BOOK III - Chapter XV - Christian and Anastasia Fanfiction

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

CHAPTER XV

I open the door and reluctantly let Anastasia get off my lap and she steps out of the car and into the parking lot. I quickly zip my fly up, and following my wife, I let her climb into the passenger seat. I walk around and get to the driver’s side, and take the Blackberry off my seat; I call my inept security detail.

“Mr. Grey. This is Ryan,” he answers.

“Where’s Sawyer?” I snap at him angrily.

“I dropped him at Escala, sir,” he replies.

“And the Dodge? How come Sawyer’s not with you?”

“The driver of the Dodge was casing Escala and took off. I had to drop Sawyer off at Escala, because one of us has to be with you at all times per Taylor’s emergency instructions, and since Mrs. Grey was driving with you, we had to improvise, sir. And the woman that was driving the Dodge took off after noticing us approach and I’m currently chasing her,” he says in a flat tone.

“Her?”

“Yes, sir. It appears to be a female driver, though it’s not quite easy determine, because she’s wearing a baseball cap, but her hair seems to be long. Although the windows were heavily tinted, the driver’s features appear to be feminine. She seems to be speeding up in an effort to lose me on southbound I-5, sir.”   

“Stick with her,” I order.

“Will do, sir,” he replies as I hang up. Who the fuck is she? My mind goes through the many women I’ve known and fucked, or worked for me but no one seems to stick out as the type to do this sort of harm. Who? Who? Who? I gaze at Anastasia. I can almost see what she’s thinking even if she doesn’t word her thoughts.

“The driver of the Dodge is a female?” she asks.

“So it would appear,” I reply quietly. Fuck! I need to examine this closely. I have been contemplating cancelling Pella visit, but this changes everything. This may be the actual perp, or an accomplice. I’m burning with anger.

“Let’s go home,” I say starting the R8, and reverse out of the parking space.

“Where the, uhm... unsub? What does it mean anyway? It sounds very BDSM to me.”

Leave it to Anastasia to associate everything with a sexual connotation. She makes me smile even when I’m burning with rage.

“It stands for Unknown Subject. Ryan is ex-FBI,” I explain briefly.

“Ex-FBI?” she asks quizzically. Curiosity is not good for Anastasia.

“Don’t ask,” I say shaking my head. I don’t want to dwell on my security details' backgrounds right now. What I need to find out right is the identity of the fucking bitch that was following us.

“Well, where is this female unsub?” asks Anastasia. Here comes the inquisition.

“She’s on the I-5, heading south,” I say with grim eyes. Some fuck head came close to hurting me and my wife. I feel Anastasia’s gaze on me, worried and concerned once again. Despite the fact that I try to shield her from all this shit, she still gets the heat, it’s not good at all. I gotta get home, and assess the situation. Picking up on my mood, Anastasia reaches over to me, and runs her fingers on the inside of my jeans traveling northbound towards my crotch. I would love her to continue her mission, but I need to resolve this problem. I hold her hand before she goes any further.

“No,” I indicate clearly. “ We've made it this far. I’m sure you don’t want me to have an accident three blocks from home,” and take her hand up to my lips, feeling her disappointment. I don’t want her to think, I don’t want her. But this isn't the right time, and I need all my faculties together. She can affect me easily, and where she’s concerned, I’m already a half saluting soldier at all times. I have to be in charge, in control. Anastasia takes her hand, and remains quiet for a short while, mulling something in her head.

“Female?” she asks. 

“Apparently so,” I say sighing, and punching up the code for the Escala garage, I turn the R8 into the underground garage of the building.

“I really like this car,” she murmurs, and I thank God for her short attention span for changing her thoughts from the perp.

“Me, too. And I like how you handled it, and how you managed not to break it.”

After I park the car in one of my bays, she turns to me smirking and says, “You can buy me one for my birthday.” My mouth drops open. How on earth does she manage to do this to me midst a virtual storm? She manages to shock me every time. My wife, Anastasia Rose Grey who would fight and argue with me for giving her a gift, a mere set of books is now asking me to buy her an R8?

“A white one, I think,” she says leaning down.

I finally manage to smile at her. “Anastasia Grey, you never cease to amaze me.” She smiles and gets out of the car. My mind is racing. What I want is to dull the edge of this feeling; the feeling of being overwhelmed. What I need is control, what I need is a good, out of this world, mind blowing fucking with my wife. Maybe right here, right now! I saunter towards Anastasia, my eyes fixed on her with a carnal appreciation, and I gaze at her from the top of her head to her toes. My eyes linger on her hips and her legs. I stand in front of her very close, lean down and whisper, “You like the car. I like the car. I’ve fucked you in it... perhaps I should fuck you on it.” She gasps in response. So ready for me. One whispered word, one look, one gesture, and she’s putty in my hands. It’s only fair, because, I’m already one in hers. Damn, I can never get enough of her! Right then a sleek BMW drives into the garage, and my anxiety that was momentarily hidden behind a mental curtain is evident again. I’m annoyed, but I think it’s best. We’ll do this some other time. I smirk at Anastasia.

“But it looks like we have company. Come,” I say taking her hand. I can do more in my apartment. We walk to the elevators, and I push the call button. The guy who drove the BMW catches up to us, and joins us in waiting. I eye the man, assessing. A young guy, not 30 yet, dressed casually, with long layered dark hair. He’s either in the newspaper, or the TV. Smells like daddy’s money. His peripheral vision takes my wife in. He’s already taken by her. Who wouldn't?  She exudes an innocent beauty. And right now, she’s all fucked and mussed, and there’s the glow of a woman who is well satisfied. It’s irresistible to any man. I move in holding my wife closer, declaring my territory.

“Hi,” the fucker says right away. I nod in response. I’m in no mood to talk to someone who is eyeing my woman.

“I’ve just moved in. Apartment sixteen,” he says. And why do you think we need to know this information? I don’t give a shit!

“Hello,” Anastasia says with a smile. She checks him out, not in a carnal way, but curious. Don’t be curious about other men! I hold her a little closer to remind her that fact.

When the elevator arrives, we all walk in. I look down at my wife to focus on me. Not on this fucker. Me! I’m the husband you just fucked in a closed parking lot in a very licentious manner, remember?

“You’re Christian Grey,” says the enamored fucker.

I give him a tight smile reserved for people I don’t really care for, but need to be polite for obvious reasons.

“Noah Logan,” he says introducing himself. He extends his hand, and social conventions make me reluctantly take his hand. I squeeze it firmly so he understands who the top dog is.

“Which floor?” he asks.

“I have to input a code.”

“Oh.”

“Penthouse.”

“Oh,” he smiles wide. “Of course,” he replies as if he just realized that I only get the best apartment. He presses for the 8^th floor and the elevator doors close. “Mrs. Grey, I presume,” he says fixing his gaze on Anastasia.

“Yes,” she says smiling, and shakes his hand. With the given introduction opportunity he gazes at her and flushes. Flushes! Another fucking admirer and I grip my wife tighter. She’s mine! Keep your eyes, and your distance away from her!

“When did you move in?” Anastasia asks. Why the hell are you curious?

“Last weekend. I love the place.” Sure you do. Now that you've met my wife, I bet you like it even better! I say nothing. The awkward silence continues because he realizes that I’m territorial, my gaze is fixed on him saying ‘back the fuck off!’ He gives a brief sigh of relief when the elevator reaches his floor.

“Great to meet you both,” he says and quickly walks out. When the doors close, I enter the code to the penthouse, and the elevator starts its ascend again.

“He seemed nice,” says Anastasia. “I’ve never met any of the neighbors before.” I scowl. She doesn’t need to meet anyone, especially if they’re going to ogle her like this fucker.

“I prefer it that way.”

“That’s because you’re a hermit. I thought he was pleasant enough.” What the hell?

“A hermit?”

“Hermit. Stuck in your ivory tower,” she says. Leave it to my wife to simply me in one elementary sentence. She changes my mood, leaves me speechless. A small smile creeps up my face.

“Our ivory tower. And I think you have another name to add to the list of your admirers, Mrs. Grey.”

She rolls her eyes at me which could earn her a spanking. I hope.

“Christian, you think everyone is an admirer.”

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

Her breath hitches. Her eyes dilate. She looks hopeful. “I sure did,” she whispers in a breathy voice.

All kinds of punishments I can apply to this transgression, and I don’t mind delivering any of them should she so desire. I cock my head to the side arrogantly. My gaze is amused. “What shall we do about that?” I ask hypothetically.

“Something rough.” What the fuck? Did she just say that? She wants something...rough?

I’m completely shocked to hear it.

“Rough?” I ask thinking I might have heard her wrong.

“Please,” she replies desirously.

“You want more?” after the car sex? She nods her response slowly and clearly. The elevator doors open. I’m all ears, and cock. I mean cocked. I mean, you know what I mean...

“How rough?” I ask her breathing hard, my eyes darkening with desire.

She gazes at me without an answer. She wants me to choose? We are going to have some fucking fun! I push the double doors to find Sawyer standing in the hallway. He is expecting to be debriefed. But, right now, I don’t give a shit. There won't be any debriefing until Mrs. Grey is thoroughly fucked and completely satisfied.

“Sawyer, I’d like to be debriefed in an hour.”

“Yes, sir,” she says to wait in Taylor’s office.

I glance down at my wife. “Rough?” I ask, seeking confirmation. She nods in response.

“Well, Mrs. Grey. You’re in luck. I’m taking requests today.”

“Do you have anything in mind?” I ask binding her with my gaze. She just shrugs, completely breathless as if she ran a marathon, and she looks flustered. Why? All the earlier excitement? Is she in a bad mood? I know how to soothe and take the edge of all those feelings.

“Kinky fuckery?” I ask softly. She nods, her face going crimson. After all that fucking we've done, she can still blush like crazy, and I love that about her. She beguiles me. She needs a shakeup. She needs affirmation. I need to make her feel alive, and excited to be with me.

“Carte blanche?” I whisper. She is nervous, but hot and excited. “Yes,” she murmurs. I smile. Fuck, yeah!

“Come,” I say tugging her towards the stairs. We are going to play. I need this as much as she. I need that connection. I need to feel that I’m in control of some aspects of my life, of our lives. I need to feel in charge. I need to feel like that man I am. When we get to the top of the stairs, I let go of her hand to unlock the playroom door. It’s hanging on the Yes Seattle key-chain Anastasia gave me confirming her answer to my proposal.

I swing the door open, and with a swoop of my hand, I say, “After you, Mrs. Grey.”

Anastasia walks in slowly. I turn the soft lights on, close the door behind and lock it. The familiar smell of leather, wood and citrus polish is ever present. I turn to my wife and find her gazing at me. I look at her cocking my head to one side. What exactly does she want? And why does she want it? I need to know.

“What do you want, Anastasia?” I ask softly.

“You,” she replies. That’s a broad answer, and a given. I’m hers already.

I smirk in response. “ You've got me. In fact you've had me since you fell into my office.” She takes in a shuddering breath and replies:

“Surprise me then, Mr. Grey.”

I’d love to. I smile with a carnal promise on my lips. “As you wish, Mrs. Grey.”  I fold my arms over, and raising my hand, I graze my lips with my index finger, assessing Anastasia.

“I think we’ll start by divesting you of your clothes,” I say as I step forward towards her. I grasp the front of her denim jacket and open it. Slowly inserting my hands under it, I push it off her shoulders. It falls onto the floor. Then I clasp the hem of her black camisole.

“Lift your arms,” I order. She obeys instantly. I peel it off of her. I lean down and plant a soft kiss on her lips. My body is vibrating with lust and desire; my eyes are exuding my love for her. I drop her camisole onto the floor.

“Here,” she says giving me her hair tie. I still for a moment. She knows I tie her hair when we have hard core kinky fuckery. Do we want to do this? I know she wants it, and God knows I want it. I need it. Really, desperately need it. It’ll make me feel in control even if it is just for a little while when everything else feels out of control. But I don’t want to hurt, or mark her. I don’t want this to be the thing that breaks us apart. It’s a hard water to tread. Fuck! She looks edible! I take the hair band from her without breaking my gaze.

“Turn around,” I order, having made up my mind. She hands it over. She wants this as much as I do. She looks relieved too. I pick her hair up, and braid it quickly, and then fasten it with the tie. I tug the braid and pull her head back.

“Good thinking, Mrs. Grey,” I whisper into her ear, and nip her earlobe. “I want you to now turn around and take your skirt off. Let it fall to the floor. Slowly,” I say and release her. Stepping back she turns to face me. Her gaze locked with mine, she unbuttons the waistband of her skirt, and slowly pulls the zipper down. Her skirt fans out and falls to the floor, pooling at her feet.

“Step out from your skirt,” I order, and she steps towards me. Without letting her move any further, I kneel in front of her, grasping her right ankle I unbuckle her sandals one at a time. She holds onto the wall to balance herself. After removing her sandals, I rock back on my heels and gaze up at my wife who looks glorious just in her lacy bra and panties. Damn! What a magnificent sight. I am one lucky son of a bitch! “You are a fine sight Mrs. Grey,” I whisper. The urge to bury myself in her is overwhelming, and intoxicating. I kneel and grasp her hips and pull her towards me. Burying my nose in the apex of her thighs, I inhale her deep, letting her scent saturate inside my head, giving me a high.

“And you smell of you and me and sex,” I say sharply. “It’s alluring, intoxicating.”

I kiss her through her lacy panties, and feel her get wetter. She gasps, and a shudder runs through her entire body. That’s right. Then I let her go, and pick her clothes up off the floor and stand up.

“I want you to go and stand beside the table,” I say in calm, commanding voice, indicating the direction with my chin. Then I make my way to the toys chest. She eyes my every move, every step I take, and every gesture I make. I smirk. She’s captivated.

“Face the wall,” I order. “That way you won’t know what I’m planning. We aim to please, Mrs. Grey, and you wanted a surprise.”

She turns away from me, but curious, all attention. She waits...

After putting away her sandals and her clothes, I take my own shoes off, slowly, and leisurely. Building her anticipation. I make my way to the chest of drawers where I keep the toys, and open the drawer up. What shall I do to you Mrs. Grey? Oh yes... I think we will have fun with this. My wife is still a virgin so to speak. An anal virgin. I’m thinking we’re going to rectify that situation quite soon. I pick up a few other toys that will intensify her pleasure, and my excitement. What pleases her, arouses me... Immensely. My pleasure is directly proportionate to hers. It’s a very simple equation, really.

I go to the stereo and choose the music for this scene. A subtle hissing sound of the stereo fills the room then the mournful chords of a lone piano are heard. The chords of the Great Gig in the Sky start playing. I take my shirt off and place it with her clothes.

Great Gig in the Sky - Pink Floyd

As the female vocal start crooning her wails, I leisurely walk towards my wife. The only sound other than the music is the padding of my feet on the wood floors. I’m behind her, standing, not touching. I lean down and breathe my question in her left ear.

“Rough, you say, Mrs. Grey?”

“Hmm.”

“You have to tell me to stop if it’s too much. If you say stop, I will stop immediately. Do you understand?” I ask as Pink Floyd starts crooning.

 “And I am not frightened of dying any time will do, I 

Don’t mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? 

There’s no reason for it, you’ve gotto go sometime. 

I never said I was frightened of dying...”

The music is out of this world; with my wife’s presence, in this state, submitting to me is simply heaven. 

“Yes,” she replies. That’s not enough. I don’t want her to try to endure and then leave me. I want to be able to trust her in this room, in fact everywhere, but it’s very imperative that she does communicate with me. We are lovers. Part of pleasing one’s lover goes through fully trusting the other. I want to trust her. Trust that she will tell me if it’s overwhelming.

“I need your promise,” I say commanding. The tone and the sound of my voice make her inhale sharply.

“I promise,” she says immediately.

“Good girl,” I say, and leaning down I kiss her on her shoulder. I hook my fingers underneath her bra straps, and trace my fingers over the line across her back. A shiver runs through her body, and she sighs desirously.

“Take it off,” I whisper at her ear, and she does faster than a speeding bullet. Eager, Mrs. Grey? I smile. My hands skim down her back, I hook my thumbs into her panties, and slowly let them slide down. Once they pool around her feet, “Step,” I order. And she does exactly she’s told. I slowly plant a kiss on her backside.

“I’m now going to blindfold you so that everything will be more intense,” I say. Losing the sense of sight, alerts the body to heighten the other senses; make it focus on feelings of touch, smell, taste, and hearing to observe the surroundings and sensations. And because the body is hyper-aware of every other sense, it also increases the pleasure many folds.

“Bend down and lie flat on the table,” I say softly, but firmly. “Now.”

She immediately obeys, bends and holds the sides of the table. Her face is flush against the surface of the table.

“Stretch your arms up and hold on to the edge,” I instruct. She does so, hesitantly.

“If you let go, I will spank you. Do you understand?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says understanding. But I don’t want to do something she doesn’t want done. I want her consent all the way.

“Do you want me to spank you, Anastasia?” I ask.

“Yes,” she replies in a hoarse, barely heard whisper. Is she unsure? Unwilling? Is she just trying to please me?

“Why?” I ask, trying to understand.

She shrugs in response. That will not do. I need to know. I need to understand, so I don’t do it for the wrong reasons. It’s only for pleasure.

“Tell me,” I coax.

“Uhm...” she replies. That’s a non-answer. Perhaps a test is in order. I lift my hand up, and smack her buttocks hard.

“Ah!” she cries out.

“Hush now.”

I rub her ass with my hand gently. Then encasing her between my hips, my erection digging into her, I plant a kiss between her shoulder blades and trail kisses across her back. My chest hair grazes on her back, and my erection reminds her of what’s to come and who the boss is as it digs into her soft flesh through the rough fabric of my jeans.

“Open your legs,” I order.

She immediately obeys.

“Wider,” I say. She groans and spreads her legs wider.

“Good girl,” I breathe. My fingers trace down on her back, and right along the crack of her ass, and over her anus.

“We are going to have some fun with this,” I whisper. She is no longer going to be an anal virgin. No need to keep the best assets in the box, and hidden away. It’s better to take it out and play with it. More fun.

I trace my finger over her perineum and slowly dip inside her sex.

“I see you’re very wet, Anastasia. Is it from earlier or from now?” I ask. It’s completely hot. She groans in response. I know she’s hot now and desirous for me.

“Oh, Ana, I think it’s both. I really think you love being here, like this. Mine,” I say. The realization that my wife loves being in our playroom, knowing that I demand, desire, and require absolute control in this room, being mine, is absolutely astounding. She says nothing, but her body language indicates that she loves being here. I withdraw my fingers from her sex, and smack her buttocks hard, once again.

“Tell me,” I whisper in a hoarse, urgent voice. I need to know. I have to know! 

“Yes, I do,” she replies in a whimper. Her response is a source of arousal, ecstasy even.

I smack her ass once again hard, and she cries out. I stick two fingers into her this time. Withdrawing them immediately, I spread the moisture over and around her anus.

“What are you going to do?” she asks in a breathless voice. She wants to know if I’m going to fuck her ass, but my cock is too big for her ass right now. She’s an anal virgin. I don’t want to hurt her. This is a gradual process.  

"It's not what you think," I reassure her. "I told you, one step at a time with this, baby."  I take the lubricant tube into my hand, and squeeze it into my palm. Then spreading it around my hand, I take my now lubricated fingers, and start massaging her anus, softening it, making it easy for the butt plug to glide in.  She squirms under my touch. I need her to remain still. I smack her ass once again, down lower, right on her sex. She groans with pleasure, as I intended her.  

"Keep still," I remind her. "And don't let go."  

"Ah," she moans with desire.  

"This is lubrication," I explain, and spread more over her buttocks and anus. I can feel her body pulsing with excitement, heating up under my touch. 

"I have wanted to do this to you for sometime now Ana," I say in a dark voice. She groans in response. I take the butt plug and run it down on her spine.  

"I have a small present for you here," I whisper. As the butt plug reaches to her crack. I part it with the butt plug, and it just glides because I've lubricated it well.  

"I'm going to push this inside you, very slowly, baby." She takes in a shuddering breath in anticipation.  

"Will it hurt?" she asks.  

"No baby. It's a small one. Once it's inside you, I'm going to fuck you real hard," I say wanton. Excitement is paramount. I have wanted to do this for a long time. 

"Ready?" I whisper.  

A very quiet "yes," comes out of her lips, almost a hoarse whisper. I run my finger over her ass and perineum and slip my finger into her sex again, gently caressing her clitoris. Anastasia moans, and opens up more, pushing her sex into my hand. As my finger pleasures her inside her sex, my thumb circles and massages her clit. Then, as I make sure her muscles are relaxed, I slowly push the butt plug into her anus.  

"Ah!" she groans with the sensation which must be foreign to her. But I want to teach her the pleasures I can provide to her. The plug glides into her ass, and my thumb now swirls inside her. 

"Oh, baby!" I say, completely aroused, ready to fuck her into next week. I swirl my thumb once again and twist the plug inside her ass to provide her a pleasurable sensation, make her feel the orgasmic stimulation it can provide, take her to the edge. As I twist the plug, she moans, long and hard. 

"Christian," she mumbles my name in a garbled litany on her lips.  

"Good girl," I murmur through gritted teeth. I unzip my pants, and my cock springs out fully erected. I grasp Anastasia's other hip and pull her back and part her legs further, my feet effectively pushing her to keep them open.  

"Don't let go of the table, Ana," I warn her.

"No," she gasps. 

“Something rough? Tell me if I’m too rough. Understand?" I ask her. 

"Yes," she whispers, and my cock slams into her deep. As I  thrust into her, I pull her to me at the same time and that also jolts the butt plug forward, making it go deeper and the sensation spreads all over her body.

“Fuck!” Anastasia cries out.

I hold still immediately. I want her to get used to the sensation. It’s incredibly pleasurable, but equally intense.

“Again?” I whisper my question.

“Yes.”

“Stay flat,” I command. I slowly ease out, and ram into her again.

“Yes!” she hisses, and that is my cue to pick up the pace. I repeatedly thrust and hammer into her, each time my breathing is getting more labored, I’m singularly focused, and the sensation takes both of us to the precipice getting us higher, and higher.

“Oh, Ana,” I gasp. This is euphoria, this is heaven. This is my woman. I move my right hand from her hip and twist the plug again, and tugging it slowly I pull it out slowly, and then push it back in as my cock is doing the same never missing a beat, again and again and again. As I start feeling her sex tightening inside, wrapping my cock up like a tight glove, I feel her start quivering, and building inside. I take my pace up high, faster, and deeper. I’m lost in our connection; I’m in charge of our pleasures.

“Oh fuck!” Anastasia moans.

“Yes, baby,” I hiss through my teeth.

“Please,” she begs as her sex gets tighter with built up pleasure start pulling my cock in, trying to milk it.

“That’s right,” I breathe, and right when I feel her reach to her zenith, I slap her right buttock and she is lost to her climax. She comes in rolling waves, over and over again, passing her sensation into my body through our connection pulling me with her.

“Fuck!” she screams, and her words are my undoing, I come in thick spurts grabbing her hips, and finally finding my own release, I hold her still.   

Because the stereo is in repeat mode, the velvety voice of the female singer is still singing her lamenting melody. Anastasia is curled up in my arms, as she sits on my lap, and our legs are tangled up with each other’s. She’s tired; her head is resting against my chest on the playroom floor.

 “Welcome back,” I say as I remove her blindfold off.  She blinks her eyes to get them adjusted to the light again. With my index and middle finger I tilt her chin up, and kiss her on the lips, all the while my gaze is searching hers anxiously. What did think about this experience? Did she hate it? Love it? Unsure? She reaches up to caress my face gently, lovingly, and pleased. Relief floods over me and I smile.

“Well, did I fulfill the brief Mrs. Grey?” I ask, amused.

“Brief?” she asks frowning, not understanding my question.

“You wanted rough,” I remind her gently.

Her replying grin is a pleasure to see. “Yes, I think you did..”

She thinks? I raise my eyebrows in response and grin back at her. “I’m very glad to hear that Mrs. Grey. You look thoroughly well fucked and beautiful at this moment,” I say caressing her face, and stroking her cheek. God! Is she beautiful!

“I feel it,”  she murmurs.

I reach down and kiss my wife, sweetly, tenderly, molding my lips over hers. “You never disappoint.” I lean back and gaze at my wife in awe.

“How do you feel?” I ask softly, anxiously. This is her first time, like the virgin she was with me. I need to know I didn't hurt her, but then again, I also want to know that I took her to the peaks of pleasure.

“Good,” she murmurs her reply. “Thoroughly well fucked,” she says shyly. Her response takes me by surprise.

“Why Mrs. Grey, you have a dirty, dirty mouth,” I say with faux outrage, but it’s hard for me to hide my amusement when she’s well satisfied, and saying it out loud. Fuck! It’s another turn-on!

“That’s because I’m married to a dirty, dirty boy, Mr. Grey,” she says, and that simple response, that simple sentence elates me, making me immensely joyful. I grin so hard my face hurts, and her responding grin is simply amazing. “I’m glad you’re married to him,” I say. That makes her completely mine in the sight of everyone, the society, and God. She’s mine on heaven and earth. What more can a man ask for? I gently take a hold of her braid, and lifting it up, I kiss it, my eyes alight with love for her, radiating it in such a way that only the way a man in love can show.

My simple action glows her eyes warmly. She reaches out and takes my left hand and gently kisses it on my wedding band. “Mine,” she whispers, and that one word tugs something deep in my heart, calling me to her.

“Yours,” I respond, helplessly. My arms coil around her tighter, and I bury my nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply. “Shall I run you a bath?” I ask.

“Hmm...” she replies tired. “Only if you join me in it,” she says. That’s easily done.

“Okay,” I reply. Standing her on her feet, I rise next to her. She eyes my jeans I’m still wearing.

“Will you wear your... uhm.. other jeans?” she asks. What other jeans is she asking for? I frown racking my brain.

“Other jeans?” I ask.

“The ones you used to wear in here,” I say.

“Those jeans?” I murmur surprised. Those are the ones that belong to my dom persona. Is that what she wants in here? They turn her on?

“You look very hot in them,” she says shyly.

“Do I?” I ask, suddenly very interested. Her opinions matter, and I’m constantly taking mental notes.

“Yeah... I mean, really hot,” she says, and it’s my turn to feel shy. I never feel shy. Why do I feel that way? Is it because my wife can profoundly affect me? I smile at her.

“Well for you Mrs. Grey, maybe I will.” Make it a definitely I will. I lean down and kiss her again. Then take the small bowl on the table containing the butt plug, the lubricant bottle, the blindfold and my wife’s lacy panties.

“Who cleans these toys?” she asks as she follows me to the chest of drawers.

I’m not sure what exactly she’s asking. “Me. Mrs. Jones,” I reply absently.

“What?” she asks completely surprised. Her monosyllabic response takes me aback, and I finally nod, amused by it, but also a little embarrassed. I turn the stereo off. Do I tell her? Shall I tell her and turn her off. “Well, uhm...” One of the fifteen... Dare I say that?

“Your subs used to do it?” she asks. I shrug apologetically. I don’t want to talk about the fifteen. They’re done and over with. She’s my wife, my life.

I hand her my t-shirt, “Here,” I say, wanting to change the topic. She puts it on. I leave the items on the chest, and take my wife’s hand. I unlock the playroom door, and holding my wife’s hand I take her out of the room, and lead her downstairs to our bedroom.

We enter into our bedroom, and then walk into the master bathroom. I hear Anastasia give out a loud, relaxing yawn, and she stretches her arms up, lifting the t-shirt nearly up to her crotch.

“What is it?” I ask as I turn the tub’s faucet on. She shakes her head as if to say nothing. No, it’s never just nothing with her.

“Tell me,” I coax her softly. I pour some jasmine bath oil into the running water. The sweet aroma fills the bathroom. It’s relaxing, and sensual all at the same time.

She flushes. “I just feel better,” she says. I smile in response. She’s thoroughly well fucked, and that will have a relaxing affect. “ You've been in a strange mood today, Mrs. Grey,” I say, and suddenly I pull her into my arms. It’s been a strange day. She’s been stressed, and worried since she heard the arson, and even though I share as little as possible, she’s tense, upset, nervous, and having nightmares. I don’t know how else to chase those feelings away. I want protect her from the world, and I feel inept especially after this evening’s car chase.

“I know you've been worrying about these recent events. I’m really sorry that you’re caught up in them, baby. I don’t know what it is, whether it’s a vendetta, an ex-employee, or a business rival. If anything were to happen to you because of me...” I say, my voice breaking in the end. I’m in agony. She curls her arms around me, reassuringly.

“What if something happens to you, Christian?” she says, scared. I look down and search her gaze. Is she worried about me like I’m worried about her? The fear is written all over her eyes and her face. “We’ll figure this out. Now let’s get you out of this shirt and into this bath.”

“ Shouldn't you talk to Sawyer?” she asks.

“He can wait,” I say as my mouth is turning into a hard line. I’m going to let him have it, but he can brew for the time being. I take my t-shirt off her, and when she faces me, I frown. I can still see the faded hickies on her breasts from our honeymoon. Shit! Why do I feel so guilty? Everything that hurts her hurts me. We’re connected. I love her. It’s that simple. I love her beyond love.

“I wonder if Ryan has caught up with the Dodge?” she asks.

“We’ll see, after this bath. Get in.” I hold my hand out for her. She takes it, and climbs into the bathtub.

“Ow!” she protests as she sinks into the hot water, her face wincing. Her ass must be hurting. Just like she was when she lost her virginity to me.

“Easy, baby,” I say softly. I take my clothes off, and climb behind my wife, pulling her against my chest. I need this connection. I need to feel her, hold her, know that she’s safe in my arms. She nestles between my legs, my cock is touching her back. I pick her braid up with one hand, and start twirling it between my fingers absently.

“We need to go over the plans for the new house. Later this evening?” I ask.

“Sure,” she says unsure. Why is she uneasy? Is it about the house? The events of the day? Of the architect?

“I have to get ready for work,” she says in a whisper.

What? I don’t want her to go to work. Anytime she’s away from where I can protect her, I feel nervous, uneasy, and on pins and needles. I have all the money in the world to take care of her.

“You know you don’t have to go back to work,” I murmur.

“Christian, we've been through this. Please don’t’ resurrect that argument,” she protests. That’s a battle I won’t win. With her, I have to pick my battles. One of the things I’m beginning to learn in relationships. I pull her braid making her face tilt up and back. “Just saying...” I murmur and plant a kiss on her soft lips.

After the bath is done, I put my jeans and t-shirt on, and walk to my study. Sawyer follows me behind like an errant student going into the principal’s room.

“Where the fuck were you?” I shout as soon as he closes the door behind.

“I’m sorry sir, we've lost you as soon as Mrs. Grey drove out quickly into the traffic."

“Don’t tell me that you missed the lesson at the FBI when they taught the rest of you how to catch up to 21 year old women drivers who are only semi proficient in driving!” I bellow. He turns crimson to his hairline.

“Do you realize the danger you put both of us in? It’s your job to catch up. It’s your job to be at least a better driver than the people you’re protecting! If she runs the red light, you don’t sit at the light twiddling your thumbs to wait for the next green light! You run the light after her! If you’re going to follow the law at every turn, if simple red lights are going to stop you from doing your job and endangering her life in return, I don’t need you! Do you, fucking get me Sawyer?”

“Clearly, sir.”

“How the fuck can I trust you with her protection when you can’t even protect her with Ryan, and me present? Can you fucking do your job or do I have to fire you and get someone who can?”

“I can sir. It will not happen again.”

“It better not! I don’t grant concessions, and I don’t forgive easily. There’s no margin of error when it comes to Mrs. Grey! Is that absolutely clear to you?”

“Yes, sir. Perfectly clear.”

“Now get out and find out where Ryan is! As soon as he’s back, I need to be briefed by both of you!”

“Yes, sir,” he says ashen faced, and leaves my study.

I run my hands through my hair in exasperation. I sit behind my desk. I have to regain control of all the events overtaking our lives. I take my Blackberry out, and dial Welch.

“Mr. Grey?” he replies on the second ring.

“Welch! Have to talked to Sawyer or Ryan today?”

“Yes, sir. I’m up to speed. Black Dodge, with false license plates. They said it’s was a female driver.”

“Any characteristics that can be matched to some known criminal or anyone associated with me in the past?”

“It’s too early to tell Mr. Grey. The unsub didn't have any identifying marks. The license was false. We have to backtrack sir. I will have access the CCTV around Seattle, and see if I can locate the car chase on any of their cameras granted that it’s recorded. I may have to break a few laws for it.”

“Do it! I want the perp caught!”

“I have a meeting with Pella tomorrow night. We’re busily gathering evidence to evaluate, Mr. Grey.”

That takes me aback. “I thought he was coming on Tuesday.”

“No, he’s coming Monday night, but he’s meeting you Tuesday, sir. We need to brief him, and give him time to examine the evidence we've been collecting, and discuss our conclusions.”

I exhale a long breath.

“Fine. I want to be notified immediately if you uncover anything in the CCTV videos. Meanwhile, I need to evaluate the videos from the Grey House server room.”

“Barney has access to them, sir. He’s one of the best IT guys in the state of Washington, and he knows every software before it comes out. In fact he’s assisting me and my team in trying to get a clear image so we can use the facial recognition software to run against the state and federal records, you know, FBI and so on. But more importantly, I want to compare it with our current and past employees to see if we can come up with a match.”

“I’ll talk to Barney about it then. Now, here’s what I want you to do. I want additional security for each of my family member, and us here, and no later than tomorrow. Send me the names and backgrounds within the next hour or so...”

“I will have to go through the list of security detail and compile a list for you sir, and send you the detailed info tonight. I would appreciate it if you informed your family right away, because Miss Grey locked them out last time, and she wouldn't let them in, sir...”

“Leave that to me. I want the names, and once I send you the green light, they’re to be on site 7 a.m. in the morning before anyone goes to work.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies and I hang up.

Now, I have to call my parents, Elliot, and Mia... I give out an exasperated sigh, run both my hands through my hair, and prop my elbows on my desk, holding my head in my hands. Once I discover the identity of the fucker, and his or her possible accomplices, I will make sure they suffer as much as they made us suffer. You get once chance to fuck me over, then it’s my turn!

I take the Blackberry off my desk determined, and dial my mom’s number.

“Hello?” she answers.

“Hey mom. Good evening,” I say. 

                                                              ****❦ ♡ ❧*****

It takes me nearly an hour to talk to every single member of my family informing them of the added security yet again. I’m surprised that it was harder to convince my mother and Mia than my dad and Elliot. But in the end they had to reluctantly agree that the security is necessary until the perp is caught.

“But, Christian! Honestly, I’m the only one among my friends who has Rambos trailing behind her! Have you ever tried going to a spa with three enormous guys behind you? Granted that Lily likes them, and she always tries to undress right when one of those guys are nearby, which they always are, but, they’re annoying!”

God, my sister is more annoying sometimes than any other woman I have met!

“Mia, this is only until this perp is caught. We were chased this afternoon right after we left mom and dad’s house. Clearly whoever this is knows where my family is. I am not putting any of you at risk. You must trust me on this! I want you to promise me that you will not try to skip the security, or leave them locked outside of the house...”

She groans loudly in response.

“Mia!” I order.

“Christian, your bossy shit doesn’t work on me, and you know that!”

“Mia, I’m under a lot of stress. Don’t start with me! This is a safety measure that we must all follow. Until the perpetrator is caught. Okay?”

“Fine! I will let them in, and let them follow me. But whatever the hell your problem is solve it soon, because it’s like five times the security we have now. It’s suffocating!”

“Thank you Mia!”

“Welcome... Oh, Christian...” she says softened.

“Yes?”

“I love you. Stay safe, okay? And Ana, too,” she says. With the mention of Anastasia’s name, I take a deep breath in. The thought is always in the back of my mind. Scaring me, keeping the sleep away, and making me nervous. I can’t lose my wife, or any member of my family to something, or someone tied up with me. It’s a stab wound and the knife is twisting non-stop.

“I will. I love you, too, Mia.” I respond and hang up.

There is an odd tapping noise on my desk, and I realize that it’s the pen I’m holding in my hand. My hand is gripping the pen so tight, my knuckles are white, and my hand is shaking in anger and frustration. My eyes are ablaze. I need to go and work out to dull this feeling, but I won’t until I have some sort of a starting point. I need to gain control of the events that have been plaguing us. The only evidence we have for now is the video feed from the Grey House server room.

Suddenly it’s very important for me to see it. Maybe I can recognize the person. I dial Barney’s number. He answers on the fourth ring.

“Hi Mr. Grey. I’m sorry I couldn't get to the phone right away. I was in the server room.”

“You’re at work?”

“Yes, sir. I haven’t had access to the server room until the police department gave us a go ahead, and I wanted to examine some of the items. I spoke to Welch after you did, and I got to thinking...” he says.

“What? You found something?” I ask hopeful.

“No, but I’m going on a hunch sir. Now a typical server room has three different systems: Mechanical system, electrical system and alarm and security system. For the first two, there’s not much I can examine other than what Welch and the police had already done, and it’s been off limits for us. But the third one I could do something about. Tonight, as I was thinking about the security system, I remembered having installed something on the electrical system, and I have totally forgotten about it.”

“What did you install?”

“Warren, my IT tech, kept changing some of the settings in the server room in the past. I had told him not to, but I think he’s done it once again a few weeks ago...”

“Barney, is this story going someplace?”

“I installed a small camera in the server room just monitoring the racks directly, because I didn't want my set-up to be changed. Anyway, that camera is small and the images would be grainy, but I thought I’d record Warren opening the UPS rack I have forbidden him to change.”

“UPS rack?” I ask.

“Stands for Uninterruptible Power Supply, sir. I like to have it isolated, as a separate unit and Warren likes it...” he starts going all technical on me and when he hears my groans, he cuts it short. 

“...well, anyway, sir, the fire started right on the UPS rack. That’s what powers the servers and actually keeps it uninterrupted. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The tiny camera I have placed records only when it’s tripped and the angle is odd, but I have just remembered that it was there. And there is feedback, a small recording... I just checked the date. It’s not Warren; it’s clearly visible in the video. I was just about to share the information with Welch... The general video on top of the room records the tops of people’s heads. If a person is careful, they may totally avoid displaying their faces on the camera which was what happened sir. We couldn't identify the perp on that camera feed.”

“But, now you have another feed?” I ask hopeful.

“I believe we do sir,” he says, and for the first time since the arson, I feel relief. Immense relief! God bless the territorial geeks who work for me. If we can identify the perp even slightly, I might even give Warren a bonus for ticking Barney off messing around his perfect technical set-up and Barney a bonus for wanting to monitor Warren’s activities for screwing his style.

“Show me the video then...”

“Of course, sir. I need you to login to the Grey House server. I’m going to e-mail you the link. I’ll be sharing desktop with you, and you can see everything I’m looking at on my monitor,” he says, and I fire up my laptop. After logging into my e-mail I locate Barney’s message with the desktop sharing instructions.

“I see you on my computer sir. You’re logged in. I’m going to let you see the video, sir. And there won’t be any sound, just video,” he says.

“Okay.”

“What I’m going to try to do is this: I will run the video feeds side by side. The one from the overhead, and the one from my spy camera.”

“Did you just say spy camera?” I ask. He clears his throat. Is there a Spies R Us store somewhere?

“Yes, sir. The Gadgets and Gears. Anyway...” he says clearing his throat again, clearly uncomfortable. Huh... Gadgets and Gears; 007’s technical guy Agent Q, the Quartermaster must also shop there as well.

After 10 minutes of watching the video feed from different angles, I say, “Barney can you combine these feeds to make it into one? That way I don’t miss the angles.”

“Give me a minute sir. It is doable, a simple fix...” he says. And in a few minutes, the videos are combined. It’s short, but still something. It’s evidence that someone had been in my server room. It’s tangible now. I can see the perp in that image. I watch it a few times. There is one frame where the perp looks in the direction of the camera but he makes sure he keeps his head down at all times as if all the walls are going to record him.

“Hold that right there Barney!” I say. He freezes the frame.

“What I want you to do is to enhance this particular image,” I order.

“The footage may be grainy Mr. Grey, but I will utilize a Noise Reduction tool which may help me fix the problem,” he says, and the image first distorts on the screen then clears just a little. But it’s not very clear yet.

Right then someone barges through my office door. I look up, feeling quite annoyed of the intrusion, and already irritated. I see Anastasia walk in. All my annoyance and irritation disappears. My eyes are fixed on her, and hers on me.

“Can you enhance that image any further?” I ask, my gaze fixated on my wife.

“I will try sir, but I may not be able to,” he replies.

Anastasia walks around my desk towards me. I turn my chair to turn to her, frowning. Is something the matter? I’ve been holed up in my office for some time. But did something happen? She looks... upset... She says nothing, and just crawls on my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. I’m alarmed immediately. What’s wrong?

“Uhm.. yes, Barney. Could you hold one moment?”

“Certainly, sir.”

I cup the phone against my shoulder to have some much privacy from Barney.

“Ana, what’s wrong?” She doesn’t say anything; just shakes her head. Something must be wrong. Why this clinginess? I tip her chin up, and search the answer in her eyes. She pulls her head free of my hand and just tucks it under my chin, and curls up on my lap like an infant, small, needing reassurance, protection. That’s what she needs. She’s worried. Her arms grasp me tighter.

Still confused, I wrap my left arm around her, and kiss the top of her head to give the reassurance she’s seeking.

“Okay, Barney, what were you saying?” I ask.

“I’m trying to enhance the image sir. Let me use a different Noise Reduction tool... It may work better. But I’m going to run the video feed once again. Once we get to the image, I need you to press, Control and Plus sign keys together which should enlarge your view of the image on your screen, sir.”

The video feed starts again. The image is a grainy black and white CCTV image from the server room camera. There’s a man with dark hair wearing pale coveralls on the screen.

“Okay, Mr. Grey, now, we’re going to jump into the feed from the spy cam. I need you to hold down the Alt and then press the Tab key and it should only jump you from one feed to the other,” he says. Then we are in the other grainy video feed. I now see the man with his head bowed. He’s walking towards the camera. I freeze the frame. The man is in the server room by the server racks. Barney enhances the image I froze. I still can’t see it well enough.

“Okay Barney, one more time,” I ask. The image is zoomed in, Anastasia sits up, completely fascinated with the process.

“Is Barney doing this?” she asks quietly.

“Yes,” I reply. “Can you sharpen the picture at all Barney?”

“Let’s see if it’ll work, sir.” He does his magic, and the image on the screen first blurs, then refocuses slightly sharper. The man is avoiding looking anywhere other than the floor, but because of the spy cam’s angle, it’s closer than what we had from the overhead cameras. I gaze at the image on the screen. I can’t recognize the person in the frame. Anastasia leans in, and immediately stiffens. She recognizes him.

“Christian,” she whispers in a shaky voice. “That’s Jack Hyde.” What?

“You think?” I ask, completely shocked.

“Yes. It’s the line of his jaw,” she says pointing at the screen. “And the earring and the shape of his shoulders. He’s the right build as well. He’s either wearing a wig, or he’s cut and dyed his hair,” she says completely convinced.

“Barney, are you getting this?” I ask and put Barney on speaker phone. Then I turn to Anastasia and glare at her none too pleased for recognizing the body type and details of his shape down to his the slump of his shoulders.

“You seem to have studied your ex-boss in some detail, Mrs. Grey,” I say putting the emphasis on Mrs. She’s my wife. She was my girlfriend when she was working with him. The only man she should have been studying was me! Not that fucker!

“Yes, sir. I heard Mrs. Grey. I’m running face recognition software on all the digitized CCTV and this S-cam footage right now,” he says smoothly, “See where else this asshole....I’m sorry ma’am... this man has been within the organization.”  Asshole would do just fine! I have other nouns to add to that list! I look at the screen closely to see if I can recognize him myself.

“Why would he do this?” Anastasia asks. I shrug. He hasn't even crossed my mind until this minute. My blood is boiling with rage. I’m angry. This man had been my wife’s boss. He wanted to take her to New York, and she nearly went with him.

“Revenge maybe. I don’t know. You can’t fathom why some people behave the way they do. I’m just angry that you ever worked so closely with him,” as my mouth presses into a hard line.

“We have the contents of his hard drive, too, sir,” adds Barney.

“Yes, I remember. Do you have an address for Mr. Hyde?” I ask sharply. We have to pay him a visit.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Immediately alert Welch,” I order.

“Sure will. I’m also going to scan the city CCTV and see if I can track his movements,” he says. This is one of the reasons I like Barney: if I ask him to get something done, he doesn’t ask if it’s illegal.

“Check what vehicle he owns,” I order. I want to know if he owns the Dodge.

“Sir.”

“Barney can do all this?” Anastasia whispers.

I nod, and smile.

“What was on his hard drive?” she whispers.

She doesn’t need to know that. “Nothing much,” I say, serious immediately.

“Tell me,” she presses.

“No.”

“Was it about you or me?”

“Me,” I say sighing.

“What sort of things? About your lifestyle?” she asks. What the fuck! What a thing to ask when I’m on the phone with the head of my IT department. I narrow my eyes on her in warning and she scowls.

“It’s a 2006 Camaro. I’ll send the license details to Welch, too, sir,” says Barney.

“Good. Let me know where else that fucker has been in my building. And check this image against the one from his SIP personnel file. I want to be sure we have a match,” I say, gazing at Ana skeptically. I want to be over 100% sure. A Dodge chased us, not a Camaro. If it’s not his vehicle, did he borrow? Steal? Does he have an accomplice? Shit!

“Already done, sir. And Mrs. Grey is correct. This is Jack Hyde,” he says.

Anastasia grins in his reaffirmation. I rub her back in response.

“Well done, Mrs. Grey,” I say smiling back at her. “Let me know when you've tracked all his movements at HQ. Also check out any other GEH property he  may have had access to and let the security teams know so that they can make another sweep of all those building.”

“Sir.”

“Thanks, Barney,” I say hanging up.

We have a fucker, and his possible accomplices to catch. There are a lot of things I’d like to do to him, and none of which are to be mentioned in Anastasia’s company.