BOOK IV - Chapter VII - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

BOOK IV

CHAPTER VII

How Sweet it is to be Loved by You

I wake up with the first light of the day. I can never oversleep even if I had an exhausting week. Sunday had passed with resting and a few phone calls from Welch. I only want Anastasia to recover, so I’m not going to allow anything - work or otherwise to get in the way of her healing. But, yesterday she insisted that she wanted to go see her dad at the hospital. I gave into it, and the only outing we made was to the hospital to see Ray. But, to my surprise, she didn’t tell him that she’s pregnant. Why? I won’t dwell on it for the time being, however it left a question mark in my head.

I come in to the kitchen in my pajamas and Mrs. Jones is already bustling for the day.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey. Breakfast sir?” she says looking up at me not surprised to see me not going to work today.

“Yes, Mrs. Jones. Omelet, some fruits and a cup of coffee, please.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies and eyes Taylor who is fidgeting in his place at the entry to my surprise. I’m not surprised that he’s standing in his usual spot, but that he’s fidgeting. Taylor never fidgets. I’m immediately pure attention, my face taut.

“Taylor?” I ask with a quizzical eye, my brow lifting.

“May I have a word with you sir?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply still confused, and direct him to my office. On our way to the office, Sawyer and Ryan see Taylor’s nervous walk, and my confused face. They give each other a concerned look. What the hell is wrong?

I walk into my office, and Taylor closes the door behind us.

I walk around my desk, and take my seat. I look at the desk first where I fucked my wife which feels like a long time ago, and then lift my gaze up to the head of my security who looks like he swallowed a frog and trying to regurgitate it by force if necessary. Clearly he wants to say something, but the words don’t seem to find him. I nervously tap on my desk waiting for him to speak. He clears his throat but the frog he wants to get rid of won’t let him speak.

“What is it? Is it about Hyde?”

“No, sir.”

“The security you’ve assigned to Ana’s dad? Is he doing his job alright?”

“I spoke to the two guys who are watching Mr. Steele. He’s doing good job and being very stealthy; so no, it’s not about Mr. Steele’s security either.

“Did Welch find out who paid Hyde’s bail?” I ask getting impatient. 

“Haven’t heard from him. So, I guess not yet,” he replies absently. Taylor doesn’t do absent. This must be personal.

“Is your daughter and ex-wife okay?” genuinely concerned for him. 

“Sophie’s is wonderful, and the caddy bitch is still flying on her broom. At least that’s the way she sounded when I talked to her this morning, so I’m guessing she’s okay too,” he replies.

“Taylor! You’re making me nervous, and you know I don’t do nervous, especially not after last week. Spit it out man! What is it? Are you leaving us?” I ask crossing my arms. I wouldn’t blame him if he was after last week’s stress, but I would do everything to keep Taylor employed with me. He’s the best employee I got, and with what we went through together all week, I allowed myself to think he’s as close to a friend I have as possible. That would be a great loss for me. Maybe not for him.

“Leaving?” he asks, completely confused. “No, no, of course not. It’s… I don’t know how to put this in words. Just a little dazed.”

“Are you well?”

“Yes, I think so, sir, I am,” he replies and he wrings his hands like Ana does when she’s nervous. I narrow my eyes to see what the deal is my right hand man. I remember Mrs. Jones giving him a look. Is Gail pregnant, too?

“Taylor! Is Gail alright?”

“Yes, and it’s about her… and me. I, uhm…” he says smiling, “I asked Gail to marry me, and she accepted. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m still in a shock that she said yes, considering I’ve asked her for nearly the last four years,” he says astounded. And I thought Ana took too long making me wait a week for her answer. Gail tortured him for four years! Damn! I grin immediately.

“Congratulations, Taylor!” I stand up and shake his hand. “I’m very happy for you both! But does this mean Gail won’t be working for us? Mrs. Grey and I would love her to continue working here. She’s become part of the family. I couldn’t think of someone else taking her place.”

“Oh, no. She wants to continue working,” he says and something crosses his face, a dislike of the idea of someone else at home here, in her place. I suppose it’s better for him to be close to her considering I require his presence in Escala 24/7. It would be too hard for marriage. I also hate change. Both Anastasia and I are very fond of Gail. Getting someone in the midst of our growing family would be hard. But, this is a decision they both have to make. Anastasia likes to work, but if it was up to me, I’d rather have her at home.

“Do you want her to continue working here?” I ask.

“Of course, sir. Gail loves working for you and Mrs. Grey. And of course she’s completely stoked about the baby. I don’t think she’d want to leave Mrs. Grey in someone else’s care. I agree and support her in her decision.”

“Well then, when is the happy day?”

“I don’t know yet, sir. If Gail were to agree, I’d say this afternoon, but we don’t have a date yet. But I do know that we’d like it to be before moving into the new house as well as before your baby is born," he says, and making us a priority in their personal affairs would not have made my radar in the past since I pay him amply, but I find myself more attuned to his kind gesture. After what he had done last week, I'm in his debt. 

“Let me know what you need. Your wedding and honeymoon will be a gift from Mrs. Grey and me, and once you determine the dates, I’ll make sure the jet is available for you to utilize for your honeymoon. I’ll let Andrea to have accounting allocate a budget for your use, and I'll e-mail you the details once it's available,” I say.

“Mr. Grey, that’s…” he says shaking his head unbelieving, “that’s extremely generous of you both. I…uhm…” for once my right hand man is lost for words. “Thank you!” he says finally, and leaves the room without another word, more dazed than he already was. I shake my head, smiling, and happy. When I get to the kitchen, my breakfast is ready. Gail takes my omelet from the warming drawer and pours my coffee.

“Congratulations Gail,” I say finding Mrs. Jones somehow inappropriate since she will soon become Mrs. Taylor. She smiles shyly, and her that smile is completely blissful.

“Thank you, Mr. Grey,” she replies.

“I’m very pleased to hear that we won’t lose you after you become Mrs. Taylor."

“I love working and looking after Mrs. Grey and you, sir. I’m very much looking forward for the baby’s arrival, as well. I couldn’t let someone else to look after Mrs. Grey and the baby when the time comes,” she says smiling, but realizes that I might still have some apprehension over the baby, she quiets down, nodding her head, and returns to her work in the kitchen. I turn my head around after hearing the clicks of Ana’s high heels. Her sexy appearance stops my forkful of omelet in midair. There I find my wife in an indecently short black skirt, and her white silk blouse with frills.  Her black Louboutin pumps are lined with her stockings. She’s wearing light make up, the vibrant blue of her eyes are rimmed with mascara, her full lips are glistening with lip gloss, and her hair is loose hanging down on her back.

Seeing her all hot, but dressed to go to work makes me frown.

“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Going somewhere?”

“Work,” she replies simply, smiling.

She must be trying to be amusing. I snort with her ridiculous reply. “I don’t think so. Dr. Singh said a week off.”

“Christian, I’m not spending the day lounging in bed on my own. So I may as well go to work. Good morning, Gail,” she says, and Mrs. Jones looks amused, trying to hide her smile.

“Mrs. Grey. Would you like some breakfast?” she asks.

“Please.”

“Granola?”

“I’d prefer scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast.” What the hell did she ask? Did my wife just volunteered to eat a hearty meal? My jaw must have dropped, because Mrs. Jones is now grinning widely.

“Very good, Mrs. Grey,” she replies Ana.

“Ana, you are not going to work,” I say as firmly as I can, getting back to my original argument.

“But…” she tries to retort.

“Nope. It’s simple. Don’t argue with me,” I say adamantly giving her a stern look. Anastasia tries to glare at me, but when she registers what I’m wearing, this time it’s her turn to be surprised. I’m still in my pajama bottoms, and my t-shirt from the night before.

“Are you going to work?” she quizzes.

“No,” I reply simply. Anastasia looks around for a clue, confused. “It is Monday, isn’t it?”

I smile at her perplexity. “Last time I looked.”

“Are you playing hooky?” she asks narrowing her eyes.

“I’m not leaving you here on your own to get into trouble. And Dr. Singh said it would be a week before you could go back to work. Remember?” So, I too am off a week with my wife. I left her for one day, and she nearly got killed. I’m not doing that again.

Anastasia sits next to me on the bar stool, and as she sits, she makes sure that her short skirt  is pushed up on her leg. Oh, my wife is frisky. Mrs. Jones places her Twinings tea before her.

“You look good,” I say, and she crosses her legs hitching her skirt even further up. Damn! She’s trying to push my limits.

“Very good. Especially here,” I say noticing that she’s not wearing full stockings, but thigh highs, and my finger traces the bare flesh right above her stockings and below her skirt line. “This skirt is very short,” I murmur, pleased, but still don’t want other men ogle my wife.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” she responds coyly.

My wife’s attempt to be coy makes me suppress a smile as I gaze at her, but her repeated tries to entice me to have sex with her in her bruised up state when God knows I’m desperate to make love to her as well as her attempt to go to work exasperate me.

“Really, Mrs. Grey?” I ask raising my eyebrows. She blushes in response.

“I’m not sure this look is suitable for the workplace,” I murmur.

“Well,” she drawls on the word, “since I’m not going to work, that a moot point.”

“Moot?” I ask when she feeds me one of my favorite words back.

“Moot,” she mouths, making me smirk, I resume eating my omelet. “I have a better idea.”

“You do?”

Yes, I certainly do. I have plans to keep her busy today. I glance at her my eyes darkening.

“We can go see how Elliot’s getting on with the house.”

“I’d love to,” she replies with the prospect of an outing.

“Good,” I say grinning.

“Don’t you have to work?” she asks as an afterthought.

“No. Ros is back from Taiwan. That all went well. Today, everything’s fine,” I say. It’s a good day.

It’s a Beautiful Day – U2

“I thought you were going to Taiwan,” she says accusingly. Why would I do that when my world was falling apart back home? I snort in response.

“Ana, you were in the hospital.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah—oh. So today I’m spending some quality time with my wife,” I say. Taking a sip of my coffee, I smack my lips together. Simple comfort.

“Quality time?” Anastasia asks her eyes are wide, hopeful for a different kind of quality. Her hopeful demeanor doesn’t even escape Mrs. Jones which I casually disregard. She smiles at Anastasia’s remark as she places a plateful of scrambled eggs before her.

I can’t help but smirk. “Quality time,” I confirm, nodding.

Her eggs smell delicious, and before she can utter another word, she turns to her food and closing her eyes she inhales deeply and then dives into the eggs with such an appetite, you would think she just came out of a famine. I just love watching her eat.

“It’s good to see you eat,” I murmur. Then I stand up from my seat and lean down to kiss her hair. “I’m going to shower,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen with renewed hope. Turning to me with a mouthful of food, “Uhm… can I come and scrub your back?” she mumbles.

“No. Eat,” I order. As I leave the breakfast bar, I pull the hem of my t-shirt and tug it off my body. I can feel my wife’s scorching gaze behind me. I can’t have sex with her right now, but I can tease her. When I do have her again, I know we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other. That means we need to wait until she's healed.

I quickly stick my head into Taylor’s study on the way.

“Taylor, have Gail prepare a picnic basket for us, discreetly. I’m going to take Mrs. Grey for a picnic at the big house. I’ll be taking the R8. Put it in the trunk.”

“Certainly, sir,” he says, giving me a rare smile having recovered from his earlier daze.

I take my time in the shower to give Anastasia time to finish her food. After the shower, I put on my white linen shirt and jeans, and put my pinstripe jacket on top. When I come out to the living room, Anastasia has finished her breakfast.

“Are you ready?” I ask her noticing she put on a denim jacket and switched her heels with flats. 

“Yes,” she replies.

I look at Taylor; he gives me an imperceptible nod.

“I thought we’d visit Ray first,” I say because I want to spend a good part of the afternoon at the big house.

“Oh, yes. I’d love to see Ray,” she says cheerfully. Maybe today she’ll tell him about the baby. I’m curious to see what she would say.

When we arrive at the hospital, Ray is accompanied by Jose Rodriguez, Sr. watching a soccer game on the new plasma TV I got for him. I thought if he’s going to remain in the hospital for some time, he can at least have better TV since he has no other entertainment. I’m pleased to see that he’s enjoying it. It doesn’t escape Anastasia’s attention and her eyes shine, completely happy. What makes her happy, makes me doubly joyful.

After greeting and shaking both Ray’s and Mr. Rodriguez’s hand, I pull up a chair and sit to watch my wife interact with the two of them.

“I’m so happy to see some color in your face. You are radiant!” remarks her father as she hugs him. Ana blushes, and thanks her father.

We stay with them nearly half an hour, but I notice that Ana doesn’t tell her father that we’re expecting a baby. Her reticence makes me even more curious. Is she concerned in any way that I don’t want our baby? If that’s what she’s thinking, she didn’t give any indication to that thought. It’s not that I am no longer scared or worried. Because I am. What if I suck at this fatherhood, and won’t be the great father Ana thinks I will be? I am determined to try very hard and work at it. Having Ana’s and Junior’s lives in danger changed something in me. Something clicked in my mind and I finally fully realized that this is my baby! Instead of being an undesired condition, he is now a part of us. Ours: Simple as that... 

That little person safely tucked inside my wife womb is someone who will irrefutably show the world that he’s the product of the love and intense passion Anastasia and I have for each other, and irrefutable proof that his mother is undoubtedly my woman. The thought oddly relaxes me, and I smile at Anastasia when she turns to look at me.  

When we leave Ray and Mr. Rodriguez to themselves, they look happy to get back to what’s left of their soccer game. As we close the door behind us, Mr. Rodriguez fills Ray in with what he’s missed.

I take Anastasia’s hand and lead her to our car. Having spent part of last week here in the hospital worried sick for my wife, I’m happy to leave the hospital parking lot. I drive north on the freeway feeling free as a bird today. I’m with my wife driving to our future home. I can feel her gaze drinking me in; desirous and hungry. Turning to glance at her, I grasp her leg above her knee; gently and sensually stroke her leg. A sharp intake of breath is caught on her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t change,” I say, liking the easy access to her legs, keeping my hand above her leg, enjoying our connection. If I can’t have her, I have to have this link. I need it. She puts her hand above mine.

“Are you going to continue to tease me?”

“Maybe,” I say giving her a crooked smile.

“Why?”

“Because I can,” I respond grinning, completely happy. She’s hot and bothered, and somehow it’s sexy as hell.

I move my finger up to her thighs teasingly.

“Two can play at that game,” she whispers. She just upped the stakes; my favorite game. I move my fingers even higher up on her thigh.

“Bring it on, Mrs. Grey,” I grin ear to ear.

She narrows her eyes, and huffs her breath through her nose. Gingerly picking up my hand, she puts it back on my knee. “Well, Mr. Grey, you can keep your hands to yourself.”

I smirk at her frustration. “As you wish, Mrs. Grey.”

She looks at me uncertain, realizing she may not get her way after all.  If she only knew that the one thing that’s restraining me from pulling over and having my way with her is the knowledge that she is still bruised up.

The rest of the drive to our new home is relatively quiet. When I reach the driveway turning into our house, I stop at the gate keypad, and punch in the gate code. The wrought iron ornate white gate swings open. A few seconds after I drive up the road, I can hear the gate closing behind us. The scenery is nearly surreal. The road is tree lined with the end of summer and early fall colors with a blend of green, yellow, and burnished copper. The grass in our meadow is also turning gold, though we can still green with the dotted wildflowers in it. I have to remember to have evergreen grass put before we move in. Though I don’t know how it would handle Seattle winters. I just realized that I don’t have much domestic skills. Oh fuck it! I have hire a groundskeeper. As we approach closer to the Sound, we can both smell the briny salty bite of the sea air. We can even hear the waves lapping at the shore.

Anastasia looks excited and tranquil at the same time. Once I turn the curve on our private road, the big house comes into view with by several of my brother’s company trucks emblazoned with GREY CONSTRUCTION parked in the front. The scaffolding is surrounding the house, and numerous construction workers in hard hats are busy working either on the scaffolds or on the roof. I have a giddy excitement bubbling inside me. This shell of a house will soon be accommodating my family: My wife and child. The busy activity around our home shows that soon we can live here. By Christmas, Elliot said. I have to see the progress inside to believe that he can make the deadline. But the idea of spending our very first Christmas in the new house is completely thrilling!

I pull the R8 outside the portico and turn off the engine.

“Let’s go find Elliot,” I say as I extend my hand out to her.

“Is he here?”

“I hope so. I’m paying him enough.”

She snorts at my expression, and I grin in response.

We hear my brother’s voice calling out to me. “Yo, Bro!” We look around to see him and his shouts at me again.

“Up here!” He’s up on the roof waving down at us, and grinning ear to ear. “About time we say you here. Stay where you are. I’ll be right down,” he says teasingly. Anastasia looks up to me quizzically, and I shrug. That’s my brother, what can I say? And he appears at the door in a few minutes. He greets me with a big smile, saying “Hey, bro!” and shakes my hand.  

“And how are you, little lady?” he turns to my wife, picking her up and swinging her around. For fuck’s sake! She’s got bruised ribs! I frown at Elliot who ignores me studiously.

“Better, thanks,” Anastasia giggles breathlessly.

“Let’s head over the site office. You’ll need one of these,” he tells us tapping his hard hat. He takes us to the site office trailer. It’s an all steel building which looks like designed to withstand the rigors of a busy construction site with high security and anti-vandal features. We take the four steps leading into his mobile office. The door has three signs on it. “Construction Work in Progress,” “All Visitors Must Report to the Site Office” and “Site Office”. There is a desk manned by a woman in a sturdy construction outfit, and tattoos up to her right shoulder, and muscles seldom seen on a woman. Her hair is in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She looks up as we enter.

“Hi Boss!” she greets Elliot, and gives us Anastasia and I a smile.

“Hey Donna! This is my brother Christian, and his wife Ana!” he introduces us.

“Ah, the boss’s boss!” she grins. “What can I do you for?” she asks in a no-nonsense manner as she extends her hand to shake Ana’s hand first then mine.

“We need couple of hard hats,” Elliot replies.

“Sure, boss,” she says and going to a metal cabinet, she retrieves two hats and brings them back handing each of us one. After thanking her, we notice a big blueprint of our house on the wall. Anastasia smiles and holds my hand as we walk out.

Elliot takes us through the front entry and showing us the interior which is now shell, a skeleton of what is to become. Some of the original walls have been removed to allocate space for a larger, more open space, and some new walls have been built which are still in studs. The floor is covered with what looks like burlap. Elliot takes a note of my attention and explains.

“Yes, it’s burlap. Well, technically this particular one is burlene, actually. It helps the concrete cure in the bottom, and ecologically sustainable. We tried to go green all the way wherever possible, bro!” he says proudly. Some of the walls are covered in plastic sheets, and sectioned out. There are quite a few construction workers, both men and women working around. Elliot has a copy of the blue print, and shows us different parts of the house. Ana’s eyes brighten when she sees the stone staircase with the iron balustrade still in place draped in white dustsheets.

When we walk into the Great Room which will become our main living area, Anastasia’s eyes brighten. The back wall into the patio has already been removed to make way for the glass wall, and the new patio construction is also in progress. But the most magnificent view isn’t the construction; it’s the view of the Sound. This is what my wife fell in love with, and this is the view what we wanted to wake up to every morning.

“Now that I’m down here, I can really appreciate the view you have here, Christian. When we’re busy in various parts, we can’t sit back and enjoy the view,” says Elliot holding his hard hat up with one hand, then swipes the sweat off with the sleeve of his other arm, the he puts his hat back on.

“Yes, we love the view,” I respond looking at Anastasia.

“Gia has done well with this design,” Ana agrees gesturing the missing wall, looking at the view. Elliot explains us how long the construction will take in each phase, professionally, and patiently.

“All in all, we are going to work hard to finish your home so you can be in it right before Christmas.”

“I’m not sure. There seem to be a lot to accomplish. Christmas sounds a little optimistic.”

“It is an estimated time frame, Christian. But we have done several project this scale, even bigger. I have never missed a deadline. I have tens of crew members working each day in two shifts. I’m pretty confident that we can finish it by the date I’m giving you. We can do it, bro. Make sure you reserve your fifteen foot Christmas tree. They’re not easy to come by,” he says smiling confidently.

“Oh, really? You can get us in by Christmas, Elliot?” Anastasia asks clearly excited having to spend the Christmas overlooking the Sound. Elliot nods.

“You just upped the stakes. You better deliver, bro,” I say arching my eyebrows. I wouldn't want to disappoint Anastasia.

“Don’t worry about that. Let me now show you your new kitchen,” he says and shows where everything else will go, though the kitchen too is a shell of its upcoming glory.

“That concludes our tour. I’ll leave you two to roam. But be careful. This is a building site,” he reminds us.

“Sure. Thanks, Elliot,” I murmur in response, and take Anastasia’s hand. “Happy?” I ask searching her face after my brother leaves to do his job. Anastasia gazes the empty shell of what will become our kitchen. She’s thinking, but her eyes are glinting with joy.

“Very. I love it. You?” she asks. When she’s happy, I’m happier. Why wouldn’t I be? She’s my whole world.

“Ditto,” I reply, grinning.

“Good. I was thinking of the pepper pictures in here.”

I nod. The art acquisitions from our honeymoon in France. “I want to put Jose’s portraits of you in this house. You need to decide where they should go.”

She blushes, clearly still apprehensive of looking at her own beauty. “Somewhere I won’t see them often.”

“Don’t be like that,” I admonish her as my thumb brushes her bottom lip. I have a gorgeous wife, and those are amazing pictures of her. I want to look at her at all times. “They’re my favorite pictures. I love the one in my office.”

“I have no idea why,” she murmurs her response and kisses the pad of my thumb as she captures it with her lips. This simple act is felt all the way at the tip of my cock. It’s like waking up a hungry beast to devour everything in sight.

“Worse things to do than look at your beautiful smiling face all day. Hungry?” I ask.

“Hungry for what?” she whispers lasciviously.

It’s not enough that she has woken up my starving libido, but her desire of me makes me completely want to jump her here. My gaze darkens as I smirk at her. Control, Grey, control. Breathe, in, out, in, out…

“Food, Mrs. Grey,” I response, my voice husky, and plant a soft kiss on her lips.

She pouts taunting me and sighs. Remembering her other hunger…for food, for a change. “Yes. These days I’m always hungry.”

“The three of us can have a picnic.”

“Three of us?” she asks cocking her head to the side curiously, like I would. “Is someone joining us?”

“In about seven or eight months,” I remind her of our baby. She grins at my acknowledgement of the baby.

“I thought you might like to eat al fresco.”

“In the meadow?” she asks hopefully.

I nod. She beams completely overjoyed.

“Sure!”

“This will be a great place to raise a family,” I murmur as I gaze down at my wife. I spread my fingers over her belly. This is a wonder. There is a person inside her who is a part of me, and part of my wife. A representation of us; of our unity. Anastasia holds her breath, and puts her hand over mine.

“It’s hard to believe,” I whisper in wonder.

“I know. Oh… here, I have evidence. A picture.”

What sort of picture? “You do? Baby’s first smile?” I ask. I know nothing about pregnancies or babies.

She digs in her wallet and pulls out an ultrasound picture.

“See?”

I take and look at the black, white and gray-scale image for long seconds, trying to find a baby in it. Then right there, a tiny person size of a kidney bean is represented on the image. That’s going to be my child.

“Oh…Blip. Yeah, I see,” I murmur, marveled that my wife and created this new life. A very tiny new life.

“Your child,” Anastasia whispers.

“Our child,” I correct her. Ours.

“First of many,” she whispers. What? Did I hear her correctly?

“Many?” my eyes widen with panic. I am barely getting used to the idea of having one child. Many, is an undefined number which I can’t handle. A definitive number such as one had been difficult to digest. I can’t think of having ‘many’ children right now. 

“At least two,” she counters her original offer of ‘many’.

“Two?” I say, testing the validity of the word in my mouth. Still sour; still hard to handle. “Can we just take this one child at a time?”

“Sure,” she acquiesces, grinning. Don’t torture me on a good day, baby! We finally manage to walk outside hand in hand. A warm fall afternoon greet us. The sights, scents and sounds of the end of summer are inviting and alluring.

“When are you going to tell your folks?” I ask still curious why she’s holding the information back from them. Clearly, it isn’t because she doesn’t want the baby. If it was up to her, she’d have more children.

“Soon,” she murmurs absently. “I thought about telling Ray this morning, but Mr. Rodriguez was there,” she replies shrugging, also answering my unspoken question.

I get to the R8 and open the hood. I take the wicker picnic basket and the tartan blanket we have purchased in London. I knew it would come handy.

“Come,” I say, as I take the basket and the blanket in one hand, and I hold my other hand for my wife. We walk to the meadow hand in hand.

When we come to a spot far from the construction site and the prying eyes, close to the Sound, I’m satisfied with the location, and spread the blanket. I hold my hand for Ana to walk onto the blanket. Then I take out the spread Mrs. Jones soon to be Mrs. Taylor prepared. Anastasia walks on the blanket after ridding herself off the flats and lies down as she watches me put the food neatly in their containers for easy access. I kick my shoes and socks off and sit by my wife; my knees raised my arms are on my knees. I can’t get enough of Anastasia, the person who contains my entire universe. To think that I almost lost her constricts my heart.

The breeze coming from the sound sways the tall golden and green grass, making me feel like we are in our own provincial retreat, our own unique paradise. And of course my phone buzzes to get me out of my reveries.

“Mr. Grey, I’m sorry to disturb you on your day off...” starts Ros.

“No, you’re not, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me,” I say.

“Well, you got me there. No, I guess I’m not. But, there’s an important reason I’m calling you about. I might have to call you again with my apologies, sir.”

“Ok, what’s up?”

“Initial deposits went through to Taiwan. All is looking good. We need to start the payroll base. Do you want me to transfer the entire amount to the bank, or for the first quarter?”

“Well that depends on two things. The interest rate of the Taiwanese bank compared to what we have with our current bank here, and the tax implications for both the U.S. and Taiwan. Have Warren call me with the numbers, and comparisons.”

“Alright! I’m on it! Have a good day off, boss,” she says and hangs up. I put Anastasia’s head on my lap and slowly feed her with the delicious sandwiches Mrs. Jones packed for us.

“Something to drink, baby?” I ask.

“Wine?”

“Try again… I have juice and water.”

“Juice please,” she says. I hand her a bottle of juice after opening the top for her. She takes it with a smile. My phone buzzes again, and this time Warren calling me to relay the numbers. Overall, there’s a small percentage of difference in where we keep the money, but Taiwan looks a little more profitable.

Anastasia feels warm after having eaten, and remaining close to my body. She sits up and discards her jacket. I follow suit and take mine off, putting it over hers. Just as I reach for a strawberry, my phone buzzes again.

“Hi again, Mr. Grey. Warren said he talked to you. I have also just gone over his assessments. I will cut to the chase, and recommend that we move ½ of the payroll to Taiwan. That will give us a six months assessment how it will be handled, and what returns it will generate, and the other half can stay here so we can do a comparison after the six months point. What do you say?”

“Sure, Ros, go for it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I agree with your assessment.”

“Uhm, okay,” she says confused about my easy acquiescence. I hang up, turning my attention back to my wife.

“Where were we?” I say and feed her another strawberry. She slowly sucks it, and then takes a bite chewing it without taking her eyes off me. My gaze darkens with wanton desire for her.

“Tasty?” I ask in a whisper.

“Very.”

“Had enough?”

“Of strawberries, yes.”

My breath hisses through my teeth as voracity rises in me in leaps and bounds. A rampant sudden burst of lust covers me like a second skin, glistening my eyes, and I grin at my wife’s reciprocity. “Mrs. Jones packs a mighty fine picnic,” I say.

“That she does,” Ana whispers. The look in her eyes, the way she wants me, not just with lust but with love, awes me. I shift in my place suddenly and lie down beside her then rest my head on her belly. Right here is my world represented in my woman and our child. I close my eyes and listen her soft breathing, and her beating heart. Her fingers lace in my hair, caressing me; making me feel cherished. And the moment is broken by another buzz from my Blackberry. I give a heavy sigh, and scowl at the screen of my phone. Checking the name I realize it’s Welch. I spoke to him on Sunday. He wouldn’t be calling me if he didn’t have important news. Fuck! I have to take it. I roll my eyes, and answer.

“Welch,” I snap. He doesn’t dally around, getting right to the point.

“We have identified the bail poster,” he starts. My entire body goes rigid. I hold my breath.

“It’s Mr. Lincoln, the CEO of Lincoln Timber. My men are currently watching his every move. The fucker is so devious; he can kick the devil in the ass with his own hind legs! He put so much thought and effort in getting Hyde out on bail. I have a lot to tell you. Are you free to talk, sir?”

“No.”

“Alright. Do you want us to continue keeping an eye on the bastard?” he says without any emotion.

“24/7…”

“As you wish, Mr. Grey.” I don’t want to say much in front of Anastasia. I will have a field day tomorrow. Roger Fucking Lincoln tried to fuck me over by aiding a criminal who was arrested for breaking and entering into my home and attempted kidnapping of my wife which resulted kidnapping of my sister and my wife and near death of my family. He knowingly tried to destroy me by freeing someone who attempted to kill me, tried to harm my family. I will serve his own balls in a platter, emasculate him in front of his entire company. I look at my wife who is curiously watching me. A cool, chilling smile crosses my face with near satisfaction of what I am about to do to him. A visible shudder runs through Anastasia, her eyes wide, she continues to watch me. I take my Blackberry out and speed dial Ros.

“Sir?” she answers the phone.

“Ros, how much stock do we own in Lincoln Timber?” I ask.

“As of last week 78%, sir.” She’s like a walking ledger with photographic memory. Check mate for Roger Lincoln! I kneel up immediately. This is better than what I thought.

“So, consolidate the shares into GEH, then fire the board…”

“Fire the board?” she asks shocked, not sure if she heard me right.

“Yes, the board. Except the CEO…”

“Are you out of your mind? That’s twelve people, not including the CEO!”

“I don’t give a fuck!” I shout back.

“Christian, how much thought did you put into this? We might get twelve different lawsuits! They might claim the fire is not clear cut, claiming that it’s a retaliation of some sort,” she retorts back.

“I hear you, just do it!” I say. I have had all my ducks in a row before I have made this decision. In business, it’s money that talks. I know what I’m going to do with his company.

“Fine! Generally you'd like to do the honor with such firings. But, per your orders, I’ll do it today, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll call an emergency meeting of the board members and announce their departure.”

“Keep me informed,” I say hanging up, I find my wife’s bewildered gaze looking at me. I look at her impassively for a minute until I compose myself. I don’t want my anger blow up on my wife. I count in my head until I calm down. Once I give out a soft exhale, Anastasia speaks.

“What happened?”

“Linc,” I murmur.

“Linc? Elena’s ex?”

“The same. He’s the one who posted Hyde’s bail.” Her jaw simply drops open in astonishment. Our worlds nearly collapsed, almost fucking ended because Lincoln wanted to pursue his revenge on me! He took his due on Elena, but she didn’t press charges. But that was her choice. And now that I have a family, he’s going after all those I love to hurt them; going as far as collaborating with Hyde who repeatedly tried to harm us! My mouth is pressed into a firm line in anger. I know there's more to what meets the eye.

“Well… he’ll look like an idiot,” Anastasia murmurs, completely stunned. “I mean, Hyde committed another crime while out on bail.”

My wife is the queen of understatements. If she only knew. What she had gone through broke her physically and emotionally. I could never, ever allow these fuckers reach her in any shape or form; not even the news of them. Anything about them will harm her. Not to mention she’s carrying our baby. I can’t ever let her know the extent of what had transpired, not if it's going to harm her. From what Welch had indicated, there’s more even I don’t know, yet. But all the puzzle pieces are falling into their places.  

I narrow my eyes and smirk. You want revenge, Linc? Bring it on: I’ll give you revenge even you can’t dream up. “”Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey,” I say satisfied with my decision. Keep her safe. Keep both of them safe.

“What did you just do?” she asks, kneeling before me, her face looking up to me.

“I fucked him over.”

Ana’s face is shocked. “Uhm… that seems a little impulsive,” she murmurs. Impulsive? Thanks to Lincoln, Hyde was freed. My sister was given chloroform, horse tranquilizer and when the needle broke he gave her a dose of date rape drugs. Then he beat the shit out of my wife, bent on killing her. He had all the intention of killing both Mia and Anastasia and then skipping the country. All with the courtesy of Roger Lincoln because the fucker hates me for fucking his wife. And I’m impulsive? No, I’m in a punishing mood. Linc wants to dominate me in his fucking devious ways? Let’s see who can dominate who.

“I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy,” I reply calmly.

“I’m aware of that.”

I knew Lincoln might eventually come after me. I’ve seen results of his unrestrained anger. His purpose was to push Elena so far that she would file a complaint and giving him an opportunity to drag my name, my family’s name down in the mud, and making Elena into a child molester thereby sending her to jail as well. Even if his revenge came at the cost of going to jail himself. When it comes to revenge, I already know that Lincoln doesn't hesitate, and he didn’t have boundaries when it came to his anger. I had a feeling he might come after me someday, but I never had I assumed that he could go as far to harm my family this way.

My eyes are narrowed, and my lips thinned with the thoughts of what Lincoln had almost accomplished in his bid to inflict me and my loved ones harm. He did it in such a way that he couldn’t be directly accused. I can't leave this unpunished.

“I’ve had this plan in my back pocket for a while,” I say acerbically.

“Oh?” she asks frowning.

I have to think what I can let her know. It’s not because I don’t want to share the details of my past. I have to give her a glimmer of the kind of man Lincoln is. I hate bringing all this shit to the surface, but she needs to know this one. I finally take a deep breath to speak.

“Several years back, when I was twenty-one, Lincoln beat his wife to a pulp. He broke her jaw, her left arm, and four of her ribs because she was fucking me.” My gaze hardens like rocks. I have a feeling that Lincoln took great pleasure in the knowledge that my wife too was beaten up an inch of her life, although I know that he would have been better satisfied if she and my sister were also fucked and killed. The thought makes my entire body rigid.

“And now I learn he posted bail for a man who tried to kill me, kidnapped my sister, and fractured my wife’s skull. I’ve had enough. I think it’s payback time.”

Anastasia turns ashen and shudders. “Fair point well made, Mr. Grey,” she whispers.

It is better that she thinks of me as a hard man than a husband who is incapable of defending and protecting his family.

“Ana, this is what I do. I’m not usually motivated by revenge, but I cannot let him get away with this. What he did to Elena… well, she should have pressed charges, but she didn’t. That was her prerogative.

“But he’s seriously crossed the line with Hyde. Linc’s made this personal by going after my family. I’m going to crush him, break up his company right under his nose, and sell the pieces to the highest bidder. I’m going to bankrupt him.”

Anastasia’s silent as her eyes widen.

“Besides, we’ll make good money out of the deal,” I say, smirking.

Anastasia continues to stare into my eyes that are burning with rage. She looks quite scared. Oh, no! I don’t want to scare her. I need to protect her; protect my family.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I whisper.

“You didn’t,” she says. But Anastasia is a hopeless liar. She lies so infrequently; she can’t even make it sound truthful. I raise my eyebrow, questioningly.

“You just took me by surprise,” she whispers, then swallows.

I lean in and brush my lips, molding them gently over hers. “I will do anything to keep you safe. Keep my family safe. Keep this little one safe,” I murmur and splay my fingers over her belly, and gently caress it.

Anastasia’s breathe hitches. Our touch has the usual electric tingle traveling through my body, awakening every cell, screaming for my wife. I gaze down at her and see that she and I are connected. She feels what I’m feeling. Lust, unrestrained carnal desire erupts, darkening my eyes. Tips of my fingers brush against her sex. I’m fucking hard for her now. Her hands reach out to my head unbelievably fast grasping me, pulling me down, and as her fingers tangle into my hair, her lips find mine, tugging hard, scraping, sucking and biting. Her invasion of my mouth is so sudden, she makes me gasp, and groan with full charge of sexual desire. I kiss her back with all I’ve got. My lips cover her lower lip and I suck it with full force, and then lick her top lip as my tongue darts into her mouth, reacquainting each other with our mouths, tongues, lips, taste, breath, and our unique brand of sexual charge.

“Ana,” I breathe her name, completely bewitched by her. My hand travels up her backside and to the hem of her skirt. Ana’s hands immediately dart to my shirt, trying to unbutton it, and completely out of practice.

“Whoa! Ana… stop!” I say pulling back. What was I thinking? She’s not well. My jaws clenched, I grasp her hands holding them away from me.

“No!” she protests, leaning up to clamp on my lower lip with her teeth, and tugs it. “No,” she murmurs again, gazing up at me. Then letting go of my lip, “I want you,” she utters with such a yearning, she’s bringing all my defenses down.

I inhale sharply. I want her desperately. It’s been days, feels like years. Here’s the woman I love with everything I got, and she wants me. Desires me, and I fucking can’t say yes, because I’m too afraid I’ll hurt her. She’s still bruised up.

“Please, I need you,” she begs. Her gaze is pleading, her body is positioned in such a way that it’s ready to merge with me; mold into me. My body is missing her, desperately. I groan, and give up. Fuck it! I lean down, and my lips find her, shaping, molding, tasting, massaging, giving and taking. We’re meant for this; created for each other. I hold her head with one hand gently as to not  to jostle her while my right hand skims down her body to her waist, and I ease her onto her back on the blanket and stretch beside her without contact with her lips.

I pull back, and hover over my wife, gazing down at her as if I’ve not seen her in so many years. This is my second chance with her. She’s given back to me after nearly dying on me. “You are so beautiful, Mrs. Grey.”

She smiles, and her hands reach up to my face and caress me. “So are you, Mr. Grey. Inside and out.”

I frown. How could she think that after all that happened?

“Don’t frown. You are to me, even when you’re angry,” she whispers.

Shit! I’m so fucking in love with her! I groan, and my mouth finds hers again, pushing her into the soft grass under the blanket.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper and my teeth graze her jaw. This is my soul shouting, because if I speak any louder, it’d be tears. She fills me up with emotions that I’ve never had before, charging my body, pulling me to her; making me want to never let go of her.

“I’ve missed you, too. Oh, Christian,” she whispers clutching her hand into my hair the other hand hold onto my shoulder.

My lips move down to her throat in a trail of kisses as my fingers unbutton her blouse rapidly and expertly. When I undo the last button, I tug her blouse apart, kissing the soft mounds of her breast under her bra. Fuck me! I groan a guttural sound appreciatively, ever nerve on my body alert. I can feel her breast enlarging already; her nipples are longer and firmer than before. Not extremely apparent, but I can feel the subtle changes in my wife’s body which is a wonder all in itself.

“Your body’s changing,” I whisper in awe. My thumb teases her nipple and soon it’s erect, straining through her bra. “I like,” I breathe. My trace the line between the swell of her breast and her bra, teasing and enthralling her. Grasping her bra cup between my teeth, I pull it down, and her breast springs forward. I nuzzle her nipple with my nose which immediately puckers, and goose bumps form around her areola as a spring breeze rushes around us. I take it into the wet warmth of my mouth, and suck it long and hard.

“Ah!” she groans, than inhales sharply as I shift, making her wince. Her bruised ribs are hurting her. Fuck!

“Ana!” I cry out, glaring down at her. I want her desperately, but I’m too concerned that I’ll hurt her. “This is what I’m talking about. Your lack of self-preservation. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No! Don’t stop,” she whimpers. How can I fucking say no to her, deny her of something she wants from me, when I want to give her everything? But sex might hurt her. Her gaze is desperate with need, as if I’m the food her soul needs. What the fuck do I do? Wait, she can sit on me; ride me in her own pace.

“Here,” I say moving quickly, and roll over and make her sit astride me. Her sinfully short skirt is bunched up around her hips. Her bare thighs right above the thigh high stockings are mouthwatering.

“There. That’s better, and I can enjoy the view,” I say as my finger reaches up to free her other breast. As I cup both my hands over the swell of her breasts, she throws her head back to push them further into my grasp. My fingers deftly latch onto her nipples, teasing, tugging, and kneading them until she can no longer hold her pleasure in and shouts out. The sound of her pleasure is my undoing. I sit up immediately, and suddenly we are nose to nose; my ravenous eyes are on her. I kiss her while my fingers are still teasing her nipples. Her fingers scramble to my shirt, undoing the buttons, her fingers rush to unbuckle all thumbs in her haste as if any moment I’m going to stop her and she’s in a race to finish the task.

“Hey…” I say gently holding her head and pull back to look at her. “There’s no rush. Take it slow. I want to savor you.”

“Christian, it’s been so long,” she responds panting.

“Slow,” I whisper my command. She’s still anxious. I kiss the right corner of her mouth. “Slow,” I breathe, then kiss the left corner of her mouth. “Slow, baby.” I tug her bottom lip with my teeth. “Let’s take this slow.” I unleash my fingers into her hair, and keep her in place, taking possession of her mouth, gently calming her, tasting, savoring, soliciting, and arousing her.

Her hands gently caress my face. Her fingers hesitantly move down to my chin and to my throat, and finally to my buttons, slowly this time as I kiss her. When she’s done undoing the last button, she pulls my shirt apart, and her fingers start trailing across my chest. Finally calming down, she gently pushes me down until she’s spread over me. She then sits up and looks down at me. My erection is seeking release, and feeling the ridges of my cock, she is squirming on top. She holds her fingers, and gently traces them across my lips, then trailing down to my throat, over my Adam’s apple, and down to my clavicle. Leaning down, she follows on the trail of her fingers. Grazing my jaw with her teeth, and kissing my throat. I have missed her touch. This is simply heaven.

“Ah…” I groan as I tilt my head back, giving her easier access to my throat. My mouth relaxes and opens in quiet devotion of her. I am fucking mesmerized, aroused beyond belief. Her tongue trails down my sternum, teasing and trailing my chest hair. She inhales me in. She leans further down and kisses one of my scars, then another. I have to have her. She wants me, I fucking want her. I grasp her hips, and her fingers halt their trail on my chest. She gazes down at me. My breathing is rapid and harsh as if I ran a marathon.

“You want this? Here?” I breathe. Because, I am too in love with her and too lustful for her to stop once I start.

“Yes,” she murmurs. When her lips and tongue graze across my chest to my nipple, my fucking rocket lifts off. She captures my nipple with her mouth and pulls and rolls it with her teeth. This gentle pain and pleasure is enough to drive me insane.

“Oh, Ana,” I whisper. Circling her waist, I lift her, and tug at my button and fly springing my erection. I sit her back down, just teasingly far enough from my cock. Then I run my hands above her thigh highs right where her milky flesh start, teasing, running small circles at the top, and slowly making my way over to her sex, and touch her on her clitoris.

“I hope you’re not too attached to your underwear,” I murmur with wild eyes, nearly delirious with my desire for my wife. I trace the elastic along her belly, then slide inside, teasing her sex. Then I pull back and caress her over the delicate material, finally pushing my thumb through, breaking her delicate panties. My hands are splayed out on her thighs, and my thumb brushes against her sex again. When I flex my hips, my cock rubs against her sex. She’s soaking.

“I can feel how wet you are,” I whisper with carnal appreciation. I don’t want to do this fast. I will take my time and savor her. Immediately sitting up, I hold her waist and we are nose to nose once again. I rub my nose over hers and inhale her scent.

“We’re going to take this slow, Mrs. Grey. I want to feel all of you,” I instruct her.  I lift her up, and ever so slowly, ease and lower her onto my ravenous cock. When I sit her back onto my fully hardened erection, she pushes down against me as if she’s trying to reach the ground through my cock as I try to reach the deepest corners of her sex.

“Ah!” she moans almost incoherently, and clasps my arms. She tries to lift up, but I stop her. I need to be deeper.

“All of me,” I whisper. She needs to yield me. I tilt her pelvis, and push my cock that last inch to find my favorite, deepest spot I like to fuck inside her, making me feel I conquered her inside out. Anastasia throws her head back, and lets out a pure choked cry pleasure. The sound of her in ecstasy takes me into a different dimension.

“Let me hear you,” I murmur. She tries to move up. “No…don’t move, just feel.”

She opens her eyes, her mouth is frozen in a silent rapture. Looking at her in this state is heaven, pure pleasure. My eyes are fixed on my wife with a licentious stare. I shift, and roll my hips, but making sure she’s fixed in place. She groans. My lips are on her throat, kissing and sucking her gently.

“This is my favorite place. Buried in you,” I murmur.

“Please, move,” she begs.

“Slow, Mrs. Grey.” I flex my hips again, rubbing that deep spot in her sex. She cups my face and kisses me; her kiss becomes an all-consuming fire.

“Love me. Please, Christian,” she begs.

My teeth slide over her jaw, up to her ear. “Go,” I whisper. Lifting her up and down, I make her move. But Anastasia has her own ideas. She pushes me down, and really start moving, riding me, riding my cock hard. I place my hands around her waist, and match her move by move, rhythm by rhythm. The lowering sun is on her back over the Sound.

“Oh, Ana!” I groan. I’m a lucky son of a bitch. My head is back, my mouth open. The moment where I lose myself to pleasure, and lust where I lose my sanity is approaching. I hold her thighs and press over her clit, rubbing over and over again until she shouts my name losing herself; I let go, and give myself over to her completely losing my mind in utter ecstasy. I have desperately missed this.

Anastasia lies against my chest as I cuddle her, cradling her head.  Her hands are splayed over my chest, calming my heart beat down. She kisses and nuzzles me. Relaxed.

“Better?” I whisper. She raises her head. Seeing the satisfied lover look on her face, I grin ear to ear.

“Much. You?” More than satisfied. I feel whole, complete once again.

“I’ve missed you, Mrs. Grey,” I say in serious choked tone. I could have lost her.

“Me, too.”

“No more heroics, eh?”

“No,” she shakes her head fervently.

“You should always talk to me,” I whisper, my heart breaking once again that she didn't tell me what Hyde was doing.

“Back at you, Grey.”

I smirk, knowingly. “Fair point well made. I’ll try.” I kiss her hair.

“I think we’re going to be happy here,” she whispers, and closes her eyes, overjoyed.

“Yep. You, me and … Blip. How do you feel, incidentally?”

“Fine. Relaxed. Happy.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“Yeah, all those things,” I murmur. She looks up at me, trying to assess something. What is she trying to dig?

“What?” I ask.

“You know, you’re very bossy when we have sex.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No. I’m just wondering…you said you missed it.”

Oh shit! She’s asking about that. It’s not who, it’s just what I miss. “Sometimes,” I whisper, stilled, gazing at her.

“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that,” she murmurs, wrapping herself around me.

“I like to play, too,” she murmurs glancing up at me. She amazes me at every turn. I find myself smiling at her shyly.

“You know, I’d really like to test your limits,” I whisper.

“My limits for what?”

“Pleasure.”

“Oh, I think I’d like that,” she beams.

“Well, maybe when we get home, I whisper. If she’s well enough. She nuzzles me again, and I pull her back and cuddle my wife, my world.

Leonard Cohen - I'm Your Man