BOOK V - Chapter VII - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

CHAPTER VII

 EXORCISE YOUR DEMONS IN BED

  

The god in me and the beast in me

And all deep things come up to light;

And I would barter my soul to be

The prize of love for a single night

Take me to Church - Hozier Cover

The light in the bedroom is dim. It takes me a minute to adjust my eyesight, but when I blink, I realize that my wife is standing in thigh high black boots, pencil skirt, curve hugging white blouse with open buttons showing her ample bosoms pushing through the lace bra. What a sight!

“I thought you’re supposed to be sleeping. In fact, I specifically remember telling you to go to bed.” She bites her lip and takes a step forward.

“I know, Mr. Grey,” she says defiantly.

“And yet here you are… standing there in one of my favorite outfits.” I take a couple of steps forwards, taking time to examine her with great scrutiny. I take a deep breath through my nose. I motion her to spin around. She opens her arms and does as she’s told.

“What shall I do with you, Mrs. Grey?” My eyebrows are raised quizzically and I have many many scenarios that goes through my mind that I would love to play with her right now.

“Do you have your panties on?” I almost hope she has them on, because I want to have the pleasure of ripping it to relieve this stress and tossing it on the floor where it would stay all night.

“Yes… sir,” she emphasizes. Something in my wife’s demeanor makes me suspicious, like a tigress stalking. She slowly raises her hands and puts them on my shirt and I quickly notice her effort to push me into the wall. Her action slightly resembles a fight. But I debunk her efforts and it is she who ends up against the wall.

“Are you going to behave?” My words are whispered into her mouth between my hard kisses.

“Do I ever?”

“No… But I want you to obey tonight.” My tongue forces its way into her mouth where she meets it eagerly.

“It's a tall order and I’m very... very... very... angry.” The long drawn words whisper the warmth of her breath to caress my cheek. One of the first things I taught her is to take out her anger in bed. She can do that. In fact, I want her to do it. Long for it. It’s a fucking turn on.  

Undisclosed Desires - Muse 

She wants to fuck and fight? I’ll give her lots of it, but first, I’ll make her work for it. Beg even. It’s one of my favorite games. Fighting in bed is one of the hottest mating rituals. She is goading me. Inviting even. She wants this. Ana’s scent assaults my nostrils and I lose the clarity of mind for a minute. I close my eyes and rein in my control. When I open them, my gaze is heated, demanding and in control.

“Fight me then, baby.” My hands gripping her wrists above her head loosens it just a little bit for a few seconds to turn her. She struggles.

“I will bend you over my knee,” my voice is thick and husky.

“You wouldn’t dare, Mr. Grey!” Her struggles aren’t totally impotent. If we were home, I could use many different implements: filament rope, spreader bar, hand cuffs, but I need to improvise tonight, and I’m nothing if not the master of improvising. Ana is panting. But there’s no fear in her. The scent of her arousal is evidenced with the sheen of sweat on her ivory skin. It’s my brand of drug.

I hold both of her hands with one of mine, and push my body into hers showing just how aroused I am. My cock strains against my pants, rebellious. She twists her wrists in an effort to break off and struggle.

“You know your safe word baby,” I goad her back. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

She twists and rotates her arms in response, breaking my grasp then retracts them back to her body. I grab her by the waist with just one wrist and this time she giggles. I push her pencil skirt up with my hand gliding over her thigh, feeling the clips holding her stockings and her giggling stops, giving way into a gasp mixed with a moan. She groans but then pushes her body against me, trying to stop my hand’s contact with her body.

“Struggle all you want baby.” My deep, guttural voice is even unrecognizable to me. “No one will hear you. No one will come to save you. They all know you’re mine. You’re my woman, Mrs. Grey.” That statement gets the biggest reaction.

“I’m still angry, and turned on and furious!” She twists in my arms and suddenly her back is to my front. She’s unable to escape my arms, but she finds a different way to get back at me. She rubs her derriere over my straining cock. I suddenly pull her shirt apart and the buttons fly out everywhere. I cup her breast under the delicate lacy bra in my hand and squeeze. She pushes her head back into my chest, exhaling. I lift my wife off the floor and carry her to the bed, push her onto it face down, and forcefully shove her skirt up over her ass. Her skin glows in the dim lights. The lacy panties beg to be ripped off. I stick my finger in the middle and rip it to shreds, tossing it onto the floor. I rub my hand over her glorious buttocks. Only her stockings and the clips are visible. Her sex peeks between her legs, glistening with her arousal.

I rub both her butt cheeks, gently, lovingly. My hand leaves her ass for just a second and lands on her buttocks, leaving my hand print.

“That’s for fighting me,” I murmur.

“You made me angry when you tried to kick me out!” She grunts as I rub her rosy pink ass.

“You made me angry when you disobeyed!” My hand lands on to the other cheek leaving another hand print. Then one more caress. The next landing is between her things and right over her sex. She gasps, but pushes her butt into my hand. I am beyond aroused with the glistening wetness of her bloom. I run two fingers through her slit. I live for these moments. It is soaking wet. I want to thrust into her until I come hard but I need to prolong this for both of our pleasures and her punishment, and perhaps even mine since she is fighting me every step of the way.

“I’ll do it again!” she says defiantly.

“Fuck! If I don't die of worry altogether, you are still my le petite morte,” I murmur. In or out of bed, I'll end up dying for her. She’s the one who causes the small death, yet sex with her is a full life force for me. I can’t do without it. I hate fighting with her, except when she carries the fight into the bedroom. I love that she struggles, and fights me. It turns on the chaser instinct.

Once she submits, once she’s making love to me with all her body and mind, I just want to linger inside her, prolong the peak as long as possible. Hold the pleasure at bay until I see spots in the back of my eyes, and I’m nearly ready to pass out because the ecstasy reaches the level of euphoria. At that moment, I get a glimpse of both life and death with the flashes of color kaleidoscope. Pleasure bursts through every nerve ending, zapping my body and ringing every neuron in my brain. In that moment, I die inside her and reborn. There’s no greater freedom, or ecstasy than uniting with her body when we are one, functioning as a single entity. This is my la petit mort.

In my Secret Life - Leonard Cohen

I unzip my pants, and my erections springs forth. With her skirt pulled up to her waist, her shirt wide open except for the two buttons in the bottom. Quickly lifting her up, I slide her shirt down over her shoulders and let them hang from her wrists, switching the sides of the fabric, quickly tie her hands in front of her. Her breathing quickens. Being tied up excites her, because she doesn’t know what comes next or how it is delivered.

“Mrs. Grey… I got you exactly where I want you…”

“Where is that, sir?” she asks.

“In my fucking bed!”

“Which is rightfully mine, sir.”

“What I’m going to do with your smart mouth, baby.” When she opens her mouth to talk back, I cover it with mine, and her words drown in my lips and soon forgotten. When I pull back, I leave her panting, wanting more.

“I want to fuck your mouth, for talking back to me.” As she lifts her tied hands to grasp my erection, I shake my head.

“I want only your mouth.”

“Yes, sir,” she swallows her excitement.

I climb onto the bed with her and on my knees, I enter her mouth. Her lips grasp me, and her tongue first lashes, then licks the tip. Her mouth encases my crown, squeezing it around the rim. The warm wetness of her mouth welcomes and pleases me. Her head moves, pulling my length into the back of her throat, then pulls back. This time, she receives me in the hollow of her cheek over and over again, increasing speed. I feel my cock throbbing with pleasure.

“Stop, baby.” But she ignores my order and sucks me deeper, eliciting shock waves, ringing nerve endings all over my body. I grit my teeth and though I don’t want the pleasure to end, I don’t want to come in her mouth. I have other plans.

“Is that how we’re going to play,” I groan and extract my cock from her lips. I pull Ana down, lifting her tied wrists above her hand, and with one swift move, I enter into my wife’s sex. Her gasp is a sigh of relief, desire and relish. There’s this possessive moment, peak of conquest, not her submission but her reward to me for conquering her will, her desire for me to work for this moment… I get it completely, because it’s my Ana’s dominant side which I love breaking and turning into submission. I love her submitting herself to me after she makes me work for it.

I close my eyes for a moment, hold my cock deep inside her and take her all in with all my senses. Her scent is intoxicating, arousing. She’s like the first of spring. When the bitter cold of winter washes off million different scents of the whole year, cleaning it with snow and rain, the air gets crisp and fresh like newly washed laundry. The spring takes away the sting of cold and new life emerges with fresh flowers, leaves, vibrant, beckoning and completely exhilarating; full of hope, promise, discovery, both sensuality and innocence. I want to capture it all in, relish in it, drown even. The natural scent of her bare skin is not only extremely intimate but also very primal. I want to both fuck her and make love to her. Mark her as mine over and over again. She’s my spring, my reason for being; she’s my woman.

I open my eyes, darkened with lust, unbridled passion, completely uninhibited.

“Do you want me Mr. Grey?” It’s not a question. She’s seeking reaffirmation.

“Want is an inadequate word for what I feel about you. No one ever wanted anything more than I want you right now…” My voice is thick, sensual, and the feeling is bone deep.

“Hands above your head.” My order is clear. She immediately obeys. I pull her bra down and free her breasts. When I capture one of her nipples in my mouth, she lets out an unrecognizable moan followed by a barely decipherable “please!”

“Please, I shall, baby.” I pull my cock back almost to the tip then slam it back into her. I thrust my cock deep, hard and rapid. Ana shudders with pleasure. I push Ana’s legs to her chest and let her take even more of me which makes her reach her peak. I feel her inner muscles start contracting.

“Don’t come! Not yet!”

“Please Christian! I need to!” She begs.

“No!” I slow my movements down; stop it even until her contractions subside. Then start thrusting again, until it builds up. I push repeatedly again and again where she has no way of taking any more of me without completely bursting with pleasure. She grows even wetter as I ram into her.

“Ready baby?”

“Please Christian!” she moans beneath me.

“Come for me baby,” I close my eyes and that moment I disappear into the small death; we completely surrender ourselves to one another, and we die and live together in this pleasure. So much pressure is built, I can hardly breathe and I see the rainbow of colors behind my eyes. My cock is so sensitive it aches for a final thrust to release. And I come with a rush. My hot semen spurts with a fierce splash and fill my wife.

“Ana!” Her name is a litany on my lips. I still feel the lingering spasm of her sex, tightly squeezing and milking me. Her legs are shaking as we both ascend from our climax. I pull out of my wife and our collective fluids rush out of her sex.

As I untie her hands, Ana is smiling.

“Are you still angry with me?” I try to look nonchalant.

“A little. You fucked rest of it out of me.”

“What language Mrs. Grey!” I feign shock. “You’re a dirty, dirty girl.”

“That’s only because I married to a dirty dirty boy, Mr. Grey.” I lean down and kiss her lips.

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice you didn’t remove your clothes.”
 

“It’s only because I’m nowhere done with my wife.” I start removing my shirt with one swift movement then my pants and boxers join her clothes on the floor. 

“Round Two baby!”

 

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

First lights of the night seeps into the bedroom and I automatically wake up. Trying to orient myself, I look for Teddy’s baby monitor. Not seeing it, I sit up immediately and then remember that he’s with my parents and sister. Ana’s sleeping next to me. I check my phone for any messages.

There’s a text message from my sister.

*The little prince is eating and wants to play early in the morning. Didn’t you teach him mornings are for sleeping? You’re lucky that he’s too cute and cuddly. Don’t hurry. Mom and dad are on Cloud 9 w/ him*

Ana turns over, her hands reaching for the baby monitor that isn’t there.

“Good morning sunshine!”

“Damn! I’m sore all over. How much did we fuck?” She grunts opening her arms to pull me into an embrace.

“Until we exorcised both our angry demons.”

Demons - Imagine Dragons

“I feel blissful. Good job, Mr. Grey. I know you’ve conquered every inch of my body.” I lean down to kiss her.

“Teddy?” she asks when I pull back.

“He’s busy wrapping his grandparents around his little pinky.” My phone buzzes as I move to get up. I answer a little perturbed.

“What’s up?” I check the time. It’s 8:29 a.m.

“Welch’s been in town since last night. He needs to see you right away.” I smile at Ana, and move to the living room.

“Is everything okay?” She asks behind me.

“Business baby… and yes.” My voice is flatter than I wanted. Ana always picks up on any note of reticence and correctly categorizes it as a red flag.

“Anything I should know now?” I ask as I pull my jeans on commando. I look around to find my white t-shirt and locate it.

“He’s closer to locating the perp’s ties. Money trail.” Time freezes for a moment. All sight and sound halts, then comes back with a rush. Adrenaline pumping through my system.

“I’ll be there in a minute!”  

Security details suites are all strategic. Next to our rooms and with an adjoining door. Same with my parents’.

“Ana, why don’t you rest a little? I’m going to see Taylor for a few minutes.” She comes to the door wrapped in the sheet.

“Problems?”

“No. Just business baby. Hopefully some good news.”

“Uhm. Okay.” She looks at me trying to decide if she should be concerned.

“Daily briefing, baby.”

“Maybe, I’ll get dressed and go over…”

“No!” I cut her abruptly.

“They're on the same floor, Christian!”

I walk back to her, kiss her on the lips and reiterate. “No!”

“Why?”

“When I get back, we’ll go there together. Don’t disobey me.”

She sighs.

“My boobs are aching.”

“Then express the milk.”

“I think our son prefers to drink from the source.”

“You are the most exasperating woman. I will be back soon. I need you to obey what I ask you for this once. Can you do that?”

She rolls her eyes.

“You know I can still spank you.”

“Yes, but you’d never get out of the suite if you did. We’d be here all day,” she rubs her behind dropping the sheets.

“Fuck!”

“Stay! I’ll be back soon.” She turns giving me a full view of her front and back. Before I leave the room, I slap her behind leaving my hand print and making her yelp. 

"Apparently, one of your demons still there..." I point with my finger.

"I'd let you exorcise the fuck out of him, but, I miss my baby," she says as she disappears back into the room. I look behind her then finally let concern cover my face when I turn into Taylor's suite.

BOOK V - Chapter VI - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

CHAPTER VI

ANGEL LOVES THE DEVIL

Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead.

Bad Things – Jace Everett

(For Neusa, 50 Tons de Amizade, and all of you who have been waiting patiently...)

The concert gets full swing. Lights are dimmed all around except on the stage, focusing on Beyoncé and the backup dancers. Couples are dancing, jumping, and dry humping one another in the excitement of the music. Thirty minutes into the concert, the first three notes gives me the cue of my request is about to happen. I stand behind Ana and wrap my arms around her and kiss her neck. 

Ana looks very happy and is vibrating with excitement. The first few notes of the song tell me that it’s ‘Crazy in Love’. Crowd goes wild as Beyoncé struts to the stage with the slow motion walk of a runway model. She’s wearing a sea through body suit with strategically placed glittery designs to give the viewers’ imagination a wild run. Two other female back up dancers start shaking their booties and the crowd goes even wilder. 

“Crazy in Love – Beyoncé”

“She’s amazing!” says a male voice. People are already moving with the beat and murmuring or singing the lyrics out loud. Someone shouts, “I love you Beyoncé!” 

Before the first lyrics starts, she greets everyone again. “How’s everyone doing? Are you having fun?” she shouts as two more back up dancers spring to the stage shaking their booties and dancing.

“It’s a special day today for a very special person. Happy birthday Christian! This song is dedicated to you and all those who have birthdays today! Ana loves you! And… Ana… Christian says…” she starts singing.

“I’m so crazy in love with you!”

“What?” Ana exclaims, her face wearing a stunned look. 

“Well, I am: Unfailingly. Completely. Irrevocably… I’m yours, Mrs. Grey.” I reply trying to keep emotions out of my face. Reticent even.  

Her reaction could go both ways. I want her to know that all her gesture is loved, appreciated and that I am madly in love with her. She turns around and cages me in her embrace and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me. First slowly, testing me, knowing I don’t do as much public affection but it’s dark, and everyone’s focused on the stage and they’re already occupied holding and dancing with their own partners or making out. 

The pulsating energy from the music is felt all around the stadium. This really must be a very popular song among the fans because everyone’s going crazy about it. Anastasia is rubbing all over me, exciting my libido and I feel my cock a steel rod pushing against my pants. She runs one hand on my ass the other on my cock. She’s taking no prisoners.

“Mrs. Grey,” I whisper leaning in. “Keep up with that, and I will fuck you here, no matter who is present.” In response, she wraps her arms around my neck, kisses my lips with the rhythm of the song and sucks and nips my lower lip.

Once she’s done with her amorous assaults, I grab her hand and pull her to a dim corner. 

“You lit the fuze baby. You can’t pull back now,” I murmur.

“I’ve no intention of pulling back.” Her eyes glint with unknown excitement. I take note that my girl now has a taste for sex in public without being discovered. 

“I want you to stand before me, your body firmly against mine, and dance.” She bites her bottom lip and starts moving with the tempo of the music. 

The fans go crazy with the dancing and most of the couples are already kissing, dancing, singing along and quite a few are just making out. When Beyoncé’s and her backup dancer’s movements reflected on the very large screens, focusing on the shaking of their bodies in a sexual, rhythmic fashion, the crowds go wild, shouting their adoration of the artist and in unison the dancing goes to full swing in the entire stadium. 

Anastasia, being herself turns to me and jumps, hanging onto me, her arms on my neck, her legs wrapped around my torso, her kisses are demanding, urgent, powerful and utterly intoxicating. Back up dancers and Beyoncé move with the all-female band’s music, strategically placed pulsing lights focused on the stage, work up the crowd, seducing them to sing, dance and fondle one another. But I am focused in our closed little world in the darkness. The pulsating music around us reverberates, shaking the walls, pulsating through our bodies. Ana closes her eyes for a moment. At first I don’t know whether she dislikes the sensation. But then I remember that she likes feeling with all her senses. Suddenly I realize what she’s doing. She does the same when I blindfold her. She’s getting ready to feel me with her higher senses that are only available when eyes are wide shut.

The stadium and the private boxes are darkened to the barest hint of light, and the stage is lit up with various flashes of light emphasizing the signer focusing on Beyoncé and the backup dancer. The sparkles of pseudo fireworks explode on the stage, the noise peaks both on and off stage.  Just as the crowd goes wild, two of my fingers reach inside Anastasia and her sudden gasp is captured and sealed inside my kiss and her moans swallowed up with shouting fans around. She turns face to face to me, wrapping her right leg around my left. My hand travels down from her back to her bare leg and I squeeze it. She knows what I mean without words and yields to my demands by opening her leg. 

The song dedicated to both of us by each other; carry us away from the crowd, away from the arena and into our own little world. 

“What did I say Mrs. Grey?” My voice is firm in her ear. “Your back to my front. Now. Obey me, or you will have no release.”

A breathy, barely audible “yes,” escapes her lips. 

Anastasia’s head rests on my shoulder. If any casual observer were to look, the darkness would conceal everything, but they would only see the silhouette of a loving couple embracing one another, lost in the moment. I put my leg between hers to separate them. Anastasia lets out a soft whimper. At a particularly high note I dip down and catch the shell of her ear between my teeth, then tug and let it go, grazing and brushing over her long neck. Her scent hits my nostrils harder. 

Incessant urge and desire hitting a new high, I push Ana to the corner, quickly turning, my back to the wall, I firmly keep her back against my chest. My hand slides up on her thighs and reaches to her slit. I deliberately glide two fingers between her lips avoiding her clit a few times. And my fingers finally relent to her dripping wetness and they succumb to the desire to reach their target. A nearly voiceless gasp escapes her lips, so subtle, so lost in pleasure; I have to flog my mind to regain control. Ana throws her head back. To anyone looking at her, she appears as if she’s enjoying the music immensely with her man. But in the darkness, with everyone dancing and making out, we are not noticed. Her clit is a willing captive between my forefinger and the thumb. I massage it thoroughly until I feel the first contraction in that little nub. I immediately pull my finger away from her dripping wetness, leaving her sex in desperate need for a release and Ana panting and heaving.

“Christian!” the single utterance of my name in a whisper delivers her begging to give her a release.

“Do you think I should let you? Here and now?” I murmur my question into her ear taunting her, challenging, bringing out the carefully controlled dominant in me. 

Her arms reach from behind her and caress my neck, arms as she deliberately rubs her buttocks, and springing my already excited cock into action. Slow, dance like gyrating motions against my body leaves only my pants and her thin dress between us to feel and let both of us crave one another even more. She twists her head and looks at me angelically, but I don’t miss the she-devil look behind that gaze. When she lifts her body up again, I hold my arm firmly against her, keeping her in place and locked in. We move together with music, in perfect rhythm in our place. My hand travels again to get to her sex and this time two of my fingers enter her. My index and middle finger open to widen her, massaging her inner muscles and the front wall of her vagina. When my fingers find that delicate tissue, I press down until the muscles flinch; they react to my touch with hard, powerful spasms. My fingers glide easily further down with her natural wetness. 

I rub my cock against her sex behind her eliciting suppressed reaction in the form of Ana digging her fingernails into my arms. I know we’re both thinking the same thing: my wet cock tip entering into her. Pushing into her and stretching her wide for me. Spectacular sex begins in the mind: it’s not just a physical exchange, but a mutual conquest of mind and soul, so much so that I want to disappear inside my Ana. I thrust two fingers into her, and ease back out, gliding in her obliging wetness, finger fucking her with long precise thrusts with the rhythm of the live music. Ana tries to conceal her panting and follows the motions of my body with the music yet lost in the moment, pushing her hips against my fingers to make me hasten her pleasure. 

She groans a guttural sound. I don’t hear her with the loud music, but I feel the grumbling against my other hand and a half a smile curls up on my lips. I rotate my fingers inside because I want my wife to come wildly when a song we both chose sang to us. I find her pleasure spot, twist my finger so that my thumb can find and massage her clit as well. Soon enough, her inner muscles spasm wildly around my fingers, trying to pull them further in and a subsequent one follows from her clit. She sags against my body with a whimper. 

“Our night is just beginning,” I whisper as another song starts. 

“How right you are, Mr. Grey,” she looks at me satisfied and hungry both at the same time.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

The concert takes several hours, and it takes a little more for the crowd to herd through the stadium as well as these exclusive quarters. Taylor hates driving through the madhouse with thousands of fan released from the stadium to go back to their homes drunk with the amazing concert and inebriated with the booze. But I think the booze wins. This is why we are waiting in the room until the madness subsides. Not waiting exactly. It’s a madhouse even in this private room where people may recognize who I am. Concert goers slowly file out. Only a few people remain but they still seem anxious to get to their cars to enjoy the rest of the night with the woman in their company.

“Taylor!” 

“We’re parked right behind the home plate, sir. I’m already on it!” This man knows what I demand before I say it. I hold Anastasia’s hand and follow Taylor right behind him when someone spots me, recognizing who I am and calls after me. 

“Mr. Grey? Christian Grey?” What stops me in my tracks in no so much hearing my name but the unmistakable menacing disdain in that male voice. It rubs me the wrong way so much; I’m on the offensive immediately. Both Taylor and Sawyer are alert, ready to attack.

The owner of the arrogant, baritone voice is wrapped around the waist of a scantily but expensively dressed blonde. His breath has the pricey scotch wafting, but he doesn’t look or act inebriated. He’s in his mid-forties, tall and by the looks of him, quite well to do. Though I don’t like being called out thusly and it pisses me off royally, I’ve been having a beautiful time with my wife; I can’t let someone to spoil it for either of us.

“Who wants to know?” I turn on my heels to face him. 

“I just wanted to see what a backstabbing bastard looks like.” His face is serious. Barely concealed anger mars his facial features. I try to recognize him, but I have no recollection of meeting this man. I’ve not had any business or personal dealings with him. Having almost an eidetic memory, I sort the names and the faces I have met over the years, but I can’t place this man anywhere. 

“I don’t believe I know you. But if I stabbed anyone for any reason, you can be sure that the other person for sure handed me the knife.” 

“That’s not what I heard,” he goads and the blonde fidgets next to him. Taylor steps in closer. Remaining people shuffle out of the room either too drunk or too consumed with their company to notice our exchange. 

“I’d like to put on my ‘I give a fuck’ face on, but I don’t have one, stranger.”

“Andrew, baby…” whispers the blonde to him, trying to diffuse his inexplicable attack. 

“If you’re smart, you’d listen to your woman,” I stare at him with an untouchable gaze feeling no guilt, or the slightest hint of shame in what he may have heard about me. I don’t make excuses for being me, and I don’t second guess my decisions.  

But now I am curious about this man, especially when my team is in the middle of an investigation to figure out the identity of the perp who has been goading me and my family. This just may be related. This man doesn’t seem to be missing any meals, or looking at the prices of his purchases. 

Taking three steps forward, he is about to come eye to eye with me. Taylor immediately gets between us, but I hold him back. Let’s see what the fucker’s problem is. 

“I don’t take orders from a woman.” His whisper is as loud as if he had shouted. My hand snakes out with the subtle speed of a cobra, and grip him by the neck. The shock at the ease in which I render him powerless is written all over his face. I still let him breathe, but barely.

“Andrew... Hmm. What’s this fucker’s last name?” I ask coldly to the blonde. 

“Easley,” she murmurs with wide eyes, going pale as a ghost. “Please!”

“Christian!” Ana sounds horrified. I see her from my peripheral vision approaching me and she raises her hand to hold my arm.

I lift my finger up to cut her off. “Someone needs to put the fear of god in him, and show him how he can respect his betters.” Her lips thin into a taut line, her eyebrows pull together, and the blue of her eyes grow darker. She’s mad. 

“Take my wife to the car, Taylor!” He’s unhappy with the developments. Taylor clearly doesn’t want to leave me alone with the perp whose name allegedly is Andrew Easley. But Sawyer is here. I need Taylor watching over my wife and take her to safety.  

  

“Sir?”

“Christian!” They both chime in with a flood of different emotions and concerns. Taylor has trepidations and Ana is pissed as usual. But, I’ve not time for either. 

“I’ll come out with Sawyer as soon as I’m done talking to Easley here.” My voice is low, firm, calm and in control. 

Ana tries to tug me by my left hand. 

“Taylor!” My voice is packed with an unmistakable order. 

“Mrs. Grey, please!” he pleads with her. Taking a step forward, he’s ready to grab her and take her out.

“Don’t! You! Dare!” Ana’s finger points to Taylor. 

“Mrs. Grey,” Taylor begs in a whisper. Sawyer is careful to watch the room empty out. The blonde looks at Ana with inebriated but semi-pleading eyes. 

“Is that what you…” Easley stumbles on his words, then his voice starts rasping, “do to those who stand up to you?” I press my finger just enough to silence his voice box, his hands are trying to unsuccessfully shove my vicious grip. 

“Christian, please!” Ana demands in her low whisper.

“Baby, I don’t want a corpse in my hand today.” Then I turn my perp and add, “Andrew, the more you struggle, the more my grasp will cut your air supply and hurt you. I suggest you stop struggling,” then I turn to my terrified wife. 

“Andrew and I will have a short chat here.” I sound as if we are old buddies shooting the breeze. Ana looks at me skeptically. “After all, it’s only fair that I hear him out since he made such an effort to be heard. Now, go to the car with Taylor!” 

Ana disobeys and Taylor is unsure what he should do in front of these two offenders. My hand is still at the fucker’s throat; I lift my head up and mouth my epithet to the ceiling. 

From the peripheral view of my line of sight, I see at the same time with Taylor that the blonde dipping her hand into her clutch. She then gets out her cell phone and lifts it up with the red record light solid.

“Fine, fuckers! This is sooo going on YouTube!” As both Taylor and Sawyer automatically react to the blonde’s words and actions, with an unexpected fervor, my wife, Anastasia Rose Grey slams the blonde bimbo’s back onto the same wall Andrew is nailed and grabs the smart phone from her, smashing it on the floor with the spiky heels of her Louboutins. She then jumps on it for good measure while five sets of surprised eyes watch her.

“Nobody threatens my husband but me, bitch!” Then she turns to me. “You’re not the only one interested in the MMAs.” My wife and trainer has been concealing this unexpected, yet ‘I-am-so-fucking-turned-on-with-this’ kind of a surprise. I’ll have to have a talk with Bastille about this. But I’m not displeased. In fact, the way she turned into a lioness is utterly bewitching. 

Black Magic Woman - Santana

“I just want to take my husband home on his birthday. You stay, I stay. You go, I go. I belong with you, remember?” The determination laced with her concern makes it difficult for me to swallow the knot formed in my throat. 

A silent conversation passes through between me and Taylor. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of both the perp and the blonde with him. 

“Identification!” he orders. Blonde takes out hers with shaky hands and hands it to Taylor who then takes a picture of it and without bothering to ask the struggling bastard under my hand, he searches him efficiently and also takes a picture of his identification as well as his business card. Taylor flashes the card to me with a single slightly raised eyebrow. The fucker is in paper manufacturing business. Wordlessly, Taylor tucks away the card in his pocket. His well restrained anger is reflects mine with flared nostrils. 

When I take my hand away, the distinct red impressions of my fingers are evident on his neck, right under his jawline. Having been a Dom for years, you learn to hurt with or without leaving marks. They’ll disappear before we leave the parking lot. But not the pain, nor his wounded pride and masculinity. 

He tries to recover his ego and shouts with raspy voice, goading me into a showdown. “It’s easy to fight behind your men!” I turn around, coming toe to toe and invade his personal space; he’s forced to take a step back. Yet I take another step towards him. Our faces are only a breath away. My voice is even with an undertone of an unmistakable threat. It comes out in a menacing whisper.

 “When I fight, I always lead. But if you fuck with me, I will bring hell so far up your ass that you’ll wish you never called out to me at all!” Fear makes him swallow hard. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. He finally blinks as if he just broke a spell I casted upon him. A host of horrified emotions cross his face.

“Do you really want to make an enemy out of a man like me who never forgets an enemy?” His eyes finally stray away from me.

As I turn around to leave, he finds his tongue.

“You took out the biggest timber provider and dismantled it to satisfy your enormous ego, making the manufacturers to scramble and locate others. Prices jumped twice as much and the profit margins got tinier until they diminished. Most of us lost millions of dollars. Smaller manufacturers closed down, all thanks to you!”

“That should be lesson learned then. Don’t fuck with me!”

When I take Ana’s hand, I can feel her muscles getting rigid and I feel Easley’s penetrating gaze on me as we leave.

“Maybe not me, but someone will…” I don’t know if he said that or I imagined it. An uneasy feeling settles in our group of four. I have an urge to beat the shit out of him. But I can’t revert back to my impulses. I need to retain control.  

“Mr. Grey, Sawyer is going to take you to the car. I need three minutes,” Taylor murmurs. 

“Too public,” I whisper, one eyebrow arched. 

“Not for what I need to do.”

“Three minutes and not one minute more.” He turns on his heels and immediately departs as Ana looks at me questioning. Her eyes follow Taylor, worried.

“Let’s go baby.”

“Where’s Taylor going?”

“Small errand.” Ana falls silent. Not the good kind of silent, but when she’s contemplating of doing something silent. 

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing,” I say turning her to me as I hold both her shoulders, “don’t.” 

“Christian, a stranger just accused you of something and you choked him!”

“Baby, if I wanted to choke him, I’d choke him. I wasn’t even holding him hard enough to constrict his airway.” 

“I could see that he was terrified of you! I was worried that if I felt, you might hurt him badly…” It’s not her words but her demeanor, what she doesn’t say that worries me. The incident is finally getting to her. She’s shaking. 

“Were you terrified of me?” She doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t need to. Her entire body is tense.

“Are you still?”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Before she can answer, Taylor catches up to us. I hold my wife’s hand tight and we walk to the SUV. Taylor opens the door and I let Anastasia get into the vehicle and follow her into the car. When the SUV starts moving, I turn to her. 

“Ana?”

“I’m worried that you still have your old proclivities. Maybe you have the need to hurt someone. Maybe because you don’t release that build up pressure on that side of you, the tension builds up and I’m worried that you may just blow up in a harmful way.” I can see her old insecurities creeping up. Her eyes are wide and she’s trembling. I’m taken aback with her statement. I’m wordless. Is that what I’m projecting? Am I too stressed with this perp on the loose lately?

“Do you want to inflict pain to someone?” she asks with a quivering voice.

I don’t take my eyes away from her. I don’t blink for a long moment. I’m scared that if I close my eyes, she’ll disappear. One side of me wants to tell my wife what I think, the other wants to remain reticent. But I have to say something to her put her worries to rest. I exhale the breath I’ve been holding and speak after taking in another deep breath.

“I’m very fluent in a universal language: Pain. It took me years to master the art of inflicting pain and not cause harm. I wasn’t causing him any harm. He attacked me publicly. Remember?” She shakes her head and moves on with her questioning. 

“I saw it in your eyes. Tell me, did you really want to hurt him?”

I don’t lower my head or turn away from her. I look in her eyes without blinking.

“Yes,” I whisper firmly. Decidedly. “I wanted to hurt him. Badly. But I didn’t. Not more than I had to just to keep him in check.” In fact, I had to restrain myself because Ana just wouldn’t leave. But then I didn’t want to force her more, because I didn’t know what, if anything was waiting for her outside in such a crowded place, or whether this was just a distraction to get our group separated by this couple.

“Why?” The single word reflects the many thoughts crossing her mind. Her fidgeting, wringing hands, wide eyes, and her rapid breathing are telltale signs of the storms brewing in her mind.

“When it comes to you and our son, I’m protecting what is mine,” I say looking deep into her eyes, “nothing will stop me. I’d do anything to protect you and Teddy. No negotiating.”

Then I remember how she reacted to the blonde bimbo. My lips curl up in the semblance of a smile. “I don’t think you’re much different than I am. You were almost punishing the blonde, like a warrior,” I say with a wicked grin, remembering how she jumped on the smart phone, breaking it.

“Well,” she says in a measured tone, “it goes without saying that, I too protect what’s mine. And you’re my husband. Anyone who wishes to harm you, they’d find me before them.”

“I really appreciate your effort,” I say. This is something I wouldn’t have done before and it would be punishment worthy with anyone else. Because she’d be putting herself directly in harm’s way. This was Taylor and Sawyer’s job. Not Ana’s. But, I’ll deal with them later. Ana however, opted to act out of instinct. I’m currently not quite sure whether I’m more turned on because of it, or pissed off. Maybe equal parts. 

“You think, your wife helping you was just an effort?” She whips her hand away from me. “You qualify it as an effort?” She’s fucking pissed.

“Ana!” my voice is calm, like confronting a wild animal. “I have many rivals who may or may not be enemies. All men in my place of position of power do.” 

“Christian, this isn’t Seattle. This is San Francisco. Taylor and I managed to keep this secret from you to surprise you. Supposedly, no one would know that we are here. I’m a little freaked out. If that man knew we were coming here, how did he know it? If it was a random thing, how many enemies do you have? I’m going to worry every time you go out that someone is out there to get you.” Her voice cracks in the end.

I unbuckle her seat-belt and pull her onto my lap. 

“Baby, all these fears are unfounded.” I have a big suspicion that everything that has been happening lately are all tied up. 

“I don’t think so,” she shakes her head adamantly, fear and worry lacing her voice.

“This one can’t be tied up. I got the ticket at the last minute. In fact, it was all in Taylor’s name. I mean we took all the necessary precautions you would expect us to take,” she says nodding towards Taylor who must have been very insistent. I need to speak to Taylor to see what he found out. The ride to the hotel is silent with thoughts screaming in my head in full speed, like ten different radio stations blasting at the same time. I hold onto Ana tighter as if someone will snatch her from me. I feel her finally relax in my arms since we left the building. She runs her hand through my hair gently rubbing to soothe me, but nothing short of catching the perpetrator and the one or ones behind him would diffuse the uneasiness sitting heavy in my gut. 

“We should call mom to see if Teddy is doing well,” I murmur absently. 

“It’s nearly 2 a.m. I’ll text Mia. He should be asleep by now,” she turns to grab her clutch and gets her Blackberry out. Her fingers quickly run over the virtual keys and before I say something else, she’s sent her message. 

“Your mom and Mia wanted to keep him tonight so we’d have some time alone.”

“I won’t get to say goodnight to him?” The disappointment and the slight pang that tells me that I miss my son in my voice both surprises and relieves me. 

“Christian, you know he’s sleeping and if he wakes up seeing you, he’ll never want to go back to sleep.” Soon Mia’s text dings on Ana’s phone.

*All is well here. Little Prince was a perfect little angel & sleeping like we should all be doing. Who said babies were hard must be lying.*

I roll my eyes at my sister’s message. Ana smiles for the first time since we left the concert. 

“Say something comforting to me,” Ana whispers suddenly holding me tight. I hold her back tighter.

“I want your tone to comfort me; In fact, I don’t want to know what you are saying. Just… Comfort me with soothing words.”

She puts her head at the crook of my neck and I turn to kiss her slightly. 

“Tu es à moi. Tu es à moi…” I whisper softly and she shudders in my arms. My fingers run on her back. ‘You are mine. You are mine…’ I repeat my words softly until she feels what I'm trying to convey over her entire body. When I stop, her fingers trace my face.

“Say it again,” she murmurs.

“Tu es à moi et je suis à toi. J'ai toujours été à toi. Toujours. Toujours. Toujours…” You are mine and I’m yours. I have always been yours. Always. Always. Always… I whisper this over and over again into her ear until each and every muscle on her body relaxes. I need to feel that what is mine is safe and she feels it in every fiber of her being. A world where my wife and child unsafe is terrifying. It’s a vulnerable place. I don’t do vulnerable. When the SUV pulls into the underground parking lot, Ana’s eyes finally close, exhausted. When Taylor opens the door for us, I pull Ana to myself. 

“I can walk Christian,” she mutters half asleep. Taylor and I lock eyes briefly and he nods once to answer my unspoken question. The elevator ride to our level isn’t long and I open the door to our suite. I take my wife and walk her into our bedroom. 

“Christian, I wanted this whole night to be special,” she starts now fully awake. 

“Oh, baby, don’t you worry about that. It will be a very special night. I need to give instructions to Taylor and I’ll be right back, okay?” I remind her. 

She rolls her eyes and waves me off as she enters into the bathroom with her small bag in her tow. 

“I need you sleeping, or at least in bed by the time I get back.”

“Just go please!” is her muffled, yawning response.

Taylor is waiting for me in the living room.

“Well?” I probe with my arms crossed.

“I checked their tickets,” he says shuffling the images on his phone. He lifts up the ticket stubs. 

“Is that supposed to mean something?” I raise an impatient eyebrow.

“The date of purchase shows several weeks ago. Mrs. Grey and I purchased the ticket to the concert only recently. Unless she has spoken to someone else about her intent to buy ticket, they would have never known who was buying another ticket. Besides, it may not have been in the same room.”

“There’s another possibility,” I elaborate. “What if they exchanged it with someone who had tickets in the same area as we were?”

“Plausible but improbable Mr. Grey.”

“Explain!” 

“The man is in paper business, and on the way to the hotel I had Sawyer do a small search online. Guess who his timber supplier was?”

“Lincoln?” I say taken aback.

“Yes, sir! He must have gotten a good deal or had long business relationship with Mr. Lincoln’s company. Apparently, Andrew Easley’s company lost several million dollars in revenues and lost some contracts. It didn’t make the front pages of course.” 

“Call Welch and have him dig deeper.” 

“Already done, sir. Sawyer sent him a text message. I’ll be talking to him as soon as we’re done here. The man doesn’t pose an immediate threat.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m fairly certain.” I take a deep breath and pace. Then I turn to face Taylor.

“I want full report of your findings about this fucker and his relationship with Lincoln or Lincoln Timber. If any other fuckers are out there like that bastard, I need to know that.”

“Yes, sir.” 

All worries have to be set aside for tonight. I just want to get lost in my wife. All night, until both our devils are exorcised.