BOOK IV - Chapter XIX - Christian and Anastasia Fanfiction

CHAPTER XIX

FIRST THANKSGIVING

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…

George Sylvester Viereck, ~Love Triumphant

As soon as we walk through the door, I lock it and turn to Anastasia. Taking a deep breath, I walk around my wife appraising her outfit. I run my index finger in her shoulders as I walk around her with arrogant confidence, wordlessly. She closes her eyes first. When I come to stand in front of her, I trail my finger up under her chin lifting it up to look at me. She inhales deep and works on a hard swallow. As I run my thumb over the seam of her lips, she slowly opens her eyes up and her blue gaze meets my darkened gray gaze full of carnal desire.

“I want to make love to my wife,” I murmur with intense desire, my lips only a whisper away from her ear, yet not touching. A shiver runs through her.

“First… How do you feel, baby?”

“Good,” she says, her voice croaks in a high pitch. She clears her throat, and repeats, “I’m great. Just great!” I hide a smile.

“Well then,” I say and lean down to seal her lips with mine. The second we connect, I feel her accumulated hunger matching and overtaking mine. She doesn’t jsut want to be kissed; she wants to be claimed. I take a firm and intense possession of her mouth; plundering, pleasing, and reacquainting. Her lips are soft, moist and demanding. She nips my lower lip, grazing along, then gently soothing with her tongue then tasting me with her mouth again. Hitching her right leg over my thigh, she’s ready to climb up on me. I support her by lifting her buttocks and pressing her onto my erection. My day old barely present stubble is just enough to scrape her soft skin. As I run it across her chin and neck, she tilts her head back as she shudder, and gives me full access.

Leonard Cohen – A Thousand Kisses Deep

I drop one shoulder of her dress, and expose the delicate strapless lace bustier pushing her swelling breasts. I reach between them and coax out her left breast. Even though there is no temperature variation in the room, her nipple tightens and perks up as if seeking my full attention. I cup it in my hand and a desperate moan escapes her, immediately hardening me further. With a swift move, I grasp her buttocks and completely raise her off the floor and bring her breast up to my mouth. Capturing the nipple now extending towards my lips, I suck deep and long, first. I fellate and roll her nipple first between my lips softly then gently bite down just hard enough to give her a jolt of pleasure down in her sex but not enough to hurt. Her body is in full attention mode now. An involuntary moan escapes her lips.

“Hush now,” I murmur. My lips travel up to her neck and her chin.

Her hand reaches to my tie, trying to loosen it. Then when she gets it loose enough, she fumbles with the button of my shirt. Giving up, she tries to slide my jacket off my shoulders. I take pity on her and let the jacket fall to the floor. She directs her attention back to my buttons, but, it is a difficult task when I’m working on pleasuring her.

“I want to touch you!” she moans.

“Do it!” I command. She tries to utilize both hand, and loses patience. The next thing I feel is buttons spraying around the foyer as she wrenches open my shirt, trying to pull it off my arms.

“Mrs. Grey… Ana!” To get her attention, I bend my head and suckle her heavy, aching breast. She arches her head back as her heady taste hits my tongue. One of her hands slaps the wall behind to support herself as the fingers of her right hand digs into my back. This would have been an intolerable act just a few months ago, but now it’s something I completely crave. Our breathing is heavy, but I don’t want this to be a short game. I finally straighten up from her straining breast and turn her back to me, placing her hands on the wall then zip her dress down. Standing her straight, I let her dress pool at her feet. She has stockings clipped to her garter belt. I want those stocking clad legs and her Louboutins over my shoulders. I have to sacrifice the lacy panties.

“We don’t need these, Mrs. Grey,” I say as I rip the lace of her panties and pull the shredded contraption off her thighs.

“And one more change…” I murmur as I run my thumb over my lower lip contemplating. I free her other breast from the confinements of her bodice.

“Your hair…” I whisper and take the pins off her hair and let them tumble around her shoulder and breasts. Fuck me! She is a goddess! We’re both breathing heavily. I trail my index finger from her lower lip to her chin and then to her neck. I take my time in the valley between her breasts. Leisurely making my way down on her bodice, I find her visible baby bump on her belly. My hand flattens and caresses our child then travel down to her garter belt and then her pubic area. She’s completely hair free now that she’s getting regular waxing, save for a small landing strip. I run my fingers between her folds. She’s completely wet.

“You are so ready for me baby!” I whisper.

Then insert my index finger into her sex, then a second digit. I swipe my fingers around and already feel the tightening of her inner muscles. I slow down my movements.

“Oh, please Christian!” she pleads with me.

“What do you want Anastasia?”

“You!” she moans.

“You have me. What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss me… Down there,” she points, making me grin.

“With pleasure!” I say and l drop to my knees. I brush my day old stubble over her belly and her sex eliciting a long drawn groan full of yearning. With my feet, I spread her wider, and after swiping my tongue through her slit, I blow on her clit making her shiver. She puts her Christian Louboutin clad foot on my shoulder. I grin at her enthusiasm. When I dip my tongue into her hot and wet sex, I feel it pulsing under my tongue. Supporting her buttocks with my hand, I lift her off the floor and push her body to the corner of the two walls and keep her steady then really dip my tongue into her sex and probe and swirl exquisite circles. She’s practically sitting on my shoulders when her sex is an open buffet before my face. When I cover my mouth over her clit and the entrance of her sex and suck it, she nearly levitates off my shoulders, slamming her hands hard on the walls. As soon as I feel her core tightening, I pull my tongue back and let the spasms subside.

Anastasia laces and tangles her fingers in my hair forcing me to speed up, unable to utter a coherent word.

“Please, Christian! Harder! Faster!”

“All in good time…” I smile with the evidence of her arousal glistening over my lips.

“Please! Make me come!” she begs.

I run my hand over her stocking clad thigh and squeeze her buttock and seal my lip over her sex again. This time my tongue possesses her sex, testing her slit, I dip into her sex. I tilt her buttocks just the right way towards my mouth and grant a greater access to my ministrations. Locating her pleasure spot, I relentlessly massage and awaken her nerves. She clenches and her sex starts spasming. The heels of her shoes dig into my back deliciously as an orgasm takes over Ana’s entire body with my name on her lips. I suck every ounce of pleasure of her and only let her down when she’s limp as a rag-doll.

“The games have only begun, Mrs. Grey,” I say darkly and lower her to my arms and carry her to the bed.

“As much as I adore these on you, I want to see all of my wife,” I murmur, and take my time removing her bodice. Then I unclip her stocking and slide them down as I caress her legs. Removing her shoes, I pull the stockings off. Then pulling the the tie left on my neck, I tie it loosely on her neck. Finally, I walk her backwards to the bed, and gently push her down. She watches me with heavy lidded eyes. I make a show of removing my pants and boxers, and my erection springs out. Anastasia greets it with an excited gasp. I slowly climb over my wife and take possession of her lips, kissing, sucking. Without a break, my lips trail down to her neck. Her nipples strain out towards my lips for attention like luscious beads. I capture one with my lips and suck, hard while copying my movements with my hand on her other nipple. She lifts her hips up to get some friction trying to meet my eager cock.

“No, baby…” I remind her. “I want this to last!” It’s been a while since I’ve been inside her. I’m going to prolong and enjoy the feeling as much as I can. Quickly I trail my tongue down to her belly, her pubic bone and her inner thigh. Without touching her sex, I leisurely crawl out of the bed, and lift her leg up locating her erogenous zone under her knee. She nearly lifts off the bed as the pleasure hits her. I continue to travel down, and reach her foot. I run my stubble over her instep and slightly bite her heel. Then graze her foot with my teeth and finally get to her big toe and suck it leisurely, making her convulse with heightened pleasure.

“Christian, fuck me! Please!” I grin in response. Slowly put her leg back on the bed and palm my erection.

“You want this baby?” I ask stroking my length up and down.

“Yes! Please!” she begs.

Continuing to pleasure myself at the edge of the bed in Anastasia full view, I keep stroking myself. Anastasia scrambles to her knees, and moves to the edge of the bed.

“Mine!” she says, and grasping my ass with one hand, she takes me into her mouth. She tries to slide her other hand over my cock, but I warn.

“I only want your mouth. No hands!” I say. She looks at me challengingly. A wicked grin comes to her lips and she extends her hands before her.

“Maybe, you should tie me Mr. Grey!”

“You’re getting mighty bossy Mrs. Grey. Maybe I should,” I say removing the tie from her neck, I tie her hands in front of her. She sucks me deep. I reach to her hair falling and dancing around her breasts. I am mesmerized. My eyes crush close, but I force myself to open them again. The extreme pleasure is getting me close to orgasm, but I don’t want to come into her mouth. I want to conquer my wife inside and mark myself. Yes, I am fucking selfish and primitive. So, sue me! She’s my wife, my woman and I am hers!

“Enough!” I grunt, but Anastasia doesn’t relent. She continues to suck me, coaxing me semen. “Enough sucking baby! I want to fuck you into next week, now!” I growl, and push her back onto the bed. Lifting her tied hands up above her head, I slam into her balls deep in one swift move filling her completely. 

“I’m going to ride you hard, baby! Tell me to stop if it’s too hard for you!” I hiss through my gritted teeth.

“Stop talking and fuck me already!” she growls like a feisty kitten.

“Yes, ma’am!” I say and start moving. I pull out to the tip and slam back again. My head leans down and grasps her breast while I palm her other full breast. My mouth is wet and hot, licking, sucking, as my cock is fucking, and thrusting hard, melting into one another. Anastasia moans, reaching her crescendo. She’s quivering under me, trembling with pleasure. Her sex clenches my cock like a tight fist, determined to suck out every drop of semen.

“Oh, Ana!” I cry out letting go of myself, pumping into her, finally roaring like a male lion taking and possessing his female. When we both come back to our senses, her legs are still wrapped around me waist, and she's utterly exhausted.

“Mr. Grey,” she murmurs, listless, “that was incredible!”

“One more time…” I whisper. “This time, slow and sweet, my love,” and I make up the missing nine days to her most of the night.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them, there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance.

Niccolò Machiavelli

The man’s burner phone rings furiously, repeatedly, demanding to be answered. He knows immediately who it is. Christ! If his client’s rage was a physical entity, it would come out of the phone and beat the shit out of him already. He is a seasoned man. Not much scares or worries him. He’s after all been to eight years of combat and six years of mercenary and been a private security contractor for three years for those who traveled with their personal army to places even God didn’t want to enter. With his hired automatic heavy weapons of course. He doesn’t feel such emotions as compassion, empathy, mercy, awe, gratitude or love. But he takes pride in himself for being very good at utilizing his rage, hate, cruelty, avarice and revulsion. He enjoys other’s despair, hurt, anxiety, fear, helplessness and takes delight in watching them go through these emotions. It is his version of amusement, harnessed his abilities which took him years and lots of kills under his belt. Incidentally he made a lot of bucks while he was having fun. A man’s gotta make a living. At least he isn’t stealing it.

He finally decides to answer the fucker’s call. He puts his guns he’s cleaning back on the table.

“Fawkes,” he answers his phone. The voice in the phone pauses, and hesitates.

“You’re giving me your name?” the client asks in a baritone voice.

“A disposable, interchangeable, anonymous alias.”

“You stirred the pot!”

“You asked me to stir the pot!”

“Not before you informed me in the method in which you stir the said pot!” he retorts.

“I have given you more information than anyone could have recovered. Private… information,” Fawkes bit out. “Information you couldn’t have come by had you slept in the same bed with Grey, himself! His wife’s pregnancy was kept like a state secret. Now you know the name of her doctor, the hospital where she’s expected to give birth, her schedule, her best friend’s home layout. You asked me to make him nervous, make him feel that he is vulnerable. I did just that!”

“If you make him feel vulnerable at his weakest link, he will strengthen it and cover his ass! You should have learned that about him already!”

“Head of his security is gone on a three week honeymoon,” he says casually as if he’s not just been scolded by his Client. “This would be a good time to inflict some damage.” His client growls as if he’s speaking to an idiot.

“You’ve known this man for what, a couple of months? I’ve known him since he was peeing in his shorts. Do you think he wouldn’t cover his ass if the head of his security was absent for three weeks?”

“Arrogance would make people weak!”

“He’s arrogant, but he’s also cautious. Do you have information on who he hired to cover his bases when his main man gone?”

“Yes. A forty year old woman was added to his wife’s security detail.”

“How did you come by with that information?”

“I’ve seen her. Took her picture and ran it on a few databases.”

“And?”

“She’s ex-secret service,” he says casually. A string of profanities follow on the receiver which he momentarily takes away from his ear.

“Secret service? Do you see what you caused?”

“Relax! The last person she served was Mrs. Clinton. She’s old news!” The client on the phone knows differently.

“Did she serve her the whole term?”

“Yes, she did. Then she was recruited by another playboy like Grey.”

“She has got to be dangerous, and you can be sure that if she could protect a dominant, take control of everything in the hundred mile radius kind of she-devil like Clinton, you are facing your biggest challenge yet.” He wants to laugh. A chick! They’re mostly recruited because they have to fill the quota of diversity by whinny liberals for fuck’s sake!

“She is a woman!” he hisses. “That’s her first weakness.” What was it with the mercenary idiots that they trust their muscles more than their brains, thinks the Client.

“You can’t fuck this up! Remember who is paying for your service! I shall do some damage control now. Had you not riled Grey up, we could have had our chance in this three week window, now the eagle’s nest is safer than ever.”

“What do you recommend, boss?” he bits out, reluctantly. Even head dogs obey their masters for the bone they receive.

“Wait in lay,” his client says. He waited years for this to plan to work; It can’t be fucked up. He knows what hasty decisions cost him as was in the case with Hyde. He couldn’t afford another impulsive blow. This has to be calculated down to the last move. This has to hurt him, hurt him irreparably and inflict the greatest pain before he ends the game on his own terms sending a message that it was him who took him down and fucked his life over. He knows he can’t rival Grey when it comes to money. The fucker is worth several billions dollars and he stripped him to nothing but his revenge money he put away over the course of many years. Thank fuck for that! So, Grey showed deference when it comes to his wife. He loves her, the Client thought. Love, he snorts to himself in derision. What a fucking weakness! The biggest when it comes to taking down your enemies, an inexpensive, precious tool. Like guarding a billion dollar property with a thousand dollar lock! And to think that he made all kinds of effort to hide his wife’s pregnancy from public… Clearly, he is trying to protect both the child and his wife. How should he go about this?

If he damages pregnancy, she could certainly get pregnant again. It’s just a fetus. Oh sure, his wife might mope around and even get Grey tired of her, but that just isn’t pain enough. Not really. Men usually don’t get attached to the fetus. But a child on the other hand is a whole different ball game. He would be protecting the child like his most important possession, especially after he holds his offspring in his arms.

When, then would be the best time to attack? When? When? When? It would be too hard to inflict harm when the child was in their possession in his posh but well protected apartment. It had to be in the hospital. He makes his decision.

Let Grey think he’s safe and the incident with the paparazzi his man caused just a public curiosity, and nothing else. Grey has to feel safe if he has to loosen the safety strings.

“Here’s how it’s going to be played. I want you to be as stealthy as possible. I don’t want additional players in the game.”

“You want a long drawn out game,” Fawkes says his gaze drifting to the night sky from the 8^th story window of his hotel room. The traffic is moving like a steady ribbon below. The fog from the waterfront is moving in from the distance. He shifts in his chair, turning his attention back to the Client on the phone.

“There will always be other players like the wedding planner I fucked to gain access to the Kavanagh household who of course knew nothing about me. I managed to place a concealed bug. I will in the end make Grey the unwilling participant of your greatest illusion! Misdirect, distract, and control.” Control! The Client instantly loves the sound of that. It’s his favorite word after all. His cock even twitches with the word and he doesn’t even swing that way.

“Go on…” Fawkes’ Client says concealing his interest, feigning boredom.

“He’s going to think that this is about his wife and the paparazzi. The wife is just the vessel to the end goal. You cannot attack your enemy without understanding him, discovering his weaknesses and use it against him. This, after all has only been my reconnaissance. Your previous endeavor ended unsuccessfully because you used a dickless jock who did not do his homework and failed you both miserably,” he says as a matter of factly.

“What endeavor?” the Client asks defensively, further ensuring Fawkes’ instincts were in fact correct. So it was him who paid for Hyde’s bail in a feeble attempt to use that incompetent fucker’s anger against the Greys which apparently was a total flop. The man was emotionally involved. Emotions are always a downfall in a job. He isn’t emotionally invested and certainly wouldn’t fall into the same traps.  He knows that if you give people a really difficult task to do beforehand and give them a choice of doing the sensible thing and doing the instinctive thing, they’ll go for the instinctive. He’s learned that well in the battle field. It never fails: human nature is very predictable. People always go for the instinctive choice before a difficult task. Because, when people are mentally exhausted, they’ll operate with their instinct. It’s just simple biology. He knows this well because a predator learns everything about its prey. He knows that under duress and stress, people move and make decisions with their emotions rather than their brain. “I’ll be selling a different danger to fucking Grey, while setting up a trap for something completely different,” he explains. He knows how to utilize the persuasive intent. It’s become a second nature to him.

“I told you. I’ve done my reconnaissance. I’m involving the whole country in the ruse. The man is filthy rich and he isn’t even 30! On top of that he’s fucking handsome. Even if he wasn’t good looking, the women would ogle him for the money he has. He’s also got himself a nice piece of ass for a wife and she’s pregnant. It’s easy to stir the shit pot up and direct his full attention on something else while we set the secondary trap.” It’s a simple media tactic really. When there are important decisions are being made that would stir up the public big time, give them something else to chew on, like a scandal. Politicians use this tactic all the time: They toss a piece of bone to rile up the conservatives. The religious community would jump at that shit and the liberal fuck-heads would bicker with them back and forth. That’s when you move the ships at night when the public is stewing on a fake or some unimportant shit like that. Not even their soul would hear it. Diversion. Simple tool, but works every fucking time!

“How do you manage to do that?”

“It’s human nature that they crave gossip. It doesn’t even have be the real news. It could be ‘an onlooker said’, or ‘a source said,” or “a friend said,” even a ‘spy said’ and bam you have the fucking gossip whispered into those magazines. Attach a semi-credible picture to it and get it out in public. While he is dealing with the shit-storm, it shouldn’t be too hard with a hothead like Grey to generate news. And if we’re lucky, he smashes a few cameras, beats couple of reporters up, gets tangled up in court with those fuckers and will forget all about you or me. By the time I pull this shit on, my hand will be so deep in his ass, he won’t know where his body ends and my arm begins,” Fawkes says confidently. He’s assassinated heads of state before who were vigilant at every second of every day. This shit is just child’s play. He would do his homework well, and have another completed mission no matter how tiny the target is.

“How do you know he’s going to take the bait?” asks the Client. He’s interested in the plan.

“Unless he’s got a skin like the rhinoceros, he will take it, because the chick he’s married is on a tight leash. He is into her big time. He’d be possessive of his territory,” like any red blooded man with a hot fuck like her.

“Okay, but, I want a minor change,” the Client says noncommittally. “A swift exit of the package from the scene would be too quick end of the game. I want to exert prolonged torture to both of them. She suffers and he will suffer double. When he comes for the package, you take him out as well.”

“You’re the boss. But it will cost you. You’re gonna be keeping me on the retainer for at least six more months.”

“We’ve agreed on the price before. I will drop the money, and will let you know the place to pick-up. That will cover the incidentals.”

“My prices are set and non-negotiable. When we agreed, there was only one hit. Two hits will cost you ten million with the incidentals. You paid 25% of the previous price. I will have to ask you the 25% of the new price to be paid next week,” Fawkes says firmly as he moves out of his chair. His gun is completely clean now. He places it in its container as he holds the burner phone over his shoulder and chin. Once he locks the case, his hand goes over to grasp the phone. He is six feet tall, with military crew cut hair and according to the wedding planner, he has honey colored expressive eyes, or some shit like that. Some would call him even handsome. It wasn’t hard to charm the tight skirt off the wedding planner. She was easily taken with a rugged man with bulging muscles years of working out and a virile man who liked to fuck.  Women loved to go for that mystery shit and he is mysterious. Like a ghost. No one knows who he is. He has numerous aliases and seven different passports from seven different countries, all forged of course, but as far as the fakes go, no one could tell the difference. He could finish the job and exit the country for a while until the next call came for the next job.   

“I am well aware of your prices. I will pay you the next 25% but you won’t get anything else until the job is complete. If however the job isn’t complete and you fail…” the Client says, he cuts him off. The Client does not like to be cut off.

“All sales are final. No refunds,” Fawkes replies in a dominating voice. The client however doesn’t yield to other dominants. It ruffles his feathers.

“I wasn’t talking about cash,” he whispers in an ominous calm, but icy cold voice. “Just remember that I get my dues. I. Always. Get. My. Dues,” he says, his words are distinct and staccato. “Think of it as a professional courtesy. You would understand. You’ve been in the business long enough.” So, that’s how it was going to be. There would be someone else pointing the gun at his head had he not pulled the trigger. But, this wasn’t the first job, and he knows or suspects what the Client did in the past to piss this target off and he also knows who the client is. He isn’t worried. The job would be complete when all the pieces fall in place. And the final piece was still cooking in the oven.

“Fair enough. I want my money in my hand next week. I’ll leave another burner phone for you and text you the location. That’s the one you will use when I call you next,” he says. The Client feels assured and hangs up just a tad bit close to his triumph for first time in many weeks.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

Anyone who is in love is making love the whole time, even when they're not. When two bodies meet, it is just the cup overflowing. They can stay together for hours, even days. They begin the dance one day and finish it the next, or--such is the pleasure they experience--they may never finish it.

Paulo Coelho ~Eleven Minutes

Since Gail and Taylor are gone for three weeks, my mother called me on Sunday afternoon to lend Gretchen to us to cook and clean. I told her that it would be up to Anastasia since she is the woman of the house. My mother is happy to oblige and she calls Anastasia.

“Hi Grace!” Anastasia answers her phone cheerfully. I look at Anastasia curiously to see if she would like my mother’s gesture. I can hear my mother eager to help Ana knowing her grandchild is giving my wife a run for her money.

“How do you feel today Ana?” my mom asks curiously.

“I’ve been lucky to have about a five day stretch without nausea. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Sometimes some scents trigger it, but I’m slowly learning to distinguish those and avoid them at all cost.”

“I’m so glad that you had a break. It gets better towards the middle of the second trimester for most women. How was Taylor and Gail’s wedding?”

“It was wonderful. Everyone had a great time,” Anastasia replies.

“I’m so glad. I’ve called you because I thought on Gail’s absence you might need some help with cooking and cleaning. I’ve asked Gretchen and she said she’d be more than happy to help you for the duration of Gail and Taylor’s honeymoon…”

“The European pigtails?” Anastasia squeaks, her voice an octave higher. Then she clears her throat, and rephrases her question. “Uhm… the young lady who is working for you?” she asks.

“Oh, yes,” my mother sounds reticent now. “Has she offended you in any way, Ana? If she’s not making you comfortable, I wouldn’t want to send her to your home, of course.” Anastasia breathes out slowly, and gives me a nervous look. Why is she offended by Gretchen?

“I completely appreciate the gesture Grace. Thank you so much. You’re very thoughtful. But, I prefer not to take away your helper. Gail has already arranged someone else to come over for the time being…” she says and that’s news to me. Why would Anastasia withhold that information from me especially when someone I’ve never met is coming to our home to work and have access to her? I frown. She looks up at me nervously.

“Oh, great. I’m glad you have help, Ana. I was worried there for a while thinking you didn’t have help.”

“Thank you for the kind gesture Grace. I have plenty of help. How are Carrick and Mia?” she says immediately changing the topic. She tries to keep her voice steady. Why is she upset?

“We are all doing very well, sweetheart. Thank you for asking. Mia wanted to see you but I told her to not to bother you until you felt better. Oh dear! I just remembered! Is there anything special you would like to have for Thanksgiving or any food we should avoid of cooking? Are you craving any special food?”  This makes Ana smile.

“There is a short list of items that make me sick, but mostly what is served on Thanksgiving should be fine. I’m a bit tired right now, but I will e-mail the list to you if that’s okay, Grace,” she says to my mom.

“Of course Ana. The baby is going to go through growth spurs and resting is extremely important, darling.”

“I find myself napping twice a day now and still feel sleepy!” Ana smiles. “Give my love to Carrick and Mia, please. We are so looking forward to seeing you on Thanksgiving. Do you want us to bring anything?” she asks and I know she wants to end her conversation.

“No darling, just your lovely company,” my mother says. “Have a good nap, Ana. We love you, dear!”

“We love you too, Grace,” she says and hangs up.

I walk right in front of her. Fixing my gaze onto her heated stare, I raise a questioning eyebrow at her, accusingly.

“What?” she snaps.

“When were you planning to tell me about the help in Gail’s place?”

“What help?” Ana asks. Is she deliberately being obtuse?

“The help you told my mom that Gail recommended.”

“There’s no help!” she hisses. I don’t understand. Why would she lie to my mom?

“Why then….” I say then I stop.

“Mrs. Grey… Are you jealous of Gretchen?” I ask with a suppressed grin.

“I don’t want Miss European pigtails anywhere near your house or you!” she says, and “Our home and your husband,” I correct my wife.

“Well,” she says putting her fisted hands on her hips in a defensive gesture, “your wife doesn’t want the Miss European pigtails near my husband or our home! I don’t like her and I sure don’t trust that drooling bitch!” Her anger surprises me.

“Has she said or done anything to you to elicit this level of anger from you?”

“Honestly, Christian! I barely tolerate seeing her when I go over to your parents’ house because she’s so ready to rip her clothes off and kneel before you…” she says, then shakes her head, composing herself. “Never mind. I’d rather wait for Gail’s return. And if we’re desperate for help, I’m sure I can count on Melissa to help find a reliable help,” she says a little calmer. She then turns her back ready to leave the Great Room. I catch her arm.

“Wait! Why are you angry, Anastasia? Have I given you any reason to be jealous with anyone?”

“Really, Sherlock?” she bits out trying to get out of my grasp. I hold onto her tighter. God! Her hormones are giving me the whiplash with all the mood swings.

“I don’t care about her or any other woman, Anastasia. My mom only offered the help because she thought you have been sick and it would just help you out.”

“I know. I appreciate the gesture,” she says sighing. “It is actually very kind of her. I just don’t know why it bothered me, but somehow it does.”

“Don’t worry about it. We will interview a temporary help and make sure that you are comfortable with her. Okay?” I ask seeking her gaze. She doesn’t answer.

“Ana?” I say in a warning tone.

“There’s no one for me, baby. Just you. Just. You. Okay?”

I lift her chin up and she looks at me, “Yes,” she says nodding slowly.

“Okay. Now that we got that out of the way, come, I want to feed my wife dinner and then take her to our bed to make love,” I whisper lasciviously.

“Make love?” she asks looking at me hopeful.

“Yes, make love,” I confirm and she gives me a genuine smile this time.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

The next two weeks passes nearly uneventful. Anastasia has not made one complaint about her new security detail. Anastasia didn’t want Prescott tailing her from the get go. She could not warm up to her. Melissa Tiber is a lot tougher and more seasoned than Prescott.

“How’s Tiber working out for you, baby?” I ask as we’re getting ready to go to my parents’ home for the Thanksgiving Day.

“Tiber? I call her Melissa. Tiber sounds too Roman.”

“Roman?” I ask curiously.

“Yes. Don’t you know? Tiberius was one of the imperial families of the Ancient Rome. They had imperial palaces on the Palatine Hill, western slope of the Roman Forum,” she says and I look at her with my mouth agape.

“I know I haven’t taken you to Rome. How did you come by that information?” I ask quizzically.

“Mr. Grey, I’m offended. I am an editor at SIP after all. I read,” she says grinning.

“What?” I ask when she gets that mischievous smile on her face.

“I like it when there’s something I know and you don’t Mr. Grey. That’s all,” she giggles.

“Really Mrs. Grey?”

“Yes, because you generally know everything, and you are very good at it. I’m in awe of you and how much you know. But I do cherish the moments when I know a little more than you do which are very rare.” She giggles again.

“I know you read a lot Mrs. Grey, and I am quite impressed with your knowledge,” I say as I wrap my arms around from behind her. Her belly is protruding just a little with sixteen weeks of pregnancy today. I nuzzle her neck, trailing kisses.  My hands rest on her naked belly caressing it.

“Do you feel the baby moving yet?” I ask suddenly curious.

“Not as a physical movement per say,” she says, “ but I feel the butterfly movements. I don’t think we can see it yet from outside. Well, at least not until the fifth month according to Dr. Greene,” she explains tilting her head to the side giving greater access to her neck.

“I love the way your body is changing,” I murmur. “I love it the pink hue it gave your lips,” I whisper trailing my index finger, “to your lush, full breasts,” I say cupping her breasts beneath her lacy bra. I slowly turn my wife around and extract one of her breasts out of the cup, circling and kneading the pink nipple.

 “I love the way it readily responds to my touch,” I murmur and take her breast into my hot, wet mouth and suck.

“Ahhh!” she moans. I slightly bite her nipple and lick where I nipped her. Then trail kisses down her torso to her belly. Kneeling down, I hold her hips between my hands kiss the little bump, our baby.

“Hi Blip,” I murmur. “This is your daddy.” Anastasia’s breath hitches. Her hands tentatively move onto my head and caress my hair gently. When I look up at her from the floor, she’s gazing at me with full of admiration. They’re wide and brimming with tears.

“What’s wrong baby?” I ask, slowly rising to my feet, concerned. I hold her face in my hand and make her look up at me.

“Oh, Christian! How I have dreamed that you would do this, love me and our baby like this, with this intensity, with this level of awe and admiration. Now, I’m the one who is in awe of you,” she whispers, not trusting her voice.

“I love you both! But, you already know that. I am but a man who is madly in love with his wife and in love with his child to be born. Our. Baby. Half of you,” I say caressing her cheek and she leans into my hand, “and half of me,” I murmur. She opens her eyes up to look at me.

“Now, let’s finish getting ready,” I whisper.

“Nooo!” she protests. I raise my eyebrows, hiding my amusement.

“You just, did this to me, and now asking to just get dressed and go?”

“What did I do to you Mrs. Grey?” I ask feigning innocence.

“Turned me on, Christian! How can you be so obtuse when you just got my breast out, sucked me into near orgasm and now telling me to just get dressed?”

“Why Mrs. Grey, did you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, damn it!” I try to suppress my grin unsuccessfully.

“I’d love to, but we are running out of time,” I murmur as I deliberately run my index finger over her exposed nipple. It perks up like a little cherry. “Maybe, tonight,” I whisper.

She pushes my hand away and tucks her breast into her lacy bra frustrated.

“Don’t count on it!” she says petulantly and turns her back to go to the closet. I have a feral cat in my care. She’s wild and hot! I catch her waist and pull her back to me.

“I will choose the time and place, baby. Anticipation is half of seduction,” I whisper. I want her, but this is another big first for us: our very first holiday as a couple. I’m going to make it special. She purses her lips and narrows her eyes.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

Pale blue taffeta dress not only emphasizes her eyes, but also draws attention to her growing bust, and the knee length folds of her dress showcases her long legs. Anastasia’s dress is tied with a blue satin sash right under her breasts and above her baby bump.

“What do you think?” she asks with heavy lidded eyes. I lose my train of thought. I make a motion indicating her to turn around. She tries to hide a smile but opening her arms as she turns around.

“Did your boobs get two sizes bigger?” I ask with my voice husky. I try to pull the dress up just a bit to cover her very evident cleavage. She shoos my hand away.

“It’s very appropriate,” she says.

“Yes, but everyone will be touching your belly and your boobs are right there!”

She hands me her coat to help her put it on.

“Maybe you should keep this on the whole time. My brother and Ethan Kavanagh will be there,” I say.

“I’m sure they’ll behave,” she goads me. She turns her back for me to help her and I realize that the dress has a deeper cut in the back lower than her cleavage.

“Did you remove your bra?” I ask.

“Yes,” she feigns disinterest. “The dress has a built in bra to keep everything in place.” I groan.

“They’ll hug you and touch you. How long would it take for you to change into something else?”

“I like this dress. It’s brand new. Are you ashamed of me? Do I look fat?” she asks horrified. I know what she’s doing.

“No! I’m just protecting what’s mine. They’re for my eyes only.”

“Why Mr. Grey, I’m a pregnant, married woman. I have this dress on for my husband’s pleasure,” she bats her eyelashes. The dress is stunning. She’s trying to seduce me because she knows I won’t be able to resist. She just raised the stakes of the game and sent the ball into my court.

I hold her coat up for her, and she puts her arms in. Two can play at that game. I love a challenge. She just made it into a very exciting game for me.

“Well, then Mrs. Grey, shall we go?”

“Wait,” she says, and fixes my tie. Running her hands down my lapels leisurely, she watches my eyes darken with desire for her.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she says making me swallow. I hold her hand and walk out of our bedroom quickly before I decide to peel her dress off and make love to her.

The elevator ride down to the garage is silent. My gaze is fixed on Anastasia with its full intensity. She looks up at me and I tighten my grasp of her hand. She squeezes it back reassuring me, but not without that mischievous smile. What are you up to Mrs. Grey?

Melissa opens Anastasia’s door and I tuck her in the SUV. Sawyer opens my door, and I slip next to my wife. I place my hand on her leg and hear her breath hitching. But I don’t move it any further. She looks at me expectantly. I just smile at her in response.

When we arrive at my parents’ house, Mia comes barreling down as usual, but only after a “hi!” I’m pushed aside because they all want to see is Anastasia.

“Oh my gosh! Let me see you Ana!” Just as I predicted, her hand flies to Ana’s belly.

“I can’t believe it! I’m gonna be an aunt in just a few months. Can you feel the baby? Does it kick yet? Did you guys find out what you’re gonna have? Did your morning sickness stop yet?” Mia rapid fires her questions making Anastasia smile.

“Mia!” my mom admonishes her. “Let Ana come inside first. How are you dear?” ask my mom as she hugs Ana.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Grace!” she replies with a bright smile.

“Hi Ana! It looks like our grandchild is growing. You look beautiful. Glowing!” my father compliments her then shakes my hand as he pats my shoulder with his other hand.

As we walk into the living room, Kate Kavanagh rushes to meet us with a smile and my brother in tow.

“Oh, Ana! You look marvelous! Oh, your belly is growing!” she touches her belly, baby talking to her pregnant belly.

“Hi Ana!” my brother greets her. “Wow! Pregnancy agrees with you little lady! You look sensational,” he says and scoops my wife off the floor in a bear hug.

“That’s enough hugging, Elliot. I like my kid to grow to full term,” I semi tease him.

Ethan is next in line. His eyes are glowing with admiration.

“Ana, you look, wow! Just wow! Can I?” he says and his hand goes over to her belly.

“Stunning!” he says, then murmurs under his breath, “oh what the hell!” and hugs Ana twirling her around. My gaze grows cold and icy. I don’t particularly like others’ hands on my wife. Thank God she has not taken her coat off yet. It’s just been open in the front. But once she takes her coat off, all eyes are on her. The Kavanagh parents are there as well as Ana’s dad.

“Okay, let me get my turn to hug my daughter,” Ray says in a gruff voice.

“Hi, dad!” Anastasia greets him with a happy smile holding both his hands.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing much better, dad. Thank you!”

“I’m so glad, Annie. You look like an angel,” he says giving Anastasia a hug. 

“Did you call your mom?” he asks lowering his voice.

“Yes, well, no. She called me this morning. So, we spoke.”

“Me, too. She told me to check on you from time to time. She worries about you, you know.”

“Yes, I know. She asked me to visit when I felt better,” she says. This is news to me. I look at her pure attention.

“Anastasia, you’ve been on your feet too long. Let’s sit,” I say directing her to the sofa. Ray follows suit. I sit next to Anastasia crossing my right leg over the left on the knee. I extend my arm over to her shoulder.

“You think you might visit her?” Ray asks after he takes place next to her.

“Uhm… I’d like to. But, currently my morning sickness is unpredictable. I have good days and bad days. I do miss her though. A lot actually,” she says longing.

Mr. Kavanagh and my brother ask me if I caught the score on the Green Bay Packers and Detroit Lions game that was played earlier in the day.

“No, I didn’t. How was it?” I ask.

“Packers won 27 to 15. Good game! Well, we’re catching the game with Dallas Cowboys and Miami Dolphins now,” Elliot says.

“Hey Ana! Come and join the girls!” my sister pulls her out of my grasp. I frown but Anastasia shrugs giving me a smile and follows my sister.

“What would you like to do drink?” Katherine asks her.

“White wine or champagne,” Anastasia says looking at me with a barely concealed smile.

“Sparkling water or juice for her!” I chide.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel!” says Kate Kavanagh. I think the joke at my expense.

Anastasia’s face falls a second later and I see the reason why. My parents’ help Gretchen is in the room with a tray and she seems to be staring at me. Anastasia takes her juice and wine from the tray. When Gretchen steps forward to extend the tray to me, Anastasia steps in front of her.

“I got my husband’s drink. Thank you,” she says icily.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gretchen says blushing profusely. I rise from my seat and extend my hand to my wife for my drink with a grin.

“Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” she asks with one hand on her hip.

“I have a tigress in my possession,” I grin.

“I too am possessive of what’s mine. Are you complaining, husband?” she whispers back.

“Baby, it is so fucking hot, I’m salivating,” I reply back.

“What are you guys whispering about?” Kate Kavanagh comes, her hands on her hips. Sometimes her bossy attitude irritates the fuck out of me. Butt off! I’m talking to my wife!

“My diet,” Anastasia responds without a beat, though not without a blush.

“Come on Christian! You’re missing the game!” Elliot calls me from the entertainment room.

“Later,” I whisper into Anastasia’s ear, my voice full of wanton desire and then give her a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Come on man! You can do better than that!” Elliot teases me.

“Yes, I can. I just don’t put out a show,” I say, though there’s only my brother and Kate in the room besides us. Everyone else is either watching the game, or socializing in the back patio. Just as Anastasia turns her back to leave with Kate, I slap her behind, making her yelp. She turns and looks at me blushing.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

At the table I’m seated next to Anastasia, and my grandmother insisted on sitting next to Ana and that left my grandfather sit on the other side of me. But my grandfather in return insisted that my grandmother sits next to him to prevent her from constantly touching Anastasia’ belly since she was doing just that non-stop since she arrived at the house. I think the only person who didn’t touch Ana’s belly is Gretchen. Everyone else took several turns, some to my displeasure.

“Christian, I’m so happy that you and Ana listened to my advice! I am so happy with the prospect of seeing my great-grandchild!” my grandmother gushes. I smile at my grandmother then hold Anastasia’s hand and bringing it to my lips and kiss it. As I lower her hand, I put it back on her lap and place my hand right on her lap. To everyone else on the table, it’s a loving gesture from a husband to his beautiful wife. But my wife knows it differently. Anastasia looks at me with a barely concealed nervousness and blushes. She takes a sip of her sparkly water. My grandfather turns to Anastasia and mumbles an apology on my grandmother’s behalf for being nosy, taking her blushing as a response to my grandmother’s remark.

My hand leisurely travels up Anastasia’s leg under the concealment of the tablecloth as my father gives his annual Thanksgiving Day speech of what our family is thankful for, then starts slicing the turkey and my mother is talking about one of our Thanksgiving memories when we were very young. My dad is trying a new electric knife despite mom’s protests, and it’s not working the way he expected it to. He apologizes to us and my mom knowingly brings out the old bird knife as she calls it for my father to carve the turkey.

“What would I do without you?” he says to my mother with a smile.

“You shall never find out,” my mother replies, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. My dad returns to his task of cutting the very big turkey after overseeing it’s baking for hours, anxious for us to taste his masterpiece, still wearing his chef’s hat and apron that says in bold letters ‘Kiss the Cook’.

Meanwhile my hand reaches the apex of my wife’s thighs, and it’s my turn to be surprised. It’s not because she’s blocking my access to her sex, but that she isn’t wearing any underwear! Did she come here without any underwear in that short dress? Or did she take it off after she walked away with Katherine? Her sex is slick and aroused. I let out my breath slowly, and Anastasia takes a roll from the basket my grandmother passes her.

“Thank you,” I hear her say, then turns to me with darkened eyes and ask.

“Christian, would you like some?”

“Yesss!” I whisper in a tone only she can hear.

“Thigh or breast?” the question in my father’s voice takes me by surprise. I compose myself. Anastasia blushes and she closes her leg on me. I squeeze it back in response for her to keep it open.

“I’ll have some of each,” my grandfather replies.

“No you won’t!” my grandmother retorts.

“It’s better for you to have just the white meat. Think of your blood-pressure!”

“It’s Thanksgiving, for God’s sake!”

“It would be okay for him to have some, mother,” my mom calms my grandmother. “If he has a moderate amount, it would be fine.”

“The doctor has spoken!” my grandfather says smugly, “pass me some of the yams, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and stuffing too!” he adds.

“You can’t have mashed potatoes.”

“Can too!”

“I am hearing your arteries clog! No mashed potatoes for you, dear,” says my grandmother with finality.

“Fine, woman. But I’m having stuffing,” he retorts petulantly. Everyone around the table laughs at their banter.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

“The food was simply marvelous Mr. Grey!” Anastasia says.

“Carrick, please, Ana. And thank you. This is a big compliment coming from a pregnant woman. I have done my job well,” my dad smiles, completely proud of himself.

Praises come around the table from each diner.

“We’ll have our drinks in the living room and those of you who wants to watch the last game of the day, let’s go to the entertainment room,” my father announces.

“Christian, are you watching the game?” Ethan asks.

“I’ll come later. I think Anastasia wants to rest,” I say and he nods.

“Are you okay, Ana?” the women around the table asks. “I’ll take her to my room. She can take a nap there!” Mia jumps.

“Thank you, Mia. But, it’s my job to take care of my pregnant wife,” I say decidedly.

“Sure it is!” Elliot says with innuendo, making my wife blush.

My father gives him a forbidding look. “You can get me back when I knock Kate up!” he says which earns him a slap on the arm from Katherine Kavanagh and her mother nearly chokes on her champagne.

“Don’t be an ass Elliot! Ana’s been very sick lately,” Kate admonishes him.

“Sorry, Ana! I was just teasing my little brother,” he says half chagrined, half bad boy.

I wrap my arm around Anastasia’s waist, and walk her out of the dining room, lead her to the base of the stairs. When we are completely alone and out of the earshot, I turn to her with my gaze darkened.

“Do you want to explain me the no panties?”

“Which part?” she asks.

“Did you come here without panties, or did you take them off before you sat at the table?” I ask.

“Does it matter, Mr. Grey?” she asks coyly.

She’s toying with me. Topping from the bottom.

“Do you have a pair of panties with you?” I whisper. She shrugs noncommittally. God! I can’t even wait to go up to my bedroom on the third floor. I scan around and find the spare bedroom empty downstairs. Anastasia rises on her tiptoes and taking me by surprise; she reaches with her hands, pulling my head down and locks her lips with mine. My back to the wall, I pull Anastasia into my arms. I lower my left hand to the small of her back, while my right hand slowly goes under the folds of her dress, finding her slick, soaked sex. I slide one finger over her slit, skating it back and forth, eliciting a groan from my wife, swallowing her sound within our kiss. I dip my index finger into her inviting sex and mimic my tongue’s ministrations in her mouth with my finger inside her clenching sex. When we are breathless, I lower my lip to the shell of her ear.

“God, I can’t wait to be inside you,” I whisper into her ear.

“Are you feeling alright, Ana?” asks a concerned male voice. Ethan Kavanagh!

“She’s just a little light headed. I’m just holding her until the dizzy spell goes away.” I respond without a beat.

“Shouldn’t you lie her down? Do you want me to bring her a glass of water or something?” he asks attentively. Anastasia shakes her head, leaning her head on my chest. I dip a second and a third finger into her sex, and Anastasia’s breath hitches.

“Do you want me to get your mom?” Ethan asks. Fuck! What a pest!

“No. I know how to take care of my wife!” I bit out. “We’ve done this before. She’ll be fine in a minute,” I say moving my fingers inside her, pressing them onto her G-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure to get her off. I can feel her approaching orgasm. She bites down onto my left pectoral to stifle her moan, making my cock take off with desire.

“Okay. Hope you feel better, Ana,” he says as he walks away towards the guest bathroom down the hall. When Anastasia’s climax vibrates through her body, shaking her to her core, I pull my fingers out of her and support her limp body. I lift her off with one arm and make a show of tasting her orgasm. Taking my wife into the spare bedroom and kick the door closed and lock it.

“Now, Mrs. Grey. I believe it’s my job to make my wife feel so much better, I say and deposit her onto the bed. “What say you to that?”

She bites her lower lip, “You’ve had me at the table. I’m all yours, husband!”

“That you are, Mrs. Grey. That you are!”

In my Secret Life  - Leonard Cohen

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

Finally up! Congratulations to Seattle Seahawks on winning the Superbowl!