Book IV - Chapter XXIII - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

CHAPTER XXIII

Never interrupt your enemy when he’s making a mistake.

Napoleon

HANNAH

The overhead sound of the captain jolts Hannah from her uneasy slumber in her Business Class seat. John eyes her surreptitiously in the dim light of the aircraft.

“…we’re approaching John F. Kennedy Airport. It is currently 25 degrees at our destination and the local time is 1:10 a.m. We know you had your choices of airlines when it comes to air travel. We thank you for flying with American Airlines and hope to see you soon…” the pilot goes on giving instructions to the flight attendants. John has already packed his items, and the last item, his iPad carefully tucked in the front pouch of his padded backpack. He puts his seat in the upright position getting ready to disembark the plane.

The whining babies can be heard in the back of the plane and John barely has patience for them. Luckily he’s sitting in the front and he won’t have to encounter them. When the plane lands and decelerates across the runway, he turns his iPhone on and syncs it with his iPad. Several other passengers are turning their phones on and informing their loved ones, friends or family members of their arrival. He waits for Hannah to pack her few items and turn her smart phone on. Once she’s online, her phone appears as a dot on his map and he inwardly smiles.

‘Gate established,’ he thinks to himself. When the plane comes to a complete stop at the gate, he slowly gathers his jacket on, grabs his backpack and his only luggage, the small carry-on. He gives Hannah a dazzling smile, and indicates with his hand that she can have the right of way first. Hannah smiles back, overwhelmed. They both walk out to the curb where there are no cabs to be had as other latecomers grab them or “Out of Service” signs is lit.

John takes a step off the sidewalk and steps in front of a cab with “Out of Service” sign lit. The driver reluctantly stops and opens the driver’s window to yell at him. John takes three hundred Dollar bills holding it between his index and middle finger making it evident that he is going to make it his worthwhile. The driver immediately shuts his mouth.

“Plaza Athenee Hotel,” he says just loud enough that Hannah can hear it. She’s holding onto her coat tight and her legs are freezing in her silk stockings and her pencil skirt. That’s her hotel!

“Wait, wait, wait! Please,” she shouts. John lifts her head up with a surprised look as if this was totally unexpected.

“I’ll share the cab with you. I’m going to that hotel as well!” Hannah says rushing to the cab, already losing the feeling of her toes and kicking herself for not being fully prepared for the New York weather.

The driver lifts his hands up in surrender. “No skin off my back, young fella!” he says and pops his trunk open. He places Hannah’s luggage and closes the trunk. John opens the cab’s door for the very grateful Hannah. The warm heat of the cab greets her from penetrating ice cold wind.

“Isn’t someone picking you up?” Hannah asks once John enters into the cab.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting from one place to another. Then again, no one’s picking you up either,” he notes.

“I didn’t have time to plan for a pickup. I was in a hurry,” Hannah says, trying to check her e-mails smart phone and sends a quick response to Ana informing her she’s in New York and with the manuscripts and that she’s on her way to her hotel. They would see each other tomorrow. Then she tucks her phone back into her purse. She then turns her tired gaze to the handsome profile who is looking outside the cab. Straight nose, slightly curved lip, strained jaw. Why? Stressed? Upset. The curve of his lip says he’s pleased with something, but he also seems tense.  She clears her throat, he turns towards him.

“Thank you… Again,” she says. “I was rude earlier.”

“Earlier? Would that be when you were getting on the cab or at the airport back in Seattle?” he asks.

“I’m sorry. Both,” she says chagrined. “I’d freeze my butt off if you didn’t share your cab, and you helped me out at the airport. I was unkind. So,” she says lifting her hands up, “I apologize… John.”

“I’ll accept the apology if we could have a drink together,” he responds.

“Uhm… I have to work… I have a conference, a symposium” she corrects herself, “to attend.”

“All day and all night?” John asks raising a quizzical brow with a slight curve of his lip.

“I don’t know if my boss wants me to accompany her in the evening. I couldn’t promise,” she replies. John scoffs as if it doesn’t matter to him one way or the other.

“Then, you can’t surely expect me to accept an insincere apology. Words mean nothing if they’re not backed with actions,” he says and turns his determined chin to cold the darkness of the city with street lights trying to break through the descending fog. He’s handsome, he was helpful on more than one occasion, and she has been an ass to him. Hannah feels chagrined. She takes out a business card.

“My cell phone is on it. I have to be prepared for the conference all day tomorrow. Call me after 7 p.m.” she says extending the card. When he doesn’t turn, she adds, “Please. I am willing to back my apology with actions. I am truly sorry for being an ass. I’ve been ungrateful and unkind. Please! My treat!”

“Apology accepted,” he says turning to her with a dazzling smile and takes the card, slightly brushing her hand.

‘Bated and snagged,’ he says internally smiling. ‘I’ll reel her in so fast, her head will spin!’

NEW YORK STATE OF MIND

New York State of Mind - Billy Joel

Something keeps softly tapping into my palm, first rhythmically then impatiently. It’s certainly not painful but insistent enough to wake me up. I slightly open my eyes; it’s still dark. The only light in the room is from the flickering dance of the fire in the fireplace. Ana is sleeping my arms; my legs are tangled with hers. One of my arms is cradling her head while my other arm is on her belly. The tapping continues under my palm. It’s not tapping. The baby is kicking. The baby’s kicking? He’s kicking my hand! My son is kicking. Excitement and anxiety immediately courses through me, running a shot of adrenaline through my veins. I sit up immediately jolting Anastasia in the process. She groans and turns onto her back and then cracks her eyes open.

“Hi,” she whispers, but then her dim light shows the change in her expression as sleep slowly parts her face. “What’s wrong?” she asks as she sees the shocked expression on my face.

“Nothing’s wrong. Our baby woke me up. He’s been kicking. Feel it,” I say in awe and bring her hand over her belly. “Our little Blip is awake and wants to play with his parents,” I whisper reverently.

“Teddy,” Anastasia corrects me. “Teddy wants to play,” she smiles.

“Hi Teddy,” I say suddenly hovering over my beautiful wife. I lean down to her protruding belly, and gently push away her gossamer nightgown. I rub my wife’s pregnant belly and kiss the spot he’s been kicking non-stop. I’ve not bothered to put her panties after the last night’s bed tango for possibly a morning sex. But, right now, our baby’s got my attention.

“Are you playing soccer in there?” I ask smiling.

“He’s his father’s son. Probably kickboxing like his daddy,” Ana smirks.

“Are you smirking at me, Mrs. Grey?”

“Yes, I am, Mr. Grey, but in a good way. Our child has been very active and he seems to be keeping late hours. As I recall, you used to do that. Get up in the middle of the night to cause a ruckus with your dreadful piano playing,” she says in a teasing tone. My face takes a mock horror.

“I had no idea you thought my piano playing was dreadful. How shall I punish you for that insult?” I ask tickling her. She starts giggling.

“Oh, Christian! Please!” Then she laughs hard nearly tearing up.

“I take it back! I take it back! You play wonderfully!” Big laughter… How I love that sound. “I was just teasing you!” Her laughter continues.

“I just love that sound,” I say totally enamored with my wife as I stop my ministrations. “I’ll stop but only because I don’t want my son to decide to get out and join his mother in teasing me before his time."  I lean down again and kiss her belly. And continue kissing her as I make my way upward towards her chest. She gasps arching her neck when my hands reach to her breasts.

“Ana!” I exclaim. “Are they tender?” I ask concerned.

“No, they’re not tender, but overly sensitive coupled with my beloved husband’s touches, he can make me come just by looking at them…”

“They’re fuller, bigger, luscious, womanly…” I whisper and my lips latch onto her pink nipple, drawing it into my mouth. When she moans her pleasure, I suck it deep and graze the tip with my teeth. My fingers glide between her breasts slowly then trail down to the peak of her belly, and finally down to the top of her pubic bone. I cup the bereft breast with my other hand, cradling it possessively, rolling the nipple between my thumb and the forefinger, teasing her breast with capable fingers. Her breathing grows shallower with my ministrations. I pay homage to her other breast with the wet warmth of my mouth. Just as I dip my finger between the folds of her bloom with my right hand, I release the abused nipple inside my mouth and then graze her now wet and sensitized bead with my day old stubble.

The feeling would possibly feel like running a hundred Wartenburg pinwheels over her eager, sensitized mounds. I pull back and gaze at her nipples which now stand out like luscious and firm beads. I lean down again and scrape my stubble across her hypersensitive skin in circles first slowly and gently, then faster and harder, back and forth driving her crazy. Her sweet arousal from her sex in return fills my nostrils, driving me crazy, insanely lustful. Our large master suite suddenly flames and engulfed within our collective passion. Anastasia’s breathing increases, and her legs are wrapped around my torso. My erection is straining against my silk pajamas, but I’ll have to endure the pulsating ache a little longer to make it more pleasurable for both of us.  

You Sang to Me - Marc Anthony

I run my lips and my stubble first run between her breasts and I make my way down to her bellybutton painfully slowly. Both my hands reverentially, sensually hold her belly. I kiss it and then I dip my hand back into her sex. It’s soaking. I untie the lace of my pants and kick it off to the ground. My erection springs forth seeking Ana’s wetness, a new pleasure excoriates its way to the surface. I take my erection into my hand and place it into the opening of her eager sex. As I slide my cock into my wife to the hilt, a low moan ebbs out of Ana. I begin moving; sliding slowly out then back in. Her inner muscles clenches and I let out a deep throated groan, thrusting my head back. She’s primed and ready to come. I can feel the slowly accumulating waves.

“Not yet! Don’t come!” I hiss clenching my teeth. “Let it last!”

“Christian!” she moans. She lifts her hips up. “Please!”

“Hold it!” I command. “Hold it until I let you!”

I thrusts deep into her gently, feeling the sensation of each stroke, but the movements are rhythmic, timed. I feel the pull of her inner muscles, the flutter of her clitoris, and she begs once again:

“Please Christian! I can’t come without you saying so! Please!”

I am powerless when it comes to the intoxicating pull of her lush body, her begging, and before I surrender fully into the pleasure I thrust deeper and faster like a thoroughbred racing towards a winning finish. Our breathing increases.

“You will wait! Wait for me!” I hold her hips, angle it just so that the pleasure remains just below the peak, but not ready to come. She shifts her angle seeking release.

“When do you come, Ana?”

“When you let me!” she shouts. “Please!”

“That’s right, baby! Come for me baby!” I growl with a deep guttural voice. Anastasia shouts her pleasure with my name a litany on her lips when the base of my cock kisses her sex. I’m lost in my wife; I hold her hips and angulate just the right way to thrust twice more before I succumb to complete ecstasy and get lost within my wife.

I hold her just like that for several minutes. Then when I pull out, the sound of suction is heard; Ana winces, appearing sad with the loss of connection.

“I want to go for round two,” she says pouting.

“Jesus, Ana! You’re insatiable, baby. Give me time to recover, and I’ll make you come all night.” And I do.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

“What do you think about this one?” Ana asks adorned in a stunning burgundy cocktail dress. The dress’ cleavage plunges down to the top of her belly. Waist of it starts at the base of her ample breasts. Anastasia twirls and the back is even more revealing than the front. The slit of the dress is up to her right thigh.

“Ana!” I gasp. My mouth goes dry.

“You like?” she asks looking at herself in the tall mirror.

“I more than like; I love it. But,” I say making a twirling sign with my index finger asking her to turn around. She opens her arms and turns once more. I clear my throat.

“It’s too revealing…here,” I touch between her breasts. “And here…”I whisper as I touch the small of her back. “Aaaand, here,” I murmur touching the top of her thigh.

“These are mine! I don’t want the world’s elite salivating after my wife guised as compliments.”

“This is yours as well,” she says as she’s holding her belly protectively. “I may not have been in New York before, but I have been amply warned by a bird that there was no shortage of women who were unleashing their inner bitch. I would like to have your eyes on me, only,” she says biting her lip. I purse my lip trying not to laugh. She’s jealous.

“In that case Mrs. Grey, we’ll get that one as well,” I say. We’ve purchased six pregnancy outfits. The personal shopper brings shoes to match with the dresses and the rest of the outfits. Only they’re not just shoes. They’re statements of fashion, designed to enhance a woman’s elegance to elongate her legs, and to accentuate her beauty. They’re simply works of art. Anastasia looks stunning in every single one of them.

“She’ll get them all,” I say.

“Christian, I don’t need them all. Just one would do.”

“She wants them all,” I order the shopper. “We also need you to bring coats to match with the outfits.”

“Of course Mr. Grey,” she says and quickly retreats.

“Christian!”

“Ana! Don’t start it please. You’re my wife. I want you to have them. You’re worth much more. I think a pregnant mom to be needs to get spoiled a little. Can’t I do that for you?” She sighs.

“Okay, I suppose.”

The personal shoppers comes back with a rack full of coats to match with each dress and then more. She retreats after telling us that she’ll be readily available if we need anything else. I like a red Full-Lapel draped wool-mohair Lanvin, white Nina Ricci, and a black Donna Karan on my beautiful wife.

“Christian! I know you like them, and so do I, but considering all the other items we purchase, they’re too much! I don’t want all three. I just need one.”

“I don’t want you to get something because you need it. I want to lavish you in gifts. You’re my wife! What’s mine is yours. Ours. I told you this before. This is nothing. Just pieces of fabric. I just want to please my wife. Let me do that for you…” I murmur holding the tops of her arms. She bites her lip with guilt on her face.

“Ana,” I say tipping her chin up. “I’ll buy you many more things. In fact, you and I will go and get some baby clothes, today, granted that we finish shopping for Teddy’s mommy,” I say raising my eyebrows.

“Baby clothes?” she asks brightening. “Right now? Can we buy some now?”

“Of course! But,” I say running my fingers on the clothes we have on the rack for her to try. “I have one condition.” She follows the trail of my fingers and eyes. Then she rolls her eyes, and lets out a frustrated breath.

“Okay, fine! But if I do that today, tomorrow… I only get to take one security detail.”

“Deal breaker. You take both of them, and I drop you off. We agreed on this one. You don’t want to go back on an already hammered out deal, Ana. Remember, I’ve more experience in negotiating than you.”

“You’re right. But…”

“No, buts, Ana. I thought you wanted to show who the master of Christian Grey’s heart is tonight.”

“I do,” she says determined. Then she turns to the personal shopper who is standing at a respectable distance.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“We’re taking them all,” Ana replies.

“Send them to our apartment Miss Palmer. Taylor! Give the instructions!” Taylor nods.

“Which direction is to the children’s apparel?” Ana asks excitedly.

“Mr. and Mrs. Grey, if you wish to shop at our children’ apparel department, I will immediately assign a shopper for you in that department. That way, when you are done with your shopping, we can send all items together.”

“That will be great. Thank you,” I nod and take my wife’s hand. Sawyer and Miss Tiber follow us inconspicuously, but vigilantly.  

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

“I didn’t know babies could have these many styles,” I remark.

“Yes, but I thinks girls have a lot more options,” Ana replies. “Oh, Christian! I’m so excited! Thank you. Our baby’s first clothes! Grace, Mia and Kate want to throw us a baby shower but I like the experience of buying our baby’s first clothes… with you… with his daddy,” she says smiling.

“I’ve never seen you this blissful other than when you’re beneath me,” I whisper into her ear. I can never get enough pleasure making my wife blush so profusely. Her eyes grow so wide.

“Christian!” she chides me looking around like a teenager who is caught doing something she’s not supposed to be doing but secretly happy about it. She squeezes my hand to fulfill the same pleasure at an appropriate time.

“In fact, I’d show you how happy it would make you now, but I have a lot planned for us in New York City. And as much as I want to put that face on you again,” I whisper lasciviously, “I have a surprise planned for you, baby.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“Let’s finish our shopping, and you’ll find out. Besides, if I were to tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” I grin.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

“Why are we going to the airport? Christian, we can’t go back, I have my conference tomorrow; we can’t go home today!” she protests after seeing the upcoming airport exit sign.

“Baby, relax. We aren’t going home. I want you to see the city bird’s eye-view. We have so much to do, and I want to spread the city under your feet. We’re going to the helipad,” I say.

“The whole city?” she asks excited.

“Is there any other way? Besides, it’s cold outside and we won’t get to remain outside for very long if we were to do sightseeing. This way, I want my wife’s first trip to New York to be unforgettable,” I murmur.

“It already is! The whole city?” she asks again. I laugh a hearty laugh this time.

“Yes, the whole city.”

“Are you flying us?”

“No, baby. I’d rather see your reaction and enjoy this beautiful city with you. I wouldn’t exchange this for anything,” I murmur then I lift her hand to gently kiss it. “Are you having fun so far?” I ask finally searching her face.

“Yes. I love being with you Christian. I love these private moments. I pretend it’s just you and me,” she whispers, indicating the security with her eyes, making me smile.

“If they’re this close to us, they have my utmost confidence. They have iron clad NDAs and they’re our most loyal employees. Pretend they’re not even here. I do. As far as I’m concerned, we’re alone,” I murmur. This is our way of life. We have to choose what we can live with for our safety, our family’s well-being.

When the SUV stops at the parking lot, Taylor opens my door and Melissa opens Ana’s door. I quickly go to my wife’s side, and hold her elbow. She wraps her scarf a little tighter.

“We’ll be in the warmth soon enough, baby. I’ll bring you here beginning of the summer when it’s much more pleasant. But winter in New York, especially when she’s dressed in whites is a different beauty to behold. I want you to experience it.”

“Thank you, Christian! I’m so excited. What parts of the city will we be seeing?” she asks.

“Patience, baby,” I smile. “I want something to be a surprise for you,” I reply.

“Mr. Grey, the helicopter is ready whenever you are,” Taylor says after he holds his hand to his ear piece to hear the incoming instructions.

“That’s a huge helicopter, Christian!” Ana exclaims.

“It is that,” I gesture towards the steps.

The pilot, co-pilot and crew are waiting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Grey, welcome aboard. I hope you enjoy your tour. I’m your pilot, Greg Davidson. This is my copilot Randy Finnegan. It’s a pleasure to serve you,” he says extending his hand. I shake it and the flight attendant shows us the way to our seats.

“What kind of helicopter is this?” Ana asks.

“You didn’t recognize the kind?” I ask.

“No. Should I be? I’m not very proficient in aircrafts, yet. Wait…” she says holding up the line. She scratches her head. “It’s Sikorsky. Sikorsky something, isn’t it?” she asks hopeful.

“Yes, good girl!” I respond, pleased. She remembered. “It’s a Sikorsky S-92. We also have a private tour guide who will tell you all about New York,” I say. When I take the seat across from Anastasia, she protests.

“Next to me, please,” she pleads. I smirk.

“My pleasure,” I reply.

After the take-off, the tour guide introduces himself. He looks like he’s in his 30s whose picture should be pasted on an underwear billboard.

“Welcome aboard, I’m told that this is your first time in our beautiful city,” he says addressing Anastasia after we take off. “Therefore, it is my honor to introduce you the highlights of the Big Apple. We’re going to show you the amazing views of the Lady Liberty, Ellis Island, and over there,” he says indicating with his right hand, “is the west side of Manhattan.” Then he moves on telling the brief history of the statue and the Ellis Island.

“Twelve million immigrants have passed through this Island of Hope, Island of Tears.”

“Have you lived here all your life? Harrison?” Ana asks looking at his name tag which boldly reads Harrison McAllister.

“Yes, ma’am. Many generations ago, my ancestors passed through this tourist spot which obviously was a port of landing for many poor immigrants. We have been here since 1892, the first year this place was in service. My roots are here, in this city,” he says smiling.

“So, you’re Irish?”

“Irish and a little Puerto Rican on my mother’s side, ma’am,” he replies.

“That must be some Thanksgiving,” Ana responds, and then she closes her mouth with her hand as if she’s spoken out of turn. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. McAllister.”

“You’re quite right ma’am. Fighting and drinking run in both families. Though, it’s in the form of boxing and martial arts now. And drinking is now a form of art, a social necessity,” he adds with a glint in his eye giving a brilliant smile to my wife, captured by her direct charm.

“As charming as it is to be acquainted with your family heritage,” I say through my gritted teeth, “I think my wife would benefit more from the information you’ve acquired about the fair city you live in rather than hearing about your ancestors who have been dwelling in it since 1892.” The look I give him is piercing, forbidding. Ana holds my hand and squeezes it tighter putting it on her pregnant belly to remind me that she belongs to me. I turn my head and slightly close my eyes. Then turn back to our guide, finally calmed down and point out the window, “Is that George Washington Bridge?” I ask. I can feel Ana’s clasping hand relax in mine, and surreptitiously, she releases a breath she’s been holding.

He clears his throat. “Yes, sir, it is.” Then he talks about the bridge in the next three minutes.

“What is huge rectangle block covered in snow?” Ana asks. “Is it the Central Park? It’s magnificent!” she exclaims.

“Yes, Miss. It’s the Central Park. And the moving dots you see are people who are ice-skating,” he says and all three of our security detail turn to look at our guide then to me.

“Mrs.” I say. My voice is low, commanding and threatening.

“I beg your pardon?” our guide asks. Is he fucking goading me? I stare at him incredulously. Surely, he can’t be this stupid. As if on cue five pairs of eyes turn to me.

“It’s Mrs. Grey, my wife. She’s not a Miss,” I say, my eyes flashing. Ana’s lips thin into a tight line.

“My apologies, Mr. Grey. Of course. It’s just a refined expression for young ladies as it is hard to tell whether they’re Miss or Mrs.” he says nodding. “Not that it is hard to say she’s a Mrs. I mean she’s young and attractive, but she’s clearly with you and your Missus,” he says burying himself deeper in the shithole.

“Anyway, about New York,” he says flushing then starts talking about the perfect skyline of the city, the Times Square, Madison Square Garden, the Chrysler Building. He makes every attempt to not to come eye to eye with me again. During the mid-tour, we have our lunch while watching the ice-skaters below. When the tour is over and we land back on the helipad, I think the tour guide what’s-his-name breathes out a sigh of relief. He escorts us to the exit and when he shakes our hands he says, “It was a great pleasure to serve you Mrs. And Mr. Grey.”

When we are firmly on the ground, Anastasia rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head, but she says nothing. She wraps her coat around tighter and as if she’s trying to warm herself, she crosses her arms and walks towards the SUV wordlessly. I catch up with her and brace myself for the argument to ensue. Taylor, Sawyer and Melissa give us a vigilant but wide berth to not to get their share from whatever wrath Ana might deliver. She looks thoughtful. She stops in mid stride and turns towards me. The expression on her face is unreadable. I don my impassive face and look at her.

“Uhm, Christian,” she says as a preamble to something she wants to express her opinion. What comes out next and the intonation is not what I expected.  

“Yes?”

“Your son is hungry. Can we eat something?” I blink. That’s not what I expected her to say. When she doesn’t get a response from me right away, and seeing my dumbstruck expression she quickly adds.

“I’m sorry. I guess I can wait a little bit if you’re not hungry. I know we just ate, but suddenly I have this maddening craving for rosemary potato and chicken pesto pizza. If they don’t have rosemary potato, I can live with sundried tomato, arugula and portabella mushroom pizza on thin crust. Cranberry juice and baby dill pickles and maybe cannoli for desert.  Can we find these here?”

“Ohm...” I mutter still stupefied, “sure, of course. I’m sure there’s a good Italian restaurant nearby. So, you’re not mad?” I ask.

“About what?” she asks. I shake my head.

“When I saw the Central Park from above, I thought it kind of looked like a giant tray of tiramisu. Got me hungry…” she says shrugging. “And,” she says lowering her voice, “I need to go pee. The guide kept talking after you admonished him and I was too embarrassed to ask if they had an on board bathroom. So, it’s kind of your fault that I’m about to pee!” she whispers harshly pressing her legs. “I was squeezing your hand when you were too busy scolding our guide to let you know, but anyway, can you find me a bathroom please? Like, right now!” she asks impatiently. I grin as wide as possible and when I give out a sigh of relief, it’s hard to hide it from anyone no matter how hard I would try as my breath comes out like a steaming pot in the cold New York weather. Anastasia utilizes the heliport’s restroom when all three of us wait for her to come out.

When she walks out, she asks, “Did you locate a restaurant yet? I’m starving!”

“I’m relishing these moments, Ana. It used to be so hard to get you eat. I have to thank our son,” I say emphasizing, “for making you hungry.” Then I lean in and whisper into her ear. “I should have knocked you up much sooner if for no reason other than getting you to eat.”

“Christian!” she chides me again. “Even though I can only think of food right now, don’t think that I haven’t noticed or forgotten your jealous streak back there,” she murmurs, indicating the direction of the helicopter.

“I don’t want you to forget, baby. Ever. I don’t want anyone to forget that you belong to me and only me. That fucker and anyone who has eyes for my wife would do well to remember that.”

“Christian! I’m pregnant. With your child. Men aren’t going to make a pass at me while there are single and non-pregnant women are available. I think our guide Harrison was just being polite. And besides, I’m already yours and only yours, Mr. Grey. You’d do well to remember that, too!”

“Why do you think we’re having this discussion?” I ask. “Come, I need to feed my wife and baby,” I say as I tug her towards the parked SUVs.

Please wait two hours for Chapter 24. I will post it within a couple of hours.