Book IV - Chapter XXI - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

CHAPTER XXI

I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W.B. Yeats

            “Christian! You framed this picture?” Anastasia says, her voice is accusatory.

            “I thought you’d be happy that I have a picture of blip next to his parents wedding picture. You shouldn’t be opposed to having our son’s,” I say emphasizing, “first pictures to be displayed in my own home office.”

            “Not that one!” she says rolling her eyes.

            “It has the profile as well… See,” I show her, “they’re side by side.”

            “Bottom and the top view?” she asks raising her eyebrows.

            I shrug nonchalantly.

            “You’re not embarrassed of this. Are you?” she asks narrowing her eyes. It's not a question, it's just a statement of fact.

            “Baby, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed of our son. Why should I be ashamed of my manhood or that our child is also a male like me? Besides it’s in my home office…”

            “Oooo-kay… let’s hear it…” she sighs knowing there’s more. “What did your dad and Elliott say?” she asks putting her hand on her back to support herself. I open my arms, and she walks into them, sitting on my lap.

            “Well, they thought it was amusing. You know Elliot. He will always have to some innuendo to inject into the conversation, but even he was speechless for a moment. Then of course, he recovered quickly and said he can see the Grey family resemblance in junior.”

            “But, you’re both adopted,” she replies.

            “Yes, but it is possible for us to be similar in that way. You haven’t heard Katherine complain about him after all. We, Grey men tend to be virile,” I say with a smirk. I leave out the part where Ethan Kavanagh looked like he swallowed a nasty bug.

            “That you are Mr. Grey,” she agrees nuzzling into me. “By the way,” she adds, “Ray liked his present you got him.”

            “We got him,” I correct her.  

            “Christian, I know nothing about fishing. You’ve done a good job choosing the fishing gear for him.”

            “I couldn’t get a good read on your taciturn step father on New Year’s eve. I thought he didn’t seem overly enthused about it.”

            “Did he give you this speechless face, and do this?” she says and gives me a slightly wide eyed look nodding her head.

            “Yeah…”

            “Well, that’s as close as Ray gets cartwheeling for joy. He was happy,” she says confidently, grinning wide.

            “If you say so Mrs. Grey,” I say and hold her tighter.

            “So, are you excited about going to New York tomorrow?” I ask her.  She furrows her brows for a moment. Is she not happy going to New York with me?

            “You’re not going to give me an excuse how you should be doing it on your own, are you?”

            “No…” she says mulling an idea in her head. “No, that’s not it.”

            “Spit it out Mrs. Grey. You worry me when you get this contemplative churning an idea in your head before you dish it out to me.”

            She rolls her eyes. “My hands still twitch, you know,” I say giving her devilish grin.

            “I know they do Mr. Grey. I believe you amply demonstrated that last night at Escala.”

            “Are you complaining?” I ask cocking my head.

            “No, no… More like salivating with the thought.”

            “God!” I hiss the word through my teeth. I seat her on my lap like she’s riding me.

            “Go ahead and say you mind before I decide to have you right here like this!” I threaten. She takes a deep breath.

            “I want to attend the ‘Writer’s Symposium’ just with my assistant. I don’t want to draw attention to myself with security around. You know, it’s New York City and I want to be able to just blend in. Nothing draws attention like professional bodyguards following you.”

            “Ana!” I start protesting.

            “Listen, Christian. I thought about it. It’s not that big of a deal. We’ll be out of town. No one would know me out there. I’d be just one of the crowd.”

            “Do you really think that you will be just one of the crowd? And you don’t want me coming along either?” I say too softly.

            “Well, I’d like to go with my assistant. And you can get business done while I’m at the Symposium. Besides it’s just a one day event. You’ll have me Monday. Then I go to the symposium on Tuesday, and you’ll have all week after that. That really is not a bad deal.” I groan inwardly. I have only a few months left to spend with my wife alone. Then it would be the three of us, forever. Why can’t she understand that I need, I crave this time with her? Just for a few more months?

            “Have you been to New York City?” I ask knowing I will not win an argument if I tell her straight away it’s for her safety.

New York New York - Frank Sinatra

            “No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to find my way. I’m 22 years old, Christian. Hannah’s been there twice!” she says as if this will convince me to give her the leeway to concede.

            “I see… A beautiful, pregnant woman like you all alone in a city like New York where there are homicides, rapes, robberies and aggravated assault on daily basis, you want me to let my pregnant wife loose in a city she’s never been? I don’t think so Mrs. Grey. You go with me and the security. That’s the end of the discussion.”

            “But, Christian!” she protests. “You’re, you know, you! This Greek god-like man! I don’t want half the man and all the women ogling my husband!” she says crossing her eyebrows.

            “Are you jealous Mrs. Grey?” I ask with a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

            “Maybe a bit,” she responds.

            “Baby, I only have eyes for you. Okay… The best I can do is that I take you to the event, but your security remains. Meanwhile I can just go to my own meeting. That way, we’re compromising,” I say giving her favorite word back to her. “You taught me that. You told me what you want, and I’m telling you what I can live with within the framework of your request. But, there’s no way in hell, I’m leaving you alone in a city like New York where there are other vultures.”

            “Christian, honestly! Who would want a pregnant woman when there are young, beautiful and available ones?”

            “Because, men find it challenging taking possession of a woman who belongs to someone else. You are mine!” I growl. “I don’t want anyone to make the effort.” I make a mental note to remind Melissa and Sawyer the three foot radius to keep the male colleagues away from her.

            “Okay, fine!” she replies, breathing through her nose. She's really mad. “It wouldn’t be that bad if you agreed some of my wants.”

            “I agree with a lot of your wants. But what you demand right now is beyond what I am capable of agreeing. That’s why we call it a compromise. And besides, you would want swift transportation in New York because if you are utilizing public transportation I find it unsafe and they’re complicated. You’ll get lost. Not to mention it's winter and cold right now. Our apartment isn’t that close to the Symposium.”

            “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Okay, fine!” she says, acquiescing. “Since New York trip is your gift, I agree to the security. I'll just be with my assistant aaand my security at the symposium. You can go to your own meeting. But, you haven’t said anything about my gift so far. Haven’t you given any thought to it yet?” she asks. I know what she means. She wants to know about the baby's name. I have a way to get what I want.

            “I have a list compiled already. Would you like to give me your opinion?” I ask. She rolls her eyes again then extends her hand.

            “Just give it to me Christian!”

            “Oh, I’d love to give it to you Mrs. Grey,” I smirk. I finally hand her the list. Her eyes widen with the first name on the list.

      1.      Thaddeus

      2.      Agustin

      3.      Quinten

      4.      Graysen

      5.      Howard

      6.      Theodore

      7.      Legend

      8.      Roderick

      9.      Reuben

      10.  Maxton

      11. Barnabas

      12. Porter

      13. Bastian

      14. Jagger

      15. Locklyn

Oh shit! What if my plan backfires? She’s not saying anything yet. After getting over her shock, “Thaddeus?” she finally asks. “What would the nick name be for that? Thad? Why don’t we just pin a ‘kick me’ sign on blip’s back? That’s what he’s going to get at school with names like that,” she says shaking her head.

            “There isn’t a single name you like in the list?” I ask nervously.

            “I kind of like Graysen. But it would sound awkward with Graysen Grey. Quinten sounds too morbid. I’m always going to think that director who makes scary movies. Howard is out. Legend? Oh, no! Roderick, hell no! Rueben sounds like a sandwich. Maxton? Pffff!" she lets out a big breath. "Really, Christian? Barnabas is out. I don’t think that name existed since the time of the Bible! Porter sounds like we want our kid to be a porter… no! Bastian… agh!” She groans loudly. “Christian, Bastian? How much thought did you put into these names? Who is Bastian anyway?” she asks exasperated. “You must have been inspired by someone to come up with these names, but I don’t remember hearing any of them from you. Jagger sounds like Mick Jagger and though I like his music, I don’t want that name to be associated with our baby. Locklyn is unique. I might. Hmmm…” she says displeased.

            “Mrs. Grey, you’re wounding my ego!” I say trying to hide my hurt. “Can’t you be any less critical or show some open mind to my choices. After all, you said to make a list of my favorite names and that you would choose the one you liked.”

            She hasn’t said anything about my favorite name. But then she may have liked two of the names in the list which I didn’t count on. I don’t want any of those names except one.

            “Theodore Grey… Theodore Grey… Teddy, Ted…” She’s mulling the name in her head, voicing it out loud. Hope rises in me. “Where did you get that name? It sounds familiar,” she says.

            “Grandpa Trevelyan’s first name,” I murmur shrugging. Her lips lift up in one corner. She now knows that it’s the name I prefer.

            “It’s a sophisticated name, yet it is also modern. Teddy, Ted… Yes, I like it. It’s between Grayson and Theodore but Grayson wouldn’t go so well with Grey. Maybe it might..." She's toying with me. I hold my breath. She finally grins. "Okay, okay, Theodore, then,” she says.

            “God, Mrs. Grey! I love you so much!” I hiss as I hold her face to kiss her. It’s an urgent kiss, passionate, full of love and possessive.

            “Mine!” I growl into her lip when I kiss her. Her fingers lace into my hair, tugging and pulling me into her. I groan.

            “Oh, Mrs. Grey, I want to have you now, but we need to decide on the middle name,” I murmur.

            “Now?” she asks in a whiny voice. I don’t like to leave any business unfinished, and I would like to resolve the name issue right now. Besides, she’s more agreeable if her mind is on sex.

            “Okay, but we’re getting back to where we left off once we decide,” she protests.

            “I was thinking, since the first name was from my family, would you like the middle name from yours? Your birth father or maybe Ray’s name?”

            “Oh,” she says as a soft whimper escapes her lips. “Christian, that’s very thoughtful. But, I never met my birth father. My mother always says he was wonderful, but to me, he’s this mythical man. I don't want her to cry every time she hear's the baby's middle name. Ray raised me. He’s my dad; he is the one I counted on. And I noticed that you didn’t suggest Carrick’s name,” she makes a note.

            “I love my dad, but this is our baby. I’ve used my grandfather’s name for our son’s first name. I think it’s only fair that you get to choose a name for his middle name,” I tell her. 

            “Theodore Raymond Grey. Yeah, it has a certain noble ring to it. I love it!” she says clapping her hand. “I thought we’d end up giving him two first names and two middle names considering all the people we like,” she smiles.

“We don’t want blip to take five years to learn his names. Theodore Raymond Grey it is then.”

“I’m very pleased with our choices Christian! You’ve done marvelous as always, Mr. Grey. And don’t think that I didn’t know what you were doing," she mutters with a glint in her eyes. "I got your measure already Grey.” she smirks at me.

“Are you smirking at your husband, Mrs. Grey? That will never do.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Grey. After how agreeable I’ve been today, I think you can afford me a little leeway. I think as a reward for being a very understanding wife today, maybe you and I can go look for a crib for Teddy?” she asks sweetly as she places small kisses on my cheeks and lips. 

            “Well, we had his room painted to powder blue and the decorator was supposed to help us to pick up the furnishing pieces,” I remind her.

            “Yes, I know but I want us to go and browse in the stores. Look for little clothes, and things that we would need for him. But I want to shop for a crib for our baby. I think we should choose that piece together without being suggest from a list of items our decorator’s catalogue.”

            “Whatever you want, baby. Now, about that love making session I promised…” I say as I ride the bottom of her short night gown up and slowly, savoring the vision of my wife, I take it off her. I come face to face with the half-moon arches of her heavenly breasts. The curve of her pregnant belly is touching me. I caress her belly carrying our child. Momentarily I lift her up and get up off my seat. I carry her to the armchair on the other side of my desk.

            “Christian, I want to make love to you!” she protests.

            “No baby. You need to be worshiped and I intend to do just that!” I say my gaze darkening. I want to enjoy her with complete abandon. I stand Anastasia in front of the armchair.

“Let’s divest your panties off,” I say and kneel before my wife and slowly, reverentially slide off the panties and let her walk out of them. Anastasia’s hair falls in cascades over her breasts and her beautiful back. Right now, she looks very much like the statue of Aphrodite, a pregnant version of her. I raise my gaze up to her from her waist height as I’m sitting on my knees. It creates a sea of madness inside me, churning up a tsunami of emotions. I want to kiss every inch of her body.

“Sit!” I order, and she obeys. Slowly deposits herself into the seat.

“I want you to hold the high back of the chair,” I command. She holds the sides of the back.

“No, the top of it,” I order. She slowly, sensually moves her hands above her head, and she grasps the top of the high back of the armchair. Her arms above her thrusts her heavy breasts forward and her nipples bead in need, begging for attention.

“Legs…apart,” I murmur my next order. Anastasia looks at me her lips slightly part.

“Make me!” she says in a husky voice laced with wanton desire and crosses her legs or attempts to cross them with her pregnant belly impeding her attempt. She settles for crossing her ankles just as tempting. I arch my eyebrows.

“Mrs. Grey, are you goading me?”

“I prefer the word ‘seduce’, Mr. Grey,” she responds batting her eyelashes.

“I’m a given for seduction, Ana. Now that you raised the stakes by challenging me…” I say and kneel before her and grasp her ankle and lift it up it my lips. She writhes in her seat.

“Don’t move or I’ll tie you up, baby!” I warn her. “Let me just worship you,” I murmur. With that her breathing increases, her chest rises and falls rapidly, with it her breasts.

I hold her foot and graze her instep with my teeth.

“Aaahhh!” she groans curling her toes. But I don’t stop. Tip of my tongue runs on her arch to her toe. I fellate her toe with my tongue then confine it within the warm wetness of my mouth and suck it deep and hard, both promising and threatening her about what is to come to every inch of her body.  She knows and nearly convulses with that single point of erotic connection. I then run my thumb on the outer edge of her foot, finally grazing her instep with my nail. That single act makes her open her leg wide open for me. Her ankles and behind her knees are particularly erogenous. When I suck the cartilage on her ankle she’s in a sea of madness.

Tonight - Enrique Iglesias

“Oh, please, Christian!”

“Patience baby, let me savor you,” I murmur as I trail kisses behind her leg making my way up to her knees. When I come to her knees, I slightly lift her leg up, and suck behind her knee. Her leg immediately stiffens and she shouts in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck! Christian!”

I continue to nip, suck and lick my way up to her inner thighs. When I reach nearly the apex of her thighs, I grab her other leg and repeat my ministrations. When my lips reach to her sex, Anastasia drapes one of her legs onto my shoulder. I push the other leg and place it on the arm of the chair. Her sex is amazingly glistening with the evidence of her arousal. But purposefully, I don’t dip my tongue into her. I run my fingers through her slit and coat the blooms of her sex with her wetness. She thrusts her hips into my fingers. My hands immediately squeeze her buttocks to warn her against moving.

“Stop! I don’t want this to be over quickly. Savor it. Hold it in. Prolong the pleasure. Let it build up, raise the level of intensity, then only when I tell you so, you detonate your pleasure, baby.” She’s panting, her eyes wide, her irises dilated fully. She can only nod her acquiescence. I tease her clitoris with the tip of my tongue and simultaneously I plunge my middle finger into her sex. Curving my finger at the knuckle, I locate the front wall of her vagina and deliberately keep her on the precipice, but not triggering her orgasm, just letting her build up. Then I cover her clit with my mouth and suck it hard and again leave her without reaching her climax. It’s the amount of surge, the erotic charge that accumulates that yields to the biggest orgasm fueled by many different erotic sensations. My lips move to her pubic bone to her protruding belly and to her belly button where I linger and pay close attention to pleasure. With my free hand I caress her hip bones after I drape her leg on my shoulder onto the arm of the chair. My lips and kisses make my way up to her sternum and in the valley between her breasts. They ache for attention but I avoid them. I have other plans for them.

Anastasia automatically gives me access to her neck by arching it. My lips and tongue travel their way up to chin and her lips seek mine greedily merging. She moves one of her hands to my hair, but I grasp it and put it back on top of the chair. My lips move against hers first, nipping and sucking. My erection is straining against my pajamas, but I too must hold for the right moment. I want to kiss her roughly, possessively, worshiping, expressing what I feel for her in the most ardent manner. My body demands to take over. Yet I hold my desire back. My tongue meets hers. She’s the one who plunged into my mouth with her velvety soft licks. Showing me what she is demanding from me. Her tongue makes the plunging motions but I won’t let her top from the bottom. My tongue reciprocates in our sensual tango. I dip into her mouth, uninvited, yet very welcome. My plunges are deeper, extremely sexual, making her wetter. Her skin grows hotter. Anastasia moans deep, thrusting her breasts further. I extract my finger from her sex and my hands cup her sensitized breasts. I roll her nipples between my forefinger and thumb right at the line of pleasure and pain. She moans loudly.

I pull back and focus my attention on her breasts, thumbs kneading and stroking across, watching her watch me with hot, lascivious eyes, breathing laboriously. Her look back at me is also challenging to make this rougher and harder. The desire I feel for her is so intense, I couldn’t walk move even if the world was falling apart. She owns me. Right now, I want her to scream my name with pleasure. I want her to be so consumed with me even if it’s a fraction of the way I’m consumed with her, so that she think nothing else, but just the two of us.

“Watch me,” I say and quickly divest my t-shirt and pajama pants. Then clutching to her breast with my lips, I worship her. My fingers imitate my tongue strokes on the other breast. One last deep pull as I roll her nipple between my teeth, and she screams my name with her drowning pleasure.

“I’m damned and saved by you, Anastasia. You have no idea what you do to me,” I murmur. I lift her up, switching seats with her; I let her sit on my cock with her back to my chest. That way it’s easy on her belly.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” I hiss my command through my gritted teeth. With one swift thrust, I’m inside her soaking sex.

“I want it rough and deep!” she groans as her sex squeezes my cock light a tight fist. Jesus Christ! This pregnancy made my already hungry wife ravenous for sex! I grasp her hips and control my strokes. If it’s up to Anastasia this would already be over. I want her to learn to prolong the pleasure and let its intensity grow exponentially. I grind into her and she trembles in my arms. She tilts her head back and her arms reach back and lace behind my head, giving complete and free access to her neck and her breasts. I lift her up and let her fall back onto the heavy rope between my legs. As she falls back, I spear into her, repeatedly. I capture her earlobe between my teeth and tug it and then lick the shell of her ear, then trail kisses over her neck and her shoulder. My hands are both pleasuring her breasts, and exerting just enough pain like she’s being tugged by clothes pins.

“Christian, I’m close!” she pants.

“No! You’re! Not!” I counter, thrusting into her all the while. “Not. Until. I. Tell. You!”

“Please!” she begs.

“Hold! It!” I keep on pushing her to her limits again, let her build up.

“When do you come?”

“When you tell me to… Aaaaah! Come!” she says trying her hardest to hold back the pleasure.

“Yessss! Come for me baby!” shout, and that’s when she allows her pleasure to detonate, shuddering and writhing in my arms. I follow her three seconds later shouting her name, completely replete. Will I ever get enough of her? Just when I think I might reach the precipice of getting my fill for the hour, I’m craving her more. Deeper harder, seeking a soul deep connection. She’s my other half. The part whose absence would make me simply go insane, the part that keeps me somewhat tamed and human. I am so fucking in love with her!

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

A perfect example of minority rule is a baby in the house.

            “Mrs. Grey, we need to check the store for safety before I allow you to enter,” Melissa said in her no nonsense tone.

            “Melissa, it’s a big store, people will come in. You cannot possibly check everyone in there!” Anastasia protests.

            “Anaaa!” I chide her in a slightly exasperated tone.

            “Why couldn’t they have done this before we came here?” she asks.

But, I know exactly why. This is the new method they’re using: the safety rings. They’re only opening a certain perimeter of safety ring by blending into the crowd like they too are regular shoppers whereas Sawyer and Melissa are connected and Taylor and Reynolds are holding the inner perimeter.

            Taylor holds his ear, as he hears Sawyer’s confirmation. He exits the car and opens my door. Reynolds does the same for Anastasia. Ryan is at the home duty today since Reynolds and Ryan are on rotation. This is all for extra precaution because the paparazzi is now chasing Anastasia to get pregnancy pictures and to get a glimpse of her pregnancy style or find us together to see how she’s treated. It only raises Anastasia’s stress level. Even a simple outing to a store becomes a massive chore. Currently, Anastasia is more popular among the paparazzi than Prince William’s prospective wife Kate for having captured my heart and getting pregnant right after. I do not like this one bit, and it’s keeping our security on alert at all times. We’ve had several brush offs with them since I was engaged to Ana some of which were completely unpleasant. I don’t want them to scare my wife and put her and our baby’s lives in danger. The momentary discomfort is worth the safety it provides.

            Taylor drove us to the only store with the safest cribs that links new and emerging technologies to monitor the baby’s local environment. I’ve read that a number of babies die due to sudden infant death syndrome. I’d like to prevent that at all cost. There are some crib systems that integrates the air circulation, video monitor as well as a built in lifting system to pick the baby up. It will help Anastasia right after she gives birth. Because, I don’t want her to strain herself to lift little Teddy. This one particular model I have researched also automatically rocks the baby to help with sleeping patterns. Now, it’s only getting Anastasia agree with it because she might just opt for the style of the crib foregoing the safety features this particular one I liked.

            Anastasia is surprised when she sees the size of the store. It’s three stories of only baby items from strollers to cribs to clothes, bottles and other knick knacks that I need to learn to identify. The store manager greets us right away.

            “What a pleasure to have you here, Mrs. And Mr. Grey!” she gushes. “How may we help you today?”

            “We’re going to look at the cribs and bassinets.”

            “Of course! I’d be happy to show them to you and explain their functions. Is there any brand or style in particular you prefer?” she asks.

            “We,” Anastasia says looking at me for my agreement, “prefer a color that may go with just about anything.

            “No rich or deep colors, then?” the manager asks looking at me, a little flustered. I, in turn look at my wife deferring the answer to her.

            “No, not in our baby’s room.”

            “I see ma’am. Are you shopping for a boy or girl? Sometimes styles vary depending on the baby’s gender. Quite a few parents have fallen in love with our Cinderella series with the carriage shaped cribs,” she says walking us towards the cribs. “Or, if you prefer it for boys, then we have race car shaped cribs which are quite popular among the expecting first time fathers of little baby boys.”

            “I don’t want something gender specific. What we want is a safe, functional as well as a stylish crib.”

            She walks us to various styles, color choices as well as price ranges.

            “How about that one?” I point to an unopened box of a modern looking crib.

            “We haven’t set the floor model up for it yet. It just arrived from London. Apparently, it’s one of the safest models not only in Europe, but the world. As you can see from the box, it has quite a few modern safety features. Because it deviates from the traditional cribs, it scares some parents. Because, they want parenting to be as organic as possible, sometimes quite a few security features make the first time parents a little over anxious. It may take away from the experience,” she says trying to lead us to a frillier model.

            “Open it, and set it up. Let’s see the ease of use and I want Mrs. Grey to be able to see all its features before we make a decision,” I say with a commanding voice. She clears her throat.

            “Of course, Mr. Grey,” she gushes. “I’ll have to get one of our handymen. They take a lot shorter than I do in setting them up,” she says with a compulsory smile. “Excuse me please, Mrs. and Mr. Grey. I’ll go get our tech!” she says stumbling on her words as she leaves our company. 

            “What was that about?” Anastasia asks.

            “Anastasia, I want our baby to be safe. He’s not going to the castle ball like Cinderella. I’m looking at these and seeing all kinds of way the baby can hurt himself when he manages to stand up on his own or you for that matter trying to get him out of the crib. They forgo certain safety features to add style!” I say.

            “Christian, I’m sure FDA or whoever is looking into the safety of these items approved them for sale.”

            “Ana, your old Beetle was also allowed to be on the road even though it was a complete death trap. When it comes to you or our baby, bare minimum is unacceptable. I want the safest. I’ve read that over 2000 babies die from SIDS and that’s mainly because of unsafe sleeping practices. No! I’m an anxious parent. Our child has to be in safe!”

            “I agree!”

            “Besides, I thought you wanted a color that matched with everything…. And…” then it dawns on me that she may have agreed with me on something. “What did you just say?” I ask shocked.

            “I said I agree with you Mr. Grey,” she says with a smirk.

            “Are you smirking at me Mrs. Grey?”

            “I am, Mr. Grey,” she says biting her lower lip, then she gets her voice to a whisper and leans up to my ear, “But, I know you aren’t going to do anything about it because I am with you 100% when it comes to Teddy’s safety. And right now, I think you are so damn hot when you are fervently protecting our baby, if we weren’t in a store, I’d ask you for a repeat performance of this morning, right here, right now!”

            God damn it, Ana! She is arousing me so publicly, inconveniently and so fucking suddenly. I give out a low growl.

            “Taylor!” I shout.

            “Yes, sir,” he appears beside us.

            “Have the store delivered this particular brand and model to the big house. No need to set it up,” I say without breaking my gaze away from Anastasia.

            “Certainly, sir,” he says.

            “We’ll go and browse other items. We don’t need the manager’s escort,” I say. I need to walk this erection off without the prying eyes.

            “Come, Mrs. Grey,” I say tugging her in the same tone when I say ‘come’ when she’s beneath me. She slowly exhales her breath and follows me.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

The Enemy Territory

Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

            This is the fifth burner phone he is using. Each call required a new one. He didn’t want to leave any trails after all. He is a predator learning each and every move of his enemy. He underestimated him. He had all these years to study him and yet he didn’t. He was too confident; too arrogant that such a blow and defeat could come from that scrawny boy whom he heard didn’t even manage to speak until he was six years old. In those years, he thought that Christian had mental deficiencies. Well, if someone was as fucked as he was as a child, it stood the reason for him to be mentally scarred for life, didn’t it? Those ones would either become sociopaths, criminals or completely go the other way around and become some meek individual with no backbone. The rare few would become the ruthless in their chosen field, like himself, he thought. 

             Oh, he had hatred for him alright. But he also had a devious fascination and decided to understand his prey inside out. How did the boy who was a charity case for his former wife/sub became the master of the universe he lived in? He would find out and defeat him with his own weapons in his own fucking game and do it so slowly and most painfully.

            “The report!” he barked into the burner simply in his ever present deep commanding voice, ordering, leaving no questions about his expectations. He would like to think that if there ever was a god, that’s what he would have sounded like. He expected weekly reports from his hired gun. Sometimes they were in an anonymous digital format which crossed at least five different locations to be delivered to him. Pictures, sounds, videos... He needed to know his prey’s routines, means, travels, the way in which he coddled his wife or all that he cared for. But he already firmly and rightfully decided that the wife was the way to hit him. From the news circulating on the papers and his ears on the ground confirmed that the bitch nearly got killed to save her sister-in-law. Imagine what she would do to save him?

He never liked the emotion of love. He firmly believed that it’s one of men’s greatest weaknesses and for those unfortunate enough to have enemies, a great tool to stab you with. Nothing and no one would hurt as much as the pain inflicted by or through one you loved ones. In fact, if he did it correctly, he would leave his enemy in eternal torment for the kingdom to come and when he delivered the final blow, he would know that it was him who fucked his life over, just like he did to him! But until that moment came, he needed to get to know the enemy. If he was going to catch the tiger by the tail, he better know how fucking snuff the life out of that said tiger.

            “His jet is getting prepped to leave to New York. The whole package is going to be on it, including four of his dogs. Do you want me to install a small gift to be delivered midway through their destination?”

            Was this fucking psycho an idiot? Way to alert the Homeland Security by blowing up his plane in mid-flight! He’s been a fucking mercenary outside the country far too long. He didn’t want a federal crime! He wanted it to be personal. And how would snuffing the life out of Grey, his wife and dogs be fun in this method? He wouldn’t get to tell him he was the one who fucked him!

            “No! We stick to my plan! You do not move, make decisions or even breathe without my permission. We wait. I will deliver the final blow. You are just the means in which to get me to that point. That’s what you’re being paid for. Excessively, I might add.”

            “You’re the boss, but there are ways to make it look like an accident.”

The boss squeezes the bridge of his nose as if to ward off the oncoming headache. What a fucking idiot! Grey’s chopper was sabotaged by Hyde. Did he really think that a second aircraft incident would be accounted as an accident? And how original was that, really? Why would he, the master dominant, copy an incompetent, angry idiot with no evident self-control like Hyde?

            “I want his and his wife’s schedule for the next six months. You will get it for me and do it stealthily. I make the plans and I tell you when to deliver those plans.” He knew all warfare is based on deception. If he were to be victorious in this plan, he couldn’t have been hasty like he did with Hyde. In order for him to win, he had to win first; the game had to be check mate in his mind before he started it, before he started his war against Grey. Because, only defeated warriors went to war first then seek to win like the way he did last time. This was different. This was a winner-takes-all game. All the pieces had to fall in the right place.

            “His schedule? I can follow him and know the routine, but it would cost you more for me to get his schedule from a company with as many layers of server protection in his computer systems as the Pentagon!”

            “You never go to the main gate if you were to storm a fort! Didn't that teach you in whatever secret government organization you were a part of? You find a tunnel, a Trojan horse to ride in. You have one already. The SIP’s system is the way to do it.”

            “I tried. It’s been overhauled.” He really was exasperating. 

            “Must I spell it out for you? They accept manuscript submissions. All you have to do it is to create a tunnel which is not a virus at all. Then you deliver the virus through the tunnel you’ve created. You don’t have to infect anything. In fact, why don’t you just crack her assistant’s smart phone? That would be the best way to enter into their system. You deliver the tunnel to her smart phone, and once she’s in the SIP Wi-Fi, you download Grey’s wife’s schedule. As far as the computer system is concerned, you, the Trojan horse will appear as her assistant, and the machines are not humans. They don’t get suspicious of other machines. Only if you fuck up, that is! They only see her phone and it’s friendly to the SIP system. Tie your tunnel into Grey’s wife’s email or smart phone then you are linked to Grey directly!” he says exasperated. The line on the other side is silent for a moment.

            “That…actually just might work brilliantly!” his henchman says. Of course it can! Because he was the one who thought of it!  

            “If they’re both out of town tomorrow, it might be the best time to work on the assistant’s phone. I want updates next week, same day, and same time. Meanwhile you continue to deliver your scheduled reports. Are you riding behind the Calvary tomorrow?” he asks implying if he’s flying after the Greys to New York.

            “Yes, sir, to both counts. Right after I deliver the bridge to the assistant,” the henchman responds in his deep voice. The boss finally presses the ‘End’ button on the burner. Takes the battery and the SIM card out breaking it into pieces, and then tosses the whole thing over the pier and into the ocean and walks away.

Hi Girls! Chapter 22 is coming up in the next couple of hours. Needs editing. Thanks for your patience!