Anastasia, baby can you manage to be alone for a few hours today? I have to have a business meeting when I’m already here. It shouldn't take me too long. The security can take you to shopping, sightseeing, or is there a particular thing you want to do today?” I ask, already upset that I have to leave my wife on our honeymoon.

“Oh...” she says her face falling, but quickly recovers and smiles for my benefit. “I’ll be fine Christian. Get your meeting done. But, I think I’ll just stay in, read one of the manuscripts while you’re having your meeting,” she replies.

“But if you decide to go out, call me. Otherwise I worry. I’ll be just downstairs in one of the conference rooms,” I say with a warning in my voice.

“Call me if you are going out even for five minutes,” I remind her again.

“Yes, Christian,” she says rolling her eyes.

“Are you rolling your eyes at me?” I tease.

“Yes, Mr. Grey, but I think you don’t have time to do anything about it,” she teases me back.

“Oh, Mrs. Grey. You’re only to ask. I can always make an exception for you,” I reply pulling her to my body flush, and smack her bottom, pushing her into my already growing erection.

“This is what you do to me. I’m always a half-cocked gun around you, baby,” I say looking at her darkly.

She’s speechless, but her hands tangle into my hair, pulling me in for a kiss. Soon our kiss becomes deeper, carnal, and wanton.

“What are you doing to me baby? I’m always losing control around you,” I whisper into her mouth.

“Are you complaining Mr. Grey?” she asks.

“Baby, how could I complain when I lust after my own wife? But the sooner I finish with the meeting, the sooner I come back, and make love to you.”

“Is this a promise?”

I grasp her ass and lift her off the floor and wrap her legs around me while my erection is digging into her soft sex. My lips claim hers and my tongue assaults her mouth with carnal desire and want, asking, taking and demanding.

“What do you think Mrs. Grey?” I breathe into her mouth.

“Y-yes!” she whimpers.

She sees me off and I make my way downstairs with Taylor.

“Is the meeting room ready?” I ask.

“Yes, sir. The clients should be here already. I have your laptop here, and Roz should be online already.”

“You can borrow Geoffrey tonight. I won’t be needing his services,” I say impassively, and Taylor nods.

“How are you two getting along?” I ask completely nonchalantly. Taylor blinks.

“Fine servant, I suppose. I’m not used to being waited on hand and foot. Thank you for allocating his services to me when you don’t need it,” he says and seeing a double meaning in what he said, he amends, “I mean lending him to me...” he adds, then wipes the sweat from his brows, and finally says, “I like Geoffrey’s butlery skills, but I love Gail,” he says finally clearing his throat, flushes to the hairline and when elevator dings open, he’s saved by the bell. I try to hide my smirk.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

All through the meeting I can barely keep my focus on the topic. My mind wanders off to my wife upstairs. What I want to do with her, do to her on the wall, in the bath, on the piano, balcony... Especially when my Blackberry buzzes, and there’s a text message from her:

*I’m thinking of ways you can fulfill your promise to me. Maybe I should do something naughty that should require a small punishment*

I reply back immediately.

*N.O.!*

 I want to do a lot in bed, but then I've arranged a lot of sightseeing in the beautiful city of London, so those plans will have to wait till tonight. The meeting runs overtime, and I have plans. I tell them as much and tell them we continue in the evening to include two other locations, one in Taiwan, and one in the U.S. to conclude the meeting. This will give me time to spend the day with my wife, and and she's resting, I can finish the meeting later in the evening.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

When I come back to our the suite at the conclusion of my meeting it’s passed 11 p.m. and I want to fulfill everything I've been daydreaming about. Anastasia is by the window curled up in her satin nightgown reading a manuscript. Her gaze lifts up when she sees me, my heart swells.

“Hi baby!” I say as I saunter towards her.

“Hi,” she replies getting off the chair.

I hold her in my arms, lifting her up, kiss her deeply and passionately.

“I’ve been thinking about you all evening. And right now, I want to take you to our bed, and have my way with you,” I say and she blushes, saying “Yes,” as she swallows.

I deposit my wife on the bed, shed my clothes off, and lay on the bed positioned between my wife's legs as my hand crawls up her legs hitching her satin nightgown up the trail. She doesn’t have any underwear on, but what takes me by surprise is not the lack of underwear, but her deforested sex.

“What the hell have you done?” I exclaim. I feel a horrified amusement feeling her shaved sex. I sit up on the bed, and turn the side table light on and carefully gaze down on my wife’s poorly cropped pubic hair as if someone with no experience tried to cut someone’s hair, and created train tracks. My mouth falls open with a startled O shape. Anastasia flushes tomato red and tries to pull her nightgown down to hide her sex chagrined.

“Ana!” I exclaim.

“I...uhm. I ... shaved,” she manages to reply.

“I can see that, baby. But, why?” I ask unable to stop grinning from ear to ear.

She completely goes shy on me and covers her face with her hands, embarrassed.

“Hey, baby don’t hide. Not from me,” I say softly, but I’m trying hard not to laugh at the effort which is admirable but the poor outcome might require some assistance. I have to bite my lip to stop myself. “Tell me. Why?” I ask with a glint in my eyes.

“Stop laughing at me,” she scolds me.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m sorry. I’m just... delighted,” I say. I really would love to have sex with her deforested sex. The feeling so much better, skin on skin...

“Oh...” she responds.

“Tell me. Why?” I probe.

She finally takes a deep breath. “This morning, after you left for your meeting, I took a shower and I was remembering all your rules,” she starts.

This wasn’t what I was expecting. I don’t want my wife to think of herself in terms of subs I’ve had. She’s my wife, not my sub. All humor vanishes from me, and I regard her cautiously.

“And I was ticking them of one by one and how I felt about them, and I remembered the beauty salon and I thought... this is what you’d like. I wasn’t brave enough to get a wax,” she says finally in a whisper.

She just wanted to please me. It means so much to me now that she’s had me in mind, thinking of what I like, and I feel nothing but immense love for this creature before me.

“Oh, Ana,” I breathe. I lean down and kiss my wife slowly and tenderly. “You beguile me,” I whisper against her lips and kiss her once again, this time holding her face between my hands. My kiss deepens and I kiss and hold her until we’re both breathless. I finally manage to pull back, leaning up on one elbow. But this time there is a wicked gleam in my eyes.

“I think I should do a thorough inspection of your handiwork, Mrs. Grey.”

“What? No!” she responds immediately covering herself, and her sex from my view.

“Oh, no you don’t, Anastasia,” I say as I grasp her hands and pry them away from her sex. I move quickly and position myself between her legs, and pin her hands to her sides. I gaze down at my beautiful wife, hot, lustful, scorching and lean my head down as she’s gazing at me. My lips slowly descend upon her naked belly and slowly make my way to her sex. She squirms beneath me, turning me on hotter than ever, and finally stops squirming unable to get me off. The fact is, I like her resisting. It’s a turn on. Anastasia resisting me, putting up a fight in bed is one of my fantasies.

“What have we here?” I say planting a kiss on her sex and scrape the two days old bristle on my chin over her bare sex across.

“Ah!” she exclaims, feeling everything. Yes! Fuck! I have a dozen ideas of what I want to do to it. But first things first.

I look up and my gaze darts to hers, and I have nothing but desirous, lustful longing in my eyes. “I think you've missed a little,” I mutter, tugging a few strands of hair gently right underneath her.

“Oh... Damn,” she mutters mortified.

“I have an idea,” I say leaping out of the bed naked, and head to the bathroom.

I am going to shave my wife’s sex. I fill a glass with hot water, grab a mug, my old fashioned shaving brush, soap, her razor and a towel. I come back to the bedroom and set the water, brush, mug and razor on the bedside table and gaze down at my wife salaciously while I’m holding the towel.

Seeing my intent, her eyes go wide, and she protests, “No. No. No.”

“Mrs. Grey, if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. Lift up your hips,” I command as my eyes glow with a mixture of desire and longing for intimacy.

“Christian! You are not shaving me!” she squeaks.

I tilt my head to the side and question her, “Why ever not baby?”

She flushes. Is it private, intimate, close? “Because... It’s just too...” she stops.

“Intimate?” I complete her sentence in a whisper. I can see that this is the reason. “Ana, I crave intimacy with you – you know that. Besides, after some of the things we've done, don’t get all squeamish on me now. And, I know this part of your body better than you do.”

She gapes at my arrogance. I can see that in her eyes. “It’s just wrong!” she whines.

“This isn't wrong – this is hot,” I say gazing at her sex, wanting to do this.

“This turns you on?” she asks astonished.

I snort in response. “Can’t you tell?” I ask glancing down at my full salute gun. “I want to shave you,” I whisper. She lies back in surrender and throws her arms over her face.

“If it makes you happy Christian, go ahead. You are so kinky,” she mutters and lifts her hips up so I can slip the towel beneath her. I grin at her acquiescence. I lean down and kiss her inner thigh.

“Oh, baby, how right you are,” I respond.

I put the soap in the mug, and slush the brush in the hot water and swirl it about the soap. When it lathers up, I grasp her left ankle and part her legs. As I sit between her legs, the bed dips with my weight. “I’d really like to tie you up right now,” I murmur my desire. I don’t want give her a nick as she squirms and moves about.

“I promise to keep still,” she replies.

“Good.”

I run the lathered brush over her pubic bone and she gasps in response. She squirms under the brush.

“Don’t move,” I order with censure in my tone and run the brush once more. “Or I will tie you down,” I say daring her. I’d love to tie her down, shave her and fuck her. My cock twitches in response.

“Have you done this before?” she asks tentatively as I reach for the razor.

“No,” I say.

“Oh. Good,” she says grinning. I love that response in her.

“Another first, Mrs. Grey.”

“Hmmm. I like firsts.”

“Me, too. Here it goes.” I say and run the razor over the lips of her sex.

“Keep still,” I order as I’m completely focused on the task at hand and run the razor. I shave off all the hair. Once I’m convinced all the hair is gone, and the area is bald as the day she's born, I grab the towel and wipe off the excess lather.

“There... That’s more like it,” I muse. She lifts her arms up and looks at me as I sit back and admire her now completely deforested blooming sex.

“Happy?” she asks in a hoarse voice.

“Very,” I reply grinning, and now move onto the next thing I’ve been wanting to do since I got home. I ease a finger inside her. No hair. Just skin to skin, and she is deliciously wet. I lean down and run my bristles again over her sensitive nub making her moan, then my tongue snakes out, dipping into the folds of her bloom. She lifts her hips off the floor as her legs wrap around my shoulders. I tease her folds with my tongue. I lick her clit swirling my tongue, and a shudder goes through her.

“Oh please, Christian!” she begs.

“What do you want Ana? You have to tell me baby...” I whisper.

“I want you!” she demands.

“Do you want me to fuck you like this,” I say leaning down my tongue flicking around her sex, “or like this,” I say running my chin over her clit. She shouts my name, “Christian, please!”

“Please what, Ana?” I demand.

“Fuck me, please!” she says, and pulls me towards her with her legs.

“ Aren't you a demanding girl? But as it happens, I’m taking requests today,” I say, and looming over her, I slowly sink into her inch by inch, and hold myself there in my most favorite place in the world, inside my wife, then I start to move.