BOOK IV - Chapter XII - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

CHAPTER XII

Intruder’s Intrusions

“Mr. Grey! Could you hurry back with the shorts and the t-shirt, sir? I need your help!” Gail’s voice brings me back to my senses. I take the first t-shirt and pair of shorts my hands can reach and rush back to the bathroom where Gail is trying to prevent Anastasia from merging with the cold bathroom floor.

I take note of my wife is slumped over the toilet while Mrs. Jones has wrapped her hair over her wrist and holding her head up with her other hand on Ana's waist. When I reach to the toilet, Gail breaks about a foot long toilet paper and wipes Ana’s face, tossing it into the toilet, pulls Ana back and flushes.

“I’ll hold Mrs. Grey, and you put the t-shirt on her, sir,” she directs me. I nod, still upset. Gail holds my wife back, and I quickly dress her with the t-shirt which comes below her hips. I insert each foot into the shorts and pull it up. Then I hold my wife up in my arms; carry her back into our bedroom.

“Ana, baby,” I coax her to talk to me. “Mrs. Jones, can you go see what’s keeping Taylor and the Doctor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m okay, Christian,” breathes Anastasia, barely coming back to her senses. She appears very weak in my arms, nearly ready to pass out again. “It’s just morning sickness. Could you get me some crackers, and club soda? Please?” she asks, her voice is very weak.

“Yes… right, crackers, and…”

“Club soda,” she adds in a soft voice. After carefully depositing my wife onto our bed, I get up to go.

“Christian!”

“Yes?” I turn to her with wary eyes.

“Could you put the trash basket next to me, just in case…” I can only nod in response. I’m tied up in knots inside. This baby is wreaking havoc on her body. I put the trash basket next to her side of the bed. I notice Sawyer hovering by the door outside.

“Sawyer, bring Mrs. Grey some crackers and club soda!” I order.

“Sir,” he replies and disappears.

Anastasia moves in the bed, trying to sit up.

“Ana, for God’s sake, lie down!” I snap at her.

“Christian, I need to go take a shower. I don’t want to be late to work,” she mutters, wobbly even as she sits on the bed.

“No! No! No! You are not going to work today! You know what the doctor said yesterday. You are not allowed to go anywhere until Dr. Greene gets here and examines you.”

“Christian…” she tries to protest. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you about the morning sickness episodes I had. You get too worried. It’s normal. Most pregnant women go through this…” she says and another heaving bout shakes her body. I run to her sides, and lift the empty trash basket just under her head while supporting her with the other hand.

“I don’t care if this is the norm for every woman! I’m not married to every woman. I’m married to you, and responsible for your well-being. And right now, you’re not well,” I murmur decidedly.

Sawyer walks in with a tray full of assorted crackers and a bottle of club soda. “I wasn’t sure what kind she needed,” he says sheepishly.

Mrs. Jones and Taylor come in. I raise a quizzical eyebrow to Taylor.

“She’s on her way. She should be here in the next hour.”

“An hour?” I shout.

“Christian, please…” Ana reprimands me, “my heads is pounding.”

“Yes, sir. I woke her up. She’s going to get ready and drive here,” Taylor whispers his answers as soft enough to not to wake a sleeping baby.

Anastasia reaches the tray Sawyer brought and takes a Saltine cracker with a trembling hand. Worry clouds my eyes. I look up to Mrs. Jones and Sawyer as if they hold the answers to the mysteries of a woman's pregnancy.

“Ana, dear, I’ll go make you a nice chicken broth. It will supplement the electrolytes you’ve lost and you can eat it with your crackers,” Mrs. Jones says as she leaves the room.

“Christian, I should go to work. I have piles of manuscripts to go through. I have three meetings scheduled today, and I’m going to meet one of our authors for a possible release date.”

“Ana,” I try to rein in all my patience. “You have just collapsed in the fucking bathroom because you puked all the contents of your stomach and then some! I’m freaking out here, and you are telling me that you’re going to work. The answer is no!”

“I’ll be okay. This comes at certain times, and by the time I’m ready to go to work, it should subside!” she argues in a trembling voice. Fuck! Even her voice is not strong enough.

I run a frustrated hand over my hair. She takes a sip of the club soda and makes a face. Nibbling on her cracker, she finishes one, and takes another to her lips. Both Taylor and I watch her consume her cracker. She washes it down with another gulp of her club soda from the bottle.

“You need to drink a little more water. You’re too pale,” I murmur. I lean down and place my lips on her forehead taking her temperature. She’s not hot; in fact she’s too cold to my touch. She also has cold beads of sweat covering her eyebrows. Her eyes are too wide; her alabaster skin is too pale, too yellow as if someone drained her of blood.

“I’ll go see what’s keeping Dr. Greene, if you don’t need me now, sir,” says Taylor. I nod. He quickly departs our room nodding Sawyer to come with him.

“I think I should go to work at least after lunch time. Dr. Greene said I could work part time. We were supposed to try the schedule, remember?” she says as she lifts the bottle up to her lips with the slight shake of her hands. She’s still trying to negotiate with me. If only she knew the worry I have in my heart, and the anxiety she’s giving me by consistently trying to do what she wants instead of what is good for her.

“Maybe you can let Roach know that I’ll be in this afternoon. Hannah can reschedule the meetings…” she says. I have to hand it to her persistence, but I’m currently in no mood or desire to give into her capitulations.

“I’ll let Roach know you’re not well, and have Hannah reschedule your meetings with another editor.”

“Another editor?” her head snaps back up.

“Yes, another editor who isn’t pregnant or at the least…” but I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence. Anastasia forcefully puts the bottle down on the side table in such a hurry that it wobbles in its place and finally unable to come to rest it falls sideways, spilling its contents. For a minute I think she’s doing it to be spiteful, but her head is right inside the trash basket where she deposits the crackers and water she just consumed. In the blink of an eye, she drops the basket to the floor collapsing on to the bed face down.

“Anaaa!” I shout, as I try to pull her up into my embrace. What is happening to my wife?

Mrs. Jones rushes in after she hears my lament. “This can’t possibly be normal!” I groan to no one in particular as I pick my wife up into my protective embrace.

“Sometimes, women have these violent episodes of morning sickness, Mr. Grey. It isn’t the norm, but it is unfortunately normal for a small percentage of women,” Gail replies.

“I’m not waiting for the doctor to show up! Get Sawyer or Taylor. We’re driving to the hospital. I’m not going to have a dead wife!” I say rocking Ana back and forth in my arms. Gail’s eyes widen.

A distinct sound of a woman’s heels walking on stone decidedly makes both Gail and I turn our heads in the direction of the door. It’s wide open but the doctor still makes a gesture to knock. She sticks her head into the room with her hair in a damp ponytail. She’s dressed in charcoal cigarette pants, and a cream colored silk shirt with frills.

“No need to go to the hospital until I examine my patient,” she says smiling but firmly. “Lay Mrs. Grey down, Mr. Grey,” she orders with authority putting her doctor’s bag down on the bed. When I don’t put Anastasia down, she lifts her head up, arches her eyebrows, and looks up at me with eyes that say, ‘well, I’m waiting!’ I gently, hesitantly lay my wife down who looks even paler. I notice the nurse with scrubs the last minute.

“This is my nurse, Erica,” she introduces her to us, and without a break in her speech she continues. “Erica, I need you to place the IV stand right here by the bed. Let’s get her hydrated,” she says.

“IV? You’re going to give her IV?” I ask.

“Yes, Mr. Grey. And, I’d like you to give room to my nurse so she can hook Mrs. Grey’s arm on the IV line, if you don’t mind please.”

“I do mind! Can you explain why the IV? What will you be giving to her?”

“Mr. Grey, either I can take ten minutes to explain you while your wife continues to get dehydrated, or I fix the problem, then explain it to you. Which one would you prefer?”

“Fix her!” I say sulkily.

“Thank you.”

The nurse looks up at me with her pupil dilating, her lips part. She looks as if she just forgot what she needs to do. When she falters on her step, Dr. Greene turns to her, looking at her stupefied face trying to get her attention. When she doesn’t, Dr. Greene sighs and reprimands her nurse as well.

“Erica! Mrs. Grey needs your attention. Not, Mr. Grey! IV! Now!” she gives her order in a firm, decided manner.

“Yes, ma’am,” she answers blushing all the way to her ears.  Mrs. Jones quietly slips out of the room.

As the nurse is hooking up the IV line, Dr. Green takes Ana’s temperature, pulse and her blood pressure, recording them on a tablet. She puts the tablet towards the foot of the bed, and busies herself with Anastasia again. My gaze moves onto the contents of my wife’s chart. The words “possible hyperemesis gravidarum,” catches my eyes. What the hell is that? A disease? Her blood pressure is also quite low: 85/50. I take out my Blackberry and enter a search string into Google: “Hyperemesis gravidarum”.

“Hi Mrs. Grey. Welcome back!” I hear the doctor saying. A low groan escapes Ana’s lips. My eyes immediately snap up from my Blackberry’s screen to see my wife.

“Hi. I’m really okay, Dr. Greene,” Anastasia tries to reassure her. “I just had vomited a lot. That’s all,” she says, stealing a look at me.

“Let me decided how well you really are, Mrs. Grey,” Dr. Greene says in her no nonsense voice. “Have you eaten this morning?”

“I woke up with an overwhelming urge to expel everything in my stomach. And had three saline crackers and half a bottle of club soda, but…” her voice goes lower. “I’m afraid, they all vacated my stomach,” she says.

“Was last night the first time you’ve had a violent episode, or have you had them before?”

Anastasia’s eyes drift to my concerned gaze again. She looks at the doctor.

“No,” her voice is a whisper.

“I see. How many times a day?”

“Not a lot…” Anastasia replies evasively.

“I need a number Mrs. Grey.”

“Maybe like once a day… but only recently, and not as bad as this.”

“Are there certain triggers? Certain foods, scents?”

“Cafe Latte, and heavy perfumes or scents…”

“How long have you been feeling dizzy?”

“About a week. Just gotten worse yesterday though!” she adds quickly for my benefit. I stiffen in my place. She said nothing about these to me.

“Along with your dizziness, do you have lightheadedness, blurred vision, fainting?”

“She fainted. Last night and today,” I supply.

Anastasia breathes out an exasperated sigh. “Christian, I was just hungry, and I had expelled everything in my stomach. That’s why. I’m okay. I’m not really sure if I need the IV,” she says lifting her arm up.

“Mrs. Grey, you are dehydrated, and your body is losing electrolytes, vitamins, and fluids. Your blood pressure is dangerously low. You just told me that you are sensitive to odors, and that also may exacerbate some of your symptoms. But, within the last five minutes, you’ve regained your color, and your motor skills steadied. You were shaking earlier. I recommend you to stay at home duration of this week,” she starts saying.

“But, I have meetings, and mountains of work piled up!” Ana protests.

“Mr. Grey, I will emphasize the importance of Mrs. Grey’s care at this stage,” she says turning to me. “I trust that you will remind her, the importance of her care,” she adds.

“Dr. Greene, I’m right here.”

“Yes, Mrs. Grey, I realize that. But you are my patient. I’m not pleased to find you in such a dehydrated state where you are still worrying more about your work than about your own health. I will need both of your cooperation for your care, especially yours, Mrs. Grey. You are the one who is carrying this baby.” Anastasia nods immediately, chagrined.

“How long? How long will I be in bed, and tied to an IV?”

“Once we rehydrate you with this bag, you should be fine. I do however recommend you to have small amounts of food and drink, often. In your particular condition, continuing care is necessary.”

“Is it dangerous to the baby?” I ask in a barely audible voice.

“No, Mr. Grey. Most pregnant women go through morning sickness, though only some experience it is severely as Mrs. Grey does.”

“Can this pose a threat to my wife’s life?” I ask the question that’s been sitting heavy in the back of my mind.

The doctor sighs. Ana’s eyes widen, scared even of my implied question: Is the baby posing a danger to my wife’s life?

“Mr. Grey, this is her first pregnancy. And it is true that she’s having severe morning sickness. But it is going to take its course and it will eventually stop around 12 weeks. But, as bad as it may seem, this is healthy…” she says.

“Healthy? I wouldn’t use that adjective for what she experienced,” I snort in haughty derision.

“It means, Mrs. Grey’s hormones are working. We need to monitor her more often. She needs to stay hydrated, and keep some food down. I’ll prescribe her some medication for nausea, and check on her this evening. If you so desire, we can assign a nurse for her. But, I believe she can manage. She just needs to be kept under observation,” then turning to Anastasia, she adds, “Perhaps, if you stay home this week, it would be better after all, Mrs. Grey,” she says.

Anastasia starts opening her mouth, but thinking better of it, she wisely closes it.

By the time the nurse is taking the IV line off Anastasia’s arm, my wife is looking and feeling better so much so that she looks as if she wasn’t the one puking her guts out.

“Ana, why don’t you lie down for a little longer, and maybe finish the broth Mrs. Jones made for you. I need to have a word with Dr. Greene,” I say.

She looks at me with worried, wide eyes.

“If it’s about my health, you can ask your questions here,” she challenges.

“A husband can still ask private questions, baby,” I respond. The Greene looks from Anastasia to me.

“Erica, why don’t you take the IV stand and wait for me outside?”

“Yes, Dr. Greene,” says Erica, and scuttles out of the room with the IV stand and now the empty IV bag dangling from the hook on top of it. She closes the door behind her.

“Mr. Grey, why don’t you take a seat?” Dr. Greene points to a chair. “Mrs. Grey, I’m sure you both have questions after last night’s and this morning’s episodes. Mr. Grey, you still look very  much shaken. I will answer all your questions as best as I can. I’m sure Mrs. Grey also has questions and concerns since she’s the one who is experiencing the symptoms.” She looks at us both.

“Is the baby hurting my wife?” I ask. My jaw is tight; my lips are thinned into a grim line. My eyes look worried; scared even. Anastasia looks at me shocked.

“Well, Mr. Grey, this is a valid question after you’ve witnessed Mrs. Grey’s severe morning sickness. But this is part of the pregnancy. Quite a few women go through violent episodes as she has experienced.”

“Puking eighteen times in the course of two hours? What if it lasts longer than 12 weeks? This medical source on the web says that it can cause serious maternal and fetal morbidity even maternal and fetal death!” I hiss through my teeth pacing the room.

“Christian…” Ana calls out to me her voice soft and concerned.

“Ana! I need to know!” I say in agony. Then I turn to Doctor Greene, “Is this baby killing my wife?” Fear oozes from every pore. Ana looks at me horrified.

“No, Mr. Grey. The baby is where it should be, tucked inside your wife’s womb properly. We even managed to hear a steady and healthy heartbeat.”

“But, why the fainting? She’s drained of color so fast, I… I panicked. I didn’t know what to do! If I were to protect my wife from another person, or an intruder, I could put myself between her and the offender. But how can I protect her against her own body? Tell me how, Doctor Greene?” I plead.

“Oh, Christian!” Anastasia croons extending her hand out to me, sitting upright in our bed. My traitorous body always responds to her, and I find myself walking towards her immediately without a second thought.

“I’m glad you’re asking the questions that are worrying you Mr. Grey. Every pregnancy carries its own risks. There are women who have had no symptoms; no ailment during pregnancy may end up having a difficult birth, and vice versa. There are no guarantees. This is where you come in. You can protect Mrs. Grey by making sure she’s taking her vitamins, staying hydrated, eating properly, and exercising to later help during birth, and when she has craving, you make sure they’re fulfilled. Her body will adjust.”

I shake my head.

“I need guarantees Doctor Greene! Is this baby killing my wife or not?” I ask, not finding the answer I required from her in the first place, my gaze chards of ice. I can’t take the torment of seeing her hooked into an IV line, or faint daily. It’s ripping me apart inside.

“Christian!” Anastasia shouts in disappointment, pulling her hand out of mine. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Anastasia, your well-being is more important to me than my own life,” I say softly as if talking to a small child.

“No, Mr. Grey, the baby isn’t killing her. But no one can give you any guarantees. This is not business; it’s life. You will have to trust that Mrs. Grey’s body will adjust within the next four weeks. I nod stiffly.

“About my work… I feel up to working. I think I should still try to go to work this afternoon.”

“Absolutely no!” I hiss.

“Christian I should…”

“Do you want to argue about that too, Anastasia?” I ask.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Grey, but I will have to agree with Mr. Grey on that. You need rest. In light of the speed in which you have gotten dehydrated today, it would mean a trip to the emergency room from work quite often. Because we do get busy with the amount of work we have to accomplish and most often pregnant women forget to eat and drink. Besides it would only be counterproductive for the other people working in your company if they have to rush you to hospital's emergency room often. You should only work from your home for the time being until you have mastered over your morning sickness. Doctor’s orders!” she says firmly.

Dr. Greene hands me the prescription for Anastasia and some sample medication for Anastasia’s nausea. She talks to my wife about the importance of resting, hydrating, vitamins, eating and taking proper care of herself until she’s blue in the face. When Doctor Greene tells Ana to indulge when she has cravings, because it’s one time she can get away with it, my wife nods wordlessly as she blushes profusely.

“I’ll walk you out, Dr. Greene,” I say, and lead her out.

As I turn to talk to her, she looks up at me with knowing eyes.

“Before you say it, and regret it later Mr. Grey, I’ll save you the trouble. Mrs. Grey is healthy enough to carry her child to full term. Is it possible that she could have a difficult pregnancy? Yes, very possible. But, we have the latest medical technology, and Mrs. Grey can have all of that at her disposal. I’m the best OBGYN in Seattle and as such, in my eighteen years career, I’ve never lost a patient during pregnancy or birth.”

“But you’re not giving me any guarantees!”

“Mr. Grey, no one can give you that. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time. I assure you that as hard as it may seem to you, this is a natural process. If you’re concerned about Mrs. Grey, why don’t you bring her to your work part of the time to keep an eye on her and that way she could also be leaving the house for a change.”

“Can I do that?”

“Sure, why not? But not today, maybe tomorrow. She seems exhausted today. Let’s see how she feels the rest of the day.”

Taylor leads the doctor out of the foyer. I feel a heavy weight bearing down on me. The kind of worry I feel is hurting me deep into my soul. It’s different than what I felt before when she said she was leaving me, or when I found her nearly lifeless on the cold concrete. And this fear, too, is vastly unwelcome. Because, it’s my wife’s own body that’s hurting her; the same body I’m trying to protect. I feel helpless and tied up in knots inside.

Instead of going back to my bedroom, I walk towards my study. I need a change of pace. Deal with another problem I can resolve. Seeing my grim face on a different note, Taylor follows me.

“Did Welch call you?”

“Yes, sir. I have in fact just got off the phone with him.”

“What’s his conclusion?”

“He thinks Mrs. Lincoln is telling the truth.”

“That’s yet to be seen…” I murmur and dial Welch.

“Mr. Grey,” comes his deep voice though the speaker of my Blackberry.

“Tell me what you have discovered after you interviewed Mrs. Lincoln…”

“She repeated exactly what she told you, however I have discovered something else,” he says and I look at him carefully.

“What?”

“I wondered why Mr. Lincoln might have called her. Why not make the same threat to you directly. It occurred to me that Lincoln was trying to instill fear in all the people who got the message: You, Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Grey in anticipation of what he might do. If he manages to hurt you, he’ll hurt Mrs. Grey who loves you and Mrs. Lincoln who seems to care about you. If he hurts Mrs. Grey, well, I don’t have to explain that. So, he left a question mark. Maybe an implied challenge. A duel if you will. Or simply a perpetual unease… Even if he didn’t do anything, he wants you to be uncomfortable. He wants you to always watch over your shoulder.”

I realized that I’ve been holding onto the table so tight, my knuckles are white. I know Lincoln can’t sue me, because he signed himself out of a job. But he’s challenging me implicitly.

“I want two things: I want you to locate the money he’s hidden. I also want him to be watched 24/7 for the next 6 months. If he does anything out of line, anything out of the scopes of law, I want to know immediately.” No one threatens my family, and gets away with it. Lincoln is either going to jail, or to his grave. I don’t care which."

“Interesting enough, he just left town.”

“What?”

“He went on a Caribbean vacation.”

What the hell does that mean? You threaten someone and take off. “He was pissed off yesterday. He made a threat to his ex-wife, but the threat implied to harm me and my family, and then he took off on a vacation. What am I missing here?”

I start pacing my study. Taylor’s eyes follow my movements.

“Since our discovery of Lincoln paying Hyde’s bail until today, all of Lincoln’s behavior had been rash, impromptu decisions where he didn’t have 100% of the control. Hyde’s success in his mission was dependent on Hyde. An element Lincoln didn’t know well and he certainly didn’t have control over. He’s not going to involve someone else. Whatever he does, we’ll have to expect either from him, or where he has greater control of the outcome of what he does. But for him to reach you in any shape or form, he needs to penetrate through our layers of security. He can’t do that with Lincoln Timber gone from his disposal.”

Danger Zone - Kenny Loggins

“He still has the fucking millions which can accomplish a lot! Did Mrs. Lincoln know anything about them?” I shout.

“No, sir. It was pretty clear that she didn’t. He never included her in his business affairs. She was just a trophy wife, an arm candy, or a possession like his former company, the Lincoln Timber. She has no clue where he might have put the money. But judging by what we found in his office, I’m betting that he has it in cash stashes put away in different places he might own. The account information we’ve found are still his accounts obviously and he will be able to access them. He’s not hurting for money at the moment.”

“I don’t want to wait until he finds the chink in my armor as he's biding his time. Get your men sniffing around and find out what his next move will be. And find his fucking lawyer, the one who did his dirty work. If Lincoln’s always used that fucker, he may be a gold mine of information. See what he knows.”

“I’ve already thought of that sir, and my men have been dispatched. I will keep a tight leash on him. But keep him on the loose; use him as bait. If Lincoln will use his services or someone he knows, we’ll know about it. Whatever he is intending to do, he won’t do it now. Because if Lincoln wishes to do some harm, he is going to have to determine how, where and when to strike. He won’t succeed in it by giving you a heads up. I think his initial expectation is that he is going to make you uneasy. Even if he shelves this desire for a long time, he wants to send you a message by telling you to always look over your shoulder. He’s daring you…” says Welch pausing. He has tried that yesterday. He goaded me, trying to get me into attacking him, to have the upper hand. It’s the same tactic. But I don’t want to take a chance where my family’s safety is concerned.

“This is what I want: I want him to be tracked. I want to know who he talks to, who he sleeps, eats, fucks, and who he associates with. When you give me your report, I even expect to know who his kindergarten teacher is! Know him well enough to determine what he thinks and what his next move will be. By identifying my family a target, threatening them, he made himself into a target! Congra-fucking-tulations! He just earned himself a fucking bounty on his own damned head!”

The door to my study opens and Anastasia catches my last sentence. Her eyes widen with fear and apprehension after hearing what I had uttered in pure rage.

“Welch, report me back soon!” I say hanging up. I walk up to my wife, but don’t touch her. I don’t want to scare her.

“Ana, are you feeling alright?” I ask softly, my gaze softening.

“Yes,” she says distracted. “Who were you talking about?”

I look at Taylor, and he leaves the study immediately. Hiding this, coupled with my earlier behavior in light of her morning sickness could cause a bigger threat. I don’t want Linc’s threats to be a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“I was talking to Welch about Linc.” She blinks.

“Linc? Why?”

“He’s made a threat against me and those I love to Elena.”

“Elena?” she asks, her eyes growing colder and harder. “How do you know? I thought you weren’t supposed to talk to Elena.”

“And I’m not. Elena called to inform me of the threat he passed onto her, and I've had Welch verify it. Considering what had transpired with Mia and your kidnapping, I’m not taking a chance risking your well-being. I’m telling you this because I want you to keep trusting me.” She is silent for a moment, assessing.

“He’s threatened you as well?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “But, I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you and our baby,” I say and feel the overwhelming truth in it. Even though the baby causing Anastasia to weaken and get sick which is scaring the shit out of me, the implied threat by Lincoln is bringing the fierce protector out of me.

“You’re worried about the baby? I thought… I thought…”

“You’re always going to be my primary worry, Anastasia. I panicked, and I am going to panic even more as we adjust to the stages of your pregnancy. Anything that hurts, you hurts me..." I say gazing at her, showing how vulnerable I have become in light of everything that has happened to her. "But I am trying to understand the process of pregnancy, and it’s not easy to not have control over something such as this. Something you want…” I say then correct myself, “someone we want has to hurt your body to be here with us. It terrifies the hell out of me!” I whisper. She catches a glimpse of the fear in my eyes, and her gaze locks with mine as her hands reach up to my face to cup it. I lean in to her touch. 

“Don’t you have to go to work today?” she asks changing topics.

“When you are sick? Ana, you collapsed in my arms! Do you think I can think of going to work when you’re unwell?” I have meetings, and piles of work but none of it is as important as my wife. I have number of very well paid people who can take the load off me occasionally.

“Actually, I’m feeling much better after the IV, Mrs. Jones’ broth with crackers and the nausea medicine,” she says. What is she asking me?

“If you think you’re going to work because you’re feeling better for the last ten minutes, you are completely mistaken Mrs. Grey,” I warn her. She purses her lips in contemplation.

“What did you mean by bounty on his head?” she asks. Anastasia is all over the map today, jumping from topic to topic.

“Nothing you should worry about baby. The only thing you need to worry about is this little one, and your well-being.”

“Christian, I don’t want to be back to square one. I appreciate you sharing the information about Linc’s threat, but I need to know if there is anything else that’s bothering you. Should I be worried about Elena?” she asks with poorly concealed jealousy.

“Ana, I’m telling you all about it because I need you to trust me. Linc called Elena and made an implied threat which I am taking seriously in light of what he had done by unleashing Hyde seeing a potential opportunity to hurt me and my family. In return I fucked him up by dismantling his beloved company. Now, he’s seeking to find a way to take his revenge. I need to know you’re protected. By making an implicit threat against the ones I love, against you, he put a bounty on his own head. I will never, ever let anyone to hurt you. Not ever!”

Anastasia swallows. “You’re not thinking of killing him, are you Christian?” she asks in a whisper, petrified. I shake my head.

“No,” I say with half-truth. I won’t kill him now, but at the first sign that he attempts to hurt my family, I won’t hesitate to hurt him the way he intends to hurt those I love. “But I have to keep eyes and ears on him so that everything he does are monitored. At least for the next six months. At which time, I will reassess the situation. This is for our peace of mind.”

“And what about Elena?”

“Elena is not my concern; you are! You and our baby,” I say splaying my hand over her flat tummy. “Incidentally, how do you feel now?”

“Great, actually. Just hungry for eggs, pancakes, bacon, and spreadable chocolate on French bread,” she says blushing.

“French bread only?” I ask raising my eyebrows.

“For now,” she whispers.

“Come, let’s feed you,” I say tugging her out of my office.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

The rest of yesterday had been uneventful. But, I’m not holding my breath of the same good luck for today. I decide to work at home at least in the morning to keep an eye on my wife’s symptoms. I shower early and work out before Anastasia wakes up. When I come back I don’t find her in the bed.

“Ana!” I shout. Her response comes from the bathroom in the form of a gurgle. I rush to find her slowly rising up from the sink. She puts the cap back on the mouthwash.

“I’m not fainting today,” she says smiling. “It’s nothing like yesterday.”

“Don’t spare my feeling Ana. I need to know you’re okay! You have to tell me if you’re not well so I can properly take care of you,” I chide her.

“Relax, Christian. I’m okay.” She turns the shower water on as she heads to the sink to brush her teeth. She divests her t-shirt off, then her panties. My gaze is unwavering from her body. I can’t help but stare at her beautiful shape. Her breasts are growing in size, fuller. Her nipples are beaded tight under my gaze. She has goose bumps forming on her skin. I quickly divest my clothes off carelessly. Anastasia smiles knowing the kind of effect she has on me. Her gaze slowly assesses my body. My cock pulses with the intensity of her stare. She absently licks her lower lip, and bites it.

“Ana…” I say gruffly pulling her chin down freeing her lower lip. “You’re unwell.”

“Well, Mr. Grey. I remember Dr. Greene telling you to fulfill all my cravings. Doctor’s orders…” she says shrugging. “Unless of course if that order can be broken, I think her order of me not going to work can also…” I don’t let her finish. My mouth descends on hers lightning speed, capturing her lips, taking, not asking. I suck on her lower lip and slightly run my teeth through it, swallowing her hungry groans. I slowly walk my wife into the showers backward. The cascading water washes us with renewed passion. Her hands are lacing in my wet hair, pulling me to her, working hard to merge our bodies.

“Slow down, baby,” I murmur.

“Please,” she pleads. My lips slide down to her chin and I nip her. “Please, Christian! I need you!” she begs.

“Turn around,” I order. She obeys immediately; her chest heaving up and down.

“Hands on the wall,” I say and she presses her palms over the tiles in the shower. Using my feet, I spread her legs. I squeeze some shower gel into my palm and lather it. I start with her shoulders, and knead her muscles with my soapy hands. I run my hands up and down on her sides in circles, and cup her breasts. Kneading her aching mounds, I pull and elongate her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, teasing and pinching them. My right hand goes lower on her chest, traveling down to her belly, over her pubic bone and then to the folds of her tight sex making her gasp. I merge my body with her from behind, my cock lying heavy on her lower back digging in. My fingers tease and run over her slit, feeling the creamy sleekness, inviting me in. When I dip one finger, she gasps and gyrates her hips, desperately trying to get some friction.

“Slow down, Ana,” I order. But she won’t listen. She moans begging for more.

“No! Faster!” she begs. I don’t want to push her to her limits. She’s been fragile lately. “I need more. I need faster!” She arches her back, and her breasts are thrusted into my hands aching for my touch, and desperate for attention.

Seeing her weak in the past two days is making me extra vigilant as if she’s going to collapse in my arms unexpectedly. My wife wants to be reckless as usual. I need to take her in a slow pace. Realizing my intention she turns her face to me. I look at her questioningly; my hand is suspended in air. Without a word she squeezes the shower jell into her palm, lathers and holding her hand up in a gesture to indicate she’s going to wash me. I nod. She places her hands on my pectorals, immediately firing up my synapses with her touch. She runs circles on my torso, delicately moving her hands over my belly, my hips, and cups my heavy sack inside her palm.  I breathe a sharp intake of breath. With one hand, she grasps the base of my cock. With soapy hands she slicks it and her hand glides up and down. When the circle of her thumb and her forefinger reach the crown of my cock she tightens her grip in an effort to squeeze out precum. I groan with pleasure. 

Water washes off the soap which runs down in lazy rivulets from my legs. When she sits on the bench, her hands never leave my cock leading me towards the bench as if she’s going to be there a while. She lifts her wet gaze up to me, and dipping her head, her warm, wet lips encircles the tip. Her tongue meets the crown and laps around it, licking. As if a thousand different sensations run through the tip of my cock, I find my right hand reach out to the shower wall to steady my balance with the onslaught of sensations with my wife’s sudden assault. She is determined to suck me off with such an enthusiasm, she’s about to unman me. At first I don’t know what to make of it. She’s been ill for the past two day. The sight of food would get her off, and get her running to the bathroom. Scents… It would kill me if she had associated any part of me with morning sickness. But, as usual, behaving just the opposite I expect her to behave, Anastasia surprises me. My wife is beyond ravenous for me!

“Anaaa...” I hiss through my teeth in a breathless whisper. “Are… you… quite…ahhh! Sure?” I ask. I don’t want her to stop, but then with her nausea in the sight of the slightest trigger, I don't want her to go on if it's going to make my wife sick. It would kill me if she’s turned off by me coming in her mouth. Without taking her hands or lips away from my heavy throbbing cock, she lifts her long eyelashes, and looks up at me with her mouth full of my pulsing erection. What she has in her gaze is an unmistakable declaration of possession. Her tongue relentlessly runs around the crown in a near desperation for a taste of me. She sucks me with heavy pulls as if she can’t get enough of me. I thrust forward gently, but she makes sure I know that she wants more. I push again fucking her mouth, only with shallow strokes. But Anastasia pulls me deeper. Looking up at me, asking for more with her gaze.

“Christ, Ana!”

Being without sex with for the last two days is enough to push me over the edge.

“Baby! If you’re not sure, I don’t wanna come in your mouth!” I breathe my head tilting back. In a desperate frenzy, she grabs my buttocks, and encourages me to move in her mouth. An erotic growl escapes my lips from deep within my throat. I slowly move my cock inside the hollow of her cheek, her hand is moving in the space vacated by her lips, and as her fingers retreat, her mouth is taking over my length. I can feel the desperation, the voracious hunger I have not experienced before from her at this overwhelming intensity.

I find my other palm also pressed against the wet shower wall as I climax with my wife’s amorous assaults. The sound that comes out of me is completely raw and raspy. I feel the tightening of my balls before I hit the precipice of my climax and spurt thickly into her mouth ready to withdraw, but her right hand grasps my buttock, her nails digging into my flesh in warning as if I’d be taking away her favorite meal. The second pleasure pours out if me, my eyes roll back into my head, and my left hand digs into the wet tendrils of my wife. This is raw, purely carnal declaration of possession, a conquest by my wife. When I come back to my senses and my eyes focus once again, I see my wife licking her lips. The shower water is raining over us; make the water drip from the tendrils of her hair, beading over her body, and running down to the shower floor in a rush.

“Christian, I am desperately craving you,” she says with a different kind of hunger as if I haven’t fed her for days, and she’s starving. “I need you so much, I want you to fuck the hell out of me!” she says with fervor and determination. Fuck the hell out of her? Who knew that sex would be what sated her hunger and sedated her body? Once her words register, I look at my wife with an impassive face then my lips curve up in a semblance of a smile. Fuck the hell out of her… I’m more than happy to oblige. I turn the shower water off, scooping my wife off the floor; I carry her out of the shower.

“In the Playroom!” she demands.

Fucking the hell out of my pregnant wife in the playroom does not give me an easy feeling. In that setting with my pregnant wife who has been violently ill for the past couple of days, I don’t think if it’s wise.

“Ana, I don’t think...”

“Please!” she begs desperately. What is this pregnancy doing to her? “I trust you…” she whispers. If my wife wants something, I’ll be the one to provide it for her. But, fucking in the playroom, right after she’s been sick enough to knock her out is not wise, today.

“Ana, I won’t take you to playroom this morning. I won’t take the risk. Because if you get sick while I’m touching you, fucking the hell out of you there as you put it, would kill me.”

“Christian, I don’t care! I want you! Desperately…” she reiterates.

“No playroom today, Ana! I say when! I say how!” I murmur in a determined, unyielding voice. “But I do owe you a handful of orgasms,” I say, giving a lascivious smile moving her into our bedroom in my arms.

“Christian…” she protests.

“I will take you there, baby. Just not today. Only when I’m convinced that you are better.”

“I am better!” she starts arguing. But before she can start another bout of her protests, I take her mouth, and cover it with mine, effectively quieting her down. My lips are gentle at first, solicitous even. I want to feel my wife first. Feel that she’s well and not just saying she’s feeling better. She slightly parts her lifts as she closes her eyes. Soon enough, she reaches up and pulls my wet hair with her fingers tangled in them, her body pushing into mine, making my erection dig into her belly, curling one leg behind mine, her nipples perked up and two beads taunting me; her entire body is eliciting a response out of me with brutal intensity. Her kiss becomes demanding, assaulting even. It’s a reiteration of her earlier declaration of possession, a hunger and yearning she has for me, almost matching my unquenchable desire for her. It’s impossible to not to reciprocate, and when finally I thrust my tongue almost forcefully into her mouth matching and exceeding her fervor, she gasps. Her right hand lowers, her nails scrape my back enticing me more. A whimper mixed with a pleasure moan escapes her lips and pass into mine. Our need for each other is intoxicating, desperate. My tongue moves in hers with deeper and skillful flicks. Her tongue matches the movements of my tongue, and our fucking the hell out of each other begins in her mouth.

 I walk Anastasia backwards to our bed, and when she can no longer move, back of her calves flush with the bed, I push her onto our bed. I fall onto her, suspended only by my elbows. I graze my teeth over her chin, and she arches her neck, lifts her hips up, thrusting her chest to merge with my body in a blatant display of her surrender.

“Eager, Mrs. Grey?” I murmur with a grin as my lips move down her neck.

“Yesss,” a whimper escapes her lips. I cup one of her breasts and feel the tight nipple. She’s too wired up, too hungry, too ravenous to be sated with a gentle love making. What she needs is intense, raw, and equally wild fucking. I immediately lift off her, leaving her gazing up in confusion. I try to stifle a grin.

“Where are you going?” she asks as I make my way towards the closet.

“To bring the emergency kit,” I respond. The confused look on her face is priceless.

I bring out a polished wood box with a few items in it reserved for occasions like these. Anastasia’s gaze follows me wordlessly. I walk to the iPod dock and shuffle through the contents until I fine the music I desire. The deep, bass-baritone voice of Leonard Cohen starts crooning, if she wants a lover, I’m her man.

If You Want a Lover – Leonard Cohen

I walk towards my wife in arrogant, sultry strides without taking my burning gaze off her. She’s so fucking beautiful. The sight of her can make any man weep for joy. But at the moment, I only wish to fuck the hell out of her just as she asked.

I place the box onto the bed next to her, and open it. I take out two sets of handcuffs with soft leather for the restraints. She arches an eyebrow and smiles as her lips part in eager anticipation. I place the cuff to her ankle and buckle the leather strap. Taking the other cuff, I tie it to her elbow which immediately pulls her right leg up exposing her sex swollen with desire. I repeat the process on her left side. Then I lift up the adjustable nipple clamps tied to another with a chain. Her eyes widen, and she sharply intakes a breath. She bites her lower lip in response. Taking her left nipple between my thumb and forefinger I roll it and tug it expertly. A shudder goes through her as she closes her yes, and automatically pushes her breast into my grasp as she arches her back.

“Eyes… open,” I order. When she opens them slowly, they are full of carnal desire. She swallows. I lower my mouth over her breast, and suck it into the wet warmness of my mouth with gusto. Her nipple immediately perks up as I flick it with my tongue. When I’m satisfied with the result, I saddle over her as my erection moving about her body, distracting her, I fasten the clamp over her nipple. I adjust the tightness somewhere in the middle, between pain and pleasure. Repeating the sensual process on her right side, I give a tug of the chain, slightly yanking the nipples. Anastasia’s legs are now wide apart, and pulled upward towards her elbows. When I grasp one of her feet, I graze my teeth on the pad of her sole.

“Agghh!” she groans writhing beneath me.

“Hush now,” I silence her effectively. My lips move their way up from her ankles to the backs of her knees, I locate the point between the two ligaments behind her knee, on the crease formed when her leg is bent. Taking my index and middle finger, I apply gentle pressure between the two tendons. It’s one of the best spots to relieve stress and fatigue, and promote sexual desire. I kneel down and kiss, and suck until I reach her abdomen. I lean into the tendons where her legs join her abdomen and with the heel of my hand, I apply pressure, and then dip my nose into her sex inhaling her deeply. Without even touch her at the apex of her thighs yet, she’s completely aroused and desirous for me. I locate the spot a few fingers below her navel and directly above her bladder and press it gently with three fingers as my tongue swipes the length of her slit. A sharp, involuntary moan rises from her lips.

“Christian!”

Folds of her sex bloom open for me; she’s wet, creamy and aroused. My lips cover over her clit and I suck hard, my tongue is teasing over the tip of it relentlessly, setting fire on every nerve ending of her body. I feel her gaze on me, and when I open my eyes, I see her pupils dilated, her irises darkened with abandoned desire. She tries to reach for my hair, but can’t do it without moving her leg, and I push her legs down. She’s helpless against my ministrations as she left me helpless in the shower. Tit for tat. My tongue dips into her sex and tastes her desire for me. I swirl it inside her and fuck her with my tongue in both deep and shallow thrusts of my tongue. She’s forced to absorb the pleasure since she can’t close her legs, and endure the intensity of her orgasm with my name garbled on her lips. Without giving a chance for her rolls of orgasms to subside, I flip my wife over, lifting her buttock up for my pleasure. I plunge my cock in one swift push, and plunge into the depths of her sex. I hold her ass up, and hold in the shakiness waves of her orgasm pulling my cock deeper. Then pulling it back with careful control, I only insert the crown, rubbing it gently, absorbing the ripples of her last orgasm. It jolts through my body in a surge of electricity. My erection is hard, hot, and trembling, aching to reach the depths of her sex, make her groan, make her mine, dominate her sex, and finally let her milk me for all I’ve got for her. I push deeper with the rhythm of the song. 

I feel her inner muscles clench, and hug my cock for more, making our intimacy not just fucking, but intensely passionate love making. I pull my cock away from her sex’s embrace as if in a tease, and then thrust it into her welcoming sex over and over again. When I angle her hip, I manage to find the deepest spot, my favorite place on earth located inside my wife. Angulating my hips, I rub onto her spot relentlessly, eliciting more pleasure.

“Oh, please!” Anastasia shouts. I withdraw to prolong the sensation slowly, allowing her ripples of approaching peak to subside for a little while. As soon as it fades, I plunge back again. I continue my delicious torture in and out, in and out. Then I lean down, and as I plunge into her again, I tug her nipple clamps, intensifying the sensations of pain and pleasure, making her sex fist my cock like a tight glove. Her hips meet me thrust for thrust pounding back at me. My balls are heavy and aching, as they rhythmically slap onto her clitoris and increasing her stimulation. As I reach my intense climax, I barely hear Mr. Cohen croon, “If you want a doctor, I’ll examine every inch of you. If you want a driver, climb inside. Or if you want to take me for a ride, you know you can. I’m your man…”

I am indeed her man, I think to myself as I spurt my desire, passion and need into her hotly. At the peak of her climax, I tug and pull off the chain of her nipple clamps and she shouts her very intense orgasm. I finally thrust into her four more times, and still; my cock is still lodged deep inside her, my balls effectively slapping onto her clit one last time. Once my vision manages to focus to here and now, I pull out of her with suction. Undoing the cuffs, I release her arms and legs from her restraints. Then, I massage them, and let blood circulate back into her extremities.

“Did that meet your expectation of fucking the hell out of you Mrs. Grey?” I ask.

“Yessss!” her breathy answer escapes her lips. “All the way!” I grin in response.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

After our intense fucking, Anastasia dresses in a sexy short white summer dress with straps. Her plunging neckline is distracting. It’s not too deep, but it certainly emphasizes her growing breasts which I don’t want others at home enjoy looking. I say nothing; we had such a wonderful morning, I don’t want to jinx it. Anastasia brings her work, spreading them over the bed, then she sits in the middle of them cross legged. A cursory glance tells me that they’re some of the manuscripts she wants to read. She finally lies down, lifting her calves up as she crosses her legs at the ankle; she absently annotates some of them with a pen. Her cleavage is even more distracting from this angle, but I continue to work on my laptop. As I’m distracted with her cleavage and my work, her ringing Blackberry startles us both. Seeing the caller ID, she frowns then takes a deep breath and answers. My gaze is fixed on her willing her to tell me who it is. Is it the fucker Jose?

“Hi mom!” she answers it as cheerfully as she can.

Fuck! Did Jose call her mother too?

“Yes, Ray was discharged out of the hospital last night. That’s why you couldn’t find him there,” she says and pauses.

“He’s well. Just needs to go to physical therapy for a couple of months. You didn’t call his cell phone?” she asks. I raise my eyebrows. Anastasia turns the speaker on for my benefit.

“Of course not, dear. If he was in the hospital and sleeping, I didn’t want to disturb him. When the nurse said he wasn’t there anymore, I had to make sure that he wasn’t transferred elsewhere. That’s why I called you.”

“I spent a little time with him after he was discharged. He was driven back to Montesano by friends. But he was remarkably well, mom.”

“Oh good! I don’t know how to put this, but I had this uneasy feeling all day yesterday and all day today. I feared that something had happened to Ray. Guess I panicked when the hospital said he wasn’t there.”

“Dad’s fine, mom. But, I was sick yesterday.”

“What! What’s the matter? Is it related to your injuries? Did you go to the doctor? What hurts? Your head, your ribs? Did your bruises heal? Do you want me to come? Oh sweetie, come on talk to me!”

“Mom, let me get a word in edgewise,” Anastasia says rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, dear…”

“I was sick but it was none of those things that caused me to be in that state.” Anastasia takes a deep breath, and looks at me, locking her gaze with mine.

“Mom, I was having morning sickness. I’m pregnant.” First, there is a pregnant pause as if the round penny is taking a few seconds to drop through a square hole, and then a very loud shriek comes through the speaker.

“Mother? Mom? Are you okay?”

“Ana!!! I am so happy! Both for you and Christian! Are you really going to make me a grandma?”

“Yes, mom,” comes Ana’s hesitant voice. Carla picks up on her hesitation.

“What’s wrong honey? You want the baby, don't you?”

“Most definitely! I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much aside from Christian,” she murmurs in a low voice looking up at me. “But, I’m having the worst morning sickness ever especially this week. It hit me all of a sudden. I don’t want you to worry about that. We’re trying to get it under control,” she explains.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. Unfortunately, you get that from me. I’ve had them when I was pregnant with you as well. For a while I was losing weight instead of gaining. Your daddy, bless his soul,” she says her voice breaking, “didn’t know how to handle it. I was hospitalized, you see, and they had to feed me through an IV. We both were very young and inexperienced. It worried your father a lot. But there’s light at the end of the tunnel. It lasted only the first trimester. I ate, you grew, and we were in love with you before you were born. I think that got us through that rough patch,” she says. Ana’s throat works on a visibly hard swallow.

“Thank you mom,” Anastasia whispers.

“For what dear?”

“For not terminating me and carrying me through a difficult pregnancy. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t keep me,” she says and I think it’s for my benefit.

“Honey, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Having you gave me a new life, a family of my own. And when you daddy was gone, you were all I had,” she sobs.

“I love you mom! Thank you for everything you did for me.”

“I love you, too, baby. Tell Christian I said hi and congratulations. Call me anytime you need.”

“I will mom. Thank you.”

After Anastasia places the phone back on the bed, she looks up at me and says, “Well, that’s everyone…”

“Everyone?”

“Yes, everyone’s been informed of our little Blip.”

Before I can respond to her comment, it is my Blackberry that buzzes this time. I take it and take a look at the caller. Holding my finger in a gesture that says one minute, I answer. My tone and my gaze immediately turns into a firm one.

“Ros! What’s up?”

“Mr. Grey, are you cancelling our meeting today?”

“If Andrea informed you of its cancellation, you shouldn’t be asking about it, Ros.”

“Well, as it happens, it’s a very important meeting, because it involves the final breakthrough our engineering team has made. I had assumed this would be something you would want to participate in since we’ve all had very stressful few weeks.”

“Breakthrough? What breakthrough?”

“Well, that was the surprise. They may have the solar and or the winding technology they've been working on finally meet your requirements,” she adds.

“Really?” I ask with excitement, standing up from my seat instantly.

“Yes, really. Of course, I haven’t seen it myself, but I was looking forward to a demonstration. Do you still think you can’t come today?”

“Let me call you back.”

“Alright, sir. I shall await your call back.”

I press the “End” button on my Blackberry. My eyes are ablaze with excitement as I look at Anastasia. She blinks back at me with fervent curiosity.

“Anastasia, what say you to going to work with me today?”

She purses her lips. “You won’t let me go to my work, but you want me to go to work with you?”

“Yes. I want to show my wife what we have been working on. The cellphone that works with solar and winding energy. The one I wanted to provide to remote places on earth where they have not readily accessible electricity. Of course if it works the way it’s supposed to, I think it can be beneficial for hikers, campers, outdoor enthusiasts who are away from technology for extended periods of time, or even give a surviving chance to a soldier who might be stranded somewhere with no means of communication.”

She smiles, remembering. She clearly knows what I like, where my passion lies. She has purchased a few toys for me utilizing the clean energy knowing my passion.

“Mr. Grey, take me to work,” she says grinning, and I hold my hand out to her excited with the prospect of taking her to the GEH for the first time since she first stumbled into my office.

Here it is – Leonard Cohen