YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I EVER WANT
BOOK II – CHAPTER II
(Portland Printz image)
The minute I start holding Anastasia, I feel home, the gaping hole mended itself, my soul is intact. I allow myself to feel the connection, and indulge in this moment. I want her to forgive me; I will make her forgive me. (←Please Forgive Me by Bryan Adams)
I have never backed down from a challenge because it was hard; and I have achieved many impossibles. This is my chance to make this relationship right. I have to be shooting on all pistons. The energy, the usual electricity jolting through our connection is pulling me to her like Icarus to sun, and basking me in desire. I can see that she feels the same way. Though I now realize that I’ve hurt her, physically and emotionally, this is my day to right my ways.
A few minutes later Taylor pulls to a stop at the curb when we arrive the building housing the helipad.
“Come,” I shift Anastasia off my lap, “we’re here,” I say.
She glances up at me, questioning.
“Helipad – it’s on the top of this building,” I say as I glance towards the building by the way of explanation.
Taylor opens the door to the SUV, and Anastasia slides out. I come around the car from the other side, and notice Anastasia blushing to some exchange that must have gone between her and Taylor. I know Taylor is fond of her and was worried about her. I look at Taylor quizzically, and he stares back at me impassively, revealing nothing. Yep, he is protective of her as well.
“Nine?” I say to Taylor.
“Yes, sir.” I nod, and turn and lead Anastasia through the double doors into the grandiose foyer. My fingers are curled around Anastasia’s possessively, not willing to let them go. We’re drawn to each other once again, and I know she feels the same way as I do by the way she's stealing gazes, and squeezing my fingers back and the longing in her eyes. We reach the elevators and I press the call button. She peeks up at me, and I give her a smile. When the elevator arrives to the ground floor, the doors ding open, and I release her hand to usher her in.
When the doors close again, Anastasia peeks up at me once more. I glance down at her, my eyes alive. Here we are in the captivity of this pull, this electricity between us making the air palpable. It’s pulsing, vibrating, pulling like magnets, and drawing us together.
Anastasia gasps, “Oh my,” basking in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction we have between us. It has never left, but intensified with our separation.
“I feel it, too,” I say, my eyes clouded and intense with passion, desire and love for her. It’s pooling and radiating through my body. I clasp her hand and graze her knuckles with my thumb. I know she desires me right now because her body is so attuned to mine, we become as if we’re one entity. She clenches her hands and shifts her legs her body seeking relief. Of course, she starts biting her lip, increasing the desire in me for her.
“Please don’t bite your lip, Anastasia,” I whisper.
She gazes up at me, releasing her lip. Her eyes are bright with primal desire, longing and want. Here and now, in the elevator. It’s the same look, the same pull as the Heathman’s elevator.
“You know what it does to me,” I murmur. Her lips part as if this is a declaration she has not expected. Something brightens in her eyes. Hope? I realize something... She’s addicted to me too! (←Addicted by Saving Abel)
But all too soon, the elevator reaches its destination and the doors open, breaking the spell between us. We’re on the rooftop. It’s windy, and though she has a jacket on, she shivers. I put my arm around her, pulling her to my side protected, and we hurry across where Charlie Tango stands in the center of the helipad with its rotor blades slowly spinning.
My pilot Stephan is standing in his tall, blond, square-jawed physique and his dark suit. He leaps out of Charlie Tango, and ducking low, runs towards us. I shake hands with him. I shout above the noise of the rotors.
“Ready to go, sir. She’s all yours!”
“All checks done?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll collect her around eight thirty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Taylor’s waiting for you out front.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grey. Have a safe flight to Portland. Ma’am,” he says saluting Anastasia. Without releasing her hand, I nod, duck down, and lead her to the helicopter door.
Once I settle her inside, I buckle her firmly into the harness, cinching the straps tight. I give her a knowing look and my secret smile to Anastasia. She simply looks gorgeous in the harness.
“This should keep you in place,” I murmur. “I must say I do like this harness on you. Don’t touch anything.”
I run my index finger down her cheek as she flushes crimson before I hand her the headphones. How I missed touching her. She scowls at me. She’s tightly strapped in and barely able to move in her seat.
I sit in my seat and buckle myself in, and then I run through the preflight checks. I put on my headphones and flip a switch to speed up the rotors which sound deafening.
I turn and gaze at Anastasia. “Ready, baby?” I say through the headphones.
“Yes,” is her reply.
I grin at her knowing that she’s right here, with me is immensely comforting. Tonight is the night, baby. I’ll be winning you. I have all my cards lined up ready to spread them out, and I am hiding my Royal Flush; I have my poker face. I will not be losing tonight. (←Poker Face by Lady Gaga)
“Sea-Tac tower, this is Charlie Tango – Tango Echo Hotel, cleared for takeoff to Portland via PDX. Please confirm, over.”
The air traffic controller answers, issuing me instructions. We’re ready to takeoff.
“Roger, tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out.” I flip two switches, grasp the stick, and we rise slowly and smoothly into the evening Seattle sky.
“We’ve chased the dawn, Anastasia, now the dusk,” I say through the headphones. She turns and gapes at me in surprise. I smile at her, and she shyly smiles back at me.
“As well as the evening sun, there’s more to see this time,” I say. The last time she flew to Seattle with me from Portland, it was dark, but the evening view right now is quite spectacular. We’re up among the tallest buildings, going higher and higher.
“Escala’s over there,” I point toward my building. “Boeing is there, and you can just see the Space Needle,” I point at it.
She cranes her head to look. “I’ve never been,” she says.
“I’ll take you. We can eat there.”
She gives me a surprised look. “Christian, we broke up,” she says. It’s a stab into my heart. I am going to rectify that tonight.
“I know. I can still take you there and feed you,” I say glaring at her.
She shakes her head and flush. “It’s very beautiful up here, thank you.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” I say. I’m in awe of the scenery every time.
“Impressive that you can do this,” she says surprisingly complimenting me.
“Flattery from you, Miss Steele? But I’m a man of many talents,” I say.
“I’m fully aware of that, Mr. Grey,” she responds, tightening everything south of my body.
I turn and smirk at her, and a relaxing look slowly creeps over her face.
“How’s the new job?” I ask.
“Good, thank you. Interesting.”
“What’s your boss like?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s okay,” she says, and this rings the alarm bells in my head. Has he made a move towards her? She looks uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Aside from the obvious, nothing.” The obvious? What’s obvious?
“The obvious?” I ask.
“Oh, Christian, you really are very obtuse sometimes,” she says.
“Obtuse? Me? I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Miss Steele.”
“Well, don’t then,” she retorts making me smile. “I have missed your smart mouth,” I say.
All I hear is her gasp in response, but she keeps quiet, and gaze out the window to continue watching the sun go down on horizon like a large blazing fiery orange ball. What are you thinking Anastasia? Please give me an indication...
The dusk colors in Seattle sky are awe inspiring with opal, pink and aquamarine colors seamlessly woven together. We approach the crisp, clear evening Portland sky as its lights twinkle and wink in a way welcoming us both. I approach my destination, and set the helicopter down on the helipad. We’re on top of a brick building; the first place I picked Anastasia up in my helicopter for the first time in less than three weeks. It’s a testament how she changed me to my core in that short period of time. She became an essential part of my existence; a lifeline, without which I can't live. (←I Can't Live Without You by Mariah Carey)
It’s such a short time for some, but a lifetime for me as I feel that a time pre-Anastasia didn’t exist, as I can’t see my life without her. I finally power down Charlie Tango, and flip off switches and the rotors stop, and the noise of them subside and we can hear our own breaths through the headphones.
I unbuckle my harness, and lean across to unbuckle hers.
“Good trip, Miss Steele?” I ask, in a mild voice, as my eyes are glowing with the sight of my woman before me. Yes, she’s mine; and she'd do well to remember that!
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Grey,” she responds politely.
“Well, let’s go see the boy’s pictures,” I say as I hold my hand out to her and she takes it. She climbs out of Charlie Tango.
Old Joe is sitting and manning the security. As he sees us, he walks over and meets us, smiling broadly.
“Joe,” I smile at him. I release Anastasia’s hand to shake his warmly. I have always liked him.
“Keep her safe for Stephan. He’ll be along at eight or nine,” I say.
“Will do, Mr. Grey. Ma’am,” he says nodding at Anastasia. “Your car’s waiting downstairs, sir. Oh, and the elevator’s out of order; you’ll need to use the stairs,” he lets us know.
“Thank you, Joe,” I respond.
I take my woman’s hand, and we head to the emergency stairs.
“Good thing for you this is only three floors, in those heels,” I mutter. I don’t want her to fall and hurt herself, but I’m here to catch.
“Don’t you like the boots?” she asks.
“I like them very much, Anastasia,” I say as my gaze darkens. I like my woman in high heels. It’s the ultimate sexy. She turns me on in anything, but those high heels... 'Keep it together, Grey' I remind myself. I have a mission tonight, and I can’t be sidetracked.
“Come. We’ll take it slow. I don’t want you falling and breaking your neck.”
As we exit the building, the driver is waiting for us opening the door to let us in. We sit in silence as the driver takes us to the gallery. I’m nervous. I’ve told her, I’ve missed her and she said nothing. Has she found someone? That boss of hers? Has she been in contact with Jose since she left me? Is this why we’re here? Did she decide that he would be better for her as I’m too fucked up? Is she going to show me that he's a better match for her than I? I'm dying here! 'Keep it together... keep it together... keep it together...' I repeat in my head as a mantra. Why hasn’t she given me any indication that she missed me, or wants me, or some sort of feeling that shows her attachment to me? Did she stop loving me? I didn’t stop loving her! I couldn’t! I can’t even look at her as I am incredibly nervous.
“Jose is just a friend,” she finally murmurs.
I turn and gaze at her, as she answers my unspoken question. My eyes are dark, guarded, and wary, but giving nothing away. 'Am I just a friend, or more for you Ana?' I want to ask, but maybe I don't want her to answer that until she hears me out tonight. Her eyes linger on my mouth. How I wish to use it to claim you Anastasia! I shift in my seat and frown as I look at her face and her big blue eyes that have gotten even bigger after she lost weight.
“Those beautiful eyes look too large in your face, Anastasia. Please tell me you’ll eat,” I plead with her.
“Yes, Christian, I’ll eat,” she answers automatically.
“I mean it,” I say.
“Do you now?” she says with disdain. Oh, Please Ana, don’t start this now! I’m not here to fight, I’m here to win you back!
“I don’t want to fight with you, Anastasia. I want you back, and I want you healthy,” I say softly in my plea.
She looks surprised, and her lips part in a soft exhale. “But nothing’s changed,” she responds.
“Let’s talk on the way back. We’re here.”
The car pulls in front of the gallery, and I climb out, go around and open the door for her. She clambers out.
“Why do you do that?” she asks in a loud voice.
“Do what?” I ask taken aback. What have I done just now?
“Say something like that and then just stop.”
“Anastasia, we’re here. Where you want to be. Let’s do this and then talk. I don’t particularly want a scene in the street.”
She flushes and glances around. She realizes that it’s too public, and finally she presses her lips together as I glare down at her.
“Okay,” she mutters sulkily. I take her hand and lead her into the building.
The building is a converted warehouse with brick walls and dark wood floors, white ceiling to give building height, and the pipework are painted to white as well. It’s airy and modern, and a lot of people are wondering across the gallery floor, sipping wine, and admiring the photographs.
“Good evening and welcome to Jose Rodriguez’s show,” says a young woman dressed in black with very short brown hair, and bright fuck-me red lipstick, and large hooped earrings. She glances at Anastasia and her gaze stops on me, then she finally turns back at Anastasia, and she blinks and blushes. What’s the deal?
“Oh, it’s you, Ana. We’ll want your take on all this, too,” she says handing her a brochure and directs her to a table loaded with drinks and snacks.
Does she know Anastasia?
“You know her?” I ask frowning.
Anastasia shakes her head in the negative; she too is puzzled.
I shrug, distracted with my preoccupation with my current problem - winning my woman back. “What would you like to drink?” I ask.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine, thank you,” she says. My brow furrows because, generally wine is horrible at these kinds of events. But, I want to pick my battles, and this isn't the topic I want to fight over right now.
I head to the open bar. There is a line formed already, and someone notices who I am and makes a move to introduce himself. He's a man in his 30s, with dark hair, green eyes that are all too bright with some giddy excitement, like the semi-mad scientist. I hate small talk; and I like it less today.
“Forgive my bad manners sir, but, are you the Christian Grey?” says the man with green eyes that seem a little high from something and reaches to me from two people behind me, scooting forward, pushing the other two patrons out of the way as if they're just inanimate obstacles on his way. I give him a once over. He's in business casual, appropriate for such events.
“Excuse me...” bumps into the woman ahead of me, and “excuse me,” he says again to the guy behind him profuse in his apologies but that doesn't stop him bumping around some more to others clumsily with whatever excitment he's experiencing by meeting me.
“Yes, I am,” I say a little irritated; my mind pre-occupied. I’m not in the mood to exchange pleasantries, or meet people because I’m walking in the mine field right now trying to get back the woman I love.
“I’m a big fan of yours, sir!” he says gushing enthusiastically. “My name is George... George Dumass,” he says as he proffers his sweaty hand to me, and I take it reluctantly.
“Pleased to meet you Mr. Dumass,” I say flatly.
“Just like you, I’m into clean energy, too sir!” he gushes and jumps into a conversation I didn't know we started with a big smile on his face. “Here, let me give you my card. Call me, if you need any assistance,” he says. What kind of assistance would I need from a stranger?
I look at the man with an impassive gaze, “thank you, but there are proper channels to apply for a position in my company; it’s it not done on my leisure time, Mr. Dumass,” I say.
“Oh, no, I’m not looking for a position. I’m looking for a partnership,” he says, and I narrow my eyes on him.
“Partnership?” I say incredulous. “Mr. Dumb Ass, I don’t do partners, never have, never will!”
“Oh, it’s Dumass! My name is Dumass.”
“Well, Dumass, I’m not interested. This is my private time with my lovely girlfriend, and I am not on a business venture here. For any other business, use the proper channels!” I say menacingly running out of patience.
“But sir, you might be interested in what I have to offer!” he says persistently.
“Dumb Ass! Let me make it very. Very. Very. Clear.” I say enunciating.
“This is my private time, with my lovely girlfriend,” I say, also feeling her gaze on me. I turn to look at her, and our eyes lock. We’re both motionless for a minute, unable to move, unable to function. My gaze burns into her, hot, smoldering, lost to her, lost to the love I’m feeling for her. The sight of her hitches my breath, reminding me why I’m here. My mission is to get her back tonight. She’s talking to Jose until the Miss very short hair, big hoops, bright fuck-me red lipstick lady comes to get him away, and he kisses my woman! On the cheeks, but nonetheless, he kisses her. (←I'm Jealous by Shania Twain) I can barely contain myself, and the frigging line isn’t moving! The wine couldn’t be that good! What is it with people and the free booze? Mr. Dumb Ass with sweaty hands is like white on rice to me.
“Mr. Grey, it’ll be worth your while!”
I turn to him impatiently, and give him my icy glare which says I’m-not-to-be-fucked-right-now!
“What do you fucking not understand, when I say, I’m with my girlfriend, on my own private, leisure time! Do you like to be distracted when you have a private occasion going on dumb ass?”
“No, actually, I usually even turn my cell phone off...” he says, but I cut him off.
“Great! If there ever was an off chance that you would meet me, someplace else, again, and I have my girlfriend with me... Never. Ever. Interrupt me! I’ll make you regret it,” I say in a calm but menacing voice.
The man behind me turns to the sweaty hands and says, “Get in line man! Let the man have a peaceful date with his woman, and stop cutting the line!” Sweaty hands give up chagrined, and moves back into his place. I welcome this little comment from another stranger who just nods at me apologetically on behalf of the dumb ass, like cool water on a hot day. The fact that someone else pegged Anastasia as my woman is a good omen. I'll hold onto any hope I can.
Finally it’s my turn in the line.
“What kind of white wine do you have?” I ask with impatience to the bartender.
“Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc sir,” says the bartender showing me two no-name bottles. I make a face.
“Two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, then,” I say.
When I finally get on my way to get back to Anastasia she’s watching a photograph of a lake with early evening and pink clouds are reflected in the smooth surface of the water. It’s a peaceful image, perfectly reflecting the natural beauty. As I get near her, she takes a deep breath and swallows as if she’s trying to find her center. I hand her one of the glasses of white wine.
“Does it come up to scratch?” she asks in a normal voice.
Is she talking about the portraits?
“The wine,” she responds to my quizzical face.
“No. Rarely does at these kinds of events. The boy’s quite talented, isn’t he?” I ask admiring the lake photo.
“Why else do you think I asked him to take your portrait?” she says proud of her friend. My eyes glide impassively from the photograph to her. Jealousy creeping up.
“Christian Grey?” says the photographer from the Portland Printz. “Can I have a picture, sir?”
“Sure,” I say hiding a scowl. I need to keep my calm, though tornadoes are brewing inside me. Anastasia steps back, but I grab her hand, and pull her to my side. She’s my girlfriend. It’s not in the past tense. It will never be in the past tense if I can help it! The photographer looks at us and is quite surprised.
“Mr. Grey, thank you,” he says snapping a few pictures. “Miss...?” he asks.
“Steele,” she replies.
Let the whole damn world know that she is mine! She is taken, and so am I!
“Thank you, Miss Steele,” says the photographer scurrying off.
“I looked for pictures of you with dates on the Internet. There aren’t any. That’s why Kate thought you were gay,” says Anastasia making my mouth twitch into a smile.
“That explains your inappropriate question. No, I don’t do dates, Anastasia – only with you. But you know that,” I say willing her to see my sincerity, my affection for her.
“So, you never took your,” she says glancing around nervously trying to make sure no one can hear our conversation, “-one of your subs out?”
“Sometimes. Not on dates. Shopping, you know,” I say shrugging, my eyes fixed on her as if she’d bolt and this turns into a nightmare, and I wake up without her.
Her lips slightly part as she comprehends that she has been the only one. The only exception to all my rules.
“Just you, Anastasia,” I whisper. (←You’re Still the One by Shania Twain)
She blushes and stares down at her fingers. I wish she understood how deeply she’s rooted in my soul! I wish I could express it to her properly without fucking it up! I’ve never done hearts and flowers. When she looks back up to me, “Your friend here seems more of a landscape man, not portraits. Let’s look around,” I say and hold my hand out to her, and she takes it. I briefly close my eyes and bask in our connection.
We walk around the gallery, see a few of the pictures, and a couple nods at Anastasia, smiling broadly at her as if they’re on a Sunday picnic with the church, and Anastasia is the choir girl they’ve known so well! I don’t think it’s because of me, because they’re glaring at her! What's the deal?
Then, another young man just unabashedly stares at her with his jaw dropping open, ogling the sight of MY woman!
As we turn the corner, the reason why everyone is staring at her becomes apparent. There are SEVEN huge portraits of Anastasia hanging on a far wall. They’re immense!
As her blood drains from her face, mine boils, and I’m ready to blow my top! There are giant pictures of Anastasia, laughing, serious, pouting, scowling, amused, serene, and mock mad. But somehow I feel that they are as intimate as if they were nude images of her. All up close and all in black and white. I look at each picture, transfixed. At this very moment, I realize that I’ve never seen her this intimately, this at ease, without worries clouding her beautiful eyes. And the fact that it was the photographer who captured those images, and he was the one to provide those simple, happy moments ache me inside, making me jealous, envious of that fucker. I’m captivated by the images... Simply captivated by her simple magic, her exuding innocence, and the serenity she has in her expression. She's breathtaking!
“Seems I’m not the only one,” I mutter, completely realizing that the photographer too is in love with her. My mouth settles into a hard line. I don’t mind competition in business, but, I don’t want anyone competing over my girlfriend. Since everyone recognized her, and appears all the patrons are enamored by her images, I don’t want anyone purchasing those pictures to ogle over her in the privacy of their homes.
“Excuse me,” I say to Anastasia, pinning my gaze on her to transfix her in her place. I walk back to the Miss Very Short Hair, Big Hoops, and bright fuck-me red lipstick lady.
“I want to purchase the photographs of Anastasia!” I say firmly.
“Great!” she says brightly. “Which one?”
I glare at her incredulous. “All of them!”
“Really?” she asks brightly. “I mean, sure... of course. The cost of each picture is...” she says and I cut her off.
“I don’t care how much it costs. I will buy all seven portraits of Anastasia!” I say, and fish out my credit card, and hand it to her.
“Of course, sir!” she says brightly. After she runs my credit card, and hands me the slip to sign, she collects the delivery information.
“I want you to find Mr. Rodriguez, and tell him to make sure not to make any other copy of those pictures!”
“Oh, but, he owns the negatives. You’re only buying the prints, Mr. Grey,” she says.
“Well then,” I say impatiently, “it appears, I’m also buying the negatives. I need a written statement from him that he’s not to make any other copies from the negatives of Anastasia’s images that I’m purchasing, and should he have any other images or negatives of her, he’s not to print or display them without her written consent. Do I make myself clear?” I say in a threatening voice.
“Yes, sir, perfectly!” she says all flustered. Problem resolved. I finally turn to get back to Anastasia, and I find a man with a blond mane ogling my girlfriend, talking to her. Can’t a man turn his back without the possibility of someone else moving in on his woman? I quickly make my way back to her, and my hand is at her elbow possessively. I look over her head impassively to the blond mane clearly staking my territory.
“You’re a lucky guy,” says the blond mane, smirking at me. I stare back at him coldly.
“That I am,” I mutter darkly, and pull my woman over to my side, with my possessive arm tightly wrapped around her shoulder, claiming proprietorship, in a way daring anything male to get near her without getting through me.
The blond mane gets my drift, and walks away.
“Did you buy one of these?” asks Anastasia.
“One of these?” I snort, without taking my eyes off them.
“You bought more than one?” she asks incredulous.
I roll my eyes at her. “I bought them all, Anastasia. I don’t want some stranger ogling you in the privacy of their home,” I say, but that’s the least of my worries. Those images are very intimate in a private way.
“You’d rather it was you?” she says teasing.
I glare down at her, caught off guard by my audacious girlfriend (in the present tense), but I’m amused because she’s being playful.
“Frankly, yes,” I reply.
“Pervert,” she mouths and bites her lower lip, making my mouth drop open. I stroke my chin thoughtfully, what I'd love to do to you when you're talking to me like that and biting that lip.
“Can’t argue with that assessment, Anastasia,” I say shaking my head, and my mood lightens. Anastasia’s eyes take a playful look, she licks her lower lip and says conspiratorially, “I’d discuss it further with you Mr. Grey, but I’ve signed an NDA.”
I sigh, gazing at her, my eyes darkening. Do you have any idea what you do to me with your smart mouth? How you rile all sorts of emotions up, and turn me on? “What I’d like to do to your smart mouth,” I murmur. I can utilize it in more ways than one, baby.
She gasps, completely comprehending my meaning.
“You’re very rude,” she says sounding shocked.
I smirk at her, feeling amused. But then my eyes glance back at the images, making me frown. I wish I was the one who made her feel at ease like she has been in those pictures.
“You look very relaxed in these photographs, Anastasia. I don’t see you like that very often,” I say, almost mournful.
She flushes and instinctively looks down to her fingers. I don’t want her to be embarrassed of me. I tilt her head back, and she inhales sharply at our skin to skin contact.
“I want you that relaxed with me,” I whisper. It’s my vow. I will make sure she is that relaxed and happy with me.
“You have to stop intimidating me if you want that,” she snaps at me.
“You have to learn to communicate and tell me how you feel,” I snap back at her with blazing eyes. I always try to be explicit with her, but she’s so closed up to me sometimes. Anastasia looks up at me and takes a deep breath to give me a piece of her mind.
“Christian, you wanted me as a submissive. That’s where the problem lies. It’s in the definition of a submissive. In fact you e-mailed it to me once,” she says pausing, trying to recall exact wording I used in my message. “I think the synonyms were, and I quote, ‘compliant, pliant, amenable, passive, tractable, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued.’ I wasn’t supposed to look at you. Not talk to you unless you gave me permission to do so. What do you expect?” she hisses at me.
I blink at her clear assessment of the problem. Of course I have realized of late that my main problem when this relationship was that I had entered into a contractual relationship and I've fallen in love. But then, that was the only kind of relationship I had ever known or had ever been interested. But, almost from the first moment I met Anastasia, I knew she was different, but I never knew that I would fall madly in love with her. There had been other subs who wanted more, and either I broke with them, or they found someone else and broke up with me. I never gave a second thought to it, because I had no feelings for them. But, this woman before me, this innocent girl, holds me accountable, and can go toe to toe with me. It’s refreshing, and maddening, and sexy and scary. She’s bold, and unfortunately, she’s right. My frown deepens as she continues to speak.
“It’s very confusing being with you. You don’t want me to defy you, but then you like my ‘smart mouth.’ You want obedience, except when you don’t, so you can punish me. I just don’t know with way is up when I’m with you.”
My eyes narrow. She’s speaking, and she bared her soul to me. She’s communicating and that’s what I want. But I don’t want this to cement our break-up and erect the tombstone on the relationship we could – no, we will have. “Good point well made, as usual, Miss Steele.” I say in a frigid voice. “Come, let’s go eat.”
She laid down her cards, now it’s my turn.
“We’ve only been here for half an hour,” she protests.
“You’ve seen the photos; you’ve spoken to the boy,” I retort.
“His name is Jose,” she reprimands me.
Fine! “You’ve spoken to Jose – the man who, the last time I met him, was trying to push his tongue into your reluctant mouth while you were drunk and ill,” I snarl at her.
“He’s never hit me!” she spit at me, and that hurts my feelings. I scowl at her, and fury is emanating out of my pores. That’s it! We’re leaving right now, even if I have to put her on my shoulder with a swat on her delectable behind in front of all these patrons and the press! “That’s a low blow, Anastasia,” I whisper menacingly.
She flushes, and I’m doubly exasperated running both my hands through my hair, anger is bristling out of me, I can hardly contain it. It’s like that with Anastasia… I never know what she will say or do, and she can make me angry like no one can and I want to both punish and love her at the same time. I have all these foreign emotions I have never experienced before, making me incredibly possessive of her, and right now I just want to kiss her, fuck her, love her and spank her all at the same time, and none of which will sate this overflowing feeling in me!
Of course she just glares back at me like no one can.
“I’m taking you for something to eat. You’re fading away right in front of me. Find the boy, say goodbye!” I say.
“Please, can we stay longer?” she asks.
“No. Go. Now. Say goodbye!” I enunciate. I have long passed my tolerable limit.
She glares at me, her anger is making her crimson all the way to her hairline. She narrows her eyes on me; and if it was at all possible, she would be steaming out of her ears! She finally drags her gaze away from me looking for the boy. Finally locating him, she walks away from me to the boy to say her goodbyes.
There are a few girls around the photographer. I’m standing in my spot, transfixed, impatience is vibrating through me, and I am through waiting. We are going to lay all our cards tonight, and by God, I’m going to win you back Anastasia Steele! I find myself tapping my foot on the floor out of nerves. Ana is some distance away, but my gaze doesn’t leave her, and I don’t even blink.
The fucking photographer sweeps my woman into a big bear hug and spins her! Blood rushes to my head, my eyes darken, and the anger I have barely contained under wraps is now overflowing. Then in a calculating move, Anastasia, my Anastasia, my woman, wraps her arms around the fucker’s neck who is happy to be wrapped in her arms as he too is in love with her! I’m so fucking mad! If I have to drag Anastasia by the hair like the cave man, I will do it. My glare darkens, and jealousy is killing me! What is she trying to do to me? Anastasia Steele, you will be the death of me! Have you any idea, how much in love I am with you! Do you know the extents I would go in a heartbeat to keep you in my life? Do you have any idea of the kind of hell I have been though in the past week because of your absence? And here you are showing affection to a man I know you have no feelings for just to make me fucking jealous! I’m so pissed at you right now, I just want to claim you in the nearest place with semi privacy!
I slowly make my way toward them. She’s still wrapped in his arms talking shit with him. Man, if you don’t get your fucking arms off her, I will pull them off of you! Just as I am only a few steps away from them, that fucker reaches and hugs her tighter, and I speed up my feet, and reach Anastasia, seething with anger, glowering at her, and reach for her elbow.
The douche bag releases her finally, and says, “Don’t be a stranger, Ana. Oh, Mr. Grey, good evening,” he says like he just noticed my presence here. Yes, you’d do well to remember Christian Grey who is going to resume his status as Anastasia’s boyfriend. Keep your fucking arms off her!
I barely contain myself, and barely can utter in an icily polite voice, “Mr. Rodriguez, very impressive,” I say. “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer, but we need to head back to Seattle. Anastasia?” I say subtly stressing on ‘we’ emphasizing us being a couple, and take her hand as I do so.
“Bye, Jose. Congratulations again,” she says giving him a quick kiss on his cheek to blow my volcano of an anger. That’s about all I can take. I grab her hand, and drag her out of the building. All kinds of hormones are ravaging my body and my brain. Anger, jealousy, and frustration are at explosive levels, and I’m just sweating like a sinner at church with all these raging emotions!
When I get outside the building, I look quickly up and down the street, and then head left and suddenly sweet her into a side alley, and I abruptly push her against a wall with all my feelings are exploding out of me. I can’t take it that the woman I’m in love with was just in someone else’s arms, hugging and kissing, and I haven’t even kissed her yet. I grab her face between my hands, forcing Anastasia to look up into my fierce determined eyes. (←Principles of Lust by Enigma)
She gasps as she realizes the intensity of my desire, and my mouth swoops down on hers. I’m kissing her violently, uncontrollably; teeth clashing. Then my tongue is in her mouth seeking hers forcefully.
Desire in both of us explodes like Mount Vesuvius and to my relief, she’s kissing me back, matching my fervor with her own; her hands knotting in my hair, pulling it hard to her, trying to merge our bodies together as if our separation bred an unmatched hunger in her… for me! Her response makes me groan in the back of my throat reverberating through her body, and rapidly my hand moves down her body to the top of her thigh, my fingers digging into her soft flesh through her sexy plum dress.
My anxiety, my desire, my longing for her, and the fear that cultivated that unnamed emotion, that jealousy, and the fear of loss pour through me into her through my kiss, binding us together, and at this moment I realize that we both feel the same way.
I will eternally be sealed with this kiss, and I kiss her long and hard until I absolutely run out of breath in my lungs. My eyes are burning embers with desire for her, and passion in my body, in my blood is searing through me. I’m man on fire! (←Ring of Fire sung by Joaquin Phoenix) We’re both breathless, and I make my declaration to her.
“You. Are. Mine,” I snarl at her emphasizing each word, enunciating, pouring all my love for her. What can I do to make her understand that there is nothing more precious for me than having her in my life, in my arms, in my heart? What Ana? Tell me!
I push away from her bending, as I put my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath as if I ran a marathon, and I did…for days, after her, trying to get her. Trying to give her space… Trying to give her time to think… Trying to give her the opportunity to sort her feelings. But, I’m spent! I’m a man in love... I just can’t live without her! Even if she is hugging some guy in a friendly manner, or trying to get a rise out of me – well… the reasons don’t matter, because no matter what they are, I’m equally, passionately, and most ardently in love with her and completely jealous of any regard she might otherwise show another guy!
“For the love of God, Ana,” I say my voice plea.
She leans against the wall, panting, and trying to control her own body’s reaction, trying to find her center.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers in a breathy voice.
“You should be,” I say my voice cracking with the overwhelming feelings making a lump in my throat. “I know what you were doing. Do you want the photographer Anastasia? He obviously has feelings for you,” I say praying, ‘please say no, please say no, please say no!’ The moment I saw Anastasia’s photographs in the gallery with her smiling, pouting, making faces, mock angry… I felt no greater jealousy before of her or of anyone, or anything else because someone had seen and captured her in such an intimate way that I had not. I realized that the photographer too was in love with her. I just can’t bear seeing her with someone else in any real or imaginary capacity.
She flushes after my fervent question, and shakes her head in the negative.
“No,” she says to my utter relief. “He’s just a friend.”
I give a sigh of relief.
“I have spent all my adult life trying to avoid any extreme emotion,” I say looking into her eyes, my voice breaking. “Yet you… you bring out feelings in me that are completely alien. It’s very…” I say frowning, grasping for the right word. “Unsettling.” But it’s beyond that. My heart, my soul, destiny are all in her palms to do as she wishes, as she wants to mold them… whether she wants to keep them, or toss them away. I have never, ever been this vulnerable before! Not in so many years. I have had many women in my life, but I have never been cruel to any of them. I had not toyed with their feelings. Yet, anything small thing Anastasia does could make or break me! That’s the depth of my love for her. Anastasia is the only person in the world who can put me in a vertical casket with one of her disregarding look… That’s the extent of her power on me; it scares me to my core. My life and fate are in her delicate hands!
“I like control, Ana, and around you that just” – I stand, my gaze intense, “evaporates,” I say waving my hand vaguely, and then run it through my hair taking a deep breath. I clasp her hand.
“Come, we need to talk, and you need to eat.”
And, I’m ready to lay all my cards out, and I’m not leaving this battle without winning my woman back.
Gotta run to class! I've been up since 2 a.m. to get this ready for posting. Hope you like it!
