Grey (26 page)

“You were going to tell me this when?”

“Um… I'm telling you now,” she says.

“Where?” I ask, hiding my frustration.

“A couple of publishing houses.”

“Is that what you want to do, something in publishing?”

She nods, but she's still not forthcoming.

“Well?” I prompt.

“Well, what?”

“Don't be obtuse, Anastasia. Which publishing houses?” I mentally run through all the publishing houses I know of in Seattle. There are four…I think.

“Just small ones,” she says evasively.

“Why don't you want me to know?”

“Undue influence,” she says.

What does that mean?
I frown.

“Oh, now
you're
being obtuse,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Obtuse?” I laugh. “Me? God, you're challenging. Drink up, let's talk about these limits.”

Her eyelashes flutter and she takes a shaky breath, then drains her cup. She's really nervous about this. I offer her more liquid courage.

“Please,” she responds.

Bottle in hand, I pause. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Yes. I had a three-course meal with Ray,” she says, exasperated, and rolls her eyes.

Oh, Ana. At last I can do something about this disrespectful habit.

Leaning forward, I take hold of her chin and glare at her. “Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee.”

“Oh.” She looks a little shocked, but a little intrigued, too.

“Oh. So it begins, Anastasia.” With a wolfish grin I fill her teacup, and she takes a long sip.

“Got your attention now, haven't I?”

She nods.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, you've got my attention,” she says with a contrite smile.

“Good.” I fish out her e-mail, and Appendix 3 of my contract, from my jacket. “So, sexual acts. We've done most of this.” She shuffles closer to me and we read down the list.

“No fisting, you say. Anything else you object to?” I ask.

She swallows. “Anal intercourse doesn't exactly float my boat.”

“I'll agree to the fisting, but I'd really like to claim your ass, Anastasia.”

She inhales sharply, gazing at me.

“But we'll wait for that. Besides, it's not something we can dive into.” I can't help my smirk. “Your ass will need training.”

“Training?” Her eyes widen.

“Oh yes. It'll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me. But if we try it and you don't like it, we don't have to do it again.” I delight in her shocked expression.

“Have you done that?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“With a man?”

“No. I've never had sex with a man. Not my scene.”

“Mrs. Robinson?”

“Yes.” And her large rubber strap-on.

Ana frowns and I move on quickly, before she can ask me any more questions about that.

“And…swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that.” I expect a smile from her, but she's studying me intently, as if seeing me in a new light. I think she's still reeling over Mrs. Robinson and
anal intercourse.
Oh, baby,
Elena had my submission. She could do with me as she pleased. And I enjoyed it.

“So, swallowing semen okay?” I ask, trying to bring her back to the now. She nods and finishes her champagne.

“More?” I ask.

Steady, Grey, you just want her tipsy, not drunk.

“More,” she whispers.

I refill her cup and get back to the list. “Sex toys?”

“Butt plug? Does it do what it says on the box?” She grimaces.

“Yes. And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training.”

“Oh. What's in ‘other'?”

“Beads, eggs, that sort of stuff.”

“Eggs?” Her hands shoot to her mouth in shock.

“Not real eggs.” I laugh.

“I'm glad you find me funny.” The hurt in her voice is sobering.

“I apologize. I'm sorry.”

For fuck's sake, Grey. Go easy on her.

“Any problem with toys?”

“No,” she snaps.

Shit.
She's sulking.

“Anastasia, I am sorry. Believe me. I don't mean to laugh. I've never had this conversation in so much detail. You're just so inexperienced. I'm sorry.”

She pouts and takes another sip of champagne.

“Right—bondage,” I say, and we return to the list.

“Well?” I ask, gently this time.

“Fine,” she whispers and continues reading.

“We've talked about suspension. And it's fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods anyway. Anything else?”

“Don't laugh at me, but what's a spreader bar?”

“I promise not to laugh. I've apologized twice.”
For Christ's sake.
“Don't make me do it again.” My voice is sharper than I intended, and she leans away from me.

Shit.

Ignore her reaction, Grey. Get on with it.
“A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or wrists. They're fun.”

“Okay. Well, gagging me. I'd be worried I wouldn't be able to breathe.”

“
I'd
be worried if you couldn't breathe. I don't want to suffocate you.” Breath play is not my scene at all.

“And how will I use safe words if I'm gagged?” she inquires.

“First of all, I hope you never have to use them. But if you're gagged, we'll use hand signals.”

“I'm nervous about the gagging.”

“Okay. I'll take note.”

She studies me for a moment as if she's solved the riddle of the sphinx. “Do you like tying your submissives up so they can't touch you?” she asks.

“That's one of the reasons.”

“Is that why you've tied my hands?”

“Yes.”

“You don't like talking about that,” she says.

“No, I don't.”

I'm not going there with you, Ana. Give it up.

“Would you like another drink?” I ask. “It's making you brave, and I need to know how you feel about pain.” I refill her cup and she takes a sip, wide-eyed and anxious. “So, what's your general attitude to receiving pain?”

She remains mute.

I suppress a sigh. “You're biting your lip.” Fortunately, she stops, but now she's pensive and staring down at her hands.

“Were you physically punished as a child?” I prompt her gently.

“No.”

“So you have no sphere of reference at all?”

“No.”

“It's not as bad as you think. Your imagination is your worst enemy in this.”
Trust me on this, Ana. Please.

“Do you have to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

You really don't want to know.

“Goes with the territory, Anastasia. It's what I do. I can see you're nervous. Let's go through methods.”

We read through the list:

“Well, you said no to genital clamps. That's fine. It's caning that hurts the most.”

Ana pales.

“We can work up to that,” I state quickly.

“Or not do it at all,” she counters.

“This is part of the deal, baby, but we'll work up to all of this. Anastasia, I won't push you too far.”

“This punishment thing, it worries me the most.”

“Well, I'm glad you've told me. We'll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with everything else, we'll increase intensity. We'll take it slow.”

She looks uncertain, so I lean forward and kiss her. “There, that wasn't so bad, was it?”

She shrugs, still doubtful.

“Look, I want to talk about one more thing, then I'm taking you to bed.”

“Bed?” she exclaims and color flushes her cheeks.

“Come on, Anastasia, talking through all this, I want to fuck you into next week, right now. It must be having some effect on you, too.”

She squirms beside me and takes a husky breath, her thighs pressing together.

“See? Besides, there's something I want to try.”

“Something painful?”

“No—stop seeing pain everywhere. It's mainly pleasure. Have I hurt you yet?”

“No.”

“Well, then. Look, earlier today you were talking about wanting more.” I stop.

Fuck. I'm on a precipice.

Okay, Grey, are you sure about this?

I have to try. I don't want to lose her before we start.

Jump.

I take her hand. “Outside of the time you're my sub, perhaps we could try. I don't know if it will work. I don't know about separating everything. It may not work. But I'm willing to try. Maybe one night a week. I don't know.”

Her mouth drops open.

“I have one condition.”

“What?” she asks, her breath hitching.

“You graciously accept my graduation present to you.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes widening with uncertainty.

“Come.” I pull her to her feet, slip off my leather jacket, and drape it over her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I open the front door and reveal the Audi A3 parked at the curb. “It's for you. Happy graduation.” I wrap my arms around her and kiss her hair.

When I release her she stares dumbfounded at the car.

Okay…
this could go either way.

Taking her hand, I lead her down the steps and she follows as if in a trance.

“Anastasia, that Beetle of yours is old and, frankly, dangerous. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you when it's so easy for me to make it right.”

She gapes at the car, speechless.

Shit.

“I mentioned it to your stepfather. He was all for it.”

Perhaps I'm overstating this.

Her mouth is still open in dismay when she turns to glare at me.

“You mentioned this to Ray? How
could
you?” She's annoyed, really annoyed.

“It's a gift, Anastasia. Can't you just say thank you?”

“But you know it's too much.”

“Not to me it isn't, not for my peace of mind.”

Come on, Ana. You want more. This is the price.

Her shoulders sag, and she turns to me, resigned, I think. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for. The rosy glow from the champagne has disappeared and her face is pale once more. “I'm happy for you to loan this to me, like the laptop.”

I shake my head. Why is she so difficult? I've never had this reaction to a car from any of my submissives. They're usually delighted.

“Okay. On loan. Indefinitely,” I agree through gritted teeth.

“No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you,” she says quietly, and leaning up, she kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you for the car, Sir.”

That word. From her sweet, sweet mouth. I grab her and press her body to mine, her hair pooling in my fingers. “You are one challenging woman, Ana Steele.” I kiss her forcefully, coaxing her lips apart with my tongue, and a moment later she's responding, matching my ardor, her tongue caressing mine. My body reacts—I want her. Here. Now. In the open. “It's taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a fucking car, I'll buy you a fucking car. Now let's get you inside and naked,” I growl. Then I kiss her once more, demanding and possessive. Taking her hand, I stride back into the apartment, slamming the front door behind us and heading straight for her bedroom. There I release her and switch on her bedside light.

“Please don't be angry with me,” she whispers.

Her words douse the fire of my anger.

“I'm sorry about the car and the books—” She halts and licks her lips. “You scare me when you're angry.”

Shit.
No one has ever said that to me before. I close my eyes. The last thing I want to do is frighten her.

Calm down, Grey.

She's here. She's safe. She's willing. Don't blow it, just because she doesn't understand how to behave.

Opening my eyes, I find Ana watching me, not in fear, but with anticipation.

“Turn around,” I demand, my voice soft. “I want to get you out of that dress.”