Darker (52 page)

“Ah!” she responds.

“Hush now.” I stand and slide the vibrator inside her. Capturing her face with my hands, I kiss her, then click the small remote.

When the vibrator starts, she gasps and jolts up on her knees. “Ah!”

“Easy,” I whisper against her lips, stifling her gasp. I tug gently on each of the clamps in turn.

She cries out. “Christian, please!”

“Hush, baby. Hang in there.”

You can do this, Ana.

She’s panting now and dealing with all the stimulation. I’m sure it’s intense. “Good girl.” I soothe her.

“Christian,” she says, and she sounds a little frantic.

“Hush, feel it, Ana. Don’t be afraid.” I place my hands on her waist, holding her.
I’m right here, baby. I’ve got this. You’ve got this.

I dip my little finger into the open pot of lube and slowly I move my hands down her back to her ass, watching her reaction; checking that she’s okay. I massage her skin and knead her ass, her stunning ass, and I slip one hand between her buttocks.

“So beautiful.” Gently, I push my finger inside her ass so that I feel the vibrator buzzing through her body. She tenses and I move my finger slowly, easing in and out while my teeth graze her chin. “So beautiful, Ana.”

She gasps, then groans and kneels up a little higher, and I know she’s close. Her lips start to move, but whatever she’s saying, it’s soundless. Suddenly she screams as her orgasm strikes. With my free hand I release first one, then the other nipple clamp, and she cries out.

I hold her close as her body pulses through her climax, still easing my finger in and out of her.

“No,” she shouts, and I know she’s had enough.

I remove my finger and the vibrator while keeping her in my arms. She sags against me, but her body is still convulsing. Deftly I unstrap the cuffs on one arm and she falls forward against me. Her head rolling on my shoulder as her intense climax begins to subside.

Her legs must be aching. She groans as I lift her and carry her to the bed, where I lay her faceup on the satin sheets. Using the remote, I switch off the music, then remove my jeans, freeing my raging erection. I start to rub the back of her legs, her knees, her calves, and then her shoulders, and I remove the cuffs. Lying down beside her, I peel off her mask and find her eyes are scrunched closed. With tenderness I untie her braid, freeing her hair. Leaning forward, I kiss her on the lips. “So beautiful,” I say.

She opens one dazed eye.

“Hi.” I smile down at her.

She grunts in response.

“Rude enough for you?”

She nods and gives me a sleepy grin.

Ana, you never fail.

“I think you’re trying to kill me.”

“Death by orgasm. There are worse ways to go.”

Like plunging to your death in
Charlie Tango.

She reaches up and caresses my face and my dispiriting thought disappears. “You can kill me like this anytime,” she says. Taking her hand, I kiss her knuckles. I’m so proud of her. She never lets me down in here. She cups my face between her hands and kisses me.

I stop, pulling back. “This is what I want to do,” I whisper. From beneath the pillow, I pull out the remote and change the song. I press the button, knowing it will play on repeat, and ease Ana onto her back. “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”
—
Roberta Flack’s classic fills the room. “I want to make love to you,” I murmur. My lips seek and find hers, and her fingers entwine in my hair.

“Please,” Ana breathes, and her sensitized body rises to meet mine, opening up for me as I gently ease into her, and we make slow, sweet love.

I watch her fall apart in my arms and her climax takes me with her. I let go, pouring myself into her, throwing my head back and calling out her name in wonder.

I love you, Ana Steele.

I hold her to me. I never want to let her go.

My joy is complete. Have I ever been this happy?

As I come back to planet earth, I smooth her hair from her face and look down at the woman I love.

She’s crying.

“Hey.” I clasp her head in my hands. Did I hurt her? “Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you so much,” she says, and I close my eyes, letting her words wash over me.

“And I you, Ana. You make me…whole.” I kiss her once more as the music stops, and gather the sheet and wrap it around us both. She looks glorious; her hair is a mess and her eyes are luminous in spite of her tears. She’s so full of life.

“What do you want to do today?” she asks.

“My day is made, thank you.” I kiss her.

“Mine, too.”

I love Ana’s inner freak; she’s never far away. And I think of the plans that I have for her later. I hope they will make her day, too. “Well, I should call my head of PR. But frankly, I’d like to remain in this bubble with you.”

“About the crash?”

“I’m playing hooky.”

“It is your birthday, Mr. Grey. You’re allowed. And I like having you to myself.” She leans up and grazes her teeth against my jaw. She looks happy, and free, if a little tired. “I love your music choices. Where do you find them?”

“I’m glad you like them. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep I’ll either play the piano or trawl iTunes.”

“I don’t like to think about you unable to sleep and on your own. It sounds lonely,” Ana says, her compassion showing.

“To be honest, I never felt lonely until you left. I didn’t realize how miserable I was.”

She cups my face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Ana. What I did was wrong.”

She puts her finger over my lips. “Hush,” she says. “I love you just the way you are.”

“That’s a song.”

She laughs and she changes the subject; asking me about work.

“WE’VE COME A LONG
way,” Ana says, caressing my face.

“We have.”

She looks wistful all of a sudden.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“The photo shoot that José did. Kate. How in command she was. And how hot you looked.”

“Hot?”
Me?

“Yeah. Hot. And Kate was all: Sit here. Do this. Do that.” Her impersonation of Kavanagh is spot on. I laugh.

“To think it could have been her who came to interview me. Thank the Lord for the common cold.” I kiss the tip of her nose.

“I believe she had the flu, Christian,” she scolds, and unconsciously trails her fingers through my chest hair. It’s weird, but I think she’s driven the darkness away. I don’t even flinch. “All the canes have gone,” she says, as she glances around the playroom. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t think you’d ever get past that hard limit.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” She turns and stares at the whips, paddles, and floggers on the wall.

“You want me to get rid of them, too?” I ask.

“Not the crop…the brown one. Or that suede flogger.” She gives me a coy smile.

“Okay, the crop and the flogger. Why, Miss Steele, you’re full of surprises.”

“As are you, Mr. Grey. It’s one of the things I love about you.” She kisses the corner of my mouth.

Suddenly I need to hear this from her, because I still can’t quite believe it. “What else do you love about me?”

Her eyes soften with her affection. “This,” she says, and traces her finger across my lips, tickling them. “I love this, and what comes out of it, and what you do to me with it. And what’s in here.” She strokes the side of my head. “You’re so smart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so many things. But most of all, I love what’s in here.” She presses her palm against my chest. “You are the most compassionate man I’ve ever met. What you do. How you work. It’s awe-inspiring.”

“Awe-inspiring?” I repeat her last words, not quite believing them but loving them anyway. A slow smile tugs at my mouth, but before I can say anything she launches herself at me.

ANA DOZES FOR A
few minutes, in my arms. I lie staring up at the ceiling, enjoying her weight on me. Could I be any more content? I don’t think so. She wakes when I kiss her forehead.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Hmm, famished.”

“Me, too.”

She puts her arm on my chest and studies me. “It’s your birthday, Mr. Grey. I’ll cook you something. What would you like?”

“Surprise me.” I run my hand down her back. “I should check my BlackBerry for all the messages I missed yesterday.” I sigh when I sit up. I could spend all day with her in here.

“Let’s shower,” I say.

She grins and together, wrapped in one red sheet, we head down to the bathroom.

Once Ana is dressed she takes all the wet clothes from last night out of her sink and heads out the door. Wearing a tiny blue dress, she’s all legs.

Too much leg.

Well at least it’s just us.

And Taylor.

I stop shaving for a moment. “Leave them for Mrs. Jones,” I call after her. She glances over her shoulder and smiles.

FEELING BUOYANT, I SIT
down at my desk. Ana is working in the kitchen, and I have a ton of e-mails and messages to get through. Most are from Sam, annoyed that I’ve not called him. But there are others…moving messages from my mother, from Mia, my dad, and Elliot, all begging me to call. It’s painful to hear their concern.

And Elena.

Shit.

Ana’s hesitant voice is next.

Hi…um…it’s me. Ana. Are you okay? Call me.
Her concern is obvious. My heart constricts as it becomes blindingly clear that I’ve put her and my family through hell.

Grey, you’re an idiot.

You should have called.

I save all the messages bar Elena’s and return to the most important voice mail, from the florist in Bellevue. I call them back to outline my requirements, and I’m relieved that they can help me, given such short notice.

Then I call my favorite jewelry store. Okay, the only jewelry store I know. I purchased Ana’s earrings there, and it looks like they’ll be able to help me with the ring.

If I were a superstitious man I would say that these are good omens for what’s to come.

Next, I call Sam.

“Mr. Grey, where have you been?” He’s pissed. Tough.

“Busy.”

“The press has been all over the helicopter story. There are several TV news and print outlets that want an interview—”

“Sam—draw up a statement. Tell them Ros and I are fine. And send it through to me for approval. I’m not interested in doing any interviews. Print, TV, or otherwise.”

“But, Christian, this is a great opp—”

“The answer’s no. Get me the statement.”

He’s silent for a moment, publicity whore that he is. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” he says, tight-lipped. I hear, and ignore, his reluctance, but I’m beginning to think I need a new PR person. His credentials were seriously overstated when we checked his references.

“Thanks, Sam.” I hang up.

I buzz Taylor on the internal phone system.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grey.”

“What news?”

“I’ll come down, sir.”

Taylor tells me that
Charlie Tango
has been found, and that a recovery crew is on its way with an FAA official and someone from Airbus,
Charlie Tango
’s manufacturer.

“I hope they’ll be able to provide some answers.”

“I’m sure they will, sir,” says Taylor. “I’ve e-mailed you a list of people you should call.”

“Thanks. There’s one more thing. I’m going to need you to pop down to this store.” I explain what I’ve discussed with the jeweler. Taylor gives me a broad grin.

“With pleasure, sir. Will that be all?”

“For now, yes. And thanks.”

“You’re most welcome, and happy birthday.” He gives me a nod and leaves.

I pick up the phone and start making my way through Taylor’s list of calls.

While I’m on the phone giving a report to the FAA, an e-mail from Ana pops up.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Lunch

Date:
June 18 2011 13:12

To:
Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

I am e-mailing to inform you that your lunch is nearly ready.

And that I had some mind-blowing, kinky fuckery earlier today.

Birthday kinky fuckery is to be recommended.

And another thing—I love you.

A x

(Your fiancée)

I’m sure Mrs. Wilson on the other end of the phone at the FAA can hear my smile. With one finger, I type a response.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Kinky Fuckery

Date:
June 18 2011 13:15

To:
Anastasia Steele

What aspect was most mind-blowing?

I’m taking notes.

Christian Grey

Famished and Wasting Away After the Morning’s Exertions CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

P.S.: I love your signature.

P.P.S.: What happened to the art of conversation?

I conclude the phone call with Mrs. Wilson and leave my study to find Ana.

She’s concentrating hard. I tiptoe up to the kitchen counter as she types into her phone. She presses send, looks up, and jumps when she sees me smirking at her. I bound around the kitchen island, pull her into my arms, and kiss her, taking her by surprise once more. “That is all, Miss Steele,” I say when I release her, and I stroll back into my study feeling ridiculously pleased with myself.

Her e-mail is waiting.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Famished?

Date:
June 18 2011 13:18

To:
Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

May I draw your attention to the first line of my previous e-mail informing you that your lunch is indeed almost ready…so none of this famished and wasting away nonsense. With regard to the mind-blowing aspects of the kinky fuckery…frankly—all of it. I’d be interested in reading your notes. And I like my bracketed signature, too.

A x

(Your fiancée)

P.S.: Since when have you been so loquacious? And you’re on the phone!

I call my mom to tell her about the flowers.