BOOK IV - Chapter XV - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

CHAPTER XV

THE MASTER OF MY SOUL

He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still.

Lao Tzu

“Welch! I want some fucking answers! How did this news leak? I want you to find the source, and I want you to find who is stirring the pot spreading malicious rumors about my wife!”

“I’ve already dispatched some of my men to dig around, sir.”

“How soon can you get back to me?”

“We can either buy the information from the main source, or exchange information. But I don’t recommend it with the tabloids. It is however best to have a backdoor open for such cases as these.”

“No information exchange with the tabloids. My PR is going to set something up with one of the mainstream magazines.”

“Yes, sir. But even if the sit down interview, pictures, the whole nine yards is done with a mainstream magazine, paparazzi will do 'the baby bump watch'. You’re ‘it news’, sir.”

“How so? I guard my privacy jealously!”

“Mr. Grey, you have been a hard working CEO, young, and for all intents and purposes unattached and unreachable. When, Mrs. Grey captured your attention, people got curious. They want to know who this young woman is. Because, you’ve not been seen with a woman in public before, the dogs are sniffing around to see what made Mrs. Grey special for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went sniffing around her old workplace, friends, or hangouts, trying to dig a blemish, an ex-boyfriend, or anything in that nature. They’re looking for a Cinderella story they can tarnish given the current events with Hyde,” he says and I grit my teeth in rage.

“Find out what or who is behind it! I’ve also forwarded Pella’s message. It’s more than the paparazzi. Something is brewing, and I need you to contact him and find out what he has heard! All these things couldn’t be one big coincidence.”

“Okay. I’ll get in touch with him right away," he says before I hang up.  

I run both my hands over my hair. I run all the names in my head that could cause a problem. The list is led by none other than Roger fucking Lincoln. But he has no way of knowing of my wife’s pregnancy unless he's got someone tailing us or her. Such a leak would benefit him the most.

The line is brought down by Jose Rodriguez who had a fit and a near nervous breakdown when he discovered Anastasia’s pregnancy. He does have a few connections with the Portland Printz but these were the paparazzi. It couldn’t be Elena. She didn’t know about pregnancy. That leaves the family. But none of them would leak it intentionally.

I pick up my Blackberry again. Scrolling through numbers, I find his. The phone rings four times before it’s picked up. His voice is breathy like he just had sex or ran a marathon.

“Yeah!” he answers as he breathes rapidly. There’s no agitation if I distracted anything.

“Jose, this is Christian Grey.”

He tone cools down several degrees.

“What’s up man?”

“Did you talk to press or anyone about Anastasia’s pregnancy?”

“The press?” he asks surprised. “Of course not. I didn’t talk to anyone after I had an earful from my dad and Ray all the way home!” he says snorting.

“Are you sure?” I press on. “There were only a few people who knew of her pregnancy and you’re the one person who flipped about it!”

“Look man! I’m sorry. I feel horrible… in fact dreadful about it! Ana hasn’t been taking my calls since that day. Do you think I’d go and rat on her to a newspaper further ensuring the demise of our friendship?” he asks angrily. “She’s my friend! I’ve been trying to get her to forgive me,” he says in a low voice. “I messed up and let shit get through my head. Now, I can’t take it back! I fucked up then. I’d never betray her like that. But, why are you asking me if I talked the press about her?” he asks genuinely.

“Because she’s been ambushed by the paparazzi at her place of work who were less than kind to her.”

“What?” he bellows. I hear a loud noise, and something shattering. “Oh, fuck!” a pained groaning declaration comes after. “I’m sorry that she got ambushed! I would never ever cause anything like that to her. I hope it wasn’t anything related to the scene I caused at the hospital. Oh man! Please tell me it isn’t the reason!” he rapid fires, completely anxious now. I don’t want to comfort him, but I am also convinced now that he has not caused this, at least not intentionally.

“I don’t think it was anything related to the hospital incident. Okay...” I exhale a deep breath. “If I find out that you have leaked anything to the press about her pregnancy or talk to the press about my wife, I will get to you, and you will pay for it!” I hiss.

“That’s fair enough. But, I didn’t, I would never, ever do that to her. How could you even think I’d do such a thing to hurt her?” he utters sounding wounded with my accusation.

“The fact is Jose, you not only hurt her, but you embarrassed her in front of her physician, hospital security, my security personnel, your father and her father! You questioned Ana about her pregnancy as if she was a 14 year old girl knocked up by the first boy she ever saw! Anastasia is a married woman! Who the hell do you think you are to question MY wife about her pregnancy with our baby? If I want to knock my wife up, I don’t ask anyone’s permission. That is between MY wife and me! How dare you question her as if you have a claim on her? How dare anybody? But this isn’t even your first offense. You took her candid pictures and put them in an art gallery for others to ogle her and purchase her pictures like she was a commodity!”

“But, you’re the one who purchased them and told me you loved the pictures!” he retorts.

“That’s not the point. The point is that you have done that all without her permission. No matter how innocuous you may think of your behavior is, when you do something to her without her permission, you hurt her! You even tried force yourself onto her by trying to kiss her without her permission!”

“Please, just tell me she’s okay!” he says in a hoarse voice.

“Well, Jose, she is NOT okay! She was terrified!”

“Is she home?”

“No. She’s working.”  

“I’m sorry. I really am. Ana’s my friend…” he stars saying, but I cut him off.

“I don’t have time to ease your mind, or comfort your conscience! I am trying to protect my wife! So, make sure you don’t pull shit like you did at the hospital, or talk about her to someone, or do anything that is remotely hurtful to her! If you ever contribute to her misery, I will beat the shit out of you!” I hiss before hanging up hang up. Yet I feel more confused than ever. I’m completely convinced that the miserable fucker didn’t have anything to do with today’s paparazzi attack. Who the hell is after my wife and why? But I know that my wife is not the object of the attack; I’m the object and she’s the means to get to me.

When we arrive at the Grey House a tall order of business to conduct is waiting for me. Andrea follows me into my office with her usual bristling efficiency.

“Where’s, uhm...” I hold my forehead between “Janelyn,” I ask. I hope I don’t have another incompetent intern like Olivia.

“She’s seating your next group of appointment in the meeting room. She’ll be tending them with their drinks until you get to the meeting room, sir.”

“Who do we have?”

“European buyers, sir. It’s a company called Unlimited Luxury. They have several orders put in and your meeting with them is on the schedule within the next thirty minutes. Ros will be in the meeting room within a few minutes. They’d like to speak to you about getting custom made yachts on regular basis for their existing clients in various European countries. They have said that there are only three companies in the world that can handle this kind of request and GEH is on the top of the list because of our strong safety track.”

Of course I knew about the Unlimited Luxury. It’s an up and coming company with a very large bank account serving the world’s wealthiest when it comes to private jets, yachts, or ultra-luxury vehicles. They like to be the main distributor in Europe and they have ambitions of expanding into Asia. This can be a profitable business venture if the price is right.

Before going to the meeting, I e-mail Anastasia:
______________________________________________

From: Christian Grey

To: Anastasia Grey

Date: November 1^st, 2011

Time: 9:37 a.m.

Hi wife,

How are you feeling? I miss you. I wish I could take away all the hurt and pain you felt this morning.

No, this still doesn’t say what I want to convey to her… How do I express that she’s the center of my universe that what hurts her, hurts me more? I want to take everything that made her miserable away from her and simply make her happy. And the desire to punish those who inflicted this pain is gnawing at my soul.

Let me try again…

Baby,

I love you. It’s that simple, really. 

I love you so desperately; my feelings leave me at your mercy. I love you with all that I am, that anything that hurts you angers me, and fills me with such ferocious rage that I’m ready to take on anything that makes you upset, let alone miserable. I love your spark. I love your witty comments. I love your smart mouth. I love your intensity; I love your will to fight to be yourself. I love that you love me, that you love our baby inside you. You are my universe. At this point, I am simply a man who is madly in love with his wife. Whatever, whoever is outside and trying to hurt us don’t matter. Others don’t matter. I am big, bad and powerful enough to make that go away. Trust me. Trust that I love you. Trust that I will protect you and our baby. Trust that there’s nothing, no one more important than you and our child you are carrying. I will protect both of you.

I’m no longer the same fucked up man when you’ve met me. I’m still fucked up in many ways, but you make me whole; you forced me out of my dark corner I refused to come out. You and you alone have given me reason to change. You make me want to be a better man. You gave me hope in the future; I have fallen in love with you unexpectedly, quickly and desperately, Ana. I’d continue to love you even if you didn’t love me. Because, my love for you doesn’t have a prerequisite; it’s not conditional. But knowing that you do… that you love me makes me try harder to be deserving of your regard. You, Anastasia Rose Grey, are mine. My wife! 

And it’s my promise to you that I will make this go away.

Christian Grey

Madly in love CEO, Grey Enterprises Holding Inc.
______________________________________________

I get up to go to my meeting; my mind is still occupied with my wife. My fucking Blackberry is running out of charge. I put it in Andrea’s care to get it charged.

“Andrea, if my wife calls, she’s to be put through immediately no matter how busy I am. Just get me. Remind Janelyn as well,” I command.

“Of course, sir. It’s your standing order. I’ll remind Janelyn momentarily.”

As I walk through the door, I tell Andrea to bring my laptop in. If Anastasia e-mails me back, I need to have access to my e-mails during meeting.

Seeing her distraught like that today, leaving her at work and not bringing her back with me goes against every cell in my body. But, I can’t let her lose her spunk. I have to teach my wife how to be in charge of her surroundings even if her entire being wants to scream and run away. I have been an enigma, a well-kept secret before. My wife who is even more enigmatic than I, unknown to all only a few months ago is insanely hot and pregnant. She obtained a confirmed a bachelor, a man who some thought to be gay; the others who knew of my lifestyle would never dream that I would one day marry. Hell, I never thought that I could have this; I could love someone so indelibly, so completely. But now even imagining life without her in the hypothetical  is impossible. Naturally, the existence of such a rare woman in my life becomes an item of news. But, I wish to keep her away from this unwanted attention especially from the paparazzi.

Therefore, it’s at utmost importance that she can reach me any moment she needs me. My phone is out of charge and I need to be in a meeting for potentially a lucrative business deal. Taylor opens the door for me to enter. Ros is there and so is Warren. She looks like a young innocent woman, but that’s the downfall of the most business people when it comes underestimating her. She can make the devil wear his shoes backwards.

When I enter the meeting room, Taylor takes his usual spot in the corner, at an advantage point where he can survey and observe the entire room. Andrea nods at Janelyn imperceptibly. She puts the last bottled water onto the table in front of one of the businessman and walks to meet Andrea.

“Bonjour Monsieur Grey,” greets me the CEO of Unlimited Luxury in his Parisian accent.

“Bonjour Monsieur Decoux,” I respond with a professional smile as I take his proffered hand. « Avez-vous fait bon voyage? » I ask about his trip, though I don’t care one bit whether their trip was pleasant or not. He wouldn’t know that from my professional façade reserved for the business world. The face that says I’m uncommonly self-assured, tacitly dominant; the embodiment of the master and commander of all I survey. Not surprisingly, people respond to that in a submissive manner. The only exclusion to that would be other alpha males where I always declare my dominance above all. There can only be one alpha. Otherwise, we do not stay in the same place for a long time. It’s a matter of territory. And this is my turf. 

After the reintroductions, we discuss the business plan with the French businessmen and woman. They’re eager to do business with the GEH, because we simply build the best and the safest ships.

Nearly two hours into the meeting, I still have not received a response from Anastasia to my e-mail. The thought of it distracts me and I have to pay extra attention to follow the meeting outline.

Finally an answering e-mail arrives. My eyes immediately drift to my laptop and I move the mouse to open it immediately, effectively concealing my anxiety.  I snap open my bottle of water and draw a sip. After reading Anastasia’s greeting, I take another sip to appear busy and listening to the French businessmen’s proposal. Decoux starts making his closing remarks. My mind is only half grasping what he’s saying. I do however catch his joke on making a poor sales pitch because he failed to fully read my face as to what exactly I thought of his proposal and made a joke about blaming it on his ancestors who didn’t wish to become the unfortunate recipient of dérogeance, or in other words loss of nobility due to commercial and manual activities which rendered the future generations with the lack of such skills also making a reference of his noble lineage.

“I assure you Monsieur Decoux, I’m favoring your proposal, and we will give our full diligence  in examining it and return to you with a counter proposal that will be beneficial for both parties involved.” My response makes Decoux smile and he continues with his closing remarks. I turn back to my wife’s e-mail as I take another sip of the water.
______________________________________________

From: Anastasia Grey

To: Christian Grey

Date: November 1st, 2011

Time: 11:48 a.m.

Husband,

What a lovely message to get from my man, the love of my life. You have NO IDEA what your message did to me, how it elated me like a life preserve, how it lifted me up. Thank you!

It amazes me that you can be so romantic, so articulate in expressing your love. Knowing that you didn’t do the love thing in the past, I am beyond ecstatic to be the first, one and only recipient of your affection. That tells me you are mine in every way possible, just as I’m yours.

After you pushed me to face work today, I have to admit I was simply on auto pilot and had given all my attention to my waiting projects, reading and annotating manuscripts to keep myself so busy that I’d forget the morning’s incident. Doesn’t mean I like the paparazzi any better at this moment, but you, husband, you made me feel immensely better. By the time we had the editors’ meeting, I was feeling somewhat like myself. But it was your message, the declaration of your love that lifted me up. I only read it a few minutes ago, because I made sure I was busy throughout the morning. Now I wish I had seen it earlier. Seeing your tender words made me miss you. Really miss you... Thank you for loving me so much. Thank you for making me, making us feel safe.

On another positive note which I know will make you happy, I feel ravenously hungry. Sawyer had gotten me a turkey sandwich, Greek salad then a croissant with cream cheese and hot Twinning’s tea. I’m ashamed to say that I ate them all about an hour ago and just got hungry again. I’m also happy to report that I feel no morning sickness so far (of course, I’ll be crossing my fingers after I hit send).

I want to tell you that I too love you passionately, desperately, sometimes with such a shocking intensity that the aching craving I feel for you is completely indecent, vulgar, licentious, obscenely lustful and unbelievably voracious and it only got worse after you knocked me up… I mean since becoming pregnant. I desired all those things before getting pregnant but this craving is getting unbelievable! Here I am, a 22 years old woman with a job as an editor at a respectable publishing company and I’m unable to concentrate on a simple task like reading a lovely manuscript. But, instead I find myself just thinking about my husband’s hands on my body and his cock inside me! I should still be upset from this morning and yet I’m lusting after my husband to distraction…  

I find the magnitude of my love and desire amplified many folds. I don’t think it’s just the pregnancy hormones kicking in. It’s you! You are my addiction. Pregnancy just made me a little bolder. I never thought love such as this would be possible. It used to scare me and in some ways it still does. But our love also became my lifeline. I’m endlessly happy that you, Christian Grey are my husband, all mine to have and to hold, to love, and to have you fuck me on the wooden crosses, and to spank me until you make me come screaming your name, and to be kissed by you everywhere while my hands are cuffed, and to play with you in the Red Room of Pain (pleeeease?) and to make love most evening and to cherish forever and ever. You are my soul. You’re everything to me. I love you!

Ana

PS: Note that I’m emailing from my Blackberry and not the SIP e-mail. See I can be amenable occasionally. :) 
______________________________________________

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!! Not only did I get a huge erection unexpectedly, lustfully at a very inopportune time, in the middle the God damned meeting, and with a roomful of businessmen who traveled from Paris to work out a brand new business deal, but I, Christian Grey just choked on my bottled water drawing everyone’s attention to me. Curious and some concerned gazes are all trained on me.

“Monsieur Decoux, you are not only a shrewd businessman but also very entertaining with your witty comments. It must be a trait of the charming French men of nobility. However,” Ros says patting my back lightly with her hand twice, “Mr. Grey is very susceptible to French humor having lived in Paris in the past. Just don’t drown my boss with your wittiness. We still need him here,” she says smoothly with a delightful smile, drawing a hearty laughter around the table.  Then remembering I dislike touch she asks, “Are you okay there Mr. Grey?”

“Yes,” I say coughing again, smiling for their benefit. The meeting is nearly over, but I find myself in a state of arousal, and a huge hard on in the middle of my fucking business meeting rather awkwardly, incommodiously, and plainly. This has not happened to me, ever. Not like this! I’m always in control of my body.

Just as Alain Decoux and his senior management officers ready themselves to wrap up the meeting and leave, I turn to them and to give my cock sometime to be tamed and distract my mind, I quickly think a random question to ask. Somehow, Anastasia’s e-mail found the emergency bypass of my brain and seized the control of my fucking cock!

“Monsieur Decoux, now that we nearly wrapped up our meeting, I wanted to ask you your opinion on a French production. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the movie Intouchables. It’s supposed to be coming out tomorrow here in the U.S. I’ve read the book, of course. Since you have aristocracy in your lineage, I wondered if you read the book and whether you’d seen the previews of the movie.”

Intouchables

He’s a little confused, but answers my segue.

“I don’t believe I have, Monsieur Grey. Is there a particular reason for your interest in the movie? Forgive me; I don’t know the full context of the book or the movie. I’ve heard of it, but haven’t had the chance to read the book.”

“Well, I was intending to take my wife to see it during the International Film Festival. I wanted to get someone’s opinion firsthand. Most times movies can’t do justice to the books.”

Decoux’s right hand woman clears her throat.

“If I may interject, Monsieur Grey. I’ve read the book and I’ve seen the movie during a special screening only last week,” says Julianne Durant with a barely concealed admiration. She’s a well groomed, well-spoken, well-educated aristocratic woman who is in her early 30s. Tall, slender, blonde, holding her own, but still has a long way to fill the Manolo Blahnik heels she’s wearing and to be Ros’ caliber.

“And your thoughts on it?” I ask feigning interest.

“I completely recommend it.”

“Why?” I ask as Ros looks at me with such curiosity as if she’s trying to solve a difficult puzzle.  

“It’s beyond a stuffy disabled French royalty meeting an African immigrant, a potential cheeky caregiver who was trying to cheat the system by being rejected for the open position so he can collect his welfare check. They are two people who couldn’t be any different in social or racial backgrounds, yet, they’re what they need for each other. One’s blood is as blue as it gets, and the other as common as it’s humanly possible. Yet, how you say it in America? It’s what the doctor recommended.”

“I didn’t know you had a literary side Julianne,” says Decoux with peaked interest.

“My blood is as blue as yours Monsieur Decoux. Graduating from Sorbonne and later Cambridge made me appreciate great literature, but, there are other reasons why I particularly enjoyed this book as well as the movie at the private screening,” she says articulately. “The main character is quite wealthy. He owns all the luxuries of life, stuffy like the old school blue bloods, but also is in possession of fast cars, private jets, yachts, even a chateau, but, alas, he’s unable to enjoy the refinements of life because he’s paralyzed. The underprivileged character finally makes the wealthy Philippe realize what he has and shows him how to relish his possessions and enjoy life once again. Anything that will make people appreciate finer things in life, luxuries we are offering Europe and Asia at large is a welcome sight for me and good for business,” she says smiling as if to show me she can be a shrewd businesswoman.

I see Taylor on my peripheral vision discreetly looking at his Blackberry reading a text and frowning. Why is he frowning? Did Welch contact him? Or is it about Anastasia? If she had called me, Andrea knows she needs to bring my phone to me. She emailed me only half an hour ago. Did she get sick? Oh shit! She’s probably sick again. My gaze turns serious and I look at Taylor questioning eyes.

He approaches the desk and leans down and whispers in a seemingly discreet voice but he knows to be only loud enough for others to hear.

“Excuse me, sir. Apologies for interrupting your meeting. We have a minor emergency that requires your attention at your earliest convenience,” he says in a taciturn face.

I look at him questioningly; intensity of my inquiring gaze scans his face for any sign of an emergency. When we lock eyes, I know immediately that this is somehow about Anastasia. The moment I confirm that there’s something going on about my wife, I feel anxiety and concern rise inside me. But on the outside, I don the predator look. With ice cold shards covering my gaze, I stand up with the ease and agility of the animal grace. Turning to the group of French businessmen, I pass my apologies, ready to make my exit.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” I say buttoning my jacket, “it appears that a CEO’s job is never done. My colleagues Ms. Bailey and Mr. Warren will help you finalize the document while I tend an urgent matter that is requiring my attention presently. Monsieur Decoux, it’s a pleasure to do business with you. We will reschedule a final meeting after we review the documents you’ve presented. And merci beaucoup Mademoiselle Durant for the movie recommendation,” and I nod to the rest of them as the businessmen stand up in response to my hasty goodbye. I quickly accept Decoux’s proffered hand, and ordering Ros to take over with my gaze, I leave the meeting room.

As soon as Taylor closes the door behind us, I turn to him and ask, “What the hell is wrong?”

“That was Sawyer texting. It appears he called your cell phone, but the new intern said you were in the meeting, and did not put you through.” What the hell?

“I’ll deal with her later! Why was he texting?”

“Mr. Jose Rodriguez showed up at SIP and apparently Mrs. Grey knew of his arrival. She went to lunch with him. Sawyer’s text said that he was apologizing the entire time and at first Mrs. Grey was reluctant to go to lunch but he insisted so he could ask for her forgiveness.”

“Where the fuck was the bastard? I thought he was in Portland!”

“No, apparently when you called him today, he was in Seattle. He felt bad about what happened to Mrs. Grey and came to her work groveling and apologizing,” he repeats.

“Shit!” I alerted the bastard of my wife’s distress and drove him all the way to my wife! Did I forget to tell him my wife is off limits to him?

“Yes, sir. But they’re not far. Sawyer drove them to a small Mexican restaurant off the beaten path.”

I walk towards my office and stop in front of the reception area. Both Andrea and Janelyn jump up to their feet. I extend my hand for my phone. Ignoring Janelyn completely I turn to Andrea.

“Why wasn’t I informed of Sawyer’s call?” I ask.

Andrea’s face looks surprised, and then her mouth drops open understanding what Janelyn had or rather hadn't done. She closes mouth and opens again.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Grey. I wasn’t aware that Sawyer called. I would have immediately brought the phone to you.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Grey,” Janelyn replies chagrined. “I was under the impression that only Mrs. Grey’s phone calls were to be put through, and I took messages for the other calls. Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“Yes! You did! Sawyer is my wife’s bodyguard and you know it! You did not let him speak to me!”

“I apologize, Mr. Grey. I… I was trying to go by the book and… I’m sorry,” she says finally when she sees my growing rage.

“Don’t. Ever. Interrupt. Me! I will deal with tomorrow,” I say in a low voice. Too low to be mistaken with anything but malice. Janelyn turns puce and is ready to cry.

“Let’s go!” I order Taylor. As we enter into the elevator, I check my Blackberry. There are two text messages from Anastasia.

*Christian, Jose is here to apologize. He wants to go lunch with me to make amends. I will go and hear him out. I want to give him a chance instead of making assumptions about what he did. After this morning, I realized that I don’t want others to make assumptions about me. I should be kind and reciprocate in the same way.*

The next message came 10 minutes after the first.

*Either you’re busy or you’re okay with me going to lunch with Jose. We will be at Tia Rosa’s. Sawyer is driving us. I’ll call you when I get back to SIP*

What the hell is my wife thinking? Jose! Going out with Jose! And what the hell is Jose doing? Didn’t I berate him just this morning about paparazzi hounding my wife? What does he do? He goes and finds my wife to get himself forgiven knowing full well that a simple picture no matter how innocent can be misconstrued. I’m writhing in anger. When the Ground Level dings open I take the lead with rapid steps and Taylor walks briskly to catch up with me.

“Mr. Grey?” he asks.

“What!” I snap.

“Sawyer is on the phone, sir.”

“Where the hell are you?” I hiss.

“At a small Mexican restaurant called Tia Rosa, just off the main street. Mrs. Grey is safe, the restaurant isn’t busy.”

“What’s she doing?” I ask as Taylor opens the door of the SUV. He closes the door after I enter.

“She ordered seafood tacos and chimichanga. She’s sitting with her arms crossed, leaning back in her seat, listening to Mr. Rodriguez speak to her,” he responds.

Sitting back her arms crossed is good. That means she’s closed to him whatever he’s trying to say, or however he’s trying to impress her.

“Why didn’t you insist on talking to me?”

“Mr. Grey, I only had a few minutes because I first was going to prevent Mr. Rodriguez from seeing Mrs. Grey after the hospital incident per the briefing we had. But then Mrs. Grey came out and said she was expecting Mr. Rodriguez, and I should bring him in when he comes to SIP. He was already waiting at the reception area by then. Based on his behavior last time, I was unsure how he was going to behave and wanted to prevent him causing another scene. But, Mrs. Grey said all was well, and she would inform you of his visit. I wanted to follow protocol and inform you regardless. When the new intern said you were in an important meeting, I didn’t want to disturb you. However, Taylor had insisted that he is to be informed about every unscheduled trip, or unexpected visitor, so I texted him. I couldn’t talk because I had to go in to Mrs. Grey’s office with Mr. Rodriguez, and when he went back to the reception to wait for Mrs. Grey while she gathered her things, I barely had the time I did to quickly make a call to you and when I couldn’t reach you, Mrs. Grey was already out and ready to be driven. So, I immediately texted Taylor.”

“Were there any paparazzi when you left?”

“No, sir. The police took care of them all this morning and Welch’s men have been patrolling the radius of the SIP to stop any paparazzi that the cops may have missed. One of Welch’s men already followed us to the restaurant. He’s scanning the area just in case.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Grey is sitting at a booth close to the back patio. Follow the main corridor of the dining area and take a right, please.”

“What’s Mr. Rodriguez’s demeanor like? Angry, anxious, confrontational, mean, loud?” I ask.

“Pleading. He seems to be begging. He’s talking in a low voice but speaking rapidly. And he looks like he could cry if Mrs. Grey said once terse word. Just wiped his right eye with the back of his hand,” Sawyer says as if he’s giving a play by play report.

He’s playing on Ana’s soft and forgiving side. He should have thought about this before he started his shouting match at the hospital over my wife’s pregnancy. Unplanned, I admit it, but that is none of his damned business. My wife doesn’t have to explain jack shit to this asshole!

“We’re right around the corner. We’ll see you soon,” I say and hang up. Taylor makes a quick right to the restaurant parking lot. If any paparazzi are here, it’d be like we’re all meeting for lunch. I enter the restaurant and Taylor follows me. The host looks up and she swallows.

“How many people sir?” she asks.

“I’m meeting my party here. Just one.” She looks at Taylor confused, but doesn’t say anything. She then shuffles and drops the menus, muttering an apology under her breath. Then, picking up a menu, she steals a quick glance in my direction then leads the way. I locate my wife, and in the same instance she feels my presence. Pinning her with my gaze, I walk towards their booth. She’s still sitting back but her arms are no longer crossed, and Jose is leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his hands are reaching towards Ana’s direction in an unconsciously pleading gesture. His gaze follows Ana’s eyes, and when he locates me he stiffens. My eyes focus on his arms reaching towards my wife. Tilting my head to the side, I raise my eyebrows with a reticent face. My gaze is cold, shards of ice. In slow but assured steps, with a presence declaring my dominance, I reach the booth they’re occupying.

“Hello,” I say in a low questioning voice.

“Christian!” Ana replies in a breathy voice. Her eyes scan me with a little awe, a little intimidation and barely disguised ravenous hunger. There is also a tinge of irritation. She narrows her eyes, questioning me what I’m doing here. Jose immediately leans back and pulls his arms away from the direction of my wife. He first looks like a berated teenager. I nail him to his seat. Then turning back to my errant wife, “Mrs. Grey,” I say both emphasizing and declaring my possession of her.

“What are you doing here?” Anastasia asks, her voice breathy.

“I heard that their fish tacos were great. You know me and good food. Of course, good food in the company of my wife, coupled with her earlier e-mail telling me how hungry she was,” I say with a seductive voice, “I wanted to make sure I’d satisfy all her hungers.”

The hostess turns red, flustered, Jose looks like he swallowed a nasty bug, and Anastasia first blinks, then her mouth opens. She wants to say something, but too shocked to say it. She closes her mouth then opens it again. She is both appalled, turned on and blushing all at the same time. I turn back to the hostess with a dazzling smile.

“I don’t need the menu. Fish tacos and bottled water please. Thank you,” I say and unable to say a word back to me, the hostess nods, and hastily retreats muttering, “holly shit! ¡Muy caliente! Hot! Hot! Hot!”

“Jose,” I nod with a cold gaze.

I slide into the booth with grace next to my wife.

“Hi baby,” I whisper locking my gaze with hers. She instinctively moves closer to me even though I can feel her agitation with me. I lean in, asking for her permission to kiss with my eyes. She reaches up, and I capture her lips with mine, kissing her possessively like there’s no tomorrow. She blushes crimson, left breathless when I’m through with her. She’s unable to look at her friend in the eye.

“Hi. I gather you got my text,” she murmurs.

“Of course. I would have come sooner, but I was otherwise engaged.”

“Engaged?” she asks narrowing her eyes. Is that jealousy? I like her jealous of me. My wife declaring her possession of me in front of other men is simply hot and a huge turn on.

“Yes. French businessmen and woman. I had a meeting.”

“French businesswomen?”

“Businesswoman. Singular. The rest were businessmen. Of course after receiving your e-mail, I was too… distracted… to focus on the task at hand.”

“We were just having some Mexican food and clearing the air about… you know.”

“So, I gathered,” I say with an impassive face again.

“I didn’t know you were in town Jose,” I accuse him.

“I am for another day. I have to go back to school though,” he adds hastily. “Since I was in town already, I wanted to talk to Ana and apologize to her once again. Nothing is worth destroying my friendship with her. I just wanted her to know that I’m always her friend no matter what, and she can always count on me. Although I had not been a good friend as I should have been, maybe she’ll give me a chance to make amends,” he says with double meaning. He’s basically telling me that he’d be waiting in the wings should I screw up with her, my child and all.

“Isn’t that very considerate of you? Ana does need good, loyal, selfless friends who are interested in nothing but her well-being. I wouldn’t want anything upsetting my wife especially in her condition as an expectant mother,” I mutter in a flat tone to Jose with unblinking eyes.

“How do you feel today, baby?” I turn and ask Anastasia in an overly solicitous voice.

“Good. No morning sickness so far,” she says crossing her fingers on both hands. “Just very hungry,” she adds. I look at her barely touched plate.

“You have not eaten much. Is there a reason why your appetite is suppressed?” I ask.

“Nooo,” she says putting her napkin on the table hastily. I feel the rising tension on the table.

“How’s your father Jose?” I ask changing topics. “Has he gotten better since the accident?”

He takes a big gulp of breath as if he just came on the surface from the depths of the ocean.

“Yes, he’s much better. Still has physical therapy, but he can do some of the fun activities he used to enjoy. My dad, Ray and I were watching the Mariners play at Safeco Field just recently.”

“Ray was well enough to go to the stadium?” I ask. I don’t know why it irritates me Jose spends time with Ana’s step-father.

“They do have access for disabled, but yes, he was well enough,” Jose replies finally taking a bite of his untouched enchilada.

A different waitress brings my fish tacos, and bottled water.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile, and she whimpers batting her eyelashes.

“You’re welcome, sir,” she replies in a breathy voice. Anastasia narrows her eyes on the waitress who scuttles away as she meets Anastasia’s forbidding gaze after the waitress’ submissive response.

“Why don’t you get us the check?” Anastasia asks the waitress.

“You haven’t eaten yet and neither have I,” I accuse.

“I will by the time she brings it. I’ll take the rest with me to work.”

“You’re still going back to work?” I ask incredulous.

“Yes, I’m only out for lunch. I have a mountain of work to get through.”

Jose eyes us curiously.

“Can I persuade you to come home with me?” I ask.

Anastasia’s eyes dart to Jose as she blushes to her hairline.

“I still have four more hours to go, Christian. And since I feel well today, I think I ought to get through some of it,” she murmurs.

The waitress comes back with the check, and I take a $100 bill and tuck it into the check before she places it on the table.

“Keep the change,” I mutter with a smile.

“I was going to get it, Christian,” Jose says petulantly.

“It’s alright. Your money’s no good here,” I respond. I’m not going to let another man pay for my wife’s meal. Then turning back to Anastasia, I ask, “would you like to come to GEH with me then?”

Anastasia sighs. “Christian, I have too much work to do. Too many manuscripts to read and annotate, summarize and gist.”

“We can stop by and get your work, and you can take it with you. Come with me,” I whisper in a low voice with nothing but a devilish seduction. She immediately knows my intent.

“Can I talk to you privately?” she asks in a whisper.

“Yes, of course,” I say, and stand up. Extending my hand, I help Anastasia up.

“We’ll be back in a minute, Jose,” she briefly smiles, and he frowns, tossing his napkin onto the table. His nostrils flare, but there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

Anastasia walks back towards the patio. There are no patrons sitting there, and the lunch crowd is only sitting inside.

As soon as the door springs back and closes, Anastasia turns to me. Taylor is guarding the door on the other side.

“Why are you doing this Christian?” she asks frowning.

“You know why,” I say in a low voice.

“No, I don’t! Enlighten me, please. Is it because the paparazzi were accusing me of disloyalty to you? If it is…”

“Stop talking!” I growl, leaning down to her lips. We’re only a whisper away from each other. I can feel Anastasia’s heartbeats.

“I don’t give a shit about what anyone says let alone some sleazy paparazzi. I never have. What I care about, is you. The person I wish to protect is you, and the person you’re carrying inside your womb. You and this little one,” I say splaying my right hand on her belly and my left hand caresses the small of her back, “are mine. Both of you. I will do everything in my power to protect you both. Watch over you… I was worried today when I heard that Jose came to you. Because he came right after I called him today,” I say.

“What? You called him? Why did you call him?”

“I called him because you were ambushed this morning by the paparazzi and only few people knew of your pregnancy, and only one of those people had a fit after hearing that you were with child,” I murmur.

“I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t out to hurt you.”

“He’s my friend, he wouldn’t do that!” she retorts.

“Be that as it may Ana… He has a track record that says otherwise. I’m not about to let that list grow at your expense.”

“What track record?”

“Where shall I begin? Pushing his suit on to you, not to mention his tongue when I came to rescue you from your drunken stupor. Taking your candid pictures without your permission and then putting them on an art exhibit for other people to purchase. Making accusatory remarks that you were marrying me for my money…” she narrows her eyes with my last remark.

“How did you know that?”

“I heard him talk to you. Even if it was laced with a joke, that’s what he was thinking. My final straw was when he embarrassed you in front of your doctor and the hospital staff, accusing you of getting knocked up! I have had all I can take of Jose.”

“He wanted to apologize, and make amends.”

“That’s fine; he has done that. But the friendship requires two way respect. He has not respected your decisions, or choices, because they’re not to his favor. That’s not the behavior of someone who cares for his friend.”

“Christian…” she exhales long. “Are you doing this because you’re jealous?”

“It’s partly that,” I confess. “But that is not the primary reason.”

“What is the reason Christian?” she asks. “Can’t I just have lunch with an old friend?”

“Baby, if Jose was just an old friend who wished to have lunch with you, I’d not have a hard time. Well," I amend, "My old self would. What Jose is doing, or attempting to do is to fight for your affection.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! He knows I’m a married woman!” she retorts.

“Oh, yes, he knows that very well, but baby, he’s still fighting for you, for your regard.”

“Nooo…” she says incredulous.

“I know you don’t see yourself as other men see you. But, Ana,” I whisper into her lips, “any man would fight for you. You’re beautiful, sweet, intelligent, sassy, smart mouth; you're simply a delectable specimen of a woman. I intend to keep fighting for your regard and attention. You’re my wife, and I am but a mortal man who is deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with his wife.”

Truly, Deeply, Madly - Savage Garden

“Oh, Christian,” she breathes as I slowly walk her back to the wall and trap her between in the confinement of my body and the wall as my arms keep her in my captivity.

“Come home with me…” I whisper. “I have been hard since I’ve read your e-mail… quite publicly and unexpectedly I might add. You alone have the power to make me lose control.”

“I’ve not been myself all day, but I think you were right this morning. I need to gain control at work and learn to handle criticism, or at least not care about it so I can be myself the rest of the time. But, I am tempted to go home knowing I should get back to work. You’re not making it easy, Christian,” she whispers.

“Baby, you constantly tempt me, and since receiving your e-mail today I have been a cocked gun, aroused, and hungry for your touch.”

As the last word leaves my lips, Anastasia places her hands against my chest and presses me backward. Her hands travel under my jacket encircling my waist, reaching up my back. My eyes darken; my breath hisses through my teeth. My cock throbbing and aching to be inside her, inside the wet warmth of her luscious lips.

“Compromise… Let me finish my work day today. I promise you can fulfill all that I asked in my e-mail.”

“Topping from the bottom again, Mrs. Grey?” I murmur pressing against her.

“Like you would surrender the control over to me, Mr. Grey,” she whispers carnally.

“You have no idea what I’d let you do, baby. I’d do just about anything for you. And right now I have this overwhelming need to fuck you. Make love to you till you scream my name, and get you so sated that you won’t remember the name of anything male for some time!”

Anastasia’s lips part and she swallows hard. There is immense desire in her gaze mingled with other emotions: love, lust, tenderness and primitive satisfaction of a woman who knows she got her man by the balls.

“Counter offer… You work two hours and I pick you up at 3:00 p.m.” I murmur nipping and sucking her lower lip.

She groans.

“Four o’clock.”

“3:30,” I whisper pressing into her.

“Deal!” she responds her blood heated.

“Now, let’s say goodbye to your friend, and I’ll take you back to SIP before I decide to take you in the nearest private space,” I say holding my wife’s hand and tugging her behind me.

Jose is unable to make eye-contact with Ana as she thanks him for making amends with her and says her goodbye. When he manages to look up at her he whispers:

“You really are happy, Ana?”

“Yes, Jose. I’m insanely happy with my husband,” she says squeezing my hand as her other hand absently and protectively travels to her belly.

“Then I’m happy for you. But,” he says lowering his voice, “whenever you’re not, I’m there for you. I’m your friend,” he says leaving his unsaid words of how he wishes he was more.

“Thank you. You are my friend, the brother I never had. I wish to see you happy with someone who cares for you and loves you the way you deserve to be loved,” Anastasia says to him. Then lowers her voice, “but, I’m not that person. I am a married woman in love with her husband. Madly in love…” then she takes a step away from me and holding Jose on his elbow she walks a few steps away from me. “I wish that for you, for your life. Not someone who can’t love you the way you love her. There will never be someone else for me. Ever. There’s only Christian. There will only be Christian. I can’t love anyone else like I love him. He’s my husband, he’s my life, and he’s my entire universe.”

“He’s controlling,” Jose whispers under his breath.

“He’s mine, and I’m his. I don’t want him any other way. I love him with all his flaws, with all his fuckedupness, with his controlling demeanor. I love him not because who he is, but for what I am when I’m with him. I am whole, complete, happy and I am my best version because of him.  We complete each other. Please understand that. If you want a friend, I’m your friend, I’m your sister. That will never change and I hope that’s enough. If you want something more, know that I can never be that for you or for anyone else. It will always be Christian for me.”

“I know, but…” he starts in a low murmur.

“Before you say anything further, Jose, I want you think hard about what you wish to say to me, please. I wish to keep you as my friend, but anytime you think of me as something more, I will cease my contact with you despite the fact I love you and value our friendship, Jose. And don’t ever question my husband’s love or regard for me. It’s not your place to do so. He’s my man and mine alone!” she says, her voice a fervent whisper. “The minute you stop respecting my relationship with my husband, I will not stop him from whatever measures he wants to take, in order to know that you’re not infringing into his territory. As much as Christian Grey is mine, I’m also his. I’m his pregnant wife and not an available single girl. Show us the respect for our relationship so that we can reciprocate you in kind. Do you understand my reticence? You say that you value my friendship but your behavior says otherwise. You’re forcing my hand into cutting my friendship with you, however reluctantly, but it’s your own doing…” Jose opens his mouth to say something but Anastasia holds her finger.

“This is your chance to tell me once that the friendship I offer you is enough, or you will silence it for good.”

“Your friendship is enough, Ana. It has to be.”

I have been proud of my wife before, but at this moment, Anastasia taking charge of her friend and setting him straight and putting my mind at ease makes me fall in love with her all over again. She’d make a damn good dom. Then again, I know she’s a switch. Fuck! I can’t wait till this evening!

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

“Mr. Grey, can I have a few minutes with you?” Ros asks after I get back to GEH.

“I have 15 minutes till my next appointment. My office…” I say and open the door for her.

She takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk. I round the corner of my desk and sit. Crossing my left leg over my right knee, I ask, “What’s in your mind?”

“First things first… Miss Julianne Durant left this note for you,” she says with distaste as she extends a sealed envelope. “I’m quite sure it’s not business related because she would have given it to me to open. Although I made sure that she knew you are happily married to a spectacularly beautiful woman. I also want to congratulate you and Mrs. Grey for the pregnancy news,” she says. I arch my eyebrows immediately and my eyes narrow, pinning her in her seat quizzically.

“Hold your britches boss! I’m not trying to nose into your private life. We have to keep up with you through the gossip blogs and magazines so we can effectively defend your name, sir, and of course against unwanted advances of others,” she says meaning Mademoiselle Durant.

“But, I suspect you’re not here to babysit my personal affairs.”

“Good heavens, no, boss! The French deal can be a lucrative one. I like Decoux. I think Durant can also be a sensible businesswoman though she’ll still full of her hierarchical, class shit. I was wondering…” she says clearing her throat, “can I have the honors of straightening her up, or do you wish to do it? I like the business end of it, but I don’t like the Europeans rubbing our noses in their blue bloods and their aristocratic lineage. It’s boiling the hell out of my red American blood. The only class distinction I care about is the one based on merit. She hasn’t shown me that yet. Decoux has it, and has good business sense. But Durant rubbed me the wrong way and since we are going to be in business with them in the long term, I prefer to be on equal footing.”

“I don’t. I am above them. Equality is overrated. You can of course establish your equality, but I don’t wish to entertain anyone’s notion that I’m her equal, or his equal. I’m his better. They came to my company for business, and this is our turf. Act like it. Titles mean nothing to me. I look at the merit based accomplishments. That’s the only worthy criteria in business.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies. “Well, then, I better get back to my work. I have used up my 15 minutes. Thank you, Christian,” she says with a wide smile on her face as she walks away, clicking her high heels on the marble floors.

I open the envelope.

“Four Seasons Seattle – Room 407. We can talk more about movies and Paris if you so desire.”

I tear the note up in pieces, and toss it in the trash.

I take my Blackberry out and dial.

“Yes boss?”

“I expect your best performance in your particular lesson of class distinction. But, don’t establish equality. Only superiority.”

“And do you have a response to her, uhm, message?” she says with no compunction.

“I’m irrevocably taken. We only do business at GEH. Anything less than utmost professionalism becomes the grounds for refusal of their business proposal.” 

“I’d be absolutely delighted to pass the message,” Ros says and I can hear her grin on my Blackberry.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

“How are you Mrs. Grey?” I ask as Anastasia slides into the back of the SUV. A shy smile creeps up her lips.

“I’m fine, Mr. Grey. Did you have a pleasant day?” she asks.

“After having lunch with my wife, and getting certain promises from her, I think my day will only get better, Anastasia,” I murmur with a lascivious grin. I take her hand into mine then pull her into my arms.

“I have missed you Mrs. Grey,” I whisper into her ear.

“In the last three hours? You have got it bad for me Mr. Grey. But then again, it’s only fair.”

“Why?”

“Because I got it worse.”

“How’s junior?”

“Just fine,” she says with wonder in her eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says shaking her head.

“Ana, it’s never 'nothing' with you. What?”

“Can’t a girl be in awe of her beautiful, sensitive, sensual, hot husband? That’s all…” she responds.

“Is that all, Mrs. Grey?”

“There’s more, but why spill it all at the same time.”

“Buckle up Mrs. Grey,” I mock reprimand her. I want both of you to be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” she responds making my cock twitch.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

Taylor drops us off in front of the elevators. Sawyer is driving the other SUV from SIP.

“Are you hungry?” I ask in the elevator, the heat of my gaze captivating her.

“Not for food.”

“Good, me neither.”

“Are you sure you want to go to the Playroom?” I ask.

“Are you going back on your word?” she asks anxiously.

“No. But, I want to make sure that this is what you want, not what you think I want.”

“Mr. Grey, I was under the impression that the Playroom was also mine. You said so yourself. ‘If you say yes, Anastasia, this whole Playroom can be yours.’ “ She says in a good imitation of my voice.

“What I’d love to do to your smart mouth,” I grin with wanton desire.

“I know what I want.”

“And what is that?”

“I want you to teach me how to gain control of my body so I don’t unexpectedly turn the control of my emotions over to others like this morning. I want you to take over that control for the next several hours so I cleanse my mental palette. I want you to pleasure me, and ask me to pleasure you. Make me, make us lose ourselves in each other…” she says and making my eyes darken, libido shoot through the roof, and my cock strain in my pants, aching to be buried inside my wife. I push my wife to the elevator wall and seal my lips over hers.

When the elevator doors ding open, I lace my fingers with hers and pull her out of the elevator.

Ignoring the household staff, I take my wife’s briefcase and drop it on the table in the foyer. Then pull her into our bedroom. Closing the door behind me with my foot, I turn to Anastasia.

“How do you feel?”

“Horny,” she responds drawing a half smile from me.

“Physically.” I amend.

“Quite well, Mr. Grey. All I want to do is to…”

“I know what you want, and we cater to all desires and flavors, Mrs. Grey. I just want to make sure that my wife can take what I have to offer her. So, let me ask you again. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, Christian!” she says rolling her eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes, Mrs. Grey! I want you to go to the Playroom, take off everything but those delectable Louboutins and your panties. I have been dreaming those heels around my shoulders, my waist or my ass all day.” Her mouth drops open.

“Run along now, and sit as I have shown you by the door,” I say as I swat her behind hard. She yelps.

“Ow!”

“What?”

“Yes, sir!” she responds as she hurries to the Playroom.

I quickly divest myself of my suit, tie, shirt, boxers, shoes and socks. I bring out my washed out, ripped jeans and put them on. Leaving the top button open, I make my way to the kitchen. Filling a glass with ice, I take a bottle of chilled Sancerre and make my way to the Playroom. When I enter, I find Anastasia sitting by the door, naked except for her panties and her high heels. Her head is down, and her hands are splayed on her knees. Wordlessly I make my way to the chest. Put the glass of ice and the bottle of Sancerre. I carefully choose the toys I want to utilize for this scene. Then I slowly make my way to the stereo.

When the music starts playing, Anastasia’s head snaps up and her gaze meets mine when Michael Buble and Laura Pausini start singing “You'll never find another love like mine,” a reminiscence of our honeymoon reminding her that no one can love her as much as I can.

Michael Buble and Laura Pausini - You'll Never Find

I lift her up off the floor, and wrapping her hair around my wrist, I kiss her hard, sucking on her lower lip, then thrusting my tongue into her mouth stroking her warm velvety mouth. When I pull back we’re both breathless.

“Turn around,” I order.

“Yes, sir,” she responds breathless.

I braid her hair as she silently extends the tie to secure the end of the braid.

“Anastasia, we are here because you decided to secede the control of your body and mind to me this afternoon. But, you’re my wife. So, anytime it’s too much, I just want you to say, ‘stop’ and I will. No safe words, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she responds in a breathy voice.

“Good girl. I will teach you how to gain control of your body and eventually your mind.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“What do you want Anastasia?”

“You decide, sir. I…” she says hesitantly. “I want to give the control over to you this evening.”

“Are you sure? Tell me to stop when it gets too intense, and I will.”

“Yes, sir,” she responds in a breathy anticipation.

I bring out the leather cuffs which are soft but good restraining devices. Seeing the spreader bar, her eyes widen with excitement and anticipation.

“Come,” I say and take her by the hand. “Lean face down this table.” She obeys immediately.

I spread her legs only a foot apart with my feet. I rub her beautiful buttocks and then spank her hard once. She moans in response.

“Hush now. First part of control is to expect the unexpected.”

I slide her lacy panties down, slowly. My hands grazing over her toned thighs and legs, skating over her soft, flawless skin. They pool around her ankles. Lifting her feet one at a time, I divest her panties and toss them onto the leather chair. Pouring some massage oil into my palm, I carefully spread it between both hands. Grasping Anastasia’s ankles, I slowly glide up to her knees. I knead her legs sensually behind her knees. She gives out a barely restrained moan.

“Control, baby. I need you to control your urges. Delayed gratification not only teaches you,” I say as my fingers rise up on the column of her legs reaching the apex of her thighs, I dip a finger into her glistening, pink sex, “but also,” I add, “provides the maximum intensity,” I say as I spread her legs wide with my legs forcing them to stay apart as I dip a second and a third finger into her folds, gently circling, drawing out her pleasure, coating my fingers in her cream, “as well as maximum pleasure.”

I withdraw my fingers out of her, and put my head over her sex inhaling her scent deep. I pull her buttocks up and place my left hand right over her pubic bone presenting her sex from behind to my tongue ready to indulge in her sweet taste. I press her clitoris with the pad of my thumb while my tongue invades and conquers her sex, dipping and withdrawing several times. Each time she builds up ready to orgasm, I pull my tongue back and keep her pleasure at bay.

“Control, baby…”

“Please, Christian,” she begs.

“All in good time. Anticipate, wait, hold, and enjoy the buildup,” I murmur between each lick that pleasures her. Just as she reaches her peak, I pull her up in standing position.

“Now, stand with your back to my front,” I order. She obeys immediately. I blindfold her slowly caressing her cheeks, necks, earlobes as I kiss, nip and suck my way down to her throat.

“I want you to put your hands around my neck,” I whisper. She obeys.

Her breasts more curvaceous than ever with her pregnancy lift into my palms nicely. I run my newly oiled hands down her throat, over her breasts, between the mounds of her breast, to her belly, and over to her pubic bone and slowly make my way up again. She groans, and writhes beneath my touch.

“Control requires, absorbing the sensation, and finding that place in your mind where the intensity of the act will reach you only when you allow it,” I whisper. The soulful sound of a woman shouts wordless tunes singing “the Great Gig in the Sky”.

Great Gig in the Sky - Pink Floyd

“Feel my hands, but find that place in your mind, lock yourself in, and make me work to get to you. My reward is working hard to reach your pleasure points, not just here,” I murmur tugging both her nipples, rolling them between my thumbs and forefingers, eliciting another pleasured groan, and arching of her back into my palms.

“Or here,” I whisper lasciviously sucking her neck while my fingers work their magic inside her sex.

“I want to be in here,” I whisper kissing her tilted temple, “and here,” I slide my hand up between her breasts.

“I want you to surrender to me in such a way that you won’t be able to come without me telling you so. You need to submit that the control of your pleasure over to me.”

“Yes… aahhh…” she moans, “sir,” she adds.

My cock is straining against my soft jeans, ready to pleasure her. But this is to both of our benefit. My wife wants to learn to control herself as well as to surrender control this instance. I want to achieve just that.

I slowly walk her to the wooden cross with her arms around my neck and my cock straining against her buttocks.

“I will cuff your arms on the cross now Anastasia, but I will restrain your legs with the spreader bar,” I inform her. “But after that, I will give you no warning. Everything will be unexpected. You will need to hold your pleasure until I tell you to come, and not without me. Do you understand?” I ask. She nods.

“I need a verbal confirmation Anastasia,” I order.

“Yes, sir,” she responds in a breathy voice.

“And if it’s too intense?” I ask.

“I’ll tell you to stop, sir,” she responds.

“Good girl.”

I bring the glass with ice, and take one between my fingers. I slowly run it over one nipple which immediately perks up, drawing a stifled moan from Anastasia. I run the ice around her areola, and then accept her nipple into the warmth of my mouth creating a contrasting sensation. I suck her nipple deep and hard while I run the ice in the same direction as my tongue fellating the other nipple causing it perk up and strain for the attention of my mouth.  Anastasia pulls herself against the restrains, but she’s unable to move an inch. Slowly, I move onto the other nipple and give the same attention I have paid to her right nipple. Anastasia’ back arches as she trembles with anticipation and intense desire. I then take the ice between my teeth and run it up and down her torso. As I reach her waxed sex, the ice makes her shiver and make her beg.

“I need your cock! Please Christian! Inside me!” I take the ice into my fingers and run it over her nipples again.

“Control baby, find the place in your mind, and make me work to unlock the door to your mind.” She takes a deep, trembling breath. Finally I run the ice over her lips making her lick her lips and lick the ice chip. I lean down and kiss her hard, leaving her lips sore and wanton.

I take her favorite riding crop and run it over her breasts, sides, and finally dip it into her sex. She quivers in response.

“Pleasure and pain… not much different than one another,” I murmur sliding the riding crop out of her sex now shining with her cream.

“Ssssuck,” I order and she obeys immediately.

“Enough,” I say pulling the riding crop out of her eager mouth. I let it slide down her chin, neck, between the valley of her breasts, around her nipples, sides, and caressing her belly, making her hitch her breath. Then finally I lift the riding crop and start raining strikes against her sex, thighs, nipples, and buttocks, but never in succession, and unexpectedly without a pattern so she understand the concept of control. Pink Floyd’s song starts over again as Anastasia reaches her peak.

"Control the urge Ana!" I command as I finally start raining small but effective flicks over her clitoris.

“Christian, I can’t hold!”

“Yes, you can!”

“I can’t! I’m close!”

“Yes, you can! Yes, you can! Yes, you can! Hold it baby, until I tell you to come! Only when I tell you to come!” Her nipples pucker, and her face squeezes as if she’s concentrating somewhere else in her mind.

When I rain the fifteenth strike over her sex, “Come for me now!” I order and with a shattered breath, I feel the release roll out of her and spread to her entire body.

I quickly untie her hands, and carry my wife onto the bed. I put her face down on the bed, and quickly divest of my jeans. I lift Anastasia’s buttocks up in the air, and slap it twice, and strike over her sex once. Then I drive into her sex with one hard thrust, holding myself deep inside her, inside my wife where I wanted to be all day long.

Finally I ease out of her all the way to the tip slowly, making her feel every steely inch of me, then plunge into her again. Pull back out all the way and just insert the tip of my cock, coating it with her slick cream. Then finally I start thrusting in and out in rapid, animalistic succession. She supports herself on her elbows as I drive into her.

“Please, Christian… sir! I’m close!”

“No! not yet! Control it. Hold it, don't let it take over you!” She cries out with her body barely holding in the pleasure that is waiting at the precipice. Her sex is swollen, her opening is inviting, tight like a fisted glove. I move my cock deeper, drawing slickness from her core and rubbing it over her aching clit. She wants to close her legs, but the spreader bar is preventing her and letting her feel all the pleasure.

I push deeper, and lifting her buttocks up I find the secret location hiding her core pleasure. Angulating my hips, the tip of my cock strokes over the spot achingly slow.

“Christian!” she begs.

“Say my name again!”

“Christian! Christian! Christian! Christian Grey!”

“When. Do. You. Come?” I hiss through gritted teeth with each thrust.

“When you let me, sir!” she cries out. “Please…” she begs.

“Come for me now baby!” I shout, and she screams her orgasm as the soulful voice in the song also screams her ecstasy.

I come loudly, squirting my pleasure into her, filling her, declaring my love and my brand of ownership of my wife, I feel complete, and completely replete.

When we finally come back to our senses, I unbuckle the spreader bar from her legs, and rub her ankles.

“How was that for control?”

“Mind-blowing and thoroughly educational,” she murmurs before she falls asleep in my arms.

Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen.

Jamie Dornan - as Christian Grey