Fifty Shades Trilogy 1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hello all! This story is _very_ different from Slow and Steady. If you have issues with BDSM or with Ana being a sub, then this is not the story for you. The love comes down the road but there's a bit of grit first. **

* * *

The dimly lit sign above the door was the same shade of purple it had always been, the Latin word _'Imperium'_ spelling out exactly what he was looking for tonight. It had been at least a year since he'd walked through the doors here; his last experience not exactly one he wanted to remember. But here he was, hoping to find someone to take into one of the private rooms for the night. Work had been one hell of a bitch lately as had the nightmares that haunted him so after his third sleepless night in a week, he'd caved and given Taylor the night off so that he could escape reality with a nameless, faceless brunette.

It had been months since he'd told Chloe that he wasn't interested in continuing the contract; a good three months since he'd bent her over his desk, fucked her so hard it hurt his pelvis and then told her to get out. Running into her or any of his previous subs was always a risk when he came here but it was time to find someone new so here he was, dressed like the billionaire he was, hand in his pocket, mint in his mouth, sex on his mind.

The door swung open before he reached it, his well-known face giving him immediate clearance into the private and very exclusive club. The doorman was new since last time but that was no matter, he'd have been given a look book of the most prestigious clients and no matter where he went, Christian Grey was considered prestigious.

"Mr. Kennedy, what a pleasant surprise," the hostess said smoothly on her way over to him, her own interest peaked to a level that was strictly forbidden by employees. The man was hot. Beyond hot actually. He gave her a disinterested half smile and strode into the main room as if he owned the place.

Arrogant wasn't exactly his problem, it was more hard earned confidence mixed in with a good dash of 'I don't give a fuck' and Hollywood good looks that had both men and women afraid to look at him and unable to take their eyes off of him at the same time. It had been that way since he could remember. Junior High had been torture, the girls all giggling and throwing themselves at him until they realized he was a grade A asshole who was never going to give them the time of day no matter how much tit they showed.

High school had been marginally better, the word out that Christian Grey was either gay or asexual had done wonders to keep people away from him. Sure there were a few who thought they could break through that tough, isolated exterior but there wasn't a girl in his life who he'd allow near him. He'd looked of course, thought of a few of them alone at night in between bouts of sleep and nightmares but never, not once, did he touch.

"Mr. Kennedy, a pleasure," the older woman crooned, her red manicured nails reaching for his hand while the other flicked her dismissal to the hostess who was still staring at the copper haired god.

"Ms. Monroe, you look lovely as usual," he graced back, kissing the top of her hand with the briefest of grazes.

"A drink?"

"Not tonight. I don't mean to be unpleasant but I'm not in the mood for chit chat or walks down memory lane." Raquel Monroe smiled and tipped her head slightly forward, fluttering her lashes as she did so. Dominatrix or not, she'd happily play the role of submissive if it meant fucking Christian Grey. As the owner of Imperium she'd had the pleasure of learning directly from his subs just how..._talented_ he was with mouth, fingers, toys and cock. Iron control was the phrase closely associated with his reputation and she, along with every other woman in here, would love to be the first to rattle him given the chance.

"Then let us not waste any more of your time. Same rules, same protocols as always." He handed her the $5k in cash without so much as a glance her way. "I'll reserve a room for you right away. Would you prefer a bedroom set up or a dungeon?"

"Dungeon," was his quick reply.

And with that she disappeared, slinking to the back in her skin tight black leather dress to an area unseen to the Doms and submissives that loitered in the cavernous space.

There were shows in the back rooms; he could hear the tell-tale snap of a distant whip, the murmurs of appreciation as one scene ended, the scrape of wood on the floor as another scene was set. The lights were dim around him, a layer of anonymity in a place that took privacy as seriously as they took their sex. Conversations were minimal, drinks were fancy and women were plentiful. He was no fool though, he knew he'd garnered a reputation in the community and he knew that not everybody was as careful in using alias's. Certainly there were people in the room who knew who he was by sight alone but here, where everybody has a secret, he could act out the needs that festered inside of him.

When he'd first been brought here he'd been put on display as punishment. He had flown home from Harvard in first class as usual but this time there had been a girl in the seat next to him, a brunette no older than he was and while he wasn't exactly friendly, he hadn't been rude to her either. So when they departed the plane and she handed him her number he'd done the polite thing and pocketed it until she was out of sight and then he'd thrown it away.

But _she'd_ seen it and that had been enough. For two days she denied him a physical release and instead had paraded him around her house in nothing but a steel cock cage, unlocking it only when he slept. His parents had expected him home on Friday, a small lie he had told so that he'd have two uninterrupted days with his mentor and Domme before being forced into Thanksgiving at his parents' vacation home in Montana.

By the end of the second day he wished he'd just flown straight to Bozeman but he'd see this punishment through just as he had all of the prior ones. No matter how many times she whipped him, caned him or flogged him he didn't break. _Wouldn't_ break. Emotion was something he'd never share with anyone. But to bring him to the brink of orgasm over 20 times only to stop at the very last second was too much to bear even for a man with his resolve. He'd been on the brink of begging when she had him dress and then had ordered him in the car. At first he thought his torture was over. But he had been wrong.

As the coup de grace of his punishment, she had brought him here. Her playground when he was away she'd said, the sting of jealousy burning in his gut. It was in the room all the way to the left in the back that she'd splayed him over a wooden horse, ankles and wrists tied to the posts so that he was exposed to everyone around him. It was no accident that she'd only invited men to watch knowing that for Christian, there were few things more humiliating but he had said nothing. No safe word, no slow word, nothing. He would never beg her or anyone for anything.

She'd milked him four times in less than an hour and while the first few times had been sweet relief by the end he was as close to tears as he'd been since childhood. Around him the spectators laughed at his sweaty, trembling body, the jerky involuntary movements as embarrassing as they were painful with each swipe of her hand over his dick.

He'd been 19. She had been 41.

After that it took four years and an actual act of God before he'd set foot in the place again and that was only out of desperation. Every time he came here it was out of desperation. After things had ended with Elena he'd joined an underground club that catered exclusively to Doms and subs in training, a program so rigorous and satisfying that he finished it in half the time, graduating to a coveted $100k a year Dominant membership to Imperium.

It had taken him another three months with a sub who couldn't fuck for shit before he'd given up and strolled in. Nobody had recognized him and if they had, they hadn't mentioned it. His confidence in the club restored he chose a girl tethered to the left wall and without a word led her to a private room.

She had been ideal. His type to a T. Petite, thin, fair skinned and brunette. He'd had all types of women before, Elena had made sure that he'd tried every age, race and size but he always chose the small brunettes when he had his way.

Her name had been Leigh and she'd been perfect. Quiet, blank faced and impressed by his skill and his size she gave him full access to her body. The next week she was there again and again he brought her into a private room. For six Saturdays in a row he met her at the club, hardly a word exchanged between them but still finding their unorthodox relationship the most satisfying thing he'd had since Elena.

So satisfying that after the sixth weekend he'd cancelled his meetings for the following week and worked with the club's acquisitions director to secure the equipment and designer that he wanted. In less than five working days he had his own playroom put into his brand new apartment with every piece of equipment and every type of implement imaginable. The following Saturday he offered Leigh a contract to which she signed immediately without even looking at it, her eagerness betraying the cool exterior she strived for. He should have known then that theirs was not an arrangement without emotions.

They'd spent close to five months together, each weekend the same until one day he'd arrived home on a Friday to find her still dressed and sitting on the couch waiting for him. He'd known this was coming. He'd known for weeks now but he had ignored it and pulled back more, their conversations going from friendly to nonexistent. He'd become harsher with her, less interested in her pleasure and more aloof during their interactions. So when she told him she'd fallen in love with him it had been easy to terminate the contract on the spot. Love had no place in his life which meant she had no place in his life.

His only regret? He hadn't fucked her before he'd tossed her out, a problem easily rectified when he went to Imperium the following night and to chose another brunette to take into one of the back rooms.

For five years it had continued like that; one sub after another, some lasting a few months, some a little longer but none, not one, able to get past sex with a side of disconnect. It made no difference that he'd handpicked each one or that they were all successful in their own right with a lot to offer. It didn't cross his mind to engage his emotions with any of them. Why bother?

Yes, he was good to them even going so far as to learn a bit about each of their families so that he could be sensitive to their personal issues but that was all part of being a good Dom.

And Christian Grey was the best. Just ask the fifteen long term subs he'd had or the countless trainees he'd spent time with. Nobody came close to what he had to offer. Money, power, experience, competence and a dick that would make a seasoned porn star blush.

So while he preferred the safety and consistency of a dedicated submissive, he recognized that Imperium was a means to an end and embraced it as such. It's existence was singular. Connect people that wanted to dominate with those who wanted to submit.

Dominate. Just the word had him puffing up his chest. Nobody had noticed him yet since he'd stayed to the edge of the room, preferring to observe for a bit before making a decision. But it was time to move, his dick was begging for some female attention and his hands were begging for a whip.

Around him the air shifted as he walked into the belly of the room, his gaze not lingering on anything or anyone in particular. This was part of the game, acting aloof and unconcerned but to Christian, this wasn't a game, this was his reality. His name may not be on the deed to the club but he owned this place the same as he owned anywhere he went.

Doms nodded in quiet acknowledgement at his presence while subs, the ones not collared at least, trained their eyes to the floor in the hope that he'd notice them. He didn't. Not really.

And then…he did.

She stood at the bar, her face turned towards the woman talking in low tones as they sipped their drinks, her hair sleek to the center of her back. She wore a simple black skirt and black tank top. On her feet were heels but not the stilettos he was used to seeing in places like this. He watched her speak quietly with the bartender and the woman who appeared to be a friend, willing her to turn around so that he could see her face but she didn't move except for the slight wave of a hand or shift of her feet while she spoke.

She may not have moved towards him but she felt him, knew she was being watched, knew it was a Dom just by the sense of authority she felt fall over her. Such a welcome feeling and one she hadn't experienced for quite some time now. She continued to listen to her friend Amy go on about her latest Domme and nodded sympathetically when she was supposed to but her attention was behind her. On him. A force unseen but felt. _God please let him be attractive._

As if thunder were about to clap she felt the air tighten around her, felt the buzz of energy on her skin right before a storm starts. He was closer, she could feel him inside, could feel the swirl of something dark and unbidden come to the surface of her dying libido. When Amy stopped talking and looked down she stilled, all thoughts centering on what she would see when she turned around. Because if this force between them was an apparition, she was going home and giving up.

One black heel crossed in front of the other, her slim body and her face turning towards him, his heart rate kicking up at the way her hips moved, the way her hair swayed. And then she was there. Looking at him briefly before lowering her gaze to his shoes and_ holy shit_ what the sight of her did to his cock was crazy.

"You may look at me," he said demonstratively, boxing her in so that her only option to get away from him was through her friend who was making a hasty exit without needing to be told. _Good girl._ When she met his eyes the thunder clapped, the force of it like a bolt to his chest. _What the fuck?_ He wondered, his index finger tapping on the cold tumbler in his hand the only indication that something had thrown him off his game. "Your name?"

He watched her lips part, imagined them closing around his cock and then held his breath when her tongue quickly licked them before retreating into what was, undoubtably, a very lovely mouth. He'd be sure to fuck it tonight.

"Stasia, Sir." _Stasia. How beautiful. And unique._ Much like her eyes, muted in the darkness of the room but still hinting at something amazing.

"Stasia. Your real name?" She hesitated, looking back at her shoes to keep from biting her lip and giving away her trepidation.

"A nickname but one I use here at the club."

She exhaled. Somehow she'd managed to answer him without stuttering. He was gorgeous. Not just gorgeous, drop dead, unbelievably perfect, Greek god status gorgeous. She did a quick inventory. Waxed from underarm to ankle? Check. Lotioned and smooth? Check. Nails done? Check. Flawless minimal makeup? Check. Sexy lace thongs? Check.

_Be confident,_ she chided herself. _You are beautiful and smart, interesting and driven. He is just a man. A very very very good looking man but a man nonetheless._ But when he reached out one finger and ran it along the side of her face and into her hair to tug a few strands she almost buckled because just a man or not, he had her on fire.

_No collar._ His hopes soared along with the swelling of his dick but he pushed both down. Hope was for the weak and he was anything but weak. What he wanted he got. No hope necessary. And right now, he wanted this woman in one of those rooms.

"Are you here with anyone?"

"No, Sir." He relaxed then, the nerves that had frayed in the last three minutes falling back into place as he composed himself.

"Please, sit." She did as he asked, her legs crossing demurely so that her skirt rode up a bit higher._ Creamy silken skin._ Her spread legs would look so good against the crimson sheets in his playroom. "Wine?" She nodded and bit her lip and damn if that wasn't the biggest turn on for some reason. "Noir or Merlot?"

"Malbec actually. Please, Sir," was her hushed answer. Oh he liked this one. All sweet and soft, those eyes so hidden by the darkness still cutting towards him even though she tried to keep them down. He wanted them on him, looking at him, wanting him the way he knew his eyes wanted her.

"Look at me, Stasia." She did and before he could filter it the thought, no the absolute awareness that his life would be forever changed lodged itself deep inside his chest. He recovered before she saw the shock of panic that whipped through him at the unexpected onslaught of connection between them. "I want you to always look at me unless we're in scene together."

She raised her brows a bit and he laughed, "You think there's a question as to whether or not we'll see this to the end?" He tsked her and handed her the wine she'd requested. "Unless you're with someone, which you have already stated you are not, or you're into women, which I know you're not based on the way you look at me, then we _will_ wind up scening." He took a long sip of his scotch and Drambuie. "Tonight."

At that she bit her tongue. She was aching for it. Desperate for a good session that would draw out the pleasurable pain she'd come to love so much. But this man, though good looking and obviously wealthy judging by the suit he wore, was dangerous. She knew it. And Anastasia Steele wasn't looking to get hurt. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not a year from now. But still she didn't refuse him or tell him no.

"You don't come here often," she said softly, her boldness somehow adorable even though it should have been upsetting. "I'd remember you."

He couldn't help it. Her admission thrilled him.

"I do not. I usually have long term submissives and we get together at my place. Imperium is where I come for the occasional session when I'm in between subs or when I'm looking to get a new one." Which was, for the most part true. He'd come here looking for one night of fun but sitting across from this woman who sipped her wine with plum colored lips and long black eyelashes made him want to rethink that whole, no long term sub thing he'd promised himself on the way here.

He was too busy right now, too overwhelmed with the takeover of four factories in Mexico and six more in Cambodia. As it was he was barely home now, his weekends spent in foreign countries so that he could close these deals and move on to the next but this one, this slight of a girl here in front of him, she just may be worth skipping a trip or two.

"And you? What are you looking for tonight?" She looked up at him then, that bolt to his chest rumbling deeper still. He was so fucked and he knew it but he didn't care so long as he could have her bend to his will.

"I'm not a one time girl." She shrugged as if embarrassed but damn did that please the shit out of him for some reason. "I did it a few times, two to be exact and while it was satisfying at the time, the after effect it had on me was not worth repeating."

Guilt. Shame. Feelings of inadequacy had plagued her both times enough so that she swore off scening without a long term Dom again. Amy had told her to hang up her hang ups but Ana, no matter how long she was in the lifestyle, couldn't shake the emotions that followed her after those quick hook ups.

There was such a vulnerability in being a submissive, such a deep level of trust required that it had been emotionally taxing to give that to someone for just one night. They had both been good Doms and she had found pleasure and release both physically and emotionally during her hours with them but the next day, instead of feeling refreshed and sated, she'd felt exposed and raw.

"Do you struggle with it then? The lifestyle?" He asked casually but waited on her answer as if she had the cure for cancer.

"No. I'm comfortable with my choice and I enjoy it. If I weren't in the lifestyle I still don't think I'd be comfortable as a one night kind of girl. It's just not for me. Hard limit." _That_ he could understand and appreciate. So long as her sexuality wasn't shameful to her, he could work with her.

They sat in silence, both drinking from crystal glasses until they were empty. Inside she churned with longing, wanting so badly to know what this man looked like when he came. What he sounded like when he thrust. Just where his tipping point was, his point of no return.

He took one last swallow, his throat bobbing up and down as he drank. It turned her on more than anything she had ever seen in her entire life. Screw the morning after feelings, she wasn't about to let a man like this get away from her. Amy was right, she needed to hang up her hang ups.

"Christian Grey," he said suddenly, extending his hand to her. "Mr. Kennedy as far as this club goes." She took his hand, large, warm and smooth in her own. There was no way he didn't feel the line of connection there, no way he didn't feel the shiver that ran through her at the small contact. She recovered herself and giggled a bit, the sound somehow sweet in his ear. _God she was 16 all over again._

"I hate that they make the Doms take the name of presidents and world leaders here. It's so…strange." She relaxed a bit then, perhaps knowing his name had given her reason to trust him.

"Yes," he finally countered. "But in this lifestyle, privacy is paramount. Do you know who I am Ms…?"

"Steele. Anastasia Steele. Stasia is the name that I use here. And yes, I know who you are. But only by name since your office building is a few blocks from mine. I'd heard rumors that you were a Dom," at this she looked down briefly, "just in the club here but gossip is usually based on lies so…" Oh he liked her a lot.

"Yes, well, in this case, the gossip is true. I am a Dom, a good one and I want to scene with you. I've reserved a room in the back." There, he'd put it out there just as a Dom would. Some seduce, some say nothing and just take the lead but not Christian Grey. He said what he wanted and everyone did it, all he had to do was seal the deal. In this case, he needed her in that room so that the power dynamic would shift to his advantage because right now, she held all the power. He wasn't worried. He _always_ got what he wanted. And what he wanted was for his cum to coat her mouth before he bent her over and took her hard.

So imagine his shock when she knitted her brows together and pursed her lips.

"I'm not a one night girl, Mr. Grey and I'm sorry if I led you to believe otherwise." She stood, her knee brushing against his thigh. "I shouldn't take up any more of your time, it's already late."

_What? What the hell just happened? She was going? Saying no to him?_

"Anastasia, if you're not a one night girl than we will agree to more than that. Frankly I have no intention of letting you go and after meeting you, I would be quite upset should you find someone else to share your submission with."

Her face flamed, her sex dampened. But he spelled heartbreak and there was no way she could do that again. She hadn't even loved Dominick but he'd crushed her nonetheless. But this one? This man with the gray eyes that held so many secrets? She knew he'd take everything she had and at this point, she didn't have all that much anymore.

"I'm not as experienced as the other women here and I'm certainly not as open as them. I have quite a few hard limits, some of them deal breakers for most Doms." That part was true but her excuse rang thin even in her ears, "A man like yourself needs a submissive who can give herself totally to him and I'm not that woman, Sir."

He didn't give up, not when she stood in front of him, no more than a foot away worrying her lip between her teeth. The first thing he was going to do to her was bite that lip himself. And then he'd have her suck him so he could watch it glide over his dick. She took a careful step back, her small hand smoothing the front of her skirt.

Her movement brought him back to the moment. "Would you be willing to meet again? Perhaps for dinner so that we can go over each other's limits? See if we can work something out?" He'd do anything, _anything_ to have her even if it meant bringing her back to his apartment, something he only did after contracts and at least three good sessions here.

She shifted her feet again and he reached out, grasping her wrist so that one thumb ran over the pulse on the soft underside. God she was lovely. And spirited. He liked that.

"Dinner? You want to go out for dinner?" Well no, he didn't want to go out for dinner but it was a means to getting his cock inside of her so dinner was a small price to pay as far as he was concerned. It would give him a good hour to look at her too and that was well worth drifting from his normal routine.

"Yes. My place. Here is my card." On the back he jotted down the building and the code to the elevator in the garage. "Tomorrow, six sharp. You'll park in one of the slots labeled penthouse. Is there anything you don't care for?" She blinked, completely shocked at this turn of events.

"I…I'm not a fan of slimy shell fish." He smiled and laughed just a bit. "You know, oysters, clams, that kind of thing. And I think carrots are vile." He laughed then, the sound of it jarring in an otherwise quiet room.

"No slimy seafood and no carrots. Got it. Six o'clock, Ms. Steele, I'm looking forward to it."

Air rushed through her lungs then, relief at the opportunity to see him again, fear at what that could bring. The bouncer walked her to her car, the smell of new leather welcoming and familiar. For a minute she sat there, anxiety building in her that he hadn't left at the same time. If he was serious about getting to know her a bit so that they could pursue this, then why was he still in the club? Would he find someone to scene with tonight?

_You're being ridiculous, Ana. You just met him and you told him you were inexperienced and a prude. Why wouldn't he see what else was available?_

But just as she began to tirade against herself the door swung open and out walked sex on legs himself, a smirk on his pretty face. He pointed his key at a black Audi Spyder and climbed inside, the smirk now a small smile.

_Trouble,_ she said again to herself. _That man is trouble for you._ And though she knew she should walk away now, knew she should forget he spoke to her, forget the way he touched her, forget how damp her panties were just by his proximity, she knew she'd be there tomorrow because he'd told her to be there. And though there were no contracts yet, no rules or guidelines or emotional safe guards in place she also knew one thing was certain. She wanted to be his.


	2. Chapter 2

She was cute but incredibly annoying. Hand on her hip she pranced around his apartment as if she lived there herself moving the pillows around and then the few small pieces the designer had purchased as decorations. If she weren't his sister he'd have tossed her out when she first got here two hours ago but as irritating as she was, there was still something so endearing about her that he just let her get away with it all.

"I don't understand why you can't come to dinner tonight, Christian. It's Sunday. We always have family dinners on Sunday especially when you're not globetrotting. And why is Gail in the kitchen on her day off? Are you having someone over?"

Slowly Mia turned back towards him eyes wide, one hand covering her mouth. "You are! Oh my _god_! Can I meet her?" She swallowed and held out her hands, "Or him, whichever, I don't care you know." He bit back the laugh blooming in his chest.

"Christ, Mia. What I do here is none of your business and for your information, it's nobody special coming over tonight but yes, that's why I can't come to dinner." But that was a lie and he knew it because never, in five years of Gail working here had he asked his house manager to cook on a Sunday. And never, _ever_, had he invited a woman to his apartment so that he could get to know her better.

"Oh," her face fell, dark eyes clouding over with disappointment at his lack of a girlfriend. "I was hoping maybe you'd found someone." He pinched her chin the way he always did when he wanted to be affectionate with her eliciting a smile and a squeal. "I'll let mom know but she's not going to be happy. This is the first Sunday you've been home in six weeks."

She gathered up the few items she'd somehow strewn around the room letting the guilt settle in. She'd learned that little trick from her mother but Grace Trevelyan-Grey hadn't been so obvious about it. Still, the effect was the same and by the time she'd tossed her cell into her oversized Birkin bag he'd come to some sort of appeasement.

"I'll come by tomorrow, ok?" She smiled big at his concession. Victories with Christian were such a rarity that she'd ride this high for the rest of the week. "Tell mom I'll be there around seven. I'll even bring the dessert." At this Mia's hands clapped together.

"You mean you'll have Gail whip up that crème brulee I love so much. Perfect, I'll go say my thanks now and get out of your hair." At the elevator she whipped around, his instinctive reaction to close physical proximity making him back up so that she couldn't touch him unexpectedly. "By the way, Elliot has a new girlfriend. Paula or something like that."

"Girlfriend, Mia? Don't you think that's kind of a stretch?" Mentally he flipped through the rolodex of names of his past conquests. With a brother who has fucked half of Seattle he always worried about crossing each other but as far as memory serves, there were no Paula's in his past. _Shit. I wonder if he's ever slept with Anastasia._

"She's been around a few times now. Mom said he asked to bring her on the boat this weekend to see the foliage. Something about her being from New England or whatever. They call it peeping over there."

"The boat?" Her chin dropped to her chest, eyes widening at his response.

"Yeah. The boat. For moms _birthday_. Don't even tell me you're bailing because it will crush her." _Shit._

"I'll be there. Next Sunday?" One nod, tense and demonstrative with just a hint of that patented Grey Women Guilt Trip. "I said I'd be there, Mia." Damn, he'd planned on breaking in his new sub next weekend, Sunday morning and afternoon included so long as tonight went as planned. And it would because he always got his way.

"You'd better, Christian. Sunday dinner is one thing, but missing moms birthday is a whole nother story." And with that she was gone, the apartment rearranged and quiet without her. In the kitchen Gail offered him a taste of whatever it was she was making and he took it to be polite. If there was one person he was careful with other than his mother, it was Gail. Outside of the fact that he couldn't run his life without her, she was married to his head of security and even though he was Taylor's boss, he knew the man could and would take him out in a heartbeat if he hurt his wife. But more than that, he held Gail in a high regard and considered her part of his family at this point.

"Braised short ribs. Not bad if I do say so myself."

"Delicious. And the sides?"

"Mashed potatoes, roasted root vegetables and the Malbec you requested."

"No carrots, right?"

"No, Sir." He was pleased. And excited, something he hadn't been in a long time. Pouring himself a water he leaned against the counter and watched her peel the potatoes, the homey atmosphere betraying the cold man inside.

"My guest will be here at six. I'd appreciate it if you could stay long enough to pour the wine. After that, you are free for the evening." In other words, don't be in this apartment unless you want to hear some female satisfaction because the sound of Ana coming was all he wanted to hear. _I wonder is she moans or pants. Or even better, a mixture of both._

She nodded once with a smile. "Not a problem, Mr. Grey."

The playroom, as he referred to it, was clean and orderly but he wanted to prepare it for what he had envisioned for the night. His heart picked up it's beat a bit when he climbed the stairs, the promise of what this room held for him exciting him before he'd even brought Ana into it. When the door opened he breathed in deeply, the sandalwood and leather blending perfectly with the hint of citrus in the air. Add in the scent of a woman and this was the perfect blend of smells.

His scenes all started the same. His submissive in position, hair braided, panties on, knees spread, palms upturned. He'd take it in, relishing the power he held when he'd command her to stand. She'd follow him to the Chesterfield couch that faced the bed where he would bind her hands behind her back with the black silken ribbon and then push her to her knees. Then he'd sit, take out his cock but leave his jeans on and watch the reaction his oversized dick would get before blindfolding her. Eye contact was too intimate, a lesson he'd learned early on.

"Suck me," he'd command and she would with her hands bound behind her back so that there was no way she could touch him with anything other than her mouth. He was always patient the first time, never interfering or commanding but he'd guide her head when necessary and cum without warning. Once satisfied he'd untie her and then choose an instrument, usually his silk tipped flogger if she gave good head and the knotted leather if she didn't.

Sometimes he'd bind her to the cross, sometimes to the bench, sometimes to the carabineers in the middle of the room. But never, _never_ did he take a new submissive to the bed. Not for a month, maybe even two. Beds meant intimacy and that was never going to happen. So he'd establish the walls between them, make sure they understood what their arrangement meant and once he felt they grasped that this was only about sex and control, only then did he fuck them face to face and even then most of the time they were blindfolded.

So why then, in the fantasy of Anastasia he'd had while he jacked himself off last night was she on the bed? He'd thought it a fluke but then he'd woken up, hard as granite, the dream he'd been in hanging on to the fuzzy side of his conscious and there she was again. On the bed, red sheets framing her creamy skin and chestnut hair. Eyes on his. Face to face.

_How to take her tonight?_ He mused as he went through the drawers, the toys all new, all waiting to be used. Nothing held his appeal though. Not even the feather tipped nipple clamps that he'd been waiting to use for months now.

He shrugged, _I'll play it by ear._ _See what she likes and go that route tonight._

In the shower he ignored the massive hard on he had, opting instead to ride the edge of arousal that he so loved. He took his time shaving, made sure his nails were cut short and ran a comb through is unruly hair. Without any real thought he put on a pair of jeans and a white button down, opting to purposefully skip socks so that he appeared casual and relaxed.

But the truth was, he was nervous and excited and that, _that_ gave him pause. Because if there was one thing Christian Grey was not, it was nervous. In his study he knocked back a quick scotch, the burn helping to center him and give him the mental pep talk he'd stopped needing years ago. Sure, the first time he had a new sub to the house elicited a fair amount of energy but it wasn't anything he'd classify as nervousness. But the tightness in his chest and the way he felt slightly out of breath bordered on anxiety.

The pile of work on his desk should have called to him but he couldn't focus on it anyway. Instead he obsessively watched the gold clock on the mantle, willing it to go faster. 5:49pm. She should be here in ten minutes. His heart skipped, his mouth went dry.

_What the fuck?_

* * *

She slid the silver Saab into the spot he'd instructed her to and sat there willing her nerves to calm down. She'd brought only her purse, purposefully forgoing a change of clothes at home so that she had no excuse to stay overnight. This was just dinner, she kept repeating in her head.

But it wasn't. Because just dinner didn't make her feel lightheaded or nervous. Just dinner didn't cause her to exfoliate from head to toe, slather herself in thick body lotion and spritz herself in intimate places with the ridiculously expensive perfume Kate had brought her back from Paris.

_I will not sleep with him. I will not sleep with him. I will not sleep with him._ But as she said it, a small flicker of sadness crept in. She _wanted_ to sleep with him. _Oh god_ did she want to see what he could do to her. One last glance in the mirror, a touch to her lips of the plum colored gloss that matched the plum dress she wore and she closed her eyes, verbalizing her thoughts.

"I will not sleep with him tonight. This is just dinner to see if we're compatible. I will not sleep with him tonight."

Her hands shook when she typed in the number on the back of the card, her stomach dropping when the elevator doors closed and she was surrounded by her own image on the mirrored walls. She was pretty, and yes, she could say with confidence that she held a certain amount of sex appeal. She worked hard for the body that she had, spent hours running and training so that she was in the best possible shape. Evaluating herself now, she was appreciative of every drop of sweat, every early morning run, every piece of chocolate cake she'd denied herself.

Because she wanted him to want her. She wanted him to think of her the way she thought of him last night and again this morning and all afternoon.

When the doors opened into a round foyer she didn't stop to evaluate the pictures on the wall or the enormous vase of flowers in the center of the table. She didn't notice the camera in the ceiling or the click when the heavy walnut doors opened because there he was.

Her breath flew right out of her in a gasp that she tried to hide but she was sure he heard it since she'd heard his. Because in the light of day, without the muting darkness of the club, he was, in a word, stunning.

He stared at her for a few seconds, words failing him when he finally saw the bright blue of her eyes. So clear and perfectly powder blue they almost hurt to look at but then her scent drifted to him and he remembered himself, leaning in to grasp her elbow and steer her inside.

"Ms. Steele, I'm glad you came." _Oh god_ just his voice had her wanting him.

"Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Grey." Sir would wait until they'd signed the contract and set their ground rules but for now, they stood on even playing fields though if one were to observe from afar, you'd have to give the advantage to the woman in the plum dress who made the dominating man in front of her speechless.

_Breathtaking_, he thought as he took her in. In all of his life, he had never understood what that word really meant. He'd never had the time for such flowered language. How can a person take your breath away? It was a stupid notion. But Anastasia had done it with nothing more than a smile.

"Please, come in. My house manager is just finishing up dinner for us. I trust you found the building ok?" She smiled again, this time right at him and his breath did that funny thing where it rushed out of his lungs while his fingertips began to tingle with the want to touch her.

"I did, thank you. I'm not far from here. Only about twelve blocks or so." She paused and looked around. "It smells wonderful."

"I hope you're hungry, Mrs. Taylor would be most upset if you only picked at her creation." She did it again, smiled up at him, the look bordering on innocent even though he knew better. _And those eyes...holy shit those eyes._

"Oh, I'm an eater. So long as it's not"

"Slimy or carrots," he finished for her with a chuckle. "Come, I'll show you around while we wait." He took her through the apartment, skipping over the top floor where the playroom and, hopefully, her room were. When they reached the end of the hallway where his bedroom was he turned her around, mindful that though he was unnervingly comfortable with her, she _was_ still a submissive and not privy to his private areas.

In the library she ooh'd and ahh'd over books, her finger delicately running over the leather bindings, twirling the oversized globe in the center of the room and finally coming to rest on that plump bottom lip he was dying to taste.

"You like to read?" he asked from the doorway where he observed her every move. She sighed, stretched out her arms and sank into the oversized suede couch.

"What was my tell? Is it that obvious?" Her blue eyes sparkled. _Mesmerizing_. "I do. I would do nothing but read and sing if I had my way."

"What about sex?" Shit, he wanted to kick himself for being so obnoxious but leaving that off, well that told him one of two things. Either sex wasn't important to her or she'd had lovers who didn't know how to do it right.

She turned ten shades redder and stood, smoothing out that lightweight dress over curves that screamed of sensuality and lustful promises and smiled shyly at him through a curtain of thick lashes.

"OK, I'd mix in some sex too." He almost laughed. By the time he was done with her, sex would be the _only_ thing she'd want.

"Mr. Grey, dinner is ready." Mrs. Taylor nodded once to Ana, a gracious and genuine smile accompanied by the peaceful presence that followed her. "Ms. Steele, it's lovely to meet you. This way, please."

Ever the gentleman he let her walk out ahead of him, his hand moving to her lower back. The shifting of her tiny back muscles, the beginning of the curve to her ass, it was too much for him not to notice so when they walked past the great rooms windows and she stopped, twirling around to grab his forearm he didn't have time to notice or react.

"Oh my goodness! Look at this view!" Her fingers barely touched him but he felt them like hot pokers stoking the desire that lay simmering beneath the surface. He was going to lose his mind if he didn't have her tonight. She stared out the window at the setting sun, the orange glow bringing out the red highlights in her hair. Turning to him with eyes wide with wonder she sighed, "You get to see this every day. How fortunate for you."

Fortunate? He'd never thought about it that way. Internally he conceded that yes, he probably did have a better view of the city than most.

Always the gentleman he pulled her chair out for her, breathing in her scent when she moved next to him. There was something so female about her, so delicate and gentle that it brought out the alpha male in him in a way he'd not previously experienced. _Protective,_ he mused, he felt protective.

Over dinner they touched on safe topics; movies that they'd both seen, books they'd both read, politicians they both supported but what Christian really wanted to know, what Ana was dying to discuss, was where this was headed because right now, the sexual tension was unbearable.

When he had cleared the dinner dishes away, she was, after all, still a guest at this point, he sat back down and waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. Between them they had a few sips of wine left, just enough to have a quick conversation before they signed the contract. He could almost feel his balls lift at the want to empty into her.

"Thank you for dinner, it was amazing. Please pass my thanks on to Mrs. Taylor ." Her lithe body slipped back into the chair, her legs crossing under the table hidden from his view. "I looked you up. Google," she blushed, reaching for her wine glass. "I'm intelligent but I don't really understand what it is you do. How can you take companies from someone if they own it and don't want to give it up? How is that legal?"

"Are you really interested?" She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes captivating him to the point of stupid. _What had she asked him?_ "Answer me one question then. It's been eating at me since last night." She got serious and crossed her hands over her lap ready for whatever he was going to lob at her.

"Are your eyelashes real? Because my sister glues hers on and yours are longer than hers are but they don't look fake." She laughed then, an honest to goodness, head back, mouth open laugh.

His heart split. Warmed up right there at the dining room table to the sound of her joy.

"Yes, they're real! In my entire life nobody's ever asked me that before," she continued to laugh.

"No one's asked you but they've all wondered it I bet." He settled back and watched her until she calmed down, taking the last sip of wine between sinful lips. "Now, what I do," he started, explaining his business in detail reserved for, well, nobody. He never wasted time on conversations like this but for some reason, it seemed important to tell her. To fill her in on the things in his life outside of the lifestyle so that she could make the decision to sign with him.

She watched him, his mouth moving as the words came out, the low timbre of his voice enough to bring her to her knees. _My god he's beautiful._ She listened to him as best she could but she was more interested in the way his hands moved when he spoke and the way his eyes lit up at the obvious love he had for his profession. It was endearing to watch this man, so dominating in all aspects of his life, grow animated and excited about mergers and acquisitions.

"And what about you? What is it that you do for a living, Anastasia?"

"I'm a musician. I sing. And teach," she stumbled over the words, rattled at having to talk about herself. A vision of her with him at the piano flitted by, his harsh blink pushing it away as quickly as it came. _Nonsense._ "I'm a vocal coach and a guitar teacher. I have a small studio not far from your office, actually. It's my own business," she rushed to add, "obviously not like yours but mine nonetheless."

"I'm impressed."

"By what?" she laughed. "It's a small business but I'm happy to be doing what I love. I also edit electronic books in my spare time for self publishing authors. I do alright financially but I've got a roommate to split expenses with so it's not too bad."

"A roommate?"

"Yes, a friend from college who is like a sister to me. Her name is Kate." This could pose a problem for the arrangement he wanted.

"Does she know about your proclivities?"

At that Anastasia nodded. "Yes. She's not part of the lifestyle but she doesn't care that I am. She…gets me in a way nobody else does. To her, it's just a different way to have sex."

"So weekends away would be explained how?" She blinked, misunderstanding what it was he was asking. "My submissives, I want them here from six on Friday to two on Sunday's." At that she blinked again.

"That seems rather intimate." He almost laughed. Him being intimate was not a problem. _Never going to happen_.

"You would have your own room and access to the main living area here. I work a lot from home on the weekends so there is downtime. Outside of the playroom and meals we'd hardly see each other." At that her face fell a bit, he was sure of it but there was no way he was going to analyze it. Not when they were finally talking about taking the next step.

"And if that's not possible?" The question hung in the air between them, the struggle to find middle ground that would work for both of them.

"We'd come to another agreement. I'm a sexual man, Ms. Steele. I want it often, I want it a specific way and I want it available to me on my schedule." He reached over to the chair and pulled out a list of his requirements, handing it to her to read over. "Take a few moments and read this over." Deliberately he brushed his fingers against hers but his planned seduction failed when it was he who was affected by the touch.

Her shoulders relaxed as she read over the contract he'd provided. There was nothing too crazy or out of the ordinary. She'd refuse the clothes and gifts, the food and exercise were of no concern, she was already a health nut but the whole no eye contact thing threw her. It was all pretty standard really and she didn't have an issue with the rest but not looking at him? Or touching him? How could she not touch him? He was fucking gorgeous!

Her eyes met his, the gray saturated with intensity so much so that she quickly looked down. It pleased him, her automatic submission. He waited for her to speak, transfixed by the way her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders and the way she nibbled on that bottom lip. She was just so..._pretty_. Demure. Perfect.

Once finished she placed the contract between them and sat up straight, shoulders back as if she were gearing up for a negotiation. "I would prefer to not accept clothing and gifts and I'm fine with following these rules while I'm here and under your authority but outside of this apartment, my life is my own. I will drink what I want to drink and sleep when I want to sleep."

Flabbergasted. He was absolutely floored by her assertiveness and if he was honest, a bit turned on by it as well.

"Those are my rules, Ms. Steele. I expect them to be followed." She took a deep breath and readied herself for an argument.

"What you're asking for is a total power exchange even when we're not in scene or in each other's company. I'm not willing to do that." _Damn, she was smart. _But rules are rules and his were not there to be negotiated no matter how much he wanted to fuck the woman reading them.

"The rules are there to keep you safe, to ensure your optimal health and to fortify the boundaries of the contract. I am an extremely wealthy man, Ms. Steele and need to take serious precautions as to whom I allow in my life, in my home, and in my bed." He was becoming agitated. Nobody, not one woman had bucked up against him like this. They saw clothing, allowance, gifts, cars, homes and whatever else they thought they could get out of him and they signed on the dotted line, no questions asked.

But not her. Not Ms. Anastasia Steele with her perfect alabaster skin and small upturned nose. She couldn't have been more than 5' 8" in her heels but that didn't stop her from standing her ground. He'd lose this battle, he knew it the minute she put that ivory paper on the table. So he'd regroup, go a different route, formulate a new strategy. That's what he did. She would eventually bend to his will, she just wouldn't know it was happening.

"The rules, Mr. Grey, are to give you total power even when you're not there. As a submissive, I'm fine with handing over those reins while here for the weekend but I will not live my life outside of these walls as anything but my own. I take pleasure in serving my Dom and in submitting sexually. I also find pleasure in running my own life. They are mutually exclusive and therefore, are not to be unilaterally decided for me." Her jaw set firmly, her hands remained perfectly still. There was no doubt in his mind she was a force to be reckoned with. Oh how he relished the prospect of bringing her to heel.

Did he want her enough to alter the contract he'd used for years now? One finger ran over his bottom lip as he contemplated. _Yes_, yes he did want her enough to find middle ground. When she was under his control, when he'd gained her trust, well, then he'd push back so that everything was on his terms. But until then he'd negotiate because that mouth and those eyes coupled with that body, well, he'd do pretty much anything to fuck her.

"Fine, the rules will apply while you are here but the one about you marking or altering your body in anyway stands. And since you find _pleasure_ in sexually submitting, you will not masturbate unless instructed by me to do so." She blushed but didn't look away.

"That's acceptable. Moving on if I may, I'm curious as to why I can't touch you. How am I supposed to fill my role if it's so limited?" At this he laughed and covered one of her hands. He couldn't help it, he had to touch her.

"Trust me, there is plenty we can do that doesn't involve you touching me. My arms, my legs, my neck, my cock, all fine." Her stomach jumped at the mention of his dick. "You underlined eye contact as well?"

"I did. I understand it in the context of the scene but if I'm to stay here on the weekends, that's a lot of avoidance. It seems, I don't know, an impossible feat." She looked at him then, his stomach flipping at the heat between them. "You have such beautiful eyes, Mr. Grey. I'd hate to not be able to look at them."

_Fuck_, he thought, she was going to get her way on nearly everything it seemed. But really, her eyes were so hypnotic he'd miss not having them look at him anyway.

"I use blindfolds in almost every scenario so when we're fucking, it won't really be an issue anyway." Both of their stomachs flipped at the mention of being sexual with each other. "In scene I will dictate when you can and can't look at me but during the off hours, that rule is abdicated." She smiled, her white teeth in sharp contrast to her dark lips. Right now, he'd give her the entire apartment if she'd just wrap those lips around him.

"My hard limits, Mr. Grey." Shyly she pushed a piece of paper towards him. Her limits were listed as bullet points and true to her word, there were quite a few more than his own.

**Hard Limits:**  
No play involving animals or children  
No play involving medical instruments  
No play involving blood, urination, defecation, electrical, breath or fire  
No Anal play  
No ejaculations on the face  
No hitting to the face or head by hands, instruments or any other object  
No gags

"That's quite a list," he said, dropping the paper back to the table slightly pissed off. "No anal?" _What the fuck was that about?_ That was standard practice in BDSM, even in a lot of regular sexual relationships really. So he'd heard at least. He asked again, her face flashing with something akin to fear so that it stopped him immediately.

_Something had happened to her._ He knew it, felt the horror of whatever memory was assaulting her in that moment and smelled the fear that accompanied it. With restraint he didn't know he had he refused the instinct to pull her into his arms and promise her safety and sanctuary. His shift in demeanor was uncharacteristic but he couldn't help it. His voice softened, his face relaxed, his eyes lost a bit of the pinpoint intensity.

"Would you be willing to revisit this list after a three month trial period? The first three limits we agree on completely and I would never hit a woman's face but the other three, I'd like to at least have a conversation once we've established trust."

She hesitated but nodded yes. "Though I feel it's only fair to make sure you know that in the four years I've been doing this, none of that has changed." His resolve thickened.

"I have to say, I'm not keen on being told where I can't cum. As a dominant I feel it's my right." At this she sat up straight.

"It's still my body. I have my reasons, that's all you need to know. Those are my hard limits and also the reason I haven't been able to find a suitable Dom in almost a year. I know they're not your normal limits but they're mine and I'm not apologizing for them." Her audacity stunned him.

"So you've interviewed other Doms with this list?" The thought did not sit well with him.

"Yes."

"And they've refused?" _Fools._

"Yes," she said, a bit quieter, her eyes dropping back to the table top again. He was going to ask her to leave now, she could feel it. Anal had always been the deal breaker before and it seemed like it would be even now.

"Interesting. I can't imagine letting you walk away from me." He sat back and crossed one ankle over his knee casually. "I can live with these limits so long as you are willing to be open to changes in the future. I'm not saying you're expected to change but I at least want to know that our experiences together will push your limits and mine."

At that she agreed. "Do you have your medical papers?" He pulled his out as he asked, placing it on top of the contract. "I get tested one month after each termination so that any possible infections would be present in my tests. As you can see I'm clean. My test is dated a little over two months ago and I've not been with anyone in over three."

How a man that looked like him didn't have sex in over three months was beyond her. But damn did that hold some appeal to her.

"Here is mine. I haven't been tested in over four months but my last partner was over five months ago. It was a short term contract with a visiting business man…" She didn't know why she was telling him that and if his hard glare was any indication he didn't want to hear about it anyway. His eyes narrowed as he studied her.

"How many partners have you had, Ms. Steele?" She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the line of questioning that was really, in all truth, none of his business.

Her silence had him sweating. Why he cared he had no idea, he'd never cared before. Had never even asked the question. And really, how dare he. He knew it was wrong but he had to know._ Had to. _How many other men had been witness to her submission? How many others had been gifted the vision of her nakedness? How many others knew the feel of her body against theirs?

"Seven." If he had been drinking then, he'd have choked on his wine.

"_Seven_? In total? Or seven long term Doms?" She blushed again making him regret his outburst.

"Seven in total. I've had two long term Doms and two short term Doms along with two private club scenes and a high school boyfriend." She looked at him, eyes on fire as if she'd finally realized how inappropriate his question was and shot back, "And you?"

If she had slapped his face he'd have been less surprised but he answered her anyway if for no other reason than to shut that pretty little mouth up. "Fifteen submissives on contract, countless others at countless clubs around the world."

"Countless?" she spit out, his cavalier attitude turning her off. He knew it too, tried to back track by losing the arrogant bravado he was tossing at her.

He shrugged, "Less than 100, more than 75 give or take." She picked up his medical transcript again and looked it over carefully much to his amusement. "You're funny you know that, Ms. Steele?"

"_I'm_ funny?" She didn't look up, just kept reading that report line by line. "That's a lot of room for error. _Countless_ room for error to be exact." At that he laughed and plucked the paper from her hand.

"I've always been careful. Condoms on anyone not under contract and even then I used protection when they were in their fertile window and I have always been monogamous in my arrangements. I don't make mistakes, Ms. Steele. Ever. So no, not a lot of room for error. Though we should talk about birth control, I don't see it listed here on your medical transcript."

The second it left his mouth she shut down. Went cold right in front of him. Mechanically she reached for the empty bottle of wine, uttering a tiny 'shit' when it came up empty. He pushed his glass to her, the color draining from her face scaring the shit out of him.

His blood ran cold, his fingers and toes tingled with _what_ he didn't know but it was new to him. Gone was the light behind her smile. Just like that, in an instant she had shut him out. With trembling hands she took the glass he offered and downed the rest in two large sips, demurely dabbing the corners of her mouth with one of the silk napkins Mrs. Taylor had chosen.

"I don't need birth control," was all she said. Her words were as flat as her gaze but she met his eyes anyway. _Someone had definitely hurt her._ It ripped at him inside, this unraveling of a woman he barely knew. He'd find out what happened and he'd make it right. If it took him ten years he'd wipe that sadness from her eyes.

"OK," he whispered, again fighting the urge he had to pull her to him and hold her close. This was already the most intimate he'd been with a sub, already the most out of control he'd allowed himself to be as far as personal information went but he didn't care. He'd do whatever it took to have her. Whatever it took to make her smile at him again. "I'm not on birth control either."

She looked at him then and laughed, the light returning to her powder blue eyes at his little joke. His heart split again, this time he could almost hear the tear._ She is going to change everything._

He would put up a good fight but it would be pointless because at that moment, he cared more about her happiness than her sex.

And that, for Christian Trevelyan Gray, _that _was terrifying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note: I am sincerely blown away by the quick and awesome response this new story got. You are, hands down, the best readers on FF. Such an encouragement! Thank you. This time around I won't be able to answer each review but if you are _signed in_ and ask a question, I will answer it so long as it doesn't give too much away. Promise. I did start a pinterest page for F&F as well, link in my profile, but this is the first chapter that there's anything to post up. To answer a few broad questions, this will not be nearly as long as S&S, there will be no cheating (as if!), yes we'll find out what happened to Ana, no there will be no pregnancy, and yes, this will have more angst but it won't emotionally scar anyone!**

* * *

Christian Grey had done it. He'd gotten her to say the words without her breaking down. _I'm not on birth control because I don't need it. _It was such a simple sentence but she'd never been able to face it so head on before. Until now.

The loss was agonizing, one that crashed over her at the oddest moments but she'd told him. He'd known there was more there, she could tell by the way his eyes softened and then he'd done something impossible. He'd rescued her. Thrown her a joke and though she barely knew him, she was pretty damn sure joking wasn't something he did regularly.

With a sigh she leaned back and watched him get up and open the freezer. In front of each setting he placed a bowl of perfect summer berries even though it was late in the fall. From the microwave he pulled out a small bowl of white chocolate and with a flourish, drowned their frozen berries in it.

"You're going to make me gain ten pounds if this is how we would eat all weekend." She laughed and lifted a ripe blueberry to her lips, the chocolate just starting to harden around the plump fruit. He wouldn't care if she gained a hundred so long as she didn't get sad like that again. Empathy wasn't exactly his strong suit but when she'd hurt just now, it was like a sucker punch to his chest.

_Keep her talking_, he thought. With the conversational dexterity afforded to him through years of private school and countless business meetings he did just that. She blossomed in front of him when she spoke of her students, mostly kids from the area who were just learning to play an instrument or who thought they could sing when most of them, in fact, couldn't.

"Let me hear you sing something," he asked but she shook her head and studied her dessert.

"It has to be organic or it feels funny. I feel stupid just singing something out of the blue." Her head moved to the left, "I see you have a piano over there. Do you play?"

"I do. 22 years now though I ceased taking lessons when I was 18."

"What kind of music are you drawn to?" _What an odd way to ask,_ he thought. Drawn to. Not what kind of music do you _like_ but what are you _drawn_ to.

"Is there a difference between being drawn to something and liking it?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. For me, I like everything except death metal and hard core rap. And most techno, it just gives me a headache. So I can enjoy a lot of music but I'm drawn to the same thing when I play or when I'm preforming. Singer songwriter type stuff. Carol King, Indigo Girls, Barry Manilow,"

"Barry Manilow?" He huffed it out before he choked on his raspberry. "You like Barry Manilow? How old are you?"

"22 and yes, I love Barry!" she laughed at herself, petite hands covering her mouth to hide her smile.

There it was again, that light that he was so drawn to. He stood, reached for her hand and pulled her towards the piano. When he sat down she stood to the side and watched him lift the top with care. His fingers splayed over the keys, moving but not making any sound yet. She was transfixed. In awe of his physical presence as he tried to remember whatever it was he wanted to play for her.

"It's been awhile but I played this for my grandmothers birthday party when I was 15. Give me a minute," he said, his eyes closed as he tried to visualize the notes.

When he finally began she sucked in her breath, her throat automatically humming along to 'I Write The Songs'. He played effortlessly, flawlessly, gracefully. And he was playing for her. When he stopped she clapped, the joy in her face so amazingly beautiful that it caught him off guard. He couldn't help it, he smiled so big it hurt his cheeks.

He stood in front of her, towering and broad but not the least bit frightening. She felt safe here, with him, in this place where he'd so obviously hidden himself away from the rest of the world. _What is his story? Why does he feel the need to dominate in all things?_

She studied him for the briefest of moments, appreciating his perfect teeth and the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled until he reached out with one finger and traced the slope of her shoulder. The jovial mood from a just a moment ago was replaced with heat when he lifted his knuckles to her chin and traced the tender skin there. _Damn,_ he was a pro at seduction and hell if she wasn't nearly experienced enough to stop him.

"Are you ready to see the rest of the apartment?" His voice was lower, just this side of husky. She didn't trust herself to speak so she nodded instead but he didn't move. "I'm glad you're here, Anastasia," he said seductively. It was the truth. With her here, he felt somehow like he belonged. It was a crazy notion, the idea that he finally fit into his own home but that's exactly how it felt.

"We should finish our conversation…about our agreement." Her lip disappeared between her teeth, her body swaying slightly from side to side. "If you're still interested I mean. I know my limits are less than appealing..."

"_You_, are appealing, Ms. Steele," he interrupted. She blushed at his compliment, the pink hue spreading like wildfire over her skin. _Fucking hell she's beautiful._

"Then are we in agreement on the other points?" He paused, fingertips burning against her collar bone as he studied her. _Other points?_ Sure, whatever she wanted. A million dollars, a home in Paris, whatever she wanted he'd give her so long as she'd give her body to him.

His hand fanned out to rest over the exposed skin of her décolletage. "Your heart is racing, Anastasia."

"My friends call me Ana," she breathed, her body immediately primed and ready for him.

"I don't want to be your friend," he smirked. "I want to be your Dominant." _Lover._ That's what he'd wanted to say but he'd caught himself at the last minute. "Do you want that, Anastasia?" He drew closer, his body a mere inch from hers, the tips of her breasts grazing the flat front of his shirt. She felt dizzy, light headed, other worldly.

"Do you want me to dominate you, Ms. Steele?" She should have answered him but she couldn't. He chuckled at her helplessness, a slightly sinister sound that hinted at the man she was about to unleash.

His palm glided up to her neck and wrapped around it gently, the size of his hand a sharp contrast to the tiny bit of flesh beneath it. For a moment he marveled at the delicacy of her skin, the smooth eroticism of it as it slid against his. She was exquisite. Unaware of how sexy she was, unaware of the effect she was having on the usually stoic man in front of her. Her eyes lifted to his then, desire in them shredding the last vestige of restraint he'd struggled to hold on to.

She was the hottest woman he'd ever had to pleasure to touch, her gift of submission setting him on fire.

Never, in his entire existence had he felt so out of control for another human being. Not even the first time he'd fucked a woman, when he had known nothing. Not even the last time when he knew everything there was to know about sex and used that knowledge to his full advantage. This was something different altogether. Before he'd wanted sex but now...now he wanted sex _with her_. He wanted _her_. With a painful thud his heart slammed against his chest at the subconscious revelation he'd come to.

He should have walked away then. Should have dropped his arms to his side instead of wrapping one around her tiny waist. He should have told her to go, thanked her for the bit of sunlight she'd brought with her instead of moving that hand to the back of her neck. He should have looked away instead of into those baby blues.

With a purposeful step he moved forward, she moved back. Another try and she did it again, his grip on her waist and neck tightening. They were slowly making their way to the table, back to the table where the security of that paperwork waited for them.

She had to set her outline clear from the beginning because he was eating her alive just by touching her. Protection had to be put in place before she crossed the threshold with him because inexperienced or not, Anastasia knew there was more at play here than her body. He was far too powerful, far too alluring, far to intense to take on and if life had taught her one thing well, it was to keep her emotions out of the equation.

With a whirl she turned and strode back to the table, looking for the pen that had been there but was now nowhere to be found. She couldn't focus on finding it anyway because behind her he stood, his frame blocking out any escape from the room. She could feel the heat of his body, the brute strength he held in check under expensive clothes and designer watches.

_Where the fuck is the pen?_ Her frustration mounted, she _needed_ the protection of that contract, especially the part where it stated that any declaration of affection would be met with immediate termination. Something in the way her heart squeezed and her stomach flipped told her that she'd need that stark reminder on a daily basis with Christian Grey.

She huffed out in frustration and felt his breath on her neck. _God he's so close._ "I can't find the pen," she explained, her back still to him.

"Forget about the damn pen, Anastasia and turn around."

She turned, her nose at his collarbone. And damn it if she didn't inhale, her eyes closing at the spicy masculine scent that had her insides twisting with lust. _Get a grip, Ana! He's just a man._ Was that his heart pounding or hers? She couldn't tell, didn't care.

She was drowning with desire.

"Mr. Grey, we need to finish this."

"Sir," he corrected. She blinked. Sir? She hadn't signed anything, hadn't agreed to anything yet.

"But…the paperwork,"

"Fuck the paperwork," he growled and then closed the distance between them with a kiss that ignited the flame in him and pushed her further under the sea of lust that was making it hard to breath. He was spinning, figuratively, not literally but he didn't really care about the semantics. All he knew was that the feel of her lips against his was somehow more than he'd bargained for because that flame? It blew the fuck up.

His tongue slid against hers, the lingering taste of wine and raspberries like an aphrodisiac. She bent to him, gave him access to her mouth with a soft groan that raced through him like a drug. It had to be now, he had to have her now. This was too good to be true, too intense to last. Whatever the cost, he'd pay it.

She pressed those soft, lush curves against the hard planes of his body and tasted him. The man could kiss, there was no doubt about that and if this kiss was any indication of the abilities he possessed as a Dom, well she was in for the ride of her life. His hand gripped the flesh of her ass and ground her to him in an effort to find some relief from the demands his cock was making.

Sex had always been mapped out in his world. It came with parameters, plans, preparation and protection. The rule of P as he referred to it. He'd envisioned the first time he took her of course but it wasn't like a teenage boy on a feeding frenzy so with ease he lifted her by the waist and carried her to the stairs that led to the playroom. If he could get her in there, he'd find solid footing again and this crazy out of control passion that was currently running the show would stop.

But even the dozen or so steps was too far. He blamed the damp heat between her legs that was grinding up against his hard on for stopping halfway up. His body lay on hers, his hands roaming over her with the desperation of a first time lover. _Just a few more steps,_ he chided himself. He could almost see the door to the red room but it may as well have been on Jupiter. _Too far, too far._

Her hands gripped his biceps, the tips of her nails digging in to hold onto what he was sure appeared to her a man out of control but he literally couldn't stop. Without thinking she dragged them up towards that copper hair of his but he stopped her, grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them above her head while her body bowed to his, the press of her breasts against his chest cutting off any ties to sanity she'd been grasping.

_Holy fuck_ he was losing his mind right here in the stairwell. His subconscious registered the hard wood beneath his knees, the way her hair was tangled in his hand, the sound of one of her shoes falling to the bottom of the stair. He heard her harsh breathing, felt her breath against his face, registered the way her fingers wound around his to match his desperation. But this _kiss_...the feel of her alive underneath him...this was...unstoppable.

Frenzied was the only word that came to mind but that was gone as fast as it was thought. They _needed_. This was more than desire, more than lust, more than months of celibacy. He felt the bare skin of her thighs where her skirt had ridden up, pressed himself against the wetness between her legs until she gasped and bucked her hips. His large hand gripped the lace he found lying over her sex and tugged roughly, annoyed that there was anything between them.

"Do you want me?" He hadn't meant for it to come out as a snarl but it did. He'd make her forget it when he fucked her.

She whimpered and raised her hips again, seeking out the hard ridge that was driving her crazy. She needed a pause button, just a few seconds of reprieve to get her mind back in working order but every time he pulled back a bit, she sought his body again. He rolled his hips, the sharp bite of his zipper gone. Somehow he'd pushed his pants down to his knees.

"Do you want me, Anastasia?" Still harsh but not nearly as razor sharp as he'd just been.

"Yes," she moaned, the _s_ drawn out as she got lost in the sensations he was eliciting. God she was going to regret this in about ten minutes but for now, she just didn't give a damn. Before she'd finished answering him her panties, a pretty pale pink lace she'd worn especially for him were ripped from her body, the rush of cool air on the wet, aching flesh between her legs quickly replaced by the pulsing heat only a man possessed.

"No condom," he gritted out, the unspoken question almost a plea. If he had to stop now, his balls would never forgive him.

"It's fine," she breathed, the tightening in her belly reaching a fever pitch when his fingers slid from the opening of her sex to the top, a small smile tugging at his lips.

She was soaking wet and it was because of him. Because she wanted him. In the back of his mind he thought to flip her to her belly, his rule about face to face fucking without a blindfold rushing to the forefront of his thoughts. But then she bit that lip and her eyes glazed over and well, hell, he wanted to watch her.

"I'm going to fuck you know, Ms. Steele." And he did, the slippery wetness of her tight sex so overwhelmingly perfect that he groaned, something he rarely did with his subs. But holy shit she was perfect. He had to work his dick into her depths, as wet as she was she was still unbearably tight but he wanted to own her, feel her where no one else had, go deeper than she'd thought possible. Her thighs spread wider to accommodate him until he was fully sheathed inside of her, the coarse hairs around the base of his cock stimulating her clit.

He was big and thick, the head of his penis wider than the shaft so that she could feel every millimeter as he took her. When she opened her eyes, absorbing the pleasure of being so full she almost looked away but he held her there, gray eyes to blue, intensity to acceptance, Dom to sub, lover to lover.

"You are mine," he grunted on a thrust that made her cry out. "Fuck the contract, fuck the limits, fuck the NDA, you," a bit faster, "are," he raised his body so that the only point of contact was their sex and their hands, "mine."

She fell apart then, her legs finally getting some leverage to wrap around his hips as he battered into her, faster, harsher, more desperate than he'd been even a minute before. Her eyes closed, white hot sparks of pleasure radiating from where he filled her.

"Look at me!" he commanded and she tried, really she did but he was so intense, so focused, so all consuming that her lids closed again. "Look at me, Anastasia!" He was so beautiful...so..._oh God_ she was going to cum if he kept looking at her like that.

"I…want to…please...I need to..." His face blazed with triumph at her pleading.

"Cum, Anastasia, let me hear you." She whined then, the back of her throat thick as she held back her scream but it was her body that betrayed her. She wasn't going to survive this, her body would break before she'd gotten her fill of him. When his face, so beautiful above her went fuzzy she fell into waiting bliss, the fall sure to kill her. He stilled inside of her and held himself tight above her body to watch and feel the convulsions that raced through her.

"Fuck!" he roared when she gripped him impossibly tighter, wet heat flooding his cock so that he couldn't hold back no matter how hard he tried. His fingers gripped hers harder as his body coiled, the wash of bliss making him roar out again but his control was gone. With one last vicious thrust he emptied into her, his mouth seeking hers in a moment of absolute vulnerability. When his body stopped shivering, when he could finally lift his face from hers he had a brief moment of panic until she smiled at him, the truth of how he'd taken her staring right back at him.

Face to face. Chest to chest. Eye to eye.

Burning desire to drowning emotions. Quenched.

Without the protection of a condom, without the coverage of a stack of legal documents, without a background check. And he didn't give a fuck because that was, without question, the most _necessary_ sex of his life. Air filled his lungs at an alarming rate as he attempted to restore his authority.

Beneath him Ana squirmed, reminding him that they were on the stairs like a bunch of teenagers._ Shit!_ How could he sell himself as a Dom, capable of extraordinary self-control when he'd just taken her on the stairs like a love sick fool? _Damn it!_

"I'm sorry," he whispered, lifting himself so that he slipped out of her body, the loss of contact immediate and dramatic. Her face was flush, her hair a tangled mess, her lips swollen a bit where he'd kissed her frantically but it was her wrists that concerned him. He'd lost total awareness of what he was doing so much so that he didn't notice that he'd hurt her.

The indentation of his fingers was clear as day around her slender wrists, the promise of a bruise where his watch had dug into her. "I hurt you." He said it so softly she had to strain to hear him.

"I didn't feel it, it's fine," was her breathless response.

"It was careless of me." He was on the cusp of freaking out, sure that he'd blown the opportunity to be with her long term but she shocked the hell out of him and giggled, reaching past him to grab her panties so that she could clean herself up a bit. "I'll do that," he rushed out, jumping up and grabbing a clean warm rag from the kitchen. When he got back she was standing, nervously trying to pull out the tangles he'd created.

Her shoes were back on, her dress fixed to hide her body. She was nervous, her teeth sinking into that lip he hadn't nearly explored enough.

_Breathtaking_. That word again. He sucked in a lungful and let the mask slide back into place. He had to salvage this, had to make her want to stay, had to convince her that he could be the Dom she needed.

But she didn't need convincing. He'd done that last night. What she needed convincing of was that she could handle a force like him because if _that_ was any indication of what he could make her feel, she was in deep trouble.

They stood there until he grimaced and grabbed the back of his neck with something that looked a bit like regret. Her stomach dropped until he grinned up at her, his mouth open as if to speak.

"Should I go?" she'd finally asked when the seconds ticked by. He gaped at her, eyes widening as he realized she was misunderstanding his silence.

"Go? No!" He took a deep breath, willing the alarm in his voice to go away. "Do you want to leave?" If she said yes, he'd have to figure something out to make her stay because whatever that was, whatever just happened between them was too good to not do again.

"I don't but you seem upset or…something." He smiled.

"I'm a bit thrown off my game if you want me to be honest." Again he tugged at his hair. "It's not like me to lose control like that. I can say with certainty that in the thirteen years I've been having sex I've not once engaged in something as…crazed as that." She laughed, the soothing sound hitting him right in his gut.

"Crazed?" The word rolled around in her head. "Yes, that's a good word for it."

Without a word he handed her a glass of water and the warm rag, now cold. With a glance at the papers on the table he spoke, "I'll draw up new documents to reflect the changes we've made and messenger them over to you at your building tomorrow. What are your hours? Obviously you'll need to sign for these and I'll want my guy to collect them from you after you've done so." He hesitated, still trying to get his bearings but failing miserably as he watched her clean his semen from her legs. Fuck did that please the shit out of him.

"On Monday's I start giving lessons at eleven and I'm usually finished by six thirty."

"And you're alone during this time? Or do you have a partner?"

"Alone. My friend Rebecca uses the studio as well but she's in a separate room. Sometimes my friend Adam sublets from us but other than that, I'm pretty much on my own." He didn't like the sound of that at all. Alone? That couldn't be safe.

"Do you give lessons to men?" A minute too late she figured out where he had been heading with that line of questioning but this would fall under the 'when I'm not in scene you're not in charge clause'.

"Yes, there are quite a few men who take guitar lessons from me and two that take vocal coaching. I assure you they are harmless and they have been for months now."

_Harmless. Right._ There was no way a man could be in her presence and remain harmless. He'd figure out a way to fix that little glitch in the contract, it would just take a bit of finesse.

"I'd like to continue with the tour if you've decided to stay, Anastasia." Her mind switched gears to keep up with him. A few seconds ago he was concerned about her welfare and now he wanted to resume things as normal.

"I'd like that, Sir." _Fuck yes!_ She'd said it and she'd meant it. The tingle in his dick spread, the sight of her ass as she climbed the stairs enough to pump the blood in his veins southward. Yeah, he was nowhere near finished with her.

"This will be your room. You may decorate it however you wish. If you hate the furniture, I will have it switched out. The mattress and all of the linens are new but we can purchase new ones if it makes you more comfortable."

"This is fine, thank you." She seemed pleased as she made her way to the wall of glass overlooking the street below. "God the view here is just spectacular even at night." He stood back and took her in, the way she bent forward so slightly to see it all, the way her left foot lifted to her tippy toe while she stood still. "This is great."

So she wouldn't sleep with him. Not unusual in her limited experience but not unheard of either. Her first Dom had required that they share a bed as had her last but she'd rarely spent the night at either of their homes, opting to go back to her apartment when they were finished.

"Where is your room?"

"Lower level, end of the hallway. My room is private." Point taken. He walked out of the room, the matter of fact coldness in his tone dampening her libido. _Careful, Ana. Fortify those walls before he destroys you._

At the last door in the hall he paused and typed in a number on a keypad, a tiny beep indicating that he'd used the right code. With a click the door opened to the scent of leather and citrus, a combination that he loved and that she recognized.

With a grand sweep of his hand he opened the door to grant her admittance.

"The playroom, Ms. Steele."

He could tell she was impressed by the way she walked slowly from piece to piece mindful to touch nothing. This was Christian's space and it demanded respect as much as it demanded submission.

She took it all in. The blood red walls, the dark wood furnishings, the king sized bed covered in what she could see were crimson satin sheets specifically made for the activities they'd partake in. On the ceiling was a network of thick cables that created a grid that covered almost the entire room. Carabiners hung in groups, cuffs attached to them in various fabrics. Leather, silk, chains.

At the dresser he waited while she soaked it all up and then showed her, drawer by drawer, what toys he had purchased for her. Well, for his new sub but that, for all intents and purposes, was going to be her.

"No," she said daintily but demonstratively. "The genital clamps can go." He had to chuckle at her poise. For 22, she was remarkably confident. "I don't recall reading about fisting on your limits. Do you partake in that?"

Partake? Now he was laughing. "No, I don't _partake_ in fisting. It seems counterproductive. Besides," he added with a shrug and a wink, "I could barely fit my cock inside you, there is no way I'd get my fist up there."

Her jaw dropped at his boldness but it gave her a thrill too, this acknowledgement of what they had just done.

"Now," he continued, diming the lights and shutting the door. "When we are in this room you will have your hair braided and you will be in position right there by the dresser in nothing other than your panties." Walking behind her he gathered her thick tresses and sectioned them off, stealing a sniff between plaits of her shampoo. When he finished he stood behind her and cupped her ass over the dress. "Let's start now, shall we?"

"Sir?" He raised his brows, this wasn't exactly the way he'd wanted to start off. "May I please use the restroom?" She squirmed. "I'd like to be cleaned up for you."

"Are the remnants of my orgasm still running down your leg, Ms. Steele?" That blush again. _Damn._ The things he'd do to her, had done to her and she was still blushing.

"Yes, Sir." Elation filled his chest.

His. Marked. Claimed.

When she came back he was gone but the low sound of classical music floated through the air, a quick peek at his iPod told her it was Brahms Violin Concerto in D. She kicked off her heels, placing them carefully under the single chair pushed up against the wall near where he wanted her to wait for him. With a quick pep talk she took off the dress and her bra, placing each on the chair before she went to her knees.

She was naked, her panties discarded in the wastebasket downstairs. This was the most amazing and the most terrifying of times. The anticipation of what's to come coupled with the unknown brought her right to the place she felt safest. In the care of her Dom.

When he came back in, properly rinsed off and changed into nothing other than the faded soft denim he wore in this room at all times his gaze immediately went to the woman at his feet. Normally he'd make her wait, let the suspense grow until she was near desperate but he couldn't. Again, his urges overrode his control.

"Stand." She did and it happened again. _Breathtaking_. Absolutely stunning. "To the center of the room, face the mirror, hands behind your back."

Her breasts swayed in the most seductive way imaginable while the muscles in her legs shifted with each step. He waited, held himself back until he regained some of the mental discipline he'd worked for over the years and then stepped to her, his bare chest barely touching her naked back.

"Your safe words, Ms. Steele?" She swallowed, the desire for him to touch her all but strangling her. This was the moment where the power shifted, when the carefully constructed boundaries of her life were momentarily forgotten. It was in this moment that she relinquished her own desires and needs so that she could tend to his.

"Red and yellow, Sir." He nodded, repeated the words and then stepped forward so that he was flush against her.

"You are devastatingly beautiful, Anastasia." And she was. Every inch of her was smooth and soft, her skin so perfect it had an almost translucent quality to it. Perky breasts tipped in the most erotic pink he'd ever seen waited for his attention, the nipples pebbling when he ran his thumbs over them much to his delight. "Your breasts are what men dream about." He nipped her ear, "I can't wait to fuck them."

_Oh god_ she was so wet already. How could he elicit such a response simply with words? She didn't know and so long as he kept pinching her like that, she didn't care. He watched her in the mirror, the look in his eyes enough to speed up her pulse.

"And this," he said huskily as he cupped her sex, covering her nakedness, "is perfection. No other word for it, Ms. Steele except to say that you have a perfect pussy." At this she groaned ever so quietly, maintaining the silence he demanded on the contract even when he rubbed her clit until she was panting.

"God damn you're gorgeous." He turned her then, her face inches away from his bare chest. "No touching." She remembered, her quick nod signaling that she understood. She had just enough time to make out two dimpled scars before he raised his hand, two fingers slick with her juices. One he pushed into her mouth, the jump in his dick immediate when she swirled her tongue over the wet digit. The other he sucked into his own mouth, her taste exploding on his tongue, her scent making him desire her somehow even more.

"That's good, Ms. Steele," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Now you will taste me."

She followed him to the couch where he grabbed a black ribbon which he tied around her wrists loosely, mindful of the indentations he'd put there before. He sat then, allowing her to see his torso for the first time. And what a torso it was. Perhaps if she hadn't been so overwhelmed she would have seen the other scars he bore but she saw only his beauty.

He was lean but cut. As cut as any man she'd ever seen before, each muscle fighting for prominence under lightly tanned skin. His shoulders broad and hard with a smattering of freckles on the top of each, no doubt from the time he spent outside doing god knows what to get a body like that. Abs that looked more like a checkerboard and that delicious V she always went stupid for along with defined striations that held it all together over his ribs and his sides.

But it was his chest she wanted to touch the most, perhaps because she knew she wasn't allowed to. Perfect pecs, dark brown disks on each that were begging to be sucked and between them, a patch of hair that made him so masculine, so desirable that her mouth went dry. She would never touch it, the pang of sadness surprising her at the loss.

She knew what he wanted but she also knew to wait for his instruction. Part of what turned her on were the demands made by her Dom. The overtly sexual nature of the relationship, the unabashed commands that both made her blush and made her hot. Dirty talk made so matter of factly. There was something about a man saying what he wanted that drove her crazy. The upfront honesty? The crass desire for her? The way her body made men weak? She had never really thought about it.

"On your knees, Anastasia." He reached into his pants, the top button already undone and pulled himself out. _Holy god_ how had that fit inside of her? Now she knew why she'd felt so full, so complete when he'd pushed himself into her depths on the stairs. He was huge. And throbbing. And hard.

And she wanted.

Her mouth opened, her tongue came out, he groaned and lightly tapped himself on it. "I've wanted to see those lips of yours around my cock for too long." She almost laughed, catching herself at the last second.

"You only met me 24 hours ago, Sir." He looked a bit startled but then he smiled and continued to tap her tongue with the head of his dick.

"One, in here, you speak when I ask you to or if you need to safe word. Two, 24 hours to wait for you was far too long if you ask me. Now, no more talk. Suck. I want you to feel my cum slide down your throat."

She did just that, hands bound behind her back she used her lips and tongue, cheeks and teeth to bob up and down on a shaft that only grew in size as she sucked. Deep throating was never really her thing, she'd attempted it and gagged each time but reality dictated that she try it again because he was so huge she couldn't get more than the first three inches in anyway. But hell if she was going to try it with her hands behind her back so she focused on the rhythm he seemed to like the most.

Suck, swirl, slide. Suck, swirl, slide.

She was slowly killing him with those eyes, trained on his face while she brought him pleasure he'd never known before. Even a bad blow job is a good blow job but this was, just like the sex with her had been, different. Maybe it was because he hadn't blindfolded her like all of the others, maybe it was because they'd already fucked, maybe it was because she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. Whatever it was, it had him gripping her hair and struggling to keep silent.

He was too keyed up, too focused on what she was doing and the sensations she was creating. Her mouth came off with a pop much to his dismay but then she ran her tongue up the seam of his balls, the pleasure so unexpected that he gasped. When she began to suck on the tender skin, scraping her teeth lightly over his sac he gripped his dick and began to jack himself off, one hand on the back of her head.

So not his protocol, so not what he had envisioned but so much better. "Fuuuuck, yes, Anastasia. Shitttttt," he moaned, his head falling back onto the head rest when she lifted her mouth to give his shaft one wet lick so that his hand could move more easily. It was going to happen and soon. He was going to cum like a freight train but he didn't want to stop. He was conflicted. She was supposed to be sucking his dick, not his balls but god damn he didn't want her to stop.

When the pleasure shot down his spine to swirl around his cock he gripped her by her hair and shoved her mouth back on his dick, his legs trembling, her mouth working him over until his hips lifted off the couch and he emptied himself, his vision going from radiant blues and whites to reds and finally, black. He'd have to check to make sure his dick was still attached because…holy shit.

He kept her there until he grew soft and then sat her up, ignoring the smug look on her face. In an instant he had her on her feet, her hands retied in front of her, the black ribbon tied to the carabiner in the middle of the room.

"Was that fun for you, Ms. Steele? Doing your own thing like that? Trying to control my orgasm?" The hint of fear crossed her features but she pushed it away and looked down. He was mad? Amused? She had no idea. One finger ran down the length of her back before the hand it was attached to pulled back and landed on her ass with a crack. The shock of it had her panting. It was barely forceful, not enough to leave a mark but he'd gotten her attention.

"What are your safe words, Anastasia?" She had known that little trick would land her a punishment. _Thank God._ It wouldn't be a bad one, she knew that but she needed to see what he was like in this mode. If he lost control with her downstairs like that, how would he be when she was begging for it? When he had all the authority.

"Red and yellow, Sir." Another smack, this time to the other cheek.

_God I've missed this,_ was all she thought before he landed another, and another, and another.

He needed this, the sight of her skin pink by his hand. The sound of flesh against flesh, her uninterrupted tiny whimpers of pleasure, the way her ass moved when his hand landed. He watched each spank until his palms hurt and her cheeks were a dusty rose. He'd barely scratched the surface of what he was capable of but after the way he'd lost himself before and again just now on the couch, he wasn't about to let himself go again.

When he was finished he lifted her hips, drank in the sight of her bare, wet pussy open to him and slammed into her so hard her feet lifted off of the floor. She cried out in pain, the difference in her tone clear from that of her pleasure. _Shit_, he'd hurt her.

"Do you need to safeword, Ms. Steele?" he asked. He wanted to ask if she was alright, had he been too rough, too aggressive but that was what a lover would ask his woman, not a Dom to his sub.

"No, Sir," she bit out, her walls clenching around him as she tried to keep her balance and accommodate her tight sheath for him. He gave her a few more seconds and then withdrew to the tip, slamming back into her but mindful now of how far he went in. She cried out again, this time into her arm and he stopped entirely, his dick going semi-soft at her pain.

"I'm fine…Sir."

But she wasn't and he knew it, could tell by the way her shoulders were bunched as she held onto that black ribbon. On impulse he reached up and untied her, brought her hands to her side and kissed her neck while he wrapped both hands around her and swayed until she stopped trembling.

"Talk to me, Anastasia," he prodded.

"I have…scar tissue…on my cervix. Some positions, at certain times of the month are painful." His chest opened and filled with anguish for her just as rage poured out. He wouldn't ask, he knew better than to do that. _Certain times of the month?_ He'd have to research that later because he sure as shit wasn't asking her right now. "Please…don't stop." It was a plea that clawed at him.

"Ana," he started, using her nickname he'd refused just an hour before, "I won't hurt you." And he wouldn't, he couldn't. She whispered a response so softly he turned her face to his and kissed her. "I didn't hear you."

"I need to cum, please, Sir." His cock sprung back to life, swelling and seeking entrance into her body but then stilled at the fear of hurting her again.

"Ana, I don't want to cause you any kind of pain that doesn't bring pleasure on its heels." She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners where he studied her profile.

"You didn't hurt me on the stairs."

That made sense. From behind was much deeper. He lifted her, turned her at the edge of the bed and laid her down. And there it was, the vision he'd had since he first saw her. Chestnut hair, alabaster skin, crimson sheets. _Breathtaking_.

She opened her legs, he moved between them and carefully guided his cock inside her cleft, rubbing it's head over her clit peeking out at the top of her slit. Beautiful. _She wasn't necessarily topping from the bottom,_ he thought,_ I'm just being a good Dom, ensuring her comfort and peace of mind._

"You're certain you don't need to safe word?"

"Yes."

"Hands above your head then, Ms. Steele. This will be fast and hard but not deep."

He was true to his word, his movements short and quick shallow strokes that brought her quickly to an orgasm that had her gripping the sheets and thrashing her head. She closed her eyes and let the sensation take her. Blotted out all of the bull shit life had dumped on her doorstep, ignored the urgent knock of reality and savored this moment of pure pleasure.

The way her breasts bounced, the way her mouth made a perfect O, the way his fingers felt wrapped around her lush hips, the way she arched off of the bed when she came had him cumming as soon as she'd finished.

They stayed like that for a moment, he standing, her splayed out before him until she pushed up to her elbows, pushing him out of her body. With a satisfied smirk he watched himself leak out of her, the ridiculous urge to beat his chest surging through him like a tidal wave.

She glanced down and made to close her legs but he stopped her with his hands and a small shake of his head. "Don't," was all he said. "I will tell you when the scene is over." She stayed like that while he rolled the black ribbon and put it away, his gaze on the claim he'd made on her. "You may get up now, Ms. Steele."

When she stood he walked her to the bathroom, her hand in his, and quickly grabbed a wet washcloth so that she could clean up in private. She closed the door and leaned back on it, touched by his tenderness and embarrassed at her revelation. If he had denied her, if he had backed off or refused to have sex with her just now…it would have crushed her. She needed to be wanted like that, needed to be validated as a woman like that, needed to live in the control that her submission gave her.

Back downstairs he again offered her a drink which she politely refused. It was close to midnight and she was tired. By contrast he seemed energized, sprightly almost.

_God I must look like a disaster. _She'd let the braid out and had done her best to redress in the now wrinkled dress but anyone could see that she was far from composed. Her lips were swollen from kissing and the amorous head she'd given him and despite her attempt to calm the flush over her cheeks she knew it was still there.

He thought she looked hot. Good and well fucked. Again he wanted to pound his chest. Something about satisfying this woman felt so right. So...complete.

"Tomorrow at noon I'll have my messenger bring the revised copies to you along with an NDA. And just so we're clear, you will be here Friday night at six and will be staying until two on Sunday." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, we're clear." Elation filled him. She saw it, that brief unguarded moment where he was nothing more than a normal man getting what he wanted.

"Until Friday, Anastasia. Thank you for tonight." He kissed her cheek and then the back of her hand, assisting her into the elevator. Sad as he was to see her go, he was eager to get the contract completed and signed and he'd need a bit of time for the revisions. From the security room he watched her get into her car and then sauntered into his study, high from the last few hours.

Kate didn't ask anything when Ana walked in, just raised a brow and kept reading her magazine with a teasing smirk and the lick of a finger to turn the page.

"After midnight hmmm? Just remember to give me the address and phone number so I can get ahold of you and ensure you're safe."

"Tomorrow. I'm too beat to even pick up a pen right now." She was almost in her bedroom when Kate giggled.

"Beat. I see what you did there. I _bet_ you're too beat."

* * *

**For those of you wondering, the cervix drops during ovulation which can cause pain during intercourse. There's your science lesson for the day.**


	4. Chapter 4

When the contract came back to him on Monday at two he excused himself from the boring as fuck business meeting he'd been unfortunate enough to be a part of and shut the door to his office.

Along with the NDA she'd initialed their agreed upon limits along with the addition of her willingness to revisit them, without pressure, in three months time. When he saw her signature on the contract, the script feminine and so very Anastasia he smiled like an idiot catching himself only when he found himself tracing the blue ink with his finger.

"Welch, do you have the information I asked about yet?" he barked into the phone in his usual brisk way.

"I do, Sir, I'll be over in two minutes." Fuck it, the meeting could wait. He wanted to have that report in hand too much to care about the trade routes of leather goods between here and Tunisia.

Welch walked in without knocking, handing the one sheet background check to him. He already knew her birthday, where she lived, and where she worked. Her father had died the day after she had been born and she'd been adopted by Raymond Steele, her mothers second and...interestingly enough, fourth husband. Carla Adams-Steele seemed a bit bizarre on paper, divorcing Raymond to marry a man by the name of Stephen Morton only to divorce him to remarry Raymond Steele.

Her parents lived in Montesano in the house Anastasia had grown up in where Ray ran a construction company and Carla sold real estate. Ana's bank account was a bit impressive considering she lived on her own and had paid for college herself. It wasn't much but $14k in savings for a 22 year old wasn't something to sneeze at these days. Even he knew that.

But it was what _wasn't_ on this that he was most interested in. Who had hurt her? When? What had been done about it? Her name didn't appear as a plaintiff on any database Welch could access and as far as his security team could tell, there had been no news articles about her ever written. His attempts at gaining access to her medical records had met a stone cold dead end, the information before her 16th birthday completely wiped out.

"No prior relationships other than the one in high school?" he questioned, reading the words Paul Clayton, boyfriend for eleven months, over and over. That was the asshole that had taken her virginity and one of the men he knew had been pleasured by her body. He hated the man. Loathed him.

"Ms. Monroe was able to confirm that her first long term...arrangement had been with Marcus Jamieson but she was unwilling, or unable, to comment on Ms. Steele's other long term arrangement. Mr. Jamieson had procured Ms. Steele's membership at Imperium during their time together." _Whatever_. He'd thankfully never met the man, a small favor now that he was fucking his former submissive.

"And the two short term ones?" Welch flipped the screen on his tablet, finding the two names before speaking them aloud.

"Jason Kendrick and Shane Morgan."

Fuck them. Fuck all four of them. He knew Marcus Jamieson wasn't a threat since the man now lived in Atlanta and had no business on the West Coast anymore. Christian would make sure he never did again. But the other two were unknowns, obviously small time players in the lifestyle and in the business world.

"What information did you find on Kendrick and Morgan?" He reached for a mint, their names leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Mr. Kendrick resides in a small town in Maine and was married four months ago. His time with Ms. Steele was approximately three years ago and lasted for about five weeks while he was in Seattle to close on a contract with Boeing. Mr. Morgan lives in Raleigh and spent six weeks here about two years ago. From what we could gather neither has been in contact with Ms. Steele since they returned to the East Coast."

Christian tapped his pen on the edge of his desk. That left the two single scenes she had done and the long term Dom that she had been with last. It was he who bothered him the most though. The two morons who had let Anastasia go after one night were too stupid to care too much about. He'd still find out who they were and ensure that they were never near her again of course but it was the one who had her last who had become an obsession for him.

"No lead on her last relationship?" His head of security have him a curt shake of the head. "So this is it then?" With a disgusted toss he threw the paper on his desk, disappointed at the lack of information there.

"That's it, Sir." Without a word he dismissed the man thirty years his senior without so much as a thank you and sat back down to read over everything once again. He read the name of the man who had her first again and did a quick search only to find that he was part owner of a hardware store in the town Anastasia grew up in. There was only two pictures of Paul Clayton but they did nothing but serve to piss him off. The asshole was good looking, a fact that irritated him to no end.

He stared at those pictures, imagining her laughing up at the blond asshole, holding his hand, touching him the way he himself couldn't be touched. Clayton's Hardware. He scoffed. So she'd lost her virginity to a small town boy. _So what? I run the fucking world. _

But damn did it bother the shit out of him. This...this..._boy_ had had Anastasia first. Had been with her in a way Christian Grey could never allow. She'd liked this guy enough to stay with him for almost a year. She'd chosen to be in a relationship with him, not a formal arrangement like theirs was.

Dragging his hands over his face he sighed and leaned back with his eyes closed. She'd gotten under his skin, of that there was no doubt. The question was whether or not he wanted to keep her there because something told him that scratching at this itch over and over was only going to fuck up his perfectly balanced world.

* * *

She was grateful to not have told Kate anything once she read over the NDA he'd included in the package. It wasn't the first she'd signed, Dominick was wealthy and powerful as well and hadn't taken any chances when he'd signed her on and Marcus had been just as careful. He was the one who had taught her to channel her fears and her confusion into something controllable. He had been the one who had walked her through the intricacies of a Dom/sub relationship and had imparted the surety that contracts and safeguards were important for both parties.

Along with Christian's contract was an updated list of limits and a new Blackberry, preprogrammed with all of his contact information down to the number at his parents home and the mooring number of his ship. Most surprising was the black American Express credit card he'd somehow acquired since last night with her name stamped on the front along with a hand written note in a neat but masculine script.

_**Ms. Steele,**_  
_**Enclosed you will find a phone with full access to me day or night along with a credit card which I'm sure you are already refusing to use. Please do. Part of our agreement is that I shall take care of you in any way that I can and ensuring that you are well fed, well groomed and well entertained is part of that. **_

_**My trainer, a gentleman by the name of Claude Bastille will be contacting you later today to begin your personal training sessions as will a gentleman by the name of Franco who will coordinate your salon visits on a bi-weekly schedule.**_

_**I thoroughly enjoyed our time together this weekend and look forward to Friday. Should you need to speak to me before then, you are welcome to reach out.**_

_**Warm Regards,**_  
_**Christian Grey**_

_Warm regards? That's how I sign my notes to my students._ She caught herself frowning and sat back, shoulders tense. _This is akin to a business transaction for him and is how you should approach it as well. No emotions, just like in the past. _

Sex. Control. Submission. _Stay where comfortable. _

So she signed the documents, heart firmly planted in her chest, and shoved them back in the envelope sealing it before handing it back to the young man waiting in the hall.

* * *

By Friday morning he was so keyed up he was afraid of stroking out but somehow he'd managed to make it through the day with only three temper tantrums and one 'go fuck yourself' to an international lawyer who'd pissed him off. His attention to the minutes as they ticked by only added to his tension and frustration. Never had he been this wound up over a sub. Not even close. Whatever this was, he needed to figure it out and get over it fast.

So when the elevator dinged and Taylor announced Anastasia's arrival he dismissed the man for the night, mentioned wanting to take his normal run at seven instead of six and strolled into the great room where she waited.

_Damn_, she was even prettier than he'd remembered and he'd thought of her hourly for the last five days.

"Mr. Grey, Sir." She smiled at him, his heart seizing at the gentle nature of it. His feet made to move to her and he did, chastising himself with each step. _Get a fucking grip, Grey!_

"Ms. Steele, lovely to see you again. I expect you in the playroom in 10 minutes. Be in position," was all he said before kissing her cheek chastely and moving past her to the kitchen where Gail was finishing dinner. It took incredible will power to not turn around but he managed to exit the room, her scent following him until he stood next to his house manager at the stove.

"Mr. Grey, did you want me to plate this up for you and Ms. Steele?" Mrs. Taylor turned to him, a pot holder in one hand, wooden spoon in the other waiting for his instruction. He hesitated for a few seconds as he tried to get his bearings while beating down the unease settling in his conscious.

He'd never done that before; had a sub go upstairs before dinner on a Friday. It seemed so uncivilized but he was dying to touch her again and he wouldn't unless they were in scene. If his folly on the stairs last Sunday had proven one thing, it was that she affected him in a way that he wasn't comfortable with.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I can handle all of this when we're ready to sit down. Enjoy your weekend, I'll see you Sunday night after I return from my parents to go over the weeks schedule."

His jeans were already on the bed where he'd thrown them earlier in anticipation of her arrival so he dressed quickly and checked his watch, pacing in front of the wall of windows that took up the left side of his bedroom.

_Three minutes._ Three minutes and he could touch her again.

* * *

His greeting had startled her, thrown her off for a few seconds but she recovered quickly and made her way to her room. Truth be told she was disappointed. He'd been so warm and engaging last weekend but today he'd been cold and all business. Was last Sunday just a façade so that she'd sign the contract? Was this the Dom she was really getting?

On the bed was the overnight bag she'd brought with her, Taylors efficiency shining brightly. She stripped to her white lace thongs, covered herself in the silk robe hanging from her door and entered the red room alone for the first time. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of their time in here just a few days ago.

He'd been gentle with her, she knew that and she'd appreciated it at the time but she wasn't so naïve as to think that that was the norm for him. No, she'd learned enough about _The_ Christian Grey to know that his tendencies, while pleasurable, sometimes danced on the line of sadism.

Would she ever see that side of him? Or would he revert back to the engaging Dom from last weekend? Perhaps a mix somewhere in between. He gave her no time to dwell on it because exactly three minutes later he walked in the room and turned on the music, another classical piece she didn't recognize.

She could only see his feet but _Oh God_ his feet were sexy as hell.

"Come to me, Anastasia," he demanded softly, his voice was surer than she remembered. The sound of it did things to her; wound through her and held tight to her insides, burrowing deep so that she craved the sound of it.

She did as she was told, the knots in her stomach twisting with anticipation and nerves as she made her way in front of the sofa, her eyes downcast, hands at her sides. "You look lovely," he mused as he took her in.

Lovely barely covered it. She looked _afuckingmazing_. Long thick braid, skin so smooth it looked like glass, breasts that were literal perfection. And god damn the flare of her hips as they swelled out from her tiny waist. Yeah, lovely was nothing when it came to describing the woman in front of him in only a scrap of sheer lace.

"I like your panties," he whispered in her ear, one finger sliding over the seam of her sex. Over her head he slipped on a black silk eye mask before turning her so that her calves were against the leather of the sofa. "Now sit and take them off slowly while you lean back. Leave your legs in the air but spread them wide. I want to see what's mine."

_Oh god._ A quiver ran through her belly and settled between her legs. She would do anything he wanted so long as he told her to do it in that voice.

She did as he asked, her movements slightly awkward with the blindfold on.

When she was naked he knelt in front of her and looked at her. Just…looked. She heard the click of a camera, instantly regretting not adding photos to her hard limits. Gently he ran one finger down her cleft before sliding it inside of her, another click followed by the thud of the camera being set down on the floor.

"Those are for me alone, Anastasia. I don't share, not even in print." She felt marginally better.

He wanted to taste her in the worst way but instead he ran his nose down the inside of her thigh and inhaled her scent, the perfect mix of sex and woman and Ana. The promise of pleasure and satisfaction. Of sin and salvation. With an awe he hadn't experienced since he was a teenager he ran his fingers over the smooth skin of her pussy lips, watching with delight when she jolted under his touch.

Her hands, unsecured clenched by her sides. _God_ he was totally off of his game with her.

Rectifying it he stood and pulled down a chain from the grid, placing her hands in the leather cuffs so that she was tethered to the ceiling. On each ankle he did the same, securing her legs wide and high, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable. This was how he needed her, just like this. Aware of his authority, needing his touch, completely at his command.

He'd tasted her only briefly before, the tang of her sex staying with him all week in his dreams. His mouth had watered at the thought of his tongue bathing between her lips, his cock dancing in his pants at the most inopportune moments as he thought of it. And now, she was here. Wet for him, wanting him, waiting for him. _If there was a God..._

When his mouth made contact with her sex she moaned above him, the sound of it music to his ears. He laved her with his tongue, stroked her with his fingers and sucked her with his lips but it was when he held the back of her knees in his hands and spread her wider that had her spasming against his face.

_Oh hell yea she tastes good._ Sweet and salty and woman. God damn he'd do that every day if he could. He wanted to take her from behind, slam into her so he could watch her ass ripple with each thrust but then she shifted herself as her orgasm waned and her tits bounced and well _that_ is what he wanted to see so he reared up on his knees, brought her to the edge of couch and slammed in without so much as a warning. She cried out at the unexpected intrusion and gripped the leather cuffs above her.

"Oh fuck yes," he grunted, finally finding the relief his hand had been incapable of all week. "I thought about this all week, couldn't wait to fuck you again, feel this perfect pussy around my cock." Shit she was going to cum again if he kept that rhythm up.

But he didn't. He undid her ankles, lifted her, spun around and sat down on the couch so that she was straddling him. With a yank the chain became tighter, her arms lifting above her head again pushing her breasts forward.

"Ride me. Bounce those perfect tits in my face and ride me." _Yup, I'm going to cum again, _she thought.

Rarely, if ever did he let a sub do this. It left too much room for error, too many ways for hands to slip, too many ways he could be touched but he wanted this with her. Wanted to watch her want him the way he wanted her. She felt good, tight and slick, hot and soft and damn if she didn't look good grinding against him but it wasn't enough. With one finger he flung the blindfold off and then settled back down letting both arms stretch out to his sides. She blinked in the muted light, the blues of her eyes finding his immediately. _Yes,_ he thought, _that's what I want._

"Look at me," he growled, his hands in fists on either side of the couch. "Faster." She sped up, her legs burning without the aid of her arms. "Yes, Anastasia, just like that." His face got a bit redder with his efforts to hold off his orgasm, the muscles in his neck straining to the point of pain. He could hold out a bit longer, maybe a minute…maybe...no, actually, he couldn't.

With each slide down he puffed out a bit more air until finally she saw his eyes roll back and his mouth open on a silent gasp, the sight so beautiful that it pushed her just enough that she joined him there. He jerked beneath her, his warmth bathing her insides as she convulsed around him, tiny whimpers making their way from the back of her throat. In the seconds that followed she thought she heard a 'God damn' but between the pounding of her heart and the rattle of the chains as she hung there she couldn't be sure.

Together they took deep breaths until he lifted her, stood up and untied her, slapping her butt playfully while she rubbed her wrists.

His mind was spinning. _So good, we're so good together. I needed that. Badly._

"Hungry?" His eyes glinted at her with mirth.

"Not anymore," she joked. He laughed and walked her to the bathroom to retrieve a wet washcloth. _This is part of his routine_, she thought. The caring side to his demands. He handed it to her with a smile.

"I'll be in the kitchen, come down when you're ready."

Dressed in a casual blue jersey dress she watched him eat, loving the way he used the fresh baked bread to soak up the red sauce. Loving how his Adams apple moved when he swallowed the Malbec he'd opened specifically for her but most of all loving how animated he was as he told her about a new project he was working on outside of Mexico City.

"If this goes through, GEH will be able to save about 40k jobs and add at least three thousand more in Mexico City directly."

"And the 40k? Are they all in Mexico?" He shook his head, mopping up the last bit of sauce on his plate like a kid. Ana found it endearing. _Adorable_.

"Scattered throughout six regions here in the US." He twirled the pasta on her plate gracefully and fed it to her without a second thought, rattling off the merits of the tax shelters his second in command had put up and how if they played their cards right, this acquisision could bring close to 80k jobs over the next ten years worldwide.

Not once did he mention the money he'd make or the esteem this would bring him or his company. Not one time did he mention the delicate dance of international business acumen he must posses in order to bring this to fruition. He spoke of the little people, the jobs this would create, the money it would generate for local economies and small businesses.

"You want to save the world," she said matter of factly between bites of linguini. He stopped and stared at her, relishing in the little dot of sauce she didn't know about on her chin. Reaching out to wipe it away he thought about it. In a way, yes, he did want to save the world. Strange that she'd seen that since he'd never really put conscious thought to it.

"I enjoy what I do but at the end of the day, there needs to be a driving force to justify the hours and energy I put in. So I guess if I know I can take a thousand people off the unemployment line, I can somehow get past the fact that I've just put in a 70 hour work week for six straight weeks." She smiled at him. He truly had no idea how selfless that made him. He smiled back, the gesture so sincere, so sweet that she felt the fluttering of it in her belly.

With a shrug and a bit of reservation he told her a little about the situation he had been born into. A drug addicted mother, severe poverty, no family. He'd told the same story to the few interviews he'd granted over the years so the revelation wasn't new to her but to hear it from his lips was more than she was prepared for. She hurt for him, her mind flashing back to the small circles she'd noticed on his chest Sunday when he'd stood above her on the bed. _I wonder…_

"…I can't help but think that if there had been jobs and therefore more options that my birth mother would have had a shot at a normal life." He poured more wine, mindlessly reaching for her knee when he leaned forward. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade my life and the family I was given for anything but what opportunities are there for a 19 year old single mother?"

"You speak about her as if she were a victim."

For a moment he thought about it, weighing the validity of that statement against his own conclusions before settling back in his chair. "She was a crack whore. Ultimately she paid the price for her actions," he points to himself, "as did I. But yes, she was a victim of circumstance. Her own." And with that Christian Grey ended the conversation the best way he knew how.

"I'd like to go upstairs again before we call it a night but since this is your first weekend here I feel it only fair to let you know that tomorrow we will be in there for hours." He leaned in, "And outside of meeting you, it's been a shitty three months. I have a lot of energy to work out." She knew what that meant, her insides quivering for whatever it was he wanted to dish out.

"I'm your vessel," she said meekly, her lashes lowering just as the strap of that blue dress slide down an inch.

"Dessert first," he said with a smile, ignoring the swelling of his cock. "You're going to need your strength, Ms. Steele."

She rose and cleared the table while he watched, appreciating the way her body moved, the lines of muscle and delicate bones working in harmony to paint him a beautiful picture he was fully enjoying. When her task was completed he stood and took out a tub of vanilla ice cream and the homemade chocolate sauce he made Gail keep on hand at all times.

"Vanilla," he said, scooping her a generous portion into a bowl she was sure cost more than her outfit.

"One of my favorites!" He was happy to have pleased her and even more happy when she closed her eyes and moaned over the spoon of chocolate he'd handed to her. "Oh my goodness." He was going to spread that over her body one of these days, lay her out on the table, lick it off nice and slow…

"Speaking of vanilla," he started, the name Paul Clayton coming to mind, "have all of your sexual experiences been BDSM related or have you had vanilla sex as well?"

The question startled her a bit. _Hasn't everyone had vanilla sex?_ _It's not like you start off in this lifestyle._

"Of course I have." His face fell for a quick second, her stomach with it._ Hadn't he?_ His brows raised while he waited for her to elaborate while mentally she debated whether or not to say anymore. Clearly she'd struck a nerve.

"Please continue." It was not a pleasant request. Now the question was _how_ much to tell.

"I've had quite a few experiences with normal sex I guess you could call it. The first boy I ever slept with wasn't in the lifestyle. I didn't even know about BDSM back then."

"And he was the only one?" He did _not_ like the fact that she'd been with other men. The thought troubled him but to know she had done something with a man that he himself had never experienced, it plain pissed him off. Inside he seethed.

"The Dom I had, the last long term one, there were a handful of times sex had no BDSM element to it." Her face was bright red but he'd asked and she wasn't ashamed. Dominick had been good to her and if he had wanted kinkless sex every now and then, she was happy to give that to him. To her it had been another way to satisfy her Dom.

"How many is a handful? And what was the context?" Was he serious? How the hell was she supposed to remember that? She bit back the snarky retort and looked straight into those beautiful gray eyes.

"Eight or nine. And I'd rather not discuss specifics since I'm bound to an NDA with him as well."

"So you can't tell me his name?" He'd find out either way, of that he was sure. He hated the man already. _Loathed_ him.

"No." _What the fuck? Just...no? _It was all he could do not to spit out the names of the other men she'd fucked out of spite just to prove that her secrets weren't safe so long as he wanted to know.

"He's from Seattle? Or Vancouver where you went to school?"

"He's from Washington, I'll leave it at that." One nod, so much meaning. He was pissed at her refusal to give him information. "I wouldn't share anything about you with anyone else either, Sir."

At that he came back to himself, the anger retreating a bit. Casually he scooped up another spoonful and brought it to his lips, asking the one question she knew he would ask eventually.

"Why did it end between you?" It was standard to go over such questions as this. She'd been a bit upset with herself that she hadn't gotten any referrals from him but her head had been so far in the clouds that she'd skipped over the safety measures entirely.

"He fell in love." Simple. To the point. Christian's heart flipped over.

_Love?_

"With you?"

"Yes." He hated that man for all he was worth which probably wasn't much. _Fuck him. _He'd find him, flaunt Ana in his face and watch as he crumbled. He had her last and he'd loved her. Offered her the one thing he himself could never give her. _Fuck him._

"So you ended it?"

"Yes." One word answers. He wanted more but she was holding her cards close. "Has that ever happened to you? Has a submissive ever fallen in love with you before?" He scoffed. This conversation was all kinds of inappropriate but he was enjoying the casual feel of the evening too much to filter himself. Perhaps if he gave her information, she'd give him what it was he wanted.

"Yes. I can think of six off the top of my head that had to be let go because of it and I'm pretty sure there was another who never outright said it but her behavior told me otherwise." She was floored. That was half of his submissives!

"But you've never…fallen for one of them?" He looked disgusted at the thought.

"No. I don't do the boyfriend girlfriend thing and I certainly don't do love. The minute I sense emotions like that are part of the equation the contract is reviewed. If she admits to feelings or worse, declares them, the contract is terminated immediately. I don't do messy and love, feelings, emotional ties? That's as messy as it gets."

He was right of course and she'd known that going in but the finality of his words, the way he spoke about feelings as if they were annoying and cursed hurt her for some reason. In his own way he had spelled out exactly where his own emotional lines were and then told her not to cross them. _Message received._

"How did he handle it when you left?"

"Not well," she said truthfully. "He had what's akin to a grown up temper tantrum and then did everything he could to win me back but it was useless. I had zero interest in a relationship with him outside of what we had had for over a year. I enjoyed our time together but when it was over, it was over."

_Enjoyed_. He didn't like the sound of that either. _What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I care? Of course she enjoyed it, why else would she do it again? _

"And does he still? Try to contact you and win you back as you put it?" She blushed at what she perceived as teasing.

He wasn't teasing. Not even a little.

"Occassionally. I haven't heard from him in a few weeks but yes, he's still interested." She caught the flare of anger just in time to lay her hand over his in an effort to calm him. "I have no interest in speaking with him or reconnecting, Sir."

But he wasn't about to take the chance and give her the opportunity to even think about that man again. No, he'd bring her pleasure and security like she'd never known. Somehow, he'd eradicate the memory of all of them from her mind starting right now.

"You are never to speak to him so long as you are a submissive of mine." The words were spoken firmly but menacingly.

"Of course not, Sir. I would never disrespect you like that, Sir." Again her lashes lowered in a physical show of submission.

"Time's up, Ms. Steele and I feel the need to bend you over that bench." He grabbed the bowls, walked them to the sink and then motioned for her to get upstairs. He followed closely behind her until she stood next to the leather covered bench he'd directed her to.

With coarse rope and leather cuffs he tied her there, her belly flat against the cool leather while he secured both wrists and ankles. His flogging was for pleasure, the silken tips of the instrument in direct contrast with the harsh rope wrapped around her extremities. When he entered her from behind this time it was gentle though he didn't need to be. She smiled, touched that he'd remembered her pain from their last session. She felt cared for, safe, secure.

He fucked her in that position for a long time, his strokes sometimes shallow, sometimes deep but always accompanied by his fingernails scratching along the length of her back. It was both soothing and erotic, the buildup of pleasure so great that she came with tears in her eyes when he finally allowed it.

At the last moment he pulled loose of her body and emptied himself with a grunt on the perfect skin of her ass, rubbing his semen into her skin before laying a nice smack on each cheek that would leave a perfect handprint for the next few hours.

_Mine_, he thought as her skin turned pink. When he was through with her, she'd only ever remember his name.

* * *

By Sunday she was sore in both the sexual way and the physical way. When he said he'd put her through her paces all day Saturday, he hadn't been kidding. Never, in the five years she'd been having sex had she met a man who could one, get it up as often and as quickly and two, use it so well.

Saturday morning he'd gone for his run as scheduled and had come home to a Greek omelet and hash browns. Pleasantly surprised at her ability in the kitchen he rewarded her with a rare kiss on the lips before retreating to his office to work for a few hours.

While she read on the couch he worked in his study, going to the kitchen to get himself a drink or a piece of fruit so that he could peek in on her. At one he'd had enough of work, couldn't concentrate on it anyway, and had ordered her to the playroom again. At six he called for takeout and at ten he'd carried her limp and sated body to her bed, sponged her down while she was half asleep and then had worked until eleven when even he couldn't keep his eyes open.

Sunday she made pancakes and bacon, dancing around in nothing but a robe and panties with slippers since it was starting to get cold out. He'd come out of his bedroom when he heard her moving around only to find her with her ear buds in, her hips keeping a silent beat. He stood still, waiting to hear her sing a line or two but she never did, just hummed and mouthed words until she caught him watching. And when that blush stole over her face he'd tied her hands behind her back with the sash of that robe and then he draped her over one of the bar stools so that he could feast on the sweetness between her thighs while the pancakes burned.

It would be a pity to let her leave a bit earlier than normal today but he'd promised his family he'd go on the boat with them for his mothers birthday and as much as he was used to disappointing them, he wasn't so much of a dick that he'd skip out on Grace Grey's birthday dinner.

_Just as well_, he thought when she sat at the breakfast bar with a wince. He'd made her sore much to his delight and as much as he enjoyed her mouth, it was the way she completely submitted to him when he was inside of her that he enjoyed the most.

After breakfast he'd carried her to her room to run her a bath using the oils Gail had furnished the room with. He hadn't intended to fuck her again but when she got in and smiled up at him as he ran the cloth over her breasts he let his dick do the directing. He'd let her ride him again in the bathtub while he held her arms behind her back, another first for him but he didn't tell her that. He'd bathed all of his subs, even Elena. But never had he gotten in with them let alone fuck them like that. The thought hadn't even occurred to him but when he saw her, brunette hair damp on her back, suds covering the swell of her chest, face flushed by the heat he had to have her. _Had to._ Plain and simple.

They'd lazed around the apartment after a particularly intense session with a flogger he'd dubbed, 'The Mop' due to its number of tendrils and the way it fell heavily against the skin. Somewhere in between her sucking him off in front of the mirror and getting flogged on the cross she noticed that the larger canes had been removed. The whip was left on the wall, something she'd yet to experience pleasurably in her years of participation and the smaller canes were still there but the ones she'd cringed at when he fingered them yesterday morning were gone.

At first she'd considered adding the whip to her hard limits but during the week when she had gone back to Imperium to speak with Mistress Monroe, with Mr. Grey's blessing of course, she'd learned that the whip was his specialty. The whip had always terrified her, the two times it had been used on her causing intense pain that left her shaking and fearful. But she trusted him and she trusted Mistress Monroe so she said nothing, opting to watch as he ran his hand over the leather in a bid to unnerve her. It had worked. As much as she trusted his skill, Anastasia had no desire to actually put it to the test.

They left together in time for him to catch his parent's boat and for her to run a few errands, exiting the elevator and parting without a kiss. He felt the loss of that moment as much as she had but this was the nature of their arrangement. Kissing goodbye was akin to a relationship and despite the definition of what that was, theirs was an arrangement, not a relationship.

When she fell into her own bed Sunday night she had to admit that he was the best Dom she'd ever had. Nobody could make her cum more than three times in a day but Christian? God she'd lost count yesterday. And today, when he took her in the bath her orgasm had been painful it had been so intense.

His mother's birthday dinner had been nice. He was, for the moment, void of all tension and for the most part sated but he still thought of Anastasia. Wondered if she'd gone to the grocery store like she said she was going to. Wondered what she'd had for dinner, if she'd eaten alone or with someone. Wondered if she was thinking of him the way he was of her.

That night he had the dream again. Anastasia on the bed, crimson sheets beneath her, hair wild around her. He'd taken her like that twice this weekend but her hair had been braided and her hands had been bound. And _that_ was what woke him up in a blind panic.

Because in his dream, Anastasia Steele was touching him.

And he was enjoying it.


	5. Chapter 5

By the fifth weekend they'd hit their groove. Arrival at six, a quick, passionate, almost frenzied session in the playroom followed by dinner, wine, dessert and another scene that went late into the night. Fridays tended to be about getting off more than they were about the intricacies of the lifestyle, another first for him but one he'd decided was worth the change.

He sold himself on the unorthodox way they commenced their weekends with justifications of the long hours he'd been putting in throughout the week on the Mexico City deal and the fact that she still needed training despite how well she preformed for him. But the truth was that by the time Friday rolled around he was desperate for her body as much as he was for her company, the lightness that their conversations brought him a nice way to end the week.

The details of their play, the long drawn out sessions that filled a need in each other, those were reserved for Saturdays. Ana would cook breakfast while Christian ran with Taylor or sparred with Bastille and would have it waiting for him after his shower. They'd laze about, catch up on emails or read a book and then when he couldn't distract himself any longer he'd command her to go upstairs and get into position. On Saturdays he took his time, laid out the scene he'd planned all week and then he'd demonstrate his prowess in all things sexual.

There seemed to be a pattern to his scenes. Saturdays usually began with Ana somehow restrained while he would sexually torture her with the lighter objects he kept on hand; vibrators, dildos, ben-wah balls. He never rushed that first scene, never hurried her along to orgasm, never lost focus on the task at hand. He rarely, if ever, removed his jeans until he was ready to enter her but even that was done with careful strokes and plunges.

She found herself in awe of him during these sessions, in total amazement at the command he had over not only her body but his as well. After the groping and harsh demands of Friday nights she was always taken aback by the slow, methodical nature of his control only a few hours later. Everything he did was planned out down to the timing of their climaxes and the way in which they would reach them. Christian demanded absolute authority over her body and her mind and absolute authority is what he received. When he told her not to make a sound, she complied. When he ordered her to count aloud, she did without question and when he commanded her to cum, she fell spectacularly from the cliff he'd made her climb.

Lunch was casual, usually an antipasto or sandwiches in the library where Ana had determined she would spend every waking moment while at Escala. He didn't mind. In fact, he got a kick out of the way she'd plow through a book each weekend, lying on her stomach on the suede couch, feet in the air, ankles crossed. From the door he'd study her, amused by the way her mouth would move as she read, smiling to himself at the ridiculous facial expressions she made or the way she would talk to characters. There was a solace her presence brought to him, a warmth that filled this cold apartment and brought him a much needed mental escape.

Saturday afternoons though were an entirely different story. They'd head up to the Red Room as she now called it around three after Ana had prepped whatever dinner she was going to make that night. It was this session in which he'd push them both, holding off on orgasms, trying out insane positions, using tools like the Whartenburg Wheel to bring out the pain receptors to the surface of her skin. He showed an affiniation for nipple clamps and rope binding but what surprised her was how rarely he used a blindfold on her.

More often than not he'd take her face to face and demand that she look at him, holding her chin in his hand if she tried to look away from his piercing stare. It was too hard not to fall into those gray eyes, too difficult to hide the care she held for him or the victory she felt when he would finally relinquish his control and submit to his body's need for release.

Over dinner he'd take her all in, eager to hear about the minutia of her week, the glimpses of her life away from him feeding a need in him while at the same time stirring up a different kind of desire. She amused him, made him laugh and engaged him in the day to day comings and goings of life that had never held any interest to him until now. Had he ever spent time like this with another human being? Had he ever known the names of his submissives neighbors or of their friends? Had he ever chosen conversation over seduction? He pondered those questions and more as she chattered on, completely unaware of just how beguiling she was to the man across from her.

It was this reason, these mundane conversations that were so new to him that had him cancelling weekend travel so that he could be home with her. It would delay the closing of a few deals and it forced him to travel during the week often but that was a small price to pay he figured as he laughed at her imitation of a cat in heat.

"Will you ever come to my place? You can't meet my neighbor Maggie the cat lady until you do." She wasn't serious, certainly didn't expect him to _want_ to come over but her other Doms had wanted to check out her living arrangements and had even set up a few interludes there. Her heart dropped at the change in him at such a simple, off the cuff question.

Gone was the crinkle of his eyes where he had been smiling, gone was the ease in his shoulders as he ate, gone was the casual air that had surrounded them for dinner. He sat back, wiped his mouth on a napkin and locked her eyes with his.

"No, Anastasia. I only play here." For a moment he stared at her, intent on getting his message across before he finally reached for his fork, spearing a shrimp while he continued. "However, my family is going to my home in Aspen for Thanksgiving. They'll be there for a few days but will be heading out early Saturday morning. I'd like for you to fly in immediately after they leave. I'll arrange for your transport of course but plan to stay until Monday morning when we'll fly back together."

_Oh shit._ This was unexpected and not good news. Her heart tripped again, knowing that she was about to disappoint him.

"I'll be at my parents' house until Sunday, Mr. Grey." His brows lifted marginally. Was she...telling him_ no_? "I leave Seattle Wednesday afternoon and help my mom cook that night so that dinner is ready for our guests on Thursday. Then I go to the Black Friday sales with my two friends from high school and Saturday my dad and I always go to the UDub homecoming game and Sunday my mom and I decorate the house for Christmas."

She had successfully held her disappointment in check when he refused her invitation to her apartment but the way he was looking at her, each word making him seem angrier and angrier made her nervous. Being the focus of his irritation wasn't something she'd experienced with him before and while she enjoyed a light punishment every now and then, the safety this newest arrangement had afforded her had become quite comfortable.

"I didn't ask for an itinerary, Anastasia, I asked you to join me. If you can't, you can't." His voice was as cold as the November wind whipping past the windows. He sat back, brows knitting together as he deliberately chewed, his eyes again boring into hers. "What I'm perplexed about is that you made plans over a weekend even though you're beholden to me on the weekends. Care to explain? Or should I just pull out a copy of our contract to remind you?"

He was mad. She could tell by the low tone of his voice and the way he looked at her, as if he were planning her discipline already. Nothing moved between them. She remained still, her hand mid-air between the table and her mouth, a glass of wine in it. He sat perfectly still. Legs crossed, hands on his lap, head straight ahead.

"It's Thanksgiving weekend, I assumed our normal schedule would be null," she stuttered.

"_Assuming_, in my world, is unacceptable. Your job is to report to me, something you did not do." Blank. His expression was totally blank as he stared at her. "You have ten minutes to get to the playroom. It seems as if you need a reminder as to who is the Dominant in this arrangement." He stood, threw his napkin on the table and leaned down to her ear. "Be ready, Ms. Steele because I am _not_ a happy man right now."

In his room he stripped to his jeans and then splashed cold water on his face. _She hadn't even thought of spending time with me over the holiday._ The sting of it caught him by surprise. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that she'd hurt his feelings.

With another splash he laughed menacingly at the man before him in the mirror. _Feelings_. No, his feelings weren't hurt, he was just pissed that he'd let her think that she didn't answer to him. Throwing his shoulders back he made his way to the playroom.

Time to remind his submissive who made the decisions between them.

In position in nothing more than a thin red thong he'd purchased for her sometime over the last few weeks she waited. And waited. And waited. Almost 40 minutes he had her on that floor while her legs went numb and her heart alternated between racing from anxiety and anticipation.

The breeze from the door was followed by the breeze of his body as he walked past her to the Chesterfield where he sat down with his back to her. Still, she waited while he sat still, a tumbler of what she assumed was scotch in the hand that rested along the back of the leather couch. She almost cried with relief when he finally spoke to her.

"Crawl to me on your knees but do not look at me." It was almost painful to move her legs after an hour of kneeling but she was so grateful to be getting this punishment started that she ignored the tingles of pain and went to him, resuming her position between his open and naked legs. "Hands behind your back or I'll tie them. Now suck my cock but do not make me cum."

For close to 15 minutes she slid her mouth up and down while her tongue did what it could to swirl and flick the tip of his dick, so engorged it looked almost foreign. He remained silent, only the constant state of his erection giving her any indication that he liked what she was doing until he grabbed her braid and pulled her off of him.

"Stop," he barked and then took himself in hand, yanked her head back by her hair and emptied onto her chest. With each jet of semen that covered her he felt the tiniest bit better about what he perceived as her ambivilance towards their agreement. "Rub it all over your tits and stomach." She did, the act so erotic she could feel her heartbeat in her clit. When she was covered he leaned his head back and closed his eyes to wait the ten minutes it took for his orgasm to dry on her skin. She took the opportunity to study him in a rare state.

Flaccid. It almost made her laugh when she thought about it. Every time they'd been together he'd been hard.

"Up."

She stood, her legs unsteady from being bent for so long and watched him walk to the bureau to remove the lube he kept there but had never needed before. "Hands out, palms up." The clear liquid filled her hands. He walked to the bed, sat on the edge and commanded, "Crawl to me and jerk me off."

To her astonishment, he was ready to go even though he'd just cum and she hadn't touched him again. With both hands she set to her task until her arms were burning and her hands were numb. He watched with detached amusement as she worked up a sweat, her breasts jiggling as her palms slid up and down his length.

"Lay on the bed," he gritted out after awhile, fisting himself again while she scrambled onto the crimson sheets. "Spread your legs."

He came then, his eyes glued to the wetness between her legs as streams of cum covered the inside of her thighs and her sex. She was drowning with desire to be touched by him. Fucked, fingered, licked, she didn't care so long as Christian touched her.

So gorgeous, was all she thought as she watched him pleasure himself in front of her. His skin was flushed with his efforts, the sheen of sweat so tempting that she balled her hands into fists to keep from touching him. When he was finished he rested both hands on her thighs, pulling them apart while he caught his breath.

"Rub it all over your pussy." _God his voice, those words. _The feel of her hands on the place she needed attention the most...she couldn't help it, she moaned.

"No! Do not pleasure yourself in anyway. This is for me, Anastasia. Not you. Me. Why should I think of you when you don't think of me? Get back in position."

She blinked back her surprise at the hurt she heard in his words and obeyed doing her best to keep her gaze downcast while he walked around the room before ultimately settling himself back down on the couch. She was uncomfortable, itchy where he had dried, cool where he had not, pulsing where she desired him.

Christian paced around the room twice as he struggled to get himself back into the headspace he needed to be in. It was totally logical that she'd assume Thanksgiving weekend would be different. It made absolute sense that she would be going home to see her family and wouldn't be available to him. There was no reason to be so worked up about this. None.

_So why am I so fucking pissed? Why is her pending absence making it hard to breath?_

After what felt like forever he called for her softly, "Come here, Ms. Steele." When she stood before him, glistening with his remnants he smirked and then motioned for her to turn around. "Bend over and grip the bed post."

_God, she's so fucking gorgeous._

He went to her then, bent her over further and then tied her hands with the rough leather strips hanging from the post. Cool satin fell over her eyes as he blindfolded her. Immediately her other senses heightened. She heard the low strains of the piano playing whatever piece he'd put on when he first walked in. She could smell his aftershave more clearly, his shampoo and that unique scent that was his and his alone. Her ears picked up the distinct sound of a paddle being taken off of the wall and the soft pads of his footsteps as he made his way back to her.

Without warning he wrapped her braid around his hand let the paddle fly so that it hit her directly over her sex. She cried out, he yanked harder. "No noise!" Another blow to the same spot. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. Inside her body twisted in on itself, the vibrations and lingering sting travelling directly to the empty space so desperately needing him to fill it.

_More, I need more._

More is exactly what he gave her. Three more to each cheek to be exact, his hand pulling her head back a little more each time until she was so far back she thought her spine might crack. But it didn't because just when she was about to yellow word, he let her hair go, stood behind her and pushed himself in carefully. Sweet relief.

"This is for my pleasure only, Ms. Steele, you are not to cum." Again and again he drove into her until her body began to hum and her insides began to clench. "Do!" _thrust_, "Not!" _thrust_, "Cum!" _Oh god_ but she was going to if he didn't stop. He kicked her legs open further, the rhythmic smack of his balls against her clit too much for her to take. Her fingernails dug into the wood, her toes curled beneath her, her shoulders trembled as she fought off the natural response to his perfect stimulation.

But just as she was about to scream out, just as she was about to tell him she couldn't hold off any longer he pulled out and came on her ass with a roar she was sure the floor below them could hear. Three times in less than two hours he'd come. _How was that even possible?_

When he finished he pulled her up and untied her from the bed keeping her hands bound while he walked her over to the floor to ceiling mirror. His breath was harsh in her ear from his exertion but it was the way he looked at her that made her flush with heat. Gone was the anger, gone was the desire. He just looked...hurt.

"Look at yourself."

She did, the evidence of the their time together all over her, all over the way her lips were swollen and her hands still tingled. "You are mine, Anastasia. It's written all over your body. What you do is my business. Since you give me no authority during the week, I will enforce our weekend agreement to the fullest. You are mine," he growled, "and I will decide where you go during our scheduled time together."

The possession he felt when he looked her over scared the shit out of him. He'd felt ownership of the others but never like this. But Ana? When he called her his, he'd meant it. Was it his fear that had him overreacting? Was it his own way of fighting back the notion that he would actually miss her? Was it knowing that she'd be in the same town as Paul Clayton while he was a thousand miles away. Alone?

He ran his hand over her breast, still sticky from his cum and her sweat. "Mine, Anastasia. Your time, your fucking, your orgasm, all mine." He cupped her mound, the hissed pleasure falling from her lips before she closed her eyes. She was so close.

"Open your eyes!" She did so immediately. "Tell me, Ms. Steele, the next time you plan a weekend away, who will you talk to first?"

"You, Sir," she whimpered, doing her best to not grind against his palm. His other hand wrapped around her braid and pulled her head to his chest, the contact both pleasurable and terrifying to him.

"Who's cum is all over your body?" The hand on her sex squeezed rhythmically while he waited.

"Yours, Sir."

"Who am I to you, Ms. Steele?" Her heart slammed painfully against her sternum. She wanted to call him her lover, the realization that she had, despite her best efforts, been just another to fall under his spell killing her inside.

"My Dominant, Sir." His own heart thudded then but she had no way of knowing that. No way of knowing that the title disappointed him for reasons he didn't understand. Instead he reacted with aggression at the sign of weakness he was so unaccustomed to within himself and prodded her legs further apart.

"Who am I to you, Ms. Steele?" The same question, a different answer.

"My Sir," she cried when he slid one finger inside of her and kept it there while his palm continued to pulse over her clit.

"Wrong!" He yelled, his face a mask of fury that frightened her.

_What does he want? How am I wrong?_

"I don't understand then, Sir," she said as her hands, still tied behind her back clutched at his thighs in an attempt to find balance. She was desperate for release, dizzy with the anticipation, exhausted from the mental game of punishment and the crushing blow that came with having disappointed him.

"I am your Master, Ms. Steele. Now cum for me and know that this is a gift. Your body, your time, your pleasure are mine." He moved his hand up and rubbed her clit with two fingers as fast as he could until she screamed and her legs buckled. He didn't stop until she was finished, too turned on by the sight of her covered in his semen while his hand brought her to orgasm.

With the tenderness she'd come to expect from him after their sessions he carried her to the bed and untied her hands, massaging them each until the numbness left and her breathing regulated. Her eyes were downcast as they were supposed to be in this room but she wouldn't have looked at him anyway. There was a reason submissives kept their eyes down in the presence of their Doms. She had understood that from the beginning. But this time, it wasn't to show him her submission, it was to hide her emotions.

Because Anastasia Steele had done the unthinkable. She had fallen for her Master.

* * *

That night she awoke from her slumber to the sound of screams. Heart racing, body alive with adrenaline she rushed to the door and threw on the robe he'd hung there after he had bathed her. As fast as she could she ran to his room, the patter of another set of feet on the marble floors quickly catching up to her.

"Ms. Steele," Taylor said right before she opened the bedroom door, "please go back to your room." She hesitated even as he pushed past her. He turned, his face set in a mask of stone. "Your room, now please."

It would have hurt less had he punched her in the gut. She wasn't wanted. Something was wrong with Christian and she was not wanted by him or anyone else in his life. Her place was upstairs. In the submissive bedroom, in the playroom, and occasionally on the random surfaces he bent her over and bound her hands to in his apartment.

She stood there, mouth agape at the closed door and waited until his shouts subsided and then silently ran back to her room where she huddled under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut. When she heard the first notes of the grand piano she glanced at her alarm clock, shocked that it was only nine minutes that had passed since she'd been awakened by his terror.

The music was magnificent. Fluid and graceful; one note bleeding into the next until her pillow was wet with the emotions the song wrung out of her. 'Into the Dark' by Sebastian Larsson was one of the many pieces she'd learned during music school but to hear it on the heels of what had to be a nightmare was just too much for her heart to take.

For over an hour he played and she listened, feeling somehow that if she could absorb some of his anguish, if she could ride the pain with him then he could find rest. She huddled by the closed door, willing him to feel her, wanting him to know that he wasn't alone, hoping that he would seek comfort from her no matter how he needed it.

With each note he worked through the memories of being burned, of being neglected, of being forgotten. Each line eased the tension between his shoulders. Each stanza taking him further and further from his past and the horrors that lived there. But there wasn't a song long enough to grant him the escape he really needed.

He had woken her, he knew that much and was grateful that Taylor had turned her away before she'd seen him sweating and terrified on his bed like a child. But unlike the others who had been privy to his fears, she lingered on the peripheral of his mind. He could go to her, find solace in the sweetness of her body but he needed so much more than that from her. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to confide in her, so much he wanted to share with her.

So he sat where he was and willed for her to listen. Willed for her to feel the depression that rang through the apartment, willed for her to see that despite the man he presented himself to be, he was nothing more than a monster.

Two lives, so intimately intertwined and still so separate.

* * *

He had been careful with her on Sunday but hadn't addressed her punishment since as a Dom, he didn't need to despite feeling a small bit of remorse over it. She knew her transgression, understood it was never to happen again and had accepted her fate and his dominance.

Still, he was pissed off when she had refused to see him for even one night before his trip to Aspen. He had been aloof when he'd asked her, his embarrassment over the nightmare keeping him in his office for the majority of the day on Sunday but still, he wanted to see her before he left. Wanted one last fuck to carry him over the long holiday. Ana had let him down gently, reminding him that she had booked students late into the evening Monday and Tuesday to make up for lost revenue but that didn't matter to him at all.

He wanted to see her. She said no and he, again, cursed himself for allowing her to dictate the terms of their contract with regards to their scheduled time. He'd taken her on the marble table in the foyer before walking her to the garage where they would part. He'd fucked her as hard as he could, using his body instead of his words to communicate just how pissed off she was leaving him.

For a short time he had felt better. His limbs were heavy with exhaustion, his balls empty, his mind clear. But then he'd made the mistake of going into her room before he left on Wednesday where her soft scent filled his senses. He'd texted her, asked if she had left for Montesano yet in the hopes that he could get her to stop by his place before she left but she was already gone.

So it was that he found himself halfcocked and horny as hell on the Friday night after Thanksgiving. He and Elliot were sitting by the fire in the great room while his mother and Mia rattled on and on about the gifts they had bought for Christmas. Normally their chatter soothed him, a sweet reminder of his childhood when things were so much simpler but tonight, it just reminded him of the female company he was missing so much.

"Who was that bracelet for, C?" Lazily he glanced at Elliot and smirked.

"No one you know."

With a scoff Elliot knocked back another sip of the aged bourbon and crossed his ankles on the oversized leather ottoman. "With all the women I've fucked, you can't be sure of that." He laughed at his own joke, "If I don't know her, I bet I know a friend of hers."

_Seven others before him._ He studied his older brother with a critical eye, anger and fear boiling in his veins. The likelihood of Elliot being the Dominant that had fallen in love with Ana was slim to none but...stranger things had happened. And for as much as he knew about Elliot's sexual proclivities, he really hadn't paid much attention to the things he gravitated towards.

"Ever slept with a girl named Anastasia?" He was being careless but he had to know. Elliot's eyes grew large at the offering of information. _Any_ personal exchange from Christian was a rarity but this, this was completely unreal. Deliberately he tapped one finger over his bottom lip as if thinking.

"Anastasia? You got a last name?" He tried to sound casual but he was too keen to find out more. For 22 years he had wanted a brother and this tiny conversation was the most he had gotten in a long time.

"Steele." _Well, now he knows, _Christian thought bitterly. _And he knows I'm not gay._

Elliot grinned as big as he could and shook his head slowly. "Can't say I have. You must have found the one girl in Seattle I haven't invaded." At this Christian laughed much to the surprise of everyone who could hear it. The relief at not having shared his girl…correction, his _submissive_ with his brother was overwhelming.

Would he have cared if he had been with Leila? Or Susannah or Heather or Kira? For a moment he digested it, let the image of his brother and those women wash over him and with a shrug realized, _no_, he wouldn't have given half a shit. But Ana? Different story altogether.

"Is it serious?" But the veil of secrecy and silence had fallen again now that he knew she was safe from Elliot. "Oh come on, man, don't hold out on me now!" Silence. "Well," Elliot said, a bit pissed off, "it has to be serious enough for you to drop $30 grand on her."

Christian huffed out a snort and took a long pull off of the Cuban cigar his father had handed to him after dinner. "$30 grand is nothing to me, Elliot." He wasn't bragging. It was just a fact. For a moment he felt Elliot's stare, the frustrated and annoyed vibe making Christian question the way he'd handled the conversation.

"You're such a dick, C." And with that, he was left alone in front of a roaring fire in a 10,000 square foot home. Thirty grand _wasn't_ a lot, in fact it was pennies compared to his net worth but he'd still never spent that much on a single gift for one of his submissives before. He chuckled to himself. If Elliot had found out about the matching necklace and earrings he'd have choked. Had he found out about the diamond nipple clamps, he'd have shit a brick.

* * *

When her phone rang she knew it was Christian before she even reached for it. She could just...feel him.

"Good evening, Sir." His silence only heightened her desire for him, the almost inaudible sound of his breathing on the other end of the phone causing her nipples to tighten with expectation. She missed him.

He exhaled, the sound of her voice exactly what it was he had been craving for almost a week now. He would do just about anything right now to be in his apartment with her.

"Strip off your clothes, Anastasia." She did, grateful that she was in her childhood bedroom and had already said goodnight to her parents. "Get on your knees on top of your bed and put the phone on speaker." He gave her a minute. "Now lower yourself to your forearms so that your breasts are barely touching the sheets. Move back and forth as if I were fucking you from behind."

He heard her intake of breath, heard the rustle of sheets and cupped his balls. "Do you want me, Anastasia?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you miss me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"My cock or my company, Anastasia?" Her heart broke a little. He was drunk. If she couldn't have told by the slight slur of his words than that question would have given him away.

"Both, Sir." He smiled, resting his head back against the cool white pillow on his bed.

"Tonight, Ms. Steele, you will call me Master." She groaned as her nipples rubbed against the cool cotton.

"Yes, Master."

"Keep rubbing your tits like that until I tell you to do otherwise." She wanted so badly to touch herself. It had been almost a week and she was desperate. "Have you masturbated since you left me on Sunday?"

"No, Master."

"Why not?"

"It's against your rules." She was mewling now.

"Do you want me to get you off, Ms. Steele?"

"Yes, Master. Please."

"Reach back and fuck yourself with two fingers but do not touch your clit." She moaned, the throaty sound causing his dick to surge. He fisted himself and imagined it was her pussy.

_God I miss her. _

Her breaths began to come in quick pants, his strokes matching the fervency of her impassioned moans.

"Do not cum, Anastasia."

"No, Master."

"Tell me what you feel like."

"Wet," she panted, "slippery…hot…soft…so soft." He was going to cum if she kept that up and he wasn't ready for this to be over.

"How do you taste?" He knew. Knew better than anything or anyone because he loved to lick her. To watch her squirm under his tongue, to feel her vibrate under his ministrations, to taste her sexuality as she came for him…heaven.

She put her fingers in her mouth hesitantly. She didn't share his affiniation for this particular taste but she couldn't disobey him. "Musky…salty."

"Sweet. You taste sweet too." His mouth watered. His hand moved faster, his body grew tenser. He'd have his face buried between her thighs as soon as he could arrange it.

"Yes, Master." Silently she disagreed.

"Now fuck yourself until you come and let me hear it, Ms. Steele. Do not stop until you've cum and do not move from this position."

She did, her breathing escalating with his until he heard a muffled groan and the telltale panting he'd come to love. He came then as well, hot ropes covering his abdomen and hand. When the last shudder raced through him he reached one finger over and hit the end button on his cell without saying another word.

* * *

On Tuesday her phone vibrated on her desk, the sound hard to ignore even over the strings being plucked at by the 45 year old woman across from her. As soon as the lesson was over Ana picked up the Blackberry Christian had given her and quickly read the text he'd sent 13 minutes ago.

**-My apartment. 7pm.**

But she couldn't. She'd promised to attend her friend Jose's art show.

**+I wish I could but I have previous plans that I can't break.**

**-What plans? And next time, I expect a response immediately, not 13 minutes later.**

She fought the urge to remind him that theirs was not a total power exchange and that her time away from Escala was just that. Her time.

**+I'm attending a friends gallery opening. It's been planned for months and I can't cancel on him. I was his muse.**

**-Him?**

She could feel the animosity in that one single word.

**+Yes. A friend for a long time and nothing more than a friend.**

She didn't have to explain herself to him. Outside of their contractual relationship, she owed him nothing and if their last weekend together had proven anything to her, it was that she needed to keep that line clearly defined. For herself.

The phone rang in her hand, the shrill sound startling her.

"Hello, Mr. Grey."

"I will accompany you to this event," was his curt reply. She stood there, shocked and somewhat bewildered by his self invitation.

"I…you'll be photographed there."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"A few of my friends know about my…lifestyle." At this his thoughts paused at the implications. "Two of them know I currently have a Dom. If you're with me, they'll figure it out." She was nervous. Excited at the prospect of spending time with him outside of the apartment but afraid he'd reject her now that he knew it would essentially out him to a few people.

"Are these friends of yours discreet?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation.

"And is one of them the gentleman whose show it is?"

"His name is Jose Rodriguez and yes, he does as does my best friend Kate."

"Was Mr. Rodriguez your Dom?"

"No! Jose isn't into the lifestyle at all. He just knows I am because we're best friends."

Leaning back in his black leather chair Christian smirked. _Good, the fucker will know that we're sleeping together then. No better way to send that message than to let him know in person._

"It's in Seattle?"

"Yes," she said after realizing he couldn't see her nod.

"Then I'll pick you up at 6:45. I'm sorry I can't do dinner beforehand, I have a meeting that will last at least until late evening."

"Are you sure, Sir? You said you'd never taken anyone out before and I know you don't want anyone knowing"

"Are you questioning me?" he interrupted with a low growl.

"No, Sir." She was immediately contrite. He repeated the time and hung up. It was risky to be seen in public with a submissive when he himself was so recognizable. Anyone could make the connection if they were familiar with Anastasia's proclivities but he couldn't go one more night without seeing her and frankly, the idea of her spending time with a man didn't sit well with him.

Exposure was a risk he was willing to take if it meant getting her body under his command three days earlier than scheduled and the simple fact of the matter was that he didn't care if her friends knew who he was so long as he was the one by her side.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time the Audi pulled in front of Ana's apartment she was wet with anticipation and he was hard as granite. Seeing Taylor at her door instead of Christian was a bit dishearting but she had expected it since he'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't want to see where she lived because being in her space was too personal.

As if fucking someone a hundred times in every way imaginable wasn't personal enough.

Christian watched her exit the building as he leaned against the car, his breath caught in his throat at the sheer beauty of her. It was a freezing night in late November but she'd worn a short dress and heels that he couldn't wait to have over his shoulders. Her approach to the car was shy and sweet, the smallest of smiles offered to him when she kissed his cheek before folding herself into the backseat.

"Ms. Steele, you look lovely." His words were as sincere as the smile stretched across his handsome face. Nine days without her company was far more than he was willing to experience again. Sitting next to her now, the soft scent of cinnamon and flowers floating off of her skin, strengthened his resolve to negotiate another night of each week with her.

She chanced a glance at him as Taylor drove, her mind fuzzy just by being in his presence. A full day of stressful work hadn't done a damn thing to lessen his appearance. If anything, the hint of a five o'clock shadow and the way his hair was all over the place just added to his magnetic sex appeal. Her mouth watered at the sight of him.

"Thank you, Sir. You look handsome as well."

"Tonight you will call me Christian while in the company of others." She nodded, the butterflies in her stomach flew with joy. "In private, I will still be Sir."

"Of course, Sir."

When they exited and were ushered to the short red carpet the few photographers there jumped to action when they saw who had arrived. Jose Rodriguez was small time, a nobody really but you never knew when a nobody became a somebody so the magazines and art collectors sent a few people to snap some pictures and record who showed up. To be able to photograph _The_ Christian Grey with a woman on his arm? Pay dirt.

"Mr. Grey! Are you a fan of Mr. Rodriguez's work?" Christian looked up then and took his place on the carpet motioning for Ana to join him. She was surprised, hesitant even.

_He wants to have is picture taken with me?_

"Mr. Grey will not be answering any questions," Taylor answered briskly before resuming his stoic stance by the door. Together they stood side by side, she with a bright smile, he with an expression that hinted at contempt for the media. Behind her his arm draped casually around her slender waist, his fingers lightly gripping onto the swell of her hip.

"Are you sure about this?" She whispered into his ear, her breath washing over him, filling him with desire so strong he had to swallow past it.

"Yes. Now come." He took her tiny hand in his, marveling at the size and smoothness of it against his palm and led her to the reception desk where a woman, no older than 21 stood with a clipboard and a frown.

"Good evening," he said to her. Instantly her mouth dropped, her fingers going limp around the pen. Ana fought the urge to snap the girls mouth shut and waved past her to Jose who was busy mingling with potential buyers.

"Ana!" He exclaimed, leaving his guests to rush to her. Her hand left Christians and wrapped around Jose's back to embrace him. "I'm so glad you came, you should see the response the photos of you are garnering." It was then that he noticed Christian and felt his arctic glare. He stuck his hand out, "Jose Rodriguez, thank you for coming."

"Christian Grey," he said coldly, his disdain evident. Ana felt the burn of embarrassment color her cheeks but Jose, ever the gentleman only smiled and offered them a drink.

"Wine. White." Jose looked at Ana but Christian gave her no chance to answer. "For both of us."

"I'll get it," Ana offered and walked towards the bar, humiliation fueling each step. The warm hand on her lower back was familiar, the regret instantaneous. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know he'd be so..._rude_."

"It's fine, Ana. It's hard for men to understand our relationship."

She turned, felt the intensity of Christian's eyes on her face but she looked only at Jose. "Why? Why is it so unbelievable that a man and a woman could be just friends?" He raised one hand in a 'who knows' manner and handed her the wine.

"Just have fun and know that I'm not upset. OK? This is my night, Ana and I'm just glad you're here." He left then to speak with a buyer, his reassurance enough to calm the staccato beat of her heart. Counting to twenty she picked up the glasses by their stems and walked to where Christian stood staring at her.

"If he touches you again like that, we're going to have a problem." She would have smacked him if she had a free hand. "His hand on your back? I won't tolerate disrespect, Ms. Steele. Am I clear?" She handed him the wine and walked away to the far corner of the room where the light didn't quite reach so that she could compose herself in private. He, of course, followed.

"We're leaving," he barked, reaching for her arm. She deftly moved it from his grasp.

"No, _you're_ leaving. I'm staying until the exhibit closes for the night. Jose is my friend, my oldest and one of my most dear friends. He has been nothing but good to me for five years, Christian. If you want to talk about disrespect, we should probably start with how you treated _my friend_ at _his_ event."

Never, in his entire life, had someone spoken to him like this. He wanted to rant and rave and punch something at the loss of control but he held himself in check, vaguely aware of his surroundings and the eyes watching them from around the room. His hand burned with the want to spank, his palm flexed with the want to hold a cane and hear it sail through the air before landing on the back of her thighs. She'd pay for this little fit. Dearly.

"How dare you speak to me like that. Do I need to remind you what you are to me?" The words cut deep, her sharp intake of breath proof that he'd hit his mark. Inside he felt the triumph of having put her in her place but just as soon as he'd felt the brief satisfaction of bringing her to heel she shocked the shit out of him again.

"I know who I am to you, _Sir_. I also know that this is my time, not contractual time and that if you think you're going to punish me for my time, then you will not be seeing me back at Escala again. I made that very clear in our contract, _Mr. Grey_. You and I do not share a total power exchange."

His head snapped back, her gut twisted. If he terminated their agreement, and technically, at this point he should, she would be crushed. But between the flare of rage in his eyes and the way he was gripping her bicep she was truly afraid of what a festering punishment would entail.

Confusion. He was utterly confused. _She'd leave me? She'd _leave_ me?_

No sub had ever left him, no one had even threatened it. His eyes darted back and forth between hers where he saw a calm resolve that spoke to a strength he'd not seen in her until this very minute. He had to admit, he'd underestimated Anastasia Steele. For a beat they stared each other down until his confusion gave way to panic.

_She can't leave me. Can't. If I don't have her…she just can't leave._

His fingers relaxed, his stance eased, his breath came out in a rush while his hand tugged at his copper tresses. "You're right. This is not contractual time and I am here as your guest." He wouldn't, _couldn't_ go so far as an apology but she'd take this half assed attempt at peace. She'd take anything from him right now so long as he didn't cut her loose or make a scene.

For a moment she remained silent, afraid that he would end their arrangement right then and there but when he said nothing her lips slowly turned up, the sweetness of her smile catching him off guard.

"Jose and I are just friends. He's had a girlfriend for three years and even if he hadn't, I'm not interested in him like that." Christian bit back his retort, resolved to somehow make her pay for this little show of bravado but then she touched his wrist and gave him another small smile, her blue eyes sparkling up at him with happiness. "There's something I want to show you." Her voice was small but hopeful, the lilt of it tugging at his heart strings.

_Heart?_ He almost laughed at the notion. This time she took his hand, the sharp edges of his anger smoothing out at the feel of her skin against his. Lust mixed dangerously with residual anger where it settled in his gut. She had one more hour and then he was fucking her. Hard.

As they made their way through the gallery he noticed the stares they elicited but he could tell they weren't all for him. Well, some were blatantly for him based on his face alone but most of the pauses and whispers were for the woman on his arm. She looked beautiful, that much was sure but the stares and wide eyed interest was almost reverent.

And then he saw why. In front of him against the back wall were huge black and white photos of Anastasia. _His Anastasia_. Laughing, pouting, thoughtful, flirty, surprised and day dreaming. Possession like he had never known flared within him, the heat of unfettered rage whipping through the deepest parts of his soul as he stared at the revelation in front of him.

Jose may not have ever slept with her, may not know the smell of her arousal or the taste of her desire. He had no idea what she looked like with a cock in her mouth or the way her breasts bounced but like a ton of bricks Christian Grey realized one thing. Jose Rodriguez knew Anastasia more intimately than he ever would. He, without ever showing her domination, without ever demanding anything of her had seen who she was. Not just what she did.

For the first time in years Christian Grey felt the pit of inadequacy. He may be the one currently fucking the woman on the wall and it may be his hand that hers rested in but there was no way he could deny that the girl he knew had kept herself from him because the glimpses he saw over their weekends together of that carefree smile? Suddenly they weren't enough. He wanted more than the occasional giggle, more than the easy smile that made his stomach flip, more than the unguarded moments when she didn't know he was watching.

Before another gawker could peer at the photos that so easily invited you in he marched to the front desk and ordered them taken down, packed up and shipped to his apartment. The young lady at the counter was startled by Christian's blunt demands and completely unprepared to handle a man as demonstrative as the one in front of her so Jose was called over, not at all surprised by Christian's reaction.

He knew who Christian Grey was in the business world, everyone in Seattle knew he was powerful but when Jose saw him with Ana tonight, he quickly put two and two together and came up with four. And maybe Jose didn't begrudge the unconventional lifestyle Mr. Grey chose to participate in and he would never use it against him or threaten him with exposure but he'd by lying if it didn't give him a bit of confidence when having to deal with the man.

So where others would have kowtowed to the great, indomitable force in front of them, Jose Rodriguez remained calm and friendly as he worked overtime to keep the smirk off of his face.

"The photos can be delivered to you three weeks from today when the show is closed but since they are part of the story, they must remain here until then."

"Bull shit. Take them down now, Mr. Rodriguez." Christian glanced around quickly to ensure that Ana couldn't see the heated exchange and then continued. "You know I'll pay double, _triple_ for them to be taken down right now. Just do it and name your price."

Jose almost laughed. "They're the same price today that they will be in three weeks when they're taken down. You can purchase them now or wait but they will remain up." And just to fuck a bit with him Jose tossed out the rest. "There has been quite a bit of interest in the collection as a whole so the gallery owner and myself have opted to sell the photos as a set instead of as individuals."

This close. Christian was this close to knocking this asshole out. He didn't doubt that photographs of someone as beautiful as Anastasia would generate interest but he knew exactly the game Mr. Rodriguez was playing. Too bad he was playing with Christian Grey and therefore had zero chance of winning. With the same resolve he applied to million dollar business deals he steeled himself for victory.

"Quadruple the price then. I don't give a fuck. Just take them down."

"Mr. Grey, I appreciate your determination. But I have a contract with the gallery owner and I have to abide by it." Jose held back the 'and you loving her doesn't change that fact'.

Two denials in one night? Two insolent conversations in the span of 15 minutes? He'd had enough.

"Point me to the owner." Jose did and walked away without another word. Let Carmella handle the asshole.

Twenty minutes later the oversized photos were being taken down and packaged up, the owner of the gallery $40k richer. She fanned herself with the extra wad of hundreds Christian had slipped her while she imagined that beautiful man loving her the way he so obviously loved that girl in the pictures.

In the car Ana was silent, her arms folded across her lap, her lip trapped between her teeth. She was embarrassed, flattered, turned on and totally, 100% confused. _Why does he care if people look at me? I don't even look that good in the pictures anyway._

"Are you angry with me, Ms. Steele?" His voice, smooth and thick like honey ran over her skin from nape to toes.

"No, Sir." They were alone again and therefore back to formalities. _Was_ she mad? Touched? Slightly afraid at his power and influence? She wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was right then.

"Good."

He contemplated his next move suddenly unsure of the game now that she had asserted herself so brazenly in public. Never before had a sub denied him her own time. It was a farce that a sub _had_ her own time in his opinion but Anastasia was too smart for the nuances of the contract he'd first presented her with and had kept to her word as far as keeping her life as a sub and a her life as a civilian separate. And while it angered him and frustrated him he had to admit that a small part of him found her obstinance admirable. Sexy even.

"I'd like for you to stay at my place tonight," he said carefully, taking a deep breath before he conceded to her. "I realize this is not a weekend but I would appreciate for you to give me a night this week since we missed so much time together last weekend."

She fought the urge to smile. He wasn't exactly asking but he wasn't demanding either and the truth was, she was dying to be alone with him.

"Will you bring tonight's argument into the playroom?"

"No."

"Are you angry at me?" She shifted, her leg touching his so that the blood flowed quickly south. _Angry?_ Hardly. He was furious; boiling, filled with a rage that would only be satisfied once he saw her ass red and her orgasm denied. So no, he wasn't angry. He was way past _angry._

"I'm not going to punish you if that's what you're worried about." _I'm just going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for three days._

"Then yes, I'll spend the night at Escala." She smiled at him, a big grin that lit her up from within and took the edge off of his fury.

In the elevator he pushed her against the wall and hoisted her up, her legs automatically locking behind his lower back. She registered the sound of tearing, knew it was her dress and didn't care so long as he kept kissing her like he was dying and she was the one who could save him.

Mindful to keep her hands on his neck she allowed him to carry her up the stairs and into the playroom where he tossed her on the bed and yanked her panties down to her ankles before stripping her of her dress, now ripped up the side.

"I'll buy you two more," he gruffly said when he saw her watch the pink fabric fly across the room. "Take off your bra and show me exactly what you did for me when I was on the phone with you."

Her mind was a muddy mess, discombobulated by the feel of his body pressed against hers so unguardedly in the elevator, the desire ripping through her with each heart beat but she knew what he meant. He was going to watch her touch herself and she would do what he demanded because he was her Dom but she wanted more of his heat. She wanted to be enveloped in it, drown in it, feel it all over her.

She stripped and climbed onto the bed, her breasts grazing the sheets, her knees far apart.

"Fuck yes," he said huskily behind her, his naked body only inches from hers while she touched herself for his viewing pleasure. "You make me crazy, do you know that?" With the flat of his left hand he stroked over her back while he stroked himself. "Over a week, Anastasia. Over a week of thinking about your tight pussy. Do you know how many times I pleasured myself while I thought of you?" His hand landed with a smack on the flesh of her ass. She groaned, wetness coating her fingers.

It was too much to have her so close and not be inside her. Gripping her hips in each hand he yanked her to the edge of the bed and pulled her legs apart further. With a ragged hiss he pressed into her until he was balls deep, her sheath coating him in pure, unadulterated pleasure unlike anything he'd ever had with anyone else.

She was made for him. The way the curve of her ass fit against his groin, the way her petite frame could withstand the aggression of his thrusts but still maintain it's femininity. Her shoulders, the perfect distance from his torso so that he could hold her there, the endearing way her feet curled around to the back of his knees when he took her in this position.

"Hands around my neck," he growled, lifting her up so that he could fuck her from behind while holding her breasts, pinching her nipples harshly between his fingers.

_Fuck, so good. So fucking unbelievably good._

God she loved the feel of him so strong and masculine behind her. Nobody had ever made her feel quite so safe, quite so wanted, quite so _womanly_. "Sir…please can I cum?"

"No!" He shouted, lost in the pleasure, wanting nothing more than to extend it. She gasped and whimpered. "Pull my hair," he commanded, her fingers immediately weaving into his thick locks where she twisted them, holding on to him for dear life as he pummeled her body.

"Fuck yes! Now, you can cum for me, Anastasia." When she gripped him harder with her fingers and her sex tightened around his cock he lost his mind. Felt his insides churn and twist, felt her body rain down on him, the wet heat sliding over his shaft, his tightened balls and then to the sheet below. When he came he called her name, the sound of it during his climax new and unexpected.

Even breaths took over for moans of pleasure, sated limbs took over for tense muscles. Confusion took over for passion.

He had said her name. And he had called her Ana.

* * *

Taylor drove her home after Christian had tied her to the table and fucked her once more. Her hands had been bound as they almost always were when they were face to face and though in the past he had always blindfolded his subs so that they couldn't see him, he had found himself in a conundrum of sorts. Protocol called for her eyes to be covered but what he wanted was to see her and be seen by her. So after a few harsh thrusts he had flicked the black cloth off of her, the sight of those blue orbs propelling him towards a climax he wasn't ready for.

"I want to see you," he'd said between pumps of his hips and licks of his tongue over hers. At the end, when she was lost in the haze of her pending orgasm she thought she heard him say 'Mine' but then he'd pinched her clit and the only thing she heard was the sound of her own chants of 'Yes, yes, yes'.

He'd told her she could stay, showed her that her room was ready for her if she wanted it and then had called Taylor when she had refused citing her early training session with Bastille. He could have argued with her and told her that Bastille would meet her anywhere he told him to but after the long day and the even longer night he knew his nightmares would return and after the embarrassment of her hearing him last week, he was almost glad to see her go.

Less than a mile apart they lie in their respective beds, bodies satisfied and relaxed for the moment, minds on overdrive. She wondered if this is how Dominick's infatuation had started with her. Had it happened slowly or had he felt something for her from the beginning?

_Is this what Christian's other subs, the ones who had fallen in love with him felt?_ Had they struggled to keep their hearts separate from their bodies as she was doing? How do you give your body to a man over and over and not give away a piece of your soul as well? How do you let a man tie you up and trust him with your life but not your heart?

She saw the way the women looked at him tonight, knew he'd be able to bring any one of them to his bed. How does one compete with that? How do you keep a man tethered to you who sees your position in his life as dispensable?

She snorted. _If those women knew what was between his legs and how competent he was in putting that tool to good use, I'd have a real problem on my hands._ _No wonder his previous submissives had fallen for him._

When a man can make you feel protected, fuck you into oblivion and offer to meet your needs, you don't stand a chance. Forget that he was insanely good looking and well hung. Her hand drifted between her legs to press against the lingering soreness she always had after a good session with him.

_Had they all felt this way?_ Those women he'd so quickly tossed aside once they had expressed an interest in something more with him? Had they lain in bed comparing themselves to the others before them? Had they secretly hoped to be the one to change him? To get to the man inside the Dom?

Had they been so different from her? She suspected that they had not. In some unspoken way she knew he liked her and enjoyed her company but he had been crystal clear that he was in no way looking for, or willing to participate in, a romantic relationship. And she, so unwilling to allow anyone to hurt her or break her trust again had said the same.

_Double down on boundaries, that's what I need to do_. Pull back on the emotions that so easily flooded her when she thought of him. Gritting her teeth with determination she decided that she would not, in fact, become like the others. But even as she thought it, even as her resolve burned white hot she wondered what it was he was doing and if he were thinking of her. On a groan she turned her face into the plush pillow and thought how much better this bed would feel if Christian were here with her.

He wasn't faring any better as far as sleep went.

_What the fuck had that been about at the gallery?_

His mind was still reeling by her dismissal of his authority and the way she had enforced the terms of their agreement. He'd wanted nothing more than to punish her, harshly, for that little bit of defiance but she had stood her ground and used his own contract against him. He snorted, if there was one thing he respected, it was a contract. Even if it was being used to her advantage.

But the disrespect he'd felt had begun to fester and when she'd been tied to that table he'd called on every ounce of his training to hold back from punishing her. The truth was, he'd been so desperate to get her alone and naked, so anxious to bury himself between her thighs that she could have gotten away with pretty much anything at that point.

Once he'd emptied his balls and had his fill of her the anger had returned but he'd promised not to punish her and he was a man who kept his promise. But then she'd left and he realized, standing in his bathroom to brush his teeth before bed that he, in fact, had _not_ gotten his fill of his little sub. And lying in this bed, moonlight flanking the sides of his wall to wall windows, he knew he never would.

Rolling to his back in the massive driftwood bed he spread out his arms as far as they would go. His hands brushed against cool Egyptian cotton and nothing else. He was a man on an island. Alone. Isolated. _Lonely_. And for the first time ever, he felt it all.

A strange pit opened in his gut then, the empty feeling filling with a sudden surge of jealousy that messed with his already confused mind. What in the _hell _had happened at the gallery? How had he lost control of not only himself but the situation? $40k for photo's he could have paid a fourth of that for or better yet, could have taken himself?

_Dumbass, _he chastised himself. _You need to sort your shit out and now._

But just as the first flare of embarrassed regret settled on his skin he visualized one of those pictures hanging in the bedroom of another man and his jealousy took over. How many men were thinking of her tonight while they jerked off or fucked their wives and girlfriends? How many men watched her leave with him and cursed under their breath? How many had wanted one of those pictures for their own selfish reasons? Who had shown interest in buying them? Her previous Dominant? The ex-boyfriend or a new threat entirely?

Had she cum so easily with her seven other lovers? Had they enjoyed the sight of her climax as much as he did? Had they sat and talked with her, happy to listen to whatever came out of her mouth? Had they known that her left breast was more sensitive than her right or that she liked her tea weak and extra hot? Did they know she hummed low in her throat when she was giving head or that she had an unhealthy obsession Emily Bronte? Was she as sweet on their tongues as she was on his?

_Fuck! __Get a grip! You sound like an idiot._

He hadn't ever really liked someone romantically before. Sure he'd felt emotions for Elena but he was a kid then. And he had felt affection for each of his subs at one point or another, some he would go so far as to say he had cared for but never had he felt jealousy or the rampant desire to be with someone the way he did with Anastasia. It was unsettling, this possessive obsession that had begun without his bidding.

_I mean, they're just pictures of the woman I'm currently fucking. _But even he couldn't break down their relationship that easily.

_Fuck it,_ he thought. She was his and therefore her images were his as well. He didn't share. Didn't like it, never had, never would and her being ogled by men and women alike was as close to sharing as he'd ever come and even then he'd control it if he could. Tonight he had been able to. It was much easier to chalk up the swelling affection and jealousy in his chest to that type of reasoning instead of facing what was really happening between them.

And the flutter he got when he knew he'd see her or the stupid grin he had when she smiled back at him? Well she was fun and smart and cute as hell. Of course he'd enjoyed her company. That's all this was.

_Emotions, _he scoffed._ Fuck that shit._

* * *

The press had been merciless in their pursuit to figure out who the mystery brunette was on the arm of Christian Grey. By the next morning they had a name, an age, a profession and a statement from GEH.

"No comment," was all that had been offered and even that had been surprising since Grey had a reputation for flat out ignoring media requests of any kind.

That morning Kate woke Ana up, laptop in hand to show her the home page of the Seattle Nooz. "Wow, Ana, you look amazing and he's…well he's fucking gorgeous! Shit, if I had known the guys in that lifestyle looked like that, I'd have tried it out myself. I mean, Dominick was hot and all but this one, damn, he's in an entirely different stratosphere altogether."

It was strange to see her own picture on the internet, this small town girl turned music teacher on display for all to see and wonder about. She wanted so badly to talk to Kate about the churning emotions she couldn't seem to figure out but she was bound by the NDA she'd signed. The fact that she'd told Christian that Kate and Jose would figure out what he was once seen with her didn't negate the fact that she still couldn't talk about him.

So Ana Steele, humble to a fault just waved her hand and pulled the covers up tighter. "Jose asked where you were. You should have been there, Kate, it was opening night." Kate flopped back on the bed, one hand over her eyes and exhaled.

"I know but I had a deadline looming. Had I known you were going to bring _him_ I would have cared far less about my article." She sat up and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. "So is he…he's your Dom or whatever it is you call it? Right?"

"I can't talk about any of that, Kate." Heat spread over her skin, the blush telling Kate all she needed to know.

"Oh my god you like him, Ana! That's great! That's awesome actually." Kate stood and cracked open the window to allow the freezing air to come in. "I want to meet him."

Ana flew out of bed, hair in disarray, pajama's twisted around her. "No! You absolutely cannot meet him and if, by chance you ever did, you can never, _ever_ let on that you know anything about him. I realize that outing him could be big for your career and all but Kate, you can't even think about it." She pulled her own hair up, relieved when her best friend rolled her eyes at the suggestion that she'd sell her out just for a story. "And I like him enough to sleep with him but that's where it ends."

"Oh that's crap and you know it. And he must like you if was willing to be seen with you. Do you know how busy a man like Christian Grey is and yet he took an entire evening out of his schedule to spend it at an art show that was showcasing essentially a nobody? Not to mention the fact that in all of his 29 years he has yet to be photographed with anyone. Rumor was he's gay but now I know he's just…not." Her blue eyes twinkled. "Seems Seattle's Most Eligible Bachelor six years running has one helluva secret."

"How do you know all of this about him?" Kate laughed at the absurdity of the question.

"Because _everyone_ knows who he is, Ana. He owns a good portion of the commerce in Washington plus he's single and insanely hot. I swear, sometimes that musician brain of yours misses out the life around you."

It was true she guessed. She wasn't typical for someone her age, that much she knew. You'd never find her watching television if she could read a book instead and the extent of her celebrity interests had always centered around musicians but it made sense now, the way he'd introduced himself as if she should have known who he was. At the time she'd found his arrogance comical but now she could admit that he'd earned a certain amount of respect. If she had any doubts that Christian Grey needed to keep his secrets they vanished after seeing the way the media went crazy at him being seen in public with a woman.

Which just brought her around full circle. Why had he risked it?

* * *

Andrea placed a fresh cup of coffee on the corner of his desk along with printed copies of each paper that had printed their picture from the gallery.

"Thank you," were his gruff words before he flipped to the photo in each one, a smile creasing his otherwise serious face each time he found it.

_**'Christian Grey escorts Anastasia Steele to the Bouvard Gallery opening last night'**_  
_**'Seattle's new 'It' Couple?'**_  
_**'Has someone finally managed to snag the stag?'**_  
_**'Beautiful mystery woman photographed with Grey at arts event in Seattle'**_

_Fuckers_. Idly he wondered if the men who had carnally known her had read these yet. And there it was again, that consuming feeling of jealousy that overtook him each time he thought about those seven men. Who were they to her? Faceless experiences like his subs were to him or did she think of them with fondness? Would they want her back now that she had been seen in his company?

"Andrea, call Sandra Stone. Tell her I need her to contact Anastasia Steele, have her schedule a lunch today so that she can walk her through dealing with the media." The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off because of the attention she'd be getting.

_Shit,_ he thought. _I should have prepared her for this more._ But he hadn't really thought of it because he had been so amped up just to _be_ with her. It was a fools mistake and one she would suffer for unless he could do some swift damage control.

He'd already ignored an inordinate amount of calls from his family, his brother specifically and much to his surprise, his grandmother had even called but his exposure was one of the few things he wasn't concerned about. Maybe it was the overwhelming drive to have the world know that Ana was his, maybe it was because he knew those seven other men would know she was his now.

He hit the intercom again before he could think twice about it.

"Andrea, get me an appointment with John Flynn later today too. And Bastille." He clicked off before she could respond and dialed his security captain.

"Welch, I need a more in depth background check on Ms. Steele and I need someone sent to her office to escort her wherever she needs to go. Upgrade her alarm system over there and have one installed in her apartment as well, Andrea will get you the address."

The head of security for Grey Holdings had been expecting this call. He had been as shocked as everyone else when his wife showed him the picture this morning so he'd dutifully come in early, had assigned one of his guys to stand outside of her office and had already begun to dig a bit deeper.

"I'm on it, Sir."

"And? What have you found out?" Welch bit his cheek to keep from blurting out his sarcastic retort.

"So far nothing, Mr. Grey." He didn't need to ask what it was his boss was actually looking for. He had her personal information down to the balances in her bank account. What the man was looking for were answers Welch wasn't going to find from the standard background check so he'd dispatched his best undercover to start asking questions at the club Grey had met the woman in and the town she'd been raised in.

Oh, yeah, Welch knew all about his bosses lifestyle. Knew the names and social security numbers of every woman he'd contracted, knew the names and faces of every woman he'd fucked at the numerous clubs he'd frequented over the years. But what Christian wanted wasn't going to come easily. The old man chuckled and hung up the phone, looking out the window with every expectation to see pigs flying by.

_I'll be damned. _He thought._ The boss has fallen in love._


	7. Chapter 7

Christian had sent flowers to apologize for the few paparazzi that he knew were now hounding her and then had invited her to come over to his office later in the week for lunch. She had declined of course, much to his consternation. The entire thing confused the shit out of him. No woman had ever said no to an invitation from him. If he'd asked one of them to come to his office for lunch, which of course he never had, they'd have shown up eagerly and would have been grateful as fuck for the opportunity to be with him. But not this one, not his newest little sub.

Because Ana knew that if she had any chance of protecting her heart, then she was going to have to continually remind herself that his affection was a fallacy. Nothing more than a good Dominant taking care of his submissive no matter how different this _thing_ between them felt. She had no way of knowing the extent to which he'd closed himself off before her and subsequently the lengths at which he'd gone to be in her company. How was she to know that the concessions he'd granted her were larger than the ones he'd given his own family.

But the way her hands tingled and her heart pounded every time she saw his name on her phone or her email scared her. Love, emotions, that stuff was too messy and painful and knowing what she knew of Christian Grey and his hard line on romantic feelings, she wasn't about to hand him her heart so that he could damage it. She'd learned the hard way a long time ago that when someone had your heart, the very center of your being, then they had all the power. And so far in her life, handing her power over hadn't worked out so well.

Kate had helped to sneak her out the back of the apartment but Ana had seen a few photographers camped out front through the curtains. There were a few more outside of her studio building but she did what Kate said and put her head down when she walked by them, ignoring their questions and locking the door behind her. Why would they care about who she was? She knew they'd dig but she also knew they'd find very little. Her relationships, outside of Paul Clayton weren't public knowledge and her father Ray, coupled with the insiders he knew from his illustrious military career had ensured that nothing about her early life was ever made public.

Determined to live her life without fear she dove into work head first and caught up on her bookkeeping and the minutia that came with being a small business owner. In between students she cleaned the studio and worked on the songs she was writing. Anything to keep her mind from asking the question that kept circulating in her head.

_Why would he risk this type of exposure?_

Christian left a message to again apologize for the press, claiming that his spur of the moment decision to escort her last night was now causing her undue stress. '_You will need to be prepared and protected'_ he'd said on is voice mail before telling her his bullet point plan on how to achieve that.

His PR director brought over lunch at one and conferenced Christian in so that together they could come up with a cohesive way to deal with the attention now raining down on them. He was gracious but businesslike on the call, his no nonsense attitude used to it's full advantage as he and Sandra pulled together a list of protocols and procedures. Ana sat quietly and let them hash it out, unsure of why this was all becoming such a big deal. A little voice of doubt tapped at her thoughts,_ 'You're supposed to be an outlet for this man. A source of peace and pleasure. But now you're causing problems and stress.'_

He called that night like he did every night to check in with her but this time instead of the obligatory conversation he steered the topic towards security and how there was a need for her to now be protected. At first she didn't understand what he was talking about but when he mentioned the words, 'bodyguard' and 'protection officer' she just about passed out. I mean, sure, there had been a few interested paparazzi but really, wouldn't they just get bored and move on quickly anyway? And were they really a threat to her safety?

While he spoke brusquely about security parameters and appropriate demeanors, she chewed her bottom lip in thought. Maybe this would be a good time to ask to speak to a former submissive of his, someone who could help her to navigate this better. She'd been foolish not to get references from him at the beginning anyway, her demanding libido causing her to bypass her own rules in order to rush along their first interaction.

"What do I need protection from, Mr. Grey?" She asked when he'd finished his monologue.

For a moment he contemplated not answering. Surely she wasn't questioning his judgment or his orders? But then she sneezed and the daintiness of it made him smile and hold back a laugh. Was everything she did adorable?

"God bless you, Anastasia. I do hope you're not getting sick."

"Oh no, I was just trimming the flowers you sent. I'm allergic to lilies." He made a mental note never to order them again. "They're so beautiful though that I just couldn't resist splitting the arrangement up so that I could have it in the living room and in my bedroom. Thank you, Sir, they're lovely."

He smiled again and leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet onto the desk before linking his fingers behind his head.

"You're welcome, I'm glad that you like them so much." For a few seconds the silence ticked by while he lost himself in the image of her tenderly touching the flowers he'd sent her.

"My protection, Sir?"

Right. _The game, Grey. Get in it._ "You need shielding from the media for one. Then there are zealous fans who think that getting close to you means getting close to me. You also become a valuable asset to anyone who wants to blackmail me." Her brow knit while she thought about that for a bit. "Are you biting your lip, Ms. Steele?" She giggled, he sat up straight at the sound and pushed at his groin, now coming to life.

"How did you know?"

_Because I picture you a thousand times a day and watch you with obsessive regularity when you're with me. Because I know your ticks, your tells, your mannerisms. Because everything you do is fascinating and I've mentally recorded it all._

"Lucky guess," was all he said.

"I was thinking," she said softly, his dick tingling at the breathiness of her voice, "maybe I could talk to one of your ex-submissives? Maybe they can help me with this whole attention from the media thing?" His dick deflated at the thought. "I mean, I'll do what Sandra said too but maybe it would just be easier to talk to someone who's been through this."

"If that's your agenda, then it would be pointless, Anastasia. None of them were ever photographed with me or even seen with me. As far as the media is concerned, they don't exist. If you need help, I have an entire team at GEH that deals with this shit. I'll have Virginia Miller call you in the morning and set up a time for you to come to Grey House to speak with her. She'll ensure you're legally covered and teach you the legal ways in which you can protect yourself. While you're here, we can do lunch." Fuck that he'd already tried to get her there for lunch that week, he wanted to lay her out on this desk.

"Mr. Grey, Sir, Fridays through Sundays." His eyes rolled, a flame of anger searing his gut. Why did she have to be so damn rigid and frustrating with her time?

"Then come on Friday for fucks sake." They were both silent, she trying to protect her heart, he trying to figure his out. "Tell me something, Ms. Steele. Your last Dom, did you see him during the week?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes. He travelled often and therefore we didn't have a set schedule outlined in our contract like you and I do." The flame grew hotter.

"So you went to him whenever he requested it of you?"

"When he wasn't travelling, which he did more often than not, yes. If I was available, I went to him." The flame blew up, the idea that this other man had been granted access to her in a way he had not burning a hole into that carefully constructed control.

"In six weeks we renew our agreement," he said menacingly. "Just weekends isn't working for me. Keep that in mind. Goodnight, Ms. Steele." And with that, the phone went dead.

She couldn't explain to him that her being so accessible to Dominick had been part of the reason she thinks he had fallen in love with her. He began to view her as a girlfriend, someone to grab take out with and watch a movie next to on a Tuesday night. But if she told him that, she'd expose herself because being accessible to Christian may not have been a problem for _him_, but it sure as hell was for _her_.

But he had no way of knowing that so instead he did what he always did when he was ready to pitch a fit. He called Bastille, told him to be at the GEH gym in 30 minutes and then furiously jacked off in the bathroom of his office. It pissed him off that no matter what scenario he used as fantasy, it was her face he saw and her body he envisioned when he came.

* * *

By Friday the press had backed off just as Kate predicted they would. _'Give them nothing'_ she'd encouraged and nothing was all they got. Ana had gone out to dinner with friends on Wednesday night and then attended her twice weekly Pilates session on Thursday without so much as acknowledging the cameras existence. Boring. Mundane. Moving on. It wasn't like he was a celebrity. Just an insanely rich, insanely handsome, insanely private man.

She'd met with Virginia Miller but she'd done so at her office so that she could squeeze the attorney's visit in between students. Christian had been pissed off and had seen it as a personal affront even though it really was just about time constraints. So when Ana arrived at Escala that evening it was Gail that greeted her and not Taylor or Christian as was the norm. Swallowing back her disappointment she followed the pretty blond into the kitchen and helped her finish dinner, a small bubble of fear at his missing reception growing in her gut.

As she chopped the dill they'd use as a garnish for the salmon she couldn't help but watch the woman who knew all of Christian's secrets. Over the weeks the two women had developed something of a friendly rapport but Ana hadn't been with her long enough to engage in a real conversation until tonight.

"How long have you worked for Mr. Grey, Mrs. Taylor?"

"Oh, about six years now. Since he moved into this apartment. I think he had someone before me but they didn't work out." She winked and rinsed her hands, uncorking a sancerre that she handed to Ana to taste and approve. There were so many things she wanted to know, so many questions she wanted to ask now that she had Gail to herself.

She sipped, the irrational jealousy flashing through her that Gail had met the other women who had come to learn the carnal pleasures of Christian Grey. She'd not thought of them as individuals before, just as 'the others'. Were they prettier than her? Smarter? More adventurous? At that she scoffed and choked a bit.

_Of course they were more adventurous, my hard limits are longer than any sub I've ever met before._

Once preparations were finished the women chatted about the events of the week while Gail cleaned up and Ana sat at the breakfast bar, one heel dangling from her foot to alleviate the soreness brought on by the end of the day. She felt him before she saw him, the hairs on her arms responding to the electric charge that she always felt when he was around but she didn't look over to the entryway. Instead she waited, unsure of what was expected of her right now.

_Peace_. It's the only word that came to mind when he rounded the corner to see Ana sitting at the breakfast bar. She belonged here more than anyone else did. The entire place felt warmer, more welcoming, less empty when she was there.

"Good evening, Ms. Steele," he greeted her with a kiss to her cheek which she returned, eyes downcast. Shyly she looked up and smiled at him, the blue of her eyes forcing the air in his lungs to burn. _So beautiful._ Without taking his eyes off of hers he dismissed his house manager gently. "Gail, thank you. I'll see you on Sunday evening."

"Have a good weekend, Mr. Grey, Ms. Steele." When she was gone he exhaled and turned the long haired brunette towards him, stepping between her legs clad in jeans that fit her like a second skin.

"Hi," he breathed on her neck, his hand slipping into her hair to pull her face towards his. It was so…sweet. So intimate. The greeting of one lover to another.

"Hello," she whispered back, suddenly a ball of nerves. This felt an awful lot like romance. His hands pulled her hips towards him so that she could feel his hard on as he kissed her, ending the moment with a nip to her lower lip.

"I had a business emergency. A ship of mine in the Sea of Yemen ran aground a sand bar." _What the hell? I'm now apologizing to her for being late?_

"It's ok," she offered. He didn't owe her an explanation and while she wouldn't classify that as an apology, he'd at least shown that he valued her time. He stepped back and took her hand, leading her to the set table so that they could eat. It was new, eating before sex on a Friday night but he'd been late and she was starving so she didn't make mention of it.

"So this was quite the week for you and I." He grinned conspiratorially and lifted a forkful of salmon and rice to his mouth. She giggled and nodded. "Your other Doms," he started, unfolding the napkin over his lap and surprising the shit out of her, "Did they ever go out places with you?" She coughed and sipped her wine until she was able to compose herself.

_Not this again. Why does he care so much about my other Dominants?_

"Yes. Not all of them though. Two were short term, one month or so each so our time was limited." He cared less about them than the one who had loved her. Inside he seethed as he thought of him. He probably _still_ loved her.

"And your long term Dom? You went out with him? What was his name again?" She smirked and poured him more wine.

"NDA, Mr. Grey. Yes, we went out occasionally."

"So he was a nobody then?" The bitter victory in his voice did nothing to quell the immediate anger she felt at his callous remark. She'd love nothing more than to tell him that Dominick Westin had been a multi-millionaire and smart as hell. She'd love to tell the smug man across from her that Dominick was in his early 30's and a good looking man in his own right. The words formed on her tongue to tell him that her previous Dom had done more for the health of underprivileged children than any man she'd ever known and was a hero in her opinion but she did nothing of the sort. Instead she chewed her dinner and sat on her hand so as not to slap him.

"I'd hardly call him a nobody," was all she offered, his ire growing at her ability to keep the man's name a secret.

"I ask because I had someone try to find other pictures of you on the web to ensure that you weren't being linked to BDSM." He sat back, completely unaware of the disgust she felt for him right then. "If he had been important, someone would have taken his picture and you would have been in it at some point if you went out together."

She bit her cheek so that she didn't blurt out that Dominick Westin, _Doctor_ Dominick Westin was the leading pediatric thoracic surgeon in the United States and had saved countless lives. But the press doesn't care about that. There was no mystery to a man who flew around the world preforming lifesaving surgeries on kids who couldn't pay for it. There's no mystery to a man who smiles freely, loves generously and does his best to bring goodness to humanity.

"Your definition of important and mine are different then, Mr. Grey." The words were said quietly but their meaning was clear and vicious.

"Do you think _I'm_ important, Ms. Steele?" he sneered. She'd hurt him, the bile rising as she realized just how dangerous the ground she was standing on was. Carefully she chose her words, deciding that the simplest answer was the only answer.

"Of course." He was pleased but not convinced. What he _was_, was hurt and hurt made him feel out of control.

"Are you finished eating?" She nodded. Pushing his chair back a few inches he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. "On your knees then. Show me how important I am." With effort she smiled and gracefully went to him, taking his semi-hard dick into her mouth.

He continued to eat while she blew him under the table, the humiliation meant to remind her that he was in charge and therefore, he was the most important. When he came a few minutes later, his head back, plate empty she swallowed the thick fluid and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

In that moment, she hated him. Hated his arrogance, hated his authority, hated that she had agreed to give herself to him. If his intent had been to make her forget her previous Dom, he had failed miserably because right then, all she wanted was to be out of the company of one Christian Grey and within the safe walls of Doctor Westin.

* * *

Three hours later he watched her from the bed as she cleaned the rubber cock ring and ben-wah balls. It had taken considerable effort to bring her to climax and even then she had seemed a bit distant. The part of him that felt remorseful by his behavior at dinner was hushed by the Dom in him. She had needed to be reminded that she was with him now and that he was the only one she should think of as important. Had he ever been so spiteful with a previous submissive because she'd had other lovers? No, of course not. He hadn't given a shit, hadn't even thought to care.

She came out of the bathroom then and placed the toys back in their drawer turning to him, eyes downcast, hair still braided and waited for his instruction. His heart felt pained at her distance. She limited their time together so much already, the last thing he wanted was to have her body present but not her mind.

"Ana," he said gently, surprising her by the use of her nickname, "are you tired?"

"Yes, Sir." _So tired._ Mentally. Emotionally. And after an intense session with Christian, physically.

He stood then, naked as the day he was born and carried her to her room as he often did. Without a word he turned on the water and then leaned back as he observed her wash. His cock hardened again while he watched her shower, the suds erotically sliding down the slope of her breast, the swell of her hips, the length of her thigh. He wanted her again, right here in the submissive bathroom but she had mentally checked out. She had been so happy when he'd arrived home but everything between them shifted the second he had her get on her knees at dinner.

Shame. He felt it as hot as the water that sluiced down her alabaster skin. He'd punished her for having men before him. He'd used his position with her to humiliate and minimize her.

"Ana," he said carefully as he dried her and brushed out her long hair. "You make me happy. I realize that as your Dom I haven't told you that so I wanted you to know that our time together has thus far been pleasing to me."

She gave him a sad smile and pulled her hair into a bun. She could feel his uncertainty, was sure it was because of the way she'd pulled back from him but still he couldn't apologize. His pride made her sick.

She said nothing as she pulled on her yoga pants and long sleeve t-shirt. When he lifted the covers for her to slide between them his brows knit as he debated climbing in with her but then his mind cleared and he tucked the down comforter around her. Had it been guilt that had him wanting to hold her? Or was it the need to reconnect with her, to get back to where he wanted to be with her?

He sat there in the dark of her room and waited until she had drifted off, her tiny frame hidden beneath the layers of down and cotton. Her lashes were so long, fanned against her cheeks and before he could stop himself he'd reached down and touched their shadows.

In her sleep she turned away.

* * *

Heart pounding, body tingling with fear she awoke with a start to the sound of his anguished cries. This time she beat Taylor to the door and flung it open, stopping dead at the sight of a grown man thrashing on a bed, muscles tense and glistening with sweat.

"Out!" Taylor yelled at her as he pushed past her. "Christian!" the man yelled from the foot of the bed, "Christian! Christian it's Jason!" At that the movements calmed, the man sat up and looked around, eyes wild and confused until they found hers. He flung the sheets back and flew to the door, his gaze never breaking from hers until the door slammed in her face.

The rejection was absolute.

A few seconds later Taylor came out and gently took her arm steering her towards the kitchen where he stopped and faced her. "He doesn't want you to see him like that; weak and afraid." She nodded numbly but the pain was sharp. "Ana, listen to me." Her face snapped to his at the use of her first name. "Mr. Grey is a troubled man. He is also a good man even though he doesn't see that."

Gail was there handing him a glass of water which he drank while his breathing returned to normal. "Go upstairs, get some rest and make no mention of this in the morning." He turned then, striding to the door that housed their home. It was only then that she noticed that he was in nothing but boxer shorts.

"Ana," Gail said softly, "I know it's hard to see him like that or to feel helpless when this happens but you need to learn to not take it personally. Jason is right, Mr. Grey is a good man and since you've come along, he's never been happier." That made her blink. _Really? _"I know that seems implausible after what you've just seen but trust me, there is a light in his life I have never been witness to until now."

Silently the two women stood at the counter until that feeling came over her again, an electric current that ran from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. She knew he was in the room, felt him like a blanket around her. Gail patted Ana's hand and then turned and left leaving the two of them alone.

"I'm sorry I went into your bedroom. I wasn't trying to invade your privacy...I was worried and reacted without thinking..." She paused and swallowed the ball of emotion clogging her throat. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked in a small voice, her back still to him. Tears were threatening to spill over. For him, for her, for what was happening between them...she didn't know.

"Leave?" the thought made his stomach drop. "No, I don't want you to leave."

_Calm, stay calm, Grey._

"Do you _want_ to go, Ana?" Surely she wouldn't want a Dom who had nightmares like a child. She turned then and went to him, taking in the wrinkled pajama pants, the wild hair, the sweat sheened skin of his chest. How badly did she want to touch him over his heart? Soothe him with her touch? How badly did he want her to? He asked again, the fear of her absence as raw as the fear that inhabited his nightmares. "Do you want to leave?"

"No, I don't." Relief flooded through him, his head bowing slightly at the weight lifted from his shoulders.

"Come, I'll put you back in your bed." He turned towards the stairs but she remained still. "Ana?"

"I...I don't want to go back to bed."

"What do you want to do then?" He asked because he was at a total loss. This was a completely new experience for him. Christian Grey was a man without a paddle still fighting the fog of a dream he couldn't shake off.

She thought for only a second. "I want to watch you play the piano," she answered with confidence. He smiled and kissed her, firm and wholly on the mouth, his hands holding hers at her side on instinct.

_She had remembered. _Her kindness touched him, stirred something deep in his psyche that threatened to break him but instead fortified him.

She made them tea and sat next to him while he played every contemporary song he knew in the hopes that she would sing but her mouth remained shut. He wanted to hear her sing more in that moment than anything he'd ever wanted before. It was the offering of her soul that he wanted and her soul was in the songs she wrote in her blue notebook she had so carefully kept hidden from him.

"Sing for me," he prodded after awhile.

She hesitated, the heat of a blush creeping up her neck as she sat there looking at him. To sing for him, to open herself to him like that was so intimate. So...loving.

"Are you telling me or asking me?"

He could have demanded it of her, it was after all a weekend but he wanted her to _choose_ to sing for him. He wanted her to offer herself to him, not give to him because she had to. He wanted the Ana that was in the photo's that now hung on his bedroom wall.

"Asking." His hands were still over the keys, his eyes fixed on hers in the dim light of the room. He needed her then. Not wanted, not desired. _Needed_. He held his breath in the hope that she wouldn't feel his desperation.

"Just a quick one then," she said, the pink of her blush a sight to behold as it swept over her cheeks. With a bit of a shooing motion that had him smiling she moved him over and put her tiny hands over the white keys, her eyes closed as she began a song that would from that day on haunt him and soothe him.

With her eyes closed she played the sweet, gentle melody to 'Baby Mine', her voice strong and pure and soothing. Next to her he sat stunned, the façade of Christian Grey slipping away as he watched her lips move and felt the gentleness of the words wash over him. Inside that space she'd touched just an hour ago something new shifted, took root, and began to grow.

She had sung him a lullaby. Sweet simple words sung to soothe and comfort, to console and protect, to ease and love. A lullaby.

And it had slayed him.

Before she hit the last note he knew that that place he'd so carefully protected, that part of him he'd denied had even existed would forever long for her. Somehow, with her quiet unassuming way and her anything but submissive attitude she had worked her way under his skin and past defenses that nobody had even come close to scaling. Years of boundaries, years of training, years of total control and she had ghosted through it all.

He sat transfixed, blown away, speechless at the riot of feelings she conjured up in him in that short three minute song. In profile she was beautiful, the moonlight casting her in a soft glow that gave her the ethereal look of an angel.

_Is that what she is? An angel? My angle? Salvation in the female form?_

For a moment they sat in silence, the emotions heavy between them, the only sound that of the whipping wind outside of the windows. He spoke first, his voice cracking until he quietly cleared his throat.

"You sing beautifully. That was beautiful." He pushed a stand of hair behind her ear. "_You_ are beautiful." She smiled up at him and slid back to the side of the bench so that he could resume his playing but instead he stood, offering her his outstretched hand.

"Thank you," she said as she took it. "Believe it or not I hate preforming in front of people."

His brows knit in confusion. "You do? Why?"

"Insecure I guess," she shrugged. "I don't feel I'm good enough."

He snorted. "If that was any indication of what you're capable of, you should be preforming all over the world, Ana. That was truly fantastic."

"It's a phobia of mine. I want to preform one night...at a small venue or something...just to say I did it and get over my fear but I haven't gotten brave enough for that yet." She shrugged. "Maybe one day."

He'd make sure of it. If it was a dream of hers, he'd make it happen.

She yawned and stretched, her youth showcased in the innocence that still painted her face. He stood spellbound and took her in terrified of whatever it was he was feeling, turned on by the sight of her lithe body, protective over the softness that was her heart, appreciative of the gift she'd just given him.

It confused the shit out of him.

"Come, I'll tuck you back in." His voice jarred her, the gentleness he'd just shown suddenly replaced by the authoritative boom of his dominant persona.

Shifting into the role he was most comfortable in he took her hand and walked her back up the stairs and settled her into the bed. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," he explained when she felt the mattress dip behind her and his arm slide under her neck as he pulled her back flush against his chest.

His body molded to hers with ease, the comfortable and affectionate position in direct contrast to what their arrangement really was but for tonight he'd push that aside. She had seen him at his worst and had walked him through it without saying a single thing about it. He should have been embarrassed to have been so utterly exposed like that to a sub of all people but it wasn't embarrassment that kept him pressed up against her. He didn't know what it was that had him crawling into bed with her and he certainly didn't want to think about it now, not when she relaxed against him, her trust in him absolute.

In moments she was sleeping, the steady beat of her heart under his hand and the gentle exhale of her breath on his arm a comfort to him. She felt good like this; soft and warm, pressed against him in a way he'd never experienced with anyone else.

_I should go_, he thought. But she was so comfortable and vulnerable and well, she smelled so good and the way she gripped his hand made him feel wanted and needed in a way that he just wasn't ready to part with.

_Just a few more minutes..._

* * *

When he woke to the harsh sun streaming in through the window he was alone, her side of the bed cold and empty. How he had slept until 10am was beyond him but the clock in this room was accurate as was the gnawing hunger he felt at having missed breakfast. Food made him think of dinner, of the way he'd asserted his authority over her. The way he'd continued to eat while she was on her knees, the way the resentment had flashed through her blue eyes when she had finished her task.

He felt…guilty. Sickeningly guilty. Disgusted with himself. Was he really that irrational? That jealous over another man? He groaned, swept his hand over his face with a pang of regret and kicked off the blankets that had covered them both last night. At the door he paused and looked back at the unmade bed, the indentations of their bodies eliciting a small smile from him.

When he came down she was dancing with her ear buds in again, her sweet ass shaking in those yoga pants he'd come to adore. When she saw him she put the iPod on speaker and sang along to some country song he didn't know, her smile infectious while she flipped pancakes and bacon on the griddle.

"Hungry?" she asked, sliding a plate to him where he had been sitting motionless for over five minutes now.

"Starving." _For you, for more of last night, for your laugh and your voice..._

Over breakfast she chided him on snoring and teased him for grabbing her breasts as she had tried to get out of his grasp this morning. He laughed, sure she was telling the truth and then reached for her so that she finished her breakfast in his lap.

"I do not snore," he said between bites of pumpkin pancakes.

"You most certainly do! Has no one ever told you that?" She giggled and dabbed at a drop of maple syrup that had dripped onto his chin.

"Never slept with anybody before so no."

Ana paused, the implications of just how big a leap that had been for him hitting her hard. "No one? Ever?"

He finished his coffee and fed her a bite of scrambled eggs. "Occasionally I'd have to share a room with my older brother when we were on vacation and once I fell asleep in a biology class my senior year of high school but outside of that, nope. You're the first," he said with a grin, leaning back so that he could gauge her reaction.

"You have an older brother?" He laughed, surprised by the question.

"Yes, Elliot. He's two years older than me. I also have a sister Mia who is a bit younger than you."

"So you're the middle child then?" He nodded and shifted underneath her so that his hand could cup the cheek of her ass. "Are they adopted as well?"

"Yes." He didn't shut down like he sometimes did when personal questions were asked of him but she felt the shift in him nonetheless. They had shared a certain level of intimacy last night but the daylight always brings unrest and disquiet and it seemed that it was the same for this situation. She went on a limb, determined to keep the carefree smile on his face.

"Sir?" He raised his brows at her, her lashes immediately covering the blue of her eyes. "I'm glad you stayed with me last night. Thank you." She wanted so badly to kiss him then. In her entire life Anastasia Steele had never wanted to comfort someone more.

He inhaled slowly. It was happening again. That feeling of spinning out of control, of wanting something he had no right to claim. God, he needed to get himself under control.

"Ms. Steele," he started, his voice taking on that deep timbre that he reserved for domination. "I'd like for you to be ready upstairs in 20 minutes."

Her thighs contracted against his with anticipation.

"Yes, Sir."

She showered and braided her hair, rushing to the room and getting into position with less than a minute to spare before he came in, feet bare, those soft faded jeans barely brushing the ground at his heel. This time he wasted no time getting started.

"On the bed. Face down, body flat, arms above your head."

Around her the strains of 'Killing me Softly' floated through the air, the gentle strumming of the guitar taking the place of the sultry beat of the original. He grinned when he saw her toe keeping the beat, the sign of a true musician. Music moved her, spoke to her, elicited a physical response from her. He wanted to do the same.

He knelt next to her, the fabric of his jeans brushing her rib cage when he leaned over her to run a furred glove over the nape of her neck. With continuous long strokes it glided over her, relaxing the muscles under her sensitive skin. Without warning the sensation changed to that of a million pinpricks as he rolled not one but two Whartenburg wheels over the same places he had just soothed.

She had a love/hate relationship with that wheel. It didn't feel good in its administration but the after effects were well worth the small annoyance of pain. Nothing had ever made her so aware of her own flesh, as if every nerve ending were dancing under the wheels bite. He grinned at her goose bumps and grew hard at the way her skin grew red along the trails he'd made.

When she shifted a bit he switched again, this time to a long peacock feather that he flattened along the length of her back. The delicate feather had her shivering with each swipe, the sharp edges of the wheel now soothed by the softness he lavished her with.

"Your skin is the most beautiful shade of pink, Anastasia."

She smiled at his admiration. She liked to make him happy, needed his approval and his pleasure in her. Her nipples tightened and ached for his attention while her pussy wept for him. She'd had good Doms before, she'd even go so far as to say that her last Dom had been an attentive and amazing lover. But none of them even came close to turning her on the way Christian did. She bit back the sigh of his name and forced herself to relax when he moved away then, coming back only a minute later.

This time the bare skin of his knees brushed against her as she felt the drops of warm oil along her spine. When he touched her, she moaned, the feel of his hands a welcome relief after the denial of them for almost an hour.

"You pleased me last night, Anastasia." He moved to straddle her below her ass so that his hands could massage the muscles there. "Your voice is beautiful." He covered his cock in the oil. "Your presence is soothing." He stroked his hand over his length and knelt low to whisper in her ear. "And I'm glad I stayed with you last night as well." When he took himself in hand again and thrust his length along the crack of her ass she tensed. He paused.

"I would never betray your limits, Ms. Steele. You should know that." He spread her ass and laid his dick between her cheeks before pushing them together so that he was essentially fucking her crack. She was still tense, still nervous. _One day,_ he thought longingly. Despite the pleasure and the pleasing visual, he stopped and fisted himself, one hand pressing down on the small of her back for balance.

"You pleased me," he whispered above her, "You always please me. You should be rewarded." He leaned down and kissed between her shoulder blades. "How would you like me to fuck you, Ms. Steele?"

_I get to pick? My choice?_

He waited, his hands moving upwards to massage the muscles of her shoulders and arms.

"You, on top facing me, Sir." Maybe this time he'd allow her to touch his face. Maybe, just once while he was facing her he'd allow her arms to remain unrestrained.

"We aim to please, Anastasia. Turn over." She did, her back sticking slightly to the sheets. Bringing her legs up he bit each of her toes, scraping his teeth over the arch of her left foot until she felt her clit throb in response. He was good, so amazingly good at this game of seduction. "Arms up," he instructed her.

To her disappointment he slipped her wrists into the soft cuffs on the headboard and then sat back to reach for the oil. He was generous in its distribution, the globes of her breasts so alluring covered in the slick lubricant that he debated ignoring her request so that he could fuck her tits instead.

_Plenty of time for that, Grey, _he chided.

Lifting her hips in his hands he sank into her, pausing to allow her to accommodate him.

"Fuck," he hissed. Nothing could ever prepare him for the perfect tight heat that was her pussy. "You feel so fucking good, Anastasia."

When she had relaxed around him he sat back on his haunches and watched with fascination as his cock split her bare pussy open and slid in and out, the throbbing length of him somehow being given admittance into her body.

"So pleased," he said breathlessly, collecting some of the oil on the pad of his thumb before pressing it to her clit. She arched her back and tightened around him, the pleasure of it all so exquisite he felt dizzy. He wanted to taste her, wanted her to flood his mouth so he pulled out, bent over and lifted her up so that he could bury his face between her legs.

"Oh god!" she exclaimed to his immense satisfaction. He growled against her, the vibrations propelling her forward so that when he bit down gently on that bundle of nerves that brought her so much pleasure she lost it. Totally fell into the abyss unaware of how much her legs were shaking or how loudly she was yelling 'Yes!' His hands and fingernails raked over the sensitized skin of her body, the nerve endings firing off so that her orgasm all but killed her.

Before she had a chance to recover he shoved back into her tight slit and pounded his body against hers as hard as he could so that she bowed beneath him. She was crying out, a mixture of agony and of pleasure until his roar topped hers. Beneath her his hands squeezed her ass and held her to him as he came, the sight of his cock twitching prolonging the pleasure that was running through his body. When he was empty he withdrew slowly so that he could watch his cum run out of her, the sight smoothing over the last of his frayed nerves.

Claimed.

Marked.

_His._

* * *

**'Baby Mine' Bette Midler's version**


	8. Chapter 8

It could be put off no longer. He'd avoided every one of their phone calls since the photo had been published on Wednesday, had left each of their emails and texts unanswered but it was Sunday and he had to go to Bellevue to face the firing squad that was his family.

Anastasia had left an hour before, staying later than the two o'clock limit of the contract so that they could finish watching the movie he'd purposefully put in at 1:30. He'd seen Shawshank Redemption a hundred times but she had never watched it which gave him the perfect excuse to keep her around a bit longer. He refused to face the fact that he'd actually planned on a way to keep her at Escala longer, chalking his behavior up to the freezing and rainy December day. _Perfect movie weather_, he'd said after their playroom session while she pulled together a lunch for them.

She'd made popcorn and had let him rub her feet in his lap, returning the favor when his fingers grew tired. He'd never let anyone touch him like that but when Ana had lifted his bare foot onto her lap and had mimicked what he had just done to her, he didn't fight it, he just enjoyed it. A lot. So much so that when the movie was over he bent her over the couch and held her hands in his as he fucked her.

When she began to pant 'Yes' he grinned behind her, pleased that he'd never told her to be silent like he had his other submissives. For a moment he felt in control of the situation and then his sweet Ana begged to cum and well, it wiped that smug grin right off his face. With a loud smack to her ass he demanded her orgasm and she gave it to him, the clenching heat of her draining him dry no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

She had kissed his cheek sweetly before climbing into her car to leave, the soft brush of her lips causing him to bite his own so that he wouldn't beg her to stay.

He'd downloaded the song she'd sung for him Friday night and played it over and over on the way to his parents fully aware that no matter how much silence he threw their way, they were not going to relent until they had an answer as to who the woman in the picture was. What had him scratching his head was the fact that he was almost looking forward to his families inquisition. He _wanted_ to tell them about Anastasia.

"Christian!" his mother exclaimed when she greeted him, kissing his cheek and shivering against the cold air he'd let in behind him. His father greeted him with a hand shake and handed him a glass of scotch with a less than subtle nod and wink. "I wasn't sure if you were coming since we didn't hear from you but I guess you've been busy so..."

"Grace. Let the man take his coat off first," his father said with an eye roll. "I'm sure we'll hear all about what's keeping him so busy."

_Christ, here we go._

When Mia came bounding out of the living room she squealed and jumped at him, her arms just deflected by his own when she embraced him. As much allowance as he'd given her, she still couldn't touch him there. Nobody could. Ever.

"Oh my God, Christian, I'm so happy,"

"Mia," Carrick said sternly. She huffed and grabbed her brothers hand to steer him into the room from which she'd just came.

"Bro," Elliot said lazily from the couch where he and Mia had been watching the football game. "49ers are killing them. It's not even fun to watch."

He sat in the arm chair and sipped his drink waiting for the questions to start but nobody said anything outside of the weekly chit chat until his mother called them to the table. They all sat in their respective seats, Elliot and Mia on one side so that Christian was alone on the other. It had always been like that and until tonight he'd not really put any thought into it but now, in between listening to his mother's chatter about a measles outbreak in Oregon and his father whining about the current Mayor of Seattle, he realized just how much he'd like for someone to sit next to him too.

"Mia when do you leave for Paris?" Carrick asked, adding more butter to the garlic bread he was eating.

"The day after New Years. I'm thinking you should all throw me a party. A going away party." Elliot rolled his eyes and shoved a meat ball in his mouth. At 31 he had the table manners of an orangutan when it was just family.

"You _would_ think you deserve a party for going to freaking Paris." Elliot's eyes lit up, settled briefly on his little brother and then moved to his mothers. "Actually, that's a great idea, Mia. Mom you should have a New Years Eve party and double it down as Mia's going away party."

Mia squealed, Carrick harrumphed and Grace contemplated. But Christian knew exactly what was going on in his brothers head. When Elliot gave him a spaghetti sauce smile he knew he was right. _Asshole_.

Grace Grey pursed her lips in thought before resting her fork on her plate, her decision made. "That's a great idea, actually. We were just going to host a few of our friends as of now but Mia honey if you want to invite some friends over as well, that would be fun." Carrick nodded as he always did at his wife's last minute ideas and poured a bit more red wine into an already full goblet.

"Yeah, and Christian can invite his new girlfriend." There it was. Gauntlet thrown down from one brother to the other. The table went silent around him; even Mia stopped babbling but Christian kept eating as if nobody was watching.

"Don't have a girlfriend, Elliot. But thanks."

"That girl then, the pretty brunette from the picture, she's just a friend then?" Grace sounded disappointed but resigned, her tone achingly familiar to his ears.

"Something like that, mom." Eyes on hers he put his fork down. "I'm not having this conversation though so let's drop it." And drop it they did because when Christian put his foot down, no force on earth could move him.

Across the table Grace and Carrick held a silent exchange. They knew what Elena Lincoln had done to him, it had all come out six years earlier when _the incident_ happened but after their initial conversation about it, Christian had refused to discuss it any more. He had promised them he was fine, told them about the years of counseling he'd undergone, promised to continue it and then had shut them out even more than before.

It had crushed his parents, the revelation that one of their friends had sexually abused their son for years but the years of therapy they'd now accumulated had helped them to process and deal with the horror of it. And though no mention of Christian had been made in the papers, when the nature of Elena Lincoln's sexual proclivities had been published, they'd known exactly the type of introduction to sex their child had been subjected to.

It became too much to bear. Too much guilt, too much sorrow, too much hate, too much loss. Carrick had found brief escapes in the bottle and though the pain numbed itself after a few drinks, he could never drink enough to get rid of it entirely.

But Grace? Grace Grey found no escape no matter what she tried. Alcohol, prescription drugs, intense exercise, meditation, twice daily counselling...nothing could get her past the soul crushing devastation that had taken up residence in her chest. And that day...that day that Elena's secret had become front page news...it had torn at her heart so violently that she kept waiting to die. Surely nobody could withstand this kind of torture. At some point the soul has to fly away to save itself.

But every morning she woke up, soul intact despite being shredded by nightmares and a son who couldn't look her in the eyes. Death would have brought mercy. When Elliot found her sitting on the dock at two in the morning begging God to take her life if it would give her son peace, she knew things had to change.

They had started attending church that same weekend, tossing everything they had at the pain that literally threatened to kill them. Every Sunday morning Carrick and Grace Grey along with two of their children would file into their pew and sing their hymns, say their silent prayers and put their money in the offering basket while asking God for their youngest son to be healed of the damage so many others had inflicted upon him. And every Sunday night they would sit down at this table with that very same son and hope and pray that something had changed over the last week.

It never did.

* * *

"You are so lucky you don't get a period, Ana. God, this is torture," Kate groaned and hugged the heated pillow to her lower abdomen, rolling on the couch as if her leg was being torn off.

"Yeah, I'm so lucky I don't have a uterus," Ana said sardonically. Kate stopped immediately and cringed.

"I'm sorry, that was so stupid of me. I am so so sorry."

On a sigh Ana forgave her. "It's fine. It'll be fourteen years in a few weeks since everything...ended."

Fourteen years. How had time passed so quickly? How had she gotten through it? Past it? How had her parents?

"Are you going to see your dad that weekend?"

_Shit!_ She hadn't even thought about their dinner date on the anniversary of…_that_.

"Damn! I didn't ask," she caught herself before saying his name and then glanced at Kate who gave her an 'I already know' look. "Mr. Grey."

"He's got a hot brother you know," Kate sighed.

"Who? Christian?" But she knew, she'd seen pictures in his study when she'd brought him coffee yesterday afternoon.

"Elliot. Fucking hot as shit too. I've heard he's a player though which surprises me because I've never met him and I'm pretty sure I've met every player in this city." She was joking but the truth was that Kate had been with more men, and a few women, than Ana could keep track of.

"I've never met him."

"No? Have you met anyone from his family?"

"No, Kate," she scoffed, "we're not dating. It's strictly contractual sex and that's all I'll say on it. NDA and all..."

"Contractual. Right. Let me just say that if the NDA meant so much to him, he'd never have been photographed with you. Listen, I've seen you with a few men my dear friend and I _know_ this one is different. You're almost…I don't know...melancholy when you're not with him and I know you're not like that when you're with him because he'd drop you like a bad habit if you were. No pussy is _that_ good."

"You're so crass," Ana laughed at her, tossing her the bottle of Pamprin she'd retrieved from the bathroom.

"And so right."

Next to her the Blackberry buzzed, a text from her Dom that made her instantly happy. She liked knowing he thought about her when they weren't together.

**-What are your plans for New Years Eve?**

**+As of now, nothing. I've been invited to a few friends houses but haven't committed to anything.**

**-I'd like for you to accompany me to a party at my parents house. Formal cocktail. We'll arrive at 8, dinner at 8:30, leave by 12:15.**

_Woohoo. Sounds like a blast. Who puts a time limit on New Years Eve?_ But it was a chance to be with him and _wait a minute, meet his family? Holy fuck!_

**+Your family? Are you sure?**

**-I told you once not to question me. May I remind you that NYE is a Saturday this year?**

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

**+I'm sorry, Sir. I happily accept your invitation and would have no matter what night it fell on.**

* * *

When the text came through he almost fist pumped but that would be telling so instead he slid the phone back into his pocket and casually tossed out between the lemon ice and the coffee, "Anastasia said she's able to accompany me here on New Years Eve."

He stood then, kissing his stunned mother and sister goodbye before shaking hands with his dad and flipping his brother the finger. Let them talk once he was gone.

* * *

She fretted endlessly over what, if anything, she was supposed to give Christian for Christmas. They'd never spoken about the friendship that had developed between them over the last two months but it was there nonetheless and while she knew no gift was expected, she found herself wanting to give him something. So that Saturday, when he'd had Taylor drive her to Neiman Marcus for a bit of 'retail therapy' as he called it, she had found herself wandering the men's section, a stupid grin on her face as she thought back on the last few weeks.

The last two weekends had been picture perfect, her body an instrument in his hands, his pleasure a gift to her that she cherished. She worked hard to be a good submissive for him and so far, was pleased with the way things had shaken out. Other than his near constant irritation at her lack of availability and his off handed questions and comments about her ex-Dom, they'd progressed quite nicely together.

He'd been extraordinarily busy, trying to close out projects before the year was over and a new fiscal year began so she didn't see him quite as much as usual when she was at Escala but he still rocked her world Friday night and most of Saturday. The last two Sundays he'd seemed a bit edgy as their time drew to a close, the now routine request for her to return during the week always meet with a firm, but gentle no.

She had been relieved when he acquiesced to her request to have Friday with her parents, citing his overwhelmed business engagements as having gotten in the way anyway. That Saturday morning she'd logged onto her email to find his picture on the home page of the Seattle Nooz, alone on the red carpet from the night before at some sort of charity event. It hurt a bit, knowing he hadn't asked her to go and that he would have left her in the apartment alone had she not gone to Montesano but that was her position. So she had buried the unintended slight and greeted him in the playroom after breakfast as he requested.

The rest of the weekend had been as fulfilling as the others before it even if he had been a bit rougher that first fuck. Was he pissed that she had gone away the night before or upset that he'd had to go alone to the event? He didn't offer an explanation and she didn't ask.

She fingered the ties and cuff links, rolled her eyes at the price tags and moved onto other masculine gift displays that she couldn't afford anyway.

_I mean, why buy him something he can buy himself and probably already has?_

"Ms. Steele?" She looked up then at the woman who had called her name and was met with kind green eyes. "Carolyn Acton, a pleasure to meet you. Please follow me." Through the backroom and past rooms marked private her feet padded on the plush carpet until one of those private doors was unlocked by Carolyn.

Inside were wall to wall mirrors and a single rack of cocktail dresses next to a small table adorned with a bucket of champagne. Another woman entered then and poured Ana a glass while Carolyn stripped her of her dress and took measurements from nape to toes.

"Bring me the silver one, Leigh." The woman named Leigh draped the silver beaded gown over one arm and presented it to Carolyn as if it were a work of art. Which, after closer inspection, Ana decided it was. The fabric draped over itself, lines of silver beading over delicate silver lace and organza. When she slipped it over her head it fit like a glove, both women stepping back to admire it.

"It's perfect for a New Year's Eve party but you'll need stilletos. Leigh, find the Manolo's from the fall. The ones with the four inch heel. Not the peeptoes." Carolyn looked at Ana apologetically. "I know they're last season but they're perfect."

_Last season?_ Ana laughed. "I don't care about that, Ms. Acton. I _am_ a little worried about how much this will cost though."

The older woman looked at her quizzically before the pieces fell into place.

"Mr. Grey has an account, Anastasia."

"Oh, I can't have him buy me this." Another confused glance. "It's too much," she muttered to the woman in front of her who was half amused, half shocked by the admission before she stood and crossed her arms in front of her.

"Well, Ms. Steele, then you're going to have a real problem since he requested that we outfit you with a few dresses and some nightwear as well. He also called to request that I outfit you for a Christmas party you're attending with him this week so we'll need a formal gown. Also on the account," she rushed to add.

_The clothing clause. Well shit._

* * *

"I trust you found something today?" Christian waited patiently, enjoying her squirming while he finished his chocolate mousse after dinner that Saturday. He knew she'd have a hard time accepting his purchase of the dress for the party but it would truly be his pleasure when he saw her in something he had given her.

_Wait until she sees the diamonds. If the dresses have her this uncomfortable, the diamonds will put her under._ He chuckled and spooned the last of the chocolate into her delectable mouth.

"I'm sorry I couldn't go with you but I had two calls that couldn't be rescheduled and I didn't want you just waiting for me again all day today. Was Carolyn helpful?"

"Yes, she was very nice. I did find something. A few somethings actually and as much as I appreciate the gifts I feel funny taking that kind of money from you. I mean, I could have found a dress at Macy's or something." He bit back the laugh.

"Anastasia. I have more money than I can spend in a hundred lifetimes. It brings me great joy to give that money away and even more joy to spend it on you." He took a sip of port and let the sweetness of the wine coat his tongue. "Besides, it's in our contract." He smirked knowingly at her pout. "Hey," he said sarcastically, arms raised, "you're the one who follows that thing to the letter."

"Of course I do! Why else have it?" She half laughed at him, dropping the clothing conversation when she saw the obvious delight buying her the dresses had brought him. "Are you rethinking your contract terms, Mr. Grey?"

"I'm still hungry," he said, avoiding the question. It was his contract after all, he couldn't well tell her that he wished he'd drafted one that bound her to him 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

She stood to get him more dessert but he grabbed her wrist and ordered her to strip instead. Heat bloomed deep in her womb, the rush of hormones making her slightly off balance. "Slowly," he instructed, her fingers pulling on the zipper of her skirt.

When she was naked he motioned for her to clean up the table, a task she did in the nude, eyes downcast to avoid his. There wasn't a hint of humiliation this time, just admiration at the way her body moved, the way her breasts swayed when she walked, the way her muscles flexed with each movement.

_God she's so beautiful._

"On the table. I want to eat now."

She tried to hide her smile but failed miserably. He didn't care, he smiled right back. When she was spread before him he just leaned back and gently pulled the lips of her sex open so that her clit was exposed to the chilled air. She flexed in response, his eyes immediately drawn to her ass.

_Had her former Dom taken her there? Had she promised that particular pleasure to him alone? Or had he hurt her?_

His finger traced from one end to the other, pausing over the tightly puckered skin. Above him Ana shivered with...fear? Desire? Arousal? He didn't know but he wouldn't take the chance of crossing a line so instead he followed the path of his finger and licked with the flat of his tongue over and over until she began to mewl.

"What's his name?" he said quietly into the soft flesh of her thigh. She sat up on her forearms then, panting, wanton, sexy as fuck. He wanted nothing more than to watch those beautiful blue eyes roll back in bliss.

"Sir?" She hadn't heard him, he'd been granted a reprieve.

He shook his head slowly back and forth, his lips gently sucking on her clit. God forbid she answered him now. The last thing he wanted was to hear the fuckers name when she was on the brink of an orgasm. She groaned and laid back flat until his fingers began to pluck at her nipples her back arching into the overwhelming ministrations until her body quivered and she cried out begging him not to stop.

He wouldn't. To deny her now would be to deny himself. He sat back, his hands holding her open so that he could watch the pulsing between her legs and then he stood and sheathed himself in that heated paradise.

"Fuck yes!" he cried as he pumped furiously. A short moment later he pulled out and yanked off his belt hastily tying her hands together in front of her before sitting down. He turned her away and gripped his cock, directing her over it before thrusting up.

"Fuck me, Ms. Steele, ride me until I tell you to stop."

_God he's so big_.

So hard and unyielding inside of her. Only one other lover had come close to Christian's size but he didn't match the girth that stretched her on that thin line between pain and pleasure.

"Fuck you look so hot bouncing on my cock. Do you like that?" he smacked her ass roughly. "Hmm? Do you like my cock in your pussy? Does it feel good when I pump you full of my cum?" _Oh god_ she was going to cum again. "Answer me!" Another smack.

"Yes! Yes, Sir!"

"So...fucking...tight. God damn you're so perfect." He left the _for me_ part off, unwilling to give her that much. He was close, so close but so was she and fuck if he was going to miss another opportunity to feel her rain down on him.

Masculine hands cupped her breasts before sliding to her hips. When one of his hands reached over that crest of bone and began lightly smacking the top of her slit she looked down and whimpered, the sight of him chasing her towards pleasure too much.

She came with a scream that hurt her throat. He held on to the last shred of control he possessed and lifted her up, turned her around and placed her on her knees. Sitting up straight she understood wordlessly what he wanted and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue for him.

Holding the back of her head he came on that tiny pink muscle that spoke such sweet words and did such sinful things to him. He watched the white ropes coat her lips, reveled in the small drips that fell from her chin to her tits and grunted with the effort when the last wave crashed.

He'd wanted to finish inside of her but for his own sanity he needed to see her mouth covered in his essence. If she had answered him, if she had said that man's name he would have lost his mind right then. But looking at her, mouth full of him, she was literally and figuratively his alone.

* * *

That Thursday he picked her up at seven and again had Taylor retrieve her instead of doing it himself. It was important that he keep this distance between what they agreed to share contractually and the private life that she so coveted. It had all begun to run together, the lines of sub and Dom running parallel to...whatever it was this had morphed into.

He'd become so adept at guarding himself that it was second nature to him. But still, the way he laughed with her and the way he was so willing to share small tidbits of his life with her had him both freaking out inside and doing his best to learn to roll with it. Anxious to see her he exited the warmth of the Audi and waited on the sidewalk for her, writing off his eagerness as nothing more than good manners.

Taylor exited the building first, a small smile on his face at what he knew would knock the boss on his ass. Ana followed behind him, her pale blue gown almost as stunning as the woman wearing it. His lungs ached with the breath he'd been holding at the sight of her, the cold air swirling around him not enough to cool the heat that emanated from wanting her.

"Mr. Grey!" She exclaimed, surprised that he wasn't in the car waiting. "It's 23 degrees out here, Sir!"

_Was it?_ He couldn't tell.

"Anastasia. You look breathtaking." She turned for him playfully and tightened the shawl around her shoulders. "Come, you must be freezing."

In the car he took her hands to warm them, chiding her for not having a suitable winter coat to wear. She looked at him with something akin to affection and then giggled at his tirade when it was over.

"Mr. Grey, up until Saturday I didn't have a dress that was suitable for a party let alone a Christmas party at Microsofts headquarters. Forgive me the coat." He grinned, took her chin between his fingers and kissed her soundly.

"You'll turn a few heads in that dress tonight." She knew she would. It was a beautiful Naeem Khan gown that highlighted her womanly figure in the most demure way possible and the stylist he'd sent over had spent almost an hour on her hair alone. It dawned on him then that other men would be watching her tonight and would undoubtedly be attracted to her as well. A small bubble of panic began to rise up at the fear that someone might try to take her from him.

_Maybe she shouldn't have come._

"I don't need to tell you that nobody will dance with you, sit with you or speak with you unless I am present." His jaw was set, eyes hard and in control.

"I understand, Sir." It pleased her to feel owned by him. His jealousy may have confused the shit out of her but it also made her feel confident and secure at the same time. As with all things emotional, when it came to her feelings about Christian Grey, nothing made much sense.

"Good." He sat back, his hand still covering hers and watched as the city lights flew by outside his window. "I've always hated these things. Such a waste of time to listen to people go on and on about themselves and how amazing they are and what their boring as fuck kids are doing." He turned to her. "But I've been looking forward to this all week and it's only because you're coming with me." She stifled her gasp.

"So we can make fun of the pompous airbags together?" He threw his head back and laughed.

"Yes."

As predicted the media went nuts when the two of them walked the red carpet. His publicist was on hand as was an extra bodyguard and while inside no one was screaming their names or flashing a camera in their faces, they were still being watched closely. Next to him Ana stood tall and played the role of the consummate date. Her ability to hold a conversation with anyone about anything was something he was truly impressed but not surprised by.

She was friendly and sweet, always generous with a smile and her time but it was the way she held onto his arm that had him strutting around the room as if he owned it. It wasn't so much the fact that every fucker in there knew that she was there with him and it wasn't so much that the prettiest girl at the party was on his arm. It was the knowledge that no matter how confident she appeared and no matter how many brows had been lifted his way by yet another person impressed by his date, she needed him.

He glanced down then and smiled at the tiny delicate hand that fit so perfectly into the crook of his arm. When someone new approached that tiny hand would tighten just slightly, only relaxing when the introductions were out of the way. He made her feel safe.

She had known that Christian was important in the business world, had a good understanding of how wealthy he was but never, in her wildest imagination had she expected the hordes of people vying for his attention. He gave them only enough to not be considered rude but that's all he could give. Occasionally someone would be brave enough to approach him but more often than not, Taylor would appear out of nowhere and direct them in the opposite direction. Twice now she'd seen Christian give his CPO a small nod before the man they'd been talking to was hauled off.

They had been seated at the head table with the Gates and the Governor of Washington along with a few other important people she didn't know off hand. Melinda had chatted her up, a mutual interest in music and teaching an easy bridge for them to cross.

Throughout dinner Christian kept one hand on her leg or her back, the gesture meant to warn other men off but that didn't deter a few bold ones who made their way over from time to time. When the senior vice president of marketing had asked Ana if she danced, Christian had given Taylor one of his small nods and then had abruptly ended the conversation with a glare.

Subconsciously he was aware of the stares of more than a few women. Truth be told he'd long ago come to terms with his looks and as unimpressed as he was of himself, he knew he was a good looking mother fucker. For her part Ana didn't seem to notice either the men or the women and instead focused on the conversations at the table. When he couldn't take one more minute of her affection and attention being shared with another he leaned in and kissed the shell of her ear.

"Dance with me," he'd whispered to her, his chest swelling with joy when she gave him a huge smile and offered him her hand. Without being reminded she kept to his safe areas and let him glide her around the room while Nora Jones sang 'Come Away With Me' from the stage.

"You smell so good, Sir." It came out before she could stop it. He'd overwhelmed her with his mere presence tonight from his fitted tux to the way he'd touched her to the scent that was so signature to him.

"I do?" He pulled his face back in surprise. She nodded and bit her lip. "Ana, tonight I'm just Christian remember?"

"You smell so good, _Christian_." She loved saying it as much as he loved hearing it from her. He leaned in, pushing her body flush with his.

"Tonight, when I make you cum, you'll scream my name over and over and over." He kissed her then as two men at the bar watched them, his mood turning sour in a nanosecond. "Ana, do you know anyone here?" A wash of panic came over him at the prospect that she'd fucked someone here.

"Not that I'm aware of, why?"

"Are any of your previous Doms here?" He should have kept his mouth shut but he had to know. Instantly her body tensed, the heat of her blush renewed by her embarrassment.

"None that I've seen," she said sadly, the buoyant mood between them sinking with alarming speed.

The two men at the bar continued to stare until one pointed at Ana and leaned in to speak to the other. Christian watched the man nod and smile and then caught his eye when he finally lifted his gaze off of her ass.

"You sure you didn't fuck anyone here, Ana? I mean, you did have those two random sessions at the club and frankly, I find such a low number hard to believe." She swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill over at his audacity.

"Are you accusing me of lying, _Sir_?" His eyes narrowed, the hand at her back tightened but it was the way he gritted his teeth that had her afraid of him.

"Answer me, Anastasia. Is there anyone here that you've fucked with that pussy or that mouth of yours?" Her cheeks burned at his vulgarity in the middle of such class and opulence.

_He's crazy._

Her mind betrayed her then, the words and emotions sitting just out of reach so that all she could do was stare past him and blink furiously to avoid from crying. He would never see her weak now. She continued to dance with him to avoid making a scene but all she wanted to do was hit him. "Are any of your ex-submissives here, _Christian_? Any women that you've fucked or let suck you off?" she hissed.

_Fuck him for ruining my night. Fuck him!_

"You'll pay for that one, Ms. Steele," he whispered with terrifying coldness.

_How fucking dare she speak to me like that._ His grip on her waist tightened until it was painful but she refused to make a sound. "We're leaving in ten minutes, start saying your goodbyes now."

They thanked Bill and Melinda Gates for such a lovely evening and left to the flash of lingering fans and photographers. The minute the door of the car shut he pounced on her, grabbing the back of her head and smashing his mouth to hers so forcefully that he drew blood.

"Take off your dress," he demanded angrily but she refused and instead did her best to push him away without touching his chest. Her efforts went unnoticed as the rage he'd been holding at bay swept over him."In my entire life I have never been spoken to so insolently. Clearly you need to be reminded of your position. _Submissive_."

She broke free and knocked on the glass partition. "Taylor take me home, please." He stared at her, incredulous to her blatant disrespect. She stared right back. "I know my position, _Sir_, you've made it very clear to me tonight." Her voice almost cracked but she found some vestige of strength and held herself in check.

"You're going home?" he spit out, still reeling from her rejection. When had a woman rejected him? Never. He'd never given them the opportunity to. "You can't!" At that she huffed out a laugh and reached for a tissue to hold against her lip. He winced, touching his own mouth to feel the warmth of blood on his fingertips.

"I can and I am. It's Thursday."

"You and your god damned rules, Ana! I am _so fucking sick_ of your fucking time constraints." He leaned back, regained a bit of his control and spoke calmly. "This isn't working for me." It was a last ditch effort, the temper tantrum of a grown man but he had no other cards here. He wanted her in his playroom, bent to his will and begging for forgiveness.

Instead she grew more resolute even as the searing pain of his words struck at her heart over and over. _'Not working for me. Not working for me.'_

"To Escala, Taylor!" He bellowed, his face a mask of fury.

"You can't hold me against my will, that would be kidnapping and I'm sure that falls under both of our hard limits." She refused, absolutely _refused_ to acknowledge him by any name right now. "I am going home. I may be your submissive but I'm not your whore. You will never speak to me like that again." At the last second her voice caught on the ball of emotion lodged in her throat but she gritted that last word out as if her life depended on it.

_Fuck him._

His eyes went wide, the harshness of her voice coupled with the emotion she barely kept in check no match for the remorse he felt at having made her feel that way.

"I do not think you're a whore, Ana. I have never thought that of you. If anything you're too good to be true."

She didn't even look at him. A chill ran up his spine despite the stifling heat of the car and the overwhelming rage that was burning inside his chest.

"I do not think you are a whore! Don't put words in my mouth, especially when they're vile."

No response. Not a shrug, not a wave, not an 'OK'. Nothing. When he ran his hands over his face she wiped the lone tear away before he could see it, blinking furiously to keep the rest at bay until she was in the privacy and safety of her apartment. Next to her she heard him sigh her name before he rested his head on the seat, hands limp by his sides in resignation.

Silence decended on them, the streetlights offering only glimpses into their tiny little world. If it had been any other sub he'd have tanned their hides and sent them packing for good. He should do it to Anastasia or she'd continue to push back at him and disrespect him until the balance of power had totally shifted.

_How dare she speak to me that way! I have to cut her lose tonight._ _Fuck this shit, this is too much like a relationship._

But when the car stopped and she reached for the door his panic took over. The prospect of not seeing her again so terrifying in that moment that he'd forgive anything she'd done.

"Ana!" he called as she put one leg out. She expected him to end it right then and there. She half turned to him. "Come home with me so that we can work this out." _What the fuck is wrong with you, Grey? Work it out? She's your submissive!_ But none of that mattered right now. "Please, stay with me tonight, Ana."

But the damage had been done, the infliction of pain so acute when administered by someone you trust. She turned to him, still silent and waiting for an apology that never came. If he wanted to work this out so badly, he could lower his standards and come upstairs to her apartment for once. She moved further out the door to where Taylor waited to walk her inside.

Taylor. Not Christian. Jason Taylor, his bodyguard would escort her to her door instead of the man she was currently giving her body to. For a few seconds she waited to see if he'd move towards her, waited to see if he'd make the effort, waited to hear the simple words of an apology. But he remained still and silent.

_So fuck him. _

"Ana," he tried one last time, her hope soaring briefly and the crashing to the ground when he made no attempt to get out.

With her shoulders pushed back and her head held high she turned away from him, leaning in to offer one final blow.

"It's Ms. Steele, _Sir_. Goodnight."


	9. Chapter 9

Christian hadn't called or texted after she had slammed the car door in his face before practically running into her apartment. If he was stewing, and she was sure he was, her punishment was going to be the worst she'd ever experienced if he took her back.

And that was a big if because knowing Christian and the way he saw the world in shades of black and white, there was no way he'd see how disrespectful he'd been. He'd only fixate on her response to him and the way she'd handled herself. She berated herself, scrubbing her skin clean of makeup as she worked out the hurt she felt in her chest.

_So he's jealous and stupid and petulant. That doesn't mean I should have responded by snapping back and then ignoring him like a child. I'm better than that. I'm not controlled by emotions and insecurities._ She groaned and fell onto her bed, a confused mix of anger, embarrassment, pride and pity melding together.

_What was that all about? What kind of submissive am I? Why had his questions made me so angry? Why is he so jealous over a man I walked away from?_

By morning she had fully convinced herself that their contract had been terminated. Of course it was, what Dominant would keep a submissive around who had such a dramatic temper? What incentive did he have to see her again if she was going to usurp his authority at each opportunity? Why bother scening with someone who refused to be available at his beck and call when there were so many others who would happily take her place any night of the week?

A heavy weight began to build in her belly as the day went on and she heard nothing from him. His silence spoke louder than anything else, the deafening roar of his loss so overwhelming that she had to cover her ears to escape it. She wouldn't reach out to him, not after the way he had behaved. But she still found herself rolling over his contact information over and over again, memorizing the numbers, reading the words, willing him to call.

No more nightly phone calls, no more Sunday afternoon movies, no more shared meals, no more deep conversations, no more sneaking glances at the most gorgeous man in the entire world.

_And the sex? Oh god the sex...I'll never have another lover who comes close._ It wasn't so much how skilled he was or how hot he was or how well endowed he was or the way he always sighed when he first entered her that had her feeling the acute emptiness. No, the combustible force that occurred when the two of them were in the same room was a chemical reaction. She _connected_ with him in a way she'd never experienced before.

In Ana's experience, there were individual who gravitated towards the lifestyle for no other reason than that they enjoyed this manner of sex. Then there were others who were traumatized and found BDSM to be a way that they could control their sexual environments and partners in a way that provided pleasure and security.

And then there were those who were a combination of the two. A need bought on by the mixture of nature vs. nurture, a physical reaction that remains unexplained, a fulfilment that can only be found in in the act of total submission or total dominance. Ana knew exactly where she fell, knew exactly the reason she had found the lifestyle advantageous. There had been no shame in her introduction, no self pitying or psychological autopsies. It just worked for her. All of it made total sense, from the vetting of a potential partner to the negotiations to ensure pleasure and safety to the tender care she received afterwards.

Safe. Sane. _Consensual_.

Everything; the physical acts, the emotional releases, the mindless enjoyment had a place until Christian Grey came around and took those carefully separated emotions and mixed them up with a physical reaction that left her reeling.

She'd turned her ringer on as loud as it would go and had kept the phone in view all day but nothing came from him. Not a text, not an email, not a voice mail, not so much as a fuck you have a nice life.

At four she'd begun to give up all hope and a half an hour later she'd totally thrown in the towel when her phone dinged with a text alert, her hands grabbing it off of the table so quickly the student in front of her had jumped.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "continue on but this time, change the key and use a capo." Her hands trembled, her throat went dry, her head spun with fearful anticipation. She waited until the man in front of her began to play again and then looked down, the sight of his name more than her heart could bear right then.

**-Shall I expect you at our normal time? Or have I driven you off with my regretful behavior?**

It had been six hours since he'd composed those two single sentences but he'd not pressed send until just now.

_What if she said no? What then? _He'd been wrong, he knew that the second those unfortunate questions had left his mouth but then she'd met his anger with fury and, well, he'd lost control. Again.

He'd debated telling her he wouldn't punish her but what kind of Dom was he if he didn't enact his authority? And if ever there was a time to administer a punishment, this would surely be it. She had disrespected him not once but twice and then had refused to come back with him last night. He should have terminated their contract that minute but he didn't...he couldn't.

Instead he'd sat at his desk, scotch in one hand, the contract in the other and had vascillated for hours over what to do while his stomach twisted. From a Dominant perspective, or hell, even a CEO perspective it was clear. She had to be cut loose and soon. There were too many emotions involved, too many connections that he couldn't understand. His need for her terrified him in a way he'd never felt before.

_She could destroy what's left of me. Letting her speak to me like that, allowing her to walk away from me like that only to welcome her back with open arms...it gives her the upper hand. _

Twice he picked up his phone to call her and curtly tell her that she was no longer needed and twice he'd thrown that phone right back onto his desk. Anastasia Steele may be the most compatible sexual partner he'd ever had. She may be the person who made him laugh the hardest and feel the most but as far as being submissive outside of the bedroom, she was anything but.

_A clean break. It has to be a clean, quick break so that I can start lining myself up with someone else immediately. Too much going on for me to go without that right now._

But one hour bled into two and two became four and before he realized how much time had passed he was running along Fourth Avenue with Taylor at six in the morning after a fitfull and restless night. Why had he hesitated for so long? Why, instead of feeling fury was he feeling anxiety? And guilt?

After a grueling seven mile run he stripped and let the water soothe his tired muscles.

_Just get it over with_, he thought when he toweled off, his eyes glued to the phone he'd tossed onto his bed. After a hasty breakfast and an impromptu session with John Flynn he felt no better than he had when he'd left her last night. For all the money he'd paid the charlatan over the years you'd think he'd have a better answer than, 'Tell her you care about her and therefore overreacted.'

_Fucking call her and end this shit! Get your god damned control back, stop thinking with your dick and move the fuck on!_

But Christian Grey, for all of his emotional aloofness, knew the sharp sting of loneliness. It had never bothered him before, had never been something he'd struggled with but if Anastasia were gone...well...he knew loneliness was all that waited for him. And to have lived in that state for years only to be pulled from it so unexpectedly had left him grasping at anything he could to keep from going back there.

He'd been wrestling with this for weeks now, the Dominant he knew versus the emotional human he was becoming. What was it about Anastasia Steele that had him so caught up? What was it about her that had him circling round and round in his head like this? He'd had so many other women before her, so many who had been much better submissives, so many who had given him total access to their bodies and time and yet he'd never been overly interested in any of them. But Ana? Interested was quite possibly the mildest of words he could use to describe his growing obsession with her.

It wasn't just the fact that the sex was better than any he'd had before. It wasn't because she was, bar none, the most beautiful woman in the world. It wasn't any of those tangible things that had his heart trip hammering every time he'd see her. He just...connected with her in a way he'd never been able to with anyone else.

She made him feel alive. Understood him. Accepted him.

When her CPO checked in to alert him to the fact that she was in her studio he went from anxious to angry.

_So she's awake and going about her day like nothing is wrong while I'm here sick to my stomach and tied up in knots? What the fuck?_

He picked up the phone in his office and had Andrea patch him through to the man in charge of Ana's safety.

"Sir."

"Sawyer. Ms. Steele is at her studio?"

"Yes, sir. Arrived at 8:55 this morning and is currently in session with a student. Vocal, I believe."

"Did she seem upset?" Luke Sawyer pulled the phone away slightly from his ear and pursed his lips. What in the hell had gotten into the boss? Taylor had mentioned that things had been tense last night between the two but Luke assumed he meant in that weird room at the boss's apartment. Why a beautiful woman like Anastasia Steele chose to spend her time with a cold man like Christian Grey was beyond him but he'd learned early on that his job wasn't to figure that shit out. His job was to keep his target safe and the paying client happy.

"She seemed a bit off kilter, sir but I didn't speak with her so I'm unable to give you an accurate gauge on her mental state." He held his breath, willing for this strange exchange to end. He'd taken this job last week when Jason Taylor basically hunted him down the day after his retirement from the Marines. If he had to start analyzing the mood of women and navigating the emotional mine field of someone else's relationship, he'd reenlist. At least in Afghanistan he knew who he was fighting.

"Off kilter," Christian mused, one finger running along his bottom lip. "If she leaves, I want to know about it. I want to know where she's going before she gets there."

Luke would have responded in the affirmative but the line went dead, the boss no longer needing to bother himself with the man.

_Fuck,_ he whined internally. _So this is where it all ends for me. Sitting on a hard backed chair in the hallway of a building while my target teaches snot nosed brats how to sing and her pseudo lover takes the train to crazy town. Six tours, a Purple Heart and a broken marriage and this is where I wind up. Awesome._

Christian knew it shouldn't have pleased him that Ana seemed a bit off this morning as well but it did. At least he wasn't the only one struggling with what happened last night. He nodded sharply to Andrea as she brought him his morning protein drink. The lines had blurred between them, that much was obvious. But when? And how? And more importantly, why?

He took a sip of the disgusting vanilla drink and grimaced. No pussy was worth this kind of headache.

He could make one phone call and have a beautiful woman who didn't come with a laundry list of hard limits and a smart mouth at his door in an hour. And yet...that held zero appeal to him. Because Anastasia was way more to him than the physical offerings she could give him.

_Fuck! How did you let this happen? How did you let yourself get dependent you idiot?_

With a growl he pushed all thoughts of his submissive out of his head and dove headfirst into the never ending pile of work on his desk. If she could go on with her day, than he could do the same.

Nobody that worked for Christian Grey would have called him a gentle or kind boss but today he was more unbearable and unreasonable than ever. He ripped the heads off of his assistants and his CFO during the morning run through, walked out of a zoning meeting without so much as a 'see ya' and then had told Elliot to go fuck himself for absolutely no reason when he'd called to see about lunch.

By eleven he'd fired six people and had sabotaged a land deal that his firm had been working on for a month. Andrea cleared his schedule for the rest of the day and ordered him lunch, all but locking him in his office so that he couldn't inflict more damage. But he didn't need lunch or solitude, he needed to fix this mess with Anastasia. So he'd typed out those two lines, a harsh peace offering if one could call it that and then had proceeded to stare at it for hours before finally hitting send.

And now here he sat, pathetically staring at his phone while he willed her to text him back. When it vibrated in his hand he almost stood up, the shot of adrenaline too much to take.

**+Yes. I will be there at six.**

Yes. That one word brought him relief so profound his head began to pound. For a moment he relished in the knowledge that it wasn't over, grateful to have the opportunity to see her again before jumping into action.

He called Gail, gave her instructions as to what he wanted at the apartment when he got there and then in a blazing sweep of relieved joy ordered his staff home for the day. At five. They just stood there and gaped at him in disbelief until Andrea shooed everyone out the door aware that her boss's goodwill was likely to be cut short if they continued to stare at him.

* * *

"Sir, dinner is ready whenever you are. Simple per your request. I've uploaded all of the Christmas songs onto a single playlist, you'll just need to hit play when you're ready. Fireplace is lit, wine is chilled and Taylor and I are off to the opera. Have a wonderful weekend, Mr. Grey."

Once Gail left he showered and shaved and then dressed in the gray trouser pants he knew Ana liked along with a fitted white henley. Despite the freezing December evening and the cold emanating off of the marble floors, he left his feet bare knowing that she found them sexy. The compliment, made casually as she had massaged them the previous weekend had made him inordinately proud.

At six the elevator dinged to announce her arrival. He stood just inside the foyer and waited for the doors to slide open, heady anticipation making his fingertips tingle. Her eyes, usually so bright when she met him were downcast but it was the sight of her bottom lip that had his gut twisting.

He'd actually bruised it when he'd kissed her last night.

_Oh my God, I've hurt her._

"Ana," he gasped, rushing towards her and shaking his head to readdress her per her parting remark in the limo last night. "Sorry, Ms. Steele. Your lip…I…I didn't mean to hurt you." Inside he panicked when she drew her head back slightly to avoid his inspection. Dropping his hands to his side he stepped back to give her space and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"My intention was not to hurt you, I feel terrible for that."

She looked at him then, her head cocking to the side with the slightest hint of amusement. Did he know his own lip was slightly swollen? Probably not.

"Calling me Ana is fine and so is my mouth. Fine, I mean. My mouth is fine," she stammered. _God you sound like an idiot_. "I know you weren't trying to hurt me." That much she'd give him. She'd debated coming back but one look at the man in front of her and she didn't care much what he did to her body so long as he was giving her his attention.

It was the truth. As much as she hated herself for standing there in front of him, as much as she berated herself for coming here tonight and hoping to reconcile with him she knew she'd have hated herself more if she hadn't ever seen him again.

She may not know his secrets but she knew his heart and that was enough for her.

They stood there, his 6' 2" frame to her 5' 8" and took the other in, both a bit unsure as to how to proceed. Finally he took the small overnight bag from her hand and ushered her inside, his hand settling on her lower back to steer her towards their private sanctuary. When she heard Bing Crosby crooning about a white christmas she looked at him, blinking with surprise that he had a sentimental bone in his body.

"Who doesn't like Bing?" he shrugged, tossing the bag onto a nearby chair. "Even monumental assholes like me like Christmas music."

Was that his idea of an apology? Or was it a warning? She remained still until he turned back to her and smiled, taking her hand in his and pulling her into the kitchen where the chicken stew was bubbling on the stovetop while a freshly baked loaf of crusty bread sat waiting on the table. If he was going for comfortable and cozy, he was hitting all the right marks so far.

"We'll eat first and then talk," he said authoritatively as he reached for the chilled white wine and began to pour. She took the cue and washed her hands before ladeling the steaming food into the ridiculously expensive 'everyday' bowls Mrs. Taylor had set the table with.

She held back the groan when she tasted the food so expertly prepared. If she was going to do this, be Christian's submissive then she was going to start acting more like it. Gone were the days of casual conversation because that segued into a more personal relationship that neither one of them was capable of navigating. _That_ much had been made abundantly clear last night.

"I trust you slept well last night," he said casually, dipping the artisian crust into the broth and chancing a quick glace her way.

"Somewhat. I took a Tylenol PM." She knew it would piss him off but she wanted to be honest anyway. He bit his cheek to suppress his disdain. "How was the rest of your night?"

"It was…less than pleasant," he answered quietly.

Did the knowledge that he had suffered as well please her? She thought for a few seconds and decided that no, it did not. As his submissive her job was to make him happy and watching him now, he was not at all happy. He was pensive and full of fake confidence that clawed at the compassionate side of her. Christian Grey was just as hurt and confused as she was.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said meekly. He dropped his bread and looked straight at her.

"I had another nightmare," he confessed. Her jaw dropped at his candor but she quickly shut it so as not to embarrass him. "You were in it." At that admission her heart clenched.

"I was?"

He nodded and sipped the sancerre slowly so that he could savor the crispness of the bouquet. If he was going to do this, be her Dom, then he needed to be honest. If he was truthful with himself, and he always was, he hadn't been a very good Dominant to her thus far. The first few weeks, yes. But then something had shifted and the lines had blurred and he had no idea how to correct that or if he even wanted to.

"My nightmares are always the same. Memories of my early life with my birth mother and her many...customers along with the pimp who used to put his cigarettes out on my skin." She fought the bile that rose in her throat. "I'm sure you've noticed the scars."

"Yes, Sir. I knew what they were." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat, her heart breaking for the little boy lost inside the man.

"Yes, well, outside of my therapist and my parents, you are the first person I have said those words to." He tipped his glass to her, "And you will be the last. I'm diligently working to close that chapter of my life." For a moment he debated telling her the rest. "In my nightmares, as was the case in real life, nobody came to help. But last night, during the peak of the terror, suddenly _you_ were there in that dank living room with me." He swallowed the words as if they were coated with poison. "You extended your hand to me but I refused to take it so you offered me your other hand and again I refused to take it."

He stopped talking then, the apartment suddenly too quiet, too small, too bright. She waited for him to continue but he continued to blankly stare in her direction instead.

"Is that when Taylor woke you?" His eyes lifted to hers and bore into her.

"No. You walked past my mother, past the pimp, past all the filth that surrounded me and grabbed me by my arms and pulled me out yourself." His mouth went dry while his body grew damp with perspiration at his admission.

"And then you woke up?" she asked with a whisper.

"And then I woke up. No Taylor needed." He didn't tell her that he sat at his piano the rest of the night perfecting the song she'd sung for him. Her voice, the notes, the way her small hands had ghosted over the ivory keys, all of it was embedded into his memory.

"Yesterday, Mr. Grey, I…" he waited with bated breath, desperate to hear what it was she had to say. "I…I was wrong to speak to you like that and for that I apologize. I've never had to answer to anyone about my past before and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure why you're so fixated on his name to begin with. Your interest makes me nervous." He kept silent, a technique he'd learned from years of therapy. "But I signed NDA's with all of them and I respect that trust the same as I respect the NDA I signed with you."

Her hand fluttered around like a bird, "I would think you'd appreciate my discretion. At least you can be assured that I won't tell your name to another Dom down the road." His eyes flashed with a jealousy so visceral he could feel it take up residence in his soul.

"You think you'll have another Dom, Anastasia?" he snapped out angrily.

_Shit. That was not what I meant._

"To be honest, Mr. Grey I thought you'd have let me go after our exchange last night especially since I don't give you the kind of time you so frequently request."

"That's not an answer." He leaned forward and then stopped, sitting back and doing his best to appear non-menacing. "Do you or don't you think you'll have another Dom, Anastasia?"

"Well," she stumbled over the word, her nerves frayed by the intensity that was radiating off of him.

_This must be what his business associates feel. No wonder he runs the West Coast._

"I can only assume that at some point you'll reach my limits and that eventually you'll move on to someone more willing to cater to your more aggressive desires. I would think it's a logical conclusion. I have limits in place that clearly disappoint you and while I'm happy with what we have, I'm not naïve enough to think that someone on my level, with my lack of experience and my rigid limits would keep you indefinitely. So yes, I do think you'll one day move on and at that point I'll have to as well."

_Move on?_ _Move on? How could I ever move on after having you?_

He blinked and took a bite of his dinner, the simple act of swallowing almost impossible due to the ball of tension lodged in his throat.

_She has no idea. No idea the effect she's had on my life. _

His mind raced along with his heart, his hands sweating at the decision he was facing. She was right in the fact that as a submissive her limits and her constricted availability were a problem but she was wrong if she thought he'd ever not want her. Inside his brain scrambled for the right words, the right things to say to get her to feel confident with her position with him but in the end, the only thing he could think to offer her was the truth.

"I have no intention of replacing you and I'm hoping you have no intention of replacing me. I think we work quite well together even though, I admit, ours is not a typical Dom/sub relationship. At least not one that I've had before." God he was fucking confused. Things were so much easier when it was just sex.

"I agree," she said carefully. "And no, I have no intentions of replacing you though our interaction last night, the way we spoke to each other and treated each other, it can't happen again, Mr. Grey. I don't operate like that and I don't want to be treated in that manner again." She took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back, "I _won't_ be treated like that."

He lifted the goblet to his lips and smiled, "We can both agree to that, Ana. Last night was...despicable. On both our parts but mine especially."

"Yes, it was."

"Let me clarify one thing though, Ms. Steele. I do not, never have, and never will, think of you as a whore. You are the furthest thing from that and if I've made you feel otherwise, it was truly not my intention." He swallowed thickly and touched one finger to her palm. "I was wrong to have asked you those questions especially in the manner at which I did so. For that I am remorseful."

With a slow exhale she let the anger go. This was a man who needed to be shown forgiveness even if he didn't know how to ask for it. Why she wanted to be the one to reach him she didn't know but the desire to care for him was stronger than the desire to punish him.

"And I should have walked away and ignored you but instead I goaded you on by hitting back." She closed her palm over his finger, the heat from that one digit warming her entire body. "But next time you speak to me like that or make me feel like that, I'm walking away from this no matter how great it's been."

He smiled. _She thinks this is great. _"Understood."

And that concession was the most either of them was willing to give to the other. Grasping at the control he was always searching for he took the reigns of the conversation and steered it towards the future, ensuring that he would get more time with her.

"What we do need to do, Ana, is clarify what we're ok with and what we're not ok with. Since this is new ground for both of us, it's only fair that we navigate this together. I will start." Leaning back he took her in. The startlingly clear blue eyes, the perfect alabaster skin, the way her lips formed a perfect bow. "I am not ok with seeing you only on Friday, Saturday and Sundays. I am not ok with you speaking to me abrasively like you did last night and I'm not ok with you not having security with you at all times."

She waited but he was finished. So he knew she'd ditched Luke this afternoon when she went out for lunch with Kate.

_Damn._

"But everything else?"

"I'm fine with," he said with the flick of his wrist.

"So, my limits, other than my time are all right with you still?"

"For now, yes. A large part of my pleasure is derived from yours. If I were to ask you to do something that made you uncomfortable or that pained you in any way, it would diminish my enjoyment and yours. And that," he grinned, "isn't something I am willing to do."

"And the way our relationship has evolved into something akin to a friendship? That's all right as well?"

_Friendship?_ He squinted and thought about the word. He'd not really had a friendship with anyone other than Elena and even that hadn't been real. This...thing...he had with Ana felt like more than friendship. A bubble of fear rose in his gut. _More? Fuck no, I don't do more._

"I quite like that part of our interactions. In fact I like pretty much all of our interactions which is why the weekends aren't enough." He laughed. "I feel like I'm finally getting the relaxation I've been looking for."

It hit him then, rendering him silent, the laughter that had just inhabited the cavity of his chest making room for something far more profound.

_I've finally found what I've been looking for._ And yes the sex was great and the BDSM was thrilling but it was what they did _outside_ of the bedroom that had him so at peace that he could sleep at night. It was the mental and, dare he think it, _emotional_ release she gave to him that relaxed and recharged him.

"That makes me very happy to hear, Sir." She was helping him. It thrilled her. "I'm willing to talk about adding a day every other week and we've addressed the way we spoke to each other. As to the security, I just don't feel like it's a necessary conversation to have. I mean, yes there were a few weirdo's this morning waiting outside of the apartment but I can just ignore them. _And_ if it's anything like last time we went out together, they'll leave me alone in a day anyway. I'm boring."

At that he rose, retrieved the iPad he'd laid on the counter and entered the password. 0910. Her birthday. Was it a coincidence? She didn't know nor did she have the time to think about it because he thrust the tablet at her and flipped through page after page of the two of them. There were pictures and accompanying articles all of which were speculating her importance to the 'Bad Boy Billionaire of the US'.

She looked up at his serious expression and swallowed but said nothing. "It gets worse," he said and clicked a few buttons until a list of forwarded emails pulled up, all with the same subject line.

'URGENT-ARS Security Issue'

"These are emails my tech team has forwarded to my head of security because they were deemed credible threats against your safety. Now, while I don't pretend to be, nor do I want to be a celebrity, I _am_ worth a lot of money and if you are someone I'm willing to go out in public with, then the logical assumption is that I care deeply about you. Which translates into cash. Whether it be for pictures or interviews or God forbid ransom money, you are now a commodity. I cannot protect you from that if you refuse my help."

"Ransom?"

"Yes. Ransom. As you can see my team takes this seriously. Since that first Wednesday we went out in public, there has been a handful of emails specifically about you. That, Ms. Steele, concerns me." Her world was spinning as she thought about what he'd just said.

"You're actually afraid someone would try to take me thinking you'd pay ransom money?" It seemed so…Hollywood. So unbelievable if she hadn't known that things like that really did happen...

"Yes. I do. And I would pay whatever it took to get you back safely but make no mistake, this isn't about money. I don't give half a shit about money when it comes to those few people I care about but if someone is going to go to the lengths to take you, I imagine they'd do pretty much anything to you while they had you."

_He cares about me? And wait, what? They'd do anything to me?_ Violent images of distant memories flashed before her in rapid succession as she struggled to keep from throwing up out of fear.

She blanched. Went white right in front of his eyes but he was sure it wasn't because of what _might_ happen to her. It was because of whatever _had_ happened to her. His fists tightened into balls so tight his hands went numb, the metallic taste of rage flooding his mouth as he watched her struggle to contain her fear.

"Ana?" he ventured after a few more seconds. It took every bit of his effort to not gather her into his arms and comfort her like a child. But he knew, better than anyone, that being touched sometimes made it worse. So he waited and said her name one more time, softly and carefully until her eyes focused on his and she blinked as if waking from a dream.

"I agree to security."

Her voice was so small, so unsure that it tore him up. Inside he cursed. Being with him was forcing her to revisit shit that she clearly didn't want to deal with. Being with him left her vulnerable to the memories of whatever it is she endured. Being with him left her open to more harm.

"I'll have Mr. Sawyer maintain the distance we originally agreed upon so that you can maintain a certain level of privacy." She smiled brightly, coming out of whatever fog she'd just been trapped in.

"I would appreciate that."

"That just leaves us with your schedule then." He opened the calendar on the iPad and offered her his electronic datebook, flipping to January and February. "As you can see, I have three big trips coming up, two in January to New York and Brussels and one in February to Hong Kong. I also have a number of smaller trips that will require my staying over night."

She was shocked at how busy he was. Business meals were in blue, meetings in red, calls in yellow, networking events in green, speeches in gray, trips in orange, personal obligations in purple and her name, Anastasia in pink. Every single day except Sunday was covered in an array of colors from as early as 5:30 until late at night. How he managed to live like this, almost every waking hour of the day dedicated to someone or something else was beyond her.

_No wonder the guy can't relax. _But then she took note of how every day was covered in a rainbow except the days that she was with him. Friday at six until Sunday at two was entirely pink with the odd yellow strip indicating a call. She covered her mouth at the amount of time he'd blocked off for her, shocked that he'd made such an effort to keep their time their own.

As if reading her thoughts he flipped the calendar back to before they had met and showed her his weekend commitments. Totally covered just like the other days of the week.

"As you can see, my time with you is a priority." She couldn't help it, she smiled so big it hurt her cheeks.

_Breathtaking._

"When did you last have a submissive?" He grinned, thought for a few seconds and flipped back to March. It looked the same as before she'd come around. For a second she was confused, if he had had a sub why was there no indication of it?

"Which color was she?" she asked. He grinned again and shrugged.

"I've never assigned a color to anyone else. My time with them was never that important to me." He leaned back. "You, on the other hand, Anastasia Steele, have me clearing large blocks of time so that I can watch movies and play Uno. Which, by the way, I think you're cheating at because nobody gets that many draw fours in each game."

She laughed and drew her legs up onto the chair to get more comfortable. This evening had gone from being filled with trepidation and fear to being fun.

"One, I do not cheat on anything or anyone and two, I'm touched that you gave me a color, Mr. Grey." Her hand reached out and touched his lightly, the slight contact causing the electricity between them to surge. He returned her smile and squeezed her hand, the easy interaction between them finally settling back to normal.

"Good. I value time as much as I value money and you are worth making time for. I've asked Andrea, my assistant, to clear out Wednesday nights starting in January in the hopes that you'll agree to add that day on."

"How about every other Wednesday?" She could feel it, the pull to want to be in his company all the time. The fear that he would find another and replace her if she couldn't meet his demands. Her time was valuable too but not in the same way. Her time, away from him at least, offered a modicum of protection for her heart.

He was pleasantly surprised by her quick acquiescence. He'd have taken anything. Twice more a month was a good start and one he wasn't about to say no to. After all, getting what he wanted was something he was good at. The best really. And what he ultimately wanted was for Anastasia to live at Escala so that he could be with her and have her whenever he wanted.

_Baby steps, Grey. _

"Every other Wednesday to start with is satisfactory though I would like to revisit that when we sit down after our trial period is over in a month." He sounded sure but he was anything but. God damn the lines between them were so blurry it pissed him off.

"What more do you need from me?" he blurted out before he could filter it. _Anything, anything you want, just stay. _

_Don't let me see the hurt behind your beautiful eyes or the shame you feel when I see your scars. Don't make me laugh with stupid jokes or pick movies you know will please me. Don't kiss my temple so sweetly that my stomach flips and I hope for a future with you. Don't let me fall in love with you, Christian Grey. _

"So long as you don't treat me like you did last night again I'm fine."

"So, we're good then?" he asked, unsure as to how this whole...compromise shit was supposed to play out.

"Yes. We're good, Christian."

He raised his glass, she raised hers and they sipped in silence, the mood slowly shifting, the tension dissolving only to be replaced by something more familiar to them both.

"Ten minutes, Ms. Steele. And don't think, for one second, that you're entirely off the hook for last night. Because you're not. I paid my penance all night and all day today as did my staff." Her belly tightened, the muscles in her legs tensing at the desire to feel him against and inside her again. "I won't punish you for my gross misconduct but I do think we both need a reminder as to the nature of this arrangement."

"Yes, Sir," she said, head bowed and hands crossed in her lap. That is _exactly_ what she needed. A reminder. She waited until he had gone towards his bedroom before rising and running up the stairs to her room where she stripped naked and then rinsed her body in the shower.

In the red room she yanked her hair out of the quick bun she'd thrown it in and braided it quickly, finishing just as Christian opened the door and walked in. Focused on his task he searched through the thousands of songs he owned until he found the song he wanted, a low chuckle emanating throughout the room as soon as he hit play.

She recognized Metallica's 'Fade to Black' immediately, her mind running with the possibilities. As he stood in front of her, one hand resting on the crown of her head she lost herself as she so often did in the natural rhythm of the music that she loved so much. Before he even reached for the flogger she knew that he would use the drum beat of the song as his driving motivation, the sensual undertones and heavy words of the song perfectly adding an element of disquiet.

An exquisite punishment if she were lucky.

He motioned her over to the couch and sat with his legs open for her so that he could study her as she waited for him. Legs spread, palms up and on the knees, her head down in total submission. Absolute perfection. Curves in all the right places, those soft lines, gentle slopes and hidden valley's calling to men since the dawn of time.

He may be a Dominant and he may run half the world but when it came to the pleasures offered by the female form, Christian Grey was nothing more than a mortal man.

_It's a pity she won't cum tonight,_ he thought, resting his head back so that he could imagine the scene he'd planned. He'd never had to withhold an orgasm from her before but Ana needed the reinforcement of his authority over her and if he were honest, he wanted to know that a part of her needed him. Her climax, the way she moaned, the way her eyes glazed over as she panted incoherently as she fell over the edge was the sweetest part of their time together but he'd forgo that pleasure to prove a point no matter how much he wanted to see it.

Tonight they would reinforce their new arrangement. He needed it. She needed it.

Just before the music faded he took her hands and tied them behind her back with a black ribbon before leading her to the center of the room. Under her knees he placed a thick piece of sandpaper before tying her ankles with another black ribbon.

"Does your lip hurt, Ms. Steele?"

"No, Sir."

"Then open your mouth, Anastasia and look at me. You are not sucking me off." The crown of his cock passed her lips and touched the tip of her tongue. "But I _am_ going to fuck your mouth." And he did. At first he was slow, reveling in the view from above as his dick slid in and out of those pretty pink lips. He pushed in past the back of her throat until she gagged and then pulled out, her gasp of breath somehow satisfying. He was big enough to gag her. Not that he didn't already know that but the visual was nice anyway.

"Did you know," he grunted, "that the proteins in my cum will enter your bloodstream?" Her eyes widened as he inadvertently gagged her again. "That means, Anastasia, that in a few hours I will literally be circulating around your heart." He groaned and came, shooting his load onto her outstretched tongue. "Now swallow. All of it."

_How intimate,_ he mused while he watched her, _the exchange of fluids between two people._ He'd never really thought about it but now, knowing that part of him would flow through every part of her, it pleased him. To be with her like that, to have her accept a part of him so openly, it made him feel...comforted. Accepted. _Owned_.

Which in turn brought on a mild panic attack. "Stand." She did, letting him tie her bound hands to the carabiner that hung from the grid on the ceiling. With a flick of his finger he untied the ribbon around her ankles and ordered her to spread her legs. Again the song began. "Close your eyes, Anastasia."

Against the smooth skin of her back he ran the handle of a leather flogger. "I can't wait to watch this porcelain skin turn pink by my hand."

When the first blow rained down she arched away from him on instinct but the sensation of suede and silk was far from painful.

The song, about five minutes in length ran from beginning to end, his gentle passes over her skin lining up with the more genteel parts of the song. Ana knew the song well, her body ready for the heavier blows he would rain down on her during the chorus but it was during the bridge that he'd unleashed his anxiety, striking her from shoulder to knee, breast to hip until she winced, the gesture a tiny one but one he noticed immediately.

His hand dropped, his chest heaving but controlled. Under his ministrations her skin had turned the most tempting shade, the lines left where the flogger had met her back and stomach a visual reminder as to who the Dominant in this relationship was.

She stood still, her skin on fire in that way that always made her feel the most alive. It was a strange sensation; to be grateful and ashamed, to feel dirty but cleansed. To feel exhausted yet recharged.

Christian felt the shift in her, the underlying peace that transcended her entire body when he glided his hands over her pink skin finally resting on her hips. With one hand he lifted her leg so that she was balanced on her left foot and entered her.

She trembled, he paused. "You are not to cum, Ms. Steele." His words were stern enough for her to hear through the fog of her submission, the whispered, 'Yes, Sir' all she could give him. Bending his knees he drove in again, her right ankle resting against his ear. She'd never had to focus so hard on balance before but it took her mind off of the orgasm that threatened to take over.

She was flawless, her skin hot under his hands, her eyes glazed over with lust and satisfaction, her pussy wet and willing.

_Shit do I want to watch her climax_, he thought, his cock swelling at the memory. _Damn,_ he thought, _I'm punishing myself._

But he'd given the command and that was that. This was for his pleasure only and he would follow through no matter how badly he wanted to feel her tremble in his arms.

He came without a sound so as not to disturb her in her trance like state and then untied her hands. She collapsed against him, her head falling onto his shoulder when he lifted her and carried her to the bathtub in her room.

There he bathed her with soaps and oils that smelled like toasted almonds and brown sugar. He snickered, curious as to why women were so obsessed with smelling like food and why men were so turned on by it. When he was finished he rinsed her and dried her off, rubbing on the arnica cream that would ensure her a painless night and then carried her to her bed.

Convinced she was asleep he went to his own bathroom and showered, noticing the scent of his own body wash for the first time. Spicy and woodsy, masculine to her feminine. He felt the hard planes of his chest as he washed, remembering the soft flesh of her body before scoffing. If there was a God, the female form was his single best creation.

Later that night in his study he called his satellite offices in Asia and Eastern Europe, checking in on a few smaller projects and keeping his managers there on their toes. At two he brushed his teeth and then stood at the foot of his bed, the size of it somehow bigger than it was last night. Was she sleeping still? He should check on her after such an emotional conversation and such an intense session.

Outside of her door he knocked lightly but no answer came from within. When he entered, though the space was still part of his home, he felt more settled than in his own bedroom. She lay in the center of the queen sized bed, her hair still damp in a loose bun atop her head. He'd not dressed her and she'd not argued so he knew that under that thick down comforter her naked body was waiting.

It was impossible to resist.

_Just a few moments,_ he promised himself, _to ensure she's alright._ He stripped off his socks and climbed in behind her, one arm sliding under her neck, the other resting on her hip to pull her close. Through the thin fabric of his t-shirt he felt her skin, warm and soft and inviting._ Yup, definitely His finest miracle._

On a sigh she settled back into him, one of her hands gripping his arm and drawing it down between her breasts so that her mouth rested on him, her breath steady and pleasingly reassuring. He relaxed then, _really_ relaxed. They had survived whatever that argument had been and had somehow come out on the other side of it still intact. Stronger even.

It unsettled him a bit to know that had that been any other sub, hell any other _person_, they'd have been cut out and blacklisted by him without ceremony or second thought. But this slip of a woman with the soft voice and kind eyes had not only gotten away with it, he had actually been impressed by her fortitude. He smiled against her shoulder and then kissed it, her sleepy murmur a balm to his soul.

A few minutes turned into a half an hour which somehow turned into the night because he woke to the harsh rays of sunlight in his eyes. The clock on the bedside read 8:43. Taylor would have figured out by now that their morning run had been cancelled and he didn't have any business obligations until closer to 11 so when she pressed her naked ass against his morning erection, there was nothing holding him back from what he really wanted.

To see her cum. Denying her last night had been part of the play but it had left him wholly unsatisfied. He bit her shoulder gently, pinching her nipples at the same time until the sleeping beauty in front of him stretched one arm above her head, freezing when she felt the man behind her.

"Mr. Grey?" her voice was husky with sleep and sexy as hell.

"Shhh," was all he said, the strangeness of having slept with someone and subsequently waking with them more than he could process right now. "I want you," he murmured against the back of her neck.

She groaned and nodded yes as her body readied for him. She was always ready for him. Always wanting. Always waiting.

With his free hand he pulled his flannel pajama pants down and slid into her from behind, lifting her leg to drape over his so that he could rub her clit with the pads of his fingers. "I want to feel you cum, Ana." _Fuck, so hot and wet and good. So unbelievably good._

Her nickname. She loved when he said it. Had it been intentional? Was he struggling to keep things separate like she was or was it all part of his game? Right now, so long as he continued to slowly thrust into her and rub her clit like that, she didn't really care all that much.

The hand she had been holding all night grasped her breast, holding it still as he slowly moved behind her but it was the way his face buried in the curve of her neck that had her barely holding on. It was so intimate, so, dare she say it, _tender_.

"God you feel so good," he whispered against her skin, his teeth nipping the top of her shoulder again before he turned his face back into her scent. Never had he held someone so close and never, ever had he wanted to hold them even closer. He literally couldn't get enough of her no matter how many times he took her. No matter how close he pressed his body to hers.

_What in the fuck is happening to me?_

She reached back and gripped the back of his head, the knot of their bodies complete when her fingers tangled in his hair. He loved it, reveled in it, wanted more of it. The pressure of his fingers increased and she tensed, the grip around his cock so incredibly perfect when she came that he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth gasping for breath against the smooth skin of her neck.

His hand loosened on her breast just as her hand let go of his hair and fell to his hip to keep him there a moment longer. Neither one of them acknowledged the enormity of this moment, the silent exchange that had just taken place. The way their heartbeats fell in synch with each others.

Lustful satisfaction mixed with confusion and fear. Her for her heart, him for his control.

But fear be damned because neither one of them could pull away no matter how many questions lie between them. Entwined they fell asleep again waking at noon only for Christian to realize he'd missed his call entirely. He made to get up, pissed off that he'd let sex get in the way of business but then Ana stretched her lithe body against his and sighed with utter contentment and, well, he relaxed against that tight little body and closed his eyes again.

He just didn't give a damn about that call anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors note: You readers are the best readers on FF. Thank you all so much for your encouragement and your investment into this and Slow and Steady. Some of you write reviews so beautifully I want to encourage YOU to write a story on here. I think you just may surprise yourselves! Let me know when you post…**

**Check out my pinterest for the lingerie at the end, link is in my profile.**

* * *

"I'm sorry, you've got to be cheating," he growled out, tossing his handful of cards onto the coffee table between them. "Nobody gets that many good cards. There aren't even that many draw four's in each deck!"

Ana laughed, the satisfaction of having beat Christian at something almost as satisfying as the way he was struggling to get up from the floor. Why they were sitting on the rug instead of any number of the plush furnishings around them wasn't important. What _was_ important was that in four games over the span of an hour, Christian Grey had had his ass handed to him each time.

"I swear I'm not cheating! Who cheats at UNO?" she teased, his one brow raising in response.

"I don't know, Ms. Steele. You tell me."

She giggled and stood up to reheat their drinks, a thick blend of hot chocolate and cream that had rendered him speechless when he'd first sipped it. Despite the sleet hitting the wall of windows and the fact that he was in boxers and she only had on a silk robe they were warm and cozy. Tucked in for the night with a blazing fire, a few mugs of hot chocolate and the lingering heat of a sexual liaison that had made her cum so hard she had seen stars, things couldn't get much warmer.

"Do we have any more of those mini-marshmallows? The colored ones?" he yelled out as he shuffled the deck, discreetly counting how many cards there were.

_She has to be cheating. Has to be!_

"Colored marshmallows are disgusting. I've told Gail not to buy them anymore," she said haughtily when she placed his steaming mug in front of him.

"_You_…told _my_ house manager…_my_ house manager, not to buy something?"

"Yes," she nodded with conviction. "I did. Those are filled with horrible things that are terrible for your body. Here, I've made you homemade ones. They're much better."

He tipped his mug to find two huge white clouds melting prettily in a sea of chocolate.

"You _made_ marshmallows? When?" he asked. "And how?"

"When you were on your call. As to the how, a lady never tells her secrets."

She'd needed something to do while he had made the call that he'd missed from sleeping in that morning. She'd not brought a book with her since she hadn't been sure if she'd be staying when she came the night before and she'd been so happy when she woke to him behind her this morning that when they did finally get out of bed, she couldn't sit still anyway. She'd been positively giddy all day.

She giggled at him, the sight of a billionaire CEO stirring marshmallows into a cup of hot chocolate in his underwear too cute to pass up.

"What?" he asked, his lips still pursed out.

"I was just thinking about how cute you looked like that."

"Cute?"

"Yes, cute. Adorable actually." He blushed and dropped his spoon into the mug with a small splash.

"Cute is how one should describe kittens and puppies. Adorable is how my sister describes the way our neighbors daughter looks after eating cupcakes. I, Ms. Steele, am a man. A strong," he lifted his arms to show his biceps, "virile," then rose to his knees to show her his bulge, "man." She giggled, couldn't help it.

"You're still adorable."

He lunged at her, the low growl emitting from his throat met with a shriek when he tackled her into the couch. With a laugh she twisted around to get away from his grip but he was far stronger than her. Without thought he gripped both of her wrists in one of his hands and lifted them high above her head, his hips wedged between her legs.

"Stop," she wheezed out between giggles as he nipped at her neck. "Stop," she repeated, the far away tendrils of fear beginning to reach for her. He nipped at her again, her body going still beneath his. "Stop," she pleaded, the edge of panic causing her body to go stiff and his heart to crash against his sternum.

Immediately he lifted himself, releasing her hands and sitting on his heels. Her robe had opened to reveal one breast, her chest heaving as she tried to calm herself. Carefully, eyes on hers he closed her robe to give her privacy and gently rested his hand over her heart. He was so much bigger than her, so much stronger, so much more physically able to overpower her in an instant.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her lashes falling to cover her eyes.

"Don't be," he said quietly. "You've done nothing wrong." He waited until she looked up at him, her blue eyes dark and stormy. "You're safe with me, Ana. Always. No harm will ever come to you so long as you let me protect you no matter how long that may be."

For a minute neither of them moved. He stared at her, waiting for her to say _something_, anything that would give him insight into the missing years of her life he couldn't put together.

But Ana hadn't spoken about it in years and she had no intention of starting to now. It was a struggle to keep those demons away, an even bigger struggle to plow ahead with the life she was determined to live. She did well, she knew she did because she knew enough survivors to know that she was one of the lucky ones. Her parents told her it was because she was so strong but they weren't there when moments like this would literally steal the breath from her lungs and freeze her with fear so great she worried she wouldn't survive it.

It had been so long…so damn long and still her hands trembled and her mouth went dry when a man touched her outside of the boundaries of the lifestyle. Would she ever be normal? Would she ever be able to live without the lingering terror of violence? Would affection always have to be within the safety of contracts and negotiations?

"Ana?" he called to her softly, so softly it made her heart seize. She raised her eyes to his again, the gray so serious and intense that it made her gasp. "What happened to you, Ana?"

_Oh God, no, please no._

He read the fear that flashed across her face, saw the tremor that ran through her body and felt the rage that bloomed in his chest take root into something sinister. He'd find out and they would pay. Whoever it was, however many of them there were, wherever they resided…he'd ruin them, torture them and end them.

"Ana," he pleaded. "I can fix it, I just need to know what happened."

She shook her head, her eyes burning with the effort to not cry. She'd never, ever shed a tear over what happened to her again.

"I'm fine, Sir, just tired."

He sighed, tugging at his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. "Christian," he said, moving his hands to his knees.

"What?"

"Outside of the playroom, I want you to call me Christian."

He pinned her with his intensity but she answered with a smile, the joy of it making the ache in his chest a little less severe.

"OK. Christian."

He exhaled long and low and rose to his feet, pulling her with him to embrace her against his chest. "I don't know what happened or who did it but when you're ready to talk about it, I want to hear it. All of it." _And then I'm going to take care of it for you._

For a moment she debated it. He'd told her about the nature of his nightmares and he'd allowed her to comfort him that night at the piano. He'd let her see his scars and then had told him what they were from before admitting that his mother had been a drug addicted prostitute. There was more to his secrets, she knew that much but at least he'd tried to be open with her.

And wasn't it time to talk about it with someone other than a therapist in a sterile room on an uncomfortable couch? Wasn't she ready to move past it and truly, _finally_ make peace with all of it? God it would feel good to tell someone, to say his name out loud and blame him for all she had lost. Never once, in any therapy session or conversation she'd had with her parents or the police or the medical professionals had she said his name.

But she felt so safe in the arms that encircled her as if he too had known true terror...maybe she could tell him... With a heavy sigh she turned her face inwards and brushed her nose on his chest, the tightening of his arms around her the only indication that she'd gone too far.

"Sorry," she murmured, pulling away to give him space.

_Fuck! Coward! You can't even comfort a hurting woman._

"Ana," he started, stopping when she looked up at him with a small smile. _Come back, let me hold you._ "If you're tired we can watch a movie." _Coward._

"Can it be a chick flick?" she teased, tossing the throw pillows back on the couch.

"Sure," he said slowly, a grin spreading across his face at the way she bent over to pick up the cashmere blanket they'd taken from her bed.

"Can it have Ryan Gosling in it?"

"Sure," he laughed. "I don't know who that is but my sister talks about marrying him every time I see her."

"Oh gosh, I've got to meet this sister of yours. Everything you tell me about her makes me laugh."

"You'll meet her at the New Years party." He reached for his mug and watched her so that he could gauge her expression. Did she really want to go or was this an obligation for her? Part of her job as his submissive?

"Can't wait." Halfway to through the door of the media room she stopped and turned, "The gentleman who I see at the salon, Franco, he said he was coming here to get me ready at six that night. Did you arrange that?"

"No, my assistant did but she did so at my request. I thought you'd like that. Don't all women like that?"

She laughed and sat down in the center couch. He'd had the room made to look like a movie theater and he'd watched a couple of movies with submissives in here but never had they made themselves so at home or looked so at home. He...liked it.

"Of course we do. It just caught me off guard. _You_ catch me off guard sometimes."

"I do? Like when?" he questioned, typing in Ryan Gosling into the search box of his movie library.

"Like when I went to go to lunch on Monday and my car was missing because you were having the tires winterized and the interior detailed."

_And the GPS updated so that I can find you anywhere._

"Or the time last week when you played that Spice Girls song on the piano and knew every word!"

"Hey! You knew the dance moves which is so much worse. At least I can blame Mia, you can only blame yourself!"

She laughed at him and pulled his hand onto her lap, clicking on 'Crazy Stupid Love' before intertwining her fingers with his. He looked down, startled at her boldness but enjoying it nonetheless.

"You're holding my hand."

With a blink she looked down and then back up at him, eyes bright and clear. "Yes, it makes me feel safe."

His chest exploded into a million pieces of emotion, the edges of his feelings so sharp he was sure they'd cut him and make him bleed. He cleared his throat and squeezed her tiny fingers.

"Then you should hold it forever."

She blew out the pensive breath she'd been holding and rested her head on his arm, chiding him when he choked on the handfuls of popcorn he kept shoving in his mouth. Neither one of them moved until the credits were rolling, both of them far too content to leave the other for even a moment.

With a stretch Christian hooked his arm around her shoulder and drew her close, exclaiming with a yawn that he hated the ending.

"Why?" she asked, her eyes stinging with exhaustion.

"Because he takes her back. She cheats on him, carries on an affair, leaves him and not only does he pine for her but he takes her back."

"You don't believe in second chances?" Ana asked, cleaning up the kernels that had fallen between them as Christian gathered up the drinks and boxes of candy she'd plowed through. The girl had one hell of a sweet tooth.

"Not for that kind of shit. You sleep with someone else when you're supposed to be with me and we're done. Finished forever."

For a moment she thought about it, pausing at the kitchen counter where he dropped all of their stuff.

"Why though? Sex is just sex, right? Why does it matter?" She cocked a hip against the granite and finished off the Whoppers. She'd play devils advocate if it meant climbing into Christian's mind.

_Sex is just sex?_ He hated that those words stung but they did. _What does that mean?_

At the sink he rinsed the mugs before loading them into the dishwasher and turned to her, the sight of him drying his hands on the kitchen towel so sexy it made her throat get all tight.

"I guess sex can be just sex," he shrugged. "It always has been to me. I don't know that I've ever had a contracted submissive be with someone else while they were with me but I don't know that it would have bothered me on an emotional level. I've shared plenty of women within scenes but it never got to me because in the lifestyle we've chosen, sex _is_ just sex." He kicked off of the counter and stood across from her. "I guess it's the lack of self-control that bothers me. I wouldn't want to be with someone who couldn't control their baser urges. You commit to someone, you commit to them."

"So you're angry at his character because to him sex was more than just sex." His hands rested on her hips as he thought about it.

"Seems that way. When you're with someone like that, in a traditional relationship, sex holds more meaning so yes, he's an idiot for taking her back after she cheated on him."

"Well then," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "it's a good thing you'll never have to worry about being cheated on since you don't do the boyfriend/girlfriend thing and therefore sex is just sex."

"No," he said slowly, a grin spreading across his face at the obvious trap she'd laid out for him. "I guess I don't have to worry about it." Mindful not to grab her and scare her like before he took a step back, tugging the sash of the robe open so that his hands skated over the bare skin of her waist and around her back. "Though I'd be _very_ angry if you were to be with anyone else."

"Angry?" she whispered, "Or hurt?"

Fuck she had him by the balls. It was a dangerous game, a carefully choreographed dance they were attempting to execute within the sterile walls of his kitchen. With force he pulled her to him, the heat from her exposed skin searing against his own.

"Engraged. Vengeful. Furious. Beside myself with resentment." His lips touched hers lightly while his hands lifted her legs around his hips. "And yes. Very, very hurt."

She smiled, another win in her favor. Even a fool could see there was more than just sex between them. "I would never do that to you." His hands gripped tighter.

"Nor I to you, Ana," he promised.

"Because sometimes it's more than just the physical," she trailed off, her lips brushing against his. He shivered.

"I'm beginning to understand that."

"Take me to bed, Christian," she spoke softly, his legs obeying immediately.

At the top of the stairs he hesitated. Left to the playroom, right to her bedroom. What did he want? Where was this going? Where had the boundaries between them gone? So much confusion and fear of the unknown. But then she lifted herself slightly, the heat of her sex pressing directly over the head of his dick.

_Her room is closer by a foot._

The robe slipped off her shoulders, satin against skin. Gently he lowered her to her to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers even when he pushed his boxers to the floor and kicked them off.

"Hands above your head, Ana," he ordered much to her dismay.

"I won't touch you," she promised but he shook his head. From behind was one thing but to leave her hands free when they were face to face was just too great a risk for him.

"I can't," was all he said, looking away when he saw the disappointment flash in her eyes.

Without a word he bound her hands with the silken sash before tying it to the headboard. Kneeling at her head he turned her face to him and rested the tip of his cock on her lips before sliding into the heat of her mouth. "Open your legs." With his fingers he pumped into her, one finger curled so that he could rub the small spot inside of her that would have her screaming against his dick.

"Oh…god…please…" He pulled out of her mouth but kept touching her, that liquid desire coating every one of his fingers, his palm, the sheet beneath her.

"Say my name, Ana," he demanded as she tensed, her body beautifully aroused.

"Christian!" she squeaked out just before she crested that wave of unbearable pleasure. Before he could demand it again she yelled it out louder, "Christian!" so that his heart stopped at the sound of it, his mind blanking out until she squeezed his fingers and convulsed in front of him.

With his hands under her shoulders he slid inside, her thighs covered with cream so that his hips made a soft smacking sound with each thrust. Under him she thrashed, caught in the undercurrent of never ending, almost painful pleasure.

"Christian, Christian, Christian," she panted, eyes closed to avoid the intense intimacy. She couldn't stop. Couldn't stop the flood of affection, the way her body did all it could to hold him closer, to draw him deeper, to welcome his intrusion.

_Oh fuck yes,_ _mine,_ he thought as she cried his name over and over against his temple. Their bodies were slick with sweat, her breasts gliding over the hard muscles of his chest. _Don't stop, don't stop saying it._

"Christian," she moaned again, his orgasm battering him without warning, the base of his spine burning with the sharpness of his climax. His teeth gritted, his eyes rolled back.

_Oh God,_ "Ana," he heaved out above her, the word garbled when she bit him with sharp teeth that made the pleasure so intense it knocked the wind right out of him. Like a fish out of water he jerked above her, his feet digging into the mattress to push himself deeper, his fingers gripping her shoulders to hold himself closer.

_So good...so good...so good._

Blackness fell.

* * *

In the morning, before he awoke Ana rolled to her side, the sight of the man behind her sleeping too great an opportunity to pass up.

_He rests._ She smiled to herself, allowing herself the luxury of staring at his stunning features.

Whatever had happened between them last night had knocked them both out until the early morning rays had begun to filter in. With a tentative finger she pushed a lock of hair off of his forehead and traced his jaw line._ Beautiful._

With a small snore he rolled back to expose his chest, the solid lines of muscle and bone so incredibly tempting to touch. Balling up her hand she moved back to avoid temptation and counted the scars she saw.

Six. Six perfectly round, silvered scars spread over the expanse of his torso._ How could someone do this to a child? Hurt an innocent like this? Had it all been done at once? Or over a span of time? Had anyone tried to help him? Get him medical attention? Had the pimp paid for the damage he'd done?_

"They're ugly."

She gasped, startled when his voice cut through the haze of her thoughts.

"No, they're not ugly. What _happened_ to you is ugly. Your body fighting back, healing itself and carrying on in spite of it is beautiful."

A pain unlike any other radiated where his heart lie. _Beautiful? Scars? Mine?_

"Did he…did he ever get punished? For hurting you?"

He blinked, startled by the way the sun reflected in those powder blue eyes that saw things so differently than he did. He saw her hand, fisted on her hip so as not to touch him and thought he saw moisture at the corners of her lashes.

_Tears? For me?_

"Uh, punished?" One hand brushed over his chin and then settled on tugging his hair as he tried to remember. "I don't think so. His name was Darryl. I remember that much but when they found me…" he paused, cleared his throat and sat up. "When they found me he was gone. My mother had been dead for a few days and he had been upset that she'd not made any money for him so when he came to beat her or whatever it was he was going to do and found her dead, he took what little cash she had in the apartment and then the police showed up a few hours later. I can only assume he was the one who had called them since nobody else knew I was there."

She sat up then, modesty forgotten as the sheet pooled around her waist and reached for his hand. _Dead? A few days?_

"You were alone with your mother?" He nodded, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Christian. I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"Yeah, well, I got a pretty great family out of it and was given the opportunity to have this life and subsequently to meet you so I guess it all worked out in the end." He sounded bitterly peaceful about it.

With one finger he traced his way up from her hip, over her stomach and onto the pink point of her nipple. With agonizing slowness he circled the soft skin there, marveling at its silkiness.

"I must say, Ms. Steele, there are definite advantages to sleeping in the same bed as you."

She smiled back. More than anything she wanted to know more about his past and how he became the man he was today but he was clearly finished with that quick jog down memory lane. With a sigh she rose and stretched, her limbs sore from the incredible workout they'd had last night.

_Last night,_ she mused as she walked to the bathroom, his eyes fixated on the way her ass jiggled with each step. _What had happened last night?_

As soon as she shut the door he sprung out of bed and made his way to his own bathroom. Whatever had transpired between them the night before had left his body sore, his heart light and his libido satisfied.

_Maybe I'll just stay with her in her room when she's here. I sleep better. Actually, I sleep like the dead, and it seems to make her happy as well. She already knows about the nightmares and I trust her not to touch me..._

He stood still and watched the suds rinse down the drain at his feet. He trusted her. She could have reached out and touched him this morning but she hadn't. She'd respected his boundaries, had met his needs even when she could have selfishly disregarded them and then had somehow gotten him to confess a painful truth that he'd buried deep.

What was it about her that had him forgetting all the rules? How did she get him to open up like that? To relive those horrors without the accompanying grief? What did she posses that no one else did?

All day; from the shower, to breakfast, to the playroom through lunch and a movie and then over the quick fuck they'd shared before he put her on the elevator those questions nagged at him.

_I need to figure it out. I need to know how she does it so that I can do it for her._

* * *

"You sure you don't want Ethan and I to drop you off? It's on the way to my parent's cabin anyway."

"No thanks, Kate. I'm not heading to Montesano until super early Christmas morning anyway." Ana smiled and folded another shirt into the suitcase before flopping on the bed and pinching her brows together. "Packing gives me a headache. I'd rather have a root canal than pack."

"Oh stop, you're so dramatic," Kate teased, finishing up the job for her friend before sitting behind her to braid her hair. "Are you spending Christmas Eve with Christian then?"

"Kate," Ana warned.

"I'm only asking because the idea of you alone on Christmas Eve makes me so incredibly sad I can't stand it. You are such a wonderful person that the mere idea of you by yourself"

"Oh my God you're relentless," she laughed, "Yes, I'll be with Mr. Grey. We're going out to dinner with his brother and his brother's girlfriend."

At that Kate Kavanagh stood up, back straight as an arrow and circled the bed. "Oh my God, Anastasia Rose Steele you have a boyfriend!" Her hands clapped together with glee while Ana rolled her eyes and stood to leave the room.

"He's not my boyfriend. We're going to his family's house on New Years Eve and he thought this would be a good way for me to ease into the fray."

Kate's eyes narrowed, hands on her hips. "So you're not dating him?"

"Nope."

"Is this dinner and this party a way for him to save face with his family then?" At that Ana stopped to think, shrugging after a few seconds.

"I guess in a way it is. I'm the first he's brought around as you know so maybe he wants them to think he's taken or something. I don't know Kate and I really don't want to betray the NDA so can we please drop it?"

Kate looked at her nails and pursed out her lips. "That doesn't make you feel used?"

"No, it doesn't. Now goodbye, I'll see you in two weeks. Have a good time, tell Ethan and your mom I said hello and tell you father I said, 'suck it you chauvinistic asshole'."

At that they both laughed, parting with a hug and a promise to have drinks when they were both back in town.

Across town Christian paced in the great room, willing his…submissive? Lover? Friend? To arrive sooner rather than later. Last weekend had been the best of his life, no small feat since it included very little BDSM and even less sex than usual. Sure, they'd done it a number of times but it had been different than anything he'd ever done before. Vanilla if he had to put a title on it. But what they _had_ done had been so profound, so shattering that the lingering effects had lasted for days.

But truth be told, great as last weekend was and great as their phone conversations over the last few days had been, he was ready to scene. Upstairs the music was cued, the diamond nipple clamps were out and the cherry red leather paddle was waiting to be used.

When the elevator dinged he shooed Taylor away and told him to take the weekend. Sawyer would be accompanying them to dinner Saturday night and would stand by in the security office for the duration of the weekend before following Ms. Steele to her parent's house.

"Christian," she greeted him with a smile, her cheeks still rosy from the cold.

"Anastasia," he countered, his lips finding hers before the front door had closed. "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Until then, I'd like to go upstairs."

Her lashes fluttered along with her heart, the slight nod in his direction barely noticeable. He followed her to the top of the stairs and took her bag, tossing it onto the bed in her room. She followed him in and began to strip until her eyes caught on the shiny acoustic guitar propped on a stand in the far corner of the room.

"Is that…" she turned, one hand over her heart as she turned back to the instrument. "Where did you…" but she didn't finish. Instead she went over to the guitar and knelt in front of it, eyes roaming over it as they grew bigger by the second.

"Is this a real Martin D-45?" Her voice caught in her throat as the realization of what he had found hit her full force.

"Of course it is. Do you think I'd buy an imitation?"

"No," she laughed out with a breathy giggle. "You wouldn't." Her hand extended much to his delight, the fingers trembling as they neared the grained wood. "May I?"

_God she's so cute and shit that blush just kills me._

"Of course." He waited until her hand touched the neck of the Martin, "You can do whatever you want to it. It's yours," he threw out casually.

_It's yours? Mine? It's mine?_

She whipped around, leaving the guitar resting on its stand and covered her mouth on a gasp. "Mine? What do you mean it's mine?"

He moved next to her, the carpet plush beneath his knees and kissed her forehead as she sat there stunned.

"I mean, it's yours. This belongs to you. Merry Christmas, Ana." He'd said those words his entire life. Merry Christmas. He'd given a hundred gifts, some worth millions. None of them held nearly the meaning this one did.

"I can't…I…this is a real Martin D-45?" He nodded again. "Pre-war?" Another nod. She knew her shit that much was sure. The man he'd hired to find and purchase the best guitar in the world was going to get a bonus check. Anyone that could put a smile on her face like that deserved some kind of acknowledgement. "I can't accept this, Christian! It's too much!"

He laughed and cradled her face in his hands. "You can, and you will. I'm happy to give this to you." He pulled away, face suddenly serious. "My only condition is that you play it for me at least once a weekend."

Her stomach dropped just as her head went fuzzy. She could do that for him.

"OK, I can do that." Turning she lifted it off of the holder and rested it on her lap, her fingers swiping over the strings with a reverence he found touching. "I can't believe you found one of these," she started, her face turning towards him with a shocked smile. "And I really can't believe you're giving it to me! I can never repay you for this, Christian."

His grin split his face. She already had, she just didn't know it.

"Do you want to play it now? Or can we go into the Red Room as you call it for a bit?" It was selfish, he knew that but he had to have her.

Sex was the last thing on her mind but she wouldn't tell him that. If Ana had it her way, she'd have sat on that floor for eternity playing the songs she'd come to love but if he went out of his way to find and pay for this, then the least she could do is give him an hour in the playroom.

Standing she replaced it in the stand and offered him her hand, pulling him up so that she could hug him. At first he tensed, the sensation of her facing him and being pressed up against him almost too much to bear but then she felt his arms come around her back and his lips kiss the top of her head.

"Thank you, Christian." It sounded so pitiful, so small, so insignificant compared to the gift he'd bestowed upon her but what it lacked in grandness it made up for in sincerity.

"You're welcome, Ana. It's truly my pleasure."

"Ah yes, Mr. Grey, Sir. About your pleasure…"

* * *

"You're fidgeting."

"I'm trying not to but you're leaking out of me and these thongs do very little in the way of helping the situation." She shifted, squeezing her thighs together, the mirrored walls of the elevator giving him the opportunity to see it from every angle.

"For the record, I love that part of me is still inside of you," he said with a wink.

"For the record," she said with a smirk, "you're technically not inside me anymore." Again she shifted. "And that's the problem. You couldn't have waited until we got back to the apartment?"

"Are you questioning my timing?"

_Oh good Lord he's impossible._

"No, Sir. Of course not. I was just teasing you."

He bit back the grin threatening to take over his face and escorted her out the door and into the foyer of the Mile High Club. The truth was, he couldn't wait. Besides her looking sexy as fuck in that fitted cranberry dress, he'd needed the sex to take the edge off of his nerves.

In his entire life he'd never even entertained the thought of introducing a sub to his family and he certainly hadn't ever thought he'd have a significant other to introduce so to be on his way to dinner with his current sub and his brother? Yeah, he'd needed not only the connection but the control and the calm.

"Mr. Grey, good evening." The host nodded once at the man in the fitted Armani suit and then extended a greeting to his date. "Ms. Steele, your party is waiting for you."

Her stomach was a mix of nerves, excitement and absolute dread. What if his brother hated her? What if his date hated her? What if they guessed what she was to Christian?

_What _am_ I exactly to Christian anyway? What does it mean to be here right now?_

The heavy drapes opened into a space unseen by the patrons of the restaurant. Inside was a round table with linens in golds and creams, the long candlesticks burning brightly against the reflection in the wall of windows. A man; young, blond and handsome stood up nervously and watched her as she made her way into the room, Christian right behind her.

She smiled shyly, his nerves lending her a small bit of courage. Christian had said he'd never introduced any of his submissives to anyone in his family but until this minute, Ana hadn't really thought about what that meant. They had never seen him with anyone. Ever. She, Anastasia Steele was the first woman Christian Grey had ever brought home.

"Anastasia, my brother Elliot Grey," Christian swept his hand forward and smiled, his hand on her lower back a comfort and an anchor.

"Please call me Ana." Elliot's eyes widened, almost in disbelief that she was standing here, hand extended, and real.

"A pleasure, Ana." Almost as an afterthought he waved his hand next to him. "My girlfriend, Paulina Dubrovnik. Paulina, you remember my brother Christian and his…friend Ana."

_Holy shit. Paulina Dubrovnik the model._ The very tall, very lanky, very gorgeous model was smiling at her with what could only be described of as disdain. Her eyes shot to Christian but he was having some sort of silent conversation with Elliot.

"Anastasia. Is that Russian?"

"My mother was a fan of Saint Anastasia. From the little she told me about her, she was Spanish so no, no Russian influence." The woman smiled that smile when one doesn't know what to say and then turned her attention to Christian. From her vantage point Ana was sure she pouted her lips a bit more, stuck out her chest just this side of obscenely and batted her heavily made up eyes.

"Christian," she purred as she leaned in to kiss his cheeks, "how lovely to see you again."

"Likewise. Please, let's sit."

As soon as they had settled in their napkins were placed over their laps, their wine glasses were filled with the wine Christian had chosen earlier, the maître d' suddenly appearing with four waiters who placed porcelain bowls filled with a rich soup in front of them.

"To start, a South African butternut squash soup garnished with roasted sage and Hungarian chilies."

She waited for Christian to start but good manners prevailed and the Grey men both waited until their respective dates lifted their spoons before they followed suit. Across the table Elliot watched the first woman his brother had ever shown any interest in as she sipped her pinot grigio, her delicate but beautiful features so startlingly youthful.

He'd done his research once Christian had revealed her name over the Thanksgiving holiday but without the right people, he'd only gotten basic information. The press had done a better job once they'd learned who she was but their interest in her was small as was any new information they had gathered on her. He'd tried to get his father to order a background check if for no other reason than to ensure she wasn't after his money but Carrick had refused, too excited by the prospect of his son dating that he was afraid to jinx it.

From what Elliot could see and the little he knew about her it didn't seem likely that she was a gold digger nor was it likely that she was looking to score a husband. Nothing about Anastasia Steele screamed cold or calculating which was more than he could say for his current fling.

Paulina had literally fallen in his lap at a club a few weeks back and had given him such great head in the bathroom an hour later that he'd asked her to dinner before her spit had dried. It had taken him less than two dates to figure out that she had known who he was and that she had planned their meeting but what he couldn't figure out was why.

But now, as he sat there and noticed the way she eyed up his brother and the way she so clearly didn't like the fact that he had brought a date, he knew her game. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had slept with him to try to get to Christian and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. He'd had his fun with the stuck up model, had even convinced her to bring a friend into the mix two weeks ago but now he'd have to cut her loose.

It wasn't that he minded being second pick, even though he did, it was that he needed to protect his little brother from anyone who might have an ulterior motive. So while she prattled on to Christian and Ana about her very busy modeling schedule Elliot Grey began to plan his escape. After one last threesome with her German friend Mirjam of course.

"So, Anastasia, what is it that you do here in Seattle?"

She looked up at Elliot and swallowed her bite of salad. She took him in. The blond curls, the square face, the slight cleft of his chin and the cute smatter of freckles over the bridge of his nose that would always make him look younger than he was. She liked him instantly.

"I teach music."

"Privately or in a school?"

"Privately though in the last few weeks I've begun volunteering my Tuesday nights to the Boys and Girls Club. Some of the teens have formed their own little band complete with percussion and strings and I have to say, they're pretty good!"

Christian leaned back and watched it all from the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her time at the Club to the way Elliot scrutinized every word.

"And you're the one who taught them?" Elliot asked, curious as to what it was Christian was getting himself into.

"Oh no, not just me. There's a team of musicians that go in throughout the week to donate their time to lessons. I go in on Tuesdays for guitar and vocals and then all of the instructors come and help out with the band part." She rested her fork on the plate and reached for her wine, thanking the waiter quietly as he took away her dish. "Their goal is to put on a concert at Alki Beach Park this spring to raise money for the center, they want a pool."

"Just ask your boyfriend for the money," Paulina said with a half laugh, the sound of her cackle as bad as nails on a chalkboard. For a few seconds the table was silent.

_Bitch. How dare you put him on the spot like that._

"They want to raise the money themselves, Paulina. It gives them something to work towards and it enables them to feel as if they're contributing to the Boys and Girls Club. Plus, teaching kids to work towards a goal gives them a sense of pride and accomplishment and frankly, that's what our agenda is. A lot of these kids have no real role models. Our goal is to make them see themselves as leaders. Teaching them a skill and then helping them to reach a goal with that skill is far more important than raising funds."

Elliot leaned back and raised his brows at her, impressed not only by her answer but the defensiveness at which it was delivered. So she felt protective of his little brother. _Good._

"And do you preform yourself? Or do you just teach? You know what they say, those who can't do, teach," Paulina bit back, embarrassed to have been so cleverly shut down.

Inwardly Elliot groaned. That threesome was so not going to happen because this bitch was out of his life the minute they left this table. He saw his brother shift forward, noticed the way his jaw ticked and his cheeks flushed and readied himself for the onslaught that was an angry Christian Grey.

"One day I'll put on a show since I've had so many requests from clubs and venues in the area but I've not found the right team to back me yet. I've been so busy growing my business and spending time with Christian." Her hand went to his knee, the effect immediately calming.

Elliot's brows raised even as his anger dropped. _Well holy shit, look at that._

Paulina stared at the brunette, took in the delicate features and the crystal clear blue eyes that even she had to admit were stunning and contemplated her next move. But then her gaze shifted towards her target and took in the way he looked at his date, the way he relaxed the moment her hand touched him, the way he smiled so easily and openly at her and she knew, no matter how badly she tried to paint Anastasia in a bad light, it wouldn't work.

Because the man who'd brought her here was head over heels in love with her.

"Well I for one would love to see both shows. Yours and the kids." Elliot said before turning the conversation over to business and work.

Over filets of the most tender steak she'd ever tasted and the most decadent bittersweet chocolate cake she'd ever eaten she learned a lot about the Illustrious Christian Grey.

He hated the Denver Broncos. He'd somehow never set foot in Canada. He won his Junior High talent competition both years by playing the piano and he loved, no, adored his older brother.

It had been a joy to watch him act his age for snippets at a time and even more fun to watch him react to Elliot's teasing. Paulina had all but been forgotten and had spent the rest of dinner nursing a glass of red wine, occasionally attempting to interject with a joke or a question. She'd been shot down each time by a sharp glare from Christian and Elliot's silence.

"Ana," Elliot started, kissing her cheeks before handing Paulina her coat. Bitch could put it on herself for all he cared. "It was a pleasure not only meeting you but getting to know you. I'm looking even more forward to New Year's Eve but I must warn you, I'm the easy sibling. Our sister will interrogate you so thoroughly you'll want to hang yourself."

"Yes, Anastasia. It was nice to meet you. I'll see you in a week at the party!" Paulina said excitedly while Elliot and Christian exchanged a look. No she wouldn't. She wouldn't be within a hundred yards of that party.

"Did you give her the bracelet and shit yet?" Elliot asked conspiratorially as they pulled on their coats.

With a glare Christian turned to ensure Ana couldn't hear and shook his head. "New Years. I gave her a guitar last night and frankly, if I gave her the jewelry on top of it, I fear she'd freak out. Money makes her uncomfortable." _Plus the diamond nipple clamps had made her eyes bug out of her head._

"Well," Elliot snorted, "she's with the wrong guy then brother."

When the drapes parted she was stunned to see that nobody was in the restaurant. With a quick glance at Christian she asked what time it was. Surely they hadn't stayed so late.

"Seven thirty."

"I feel so bad! We kept everyone here so late on Christmas Eve! They must hate us!"

At that he chuckled and steered her towards the elevators with a nod to the host. "Ana," he started, pressing her up against the wall of the lift so that he could cup the breasts that had taunted him all night. "I own this place. They probably fought over who was going to serve us."

_Wait. What?_ "You own this place?"

"MmmHmm." His hands just couldn't get close enough.

"What else do you own?"

"A lot." The sharp points of her nipples against the lace of her dress was making him crazy.

"List them. The things that you own." His hands fell away as he rubbed his forehead.

_Shit, there are hundreds of companies that I own._ By the time they'd pulled into the garage of Escala she was completely overwhelmed and bored as hell.

"OK, I get it. You're rich, you own a lot of shit and you're about to own more shit."

He laughed and pressed her against the wall of the elevator in his building. "Something about elevators and you, Ms. Steele."

"Clearly. Your hands always find their way to my chest when we're in one."

Against her neck he chuckled, her own giggle turning into a groan when he scraped his teeth down her neck and to the lace that covered her collarbone.

"I have presents for you too," she said huskily, the tremor in her voice betraying the desire she was trying so hard to ignore. His head snapped back, surprise registering on his face.

"You do?" She nodded. "Presents? As in plural?" Another nod and then the door dinged. He pulled her out as excited as a little kid at Christmas time and shrugged his suit jacket off, tossing it over the barstool in the kitchen. "I'm ready."

_Oh God he's so cute all excited and curious like this._

Apprehension gripped her hard, her confidence in what she had chosen to give him suddenly shredded by the fear that he'd find her gifts pathetic or worse, meaningless. But there he stood, a grown man in Armani, hand on one hip as he waited for his presents by impatiently tapping his foot.

"I'll be right back. Why don't you start the fire and I'll go get them."

Fast as she could she rinsed herself in the shower and then slipped on the first of three gifts she'd chosen for him.

When she came back down the stairs the fire was lit, there was a bottle of champagne waiting to be opened and the pillows had been spread on the floor. In front of the fireplace he stood, his tie loosened, the top button of his white shirt undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows. God he was so gorgeous.

His back to her he lost himself in the flames. _Was this ok? Was this too much?_ This felt an awful lot like a relationship, like, dare he think it, _romance_. He'd had subs over the holidays before. He fucked them, bought them shit and then sent them on their merry way before the morning came and he had to bide his time at his parents. Candlelit dinners and fireside chats had never been part of the equation.

The sessions around this time of year had always been the most intense for some reason. Maybe it was the rush and stress of year end at GEH, maybe it was the forced togetherness with family that only highlighted how much they didn't know him or maybe it was the fact that around him life seemed the most vibrant while his seemed the most muted.

Whatever the case, he'd dealt with this time of year by practicing intense BDSM with whomever was under contract at the time, barely skating through with his sanity by the time the year ended and the bleakness of January made him feel normal again. Whatever normal was.

But this year, the sex he'd always used to cope had morphed into something completely different as had his attitude about the festivities he'd always shunned. How that translated into this arrangement...relationship...whatever the fuck it was he had with Ana he didn't know. He just knew that when he wasn't with her he wanted to be with her and when he was with her he didn't care what they were doing so long as they were together.

_Fuck_, he thought, his hands pulling at his hair, _this is so fucked up. _I'm_ so fucked up. I need to dial this back before she gets the wrong idea._ But that would mean less time, less intimacy, less vanilla sex and hell if that was going to happen. With an inward groan he turned and

_Hooooleeee fuck._ His mind went blank, all conflict somehow resolving itself for the moment as he took her in from head to toe.

Coming towards him in red lingerie that somehow left little to the imagination while firing it up at the same time Ana walked towards him, hips swaying with each step, breasts bouncing just enough to make his mouth dry.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Grey," she said in the sexiest voice she could manage. In her hand she held a card and a small box wrapped in silver paper and topped with a holly sprig. Simple, elegant and beautiful. Just like Ana.

For a moment he just stared like an idiot before he regained a modicum of composure and reached out to run the flat of his palm over the exquisite lace that covered her torso. It looked almost painted on, so delicate and vibrant over her smooth alabaster skin.

"You like?"

"Oh, I like. Wow, Ana, you look," he blinked, his educated and verbose mind blanking out. "There isn't a word in the English language that could do you justice right now. Wow," he repeated while his other palm ran the length of her from hip to shoulder.

She guided him to the floor in front of the couch so that his back rested against it and then straddled him, careful not to catch the carpet with her five inch blood red heels.

"I'm not sure which one of these you'll like more but I'm going to save the one I think you'll enjoy the most for last." She reached for the card, the stretch just enough for her breast to peek out of the confines of the red band. On instinct his hand reached out, his fingers ghosting over the creamy skin until goosebumps covered her.

"I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy this the most," he smirked, one finger dipping below the lace to run over a pebbled nipple.

She smiled and handed him a card, the word 'Sir' written in formal and heavy script. Inside was a Christmas card, the picture that of a man and woman snuggled on the couch in front of the fire with mugs in their hands. It made him think of their last weekend together, a small smile spreading across his face at the sentimental value it held.

Inside she had written in her graceful script a short but poignant note.

**Dear Christian,**

**Though we've only known each other a short time, I have come to enjoy not just our time together but you as an individual. For reasons unknown to me, I feel safer with you than I do with anyone else and for that I am grateful. As a thank you for that and to prove to you my trust in you, I am gifting you with one full day of total power exchange. I will lift all but one of my hard limits, I will meet your every demand and take on your every whim. For twenty four hours, Sir, I will do, be and say whatever you wish.**

**Merry Christmas!**  
**Yours,**  
**Ana**

His eyes glittered with the possibilities. "You'll lift all but one…let me guess, that delectable ass of yours is still off limits." He said it with mirth and she answered with a smile.

"Correct. But the rest is yours to do with, or not do with, as you please."

"And I can cash this in whenever I want to?" Nervous energy shot through her at the way his eyes slitted and his fingers grazed her back. He'd already begun to plan it.

"Yes. Like the card says, I trust you." At that his fingers stopped and his mouth relaxed, the seriousness of the moment finally hitting him.

"As your Dom, there is no better gift than that of your trust. I take that very seriously, Anastasia."

"I know," she answered softly, her fingers resting on his groin though they longed to run the length of his chest.

"New Years Eve. From midnight the night before until the ball drops, you're mine." With a squeeze to her butt he pulled her closer. "All mine."

"I'm all yours with or without the power exchange, Mr. Grey."

"Christian," he corrected, slipping out of his Dom persona with ease. "This will be fun, Ana. The possibilities are endless."

With a smile she leaned forward and kissed him, her boldness shocking him so much he grabbed her shoulders to hold her back, afraid she was going to try to touch him. If it bothered her she didn't show it but instead reached for the small package, turning it over and over in her hand.

"This one…well buying you something made no sense and I thought that of anything I could make you this would mean the most..." Her blush burned a furious path over her chest and neck, the pink spreading across her cheeks when he reached for the box. "I'm rambling."

_She's nervous. Cute as fucking hell and nervous._

He took it from her, enjoying the way her bottom lip was being worried between her teeth before ripping it open to find a cd inside a clear case. He looked up at her, his heart racing in his chest and then back down at the cd itself.

"Is this you?" Shit he was going to tear up like a baby.

"I recorded a few songs over the course of the last few weeks that I thought you'd like. Some friends helped me out…you don't have to listen to it if you don't want I just thought…well you liked when I played that song for you that one night and you said I should record so I did. For you."

"For me," he repeated slowly, the words fighting their way past the ball of emotion in his throat.

"For you. It's the only thing I've ever recorded."

"And it's for me." She nodded slowly, so exposed and vulnerable she felt the chill of it on her skin.

He looked at her then, really looked at her and saw _her_, the soul living in the shell. He wanted to stay here forever, her warm body on his, her heart on her sleeve, her soul in her eyes. _This moment_, this small snippet in the span of his life was more profound than any other he'd ever had.

"Ana," he started, his voice catching so that he stopped to clear his throat. "This is, without question, the single most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. I will treasure it always." And he would, he knew that without even listening to it.

Her eyes met his, the heavy lashes falling to hide those secrets she kept hidden so deep. And because words seemed so insignificant and because he needed to hide his own soul he lifted her face to his and kissed her until her lips went numb and her lingerie was soaked through to his pants. She unzipped him, ran her hand along his length and pulled him free.

With the hook of one finger and the deft movement of one hand he slid her panties over and guided her over his cock, pressing her down until he was balls deep, the visual of her fully dressed yet so naked enough to make him thrust up involuntarily. Would he ever tire of her? Would he ever get his fill?

"I want to see you, Anastasia," he commanded gently, a flash of sadness in her eyes when he took her hands in his and held them behind her. He wanted to just let go, to just let her fingers and tongue go where they wanted to but he couldn't do it. With a pleading look in his eyes he apologized, her answering rock enough to chase the melancholy away.

That night, long after they'd showered and climbed into her bed he'd held her sleeping form until he was sure she wouldn't wake and had then rushed to the computer in his office, popping in the cd and sitting down at his desk with excruciating anticipation.

It was the voice he'd heard in his head a hundred times, the gentle undertones of feminine strength that had his heart lurching as he listened to her sing. He closed his eyes and let it all wash over him, soaked it up and digested it fully. Her talent was extraordinary but it was the unguarded view into her heart he found most profound.

She'd alternated instruments, a song on the guitar followed by another on the piano, the set ending with the song that had started it all.

It was all her. Raw, naked and vulnerable.

And though it was she who put herself out there like that, entrusting him to protect those soft layers of her soul, he was the one left gasping and exposed.

* * *

**On her cd to him:**  
**James Taylor: Fire and Rain**  
**Martina McBride: I Still Miss Someone**  
**Sheryl Crow: I Shall Believe**  
**Ray LaMontagne: Hold You in My Arms**  
**Duffy: Syrup and Honey  
Alison Krauss: My Poor Old Heart**  
**Zac Brown Band: Jolene**  
**Bette Midler: Baby Mine**


	11. Chapter 11

He'd downloaded her cd to his phone, his iCloud account and finally to a flash drive that he locked up in the safe along with his most important documents, photos and that small box he'd yet to look through.

Lingering over the faded Nike shoebox he exhaled sharply, slamming the door to the safe shut before walking away from the one link he had to his past. Grace had given it to him on his 18th birthday with sad eyes and a shaky hand. 'If you want to know more,' she'd explained, her voice drifting off until he could hear nothing but the blood rushing through his temples.

For nine days he'd left it untouched on the desk in his room only opening it one night after getting so drunk he'd pissed the bed. In the morning he remembered nothing about its contents but there was a new picture tacked onto the corkboard in the corner that hadn't been there when he had first lifted the Jack Daniels to his lips.

A young woman in what appeared to be a mug shot stared at the camera. Her hair was a muddy brown, her skin a sallow yellow but it was her eyes that made her striking. Gray and bright, the effects of her constant drug use not at all evident in the intense stare framed by lashes so thick they looked fake. His eyes, mirrored in the photo of the woman who had given him life and then had barely let him keep it.

When the hangover subsided he'd stared at the picture so long he was sure her eyes had started to follow him around the room.

That had been almost eleven years ago and while he'd been in his childhood bedroom a hundred times since then, he'd never, not once, looked at that picture again.

So why, on Christmas Day did he find himself leaning against the closed door of his old room, the photo six feet to the right still in the same spot he'd left it in all those years ago? Why today? Why now while his family drank themselves into the pleasant numbness of Carrick's famous cranberry martini's while they watched 'A Christmas Story'?

For what seemed like forever he stood there, a grown man afraid to open his eyes before he finally kicked off the door and turned, the eyes of his birth mother just as brilliant, just as entrancing, just as haunted as they had been all those years ago. According to the date on the back of the picture she'd been 21 when it was taken which would have made him two.

_Where was I when they took this? Who was caring for me? Was I alone even then?_

He stared back, his hands shoved so far in his pockets he was afraid he'd tear them.

"Christian?" his sister called from the hallway, a light rap on the door his only indication that Mia was on her way in.

He turned, busied himself with a book he must have left there at some point and waited for the questions to start. She strode in and looked around, flipping open the curtains and taking a look around.

"Mom hasn't changed anything. I keep telling her you're an old man and you're not coming to live back at home but she just waves me off and says she's keeping it for when you have kids."

"I'm not going to have kids, Mia." _Ever._

She swallowed back the disappointment and threw herself on the bed, sprawling out in an effort to get her older brother to relax and get casual as well. There had been a time when things had been normal between them. A time when all three of the Grey kids would sleep out in the living room to wait for Santa, a time when her brothers would play jokes on each other or would humor her and play a board game before heading out for the night.

Elliot was still up for anything but Christian, well he'd been pulling back since he was about 15, the reason clear once Mia had been old enough to understand just what that vile cunt had done to him.

For a while, when the truth had been forced into the open and her parents had basically cornered him and made him talk she'd been hopeful. He'd been so broken then, so vulnerable when it had all come out but then she realized it wasn't vulnerability she'd seen, it had been fear. Fear that his secret would be made public, fear that his family would shun him, fear that he'd lose the fledgling company he'd built from the ground up.

But then the news lost interest, Elena's picture stopped making the front page, the articles about her lining bird cages instead of fueling gossip. And since then, little by little Christian had pulled away again. Less Sunday dinners, less monthly lunches with she and her mother, less baseball games with Elliot, less boat days with Carrick. She still tried but the brother who had once snuck her up on the roof to show her shooting stars just got further and further away.

It had been hard on their entire family to watch Christian retreat into solitude but what had hurt was that he'd _chosen_ it. _They_ hadn't shut him out, _they_ hadn't excluded him from their day to day, _they_ hadn't loved him less. That had all been his decision. What started out as hurt had morphed into frustration and anger at the brother who could so callously cancel plans without any regard for those his actions affected. Lately her parents had stopped trying so hard thinking that maybe giving him as much space as he wanted would draw him back into the fray but all that did was allow him to be completely absent without any consequence.

But then he'd had his picture taken with a girl not once but twice and he'd not denied that they were at least _something_ so maybe…maybe this was it. Maybe she could get her brother back after all. Maybe he'd notice the pain in their mothers eyes each time he rushed out early from dinner or the way their father knew all of GEH's news just so he could have something to talk to him about. Maybe he'd leave his phone in the car for once and actually engage in a meaningful conversation.

"Elliot said he ditched that Paulina bitch." Mia couldn't keep the glee out of her voice.

"Did he now? I expected as much after her behavior last night." At that he turned and tossed the book back onto the desk, moving towards the door as she predicted he would. One on one conversations were too intimate for him so he avoided them at all cost. The man could command a room of dignitaries but he couldn't talk to his own sister.

"He said he met Anastasia too," she blurted out, instantly regretful of not having played it cooler. Now he'd never talk to her.

"Mia," he started, one hand on the door knob, the other running through his hair. "I thought it would make her more comfortable for New Years."

She gasped. He thought she was upset she hadn't been invited to dinner! Well, if she were honest, she was a bit put out but she understood her brothers and the weird dynamic they shared. No matter so long as they were happy and she could have some part of them.

"That was very thoughtful of you, Christian. I'm sure she appreciated it."

His hand dropped, his body turning towards hers to lean against the very same door he'd just pushed himself off of. He studied her, his finger tapping on the leg of his left leg while he thought.

"You think so?"

Inside she screamed with delight. He was talking to her? Engaging with her? She tamped down her joy and pretended it wasn't a big deal with a shrug.

"I'm sure of it. It makes girls happy when you think of them without having to be told to."

He snorted, "Well then she'd be thrilled since I think about her all the time."

Her jaw dropped but she caught it before he saw it. As lightly as she could she tossed a pillow behind her head and pretended to examine her nails.

"You like her." For a beat he said nothing. Just looked at his sister while he tried to work out in his head how to answer that. He did like Ana, there was no doubt about that and certainly the way he felt about her was different than anyone else before her but they weren't in a conventional relationship. Not one that he could explain to Mia at least.

"It's complicated, Mia." And just like that, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over his head he stopped talking, dropped his smile and pulled her up. "Come on, I think I just heard Grandma Trevelyan mention dessert and if you want any of that pumpkin pie, you'd better get there before Elliot."

And even though he'd barely said a word to her and even though he didn't seem any more within reach, Mia let herself hope that this girl, this pretty brunette musician would bring her brother back to her.

* * *

"It sounds amazing, Ana. I can't believe you wrote that in ten minutes." Josh shook his head and jotted down the accompanying notes onto the paper in front of him. "If we can figure out how to move it into four four time without it sounding clunky, it'd be perfect."

She sat next to him, her new Martin D-45 resting carefully across her lap and scribbled a couple lyrics onto a new sheet. "New song," she explained when Josh raised his brows at her in question.

He chuckled, "You've got a lot of them tonight. When was the last time you had this kind of mojo?"

Biting the tip of the blue pen she thought about it. "Never, actually. Coming up with a melody is easy, coming up with the lyrics has always been tough for me."

"So what's with the flow all of the sudden then?" Chase asked as he picked over the bass line, fine tuning a few timing issues.

"I guess I've recently been inspired," she shrugged. Josh, always taking the reigns and thinking it his right as lead singer of their little jam band stood and stretched before pulling her in a one armed embrace.

"Let's try it again but have Dylan play the rhythm guitar and you take the lead this time. That rift you came up with is killer."

For the next four hours she sat in the living room of her high school friends house and wrote, played, perfected and nixed song after song. Her resolution for 2012 was to preform somewhere live on stage. She'd always wanted to do it but when that nasty girlfriend of Elliot's had all but goaded her, she'd made a decision right then and there that she wasn't procrastinating any longer. _Screw her._

So she'd opened her gifts, had dinner with her family, played Scrabble with her parents and then cleaned the kitchen before heading out to Dylan's house to meet up with the friends that knew her before she could play a thing. This small group of people who ate, slept and breathed music had gotten her through the toughest years of her life without even knowing it. No one knew her secret even though they'd figured out pretty damn quick that she'd had one but instead of pushing her to talk, Josh had handed her a guitar and told her to play.

"Take it out on the strings," he'd encouraged, patiently teaching her the chords and finger positions that eventually became her salvation. When she surpassed him with her abilities he'd happily invited her to join them on a Saturday afternoon in his parents basement. She lived for those days. The times she and this ragtag group of mostly guys would sit around on lumpy couches and write about heartbreak as if their high school hearts knew what that was.

"Hey," Lauren whispered, "Paul's on his way over. He didn't want anyone to tell you because he was afraid you'd split but I thought it was totally uncool to spring him on you. Especially now that you've got a new boyfriend and all."

"He's not my boyfriend, he's just a friend but thanks for the heads up. I was going to head home anyway. Ray wants to go up to Olympia to hike early in the morning." She'd have pulled an all-nighter if it meant jamming with her friends but with her ex-boyfriend coming over, she knew the time had come to pack it up because if she was here when Paul was here and Christian found out, there'd be hell to pay.

With care she packed up the sleek guitar and snapped the lid closed, refusing help from the others to carry it to her car. No way in hell she'd trust this gift to anyone. At the threshold, after hasty goodbyes and plans for them to come to Seattle to rehearse once she found a venue and booked a date, she froze when a body she knew well blocked her exit.

"Hello, Ana," he said softly, his eyes somewhere between happy, sad and pensive. He always tried to see her, always tried to get her alone so he could catch up with her but so far she'd been good at avoiding him. It wasn't that Paul Clayton deserved her avoidance because in truth, he had been nothing but good to her; it was that he knew too many of her secrets, had seen her at her weakest and had been the one to make her face her demons in a way neither of them had been ready for.

"Hi, Paul." She shifted the case to her other hand and pulled back a bit when he reached out to help her. "How are you?"

He sucked in a lungful of air and knotted his hands behind his neck. She was going to run again if he didn't keep his distance.

"I'm good. Got a job on the floor at the NYSE with UBS so I'll be heading out to New York on Thursday." He noticed the way her brows raised, the way her shoulders relaxed a bit, the way she bit that lip he'd kissed so many times before._ God she's gorgeous. So beautiful and smart and talented and broken. So very broken._

And _that_ was why she couldn't look him in the eyes for any length of time. _That_ was why she kept her distance from him. Because he saw her as broken, always had, probably always would.

"That's awesome, Paul. You've been talking about that forever. What's your brother going to do?"

_She's conversing with me?_ "He's already hired a new manager and dad said he'd put in some hours each weekend to fill in the blanks."

She laughed, Mr. Clayton would be more hindrance than help. "I'm happy for you, that's really great," she offered sincerely. He stood there, blue eyes burning into her, over her, through her. Paul Clayton knew more about her vulnerabilities than any other human being on this planet but not because she'd told him much. He'd seen, firsthand, the psychological damage she'd endured. It was he who had made her believe that not all men were out to hurt her. It had been him who'd proven that real men wait and it had been him who had shown her that sex was something to be shared and enjoyed.

"I should get going, early morning and all, you know how Ray is with his winter hikes…" her voice trailed off into the cold night air.

"What about you? How are you?" _Don't go yet. I need to know that you're all right. _He'd tried so hard to fix her, so hard to love her enough to put her broken pieces back together.

"I'm good. Great really. Living the dream in Seattle with Kate, I'm sure you remember her from my freshman year at UDub." He nodded with a smile. Kate Kavanagh had been the one to really draw Ana out of her shell. It had been her obnoxiousness that had somehow made Ana feel confident enough to speak up for herself. Where he'd hit the wall with Ana, Kate had crashed through it and pulled her through it.

"Anyway, I teach music there and volunteer at the Boys and Girls Club." She pointed backwards with her thumb, "And the guys and I are going to put on a small show sometime in the spring."

His brows lifted with surprise. "Really? That's awesome, you've been talking about doing that for years."

She took a deep breath and went for it. If he'd seen her at her worst, he deserved some of her best too. "I'm ready to face all of my fears head on."

Pride and affection swirled in his chest. "I'm proud of you, Ana. So fucking proud of you." For so many years he'd worried about her...

She blushed and let him hug her quickly before choking out a hasty goodbye. He walked her to the car where Sawyer stood, arms crossed, the thin line of his lips indicating his displeasure. Paul knew who he was, figured it was that hoity toity big shot she was dating in Seattle's bodyguard. He'd seen the picture of her and Christian Grey over morning coffee at his mothers house, the biscotti he'd been eating suddenly caught in his throat at the shock of it. The irony of the girl he loved dating the man he had idolized was not lost on him.

"Take care of yourself," he said, slamming her door shut before giving Sawyer a smirk.

Not three minutes later the ringtone she'd assigned Christian was blaring in her ear. _Fuck. I knew this was going to be a problem._

"Merry Christmas, Christian!" she said cheerily in the hopes that he'd let the whole thing go.

"Just what the fuck are you playing at, Ana? Four hours in a basement with four men and then on your way out your _ex-boyfriend_ conveniently shows up?"

"I left the minute I heard he was coming. I didn't engage him in a conversation and I left as soon as it wasn't rude to…wait a hot minute. I never told you who my ex-boyfriend was." She swung to the shoulder of the road and flicked on the hazards. Behind her Sawyer parked in the SUV he'd been following her in all day. She gave him time to say something but he remained silent on the other end while her mind went into high gear in an attempt to remember every conversation they'd ever had about her past.

"Christian. I never told you the name of any man I've been with."

"I don't need you to! Did you think I wasn't going to pull a background check on you, Ms. Steele?" He was pissed, anger and jealousy and fear whipping through him like the blood pounding in his veins. "I know all of their names except that last one. Do you think I'm a fool? Do you have any idea how many money grubbing women throw themselves at me on a daily basis?"

Anger had taken root in her chest, the force of it enough to make her hands tremble and her palms to sweat. The background check she could forgive, she was a rational person. Of course he'd have pulled one on her. But her ex-boyfriend? And her Doms?

"How dare you," she breathed, the words like fire against his ear. "How dare you invade my privacy like that. How dare you invade _their_ privacy like that! You have no right looking them up." Panic flashed through her, _what else did he know?_ "What else have you dug up on me, Mr. Grey?"

He felt her anxiety, heard the question behind the question and cursed himself for having lost control of the situation. The last thing he wanted was to make her upset with him. The worst thing she could do would be to close herself off from him by burying those secrets deeper.

"Nothing, Ana. I know absolutely nothing else of a personal nature and on that you have my word." The silence on the other end was deafening. "I want to know what it is you're hiding but not because of morbid curiosity. I want to know because I care about you and I want you to trust me."

She fought it hard but the anger ebbed into something manageable when the words soothed over her ears. _He cares about me._ She heard the truth in them, felt the compassion and the regret at having frightened her.

"I left when I knew he was coming, Christian."

He sighed, his fingers tight around the crystal tumbler that held what he hoped would offer him a good nights sleep. Surely the nightmares would be back now that he'd stared into the eyes of the woman who visited him there. _I should never have gone upstairs to see her picture._

"Can you come back to Seattle tonight?" he sighed in defeat.

_Oh God he's sad._ She heard the melancholy even though he'd tried to mask it. "I can't, my father and I are hiking tomorrow and on Tuesday I'm meeting some friends for breakfast before I head back for my shift at the Club."

"Friends?" he spit out, afraid that her ex was one of those friends.

"Girlfriends, Christian." After a beat she pressed him, "Do you believe me that I left when I knew he was coming? Because you trusting me is just as important."

"Yes. I trust you, Ana." What he didn't trust was that Paul Clayton wasn't still trying to get her back into his bed.

He poured himself a double and sat on the edge of his bed. _Damn I am so fucked up over this girl._ For a moment he contemplated driving to her but then thought better of it, toeing off his socks in resignation.

"I can come by later on Tuesday after my time at the Club. It won't be until close to ten but"

"Fine. Ten is fine." Sweet relief washed over him. Two days. He could do two days.

"I'm sorry I can't be there tonight." She had to pull him out of the funk he was falling into. "I'd much rather sleep with you than Mr. Fancypants."

His brow quirked. "Mr. Fancypants?"

"My mother's cat. He's as old as I am almost and for whatever reason he's decided that he should sleep on my head whenever I'm home. So I wake up with swollen eyes, a congested nose and cat hair in my throat. You're much more pleasant to wake with."

He chuckled and tossed his pants and shirt into the hamper, climbing between the sheets with the phone against his ear, the scotch forgotten on the dresser across the room.

"Anyone else sleeping in that bed, Anastasia?"

"Nope, just me and Mr. Fancypants." The tension between them eeked its way south with each breath. "Did you have a nice time at your parent's?" He settled back onto the pillows, aware of how big and empty his bed felt around him.

"I did. They loved your cranberry walnut bread by the way. It got a better reception than the sapphires I'd bought my mother and sister. I could have saved myself sixty grand and paid you to bake instead."

She giggled, the sound of it soothing over those frayed edges from his day. "Speaking of which, you all but accused me of being a money grubbing woman not five minutes ago." She worked hard to keep the sharpness at bay but he'd struck a nerve.

"No, I said I had to protect myself from women like that. You, Ms. Steele, are the furthest thing from that kind of woman."

"You know who _is_ that kind of chick?" she said with disdain.

"Yes, I do. Paulina." Together they shared a laugh at her expense. From the remote on his night table Christian flicked the lights off, putting the spotlight on the black and white photo of her laughing he'd purchased from the gallery opening.

_So. Fucking. Beautiful._

Ana put the phone on speaker and pulled back onto the road to head home, Sawyer's car pulling right behind her. He heard her start to drive, knew he should hang up so that she wouldn't be distracted but kept talking anyway. He'd come to expect this nightly conversation as much as he'd come to expect the texts they shared back and forth all day long.

"She is the epitome of a gold digger. Elliot dumped her. His word, not mine."

"Oh yeah?" She didn't even try to disguise her glee. "Good, she was a pariah."

He laughed and closed his eyes. Damn he was tired all of the sudden. It didn't help that he'd slept for no more than an hour last night but he just couldn't stop listening to that cd.

"She was. He said she must have known she'd fucked up because as soon as they were in the car she went down on him. Or tried to at least. He was so pissed off he pushed her off, dropped her in front of her house and told her to lose his number and not to be crass but for Elliot to turn down head is a pretty big deal."

"Does he always date women like that?"

"Pretty much. I suspect one day he'll give a shit about who he spends his time with." Christian had often felt badly for the time that Elliot put into a woman only to find out that she was after nothing more than the Grey name, the money or, as was too often, the little brother. Elliot hadn't really seemed to mind when he could use his name or connection to Christian to get himself a good lay but Paulina had crossed the line by insulting the one woman that could potentially heal the Grey family.

By the time Ana pulled in the driveway he knew every gift she'd received and every gift she'd given. She'd promised to make some more bread for his mother and made him promise to ask her what she could bring to the party even though he told her over and over that it was a catered affair and that nobody was bringing anything. In his circle, people didn't do that kind of nice neighborly stuff.

He found it endearing.

A door slammed in the background as she got out of the car, a muffled, 'Good night, Ma'am' from Sawyer giving Christian the peace of mind to let go. "I'm home. Locked up and headed to bed."

Good, because he was halfway out already. _What time was it anyway? Barely midnight._ _Shit, Mia's right, I am an old man._

* * *

It had been one hell of a week between year end, the fiasco that was becoming the Mexico City project and the media presence of one Paulina Dubrovnik.

Scorned by Elliot and having hit a brick wall with Christian she did all she could to stay relevant to the paparazzi, first by being seen making out with Dave Navarro and when that generated exactly zero interest she started talking about her double date with Christian and Ana. Which had gone too far considering she'd signed an NDA even if she did think she was above it.

By Wednesday she'd been slapped with a breach of contract lawsuit by one Grey brother and a slander suit by another but Paulina Dubrovnik wasn't finished yet. Whether it was a mental illness or plain brass balls Luke Sawyer couldn't tell but there she stood outside of Ana's studio begging him to let her in so she could just talk, just explain some things, just work on the friendship they'd started. He suppressed an eye roll but couldn't help the chuckle.

Sawyer took her in, all 5' 11" of her and let himself imagine those long legs up around his shoulders and basked in the one perk of his job thus far. The women who threw themselves at these Grey guys may be crazy but they sure were a fine looking piece of ass._ Another few fantasy seconds won't hurt._ So he'd let her babble on while he pictured his dick sliding in and out of her collagen lips, all the while nodding and 'mmmhmming' at just the right moments. But then she'd gone and offered herself up on a platter if only she could speak to Ana for a few seconds and the fantasy was blown to bits. _Well damn._

This gig had started out easy enough. Follow the nice pretty girl around, ensure nobody tries to kidnap her or hit on her and sit. And sit. And sit. As much as he liked Anastasia Steele, protecting her was boring as hell. He got it, she was seen with a billionaire and therefore would be a target of either the media's or some crazy extortionist but even the paparazzi had proven to be nothing more than a minor headache. And even though this little blip with the model was nothing in the scheme of things he'd been ready to take the bitch out just for a little excitement.

Now here he was, her harsh Russian/New England/pseudo New York accent yapping away in his ear while he waited for Welch's team to come and take her away to the looney bin. _For fucks sake, if I had wanted this, I would've stayed married to Kim even if she was fucking her personal trainer while I was getting shot at half a world away._

* * *

By the time Ana got to Escala on Friday her nerves were shot to shit and her body was on fire. Claude had upped her daily workouts by a half an hour which translated into less sleep and more soreness but Christian felt it was imperitive that she learn basic self defence on top of her workouts. It had been foolish of her to go to her Pilates class after Bastille had put her through the ringer but she'd missed her friends so much that she'd suffered through it, her sides burning from laughing so hard.

If that hadn't been bad enough, she'd endured a never ending stream of phone calls from media outlets who were looking for a response to the interviews that Paulina had granted before she'd all of the sudden up and disappeared two days ago. Ana politely directed all calls to the PR team at GEH just as she had been instructed to do but after receiving a call from Tokyo at three in the morning, she'd relented and had agreed to have her calls forwarded.

Christian had sent over a new phone along with a new number and a $2k bottle of wine as an apology for her trouble. She and Kate had drunk it the night before with a $9 pizza and two Klondike Bars while watching reruns of Modern Family until midnight.

But what she really screwed up on was going to Franco's for a wax after work today.

_Absolute stupidity_, she chastised herself as the elevator doors opened to Gail standing there with a smile and a glass of wine. _I could get used to this._

"Hello, Mrs. Taylor."

"Good evening, Ms. Steele. Mr. Grey asked that I let you know that he's been called down to Portland for an emergency meeting that couldn't be put off."

She took a deep breath and released it slowly as she drank the rich Merlot. Was there any part of her that wasn't hurting today?

"Thank you for telling me. I received his text as well a few minutes ago. Did he mention to you when he would be back?"

"No," Gail answered, turning to go back to the kitchen where shortribs and polenta were waiting to be consumed. "I'm afraid he didn't but he just left in Charlie Tango a half hour ago so I would think he wouldn't be back until much later."

"Charlie Tango?" she asked, wincing as she sat on the stool.

"Mr. Grey's helicopter. He keeps it at SeaTac but there are landing pads on this building and also at GEH."

_Of course he has a helicopter. Bet he has a jet too._

"Is Mr. Taylor with him?"

"Yes, he is."

"Then have dinner with me. We can get to know each other. I feel like you know so much about me but I know practically nothing about you."

Gail Taylor blushed and then took a good look at the young woman in front of her. From the minute Ana had walked in the door she knew that this girl was different. Mr. Grey's demands over the last two months came as no surprise to her, she'd known from the start that Anastasia was a game changer. Suddenly he cared what she was serving on Friday nights and was concerned that certain snack foods be kept in the apartment so that Ms. Steele would have what she wanted at any time. He'd always been kind to her but he'd never really engaged her in matters outside of running his home but lately he'd taken an interest in the flowers she chose to dress the foyer with, the scented candles he suddenly wanted in each room and the blankets he wanted kept in the library.

She'd been shocked to find that he was sleeping in the submissive bedroom and shocked again when she had heard him laughing freely at something Ana and he had been talking about. The media room was being used, the fireplace was always on and the sounds of the piano were few and far between during the night anymore.

She'd seen a number of women walk through those doors over the years. All brunette, all slim, all fair skinned, all vying for the attention of their Sir. Some had been pleasant, some had been downright horrible but none of them, not one had come close to breaking through the guards Mr. Grey had built around his heart.

Until Ana.

"I'd love to have dinner with you, Ms. Steele."

"Please call me Ana," she pleaded.

"Only if you call me Gail when it's just us."

"Deal," she said conspiratorially.

They ate at the breakfast bar and chatted about Gail's first husband and subsequent marriage to Jason. Ana was surprised to learn that they had met on the job and that Christian had been the one to facilitate their elopement and honeymoon a few years back. She paid attention to details and did all she could to learn more information about what Christian had been like before her but Gail Taylor wasn't about to spill his secrets. Which was just as well because by the end of dinner, the women were laughing about ex-boyfriends and the universal stupid shit men do.

At nine dinner had been cleaned up and the women had changed into pajamas when Ana's phone dinged with a text.

**-Still here. Assholes can't seem to understand the meaning of fiscal year end. I'll text when we're ready to hit the air.**

**+I understand. I'm sorry you have to deal with this but I'll be here when you get back, whenever that may be.**

**-I want you in bed, wet and naked when I come home.**

**+Yes, Sir.**

**-I'd also like to remind you that my Christmas present is being cashed in as of midnight tonight.**

**+I remember. Looking forward to it, Sir.**

She signed off and grabbed the bowl of popcorn, following Gail down to the media room where they had cued up a movie.

"I have to say, I haven't had a girls night in forever. I've thoroughly enjoyed myself, Ana." And she had. It was easy to see why Christian had fallen for this young woman even if he hadn't figured that out yet.

* * *

"Fucking idiots every single one of you. It's ten pm on the god damned last business day of the fucking year and you still haven't finalized the balance sheet. Where the fuck are your long term liabilities? Where's your COGS?" He was on a rampage. Around him paper flew, coffee cups were snatched up just in the nick of time before being thrown across the room and angry tirades sliced through men and women alike.

Andrea had done all she could to prepare the staff at Levoro when word came down from Ros that their books were incomplete and therefore couldn't be relied on to close out the year which was catastrophic since their merger with Scape had been scheduled for today at ten am. Twelve hours ago. Management had gotten the phone call at close of business the day before and had spent the last 30 hours attempting to get their shit together but their efforts had come too little, too late. So when Christian Grey's direct assistant called to inform them that he would be arriving by seven that evening, they knew shit was about to hit the fan so they'd done all they could to prepare.

But nothing, no amount of pleasantries or high end pastries or blatant ass kissing could have prepared them for the wrath of Christian Grey. They'd heard about it, had thought they'd seen it three months ago when they'd dropped the ball on the first appendix of the merger documents but nothing, absolutely _nothing_ compared to what they were dealing with now.

The women who had primped and swooned when he first walked in were ragged and disheveled, eyes void of mascara after having cried in the bathroom at least once a piece, sometimes next to their male counterparts who were doing the same thing. The man wasn't just angry, he was downright mean.

It wasn't that he cared about a last minute business meeting. It wasn't that he was upset to have had to have flown Charlie Tango. It was that in his apartment, waiting for him under sheets of silk was a woman who dripped with feminine sin and these fuckers were keeping him from her.

"You, Connors," he pointed to the overweight man in the corner who had thus far proven to be the smartest of them.

"It's Conover, Sir."

"Whatever." He dismissed the correction with a wave. "Scan these over to the NY office and to GEH's legal department, someone has been there all fucking night to assist your team, and then call the rest of the staff in."

Conover scurried off as fast as he could, sweat pooling between the creases of his back. This wasn't good at all. He'd told them over and over that they needed to haul ass and get this done right the first time but nobody listened to him. Nobody ever listened to him and now he was going to get fired for it.

Christian took the moment of silence and texted Ana, pleased that she wasn't angry and more pleased that she'd be waiting for him. He was going to need a nice, hard, dirty fuck much like the one they'd shared in the playroom Tuesday night. Impatiently his dick twitched at the memory of her alabaster skin striped red where he'd taken the crop to it while she'd been restrained with a spreader bar over the bench. Despite his surroundings and the mounting frustration he was battling he couldn't help but grin when he thought of her. She'd been a bit hesitant to have her hands bound with electrical tape but...well, to say she'd enjoyed it in the end wouldn't be doing her orgasm justice.

"Black," he snapped at the young girl who had come in to ask if he'd like a coffee. What was her name? Sally? Susan? Sheryl? When she came back he asked her, her brown eyes blinking at him in surprise.

"Stephanie Perault, Sir."

"I don't see your name anywhere on these forms."

"No, Sir. I'm an intern." He hid his surprise. He'd ranted and raged at her along with the others but she hadn't cowered or stuttered out an apology. No more than 21 if he had to guess.

"Are you on payroll?" He took the coffee and sipped it, his fingers flipping through documents with alacrity.

"No, Sir."

He stopped, one brow raised and put the mug down onto the walnut tabletop. "You aren't on payroll, you're here after ten on the Friday before New Years and you've been the one doing all of the grunt work."

"Yes, Sir. I realize that this issue isn't my doing and that my presence isn't required but if I may be so bold as to say that your misfortune is a great learning tool for me." That one brow popped up further, her heart racing at the implication that she'd pissed him off. "Not that I want you to be angry but, well, this is a good lesson on what _not_ to do."

Gray eyes assessed her from head to toe, his CEO mind sharp even after a 90 hour work week and a cumulative two hours of sleep the night before. "Ever been to Spokane, Ms. Perault?"

"Yes, Sir," she smiled back. "Born and raised."

_Good to know._

Conover entered first, holding the door open for the team as they filed in, heads down, faces flushed with fear. Not one of them said thank you to him.

Once the room was filled with the sniveling, groveling, blame shifting cheap suit executives Christian stood, rolled his sleeves down, buttoned them and then reached for his jacket, slung over the back of his chair.

"There are nineteen of you. _Nineteen_ Ivy League graduates in this room and only one of you did your job correctly. Conover," he shot out, his gray eyes finding the man across the room, "You're being promoted to the Spokane office. You have one week from Monday to arrange your personal issues."

He looked around until he found the intern. "Ms. Perault you are being offered an administrative position with the logistical team also a week from Monday, also in Spokane." Around him the group began to fidget with hope, each of them wondering what promotion they were about to be receive.

"The rest of you are fired as of this minute. Happy New Year." And then he was gone, Taylor hot on his heels and just as anxious to get home to the soft woman he'd made his wife two years ago. Lord knew he needed a little tenderness after that scene.

* * *

The lights were off except for the cinnamon candle Gail had left lit on the kitchen counter. Christian shucked off his suit jacket and chuckled at it. A candle. A _cinnamon_ candle. In his apartment. Ana had said it was her favorite holiday scent so he'd sent Andrea to Niemen's last week to find a few. After one last inhalation he blew it out before going to his room to brush his teeth and strip out of his clothes.

In nothing but a towel he rushed up the stairs, his body primed and ready to wake her up for a good session in the playroom. Man did he need to fuck and fuck hard. The aggression, the tension, the annoyance was simmering inside just waiting for a release.

_Maybe I'll break out the whip tonight. _His cock went from hard to rock hard at the thought.

Ana's room was dark except for the winter moon that cast everything in a soft bluish haze. She'd fallen asleep on her back, her arms above her head, hair splayed over the white pillow. For a moment he just looked at her, reveled in the fact that she was here and well and his. Slowly he pulled the cover down revealing tender curves and hidden treasures, his eyes feasting on her pink nipples and the cleft between her legs before temptation called too strongly and he joined her.

The heat of her body, so warm and inviting called him closer, the scent of her skin begging him to nuzzle against it. Her lashes fluttered when he rested his body over hers, his elbows bearing the majority of his weight as he hovered there, lips grazing hers as he willed her to wake. It was all so gentle, so sweet, so calm.

But then her eyes flew open, the depth of fear deeper than anything he'd ever known. Her hands pushed against him to get him off even as her body twisted to get away and her scream filled the room with a terror so visceral it cut him in half. Out of bed he flew, his hands outstretched, heart hammering in his chest, eyes wide with regret.

_You fucking idiot!_

She stopped as sleep faded and reality set in clinging to the blanket as if it were a shield. Silent seconds ticked by as she fought back the demons but the fear that always lingered gripped her tightly. He watched with total broken helplessness as her shoulders slumped and then began to shake as tears streamed down her face in never ending rivulets.

"Shit, Ana…I didn't think…I thought you'd known I was coming in…I…I'd never..." His feet shuffled forward but he stopped them, his arms aching to comfort her. "Can I come to you?" he asked weakly, his shoulders trembling as the adrenaline wore off.

She nodded once, her tears falling faster than she could wipe them away. In one fell swoop he'd picked her up and sat in her place, his back against the headboard, her body over his so that he could tuck her head under his chin. For a long time they sat just like that, his hand smoothing over her back and hair, his voice shushing her with promises of safety and protection as she burrowed deeper into the security of his embrace.

When the tears faded away to nothing more than the occasional shiver, embarrassment and shame crept in. She had known he was coming but that hadn't stopped the dreams from coming so when she felt his breath on her face and the hardness between his legs she'd panicked.

"I'm so sorry, Christian," she started but he stopped her, one finger over her lips.

"Never, Ana. Never, _ever_ apologize to me for this." He felt another tear fall onto his arm where it held her tightly to him. _I will personally kill every last person who did this. Slowly and painfully._ "You hold no blame here. No shame, no guilt. Don't you ever apologize for it." She shuddered and pressed her face into the hollow of his neck, the wetness of her tears searing into his skin. _There will be no mercy when I found out who did this to her. Death will bring relief._

In the safety of his arms she began to tremble as it all came crashing down but Christian held her tight and waited for the terror to pass. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his neck where she clung to him, the small bite of pain keeping him grounded to her instead of flying off into the rage he was suppressing. Instead of asking the questions that danced on his tongue he gentled her and rocked her, holding her as close as he could. When at last her breathing had returned to normal and her tears were no more than hiccups he let his arms drop so that he could see her.

"You ok, baby?" he'd asked her softly, tipping her chin up with the tip of one finger.

_Did he call me baby? And why does that make me so happy and so…secure?_

With a nod she closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened again at his tenderness as his thumbs swept over her jaw.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she scoffed. "I most definitely do not want to talk about it."

He leaned back and resisted the urge to pull his hair. Did she not understand how powerful he was? Did she not realize that he had armies of people who could help her? Did she not know that he would do anything to keep her safe in both body and mind?

"I'm ok now," she said on a hiccup as she sat up and wiped her eyes on the sheet. "It just caught me off guard that's all."

He let her go, the void against his chest painful. He stood, got her a glass of water and a wet cloth to wipe her tearstained face with. The sight of those salty tracks down her cheeks were too much for him to bear witness to so he sat on the bed and dug his palms against his eyes. He felt her shift to her knees in front of him, one hand reaching out to hold onto his.

"Thank you for sitting with me." Her voice was so small, so weak, so needy. He opened his eyes and saw her vulnerability staring back at him.

"I was glad to do it," he said with such sincerity that she felt the truth of it settle on her skin like a blanket. "Tell me, Ana, what do you need? How can I help you? What can I do?"

She gave him a smile and leaned towards him for a kiss, her lips grazing the stubbled skin of his jaw.

_You, I just need you._

"Make me forget," she whispered as her hand trailed up from his knee, leaving fire in its wake.

Logically it felt wrong to want her right now, wrong to groan when her hand closed over him and stroked upwards, wrong to wrap his hands around her head and lick the inside of her mouth when she finally gave it to him but then she'd whispered it again with an urgency he understood, the protector in him answering the need in her.

"Please," she begged, her heart bursting with a million different emotions. He hesitated even as he grew hard in her palm. "Please, Christian," she whimpered once more, her thumb swirling the drop of moisture that beaded at the tip of his cock.

"Are you sure?" he huffed out, sliding her beneath him again, careful not to frighten her. "I don't know if we should." It was the most honest he could be. Where was the line between helping and taking advantage? Was this need in her? Or guilt? Was this her way of fighting back or was this born out of shame? "Ana..." he said between gentle kisses to her eyes and mouth, "I don't...don't do this for me, baby."

God he was going to rip her apart if he kept caring for her like this. Her legs drew him closer so that he rested on her belly, his hard heat wreaking havoc on her libido. "I'm not. It's not for you," she panted out the truth, the exposure sure to kill her. She needed him. _Needed_ him. "Please..."

He moved lower so that the length of him rested within her sex. "You're sure?" he asked again, his body answering her cries on its own.

"I'm sure," she heaved, her mind in desperate need of the sweet oblivion this man could give her. With a roll of her hips she touched him with her wetness, his answering gasp exactly what she wanted. "I'm sure…I'm sure…I'm sure…"

When his mouth closed on the spot beneath her ear that made her squirm she begged, pleaded, scratched at his hips to draw him closer, gripped his cock in her hand to entice him in but still he held himself back as he fought to figure out what was right. She stilled, her hands dropping to her sides.

"Please," she whispered, her eyes burning into his only inches away. "Please. I need you. I need to feel you. I need you to want me."

With a tenderness he didn't know he possessed he kissed her lips and breached her entrance as his hands found hers.

"I always want you, Ana." Slick and hot he slid in until he could go no further. "I've wanted you from the first time I saw you," he breathed into her mouth as he glided out and then back in. "I'll want you until the day I die."

She felt it then, that part of her she'd hidden so carefully, that place in her soul she'd saved for herself…it came to life and reached for the man who held her so closely and kissed her so gently. The pain of it, the realization that she needed a man so emotionally out of reach was enough to elicit a strangled cry but then he'd kissed her eyelids and tasted her tears on his lips.

"Shhh, baby. I've got you," he said, the grip of his fingers around hers tightening as he rested his chest against hers. "Nothing will happen to you, Ana," he moved his hips in small circles, the rest of his body still on top of hers. "I will never let anyone hurt you." He pressed his forehead to hers and squeezed his eyes shut. "Let me take care of you."

She was spiraling towards the unknown. It was one thing to willingly give your body to another. Another to give your time. But to entrust someone with your spirit, the very essence of who you are…

"Yes," she gasped as the pleasure peaked.

"Look at me!" he said firmly, her eyes glazing over to find his. He was so close to her in so many ways but she wanted more, her legs wrapping around him just as she cried out. He held on through the clenching, gritted his teeth through the spasms and then buried his face in her neck letting go when she moaned his name.

With monumental effort he moved behind her on the bed, pulling her as close to him as he could when he wrapped his arms around her. Against the strength of his body she relaxed, the surety of her security in him complete. Pressing his lips into her hair he made a silent vow.

He would protect her, shield her, defend her, and avenge her. Tomorrow he'd demand that Welch find out everything no matter how illegal the channels were, no matter how much money it cost. Never again would she wake in fear, never again would she cower like a child in her own bed.

"This is not the way I wanted you to end a stressful day," she sighed, her fingers running over his forearm where he held her.

"That was amazing, Ana. And outside of terrifying you, that was exactly what I needed." And it was true. As much as he thought he'd needed something harsh and extreme after the week he'd had, it had been her clinging to him that had chased the day away.

"But I was a mess."

"You were beautiful and brave." In his embrace she sighed, tilting her head towards his when he kissed her temple again. "Now sleep and know that nothing will ever hurt you again."


	12. Chapter 12

He'd waited until she'd fallen into a deep sleep before he slipped out of bed to call Welch on the emergency line. It took the man five rings but he'd answered it, his voice low but urgent when he saw the time. Four am.

"Sir?"

"Call in whatever favor you need to, spend as much money as necessary but I want Anastasia's medical records on my desk first thing on Monday. I don't give a shit about legalities, I don't give a shit about your moral compass, just get it done."

"Sir, it's New Years Eve and we've gone as far as we can, her records were" Welch stumbled out before being interrupted.

With a low growl Christian dug in his heels. "I don't care what day it is or how far you think you've already gone, this takes priority! Monday, Welch." He'd hung up and then stood in the great room with the lights off in nothing but his boxers, the chill from the window cooling the raging heat that was burning him from the inside out. Below him the lights of Seattle twinkled, the occasional random car no more than a blur on the street 20 floors beneath where he stood so far removed from everyone else.

She was safe so long as she was here. All he had to do was figure out a way to keep her here or at the very least in his presence. He thought about reaching out to her parents to see if they'd tell him anything. They knew about their 'relationship' of course. If the papers hadn't outted them the fact that Ana had arrived home for Christmas with a bodyguard would have done the job. She said they'd been receptive even if they weren't exactly thrilled so clearly her protection was important to them. Maybe if he told them that he was worried about her…

It was the not knowing that was killing him. And until tonight he could have kept on lying to himself but now, now that he'd held her trembling body and wiped her hot tears, now that she'd needed him, now that he'd met that need and had comforted her, now that he'd seen in her a reflection of himself…things between them would never be the same.

Resting his forehead against the thick glass he took a fortifying breath. She'd been so afraid. So small and helpless and lost until he'd held her close and willed her to feel his strength. If she felt the promise of his protection, maybe she would heal or at the very least entrust him with the truth.

In those tender moments he would have given her anything she asked for but she'd only wanted him to hold her and to make her feel alive. To just _be_ with her. No one had ever needed him like that before. His offerings to others came in the form of gifts and cash and influence but Ana, she had just wanted _him_.

The weight of it pressed down on his chest until he felt as if he couldn't catch his breath. That wasn't who he was. He didn't hold someone while they cried, he bought them a car. He didn't stroke their hair until the tears ceased to fall, he paid for the best psychologist. Affection? Tenderness? He wasn't capable of it and if that was what she needed...

_But you were capable of it. You did it and you wanted to do it and you were good at it._

He poured himself a scotch and sat at the piano, his fingers resting on the ivory keys without making a sound. Why this lifestyle? Why would she choose a lifestyle where the power was so unbalanced? How could she find safety and pleasure in being restrained when she clearly had been violated before?

It was all new to him. As far as he knew none of the women he'd been with before had been assaulted. He'd suspected it of one of his subs a few years back but she'd never mentioned it and he certainly hadn't asked but now he found himself going crazy trying to figure it all out. Welch would find something, he always did and between Christian's connections and vast influence he'd take care of whoever was responsible, that much he was sure about.

He shook his head in disbelief. _Someone had hurt her._ The thought of it ripped at his insides and boggled his mind. How could _anyone_ hurt a woman, especially one so sweet and delicate as Anastasia?

In his room he stood in front of the picture of her hanging across from his bed. She was laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners and alive with joy. That is how he wanted to see her always. Carefree and self-assured and what Christian Grey wanted Christian Grey got so without another thought about it he climbed the stairs and stood at the threshold of her room.

"You left," she said with a sleepy voice, one arm reaching out to him from under the white comforter. "I woke and you were gone."

He moved quickly, his large frame dwarfing hers when he pulled her back against his chest. She sighed, her tiny hand gripping his and pulling it tighter around her as she nestled in.

"I'm here now, Ana. I won't leave again. Sleep, baby."

* * *

When he'd come down the stairs for breakfast Ana smiled and served him French toast with warm maple syrup and blackberries. She'd been up for two hours already, sick to her stomach because of the way she'd reacted last night and embarrassed at the way she'd begged him to love her.

Because that's exactly what she'd been doing even if she hadn't said the word.

"Good morning," he said with a quirky smile as the last vestiges of sleep fell away. His hair stuck out in every direction, his face still marred with the imprint of the pillow. So fucking handsome.

"Good morning, Christian." She turned down Carol King's 'So Far Away' and sat next to him, smiling when he sleepily kissed her temple, his face still warm with slumber.

So much to say. So much to explain. She needed to organize her thoughts, filter out what she could file away, pull out what she was ready to tell because she knew there was no way in hell he wasn't going to ask. It had been the same with both of her long term Doms but neither of them had pushed her as hard as Christian did to talk about it. They'd cared but they'd never pushed and as much as they thought they knew, it was nothing compared to the actualities of it.

"Today's your total power exchange, Mr. Grey," she winked in an attempt at distraction, her smirk slipping off her face when he just looked at her. Normalcy, she needed normalcy but that look told her loud and clear that she wasn't getting it. There was no way Christian Grey was going to let go of what occurred last night no matter how hard she tried to deflect him.

"I want to talk about that, Ana. The power exchange," he added as clarification. His fork made the tiniest noise when he rested it against the plate to ready himself. "In light of last night, I'm not sure today is a good day for that." She sat up straight to interrupt but he held up one hand and carried on. "I will never, _ever_, be ok with upsetting you. Seeing you sad like that," he breathed in deeply, "it affected me and I'm not a man easily affected."

"Christian, I'm fine, really, I am. I was in a dream and you startled me but I'm fine now."

"That was more than a dream, Ana and I loathe being lied to."

She hung her head, hands knotting in her lap. "It's important to me that you treat me normally."

He blinked. "_Normally_?" She expected him to go on as if last night hadn't happened? "Do you really expect me to tie you up and spank you knowing that something happened to you but not knowing what it was? You think I'd risk that right now?"

She looked up at him with a ferocity he'd not seen in anyone but himself.

"Yes. That is _exactly_ what I expect from you. You are my Dom, I am your sub. Nothing has changed as far as my limits and my wants. The way we interact, the…the…arrangement we have is exactly what I want and need. It's safe and sane and consensual and satisfying."

The barstool scraped against the floor when he stood to pace, his hands settling on top of his head while he tried to process everything. Like a caged tiger he walked from one end of the room to the other, each step accentuating the muscles in his frame. He had no idea how to navigate this and despite his best efforts to formulate a plan, everything failed him. Finally he stopped, faced her and blew out a frustrated breath.

"I've never been in this situation before, Ana. I want you, desperately, but I don't know where the line is between taking you and scaring you. Last night…" he looked away as if searching for the words that eluded him, "last night when you looked at me with fear…it killed me. I've administered pain, I've carried out punishments but I've never had a woman look at me like that."

"Christian, I know you'd never hurt me. I know that."

"But I don't!" he yelled, his hands falling to his sides in balled up fists of frustration. "Not now I don't! I _saw_ your terror, Ana. I saw the way you fought to pull yourself from that nightmare. I can't be responsible for that but I can't avoid it either if I don't know what caused it. I can't promise not to hurt you if I don't know what to avoid!"

He made perfect sense as had Dominick before him when he'd made the same argument. It's not that she felt shame because she didn't. It's not because she was embarrassed because she wasn't. But sometimes, when something is so ugly, the mind can only visit it in small doses. Self preservation was something that Anastasia Steele had done a really good job at perfecting.

He watched her and settled himself down, realizing that forcing her to tell him anything would only isolate her further. At the counter she waited, her eyes pleading with him to carry on as normal. He'd laugh at that notion if he weren't so pissed.

"I'm not engaging the power exchange today. As your Dom I'm in charge and nothing you say or do will change that." As much as he wanted to see his cum on her pretty little face and her lips wrapped around that sterling silver ball gag there was no way in hell he'd push her limits right now. She stood to argue, a firm, "Nothing," putting any thought of an argument to rest.

She dropped back to her seat deflated and frustrated. On the table his phone was going off every minute or so with urgent year end business that required his attention but he ignored it and kept his gaze trained on her alone.

"I can help you, Ana. I have a network of people who can help."

_Oh god, if he digs...he can't dig. There's too much at stake if he finds out what happened._ _You've got to tell him something if for no other reason than to appease him and protect Ray._ _Maybe if he understood why this lifestyle and this arrangement worked so well for me he'd be less concerned with the details of why I chose it._

"Why did you choose this lifestyle, Christian?"

"What?" He stood still, the sun doing its best to peek through the heavy dark clouds that covered the late morning sky. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She shrugged, the silk of the robe sliding off that dainty shoulder to reveal smooth, creamy skin. In three strides he was at her side, his large hand resting over that gently curved bone.

_Just fucking do it. Tell her everything. Tell her how sick and twisted you've been from day one. That's sure to make her feel secure around you._

"Ana," he started, his voice fading along with his confidence until there was only silence between them.

"I got into it because I would panic almost every time I had sex with my first boyfriend. Full on panic attacks that would cripple me, shred my confidence, make me feel like I was out of control and made him feel like he was victimizing me all over again." He tipped her face up to his.

"Again?"

"Obviously something happened to me," she said softly, so softly he could barely hear it.

"Was it that fucker Clayton?"

She blinked in surprise. "Of course not! He was nothing but good to me. God, he _helped_ me!" she huffed.

"Tell me about it, Ana. Tell _me_ so _I_ can help you too," he pleaded. Her skin grew hot beneath his hands, her lashes lowering against her cheek.

"It's…it's easier to tell you why I need this." _And safer._

_Fine. Anything, just tell me something!_ He waited but she said no more so he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs, standing her at the edge of her bed while he rummaged through drawers. _Shit, nothing. Why was she still not keeping things here?_

"Wait here," he said before jogging down the stairs only to come back up a minute later with what appeared to be items of clothing. "Arms up." She did as he asked, the robe falling away only to be replaced with a faded and well-worn Harvard sweatshirt. "Legs." Her brows knit as she let him dress her in a pair of his silk pajama pants, smiling as he cursed at the way they almost fell off of her even after tying them as tight as they'd go.

"We need to get you some cake or something, Ms. Steele. You've lost a bit of weight over the last few weeks." The corner of his mouth lifted with a wry smile before he put on a matching pair of black silk pants, leading her to the unmade bed where he pointed. "Now sit and talk."

"You don't have a shirt on," she stated calmly.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one who needs to be comfortable right now."

"No, but you're really _really_ hot and I really _really_ like looking at you naked so you being that way is really _really_ distracting."

"You're something else, Ana," he joked with an eye roll, reaching into an open drawer before putting on the only t-shirt she had. Arms outstretched he turned around to model for her. "Better?"

"Much. Though it seems a bit small on you."

Exasperated he sat across from her, his legs outstretched so that she was between them. "Now talk to me. Please."

He looked so earnest as he waited for her to speak, so very interested in what she had to say that she threw caution to the wind and opened her mouth.

"I don't know where to start." In her lap her hands twisted, the many things she needed or wanted to say to him running together in her brain until she landed on one that was easy to verbalize. "Sex, the actual act of sex isn't a problem for me. It's the unknown that's a problem, a trigger if you will."

He nodded, on some level he could understand that. He still, after 29 years on this earth couldn't be touched. Slamming doors would cause his heart to skip in fear and even now the smell of cigarette smoke made him nauseous. So triggers? That he could understand.

"When I first started having sex with my first boyfriend we'd been together over two years and he loved me. He'd waited over _two years_ to sleep with me, had always been good to me, loved me and took care of me, everything a girl could want. But no matter what we did, no matter how slow we went or how bright the lights were or how much he promised not to hurt me I would panic almost every time."

She shook her head, tears stinging the back of her lids at the memory of Paul's face each time she'd start to gasp with panic beneath him or claw at his arms to push him off. "I would apologize over and over and he'd always tell me it was fine, that I was so much more than the physical to him and that we'd get past it eventually but we never did. For a year we tried. I spoke to my therapist about it, my mom, him. _So much freaking talking._ But I got nowhere. I could barely let him touch me and forget about orgasming. Not even an option."

"So when we left for separate colleges and I suggested that he see other people he bucked at the idea. Kept telling me he didn't want anyone else and I just needed more time but it had been a year. A full on year and before that he'd waited two and before that he'd been my friend for a few years. I should have been fine with him. But I wasn't."

Christian swallowed back the intense jealousy at the visual of her sleeping with someone else and watched as she traced her finger over the bump of his knee. "So you broke up?" he asked, genuinely curious as to what got her into BDSM. His own introduction had been unorthodox but he'd never once wondered how anyone else started in it.

Ana nodded solemnly. "Yes. And it sucked because he was my best friend and while I never told him why I was that way, I knew that he knew because my mom told him."

"Why would she do that?" he asked angrily. _So Paul fucking Clayton knew and he didn't._

"He deserved to know, Christian. He's one of the best guys I've ever met and he was desperate to understand and help."

"So _he_ knows what happened?" He watched her inhale slowly to calm herself, saw the way she flexed her fingers to relieve the tension.

_Calm the fuck down, Grey. Do not get angry now. How could this prick know but not him?_

"Yes he knows the gist of it. Some of it I've never talked about and some of it my mom kept private from him but yes, he knows." She could feel his misdirected animosity towards Paul but brushed it off in order to get through the things she wanted to say.

"Anyway, at college I met Kate who is still my roommate and let's just say that she's not exactly a virgin." Ana winked and he smiled at the gesture, so casual in the midst of such a heavy conversation. "She had this friend who would come around a lot, a girl named Kari. One night we all got a bit drunk and Kari told me she'd been training to be a submissive. 'What's that?' I asked and when she told me, I was appalled. Like, feminist appalled. A man told her what to do with her body and she did it? Without argument? Bull shit, right? But then she explained that before she did anything she chose the man, went over everything sexual so that her limits and his were clearly defined and then and only then did she sleep with him. As unusual as it sounded, it was handled like a business transaction. No emotion, no surprises, no second guesses."

"It was a light bulb moment for me. Finally a way to achieve physical intimacy without letting emotions or feelings or surprises into the equation while at the same time controlling exactly what would happen down to the words used. Everything was planned and negotiated beforehand which was so simple and so perfect for me. I wanted to be _normal_ and saw this as a step in that direction. BDSM for me seemed like a tool to get me past my issues. So I got the information for the club she first went to and a month later, I went."

"By yourself?"

"By myself. She'd given me the name of a man who was going to meet me there, a friend of her Doms who she thought would be a good match and who wasn't opposed to a completely green submissive so I met him there. He introduced himself and never once touched me which was a huge step in gaining my trust. One conversation led to another and then another and within a week we were laying out ground rules and limits and for the first time in my life I wasn't dreading sex, I was actually looking forward to it."

He had to know, as much as it sickened him to ask, he had to know.

"So you scened with him?"

Her hands rested on his shins and stroked over the silk, a mindless comfort that gave her the courage to continue. She'd never actually told anyone how she'd become a submissive.

"I did." She smiled to herself, his anger reaching an all-time high while he watched her. "Not a full scene, I couldn't do that much but I was attracted to him and I trusted him enough to care for me the way he said a Dominant was supposed to. Once I worked up the courage he came to my dorm room because it was a safe place for me."

"Your dorm room?" _What the fuck kind of amateur shit was that?_

Ana gave him a halfcocked stare, the animosity in his question enough to halt her in her tracks. He backtracked, afraid she'd shut down on him.

"I'm surprised that a seasoned Dom would take you to your dorm room for something so big."

"Why?" she asked defensively. "He knew I had a history, anyone could see that just by the way I carried myself back than and he knew I was comfortable there. It was a safe place. I would think a good Dom would see my needs and meet them which is exactly what he did. Isn't that what we both get out of the deal? It's more than sex, Christian. It's taking the person into account which he did."

Well she had him there. With gritted teeth he nodded once.

"Fair point, well made, Ms. Steele."

"Anyway," she dragged the word out as a warning, one which he took seriously and then continued on. "We didn't have sex but it was the first time I had been naked with a man other than Paul and had let someone touch me or touched someone else without feeling like I was going to throw up. He did exactly what we had discussed, he asked me over and over if I needed to safe word and he went at my pace." She looked down at her hands as they stroked over the bend of his knee. "I felt normal for the first time."

"Did you orgasm?" The blush creeping up her face was answer enough.

"Yes. First time ever." He felt the bile rise.

So that fucker had had the pleasure of not only her first submission, not only her first scene, but her first climax as well. Marcus Jamieson. He'd deal with him in his own way come Monday. Jealousy was an emotion Christian Grey did not handle well.

"After that I decided to move forward with him in the context of a Dom/sub arrangement and it worked for me. It was the _only_ thing that worked for me. Maybe it was the blunt, open, what you see is what you get conversations that took place beforehand, maybe it was the fact that my limits were spelled out in black and white for him, maybe it was because I knew I could stop him with a single word, maybe it was because in handing over all of my vulnerabilities I felt in control. Maybe it was because he wasn't trying to get into my head by bringing emotions into it. Maybe it was because he wanted nothing from me outside of what I was comfortable offering. Whatever it was, it worked and it still works which is why I don't want things to change between us after last night."

He felt sucker punched. Hadn't everything changed already? Did she not feel that exchange of something between them last night? Was he the only one struggling to define what this was between them? For close to a minute he sat in stony silence as he processed all she had said, those familiar protections fortifying as he realized that she really didn't want things to change.

"So, in essence, you feel as if you can only have sex within the confines of this lifestyle?"

She nodded, relieved that he'd understood.

"Is that why your last arrangement didn't work?" Ana looked at him with confusion, his pained expression from having to hear about her past and then talk about the one man he felt was a real threat to him showing on his face. "You said he fell in love with you and that's why you left. You yourself just stated that you want to be normal, whatever that is, and that this was a step in that direction for you. So if you were sexually compatible and you obviously cared for him why didn't you try?"

"Try for what?"

"For more. Why didn't you try for more if ultimately that's what you want?"

She drew her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, a long sigh releasing a bit of the pressure that had built up in her chest.

"I tried that once. It doesn't work for me. _This_ is what I'm comfortable with. Emotions make sex too…I don't know…too…vulnerable." Couldn't he see that by the way she'd acted last night? Hadn't he smelled the desperation and fear all over her? Wasn't he afraid of the way she'd clung to him as if he could save her? "I toyed with the idea of pursuing something more with him but the one time I let my guard down the panic came rushing back in." She shrugged and rested her face on her knees. "I'm broken."

"You let your guard down?" Disgust boiled in his gut at the idea of her happy with someone else. "What do you mean?"

"I like BDSM. I like rough sex and submission but I'm only 22. One day I'm going to want to be married and settle down and be…I don't know...boring!" She threw her hands up in frustration. Christian Grey would never understand wanting the white picket fence American dream. "I'm going to want to throw dinner parties and go on vacations with my husband and if he's into kink, great. Perfect actually but one day I want to fall in love and be loved back without it freaking me out."

"So when he told me he loved me and tried to weave in dates and all that shit I resisted. But you know what? He was kind and good and respectful so I thought, 'Why not try'. So I did and the very first time I tried to have spontaneous normal sex with him I panicked. Just like last night but worse. And the truth is I should have known it wouldn't end well because as soon as he confessed that he'd fallen in love with me, I felt it start then. Just knowing that he wasn't in the role I needed him in made gave me pause."

Christian didn't know what was worse. That she'd tried to love this man back or that she wanted to settle down in the future. He'd never thought long term with any of his submissives until Ana but even that didn't include marriage and shit. Around him the walls closed in as the realization that one day she'd find someone who did want all of that hit him.

She'd leave. One day she'd leave and find someone else who could meet all of her needs because marriage, dinner parties, little white fences? They were _never_ going to be a part of his life.

A searing flash of panic pierced his chest. Her last Dom had been exactly what she'd been looking for. In love with her, willing to give her more and still a Dominant. One day she'd realize that what she wanted she had already had and she'd go back to him.

Across from him Ana waited as he worked through all she'd just dumped on him. He was a smart man and was no doubt trying to figure out if she was worth keeping around with all of the baggage she dragged along with her. She watched his gaze drop to the space between them, his chest barely moving as he breathed. When he took in a deep breath and leaned back on his elbows she began to worry that she'd told him too much.

He'd been clear from day one that his arrangements were to be void of emotions and drama. Her job had been to satisfy him sexually and to offer him the mental release of her submission. Yet here she was, eyes still swollen from crying last night, explaining to him that she was fucked up in the head and an emotional basket case. The control she was always searching for became more and more elusive with each inhalation of his, the resignation that he wasn't getting what he wanted from her clear in his gray eyes.

He watched her, her tiny frame completely hidden by his oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants. She was pleading with him, willing him to understand and to give her what she _needed_ but what he wanted was to hold her and offer her all that she _desired_.

But love and marriage, that just wasn't something he would ever do so he resigned himself to the fact that whatever they were sharing was temporary and vowed to do what was best for her even if it meant pulling back so that she didn't run.

His silence was killing her. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Christian? Do you see why I don't want you to treat me with kid gloves after last night? This helps me, it doesn't hurt me."

He sat up straight and then swung his legs over the bed and onto the floor, standing with his arms crossed in front of him.

"I understand." And he did even if it disappointed him, a feeling he'd revisit another time when he wasn't feeling quite so rejected. "You need a Dominant, not a lover."

"Yes," she answered, swallowing back the doubt and confusion that threatened to unhinge her. "Our arrangement, this agreement we have between us is necessary for me, Christian." _Because asking more from you will only force you to shut me out._

"Then stand up, strip, and make your way to the bathroom." He turned and whipped the t-shirt off, balling it up and then tossing it onto the bed behind him. She followed, her clothes all but falling off of her due to their size. In the bathroom he pointed to the tub, "Fill it up."

And though the water came out hot Ana felt cold inside as if the warmth that had taken residence inside of her had left with her admission.

_It's better this way, Ana. You cannot allow yourself to fall apart like that again no matter how delusional you've become. Christian Grey is a man with serious boundaries and if you want him to keep you around, you'd better fall back in line._

When the water was high enough he got in and rested against the back of the tub, closing his eyes in an attempt to get his bearings back. She'd thrown him just now, that much was sure. Until she reinforced her boundaries, he hadn't even realized how far he'd let his go. And if her admission that she had feelings at one point for someone made him this angry and jealous, then he seriously needed to calm the fuck down and work on getting himself back in the right head space because when all was said and done, she was his sub and he was her Dom.

He puffed out a bit of air and looked straight at her. She had one thing right. Emotions fucked everything up.

"Get in and turn around," he demanded gently, his hard dick breaching the water as he watched her breasts swing. "Lean back against me, Ms. Steele."

Her belly flipped at his voice. How he could get it to sound so demanding and sexy when he was in this mode was beyond her but damn did she appreciate it. Once she settled he brought his legs between hers and lifted so that she was wide open.

"Touch yourself while I watch." If she wanted to be dominated, he'd dominate.

Without hesitation she reached between her legs and rubbed over her mound, the smooth skin against her hand eliciting a low moan. His legs pulled her open further while his pelvis pushed upwards so that he could watch.

"In. Put your fingers inside your pussy and fuck yourself." Over her shoulder he watched, his body tingling with desire, relief from the ache found only when he ground his dick against her ass wanting nothing more than to slide it in and feel its tight grip. "One day, Ana," he growled into her ear, his hand wrapping tightly around her hair, "One day I'm going to fuck this sweet little ass of yours and you're going to beg me not to stop. One day you'll trust me enough to touch you anywhere and to tell me all your secrets."

_Never_, she thought briefly until his hands came down over her breasts and pulled at her nipples, the water sloshing around them as Christian shook them.

"I fucking love your tits." He bit the back of her neck lightly, the pain propelling her towards ecstasy. "You like biting don't you sweet girl," he chuckled, his teeth closing again on the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder meet. Again she groaned, her body bowing in response. "Now spread all that juice around and play with that pretty little clit of yours." He moved her up and slid in her tight heat, the instant pleasure pushing her right to the edge. "Not yet. Your Dom wants a show first."

She whimpered and reached back to grip his hair but he stopped her and roughly pushed her fingers back to where they were.

"I didn't tell you to touch me! You want a Dominant, Anastasia, you'll get a Dominant. I will own your pleasure, I will own your orgasm, I will own your body and I will own you. Now sit up and ride my cock the way I like it."

_Yes!_ This was what she wanted. To have all decisions taken from her. To be taken with her pleasure in mind. She gripped his knees and moved up and down as fast as she could, not caring at all for the water that splashed over the sides of the tub and onto the tile floor.

"Faster," he shouted, his hand landing with a satisfying smack on the globe of her ass. But the sting of rejection was sharp and what he wanted was to fuck them both into oblivion. Hard, fast, punishing.

With a roar he pushed up, wrapped her wet hair around his hand and bent her over. "When I say faster," he growled, thrusting into her so harshly she almost fell forward, "I mean faster."

Her palms flattened against the wall as she braced herself against his brutal and rapid strokes, his grunts a testament as to how hard he was going at it but damn if it didn't make her feel alive and somehow whole. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips until he reached forward and pulled her back, one hand around her neck, the other in her hair again.

"Is this what you like? Hmm?" The whisper was harsh, his accompanying final thrust harsher. He pulled out, still hard and angry and turned her around pointing to the ledge behind her. "Sit and spread your legs again. Touch yourself while I watch."

She did, her heated skin instantly chilled by the cold porcelain. He sat back down, the water covering all but the top two inches of his cock and watched as she touched where the pleasure coiled the most.

She wanted emotionless? He could do that in spades. He _would_ do it in spades. "Wider!" he bellowed, her legs stretching out as far as they could go. "You will not cum until I tell you to."

"Oh God," she whined, her climax just out of her grasp. "Please."

He almost laughed. She wanted dominance, she was going to get it. With a sneer he gripped his dick and squeezed it, pulling on his balls to hold off his own climax. Fuck she was hot like that. When her hand stilled he leaned forward and sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking it until her legs began to shake.

_Fuck she tastes so good._

"No," she exclaimed when he sat back, denying her again just as she'd begun to peak.

"Yes. Now fuck yourself." Again she did as he ordered, her fingers slick with her desire, her heart frantically beating as she crested higher and higher. He watched her nipples pebble tighter, saw the flush spread across her chest, heard her cries die in her throat and just as she was about to explode he yelled again, "NO!"

Her head fell back and her hands fell to her sides as that delicious blush faded. He went to her then, lifted her face as he stood and pulled her mouth open.

"Suck me."

She took him in, his hands holding her head still while he moved his hips.

_Why am I so angry? Why did what she say piss me off so much?_ He pushed forward, the head of his dick pressing against the back of her throat. On a gag she swallowed and reached out to push him back on instinct. He grabbed her hands and held them in his own, withdrawing to just the tip.

Her lips pursed out and held him there, her tongue swirling around and around until his fingers tightened and he came, the thick liquid gagging her again as it filled her mouth.

In one swift move he wrapped his hand around her neck and slid two fingers inside of her.

"Look at me, Ms. Steele," the whispered words filled with possession. "You are mine. Even before you met those other men you were mine. You are mine now and when you're living your all American Dream you'll still be mine" His hand moved so quickly her legs trembled as he forced her to cum.

"Mine, Ana!" he yelled over her screams of ecstasy as she thrashed around and came, shattering into a million tiny pieces. "Say it! Say it!"

"Yours. I'm yours, Sir. Yours!"

Her legs made a small splash when they fell into the water, her body completely spent and overwhelmed with sensation.

For a moment he watched her, satisfied by his hand and still at his mercy until he chuckled and pulled her up, lifting her lead-like legs around him before sitting back into the tepid water where she draped over him, her face lodged into the curve of his neck.

"Is that what you were looking for, Ms. Steele?" he asked with a laugh when she shuddered with aftershocks.

"Mmm," she grunted.

"Is that a yes?" he laughed again, reaching for a wash cloth and the body wash.

"Mmm. Yes, Sir."

She felt the cloth on her back and then over her arms and legs before he gently grazed it over the tender flesh between her legs. When he leaned her back to dip her hair below the water she smiled up at him, his answering grin enough to make her giggle.

When her hair had been washed and rinsed he let her fall back against him and thought more about what she had said. Some of it made perfect sense, some of it made no sense at all but the one thing he could agree on was that mixing sex with feelings was fucking him up as well.

_What the hell am I doing? What the hell do I want?_

As if she could read his mind she shifted and lifted her face to his, reaching for the shampoo behind him. God he was so beautiful the sight of him made her want to weep.

He relaxed as her fingers worked over his scalp, the tender care she administered to him wreaking havoc on his sensibilities. He watched her closely as she washed and rinsed him, noticed the way her skin turned pink in the warm water, saw the slight mark his hand had left where it had rested on her throat. She was beautiful, that much was certain but what, outside of the restrictions of their arrangement could he possibly offer her?

Money? Sure. Stability? Without question. Faithfulness? Never a problem. But love? Affection? Marriage? _More?_ No.

He cared for her, of that there was no debate. But those moments in which his humanity shined brightest were flukes as he saw it. Snippets of time in which he reacted as a good Dom and yes, even he could admit it, a compassionate human being.

But the lessons formed in our early years are ones that aren't easily undone. He had been rejected, abused, unloved and neglected, the only words thrown at him those of his failings and shortcomings. And yes, for a few years he'd been told differently even if he couldn't accept it but then _she'd_ come along and had reinforced those hard taught lessons of inadequacy and isolation. Where he had questioned his worth as a child, _she_ had removed any and all doubt. He was as unworthy as they came.

_You're not able to give love because you aren't worthy of love,_ she'd said as she beat him with a thin reed cane against the backs of his knees. _Your own mother saw that you were incapable of humanity and treated you accordingly,_ she lamented, her hands squeezing his balls until his arms hung limply in their shackles. _This is all you're worth, Christian. A fat cock and a good fuck. Everyone knows it._ Elena had taken the kneeling blond woman's hair and had shoved her mouth over his dick then, ordering her to finish off the teenager she'd been abusing for a year now. When he came she ordered the woman to spit his cum on the ground and then pointed.

"Right there, that's all you can offer anyone." Then she'd ordered him to clean it up while she took the blond to the bed where another man waited for them, his laugh sinister as he watched a young Christian Grey clean up his own mess.

Simply put, some lessons hold deep.

* * *

"I trust you're well rested, Ms. Steele. I'm quite fond of your hair like that."

"Thank you for the massage and the nap. I've never had a professional massage before and I've only ever had my hair done for me three times before."

He cocked his head to the side, a sense of pride washing over him at the way he took care of her and exposed her to the finer things.

"Your old Doms never pampered you?" _Amateurs._

She blushed, heard the condescending tone in his voice and cleared her throat as he bent her over.

"Relax," he whispered, inserting first one cold steel ball inside of her before inserting the other. She exhaled and closed her eyes, the thought of his mouth so close to her sex enough to have her wet and wanting. Before she stood he lightly slapped her bare slit, chuckling when she moaned into the bedspread.

"I can't wait to see how needy you get tonight with these inside of you for hours instead of our usual short sessions." Christian strode to the door, buttoned his sleeve and casually reminded her of their departure over his shoulder. "Ten minutes, Anastasia. And do not even _think_ about getting yourself off before we go."

_Well damn._

Pulling up a pair of tiny white lace thongs she cursed herself again for her reaction to him last night. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what had happened to her because she knew that she wasn't in anyway guilty of it but to be vulnerable like that…to whimper in someone's arms and then to depend on them to care for you…it was too much. It left her too open. Too raw. Too exposed.

All day, from their conversation this morning to the bath they shared to the lunch she prepared for him before the massage therapist came she worked on rebuilding those safeguards. He deserved to know why she had reacted the way she did but to say it all out loud in one go, to throw it all out there in its black ugliness was just too much. It always had been.

_A little at a time,_ her therapist had said when she'd finally started talking about it. _It's like eating a huge meal. Little bites at a time until it's all gone._ When she had been younger, before she'd understood exactly what had been done to her and taken from her, she'd only known the fear and pain and the confusion of it. Talking about it was moderately easy because it was just the reiteration of facts.

But as she grew and matured, as she watched her body change and realized the damage that had been done to it and the loss she had endured, talking about it became impossible. Because it wasn't a recount of events anymore. It was emotions and feelings and things that made her so angry she thought she'd die from the rage of it all.

With a groan of embarrassment she zipped up the silver cocktail dress, marveling at the way it accentuated all of the good curves her body had to offer. She'd seen the look on his face when she confessed that one day she wanted a love affair that led to marriage and forever. She'd seen the way he shut down in front of her when she'd spoken that aloud and burned with regret at having shared so much.

_It's not like I was saying I wanted to marry him,_ she thought, spritzing herself with the perfume he'd given her last week. _I was just saying that one day I want it all with someone of like mind._

Her heels clicked along the glossy wood floor and down the stairs that emptied into the great room where he stood by the window in a tux that looked like it was made specifically for him. Probably was.

He turned when he heard her, his eyes widening at the sight of the beauty before him. "You look stunning, Anastasia." He kissed her cheek then, the slight contact heating up her skin. With a wink he looked at her legs and smirked. "I do hope you put some panties on. Tight as you are, you'll be so wet in a few minutes the ben-wah balls are likely to slip out."

"Oh my God, Mr. Grey!" she laughed, "Just don't embarrass me in front of your family!"

He got serious then, his face blanking into business mode.

"My family knows that the sexual lifestyle I've chosen isn't mainstream but to their knowledge I hardly, if ever, practice it. As far as they know, I haven't practiced BDSM in years and I'd like for them to continue to think that way. My assumption is that they will not place you as a submissive but as something more akin to a girlfriend though I've not used that term with them." Her heart tripped over itself.

_Don't go there, Ana Rose!_

"I expect you to call me Christian tonight and I will refer to you as Anastasia. I've no doubt you'll charm my parents and my sister by being yourself and Elliot already thinks you're wonderful." Silently he walked behind her and grazed his fingertips over her shoulders, her answering shudder enough to send the blood rushing south to his dick. _Such a perfect little ass._

"You will act the part of girlfriend and you will respond to me as such but I will remind you throughout the night that I am your Dominant. When I want to play with you," he lifted something around her neck, "I will. When I want you to suck me," lifting her hand he clasped the diamond bracelet there, "you will do so immediately and without question."

She felt the weight of the jewels, the heady sensation at being told what to do overwhelming her senses when added to his titillating touch. His fingers fumbled at her lobes, deftly removing the small earrings that she had chosen before sliding the diamonds he'd purchased in their place. With a whisper he leaned forward and brushed his lips against that spot on her neck that made her legs tremble.

"And when I want to fuck you, I will. You are mine, do not forget that."

"Yes, Sir," she managed to breathe out, her fingers automatically going to the weight around her neck.

"Happy New Year, sweet girl." With choreographed ease he walked her to the mirror in the hall, her gasp exactly what he had been hoping for when he'd purchased the jewels in Aspen.

"Mr. Grey," she started, the words caught in her throat as she watched the reflections in the glass. "They're so beautiful."

He grinned. She had no idea they were hers to keep.

"Compared to you, Anastasia, they're nothing more than rocks. Now come, I can't wait to show you off."

* * *

**Authors note: No, Ray didn't hurt her. **

**As to posting, I'll do it as I can. I'm very busy with a large family and a lot of personal commitments. I'm not beholden to a schedule nor will I be. I'm glad you all like this so much but real life comes first. **


	13. Chapter 13

"Come here," he beckoned to her in the dark SUV, his grin salacious and hungry. Ana slid over, yelping when he lifted one of her legs over his own before bringing his lips to hers. "I won't kiss you because it would be a mortal sin to mess up that lipstick but I _am_ going to wet my fingers with your pussy and watch you lick them clean."

She held her breath and gripped the leather seat beneath her when his fingers slid up the silky skin of her thighs, stopping to snap one of the garters that held her stockings in place. "I can smell how much you want me, Anastasia and it turns me the fuck on. Tell me, are those balls making you needy?"

"I'm fine, Sir," she squeaked out, unwilling to let him see just how affected she was by him. He chuckled, his breath hot on her shoulder while his palm swept upwards until he'd pressed one long finger into the thin lace covering her sex.

"You're wet." He dragged that finger up and down her slit until her head dropped back and her chest heaved with an impending release. "I'll ask you again. Are those balls making you needy?"

"Yes, Sir," she said on a moan. _Please take them out..._

"Do you want to cum?"

"Yes," she whimpered. A harsh pinch to her nipple had her gasping, "Yes, Sir," she corrected. He grinned, pulled his finger away and ran it under his nose.

"I do love the way you smell, Ms. Steele." That same finger travelled to her mouth, its wetness evident when he ran it along that sweet bottom lip of hers. "I also love the way you taste." She sucked it in on a whimper, gently biting where it met his palm. "Baby, you keep that up and I'll make you suck me off with Taylor less than three feet away."

Her eyes flew open with surprise but Christian just chuckled and adjusted his pants with a smirk. "By the end of the night I plan to have you so worked up you'll beg me to fuck you in the middle of the room no matter who's watching."

_He wouldn't..._

"Good thing for you I don't share. Your body, your scent, your taste, your sounds, your pleasure," he kissed her quickly, his lips lingering a hairsbreadth away, "all mine."

His bravado was as false as his confidence. Inside he was terribly anxious to introduce Ana to his family and the small circle of friends his parents had invited over. Not because he was afraid they wouldn't like her or that they would embarrass him but because this was a situation he never expected himself to be in. And in a world where total and utter control reign, an unknown and unplanned variable was always something to be wary of.

Watching her as the car drove along, he felt the tendrils of uncertainty snake around him, the nervous anger that always accompanied a situation in which he wasn't in Dom mode making him curse himself for cancelling that tpe. He'd purposefully chosen today to enact the power exchange knowing that the situation would warrant an extra dose of control, one he had bargained on utilizing all day and well into the evening. If he'd known she was under his complete and utter authority, bringing her into this part of his guarded life would have been far less overwhelming. In his wildest dreams he'd not imagined bringing a woman around his family yet here he was, less than two miles from the home in Bellevue he'd grown up in.

_Maybe I should just cancel, wouldn't be the first time I've done that last minute. I'll smooth it over by letting Mia take the jet to Paris._

But then the car came to a halt in a familiar driveway, the white Christmas lights adding to the surreal moment he'd found himself in. Taylor's door slammed shut and Christian's opened, his long legs exiting onto the light dusting of snow on the driveway.

"I'll get her," he said brusquely to Taylor, motioning for the man to move so that he could open Ana's door himself. Despite the cold air whipping around him his palms began to sweat.

_I am about to bring a woman to my parent's home. What the fuck am I thinking?_

Ana put her hand in his and gave him a nervous smile and damn if that didn't give him a reason to pull his shit together. "It'll be fine," he whispered to her, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear. _Maybe they should just go..._

For a moment his feet refused to move but then the front door flung open and his sister leaned out, black short hair glossy and adorned with what appeared to be a diamond encrusted headband. Brightly she smiled at him but only for a second because all of her attention shifted to Ana in an instant.

She was real and she was here and she was holding his arm. Touching him. And he wasn't freaking out. _Please God, let this be the one for him._

With a warning glare from her older brother she stayed in the doorway and waited until they approached, her heel clicking rhythmically behind her on the marble floor. She was going to burst any second now, her impatience growing by the second.

"Mia, may I introduce my companion for the"

"Anastasia. I know who you are, you're all over the papers. I'm Mia, Christian's baby sister. Welcome to our home!" She took a deep breath and reached for Ana's hand, startled when she found it warm.

_She's real. Christian brought home an actual live, breathing, thinking person._ Inside she was giddy and as much as she tried to hide it she couldn't. He'd kill her tomorrow for her exuberance but tonight, she just didn't care.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mia. Christian said you were leaving for Paris tomorrow."

"Two days from now. Figures he thought it was tomorrow, he never listens to anything I say but brothers ya know, that's just the way it is. Elliot is inside, come, I want to introduce you to my parents." Ana laughed but let herself be pulled along until she felt a tug on her waist and turned to find an amused but irritated Christian.

"_I_ will introduce her, Mia."

"Oh, right. Of course. They're in the dining room watching over the caterers, I think Elliot and his date are in there as well. Lilly! Marisol!" Mia turned and smiled at Ana, "These are my best friends since grade school. We're heading out to a club after midnight for my going away party. You'll come won't you?" She looked so earnest Ana almost agreed on the spot but Christian cleared his throat and squeezed his fingers around her wrist.

"Mia, introductions."

"Of course. I'm sorry, I'm just so excited for tonight and Paris and meeting you. Anyway, girls, this is Christian's friend Anastasia."

"Please, call me Ana," she said with a smile. Marisol returned the greeting, offering her a half drunk glass of champagne but Lilly glared at her until Mia noticed, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

"I'll explain that later," she whispered to Ana as Christian directed her to the dining room where an older couple and Elliot were making last minute changes to the spread before them.

"Mother, Dad." They turned, both of their faces lighting up when they saw not only their son but the woman next to him.

"Happy New Year, dear!" Grace exclaimed, kissing his cheeks before extending her hand to Ana. "Grace Trevelyan-Grey but please call me Grace. It is _such_ a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia. We were so happy when Christian told us you were able to accompany him here tonight." It was all the older woman could do to resist hugging the poor girl.

"The pleasure is all mine, thank you so much for having me. And please, call me Ana." The women stared at each other, Grace with wonder and Ana with respect. So this was the woman who had saved and raised Christian Grey.

"Carrick," the older man said, his hand extended and a lopsided grin on his handsome face. "Welcome to our home, Ana. I do hope you've been offered a drink."

"Actually, dad I was just about to go in search of one." Christian turned, his hand still on Ana's lower back. "Red wine or would you prefer champagne this evening?"

"This evening? How formal. Ana, good to see you again." She grinned and hugged Elliot back, Christian's hand not once leaving its territorial place on her spine.

"You as well, Elliot. Happy New Year." Turning towards the handsome man whose nerves she could feel despite his best efforts she smiled. "Red wine would be wonderful, thank you, Christian."

At the casual use of his name his entire family gasped quietly, their hopes soaring while they watched him retreat to the main living room for a glass.

"Thank you so much for having me here. Your home is lovely." She swallowed back the nerves and smiled at the family in front of her. "I've been looking forward to meeting you all for some time now."

Grace beamed, Carrick rocked back on his heels with delight and Elliot crossed his arms, relieved that this was the woman spending time with his brother.

"Some time? How long have you and Christian been…friends? Seeing each other?" Grace couldn't help herself. Her son was finally showing interest in someone and had been caught smiling on camera with her. She'd promised herself that she'd hold back and act as casual as she could but then they walked in and Ana was touching him and he had his hand on her and motherly joy kicked in and well, she was damn near having a heart attack she was so happy.

"We've been spending time together for about two months now, give or take a week. I so admire how you still spend every Sunday together as a family for dinner. As an only child it's such a wonderful thing to see families enjoying each other's company like that."

Christian handed her a glass of deep red wine, lifting a tumbler of scotch to his lips after a quick clink of glasses. Instinctively his hand made its way back to the curve of her ass, her own body moving closer to him as if they were magnets.

"We would love to have you sometime. We keep it super casual and almost always have spaghetti and meatballs. We're not Italian but it just seems like such a perfect dinner to start your week with." She was rambling. Stoic, composed, self-assured Grace Trevelyan-Grey was rambling. "Christian usually brings a different bottle of wine over for us to try from his many travels," she stammered. "Anyway, we'd love to have you over one Sunday if you're available."

Ana blushed, worrying that she'd just invited herself but Christian moved closer, one arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "That would be lovely, mother. Ana is quite the cook herself, maybe she could help you prepare things beforehand."

_Where the _fuck_ did that come from, Grey? Ana will come and help you cook? _Inwardly he cringed but his mother was so happy she damn near clapped.

"That would be wonderful, Christian!"

Carrick choked back the scotch that he'd just inhaled when he saw his son reach for this tiny beauty in front of him and then gripped Christian's shoulder. "It's settled then. We'll pick a date." There was no way in hell Carrick Grey was going to let an opportunity like this pass by. Not when he'd just seen his son smile and show affection. They were planning on going to Montana for the month of January but they could push it off if Ana wanted to come sooner rather than later.

"Nicole, I want to introduce you to my brother and his date for tonight." Elliot stepped behind them, tugging a surgically enhanced blond next to him. "Christian, Ana, my date Nicole Caloria."

Nicole's eyes grew to the size of saucers when she took in the man in front of her. Ana felt him tense, could feel the growl he held back but she smiled and nodded a greeting nonetheless. It wasn't that he was unused to that type of response, it was that it annoyed the shit out of him. So with an air of 'fuck you' he greeted his brothers latest slam piece and turned away without a word.

"I see Christian gave you your Christmas gift," Elliot said, pointing to Ana's neck and ears.

"My Christmas gift?" Heat bloomed on her face in a mighty wave of realization as Elliot's words hit their mark. He had bought these for her? Immediately her fingers fumbled at the necklace, its weight suffocating her with the implications and its price tag.

"He picked those out over a month ago for you." Elliot leaned forward and winked, "That's how I learned about you. Lover boy here was Christmas shopping when we were in Aspen for Thanksgiving. They look great on you by the way."

Christian didn't know whether to be happy or pissed. What he did know was that Ana looked as if she were about to pass out from the shock of it all. Should he tell her it was only a little over $125 thousand total? Shit, that was nothing compared to the price of the guitar. Or would that just make her more nervous?

"You bought this for me?" _Oh God,_ she was going to be sick.

Elliot grinned and slapped his brother on the arm, "Sorry, bro. You're the only guy in the world who gives a gift but doesn't tell someone it's a gift." He leaned in with a chuckle before steering his date from the room, "Good luck, man."

"Christian? What is he talking about?"

"I saw those in Aspen, thought they'd look good on you and bought them. For you."

She felt the surge of bile right before the panic threatened to take over but she swallowed it back and met his eyes.

"You...bought these for me. To give to me or to lend to me because I can't accept this…it's too much. And you gave me the D-45 and oh my God, Christian…"

His hand gripped hers and pulled her through the room, down the hall and into a dark room. With a whirl he had her pressed against the door to his father's study, the rest of the guests momentarily forgotten. His teeth were clenched so hard his jaw hurt.

"Did you just question my gift to you?" His eyes blazed with something. Anger? Rejection? Damaged pride? "Do they not please you?" He was hurt. Actually hurt that she'd reacted with hesitation instead of elation.

"I…they're beautiful! I _love_ them...I just…it's so much! It's _too_ much." She stuttered the words out, his hard thigh between hers enough to distract her from what she saw in his eyes. "The guitar, the diamonds," she held back the moan, "it's so much money to spend on me. Too much to spend on me." Was she making sense? She had no idea. He was literally making her dizzy with the pressure he was using against those damn balls inside of her.

"_Too much_?" he asked, his leg shifting so that it pressed against her sex. His confusion morphed into a sneer, his mercurial behavior shifting as it always did to find her scrambling to catch up. "Did your previous Doms not spend money on you either? No pampering, no gifts..." he let the comment linger.

And there it was, the dig again at the men who had come before him. Why he continued to compare himself to them was beyond her but she'd tired of the game weeks ago. Now it was just grating on her last nerve.

"Yes they spent money on me, Sir and I was uncomfortable with it even then."

"What did they buy you?" His thigh began to move in little thrusts upwards, the balls shifting inside of her with each pulse. His fingers weaved with hers, his arms lifting to pin her to the wall.

"Things," she gasped out as he ground into her, the heat on his leg beckoning him to explore further.

"Things. What _kind_ of _things_?"

Her mind blanked but he continued to press, one hand taking both of her slender wrists into it. With agonizing slowness he trailed down her face to the sensitive skin of her throat and down the softness of her arm, over to her waist and then to the exposed skin of her leg. "Tell me, Ana. What did these fuckers buy you?" He'd double it, buy something bigger, better, more expensive.

"Clothes, jewelry…" He was muddying her mind with tiny circles on her inner thigh. "Um…tickets to concerts, a trip to Paris…" His hand cupped her harshly.

"Paris? He took you to Paris? Your last Dom?" _What the fuck was that about? An international trip?_ Fuck, he'd take her to Moscow, Hong Kong, Sydney, anywhere she wanted to go.

"Yes." With practiced ease he pulled the lace aside and coated two fingers in her wetness, circling her clit before dipping down to collect more of the sweet nectar he wanted on his tongue.

"What else?"

"I…um…" _Circle, tap, dip. Circle, tap, dip. Circle, tap, dip. Does he really expect me to answer?_ "Music, movies, my car…" His fingers stopped, his hand stilled, his heart lurched forward with disgust.

"Your car?" One nod. "When did you get the car?"

"About 16 months ago," she huffed out, certain he was trying to deduce which Dom it was who had given it to her.

"Your last Dom then." Another nod and then a whimper when he put the lace back in place and released her wrists. He was pissed. She was driving a car that had been given to her by another man? Unacceptable. "So he had money then?" Well shit, that threw things off kilter.

She ignored his last two questions. She recognized this look. This was Christian Grey on the verge of losing it. Her teeth sunk into her lip in an effort to avoid asking the obvious. Were any of his ex-submissives driving around in cars he gave them? What was the difference?

For a minute they stared at each other until there was a sharp rap on the door. "Christian, mom wants to have everyone come and sit for dinner in five minutes." His eyes never left hers.

"We'll be right there, dad." With that he stood back and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. "On your knees, Anastasia."

He'd never done anything with any woman at his parents' house. With Elena the fear of getting caught had been too great and well, there wasn't any other woman he'd even brought here. But standing here, her red lips wrapped around his dick as he leaned forward, hands pressed against the door for leverage, he had to admit there was a naughtiness that appealed to him.

"Faster, Anastasia," he demanded, the sounds of people walking by just outside the door somehow heightening the entire experience. "Fuck me with that mouth of yours." His eyes closed in bliss. "Use your hands and make me cum now." She pulled off and jerked him a bit, a perfect red ring of her lipstick at the base of his shaft. With one hand she stroked him, her ruby lips sucking on the head of his dick until he whispered a harsh, "Fuck," and came in her mouth.

Satisfied she rested on her heels as he tucked himself back in. He shook his head and pulled her up. "I've got to say, you are quite skilled at giving head." He zipped and then stopped, the implication that she'd had enough practice to be so good at it stopping him in his tracks. Would he ever get over the jealousy that burned so deeply in him? "Come, let's eat."

She did her best to fix her lipstick and ensured her hair was in place as he escorted her to her seat in the center of the table. Ever the gentleman he pulled out her chair, ignoring Elliot's comment about dad's desk being the perfect height for a good fuck and then sat back with rye amusement as Lillian, the supreme bitch his little sister insisted on keeping around volleyed to sit next to him.

There was five years between Christian and Lillian but that hadn't stopped her from coming on to him every chance she could since she was 12. At first he'd just ignored her, chalking up her stupid annoying behavior as nothing more than part of who she was. But then she'd turned 16 and he'd come over to watch football with Elliot, spending the night as he often did back then so that he and his brother could drink in excess.

He'd woken to her in his bed, her hands on his thighs and her mouth on his dick. His first thought, naturally, was that Elena had come upstairs after having dinner and drinks with his parents but when he'd lifted the covers and saw dark hair instead of his Domme's platinum blond, he'd freaked out.

"Oh come on, Christian. No guy turns down a blow job," she'd whined when he literally kicked her out of bed and pulled on the jeans he'd tossed to the floor an hour before. "I've been told I give the best head in the entire school." Her shoulder was going to bruise where his foot had landed but she didn't care, she wanted him anyway.

"Get the fuck out of my room now before I drag you downstairs just like you are and tell my parents what you just did."

Her arms crossed over her naked chest, the sight of her tits disgusting him almost as the spit he could still feel on his dick. She was a kid for Christ's sake and more so, a vile bitch that he'd avoided for as long as he'd known her.

"You wouldn't," she had challenged but she reached for her shirt anyway. "You can't possibly tell me that you've never thought about me, not once over the last four years. I mean, you _are_ a guy after all."

He laughed at her, actually laughed in her face and pointed to the door. "Never in any of my meager thoughts of you did your body, or touching it, come to mind. If I have ever given you a moment of my time, it's only been to ridicule and mock you." He opened the door and pushed her out. "And to wonder why my sister puts up with you."

His rejection had cut deep. So deep that she had made it her life's mission to make him want her if only for one night. Nothing had ever worked in the ensuing years no matter how hard she tried or how tiny her bikini had been. Only Elliot fell for her brazen flirting but even he wouldn't go further than a quick hand job in the pool house once she'd turned 18.

Christian had remained elusive, the rumors that he was gay so much easier for her to swallow than his utter and total rejection of her but then he'd shown up here, with a girl close to her age and Lilly had grown furious. Festering anger ate at her until she was nothing more than a ball of rage sitting across from them.

She watched as he served the blue eyed brunette and grimaced when she did the same for him. Lilly saw the way he smiled at her and laughed at something she'd said. Over and over she caught him looking at that twit Ana the way she longed for him to look at her but it was when he leaned over and kissed her on the lips with such familiar ease that the rage exploded into a fury that wouldn't be contained.

Mia, totally unaware of the history her friend shared with her brothers, chattered on about her plans to go to Paris, asking Ana the occasional question about herself so as to include her in the table's discussion.

"You were there as well?" she'd asked, bread dangling from her fingertips before being dipped into the white wine butter sauce that her escargot had been cooked in.

"I was. About two years ago or so." Next to her she felt Christian tense up, his own bread halfway to his mouth while he waited for her to elaborate but Ana Steele was no fool. "It was lovely, I'm sure you'll have a wonderful experience."

"Oh we've been there as a family a few times but this will be my first time alone you know? I mean, I'll be there with the school but no other Grey's." Ana smiled knowingly. Mia Grey was as sheltered as they came but instead of being bratty and snotty, Ana found her to be sweet and kind if not a bit too bubbly. It was easy to see why everyone loved Mia and as relentless as she'd been with her questions, Ana had answered each one graciously, well aware that her presence at the dinner table was a big deal to the Grey's.

Even Gretchen, the Grey's house assistant had known who she was and had gone out of her way to meet the woman who had done the impossible. Her envy and ensuing hostility had been enough for Ana to refuse the wine she offered but Christian had seen the slight and had given the woman a look that had her running back to the kitchen with a bright red face.

"And you teach music, Ana?" Grace asked, optimistic for the first time as she watched her middle child dote on his date.

"I do. Mostly vocal coaching but I've also branched out into acoustic guitar and piano." Across from her Lillian huffed out a laugh which nobody but Ana caught. "I've also recently gotten into editing self published books. It allows me to use my major and lets me read for free." She ended on a giggle, Christian smiling at her and then resting his arm around the back of her chair as if it were the most natural thing to do.

Carrick exchanged a quick look with his wife, his own face alight with hopeful joy at his middle son sitting to his left. "Christian, I ran into Ros at the Rotary Club a few nights ago. She told me your Mexico City deal was hitting a few bumps."

"A few," he started, shifting forward in his chair and rebuttoning his tux jacket on habit. "The local government there wants a percentage of our exports which would cut into our profits considerably. And we're not talking one or two percent, we're talking 12 to 14 depending on where the goods are being shipped. The whole government is so corrupt down there it's proven very difficult to work with but we're intent on getting the acquisition completed by end of January."

"Seems like optimistic timing considering you're at a standstill right now."

At that Christian laughed, his hand moving to the back of Ana's neck where he began to rub the tiny knots he felt under his fingers. Across from them Lillian grew hot with envy.

"They'll sell and the government will take our offer or the entire company will collapse by March. That's close to twenty thousand locals out of a job. No way will they mess that up." His confidence was warranted since this was, after all, what he excelled at.

"Twenty thousand?" Ana repeated, shocked at how much was resting on his shoulders.

"That's just in Mexico. Another ten thousand in the US, Canada and Grenada would ultimately lose their jobs or at the very least their benefits. Plus our plan is to create ten thousand new jobs over ten years so those would be considered a loss as well."

"Forty thousand. Wow, that's a lot of pressure," she said with a concern he'd never heard before. As the conversation slipped back into mundane topics he leaned forward and kissed her jaw.

"Now you know why your presence is so necessary to me. I need the outlet as much as I need the escape."

"A distraction," she said quietly so that no one could hear.

"The best kind," he said just as quietly with a wink. It pleased her immensely to know that she brought him a modicum of peace.

She blushed, her smile sweet and sincere. Without thinking Ana rested her hand on his knee, the gesture tiny but noticed by every single person at the table.

"Any resolutions for the new year?" Grandma Trevelyan asked over a glass of Pinot Grigio. "Mine is to drink more."

"It should be to drink less, dear," Grandpa Trevelyan said grumpily next to her, raising his own glass of wine to his mouth.

"Plant the garden I've always wanted and keep it alive," Grace offered, gesturing to her brother in a round robin style game. When it came to Lilly her eyes settled on Ana, brown iris's burning a hatred for the object of her disdain.

"I've had the same resolution for nine years now and this is the year I'm going to make it happen." One brow raised in challenge but Ana only smiled sweetly, hiding her smirk behind her napkin.

"Nine years, huh? Seems it might be time to find another resolution," Elliot muttered, cracking his lobster with gusto.

"Never. I will never give up on it until I've gotten what I want." They all heard the conviction of her words and felt the passion behind it. Mia seemed to be the only one not aware of the subtleties going on around her, her voice piping up just as things began to get awkward.

"Well mine is to go to Paris and make good grades. So half of my resolution is going to be complete by the second day of the year!" She laughed and raised her glass, the friends around her doing the same.

But not Lillian. She sat and stared and festered while the rest of the Grey's and their guests partook in the festivities.

When it got to Christian he shrugged. Never one to play stupid games like this or to set goals for the sake of setting a goal he'd not participated in something so trivial before but now he was on the spot, Ana waiting for his answer. He had everything he'd ever wanted, more money than he could ever spend, more power than the President of the US. He'd already travelled the world and he was sleeping with the most beautiful woman on the planet. What else was there?

"If I'm being forced to choose a resolution, I guess it would be to create two thousand new and sustainable jobs without the loss of established personnel." Carrick nodded, clearly pleased with Christian's answer and nodded to Ana to indicate that it was her turn.

Uncomfortable with such saturated attention Ana sat up straight, her face hot with what she was sure was a blush. This was why, even though she could sing and play music better than almost anyone else she knew, she couldn't preform in front of a crowd. Her heart raced, her tongue became thick with fear, the very air around her grew heavy and oppressive.

_Say something you idiot!_ she chided herself, wringing her fingers together underneath the table.

"Mine is to perform at a venue one night this year. Ideally it would be me with a small acoustic band. I'd like to do mostly covers but maybe throw some of my own stuff in there as well though that's very difficult to do." Across from her Lilly rolled her eyes and studied her nails. "Nothing big, I don't even care if no one shows up. I just need to do it. I can teach others how to get up on stage but to do it myself is something I haven't overcome yet so I'd like to jump that hurdle this year."

"Why is your own stuff harder than the covers? I'd think that would be easier," one of Carrick's sisters asked.

"Well," Ana started, totally ill at ease with her time in the spotlight. "Sharing your songs is akin to reading from your diary to a room full of people. And music, when I play or when I sing, it's my soul I'm putting out there already. So to put your heart out there and open yourself up to ridicule and criticism of the things that are most important to you, it's difficult."

"I'd never thought of it that way," Christian muttered while he watched her, his hand squeezing hers where it still rested on his knee.

Enthralled. It was the only word to describe the look on their sons face when Ana spoke. It was hard not to jump up and down and burst into tears with relief but if their years with Christian had taught them anything, it was two steps forward, one step back with him. But to see him like this; personable and affectionate, attentive and interested, it made all those years of counselling, all those Sunday mornings, all those awkward dinners worth it.

"Come on," Mia had said when the dessert had been cleared away and the men stood to retire to the study for cigars and more scotch. "Let's go see who Ryan Seacrest has on right now."

Christian rose, helping Ana to stand. He saw the pink on her cheeks and the way she kept squeezing her legs together and while he wanted nothing more than to relieve her, he had to admit that knowing she was needy for him was heady.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Steele?" he whispered when everyone had left the room.

She dropped her arms and gave him a look that let him know _exactly_ how she was feeling. Frustrated.

"Just a bit longer and then I'll remedy your situation."

_I could slap that smirk right off your face,_ she thought. _That would help remedy my situation._

He let her go at the archway leading to the great room where the women had gathered. A quick glance told him that Lilly was there as well but she was sulking in a corner and half in the bag, hardly a threat to Ana. Reassured by her demeanor and the way she had interacted with his family at dinner he left her with a kiss to the temple and a promise to take her on a tour of the house in a bit, his true meaning clear when he squeezed her butt before walking away.

This had always been the one part of the night in which he felt comfortable. Sitting in his father's study with a good scotch, the scent of cigars faint as his grandfather and uncles smoked on the terrace, and the familiar sight of his brother sprawled out across the hunter green couch against the wall. They'd speak about the economy or about politics, airing their grievances about taxes and wars and gun laws and as tightlipped as Christian was in most situations, in this room he'd always been able to relax and engage.

But tonight, not ten minutes after his father had started ranting about the state of the current administration did he itch to leave the room to be with Ana again. He sat for as long as he could, interjected a few comments here and there and bided his time until he could sneak away and not be missed. Was she having a good time with the women of the family? Was she being bombarded with questions?

_I'll just check on her, make sure she doesn't need anything._

Without a sound he made his exit only to find the one person he didn't want to see, her perfectly manicured hand toying with the sapphire pendant around her neck. He didn't so much as give her a second glance but she grabbed his arm when he strode past, his instinct kicking in so that she was pressed against the wall behind her, both hands behind her back in less than one second.

"Don't ever fucking touch me, Lillian," he snarled, the scent of her perfume making him nauseous.

"Last chance to help me make this year's resolution, Christian," she purred, her face only inches from his. "Come on, just one chance." Her eyes zeroed in on his mouth, her face tilting towards him as if on autopilot but he stopped her with a vicious grab of her chin, pushing her head back sharply enough to hit the wall behind her with a small thud. Around her wrists he gripped harder, wanting nothing more than to really hurt this annoying slip of a girl if for no other reason than that she'd finally get the message.

"Never. It will _never_ happen. Not in this lifetime or a thousand more. I find you vile."

"You didn't think I was vile when I had your big dick in my mouth upstairs," she shot back, her embarrassment and the unfortunate consumption of too many vodka tonics catching up to her. "I had you ready to cum in seconds, don't tell me you've never wanted that again." Her leg rose in an attempt to wrap around him but he shifted to avoid her, her chin still in his hand when she grinned and said, "I've never had a dick as big as yours. I just want one more taste of your cock."

He felt her then, the calming yet electrifying presence of Ana whenever they were in the same room together. His hands dropped and his jaw relaxed but inside his heart hammered out a fearful beat. _Shit!_ Lillian giggled and stepped out of his grasp, her dress hiked up to an indecent spot, her face flushed with desire when she locked eyes with the object of her hatred.

Shocked, alarmed and very confused Ana stood there taking it all in as the bitch stalked up to her.

"Oh, didn't Christian tell you we have something of a…history?" she laughed, rubbing her wrists as she stood so that they were only a few inches apart. "It's a shame he's wasting that gorgeous cock on someone like you. This world, this home, this life," she waved her dainty hands around, "you don't belong in it."

"Enough!" he finally managed, Lillian scampering off before he could physically attack her again. When he looked up he saw the confusion and if he looked carefully, the hurt there. "Ana, I know what that looked like but I assure you nothing of the sort was happening. Lillian has had a school girl crush on me for years and it appears as if you being here has pushed her past infatuation and straight into nuts."

She'd come down this hallway to find a bathroom so that she could take out the damn balls that were driving her insane. It had been hours of shifting and squeezing, her g-spot so primed she was afraid she'd have an orgasm if she sneezed but relief was the furthest thing she was getting right now.

"I thought…" she stammered, cursing at herself for her stammering. Lillian was right, she _didn't_ belong in this world where families rang in the New Year with a sit down dinner that cost as much as she made in a year. She'd been raised with manners and etiquette but she still had waited to mimic what Mia and Grace did at the table, reaching for the appropriate fork or drinking from the appropriate glass. What came so effortlessly to everyone there was brand new to her and while she could appreciate the opulence, she also was uncomfortable with it.

"What, Ana?" he asked carefully, his hand resting on the crook of her arm. "What did you think?"

"I thought you said you hadn't been with anyone here?"

"I haven't. Not willingly at least." She shifted away from him, her breath catching as the balls moved again.

"You need some relief, baby?"

_Baby_. She should make that a hard limit because it killed her every time.

"I need a bathroom," was her answer. She was keenly aware that he'd not answered her question.

"You need an orgasm," he retorted with a smirk. "Come with me." At the bottom of the stairs he paused and laughed, "Literally."

_What I need is an answer. And to not be jealous of that twat. Surely he'd tell me if he'd been with her, right?_

At the top of the stairs he veered right and then left, pulling her into what appeared to be a teenagers room complete with sports posters, overstuffed bookshelves and a queen sized bed.

"My room," he explained, flicking the lights on and then leading her towards the bathroom. At the threshold he paused again, this time turning her towards him. "Years ago, shortly after I moved back from Harvard I spent the night here after tying one on with my brother. I woke up to Lillian blowing me and promptly threw her off the instant I woke enough to realize it was her. Then I kicked her out of the room and since then, her entire agenda when I'm around is to finish what she started." He took a deep breath, "And no, Mia has no idea."

Her eyes grew wide but she made no move towards him or towards the door. _Why am I explaining myself? I don't owe her anything._ But he couldn't help himself because he needed Ana to trust him even if it meant exposing some of his soft underbelly. One hand extended to her waist, his fingers trailing over the silver beading he found there.

"Ana. I know what that looked like but I have never been interested in her in anyway. I have less than zero interest in her now. The only woman I'm interested in is standing in front of me. I told you that you were the first woman to come here with me and I meant that. No woman has ever been invited to walk through those doors until tonight."

She smiled and dipped her lashes down, the length of them still mesmerizing to him. His breath caught at the delicate beauty of her, the feminine call that seeped from every single pore, drawing him in until he had to bathe in it.

"You don't owe me an explanation, Christian." But damn was she grateful for one.

"Normally I'd agree with you but since you just saw me in a position I've taken with you often, as recently as two hours ago actually, you do deserve one. That girl is a pariah."

"I could tell. She should date Elliot," she giggled, his fingers tightening on her hip bone.

"I'm pretty sure she jerked him off in the pool house but he runs his mouth a lot so he could have been fucking around with me for all I know." He laughed and pushed her mouth shut when it fell open in shock.

"So...her resolution?"

At that he shook his head and smiled, the sight of those perfectly white teeth all but blinding her. "One guess."

"To sleep with you." She said it lightly but inside it made her blood boil.

"On her best and my worst day it wouldn't happen. Besides the fact that I don't participate in conventional sexual relationships, and discounting my disgust of her, I'm with you. And fidelity is something I take very seriously."

"As do I, Mr. Grey," she said with conviction, her desire for his approval so deep that it caused her to tremble. She waited for her instructions, eager to please him in any way she could but none came. Instead he indicated for her to look behind her. She turned, the delicate column of her neck calling to him in the most primal of demands.

The woman in the photograph was so obviously his mother it made her gasp. "It's you!"

"Indirectly. It's the woman who birthed me. I had forgotten I'd put that there but on Christmas I was up here and took notice of it."

"What was her name?" she asked, grimacing at the question immediately.

"Ella. This was taken two years before she died so I was two or so. I found myself up here wondering where I was when this was taken." _Why am I telling her all of this?_ "Anyway, I haven't looked at this in years, I was caught off guard with how similar our eyes are."

"They're not similar, they're identical." She turned to him and reached up, stopping her hand just as it had been about to touch his face. "You have the most amazing eyes I've ever seen in my entire life."

He smiled, uncharacteristically pleased with her compliment and lifted her onto the desk.

"I could say the same about you. I've never seen eyes so blue and clear and defiant before."

Her brows knit, her belly clenching when he pushed open her thighs, stepped between her legs and pressed his hand onto her sex.

"Defiant?"

"Yes, defiant. Tell me, Anastasia, where were you headed when you found me in the hall?"

_Shit. How does he know?_

"The bathroom," she exclaimed as one finger pushed the lace aside and then slid up the wet slit of her pussy.

"And what were you going to do there, Ms. Steele?" His mouth latched onto the tender skin under her ear. "And remember, I don't like being lied to."

God he put her out of sorts so quickly she never had time to even try to keep up with him. He sucked harder, her gasp and wiggle making him chuckle.

"I need these balls out, Sir."

His hand pulled back and slapped at her mound. "You were going to take them out without my permission? Is that what you're telling me my sweet little sub?"

The sting was delicious. She took a few seconds to get her head together but it was a few seconds too long because he began to slap right over where she wanted him most, the wet sound of his hand so erotic it had both of them panting.

"Yes! I was!" _Oh God I'm so close, please don't stop._

He stopped and pressed firmly, holding her right on the edge, the intensity so great she began to shake. "Why? Why would you even _think_ to do that unless I told you to? Have you forgotten that you have a Master?"

"I was trying to talk to your grandmother," he pressed harder, her clit pulsing against the heel of his hand, "but all I could think about was how badly I needed to get off," she huffed out, her control all but gone. "It's been hours, Sir and I'm so worked up that I couldn't concentrate," he slid the tip of one finger inside of her and gently tugged on the string of the balls. "on what...on what she was saying...oh God, Sir...please..."

Oh he liked her like this. Needy, desperate, begging, wanting. His for the taking.

"Imagine how good it would feel to have these inside of you while I fucked your ass," he moaned, his own control hanging by a shred. She was raining down on his hand, the desire to bury himself inside that wet sheath all but killing him. "Long, slow strokes until you came so hard you passed out."

"Please let me cum, Sir," she begged, ignoring him all together. "Please…"

"In my mouth, I want to taste the orgasm I'm going to give you."

Without another second of hesitation he tore the panties right off of her and went to his knees, the sight of her glistening bare pussy stirring a lust so profound he almost came on the spot. He licked her clean and then held her still when she came against his tongue, the sweet taste of her want for him covering his mouth.

He pulled her down and sat on the bed, tossing her over his knee, his cock straining against the black pants where her belly pressed against it.

"You," he started, spanking the left cheek harshly, "are," he continued onto the right, "mine," he finished, his hand landing roughly on the seam of her sex. As mad as he was that she was going to disobey him, he wanted to own her pleasure more. "Do not ever," another blow to each cheek, "defy me again!" He ended with four smacks to her clit, the bud so sensitive that Ana jumped and twisted despite the fact that he was holding her hands behind her back.

With slow deliberation he tugged until the silver balls fell to the floor, hot streaks of unbridled pleasure causing her to shake uncontrollably.

"Now," he said, unbuttoning his pants and stroking the thick veined cock that sprung out, "I want to fuck you in my old bedroom. Turn around, keep your feet on the floor and lay your cheek on the bed. Spread your legs and hold yourself open for me, Anastasia. Let me see what's mine."

She did as she was told, his hands roaming over the pink globes of her ass while his tongue licked his lips to collect the last lingering taste of her. "Tell me you want me to fuck you, Anastasia." He tapped the head of his cock against her clit. "Beg me to fuck this tight little cunt of yours."

A soft moan, the involuntary rise of her hips against him and then the soft plea, "Please fuck me, Sir."

He rocked against her, reveling in the sight of the wetness that coated his dick as he ran in through those slick folds he found such gratification in.

"Again."

"Fuck me, please, Sir. I want you to cum. Please, fuck me." Her words were muffled by the blanket covering the bed and for a second he hesitated, enjoying the moment but then he looked at her and took in the sight of this woman, bent over his childhood bed, ass spread, dress hiked up, and, well, a man could only wait so long when bliss was inches away.

With a hiss he speared her, watching as her body accepted his, enamored with the way she took every inch of him. Slowly he slid in and out, never once looking away from where his body invaded hers. So damn intimate.

She was swollen, soaking wet and hyper sensitive from the hours of carrying around the ben-wah balls, the blowjob in the office and the excruciating foreplay from before but the feel of his thick cock inside of her coupled with the awareness of his intense stare turned her on so quickly she began to shudder immediately.

"You are so fucking hot, Anastasia." His thrusts became rougher as his fingers gripped the curve of her hips. "So damn tight and hot and wet." He groaned, "So wet... shit your pussy drives me crazy." He pushed her lower back down so that he hit that spot inside of her that had her in tears.

He was gonna cum. Much faster than he wanted to but between the taboo of being on his bed and the way she felt, he didn't have much of a chance. He pulled out and jerked himself off onto her back, his fingers immediately finding her g-spot so that she bucked beneath him with her own release, his cum coating her while his fingers finished her off.

When they were spent, when his essence had begun to dry and she'd finally caught her breath, he wiped her down with a wet washcloth and stood her up, straightening her dress with a smirk.

"Sorry about your hair," he said with a chuckle which only grew to a laugh when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

"Oh my God! They'll know what we were doing up here! Help me fix this," she pleaded, scrambling to the bathroom to look for a brush. Christian followed her, leaning against the door jam with his arms crossed over his chest and watched with amusement as she struggled to restore order to the smooth updo she'd started the evening with.

"I can assure you that Elliot already knows and that nobody else is even aware that we're gone. In case you didn't notice, my parents like to drink." Kicking off from the door he wet his fingers and helped her to smooth down the frizz he'd created while she repined and brushed. "There," he said triumphantly. "Good as new. Now come on, we've got less than ten minutes before the New Year."

"Will you kiss me at midnight, Mr. Grey?"

He stopped and turned, giving her a look she could only decipher as incredulous. "Of course I will."

At the door he made a show about pocketing her panties, her cheeks heating up with embarrassment when he brazenly brought them to his nose and inhaled before stuffing them into the pocket of his tuxedo pants.

At the bottom of the stairs Lilly waited, her lips puckered in clear annoyance while she watched the two glide down the stairs. _OK, I can admit it, she's pretty. And he obviously likes her but I've got history with him and that trumps everything._

So with a toss of her shoulders she moved to the banister and glared at them both, the sound of Ana's laughter and sight of Christian's smile fueling a jealousy that would burn for years to come.

"What were you doing up there?" she blurted out, her immaturity shining through.

Christian stopped, took Ana's hand and kissed it, excusing himself as if he didn't even notice the girl stomping her foot right in front of him. When he was across the foyer, his eyes still on Ana to ensure her comfort she leaned forward slightly, the twinkle in her eye coupled with the flush of her cheeks evidence of a satisfied woman.

"Well? What were you doing upstairs besides being rude by leaving the party?" Lilly spat out again.

Ana smiled and smoothed down her dress again, deliberately pausing at the swell of her hips.

"Just helping you out with your resolution." Lilly's eyes grew wide, her hand dangerously wrapped around the delicate stem of a champagne flute. Ana winked, "Looks like I can check that one off for this year and by this time tomorrow, I can check off next year's for you too."

She took two steps before looking over her shoulder at the stunned and bitter girl behind her. "And just in case you were wondering since you'll never know firsthand, he fucks like a God. Every. Single. Time."


	14. Chapter 14

John Flynn tapped the pencil against his lips as a way to distract from the smile that was tugging them upwards. In six years he'd yet to see his favorite patient actually ask for help but today, Christian Grey wasn't just asking for John's opinion, it appeared as if he would actually take it.

"Logically, yes, Christian. It makes no sense that Anastasia would claim that spontaneous sex or sex in any capacity outside of BDSM was unattainable to her yet she has participated in just that type of sex multiple times with you. However, clinically, it makes perfect sense." He waited as the man in front of him stood up and walked to the window, his hands in his hair as he paced back and forth.

"Explain."

Dr. Flynn allowed himself a smile and laid his case bare. "You yourself have said, countless times over the course of our hundreds of sessions that you could not ever partake in vanilla sex." He held up his hands and rolled his eyes, "Your word, not mine. And yet, you have admitted to not only participating in that exact type of intercourse but initiating it, enjoying it, and at times, preferring it. Tell me why that is."

Christian's pace slowed as he chewed on his thoughts. It was true, more and more his fantasies and plans for Ana had involved less of the playroom and more of her bedroom and lately he'd toyed with the idea of taking her in his own bed for no other reason than that he wanted to see the chestnut veil of her hair spread over the light blue sheets. It was also true that he immensely enjoyed the times they were unguarded with each other and yes, he'd felt a different kind of connection with her in comparison with his other subs but she'd needed him differently and he'd met her need as any good Dom would have.

"I guess I see my role as her Dominant to be one in which her needs are met even if that means altering my own needs." With a shrug of his shoulders he tore the wrapper off one of the mints John always kept on his desk. "I get off on the control and controlling her emotions by giving her what she requires works for me."

"Yet you have never, in 14 years of sexual activity, altered your boundaries or your rules for anyone else including the woman who introduced you to the lifestyle."

The mint cracked between clenched teeth, a dull ache radiating up one side of Christian's temple as he realized the quagmire he'd walked right into.

"I am not talking about Elena Lincoln ever again so drop it," he said with a finger pointing at the good doctor's face.

Flynn lifted his arms in surrender and shrugged. "I'm not asking you to. I'm just making the clinical observation that the person who introduced you to BDSM and the person who you trusted more than anyone for the longest and most impressionable time of your life was unable to convince you to change your behavior despite you telling me that she all but begged it of you."

Christian shoved his hands into his Amosu suit pants and swallowed hard. Anytime he thought of Elena he felt conflicted. She had, without provocation or request, shown him a way to be physical with a woman and had, as a natural consequence, forced him to get good grades and quit his destructive behavior. She had also fucked him up in the head so thoroughly that it had taken five years of intense therapy for him to even realize it.

In many ways he hated that woman but he had to concede that it was her actions, despite their vulgar nature, that had helped to shape him into the man he was today. It was she who had taught him what it meant to be a good Dom but not because she had been a good Domme to him. No, it was quite the opposite and it had taken years and years of Christian's own research and exploration to understand that humiliation was not something he had to partake in in order to control.

He'd regretted fully the way he'd treated those first few dozen submissives he'd practiced on in the clubs and dungeons throughout the world. It wasn't until he'd taken his first contracted sub that he'd really understood the responsibility he had and it wasn't until his fifth that he'd begun to excel at the mental side of BDSM.

If he were honest with himself, he knew, even at the tender age of 15 when Elena Lincoln had first sucked him off in her kitchen with his hands bound with twine, that she was one twisted bitch. But he'd been desperate and vulnerable and easy prey for the 35 year old woman who strutted around in a bikini and sheer beach cover up while he cleared the underbrush from her backyard. So when she'd called him inside one day and handed him a cold drink he'd taken it and had done his best to keep his eyes off of the tits she'd put on display for him. He'd been successful and had turned to go, a casual thank you interrupted when she slapped his face and then kissed him. Startled, he'd reacted with a boner and a flood of embarrassment until she'd snagged his wrists in the rough thin rope and then dropped to her knees.

For weeks she taunted him with promises of fucking and flogging, whatever that was. At the time his knowledge of sex was limited to magazines and the few videos Elliot had smuggled into the house but the excitement he got from looking at those pictures versus the feel of her lips on his wasn't comparable. So when she'd finally told him that in order for him to fuck she'd have to tie him up, he'd willingly let her do it, his fear kicking in only when she secured his hands to the posts of the bed she shared with her husband.

She'd promised not to touch him and in the six years they'd spent together not one time did she ever attempt to. It was the only thing she'd ever shown him respect over. Everything else, every scenario, every scene, every toy and situation she could dream up she'd ordered him to do without so much as a thought to his comfort. At 15 Christian had been so naïve, so desperate for human touch that nothing she threw at him would have deterred him. Beatings without provocation, humiliation, multiple partners, intense pain, being loaned out, acts that defied reality...none of it went too far so long as at the end of it all he had pleased her.

It was true the on occasion she had wanted normal sex with him but she'd done such a number on his mind that he truly believed he was incapable of it. Not just incapable, but fearful of it. His denial of her always led to the most harsh of their sessions but nothing she did changed his mind.

So when it had been his turn to switch to Dom he'd done so with brutal selfishness just as he'd been taught. Finding a willing woman to practice on or to hire as his sub for the night had never been difficult. He'd been blessed with movie star good looks, a body that was literal perfection and a cock that had woman all but throwing themselves at him. Occasionally he'd come across a true machoist and while those sessions were satisfying in the sense that he'd unleash aggression and eventually a climax, he'd always found the harshness lacking.

It had taken formal training before he'd understood that the way he'd been taught, the way he'd been treated, had been all wrong. So he'd done what he'd always done when he wanted something. He'd chosen to be the best and then took the appropriate steps to get there, relentless in his pursuit until he'd reached it. He was, by reputation and by his own admission, the best Dom there was and Elena Lincoln had nothing to do with it.

"Christian?" Flynn called from his chair, aware that his patient had gone off into his own head again. "Tell me why you have enjoyed the times that you have gone off course and have engaged in what the world considers normal sex? Perhaps if you can understand your concessions, you can understand Anastasia's as well."

John smiled when he heard the tearing of another wrapper, aware that the nervous tick was Christian Grey's version of thinking.

"To be honest, John, I hadn't thought past the fact that I liked the vanilla sex we'd had. The first time we ever fucked was so unexpected I didn't have time to think about it at the time. I just wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything or anybody in my entire life. When it was over only then did I even realize that it had been what I consider vanilla but by then it was too late to care and the truth was, it had been unbelievably satisfying. Why does she get me to lower my guard? I have no idea. Maybe I see a bit of myself in her. Lost and abused, salvaged yet not saved. Loved but unaccepting." He sat down, crossed one ankle onto his knee and gave the doctor a smug look. _Wasn't expecting all that now were you you pompous prick._

But John Flynn just made a few notes on his big yellow legal pad and then pursed his lips. "That was the first time you have ever used the word abused when speaking of your past. That was also the first time you have ever acknowledged that you were loved. Took you six years, 539 hours and by a quick estimate, around a quarter million dollars."

Christian laughed and reached for another mint.

_So we aren't finished here_, Flynn thought as he watched the young man across from him. He'd never, not even when _the incident_ happened, seen Christian Grey so introspective. Part of him wanted to pounce, to throw advice and encouragement at the man but the part that knew Grey held back. Silent, observing, aware. If he had any chance of getting through to such a stubborn son-of-a-bitch he was going to have to play this cool and smart.

"Perhaps it boils down to the fact that Anastasia has also been so overwhelmed in those time that she herself doesn't have time to think it through either."

Christian nodded. "Quite possibly true." _She is so responsive to me..._ When Flynn said no more he leaned forward, hands out as if in question. "So how do I convince her that what she thought was possible isn't the only avenue?"

"You're trying to convince her to participate in more traditional sex with you," John stated, shock and awe and giddiness knocking around in his chest.

"Yes and no. I want her well and part of that is dealing with this fear of hers." He leaned back and crossed his hands over his lap, his dick growing hard at the all this talk about Ana and sex. "And yes, I would also like to add more non-BDSM into our sex life since I find it so satisfying."

"Then you need to understand where she's at first and that I can't really help you with unless I speak to her first."

"Do your best, Doc. For a quarter million you can make some educated guesses." No way in hell was he asking Ana to come here and spill her secrets if she wouldn't tell them to him first.

"If she were abused as a child as you assume, then her choice of BDSM isn't all that unusual. Many sexual abuse victims choose to have physical interactions on their own terms. Some become promiscuous, some become celibate, others are able to continue normally and others find a method that works for them even if it seems unconventional. If she has been through a traumatic experience and has convinced herself that this type of intimacy is all she's capable of, then you need to respect that and allow her to come to terms with the fact that she has, on multiple occasions, had the very type of sex she's afraid of."

"But how does she not realize it herself?"

"Without speaking to her I can only make assumptions but my guess would be that she sees you as her Dominant and therefore sees any type of sex with you as falling into that category."

Christian shook his head and chewed the mint. "No, that doesn't work because she was unable to do it with," he swallowed and grimaced, "her other Dom. The spontaneous sex at least."

"Well, then the question then becomes why _you_? What about _you_ and your relationship has allowed her to feel safe? If she claims she's unable to respond in a positive way to physical intimacy yet has with you, then she probably doesn't realize the level of comfort she's attained within your relationship."

"Arrangement," Christian corrected to which John just rolled his neck and repeated his question.

"What have you done to allow her to feel such safety that she has willingly given you access to her that nobody else has ever been granted?"

At that Christian sat back and breathed deeply for the first time all hour. It pleased him immensely to have that trust from her.

"I've given her more power in our arrangement than I have all of my other subs combined. Elena included." The admission rocked him, floored him, made him feel hot and cold and everything in between.

"How has that worked for you? Allowing Anastasia to have some decision making authority?" He waited patiently, his pencil making light circles in the corner of the paper while the minutes ticked by. Over the years he'd become accustomed to Christian's long, thought out responses but being so close to a breakthrough was making him edgy.

"Surprisingly, it's worked out well for me. For both of us," he rushed to add. "I became a Dom to help me deal with the stress of work and life and to find sexual gratification and I felt as if I've gotten that over the years. But Ana's brought that…ease, that relaxation to another level for me." _Could it be because I've given her allowances I'd not previously given? _He reached for another mint.

"You seem a bit nervous by this new awareness, Christian."

"Not nervous, John. Perplexed. Befuddled. Amused on some level. It's ironic, no? She having some control has enabled me to achieve the highest level of satisfaction in any Dom/sub arrangement I've ever had." He scoffed and checked his watch. It was the first Wednesday of January and the first time Ana would be coming over during the week for a scheduled session.

"Tell me something. Don't think about it, just answer it. Your most exciting sexual experience to date was?"

"When I took Anastasia on the stairs during our first meeting. I felt like a fucking teenager." He laughed, "And then I felt like God."

"And your most erotic experience?"

"The first time I slept with her and woke with her. I took her from behind, held her close and tasted her skin the entire time." He began to see the pattern Flynn was pointing out to him, the tendrils of unease tickling his gut.

"The most satisfying experience?"

_Fuck._ "The night I frightened her and then took her with slow care at her request."

_So he won't say making love. Not that I'm surprised by his denial._ "Why was that more satisfying than, say, a good whipping or a forced orgasm?"

He didn't even have to think about his answer this time. "Because she needed me. She needed me to make her feel safe and cared for and alive and that in turn made me feel like I had something to offer her other than my cock or my money."

Flynn felt the swell of pride. "And what was that, Christian? What did you offer her that night?"

"Me. I offered her me and it was enough."

* * *

His head was still spinning when Mrs. Taylor showed him the chicken Kiev she'd prepared. Blankly he nodded at her suggestion of the wine and then retreated to his room to shower and see if he couldn't clear his mind. The hot water ran in rivulets down the cut muscles of his chest and abdomen, each line stinging skin that was sensitized and wanting. He _wanted _her touch, _wanted_ to see her mouth close on the flat disks of his nipples, _wanted_ to watch as her fingers skipped down his chest.

_Get a fucking grip, Grey! Dominant. Submissive. You just admitted to your therapist that you had let this chick have control and now you're imagining her touching you. You're losing your edge and if you keep up this bull shit you'll lose your mind too._

_I offered her myself_, he repeated on a loop in his head, the bubble of panic growing with each pass of the words. _How could I have done that? How could I have let my guard down enough to not realize just how fucked up we've made this? _He yanked on his gray trousers and leaned against the dresser, convincing himself that to deviate from the familiar, to let himself get carried away by emotions like so many of his subs had was nothing more than a one way ticket to Nowheresville. It simply didn't work for him.

_Must be the stress from the Mexico City deal that's got me acting like a pussy._

No matter, that deal would soon be tied up in a neat little package anyway. _Maybe it's the fact that I can relate to her as an abuse victim. Maybe it's because she unarms me with those damn eyes and the fact that she's the single most beautiful woman in the world._ He huffed and stood, shaking his shoulders back as he donned a black t-shirt. Regardless of reason, he needed to stamp down whatever it was he'd let bloom between them and get back to business.

She'd left her last Dom because he'd fallen for her and Christian had let go a number of submissives for the exact same reason. Two peas in a pod. So perfect for each other so long as they kept to their roles. With each step towards his office he felt surer of himself, more focused on what needed to change and ready to proceed as necessary in order to get back to where he was most comfortable.

But at six when Taylor knocked to announce Ms. Steele's arrival he felt the tiny sliver of firm ground underneath him shift. Rounding the corner he saw her waiting, her long hair swinging behind her back as she moved to the window in the great room to take in the view.

"Ms. Steele," he said with a smile, his greeting as genuine as it was kind.

"Mr. Grey, it's lovely to see you again so soon." She meant it. As much as she'd argued with herself over adding a few more days a month into their agreement and as much as she'd hesitated in coming tonight, the fact was that the weekend of New Years had been the most fun she'd had in a long time.

He'd kissed her at midnight just as he'd promised, his lips as sweet and gentle as they could be, her hands on his waist and his on her face. Around her she knew his family was watching but no part of her cared so long as she was getting his attention. When he'd finally pulled away she was left breathless and blinking, the dimmed lights of the living room too bright in her heightened state. For a beat they just stared at each other but then the room began to move with the rest of the revelers making their way to each person to wish them a Happy New Year.

Mia had begged, pleaded and almost cried for them to come out with her and her friends to the club but only Elliot and Nicole made the trip. Ana would have loved to have gone but Christian had hit his limit as far as interactions went so they'd said their goodbyes twenty minutes after the ball dropped and had gone back to Escala where they'd proceeded to drink almost two bottles of a vintage 1996 Bordeaux from Moulis that he'd said cost as much as her car. She'd been appalled when he poured it over her naked body on the bed in the playroom but then he'd turned on her favorite vibrator and well, the wine was the last thing she cared about.

Somehow they'd woken up in her bed around noon, sticky yet sated. Christian had been far less affected by the wine but Ana had needed to down two Advil and a good three glasses of water before she felt somewhat normal. He'd gone easy on her and had sweetly bent her over the arm of the couch in the great room before she left for the week, his hand print on her left cheek and the occasional drip of his cum the only evidence that he'd fucked her.

With his hand on her lower back he guided her to the kitchen and watched as she washed her hands and set about plating up dinner. He was insanely happy to have her here. So much so that it scared the ever loving shit out of him. _Nobody should have this effect on me._

"You've had a good week so far?" he asked while she poured them water.

"I have. My friends from Montesano are coming up next Tuesday to help me find a venue to preform at." She stopped and looked him straight in the eye. "I am dead set on fulfilling my resolution this year. I feel like," her hands waived in the gingham pot holders Gail had left out, "I don't know…I'm finally ready. Confident."

"I'm looking forward to it immensely." He'd be front and center for every show she booked.

_Oh my God!_ "You…you want to come?"

"Of course I do." He said it with such conviction that she knew he was being truthful. "I think you have real talent, more than most artists today, and I'm looking forward to seeing that put on display. And as your Dom," he poured her a glass of wine and lifted his up in a salute, "it's my duty to ensure that you meet your goals in and out of the bedroom so I will be pushing you along until you feel that you've done what you set out to do."

_My Dom._ It was becoming harder and harder to remember that.

They ate in comfortable silence while sleet beat against the large window until Christian sat back and dabbed his napkin at the corners of his mouth. He refilled their goblets without asking if Ana would like more and pulled out the tablet with his schedule on it.

"I leave on Monday for a week in Mexico City," he started, his finger swiping until he'd found the page he was looking for. "I'll be gone a full seven days so I'd like to see you that Monday when I return and have you stay until Wednesday night or Thursday morning, whichever you decide. Incidentally, I'd also like to know what your plans are for this weekend."

She thought for a moment as if trying to remember her plans before he rolled his eyes and told her to take out the iPad he'd given her last month. Besides downloading the entire iTunes library and the entire New York Public Library, he'd also included a daily workout journal he expected her to fill out along with his own schedule, updated in real time by his assistant. 'You should always know where I am just as I should always know where you are,' he'd said when she'd raised her brows at him.

"You haven't made any entries and I need to ensure that my team can secure anything you're doing beforehand." _Not to mention the fact that I need to know who you're going to be with while I'm so far away._

"My parents are coming down for the weekend. My dad is friends with Jose Rodriguez's father so we're all meeting up for dinner Friday night and then we're taking a day trip out to Bainbridge." She saw the clench of his jaw at the mention of Jose and did her best to smooth his irritation over before it got out of hand. "I would rather have spent the weekend here as per usual but you're going to be away saving the world," she giggled, his anger softening into something more like disappointment. Is that really how she saw him? As philanthropic and not just a money maker?

"I do not like that you're spending time with another man, one who clearly has feelings for you, while I'm away." His words were clipped and concise, bordering on a pout.

"We've been friends for a long time, Mr. Grey and our parents are friends. They're the ones that planned this dinner but if it makes you feel any better, Jose is bringing his newly minted fiancée with him."

"Newly minted?"

"Yup, he just asked her at Christmas." Her eyes lit up with joy for her friend, the spark of light so mesmerizing that Christian found himself staring instead of talking, his anger taking a momentary backseat to his admiration of her beauty.

For a moment that information make him feel a tiny bit better but then he had the vision of three couples sitting around a table and Ana by herself and a pang of sadness had him mentally reorganizing the trip so that he could be home for it. But he'd already shaved two days off and Friday was going to be his last opportunity to meet with the President of Mexico so nothing could be done to accompany her.

"Sawyer will need the name of the restaurant and any place on Bainbridge you're planning on visiting."

"Mr. Grey," she started.

"We're not in scene, Anastasia."

"My apologies. Christian, I can choose a restaurant to make reservations at but as to the rest of the weekend, we're playing it by ear. I've never been out to the island so I don't even know what's there." He would had chuckled at her innocence had it not been a danger to her.

"Ana, were you not made aware of the photo's of you online? Are you unaware of the swarm of people now following you around? Have you not had to change your phone number and hire a service to field calls at the studio?"

"It's not a swarm, its two photographers who just won't go away and Kate has shown me the photos but they're harmless. Me buying new running sneakers, me unlocking the door to my studio, me pulling into the garage here."

"Thank you for making my point for me," he smirked. "You're being pursued. Doing things on the fly isn't going to work anymore. But just in case you still want to argue," he pulled up another page on the tablet filled with numbers and diagrams she didn't immediately understand. "Here is what a picture of you is currently being sold for. Here is where you were a month ago. See the problem? You're worth eighty times more now so photographers are going to get more and more aggressive in their pursuit."

He sat back smugly and watched her eyes widen as she took in the chart, the dollar amounts rising with each day that passed. Her reaction gave him time to take total control of the conversation and ultimately, her weekend.

"I would love to have your family and the Rodriguez's dine at Mile High on Friday. I'll have the chef prepare a special dinner in a private room so that you can all catch up and celebrate The Boy's engagement." He ignored the way her head cocked to the side in admonishment. "I will also have a chartered boat take you to the island and arrange for a tour while you're there. A chef will be onboard to prepare dinner for the voyage back to Seattle. I know you said you and your father like to watch the football games at a bar on Sunday but I'd be more comfortable if you stayed home instead. I can arrange catering and a full beer selection for Mr. Steele of course."

Her mouth dropped open in shock. He'd thought of everything and he'd done it in less than one minute of finding out her plans. Despite not wanting him to have any influence on her life outside of Escala, she had to admit that his orchestration of the weekend sounded pretty damn good.

"Is this your attempt at controlling me outside of the boundaries of our contract?" she joked, touched that he was willing to take such precautions to keep her out of the media.

"No," he laughed. "It's my way of ensuring _your_ safety and _my_ peace of mind." He held up one finger. "But, we _are_ up for contract negotiations in two weeks and I do plan on revisiting a few issues. I've had Andrea put it on the schedule in black. As you can see, I've blocked out the entire night so that I can…" one brow raised as he appraised her from neck to ankle, "_persuade_ you in anything you may fight me on."

Ana held back the laugh because as much as she'd given in on, Christian had caved to almost all of her demands so far. Further negotiations would be interesting, that much she was sure of.

"So you definitely want to continue our arrangement then, Sir?" she purred, blinking those thick lashes his way and watching with obvious interest when he adjusted his pants. Sometimes, she had to wonder who was really in control of these types of relationships.

"Yes. I am nowhere near ready to terminate this," he said, waving two fingers between them. "But we _will_ be talking about your panache for topping from the bottom and we _will_ be talking about a few of your limits." He leaned forward and licked the delicate skin of her neck. "However," he whispered against her lips, "what I have in mind right now requires no talking of any kind. I want you upstairs and in position in five minutes, Ms. Steele. Tonight I will introduce you to the art of Shibari."

It had pleased him immensely when she admitted a few weeks ago that none of her other Doms had exposed her to that particular form of play. He'd been planning exactly what he wanted to do to her and exactly how he'd tie her up, down to the colors of the ropes he'd use. Purple around her legs, black around her torso and red around her arms.

Upstairs she was his puppet, bent to his will, tied to his specifications, twisted to his desires. Christian worked in perfect silence, the only sounds those of the robe as it tied or the occasional gasp when he tightened it around her alabaster flesh. It took him almost two hours of meticulous work but the finished product was a masterpiece that he photographed from every angle, the dramatic colors adding to the undeniable appeal of her perfect skin.

"The most important part of any relationship, ours especially, is trust." He pulled on the chain that held the ropes that had her hog-tied and elevated her so that her mouth lined up with his cock, swinging the rope slightly so that her lips brushed against its engorged head. She moaned with want. "Shhh, I want total quiet right now." He walked behind her and loosened the center knot, pulling her legs open and repeating the movement between the soaking lips of her sex. "Do you trust me, Anastasia?"

"Yes, Sir," she said softly, lost in her own head and the peaceful lull of monotony he'd provided over the last few hours. There was something so therapeutic and relaxing as the recipient of Shibari and while ultimately the act would lead to sex, the act itself was what had brought her to sub-space. It was terribly erotic to be tied with silken ropes, at the total mercy of her Dom but to watch him concentrate like he had, to watch the muscles in his body respond as he moved, to have the sheen of sweat coat his torso when he became excited...it all contributed to the space she found herself in right now.

Relaxed. Powerful. Beautiful. Lustful.

He dragged a finger through her wetness and lifted it to his mouth, sighing at the taste of her. _Like warm honey._ "Do you trust me not to hurt you?"

"Yes, Sir." She trusted him with everything.

He slid beneath her suspended body and suckled her left nipple, the throb to his dick matching up with her moan of pleasure. "Do you trust me to keep you safe?" He moved his mouth to her other nipple and held it there, his breath hot on the soft pink skin while he waited for her answer.

"Yes, Sir."

He rewarded her with a strong pull of his lips. He heard a small sound, noticed a blush creep across her chest and almost came when he saw she had dripped onto the wood floor.

_Fuck I want her so much._ His fingers tugged on the pebbled flesh of her breasts as he rose in front of her. He'd never done Shibari on a woman who wasn't blindfolded. There was something so intense about it. So basic and primal and personal that to allow someone to watch him work like that for an extended period of time was out of the question. Yet in front of him were the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen. Again he ghosted his dick across her lips, his thumb following in it's wake to spread the precum that coated her.

"Do you trust me with your well-being, Anastasia?"

"Yes, Sir." Her lashes fluttered when he slid inside her mouth on a groan, his hands holding her face in place so as to lessen her discomfort. More, he wanted _so much more_ than just this. He wanted to know her inside and out. To dig deep into her soul and find himself at her center. He wanted to carry her secrets and lessen her burden. To own her, to posses her, to consume her. He _wanted._

And it terrified him.

"Do you trust me to care for you?" He withdrew and fisted himself.

"Sir," she panted, her tongue flicking out to taste him. "Yes, please..."

_God I want you,_ he thought as she sucked him back in.

His fingers weaved into her hair and pulled her forward. "You trust me with your safety," _thrust,_ "your pleasure," _thrust,_ "your pain," _thrust,_ "your care." He pushed in as far as he could go, felt her throat close around his shaft, watched her face turn red with effort and her eyes water and grunted, "I want you to trust me with your secrets too, Anastasia." He slid out and went behind her to give her the illusion of privacy.

She gasped, spit dripping to the floor while her mind raced. The vacancy he'd left had her wanting more of his sweet frustration. Sweet and tender, harsh and aggressive. She didn't care how he gave of himself so long as it was given to her.

His mental manipulation, in this moment, was unfair and he knew it. But Welch had dug up next to nothing despite the threat to his job, an enormous amount of money and around the clock man hours. He'd promised more covert digging but Christian knew that any real information was going to have to come from Ana herself at this point because whatever had happened to her had been so well hidden that even _his_ resources had come up empty and that had never happened before.

He'd purposefully chosen Shibari for the deep emotions it usually pulls out of submissives, deadest on getting her to talk but she said not a word. Like a fine instrument he played her body, bringing her to the edge only to gently guide her back down until she shook and writhed, the pleading moans falling from her lips too sexy to deny. He gave her what she wanted and filled her with the very essence of him, the white liquid running down her legs in rivulets while he slowly untied her.

Afterwards, once he'd bathed and massaged her with oils and lotions that helped to relax her sore muscles he'd lain with her between sheets of the finest linen while the moon lit up her bed. Her skin still held some of the indentations of the rope and while he dragged his fingers over those erotic lines, she fell asleep, the soothing effect his touch had on her evident in the way she melted into him.

_Get up and get out of this bed,_ he demanded of himself, his limbs finding rest amongst the satin skin of hers. Instead he gripped her hip and drew her closer, his nose inhaling that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder, the tiny shiver that ran through her enough to elicit a smile from him. So soft and sweet and small and tender. She was femininity in its purest form, her call to him refined over millions of years of evolution.

_How many men had lost everything over a woman? How many dictatorships, presidencies, positions of power had been brought to ash over the call of a woman just like this? How many men had crumbled to nothing because they couldn't resist?_

With a heavy sigh he rolled to his back, his arms crossing over his stomach. _I won't be one of those men._ _It's her vulnerability, the idea of her suffering that has me so fucked up,_ he reasoned. Never before had he been so singularly obsessed with anyone or anything in his entire life and despite Flynn warning him, again, that he needed to call off the dogs when it came to digging into her past, he couldn't help himself. He had to know.

Every other woman he'd ever been with had been eager to share anything he'd asked about. All of them, without exception were under the belief that sharing their lives with him meant that he'd share his life with them.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

It wasn't that he didn't care what they had experienced or didn't care what they had to say, it was just that he'd never been open to a give and take relationship where emotions were exchanged. But despite his efforts to maintain his hard lines, he found himself not only interested in what Ana had been through but obsessed with it.

He smiled when she gave a tiny little snore and flipped to her stomach, the curve of her ass so seductive he had to ball his fists to keep from touching her again. Instead he flung his legs to the side and slid out of the coziness of her bed and into the chilly night. The floor was warm beneath his feet, the radiant heat ensuring that even in the frigid January weather, his little palace in the sky was of the highest comfort.

Clad in black silk pajama pants and a white t-shirt he rested his hip against the edge of the desk and stared at the manila envelope Welch had provided to him on Monday morning. His long fingers tapped against the glass of scotch, his eyes narrowing while he debated going through it all again.

Truth be told, there wasn't much there but it was what _wasn't_ there that gave him and his head of security the most pause. All of Anastasia's medical records before the age of 16 had been either deleted or blacked out and those had all been done on the orders of a two star Major General of the Marine Corp under the name of William Francis. For a time Welch had focused on him, happy to finally have a lead only to learn that he was still in the military and that he was the good friend of three star Major General Raymond Steele, retired two years ago after 30 years of service.

"I looked at Ray Steele as much as I could but the guys squeaky clean. More than clean, he's a regular Rambo and apparently the consummate family guy as well. He adopted Anastasia when she was just seven months old after her own father died. His then wife, Carla Lambert-Steele, left him for Stephen Morton when Ana was seven and a half. She and Morton moved across the country to Georgia but despite the miles, Ray visited every three weeks until Carla suddenly filed for an annulment from Morton and left him, moving herself back into Ray's house with her now eight, almost nine year old daughter in tow."

"I know all of this, Welch," Christian snapped at him, tossing the stack of Excel sheets he'd been studying onto his desk. "Give me something new before I lose my shit."

The older man had taken a deep breath and sat back. "Well, it could be nothing or it could be everything but nobody's heard from Stephen Morton since the day he signed the annulment papers." The breath in Christian's lungs froze, the implications smacking him in the face. "No credit card usage, no cash withdrawn from his bank, no medical record updates. Nothing." He held up a hand, "Vanished into thin air."

For a few minutes Grey said nothing, just stared at the documents on his desk before moving to the window. He felt hot and energized and sobered all at the same time. "You've investigated his life?"

"I have but only as much as I've been able to in a few short days. Morton wasn't on our radar until now." He paused but Grey just shoved his hands in his pockets and waited, his back to Welch. "On paper he seems like an average guy. Made his living as an independent electrician. Born in Vancouver and moved to Georgia after meeting Carla since his mother was there at the time. It conveniently put a lot of miles between Carla and Ray. Nothing else that stood out as remarkable except for two arrests for minor drug charges in his early twenties and a number of speeding tickets that were never resolved."

"And your professional opinion?" Christian didn't turn, the emotion on his face too telling. His throat closed up, the cotton dryness of his mouth making him want to gag.

Welch swallowed hard. To see Grey so twisted up over a woman and so clearly out of his element led him to believe that this woman, this Anastasia Rose Steele whose secrets he'd been tasked with uncovering, had turned the boss's carefully constructed world on its head. Something horrific had to have happened to her to have the boss so unglued.

"Professionally speaking, it's highly unusual for someone to disappear like that and fifteen years later not be heard from. The fact that Raymond Steele took his wife and child back with him so suddenly coupled with Morton's disappearance and the military blackout on Ms. Steele's records leads me to believe that this is an issue we should leave alone for now."

Christian bristled, his hands fisting in his pockets. _Leave alone?_ Was this guy serious?

Welch felt the pricks of danger grasping at his conscious. "Sir, we're talking two and three star Generals here. This isn't something to take lightly"

"Do I look like I'm taking this lightly?" Christian interrupted, turning around in a fury.

"No, Sir you do not."

"I want to know what happened to make this Carla Adams woman leave her husband, who then disappears the day their annulment is finalized, only to never be heard from again."

"I understand that, Sir but what I'm saying is that this...whatever it is, is not something we should be poking at. _If_, and I'm stressing the word if here, if something happened to Ms. Steele at the hands of Stephen Morton and her father took care of it, our digging could unleash some pretty ugly truths that should stay buried. These military types close ranks when one of their own is in trouble. Trying to locate missing files leaves an electronic trail that someone will eventually notice."

Grey heard the urgency in Welch's voice and understood the implications being tossed at him but he was a man who was used to getting his way in everything. "Is there someone we can use that knows their way around this kind of thing? Someone who won't raise any flags but can hunt down a missing man or at the very least find out why he's missing? An insider?"

"Mr. Grey, I'm urging you to rethink this." It was dangerous to suggest anything of the sort but Rick Welch knew exactly what could happen if they kept poking the hornets nest. If this shit came back to him or to GEH, his job would be the least of his worries.

"I leave for Mexico City on Monday. I'll give you a decision by then as to what I want done."

That had been three days ago but he was no closer to changing his mind. He wanted to know if this man, this pathetic excuse for a man was what made the soft, sweet woman in the bed upstairs quake with fear. And he wanted to make sure if it was, that he was truly gone forever. But he had to concede that Welch was right. This could open doors that should remain shut forever.

Draining his scotch he pushed the envelope to the side and sat down, working for three hours on a new merger in an effort to shut off his ever running brain. When the words began to run together and he found his lids drooping he stood, his body finally exhausted enough to sleep. At the foot of the stairs he stood perfectly still, internally debating where to sleep. What he _should_ do is continue down the hall to his bedroom to start fighting back against this overwhelming desire to be with Ana every second of the day.

He'd clearly let things get too blurry between them, the point hammered home when two of his uncles told him what a lovely woman his girlfriend was as they left the New Years party at his parents house. He hadn't thought too much about it until he'd carried her sleeping body from the playroom to his own room. His knee had lifted to the mattress so that he could lay her on it before he realized that he'd brought her to his bed and not hers, the immediate and intense rush of panic forcing him from his own bedroom and into hers. She'd been none the wiser but he'd lain awake for hours thinking back on all of the concessions he'd made and reminding himself that this girl was his submissive, not his lover.

It had been easy to convince himself while she slept that the rules and boundaries he'd put in place all those years ago should be reinforced now. But then she'd woken him up with a smile and freshly made blueberry muffins and instead of showing her coldness like he'd planned, he found himself watching reruns of Dr. Who in the library with her feet in his lap watching her sip her tea in his oversized Harvard sweatshirt.

It wasn't until hours later when she'd gone home and he'd hung up with the Audi dealer that he took a long shower and chastised himself for being so lax with her. Again he made the decision to pull back and fall back into the role of Dom only. And for three days he'd done just that, his nightly conversations with Ana short and formal, his morning jerk off session confined to thoughts of her in the playroom.

Around and around his brain went but damn it to hell his feet had a mind of their own and made their way up the stairs. He'd found his way to her bed anyway, found his face pressed into the curve of her neck, found his arm around the flare of her hip and finally found the peace he'd been struggling with all week long.

* * *

"Do you always have the same breakfast?" Ana asked him over their omelets and coffee the next morning before work.

He nodded and sipped from the porcelain mug. "Yes. Except when my weekend guest makes something different though even then I usually request this." He motioned to the plate in front of him but Ana didn't notice. Instead she swallowed hard and blinked back the burn of tears that pricked her lids.

_His weekend guest?_ For a beat she held the wheat toast to her mouth and watched him eat his eggs while he read the papers so carefully laid out for him by Gail. _That's what you are, Ana. Or have you forgotten? Foolish girl, get a grip and remember what this arrangement is._

"I can make you omelets if you want. You've never asked me to make you anything specific," she murmured, lost in thought at the idea of another woman cooking for him. Had he lain another woman on this very counter too? The very same one he'd spread her on two weeks ago?

"Well _you_ know how to cook!" he laughed good naturedly. "I like seeing what you come up with. I have found that with you, I'm in good hands. Letting you express your creativity has always worked to my advantage whether that be through music or cooking or whatever you come up with."

"So you've had submissives that couldn't cook?" _Stop yourself, Anastasia..._

"Yes. A few of them. One was so bad I wound up getting takeout for every meal. She lasted about six weeks though since cooking wasn't the only thing she wasn't skilled at."

Oblivious. He was totally oblivious to the way she winced as she imagined just what this other woman was so bad at. Ana's stomach twisted, the coffee suddenly bitter on her tongue. Of course he'd had other women here. In the very room she'd been in last night and in the very same bed they'd shared.

"Mr. Grey, did you ever share a bed with your subs?" She shifted and drew a jean clad leg underneath her. "I mean, I know you never spent the night but did you, you know, put them to bed?"

With a flick he closed the New York Times and pushed it away. "No. There are many things you and I do that deviate from my norm."

"And you're ok with that?" she gambled, her breath freezing in her lungs when he didn't answer right away.

"I am," he answered slowly. "I'm fine with some of it but there are other things that I'm not sure about." He stood, held his hand out and grabbed his phone while Ana did her best to slow the beating of her heart. "You disarm me and intrigue me in a way nobody ever has and while I find a large part of that thrilling, I also find that it brings with it a certain level of unrest I'm not comfortable with."

Without breaking his stride he grabbed the small bag on the couch in the great room and pulled her into the elevator that Taylor was holding open for them. "Why do you bring so little with you when you come here?"

Ana shrugged, touched by his candidness and admission that she did something to him. "I only pack what I need."

"You have a room here so that you can leave things here and not have to carry this back and forth."

"The room is yours. I'm here as a guest." Keeping her in that bedroom was the most effective way of showing her that as much as they shared, as many times as they'd been intimate, as connected they were, she was his submissive and was therefore, no more than a guest.

His eyes narrowed, his frustration starting to grow. "Bring things to leave here when you come back on Friday."

"There are things here already, Caroline Acton made sure of that and Gail covered the rest."

"Yes," he gritted out, "but I want you to leave _personal_ items here. The clothes Caroline picked out and the toiletries that Gail chose aren't personal. You should have your own space here, Anastasia."

Ana opened her mouth to tell him she would but stopped short when the car in her parking spot wasn't hers. Where she had parked her cute, safe, perfect-for-her Saab was a brand new, shiny, sleek, sexy, pure white Audi Spyder. Immediately she remembered telling him that a previous Dom had given her the Saab but instead of insolent rage she just let her jaw hang slack and sputtered.

"What is this? Where is my car?"

"This is a 2012 Audi Spyder. I'm trusting that you can drive something like this but if not, the dealership offers lessons. I'm sure we could arrange for a private one." He made no mention of the Saab. Why bother? It had been given to her by another man and was therefore gone. For good if he could help it.

"This is my car? You're giving me a car?" She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. "I have a car. A good, working, lovable car."

"Well now you have a good, working, lovable, expensive and fast as hell car."

"No," she said flatly, turning towards him with what could only be described of as fire in her eyes. "My car was a gift to me and is not yours to get rid of. I want it back and I want it now."

His intake of breath and the flash of rejection in his eyes almost had her softening her stance but then he leaned forward and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, leading her to the driver side door of the gleaming white sports car.

_"Get. The. Fuck. In. The. Car."_

"Where is my Saab, Mr. Grey?" she asked as calmly as she could which was quite a feat considering he was nearly shaking with rage. The fingers on her neck tensed slightly and then fell away only to grip the hair on his head as he took two steps backwards.

_A different tactic...I need a different tactic here._ His chest filled with the wrath he usually reserved for business foes who wronged him but instead of lashing out as per normal, he leaned against his own car, pinching the bridge of his nose and then counted to twenty.

"Ana, I bought this car for you because it's safe and I thought you'd like it not to mention the fact that you'll look insanely hot driving this around."

"Christian you bought this for me because you knew that what I was driving had been given to me by Dom...my last Dom." Her face flushed but he hadn't noticed the slip. Had Dominick's name been anything else he'd surely have figured it out by this conversation.

"I won't pretend that the fact that you are driving in a car given to you by another man doesn't bother me. It does. Greatly. But I give all of my submissives a car at three months and we're close enough that I wanted to give this to you now, before I left." It wasn't a complete lie...

Well that changed things. Marginally.

"You give them all cars?" she asked skeptically.

He had her. He knew it by the way her teeth bit into that sinful bottom lip. Careful to omit the type of car he'd buy them or the fact that they were always red, he simply nodded.

"Oh." Her shoulders relaxed, the strap of her purse falling before she reached up and fixed it, her hair flipping to one side while he watched transfixed. "It's still quite a gift, Sir. And I do want to know where my Saab is."

_Fucking hell!_ She wasn't going to let this go.

"It's in storage in a garage in Kirkland. I can have Taylor get you a key so that you can visit it whenever you'd like." He smirked but inside he felt an irrational burst of hurt. Why was she so attached to something another man gave her?

"And it's still mine? You didn't do some voodoo government magic and get it wiped off of the DMV database?"

He laughed and shook his head, those copper locks falling perfectly over his brows. Her fingers itched to brush them back into place but he tossed his head back and smiled at her.

"No voodoo government magic. You still own the car." His leg swung out and took a step towards her just as she took a step towards him. "But this car is also yours. Registered in your name, insured in your name." Her hand finally came up and ran through his hair. His breath caught.

"It's a very nice car." She'd do whatever it took to wipe that flash of rejection she'd seen earlier away.

"Yes. Nice."

"I do like the color too." He lifted his thumb to her mouth and dragged it across the seam of her lips. "Heated seats?" He nodded, his gaze set firmly on the blues of her eyes. "Auto-start?" Another nod but this time he moved closer, his breath washing over her face. "Alarm system?"

"Ana," he said softly with the tiniest hint of amusement, "it's a $180k car. It has everything." Taking advantage of her little gasp he closed the distance and kissed her, his tongue lavishing its attention on that delectable bottom lip that he couldn't seem to get enough of.

"Actually," he corrected, pulling back to open the door for her. "It's missing one thing. You. In it. Get that perfectly round, unbelievably sexy ass in that seat now."

She giggled and did just that, the butter-like feel of expensive leather instantly making her regretful over ever having rejected such a gift. For a few seconds he watched her and then shut the door, knocking on the window until she figured out how to get it to go down.

"This car is not something to be careless with. It's extremely powerful and gives quite a kick so be very cautious until you're used to it." He took a deep breath and leaned in the open window, gripping the hair on her nape so that she was forced to look at him. "I'll see you Friday, Ms. Steele. We'll be...discussing your little tantrum then."

Her belly clenched. "Looking forward to it, Mr. Grey," she purred, starting up her new ride.

He grinned, sinister and sexy all rolled into one. "As am I, Anastasia."


	15. Chapter 15

The day dragged on. And on...and on. No matter how many times the executives at GEH explained the fact that they were, under no circumstance, going to pay the Mexican Government the astounding export tariff they were demanding, the battle still raged inside the cramped and outdated boardroom. The air conditioning wasn't sufficient to cool down the 19 individuals gathered around the cheap table nor were the imitation leather seats that held in body heat like a blanket.

Underneath his eight thousand dollar suit Christian felt the roll of sweat as it travelled from his collar to his belt, leaving wet patches on his once crisp white shirt. He'd long ago ditched the suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves but by the end of the day, he was ready to host the next meeting in the pool. He was so used to the stares he elicited from women and men alike over his good looks that he'd not even noticed how the women remained mostly silent, staring at each curve of muscle as his shirt grew wetter.

He _had_ noticed the Inovations Alegres CFO though. He'd have had to have been blind to have missed her. Young, attractive, breasts pushed up artfully in a sheath dress that was almost too small to be considered modest. Gisele Gomez, she'd said after she'd walked right over to him, hand extended and had introduced herself in a thick accent highlighted by her husky voice. She'd sat directly across from him and had, for the most part, remained professional but now that the heat had made his white shirt translucent, now that she could see the brown outline of his nipple and the small patch of hair over his sternum she'd begun to fantasize about just how wet they could make each other later in his hotel room.

With a toss of her hair she pulled the dress's top down a bit more, pursed out her lips and then leaned forward, intent on catching his eye when she began to read off the current years profit and loss statement.

_Does she think I don't understand a P&L? Why is she wasting my time? Is she serious with that dress? What was her name again? _She mistook his confusion for interest, her confidence spiking when he reached below the table to rest his hand on his thigh. When she paused to smile at him it all made sense. Her attire, the way she was monopolizing the meeting even though her shit was redundant and unnecessary, the way she dragged her red nails over her collarbone over and over again. _Jesus._ _Tuesday. It's only Tuesday and I want to jump out of this window already._

He'd arrived fresh faced on Monday afternoon after a weekend dedicated solely to sex, eating, sex, movies and more sex. Despite the enormous pile of work on his desk and the never ending ding of his email account, he'd put work on total hold, the need to overdose on his sweet little submissive the only thing on his two day to-do list.

He'd taken her as hard as he could on Friday and had carried out as rough a punishment as he thought appropriate but truth be told, it wasn't what he would have normally done. Knowing she had been violated and not knowing exactly how had left him in a bit of a quandary that he'd never come up against before.

He'd seen her terror, had smelled her fear that night she'd cried in his arms and nothing, no amount of punishment or orgasm denial was worth seeing that again. So he'd used the thin reed cane on the back of her thighs and then the thicker one on her ass before stringing her up by her wrists to the ceiling and pounding into her from behind so that he hit those tender marks on her skin. But even that hadn't been carried out with the usual harshness he usually saved for punishment sessions. He just couldn't risk hurting her no matter how many times she told him she could handle it.

By Sunday she'd cum so many times she'd begged him to not get her off anymore but he'd done it one more time anyway, her legs tied around the Sybian while he held her and pinched nipples sore from overuse. When she'd stopped shaking he'd fucked her mouth and emptied himself into her throat, the knowledge that even though he was leaving, a part of him would remain with her marginally satisfying.

Replaying those scenes was the only reason he'd been able to remain relatively calm for the duration of this first meeting even if it did mean he had to discreetly adjust himself on occasion. The Grey Enterprise team, Christian included, was anxious to get to the factories to begin the long process of culling the staff and getting their own people in place. There were safety inspections that needed to be done, equipment upgrades that were long overdue, a line two miles long of potential new employees and a shit-ton of governmental beurocratic bullshit that was sure to keep them all here far longer than should be necessary.

"Gentlemen," he looked pointedly at the three women in the room, two of them from GEH, "Ladies. This is all fine and well. My time isn't valuable and obviously yours isn't either."

"Mr. Grey, I can assure you" the government representative began.

"I wasn't finished," Christian said calmly yet with more authority than anyone could override. "I don't need the damn P&L read to me as if we were in high school economics class nor do I need you to pepper me with inane compliments that have no place in the boardroom. My team and I have put in _thousands_ of man hours, close to a _million_ dollars and have called in more favors than ever before so that we could help _your_ company flourish again." With each few words his voiced raised in frustration.

"And yet, here we are, months later and you and your team of lackeys still can't seem to figure out which end is your ass. Well I'm here to tell you that if you don't figure this shit out by Friday, then we're walking. And by walking I mean we will bury your ass in legal bull shit until this company is six feet underground. Tomorrow we will finalize the intellectual property rights. I would suggest you be prepared or the first thing I will do when I take over is fire each one of you personally. Ms. Gomez, if you ever read a financial statement to me again, you will be the first to go."

With that he walked out of the cramped board room and into the relative comfort of the town car that had been hired to chauffer him around for the week. Ros slammed the door behind her and reached for the ever present bottle of tequila, just about the only thing the Inovations Alegres team had gotten right so far.

"It's not gonna happen, Christian. They're getting pushed by the local _and_ national government to not give in on the sale price or the contingencies and they're getting pushback from the locals who are afraid of a gringo taking ownership of their factories. Not to mention the discrepancy in their DCF valuation or the fact that suddenly their asset sheet is twice as long." She took a healthy shot and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's a total cluster fuck."

"Then they're all idiots. This _gringo_ happens to want to better their lives by making their work place safer and more affluent which can only improve the area around here. Do their workers not know that they're three months away from going out of business entirely? They're worried about their jobs but without us they won't have a job to worry about. Didn't the advance team explain our retention rate?"

"They did," she nodded. "But besides a general distrust of big business, they're also being spoon fed lies by their bosses. And no, judging by the people they've got running this place, I'd bet my firstborn they have no idea things are so bad." For a moment she furrowed her brow in thought, working out a way to shave a few days off of this trip. Grey wasn't the only one with a hot little number waiting back home. "Let's go out tonight, regroup and have a team meeting. Can't hurt to get a feel for the locals either, maybe drop a few hints at the current state of their employer. Might even help to have your face seen in a cantina."

He almost laughed at her. Casual wasn't his style. Mingling wasn't his strong suit and hanging with his team had never been high on his list.

"No. We got a feel for the locals when we sent the test team down here a year ago. They all know my face. They've seen the money I've poured into their economy just by coming down here so damn often." Besides, all he wanted was room service, a cold beer and his nightly phone call with Anastasia, all of which would be delayed if he went anywhere but the hotel.

"Fine, I'll send Beckett and Woodward out to start spreading some well placed rumors. By Friday we'll have picketers demanding the sale." Ros tossed back another shot and watched the boss give half a smile. This was why he would never consider firing her. Because despite being a woman and being told her place over and over by men in business, Rosalyn Bailey knew exactly how to get shit done even if it meant getting her hands a little dirty.

Back in his room he shrugged out of his suit and called for Taylor to give him his nightly briefing before taking a hot shower and ordering dinner.

"Sir." Taylor nodded once and then shook his head when Christian offered him a beer from the kitchen. Despite the heat and the constant state of annoyance this place seemed to offer, the boss still seemed pretty…happy. _I'm sure it has everything to do with a petite brunette back in Seattle,_ Taylor thought wryly, his heart hurting a bit when he thought of home and subsequently his wife.

"Anything? Or just the typical daily bull shit?"

"Pretty typical, Sir. There was a small demonstration outside of the distillery in Ireland and another at the one in Scotland but our team was able to pull the leaders in for a meeting. Bethany Irons, your HR director for Europe will fill you in on the details but basically the workers wanted more vacation time."

Christian rolled his eyes. "Have Andrea schedule a call for tomorrow morning. And for fucks sake, do not have her fly me out there. I'm not taking any more trips unless absolutely necessary." _Unless Ms. Steele wants to come as well._

"It's all been scheduled, Sir. There was also an issue with a supply truck in Sudan. Locals from a village not on our route overwhelmed the truck on its way through an isolated section of road and forced it to stop." He paused for a moment, "Our guys were armed well enough to have dealt with the issue by force but chose not to. Instead the villagers were given the goods off of the truck including the water purification tablets and the medical supplies."

"OK," Christian said quietly, hands on his hips as he stood to think. "Sounds like we have two problems then. Three really."

"Right. How do you want to handle it?"

"We'll need to get another truck out immediately to deliver to the original village and we'll also need to add another truck in order to feed this village we overlooked as well. Are there other places we're bypassing in order to get to our end destination?"

"I'm not sure, I'll have to get back to you on that. The third problem?"

"We need better guards. I get that these people were hungry and I'm glad we could help but if they had been armed guerillas, we'd be in shits creek. I'm not funding or feeding any of the rebels so get Peter Wilkins to hire as many guys as he needs and tell him to put a supply caravan together." He stood and ran a hand through his hair. "And let's ensure we're meeting the needs of the entire route, not just a few villages here and there. I don't care about the cost."

Taylor was not the least bit surprised. Say what you want about the boss, but he was one generous son of a bitch. "Yes, Sir. I'll get on it right away. Are you in for the night?"

"Nothing more on Ms. Steele?"

Taylor hid the clench of his jaw and shook his head. "Just what you were already told this afternoon. She's been with her friends since this morning and had looked at a handful of local performance houses throughout the day. As far as Sawyer knows, she's still scheduled to go to the Boys and Girls Club tonight as usual."

"And the men that are with her? You've made arrangements for their accommodation?"

"Yes, Sir. Sawyer informed them a few hours ago. They were most appreciative if not a bit surprised and confused."

Confused. Why they'd be confused was beyond him. When Ana mentioned that her friends were coming to help her book a place, she'd failed to mention that they were all men and also had failed to mention that they'd be staying at her apartment. Which was firmly in the hell no category as far as Christian was concerned.

"Paul Clayton isn't with them?"

_Fuck me. Here we go again. This job was so much easier when he didn't give a shit. Now I'm a damned babysitter._ "No, he's still in New York. Working and settling in." _Kill me now._

Christian felt the anxiety lift from his chest. Good. _That fuckers too good looking and too smart to be allowed around her anyway._ The fact that he knew her intimately was just the nail in his coffin.

"That'll be all, Taylor. I'll see you at six for a workout."

* * *

"I don't understand. Is he your boyfriend? Or is this a business deal?" Dylan's brows knit together in confusion at the bar at the Fairmont. "I mean, this is quite the fucking digs for a bunch of out of work recent college graduates. I was fine slumming it on the couch but hell, I'll take this any day. I'm just not sure how to categorize the guy."

"Why do you have to categorize him at all? You know we're together, you've seen the pictures. Just let it go and enjoy your fully comped room, dinner and bar tab." _In other words, shut the hell up and leave me alone._

"Oh, we'll enjoy it all right. Don't worry about that. I'm just a little disappointed that I won't be reconnecting with Kate tonight," Chase joked.

"That was two years ago, dude. Now _that_, you seriously need to let go." Josh rolled his eyes and shelled another peanut, waving over the waitress for another round.

"Can't. That was the finest piece of ass I've ever had. And have I failed to mention the fact that she had a girlfriend come and join us a few times?"

"No! You never fail to mention that. We get it," Dylan groaned. "We _all_ get it. But I've got news for you in case you haven't noticed. Kate Kavanagh gets around. She probably doesn't even remember you. She went down on me our freshman year and when she saw me three weeks later she had no idea who I was. You, my friend, are just another penis to her."

Ana giggled and shrugged when Chase looked her way. It wasn't anything Kate herself wouldn't say if she were here. "Dylan's right. Kate hasn't spent more than a week with one person in her entire life. I can't even count how many lovers she's had and she's not shy about it either." In fact, she was borderline proud of it.

"But it was _me_! And we had a _threesome_! You really don't think she remembers me?"

"Oh I'm sure she remembers you. I just don't know if she remembers _doing_ you. And threesomes are pretty standard for her. Less emotional involvement."

"Less emotional involvement," Chase repeated. "I guess that makes sense. I mean, I didn't even know the other chicks name and I fucked her twice."

Ana patted his shoulder to soften the blow and then ordered another vodka tonic while they waited for their table. She'd forgotten about Kate and Chase's tryst but that wasn't unusual. Kate had been with so many people it was easier to recite who she _hadn't_ slept with than it was to list who she had. Maybe that was why she was so nonplussed by Ana's sexual lifestyle. I mean, how judgmental could she be when she was literally screwing her way through Washington State?

"But anyway, back to you, Steele. This Grey guy that you're with, is he 'The One' as they say?" Lauren twirled her straw around her glass and waited. The last thing she wanted to hear about was the man she secretly loved sleeping with two women.

"When have you _ever_ heard me talk about a guy like that? I may love to read but that doesn't mean I believe the fairytales."

"Fair enough but you also haven't really dated since Paul so the natural assumption is that this guy is different. Hence why I'm asking if he's The One."

"I don't believe in 'The One'," Ana said, her fingers mimicking quotations. "And I doubt a man like him does either. But to be perfectly blunt, my relationship with Christian is not up for discussion. Now order your dinner because I'm already going to be late for my volunteering tonight."

* * *

Once home she took a quick shower and then settled on the couch with Kate and a bottle of wine. Like a good friend she listened as her friend went on about a guy she met last week who wined, dined and then 69'd her. The story was the same as a hundred before it but this time, there was a sense of melancholy attached to it that caught Ana's attention.

"...so after he refused to wear a condom I got dressed and walked to the door. He didn't think I was serious about leaving but hell if I'm going to start a fungus farm in my pussy. I mean, who doesn't practice safe sex these days? Even the dirtiest of the guys I've been with wrap it up!"

"Do you remember my friend Chase Pulat?"

"Chase Pulat..." Kate said slowly trying to remember him. "The music dude?" Ana nodded and then smiled when Kate's face lit up with recognition. "Oh yeah! Nice guy as far as I remember. Kinda cocky too, right?"

"A little. Do you remember sleeping with him?"

"Chase? I slept with Chase?"

"And one of your girlfriends."

Kate laughed and shook her head. "No but that's not unusual for me. I don't remember a lot of the people I've been with." She bit her nail and then pointed in the air. "Yes, I remember now. I asked Jasmine to join us because he was talking about dating and nothing says I don't want to be exclusive like bringing in a third party. He was pretty good too which is why I didn't just end it though he came in like, two minutes when he was with both of us the first time. I think I asked her to come back the next day too just to hammer home the point." She grinned and winked. "He was much better the second time."

"Not that I'm judging, because you know I'm not. But how many people do you think you've been with?"

For a long moment Kate twirled her blond hair between two fingers, her lips pursed as she thought. "I used to count but after 140 I stopped. That was two years ago." She shrugged and bit her fingernails again. "Probably close to 400 or so. God," she made a face and reached for the wine, "imagine what that number will be by the time I die."

"Do you think you'll ever settle down with one person, Kate?"

"No," was the definitive answer, complete with a snort and grossed out shake of the head. "For one, I like the excitement of meeting someone new and seeing how far I can take it. Two, who in the _world_ would want me as a serious girlfriend after all the shit I've done?"

"If you were a man you wouldn't be asking that question," Ana said indignantly with the point of a finger.

Kate slowly nodded and sipped her wine. "True. Which is of course bull shit but it's also a reality. I mean," she started, crossing her legs and facing her friend, "chances are if I met someone and they could get past the fact that I was promiscuous, they'd also have to be comfortable knowing I've probably slept with some of their friends at some point."

"But don't you want that? Monogamy? You must value it if you won't hook up with someone in a relationship."

"I do value it! If I met someone who could keep up with me sexually and could overlook my past, I'd consider it I guess. But marriage and kids? _Hellstotheno,_ sister. That shit is not for me. Leave that to Ethan. Did I tell you he and Trina are pregnant again? Third kid in as many years. _Whattothefuck_ is that about?"

"So no kids for you either?" And even though Ana didn't want them, had long since come to the conclusion and then the acceptance that birthing her own child would never happen, she still resented when women were so flippant about something so incredibly awesome.

"As of now, I can't even imagine it. Why?" Kate peered at her friend, the glass twirling in her hand while she tried to work out just where this conversation was coming from. "Are you, like…ready for a real relationship or something?"

"Real?" Ana laughed. Whatever this thing with Christian Grey was, it was more real than anything she'd ever known before.

"You know what I mean," Kate rebutted rolling her eyes. "I thought maybe with Dominick that you'd go that route but then you dropped him like a bad habit. But this one, this Grey dude? You are all sorts of tripped up over him. I'm wondering if it's the sex or something else because it sure as hell isn't the money." She took a sip and choked a bit. "Though I wouldn't have minded half as much as you did if he bought me a car like that. You need to learn how to let him spend money on you. He earned enough in two minutes to pay for that car."

Ana took a deep breath and checked her phone again. 10pm. He usually called around now but since arriving in Mexico he'd been over scheduled so she wasn't sure when he'd call tonight. Her head rested on the back of the couch, eyes closed as she thought of a thousand different things to say to avoid this entire conversation but this was Kate. If anyone in her life could help her sort it out, it was her and damn did Anastasia Steele need sorting right now.

"I like him. A lot. And it frankly scares the shit out of me because even when I was with Dominick for a year I didn't feel this way. I mean, I loved him like I love you, thought he was one of the best human beings I'd ever had the privilege to meet and the sex was good but rarely did I find myself daydreaming about him. Or counting the hours until I was going to see him again."

Kate just sat back and smiled, so incredibly happy to see her best friend, emotionally unavailable for so many years, coming back to life. She'd noticed it after the first weekend she'd spent at Christian's, had seen the way Ana's eyes lit up when her phone would ring or when her Google alert went off with a new story about the illustrious Mr. Grey. For years Kate had tried to figure out a way to have her open up to a man, not an easy feat when you have a history like Ana's but she'd tried in her bull-in-a-china-shop way and had had moderate success here and there.

But this woman sitting across from her, face fresh from a shower, hair drying in ringlets down her back, was finally smiling. _Freely._ She tempered her own joy with a hearty sip of merlot and did her best to play it cool.

"That sounds an awful lot like love," she said, immediately cringing when she saw Ana's body go rigid. _Way to play it cool, Kavanagh._

"Um, no. Not love."

"Fine, _like_. It sounds an awful lot like you _like_ him. A lot. A whole lot. Lots and lots and lots of liking him. And let me tell you, after seeing pictures of your outings, especially the one taken of you leaving his parents after the New Year's party, it appears to me as if this is not a one way feel. Shit, he was practically carrying you to the car and he was smiling like he knew what was about to go down back at home." She smirked and rolled her eyes, "Bet he rang your New Year in good and hard."

At that Ana let out a laugh and then checked her phone again. "He's still an enigma to me. He's this all powerful, all consuming, all authoritative man in the real world and in every aspect of his life as far as I can see but when it comes to me, he compromises often. Which at first I didn't think too much about but as I've gotten to see him with his family and as I've learned more about his business, I now understand that him compromising is a huge deal."

She paused, bit her lip and rubbed her temple. "I signed an NDA, Kate. I'm limited as to what I can discuss with you but there is so much I want to throw out there to get your take on."

"You know I won't say anything, Ana. Just tell me what's on your mind."

She shook her head as if thinking about it. "I can't. He knows you know what we do because I told him you knew about my lifestyle and he knows that you're my best friend. But as to the specifics between him and me, I can't."

"So speak in generalities." _Just speak,_ Kate thought. It wasn't like her to pry and truth be told she hated making Ana do anything but it was obvious that the girl needed to vent and who better than with her best friend who knew all of the dark secrets in her life anyway. Someone had to make the woman see that emotions were a good thing and not something to run from.

"Generally speaking," Ana blew out, "I would be crushed if he were to end it with me. Crushed. He makes me laugh even when he's not trying to be funny. He makes me feel safer than anyone ever has except for Ray. He makes me feel important. Like what I say matters and what I do has value to it." The words came fast, her excitement over being able to share overwhelming. "And when he touches me, it's with reverence. And he's generous. With everyone. But you know what he does that makes me like him so much?" Kate waited, eyes wide. "He lets me _see_ him. The real him you know? The one in pajama pants and a five o'clock shadow who likes to watch Dr. Who reruns while drinking coffee."

"Do you feel like he's going to end it with you?"

"No. I know he wants to continue."

"OK, color me confused but why start with that then? Why was that the first thing you said?"

"Because," Ana started, her face heating up at the intense scrutiny she was under. "If he knew I was feeling these things, he'd end it. It's in the contract, clear as day, spelled out in no uncertain terms."

Kate inwardly cringed but kept up a bland face. "I saw the pictures, Ana. Anyone can see the way he looks at you or the way he's always shielding you when you go out. It's obvious. You all started out as one thing and it's evolved. Happens all the time in your type of lifestyle I'd bet."

"It does..." She twisted her hands in her lap. Kate didn't understand that Christian was unlike anyone she'd ever met before. His word was solid.

"Ana. You love him. And that's great," Kate started only to be interrupted.

"No! I do not love him, Kate. I can't. He…he's…not available like that. And after seeing Dominick like that, pining and sad…I won't let myself go that far. Like? Yes. I like him a lot. A hell of a lot. But he's made it clear that emotions like that aren't something he's capable of or something he'll tolerate in his submissive."

Kate cringed at the word. As supportive as she was of anything Ana wanted to do, BDSM still held an element of misogyny that she couldn't get past no matter how many times they'd circled this conversation.

"You're more than a sub to him, Ana. I mean, the guy has never been photographed with anyone before. _Anyone!_ But in the last three months he's been photographed with you at two events, a party at his family's home and two times at the Mile High Club. Oh! And there's that picture of you at that coffee shop from Saturday morning too. The one where he's twirling your hair behind you while you guys are ordering. That was so sweet my teeth hurt when I saw it."

"He's not been photographed with anyone because he doesn't want them to think of him as their boyfriend. With me, he's safe because he knows the reason I ended it with Dominick was because he wanted more and I didn't."

"That's not the only reason you left Dominick, Ana. Don't make it seem like you're so emotionally unavailable because you're only spiting yourself." Kate paused and cocked her head to the side. "Does Christian know the other reason you left?"

"No," she sighed heavily, flopping down onto the cushions with the phone resting on her chest. "Not because I'm hiding it, just because it's not important."

_But it is,_ Kate reasoned to herself. If Christian Grey came into this agreement under the assumption that he was with a woman who was so uninterested in relationships that she left her last Dom because that's what he wanted, then he was operating under incomplete pretenses.

"Does Christian want kids?"

"God, Kate! That came out of nowhere. The guy doesn't even want a girlfriend let alone a wife and kids."

"You know why I'm asking so stop stalling. I get why you thought it was necessary to end things with Dominick if you couldn't give him the one thing he most wanted. I get it. You felt it was the right thing to do, you felt it was noble, whatever."

"It _was_ the right thing to do, Kate!" Ana sat up and glared at the blond who was so right and such an inescapable truth to her reality. "He built his entire life around children. All he ever talked about towards the end was how he was ready to settle down and how badly he wanted to see what his own offspring would look like and be like."

"If he had known that you couldn't have kids and had never had that conversation, would you have tried at a normal romantic relationship with him?"

_God damn it! Why had I wanted to talk to her?_

"Yes. I probably would have but the truth is, his emotions began to suffocate me the second I tried to be more with him. So who knows?"

"Ana," Kate groaned, grabbing at her hair in frustration. "He suffocated you because he was in love with you."

"And love is an emotion. So ergo, his emotions suffocated me."

"Look, I admit I don't know a ton about love and commitment but I do know this. When you love someone, them loving you back is awesome, not suffocating. Just because you felt that way when things with Dominick went that route does not mean they will with Christian."

Flopping onto her back Ana covered her eyes with one arm and blew out a frustrated breath. "I liked this conversation a lot better when we were talking about you. Can we please stop, I've already said way more than I should have."

Kate laughed and clicked through more pictures on TMZ, turning the computer when Elliot appeared. "Fine. Let's talk about this beautiful creature. What I want to know is how, in all my years of hooking up, have I not crossed paths with him? I'd have jumped all over that. Courtney Sadler and Stephanie Compo said he was an animal in bed and I've heard that from other people too. I bet his number is way higher than mine." She clucked and stroked the screen with a manicured nail. "I sure would like for him to add another notch on my bedpost."

Ana rolled her eyes and checked her phone one last time before standing to go to bed. "He's nice too you know. I think as bad as his reputation is, he's actually a really good guy who just hasn't found the right girl to settle down with yet. But as slutty as he is, when he does meet her, he'll fall hard and fast and that'll be all she wrote!"

"Then keep me away from him because I do _not_ need to be settling down with anyone anytime soon," Kate muttered, blowing her friend a kiss goodnight.

Five minutes later, tucked under her blankets with a book she wasn't paying attention to, her phone finally rang. Her fingers tingled, her lips turned up in a smile, a small squeal of excitement escaping before she answered.

"Hi, Christian." His mood lightened, the annoyance of the board room sloughing off with just those two words.

"Good evening, Anastasia. I'm sorry to be calling so late but we just now wrapped things up and I've just finished dinner and my security briefing. How was your day? I understand you spent it with friends?"

She missed the bitter inflection, missed the overtone of jealousy that tinged his words. His interest in her day was real but his interest in the men that spent so many hours with her in her element was paramount. Taylor had delivered their background checks last night and had ordered Sawyer to stay within 12 feet instead of his standard 30 but despite knowing he had someone on staff who would report any illicit activity to him, Christian still stressed out over what could have happened.

"I did. The guys and my friend Lauren came down to help me find a place to host my show and then we had dinner at the Fairmont. Which, by the way, was totally unnecessary but very much appreciated."

"It was my pleasure. Your friends found the suite to be to their liking?"

Ana grinned, absolutely sure that his generosity had more to do with keeping the boys out of her apartment than anything else. But he had been so kind to arrange dinner and drinks and truth be told she'd hate the idea of another woman staying with him so she brushed it out of her mind and chose instead to find the sweetness of it all.

"They were beside themselves. Thank you, that was so very nice of you."

_Nice. Right._

"Again, my pleasure. Did you find a place?"

"I think so. Are you familiar with the Lo-Fi?"

He was not so while she chattered on about her nerves and the set up of the stage and seating, he brought up the website and shot it over to Taylor for a thorough check. Sawyer had kept him abreast throughout the day on each place but he'd not been privy to her final decision.

"It's pretty big so I'm a bit anxious about filling it but Kate, she's my roommate in case you forgot, she's going to spread the word and I know all of my students will come and bring friends. I mean, worse comes to worse and it's just my family and close friends I'll just sing, play and get out of there, right?"

She was rambling which meant she was afraid and damn if that didn't make his stomach feel heavy. He should have been the one scouting out places and talking her down from her fears.

"Ana, you'll be awesome. I'm sure of it. Knowing you, you'll have the entire place filled up."

_Awesome._ She almost giggled. _Christian Grey said awesome._

"How was your day?"

_When I wasn't obsessively wondering if one of those schmucks were touching you or flirting with you?_

"Tolerable. The entire acquisition down here is a big fat fucking problem but that's what happens when the government runs your business." He pinched the bridge of his nose and slid under the comforter. "I've completed hundreds of projects and never have I felt such resistance to what is only a win/win deal for them. Normally I wouldn't be concerned but this deal has 40 thousand peoples livelihoods riding on it."

The pressure was taking its toll on him too. He'd been in some serious dog fights over the years. He'd come to blows with two presidents, he'd faced down more board of directors than he could count but something about this particular take over had his heart in his throat more often than not.

"Wow. 40 thousand is a lot of people."

Yes, it was. And that was what weighed on Christian's conscious so heavily. Because it didn't end at 40 thousand people. There were families attached to each of those individuals, some of whom he'd seen as he was driven through the poor streets of Mexico City. What was strangling him though was knowing that if he didn't get control of Inovations Alegres and soon, every one of them would be unemployed by June. He didn't think of himself as a savior to anyone, he'd never been one to wax poetic but the truth was, he was the only hope this company had of making it.

"Yes it is." He needed a distraction, a break from the pressure and the poverty, a quiet void of space where his thoughts stopped and his mind rested. He needed _her_. Here, in his bed, soft and pliable in his arms.

"Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, I know I'm just a music teacher but I can do filing or phone calls."

He laughed but not the laugh of someone who found humor in her words. He laughed the laugh of someone who was both touched and comforted.

"I've got plenty of people on staff who can file and make phone calls. I've even got someone whose sole job is to ensure that upper management eats healthy meals each day. What I do not have here, is someone who can take care of my baser needs." He tapped one finger on lips that were made for sin. "I would even classify them as my most important needs."

"I should hope you don't have that there, Mr. Grey, seeing as I'm in Seattle!" she joked, the burden of his day lifting piece by piece.

"Exactly. I'm going to Skype you in one minute, Ms. Steele. Cute as you are in that tank top, I want you totally naked when you answer." And with that he hung up. No goodbye. No waiting for her agreement.

She stripped and checked her night table for the vibrator he'd given her to take home along with the bottle of lube though she doubted she'd need it. Her iPad rang with his call, her trembling fingers hitting the accept button so that the screen filled with a very naked, very hard, Christian Grey.

_Oh my God he's so beautiful._

"You look good, Ana." For a moment he just looked; took her in, imagined the smooth satin feel of her skin. Felt the heavy weight of her breasts in his hands, the firmness of her flat stomach, the slippery silk of her pussy.

_Fuck I want to be there right now._ "Pluck those sweet nipples for me, baby," he gently demanded, his own hand curling around the base of his shaft as he watched.

_Little blue flowers._ He'd never seen her bedroom or anything in it, had never even thought about what her space might look like but now, between watching her touch herself and long strokes of his dick he noticed it all. White washed bed frame, photo of her with some girlfriends propped up on the night table, another behind it of what he assumed was her parents.

He guided her with seductively spoken commands; _'suck your fingers', 'touch your clit_ _like I would', 'taste yourself_' until finally he'd ordered her to cum, the sight of her mouth as she silently cried out enough to push him over the edge.

With a wry grin he wiped himself clean and smiled at her. "I've never Skype sexed before," he admitted, tossing the washcloth onto the bathroom floor before laying back down.

"I'm honored to be your first then," Ana giggled while she watched him. Somehow he could make a grainy video look graceful.

His head cocked to the side, that strange and new feeling of insecurity poking at his gut. "Am I _your_ first, Ms. Steele?"

_Shit. It always comes back to what I've done in the past._

"Mr. Grey, I don't ask you about your past dalliances."

_So she had. Mother fucker!_ He could pursue this line of questioning only to get an answer he already knew, or he could drop it and listen to all the small details of her day that he'd not yet heard.

Flynn had picked up on the undercurrent of jealousy during their last session and had sunk his teeth into it with all his might. At the time Christian just gave him a blank look as he prattled on about alienating her, about the way he'd eventually appear weak, about how unfair it was to her to hold her accountable for things she did before him but now, it all came back to him. _Fuck. I hate when he's right. _

She waited, her heart picking up with each passing second. He'd looked so tired when he'd first called, so clearly weighed down with whatever was going on down there and for a few moments he'd let that all go and had come alive before her eyes. But now, with his fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose, those lines on his forehead were deeper than ever.

"You're right," he conceded, his hand dropping to the empty space beside him. He'd never noticed the size of any bed before but now they all seemed huge unless Ana was with him. "You do not and for that I am appreciative. I shall attempt to return the favor," he joked, her shoulders slumping with relief.

"What did you have for dinner?" she asked.

"Dinner? Uh…" She'd caught him off guard. _Dinner. What did I have for dinner?_ "A hacienda salad with shredded beef and an iced tea." He paused and looked at her. "What did you have?" He'd never before carried on such mindless banter but suddenly he really wanted to know what she had eaten. He wanted to know _everything_.

"Shrimp cocktail and a Caesar salad."

"That's it? That's not enough, Anastasia. Go get something from the kitchen, I'll wait."

"I also ate an entire box of Trader Joe's gorgonzola crackers with Kate. I'm not hungry, trust me."

"An entire box?"

"Yup," she said almost proudly. "They're the best. We go through three boxes a week unless Kate's upset about a guy. Then it's a five box week."

It was all so natural, so normal, so unforced. What had always been banal and boring to him was suddenly more interesting to him than the current state of the business he was working on. Knowing how fast she ran her three miles this morning, knowing that she'd gotten a blister from walking so much, knowing that she was working 14 hours tomorrow all took precedence over the red blinking light of his phones email alert system.

When they'd both begun to grow weary he laid his head on the pillow and made a simple request.

"Will you play me a song?"

Anxiety spiked through her gut, the fear of performance always a worthy contender against her sanity.

"A song?"

"On the guitar since I doubt you have a piano in your bed." She smiled, his lips curling up at the sight so that she couldn't refuse him no matter how nervous she was.

"OK, one song and then you have to go to sleep."

"Deal," was his quick response. For a minute she was out of the frame as she retrieved the guitar he'd given her and then quickly tuned it by ear. Out of habit she strummed the basic chords, her fingers sliding over the neck of the instrument she'd come to love.

With her eyes closed she took in a lungful of air and slowly pushed it out as she began to play. He grinned when he recognized the beginning stanzas to Pink Floyd's _'Wish You Were Here'._ Her voice was as smooth and sure as her playing but it was when she sang_ 'How I wish, how I wish you were here, we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl'_ that he physically felt the pain of separation from her. _Does she? Does she wish I were there?_

She understood him on a level nobody else ever had. The same separation he'd felt from humanity for so long, the way he'd always felt as if he stood on the edge of the circle…he recognized that in her as well. Despite the beauty of the woman serenading him, despite the fact that it was only midnight and therefore hours before he usually fell asleep his lids grew heavy and his limbs relaxed against the sheets.

When she was finished he just stared at the screen, the emotions he'd been trying to logically explain away for weeks fighting to break through his tough exterior. For a few seconds she smiled back and then she blew him a kiss before leaning forward and disconnecting the call.

A minute later her phone vibrated with a text, the words simple and straightforward.

**-I hate not sleeping with you.**

**+Pretend I'm there and dream of me.**

**-I always do.**


	16. Chapter 16

Luke Sawyer was not a man who was easily intimidated. Standing at 6' 4" and weighing in at about 255, he'd always found life to be a bit easier for him if for no other reason that nobody messed with him. And sure, he'd admittedly spent a night or two in the recent past wanking off to the tight bodied brunette he'd been tasked with following around but after meeting her father, that shit was sure to be over. He wouldn't risk the wrath of Raymond Steele even in his dreams no matter how hot his daughter was.

It wasn't because Steele was the same size in both height and weight. It wasn't because he had been a two star general or that he'd served in two wars for a total of six deployments. It hadn't even been because the man had received not one, but _two_ purple hearts. It was because Luke Sawyer knew what a man leashing his brutality looked like and from what he could see, Steele had been holding those chains a bit too long. The man was simply terrifying.

"What exactly is it that you do, Mr. Sawyer?" he'd asked in as non-combative a way as possible but Luke got his meaning well enough. He may not have his own kids but he knew the look of a man who would snap him in half if his little girl got hurt.

"I work for Christian Grey, Ms. Steele's good friend. He's a prominent and wealthy figure and is prone to receiving threats from around the world on a regular basis. Anastasia has been seen with him in public and therefore is considered at risk by the security team at GEH and also by Mr. Grey. I can assure you he has only her best interest and safety in mind."

"I'm sure," Ray said, his eyes mere slits as he studied the CPO in front of him. "You called him her good friend. Surely you don't believe that's all there is."

It wasn't a question but Sawyer knew he'd have to answer it anyway. _What to the ever loving fuck have I gotten myself into?_ _Suddenly this job doesn't pay nearly enough dough._

"I don't discuss my client's or my targets personal life, General Steele though I can again assure you that Mr. Grey's intentions are honorable."

_Honorable. Right._ He hadn't graduated second in his West Point class only to turn dumb down the road. "Your _target_, Mr. Sawyer? Did you just call my daughter your _target_?"

_Fuck me. He couldn't have been an accountant? A doctor? A cop? Shit, at this point I'd be ok with a damn politician._

"Major Sawyer, Sir," he tossed out taking a risk at being found disrespectful. He'd hoped it would cause Ray to soften his stance a bit, maybe feel a small tad of comradery but the older man did nothing but nod to acknowledge his rank as he waited for his answer. "I meant no disrespect, General. It's common verbage in our line of work." Ray crossed his arms and waited for more. "Calling the people we're protecting targets help to keep our minds focused on preforming a job by distancing ourselves from becoming friends."

"Well, Major Sawyer, let me explain how your job will work from here on out. That girl in there that you've been tasked with protecting? She's my baby. I spent hundreds of nights rocking her. I was there for her first steps, her first word, the first time she had a fever and the first time she fell off her bike. So she may look like a grown woman and she may act like one but she's my little girl until the day we're both dead."

He took a step back and widened his stance. Luke had to fight the urge to salute him so strong was his military persona.

"She likes chocolate with nuts in it but her favorite candy is Hot Tamales. She can read a thousand page book in a day if it's good enough and she'll cry when it's over because she feels like she's lost a friend. She broke her collarbone falling off the monkey bars in third grade and every time it rains she gets a headache still because of it. She loves snow days, hooded sweatshirts and sleeping in. If you're her friend she'll go to hell and back for you and act like it was nothing. She can sing like an angel and play like one too and if you're lucky, she'll do both for you. She calls her momma every other day and drives almost three hours every few weeks just to watch Monday night football with her daddy."

He took two steps, close enough for Ray to see the twitch of uncertainty in the younger mans eyes. "Her name is Anastasia Rose Steele. She is not a target. She is a human and you will refer to her as such from this moment forward. Are we clear?"

Luke swallowed. "Yes, Sir. We are clear."

"Good," Ray said, relaxing his stance and stepping back to the doorway outside of Ana's apartment. "Now, what does an almost thirty year old billionaire want with my daughter?"

_I would be grateful if he'd just pull out the gun I'm sure is hidden on him and put me out of this misery._ _I'm not the one tying her pretty ass up and making her beg for my dick._ _And by the way General Douchbag, have you seen your precious daughter? She's hot as shit and sexy as fuck. What do you think he wants with her?_ His mouth opened, the words on the tip of his tongue but he saw the gleam in Ray's blue eyes and chose the path of life instead.

"I believe he's in love with her, General. And her safety means more to him than anything else. It's the first thing he wants to know about at our daily briefings and the first thing he wants tweaked for every outing. Everything in his life revolves around Ms. Steele." _Even if the boss is too dumb to notice that little tidbit. She must have one fine pussy..._

Ray's blood pressure ticked up, his mouth drying at the realization that it was no longer boys that were trying to take his baby girl from him. This was a full grown man with the means to sweep her off her feet and the face pretty enough to distract her while he did it. Damn. But love? That was not what he had been expecting the man in front of him to come back with. For a few seconds he let the word bluster about his head, the sound of it in relation to Ana and this unknown man a painful clanging between his ears.

_Love? Of course he loved her. How could he not? My Annie is perfect. Keep talking, kid. Keep talking._

"And you were hired due to a direct threat?"

"No, Sir. At the time I was hired because a few members of the media had been following your daughter around and as I said, Mr. Grey was highly concerned that it would frighten her at the least and harm her at the worst. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take."

"Has he requested anything from you that you would find ethically questionable?"

_Oh fuck me with blunt object._

"Let me cut to the chase here," Ray said, his face setting into that hard mask again. "You are with my daughter all day, every day. You know her habits, you know her friends, you know her routine. Are you here to spy on her and ensure that she stays in line, or are you here to jump in front of a bullet for her?"

"My job is to protect Ms. Steele's life even at the cost of my own, Sir." Luke figured the truth was the safest route to go since something told him that Ray Steele was a man who knew when he was being lied to even if it was by omission. "There have been a small number of times where my intel was relayed to Mr. Grey as to whom she was with and what they were doing. But that's standard operating procedure."

"Is part of your job to keep tabs on my daughter, Major Sawyer?"

"No, Sir." He kept his eyes from blinking, paid attention to the beat of his heart and consciously kept from fisting his palms. He'd been taught how to lie during an interrogation and not get caught. He'd never needed those lessons until this very second.

Ray chuckled, reached for the door handle and gave Sawyer one last, long look. Those lessons meant jack shit when faced with a two star general. _The man already knows the answer. Why the hell am I in the hot seat? I'm not the one finger banging your daughter in the elevator!_

"Keep her safe, Major. _That's_ your job. You start spying and forcing her into the bubble that is your boss's world and we're going to have a life changing conversation you and I. You get me?"

"Yes, Sir. I understand." And just to be safe he saluted even after the door had clicked closed for the night. That was not a man he wanted to piss off.

* * *

"Sir, your car is waiting."

_I don't care. I don't care. I don't fucking care. Get me the hell out of this place._

But despite his hatred of all things except home right now, Christian knew that tonight was the crux of the entire trip. Tonight, he'd sit down with the top three executives of Inovations Alegres and the President of Mexico to attempt to cultivate some good will. It was going to be a long night and an even longer shot.

All week the same bull shit had persisted. Arguments over tariffs and shipping fees, refusals from the Mexican government to confirm that their payoff would go directly to helping the poorest people in the region, blistering heat and stifling humidity and the near constant attention of one Gisele Gomez. Or as Ros was now referring to her, G-cup Gizzy.

It didn't matter that Christian had verbally embarrassed her on Tuesday or that she had been totally ignored by him on Wednesday and Thursday, she'd still asked to accompany him to the dinner tonight. Nobody but a dead man wouldn't notice her huge tits or the way she did everything in the book to be seductive but it all meant nothing in the end. Because each sway of her inflated chest made him think of the way Ana's breasts had looked on Skype the night before when she'd bounced up and down with excitement over the news that he'd be home Sunday instead of Monday. Each run of red nails down her neck made his mouth water as he remembered the taste of Ana's skin when he sucked on that sensitive spot beneath her ear. Each bat of her lashes had him fantasizing about the way Ana's eyes looked when she was giving him head and staring up at him.

So when she'd strutted over to him at the end of the final factory tour this afternoon and had shown great audacity by asking if he'd like to attend as her guest tonight, he'd had about all he could take.

"_Your_ guest, Ms. Gomez? I am the guest of President Calderon. _You_ were invited as an afterthought in the hopes that our companies would have come to an understanding at this point. As that is not the case and you continue to waste my time and allow the jobs of your countrymen to hang in the balance, I won't be attending as your guest, your friend, your acquaintance or your business partner. You simply will exist in the same space as me tonight for as short of a time as I can manage."

He'd walked away from her then, a smirk on his face as he allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy the verbal release. Everything was getting to him from the way Andrea kept refilling his water glass to the way the ugly painting in the boardroom hung crookedly. In a word, he was irritated.

It didn't help that Ana was going to be spending the weekend with Jose Rodriguez though it was a small consolation that he had a fiancée now who would be in tow. What really got to him though was that it was Jose who would be hanging out with Ana's parents. It wasn't that Christian really wanted to meet Ray and Carla Steele but still, the idea of her in such an intimate setting with another man around had him pissed off. It was all just a bit too...cozy for him.

They'd spoken nightly once he had made his way back to the hotel and was ready to relax after days filled with festering frustration and stagnant debates. As satisfying as Skype sex had been, he'd tired of it after the second night. Not that he had refused it of course. Anything was better than nothing as far as he was concerned but he knew exactly how many hours it would be before he could sink his cock deep inside that silky heat she'd put on display for him. His hand was a poor substitute for that ultra feminine body that tormented him from thousands of miles away.

_Fuck I need to cut this trip even shorter._ Business travel had never been high on his short list of things he enjoyed but now that he had someone back at home it was damn near torturous. Sure, he'd had subs and had had to travel but leaving them had never once been an issue. A good hard session before he left, another when he returned and not a second thought in between.

"Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Steele have arrived. According to Sawyer they're in for the night and are planning to depart for Bainbridge at nine tomorrow morning." Taylor moved to Christian's side as protocol demanded and alerted the transport team that the boss was on his way out.

"They received the floral arrangement upon their arrival?" he asked, buttoning up his tux when the elevator doors slid shut.

Taylor bit back the smile and did his best to look down in case the mirrored walls gave him away. When Andrea told him she'd been ordered to send Carla a welcome bouquet he'd thought he'd heard it all but when she mentioned the imported, and illegal cigars Christian had had delivered to Ray he'd almost fallen out of his chair. _Imagine that. The boss kissing ass to a set of parents. Never thought I'd see the day._

"They did. Mrs. Steele was surprised but seemed genuinely touched. Mr. Steele was a bit more reserved in his appreciation." _Or leery if I need to be accurate._

Christian barked out a laugh and nodded to the ground CPO waiting in the lobby for him. _If Ray Steele had any idea what I was doing to his daughter both in my mind and in real life, he'd have me flayed, strung up, castrated and buried._ He'd take reserved appreciation.

In the car Taylor handed him the printout of the days intel including all activities worth reporting at GEH and in the Grey Family. Other than Mia getting drunk with a new girlfriend from her school in Paris, the day had been relatively quiet which was a good thing considering everything in Mexico was going to shit.

"You hired Prescott for close CPO tomorrow?"

"Yes, Sir. She's spent the last three days in training and spent the morning shadowing Sawyer. She'll be meeting him at Ms. Steele's residence in the morning."

The streets of Mexico City flew by as they made their way to meet with President Calderon. Taylor cleared his throat, struggling with exactly how to explain the next small bit of news before ultimately deciding on just spitting it out as factually as possible.

"Sawyer also informed me that Ray Steele took him aside and grilled him as to the reason his presence was necessary, what your intentions were with his daughter and how he expected Ms. Steele to be treated and cared for." He watched the boss's brows raise in surprise and then saw the battle ready mask fall back into place.

"And?"

"Steele was assured that your intentions were honorable, that his presence was to ensure her safety and that he would treat Anastasia as demanded by her father." Taylor rushed, adding, "It's not far off of what our protocol is anyway but he felt it was better to pacify the man rather than encourage a confrontation."

Christian sat back, the collar of his shirt suddenly damp despite the cold air blowing directly on him. Ray Steele sounded nothing if not angry and on alert, two things Welch had warned him about and two things he'd been hoping to avoid when he'd called off the investigation into Morton's whereabouts.

"Get him on the line."

Taylor didn't need to ask who. As confrontational as Grey was, speaking with Ana's father was probably the last thing he wanted to do. _Welcome to dating, Grey. You better pray that man never finds out about that room at the top of the stairs._

In his normal brusque way Christian launched into an interrogation of Luke Sawyer, bypassing all pleasantries and getting right to the heart of it. But nothing that Steele had said indicated that he was aware of Grey's lifestyle, his digging into his daughters past or his intrusion into Ana's private life.

When they'd hung up he'd turned to Taylor and asked as casually as he could, "Is that type of behavior normal from a young woman's father?"

_Oh fuck I'm going to laugh right in his face._ "Every girl I ever dated had a father who hated me. My first wife's father would have murdered me himself if he thought he could have gotten away with it. Now that I have a daughter of my own, I get the hate." _And if my Sophie ever dates a man with secrets like yours, I wouldn't hesitate to kill him._

"We're not dating, Taylor," Christian said with an edge. "You know how my relationships work."

_I used to. But since you called it a relationship and not your standard 'arrangement', you've got me all sorts of confused. Much like you're confused._

"Yes, Sir, I do. Permission to speak freely?"

"Go ahead."

"Don't mention that to Ray Steele, Sir. If he asks, you're dating his daughter. You are not in an arrangement."

Christian snorted and looked out the window as Los Pinos came into view. He'd been to the Presidential Residence once before on his last visit but this time his hopes were a bit higher even if his frustration was at an all-time high.

"Point taken," he said just before his door opened and the cameras began to click as the media clamored to get a shot of him. Normally this type of attention drove him crazy and made him want to become a hermit but when a deal like this one was on the line, the more attention he could garner the better.

Inside, after being formally announced and then greeted by President Calderon he found himself agitated to find that he'd been seated across from Gisele Gomez despite demanding that Andrea ensure that he be as far from her as possible.

To her credit she took his earlier brush off with dignity and smiled politely before taking her seat. But polite as she was and business like as she carried herself Christian Grey had dealt with enough women to know that the smallest interaction would start her up all over again. So while the current CEO of Inovations Alegres kissed the Presidents ass by tossing out bull shit fluff about the state of the acquisition, Grey did what he always did and played aloof.

Oh sure he engaged in idle chit chat about the current political and criminal problems Mexico was facing but he didn't try to sell anyone in the room about what he deemed best for their country. Which was as obvious as the nose on his face. They needed secure jobs, continuing education and something worth fighting for. All of which GEH was offering, albeit in a much smaller dose than the country needed. But it was a start and one they'd not yet been offered. If the powers that be couldn't see that what Grey was proposing could be the catalyst to real change, then they were more stupid than he'd thought.

As he suspected, they had made little if any progress during dinner so when Calderon moved a small group of them to the drawing room, Christian wasn't surprised in the least. This was a dance he'd watched unfold more times than he could count so he sat silently as a well scripted scene played out in front of him. Their veiled threats and less than wise game of wills fell on deaf ears and a hardening heart. Clearly the government felt they had the upper hand and was firmly entrenched in the belief that if they resisted every other suggestion, that eventually Grey would do as he was being asked if for no other reason than that he hated to lose.

They had very obviously not done their due diligence in researching the man sitting in front of them or the woman to his right because once Christian and Ros came to their bottom line decisions, nothing, no body and no amount of consequences was going to swing them. When neither of them showed so much as an ounce of emotion, not a wrinkle of worry or a blink of incredulity the conversation went in a decidedly different direction. Jovial compliments became abrasive barbs, smiles became sneers and easy laughter became muttered insults.

By midnight he was so mentally exhausted and so physically keyed up that he nodded at Ros to go ahead and excuse them, her abrasive yet effective manner leaving no room for argument. The deal was in the exact same spot it was when he'd gotten here and he'd missed his call with Ana. All in all a completely wasted evening.

"Mr. Grey," the President said, his cold hand clasped around Christian's, "I am looking forward to seeing what we can accomplish together for my great country and your great company."

"President Calderon, with all due respect, unless your government steps out of my business, there won't be anything to see. You all have two weeks to agree to our terms or we walk away from the deal entirely. Thank you for dinner."

_Two more days of this dance and I'll be back in Seattle to work out my aggression and stress on that sweet little body I can't seem to stop thinking about._ And _that_ was the rub. He could not, no matter how many balls he had in the air, stop thinking about his submissive back home. But what had him shooting back an extra scotch back at the hotel as he set up his iPad for a very late night Skype call, was that it was her _company_ he was missing. Sure, he was dying to get her sweet cream all over his face, tongue and cock but it was so much more than that. What had his juices flowing was the vision of Ana in his Harvard sweatshirt that she had somehow claimed as hers, curled up on the couch in the library with her book and her tea, her feet in his lap.

_More. God damn that word._ So small and benign yet one he avoided at all costs when it came to his interaction with women. Except lately, that word was synonymous with Ana and anything that pertained to her. He started to give himself the pullback pep talk but three months into this thing with her and pulling back was quite clearly never going to happen. Where that left him he had no idea but he knew one thing, he wasn't about to try to figure it out in a hotel room with a hard on and a slight buzz.

So instead he smiled big when she answered, her hair messed up from the few hours of sleep she'd already gotten. _I bet she's warm from head to toe. Warm and soft and malleable to my body behind her. _His cock twitched but it was his heart that jumped at the thought.

She caught him up on her day and thanked him for the generous gifts he'd had delivered for her parents before he noticed her yawn for the third time in two minutes. She'd insisted on hearing about the more succinct points of his day, a ritual he was not at all familiar with but one he found somehow cathartic. She listened intently, expressing her disdain at the way things were going for him with a cute wrinkle of her nose and the occasional snort. It was strange to share information like this with someone who didn't work for him and more strange to feel somehow lightened by it.

When he'd purged his day and told her about the annoying advances of G-Gizzy, the horrible toupee of Inovation Alegre's CEO and the way Ros had flipped the President the bird once in the car she'd giggled and yawned again, her dainty hand covering her mouth while his own adjusted his erection. Much as he'd like to engage her in a little play, she was tired and it was late and well, she looked so comfortable all snuggled into her flowered comforter he decided he'd wait until tomorrow. He'd said goodnight and felt his heart trip when she blew him a kiss and then clicked off the call, no doubt curling her body into the position she was so fond of.

He liked that he knew that about her. Found that it made him happy to know how she slept or how she liked her tea in the morning. He missed her quirks, the way she shivered when he'd touch her, the sound she made when he kissed her for the first time each visit, the way she'd sit in her panties and play the guitar on her bed when she thought he was working.

"Andrea," he barked into the phone, not giving half a fuck that it was past two in the morning. "I want out of here early on Sunday. Alegres CEO can suck it if he thinks I'm going to attend a celebration cocktail reception for a deal that isn't closed yet."

"Yes, Sir," she yawned into the phone. "I just sent an email to Taylor, Welch and your international pilot. I'll get you a time, Sir."

_Forty hours._He could do this. He'd waited 29 years already, what was a few more days?

* * *

_It was a shame really,_ Ray thought as he watched his only daughter laugh at a joke Jose Jr. had just told. He'd had high hopes for the two of them but he knew the second Jose brought Violet around that any dreams he had of Ana marrying his best friends son and therefore a man he knew was good was out the door.

He was glad that from all appearances Ana seemed to be well taken care of by this new man in her life but Ray had some serious doubts when it came to the illustrious Christian Grey. Starting with how the two of them met and ending with the fact that he'd hired a CPO for her. Not that he minded the extra safety, truth is he'd thought of doing the same thing on nights when his mind got away from him, but something about Grey just seemed a bit too…controlling.

And the way Ray Steele saw it, the only one who should control Anastasia was Anastasia.

"You've got to find out more, Carla. A man like Christian Grey doesn't hang out in night clubs. Something about that just seems fishy to me."

"Oh Ray, you think everything is fishy when it comes to men and your daughter. She's 22. At some point you're going to need to let go of the rocking chair. And he's not even 30, of course he still goes out to night clubs."

He snorted and took a long pull of the beer his absent host had so graciously stocked the yacht with. Ana had explained the well-choreographed weekend as nothing more than safety but Ray had a feeling that Grey knew the rare prize Ana was and was intent on keeping her all to himself and what better way to do that than to surround her with his staff?. _Well,_ he thought, tipping the long necked bottle back, _at least he knows she's something special._

"You're telling me that none of this seems strange to you, Carla? Dinner at _his_ restaurant, a chartered yacht that _he_ arranged for, a personal tour guide sent by _him_, a catered brunch that _he_ set up? Come on, baby, open your eyes. Your daughter is involved with someone who can buy anything he wants, including her solitude. I don't like it."

And he didn't but that wasn't what was really niggling at his side. Someone had been searching for the whereabouts of one Stephen Morton, a name that had been long buried and forgotten by everyone, including law enforcement. So when his good friend General Francis sent him a cryptic email to call him asap, he'd done so the first chance he could get.

"Someone's searching data bases for your guy. No hits yet, not that there will be. I've got the system they're using tracked down to a burner computer somewhere in London and another in Tokyo so whoever's looking knows what they're doing," he'd said into the satellite phone from a base in Syria.

Years of military training had kept Ray as cool as possible, a short, "Thank you, Sir," before he ended the call and poured himself a big ass glass of whiskey. It had taken him all of three minutes before he determined that the only person, other than Morton's now deceased mother who could give two shits about where he was, could only be Ana.

And by extension, Christian Grey.

But without anything to prove that he was the one looking, Ray would have to rely on gathering intelligence and conversational suggestions with Ana herself. He would have gone through Kate had he seen her last night but she was so fiercely protective over Ana that he doubted it would have done him any good anyway.

If it _was_ Grey, his motives could only be morbid curiosity and not retribution but still, mixing up settled water only ever brought the mud right back to the surface. And this was some thick, heavy, dirty mud.

"Did you enjoy lunch, Dad?" She sat down with the casual ease only a child with their parent possesses and rested her head on Ray's huge bicep. "I know it wasn't your usual fare but I thought it was really good."

"Does your boyfriend always eat like a rabbit? Or was that a not so subtle hint that your old man has put on a few pounds since retirement?" he chided, lifting his arm to pull his baby girl in close. "I'm kidding. It was nice. I've never had barramundi before. Can't say I'll have it again but it was tasty nonetheless."

"Good. I'm glad you liked it. Did you bring any of the cigars? I told Mr. Rodriguez about them and he's anxious to try one." She didn't address the fact that he called Christian her boyfriend nor did she pause to analyze the swarm of butterflies that took off in her belly when he'd said it. Despite her resolve to not over analyze everything, she really wanted her mom and dad to like Christian even if they were never going to meet him. Keeping the nature of their arrangement secret was paramount because if they ever found out what happened behind closed doors, if they knew the nature of their interactions…she knew her father wouldn't think twice about castrating him.

"I wanted to talk to you about that, Annie." Ray shifted a bit and gave Carla a little nod, her sign to get lost for a few minutes. Carla by herself he could handle. Ana by herself he could handle. A battalion of insurgents he could handle. But those two women together? Not a chance.

"Is something wrong, dad?"

He smiled down at the grown woman by his side and saw a ten year old with missing teeth and chapped lips. "No, nothing's wrong, baby. I just wanted to get a feel for this guy seeing as this is the most serious I've seen you with a man and he's clearly kissing my ass with the cigars and all of this." He lifted one arm in a sweeping motion. "I get it. He's rich. Tell him to lay off the yachts and private chefs. I'm more of a wings and beer kinda guy."

He was joking which was a good sign but Ana knew he was holding back and waited for it to come. It wasn't like Ray Steele was the most talkative person around but when he had something to say, you'd better listen because he didn't yell or carry on or rant or rave. He acted. So if you wanted to avoid the consequence, it was best to understand the situation and react accordingly.

"He's good to you, Annie? Makes you laugh? Makes you happy to wake up in the mornings?"

"Yes, Dad. He's very good to me. And I promise you that as serious and mean as he's portrayed in the media, he's actually a very normal, very down to earth guy." _Which wasn't a total lie,_ she told herself. He was pretty easy going around her but that's where it ended.

"You trust him?"

"Yes."

Ray sighed and leaned his head back. Did he bring it up? Did he open that door that he'd worked so fucking hard to shut and seal?

"Do you trust him enough to share your past with him?"

She felt the rock settle in her gut immediately. Something was up. You don't spend the majority of your life under the care of a two star general without learning to prick your ears up every now and again.

"I do," she answered slowly. "Though what he knows is limited and only because he's seen some of the reprocussions of it."

His throat closed and his heart banged painfully against the confines of his chest at her admittance. _She still struggled. Fuck! _

"And his reaction?" He barely got the words out before his eyes stung with tears. His baby was still afraid. He'd not done enough to make it right even though there was nothing more he could have done.

"He didn't understand at first but he reacted instinctively with tenderness and a willingness to listen. He was careful with me from day one but after...after he saw me like that...he's been...I can't explain it, Dad. He makes sure I'm taken care of." She was fidgeting, wringing her fingers in her lap and biting her bottom lip just like she did as a little kid when she was nervous. To see her like this, nervous, anxious, fighting even after all these years. It slayed him. Broke his heart into tiny bits that fell around his feet. What did it matter if this guy found out what he'd done? He'd put a smile on Ana's face that Ray hadn't seen in years and that alone was reason enough for Ray to step back so that he could see the bigger picture.

"Ana, between Christian and myself, nobody will ever hurt you again. Between the two of us you will always be protected. You know that, right, baby?" _Well shit, I've just become partners with the enemy. _

She looked up at him with crystal clear blue eyes and blinked. "I do know that, dad. I'm good. He just caught me off guard so I told him a little. Just a tiny amount and then I asked him to drop it which he has."

_Or he picked up a scent and has his people digging for answers that need to stay buried._

"When do mom and I get to meet him? I want to show him my gun collection," he joked, steering the conversation back onto firmer ground now that he'd gotten the information he was looking for. She'd told him enough to prick at his curiosity and to make him seethe at the fear she'd undoubtedly shown him. If this display of wealth and the over abundance of security told him anything, it was that Grey wasn't just resourceful, he was prepared.

_But even so, even if his intentions are noble and his affection for my daughter is well placed, his methods could be the cause of a catastrophic landslide of bull shit._ And that alone warranted a return visit to Seattle when he could show up unannounced.

"I'll be up next month for the Governors dinner, maybe we could meet up then?"

_Shit._ She was pretty sure meeting the parents wasn't part of their contract. But then again, she _had_ met his and he did mention going there next Sunday for dinner so maybe expecting him to hold up the charade for her parents wasn't out of the question.

"I'll ask him but he's a very busy man."

Ray rested his head back, the last rays of the sun warming his face through the glass windows. "Well, if he cares about you, he'll make meeting your family a priority, Annie. He'll find the time."

She hid the sharp pang of sadness that shot through her belly with a sigh and a smile. It was hard to act like a couple. _It would be so much easier if we were a couple…_


	17. Chapter 17

"Where are you rushing off to?" Kate questioned as she watched her friend throw in a few items of clothing before furiously pulling a brush through her long hair, huffing when each knot she ran into.

"Christian's going to be here in a few hours and I forgot that I had promised Lance I'd stop by the Boys and Girls Club to lead tonight's dinner since he took the night off and my parents just left even though they were supposed to go after brunch and ugh! I hate feeling rushed!"

Kate blinked back her surprise and pursed her lips to suppress the smile. Rushed? No. Nervous and excited? That was more likely. Normally she'd be pissed off to see a woman in such a tizzy over a man but this was Ana and nothing made her happier than to see Ana Steele light up like this. Either Grey had a golden cock or Ana Steele was in love. For her friends sake, she hoped it was both.

"Here, let me help you," Kate offered, sitting her friend on the bed so that she could brush out the tangles Ana had created in her hasty shower. "How was the visit with your parents? I wish I could have seen them but I couldn't get out of the PR trip for my dad. Gotta keep up appearances, Katherine! Shoulders back, Katherine! Did you already have a bagel, Katherine? You know, carbs are diet's kryptonite, Katherine." She huffed out a growl and rolled her eyes in disgust. "Appearances. Can you believe he has the audacity to talk to me about appearances? You should have seen him flirting with his secretary. Right in front of my mom too." She shook out her blond curls and felt that familiar empty ache she tried to fill with a never ending stream of faceless one night stands.

"Anyway," she went on, "_she's_ the idiot because as soon as she was out of view he was hitting on the event host. I swear, if I didn't know my mom was screwing her doctor and the gardener I'd be hella pissed off. It's a wonder between the two of them that I don't have more siblings out there though God knows I probably do."

"Does your mom ever say anything to him?"

At that Kate laughed and zipped the bag shut. "Of course not. Then she'd have to stop boinking her boy toys as well. Sex is power, I don't care what anyone says. In some sick way her allowance of his cheating gives her some control over his life. If he wants to keep that sterling Kavanagh Media image he's so carefully cultivated then mom's got to play the part. She'll only do that so long as she's getting what she wants from him."

"Which is?"

"Money. Influence. Control over a sector of his emotions, namely fear of exposure. He may screw around but she's got him by the balls."

"And sleeping with the gardener and the doctor…? What? Makes her less guilty?"

"No, but it makes it sting less I guess. Sex is a game and both of my parents hate to lose."

It had always struck Ana as odd that Ethan had gone to one extreme; marrying his middle school sweetheart straight out of high school, while Kate went to the other end of the spectrum by sleeping with anyone who wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Kate may have learned that love hurts but she'd also learned to never, ever be the other woman.

"So you think, by screwing around with random people and not letting it get to the point where they could hurt you, that you're somehow winning?" Ana's brows knit together as she worked it through. "But what are you winning?"

Kate shrugged and bit her nail, her tell for when she was nervous. "I'm protecting my heart."

"By not letting anyone in? How's that winning? That just sounds like you're missing out."

"Ha!" Kate laughed, "_You're_ one to talk. You've created this entire world of protection around you. And I'm not talking about the CPO's or the airbags in your car or the new fangled alarm system we just got. I'm talking about the fact that you use sex as control and power just like I do except you do it with one person instead of however many I've been with."

"Kate, it's different."

"Not really," she shrugged. "You're setting your own rules just like I am. You're choosing who you'll let between your legs just like I am. You're putting up boundaries to keep emotions and feelings out of the way just like I am. And just like me you didn't know Christian when you first fucked him." She was pushing it she knew but she couldn't help herself. "So really, what's different about it?'

The silence stretched, going from contemplative to awkward until Kate couldn't take another second of it.

"Earth to Ana…"

"Sorry," she shook her head and threw the brush in her overnight bag. "I zoned out there." She huffed, threw the bag over her shoulder and shrugged. "It just _is_ different, K."

Kate let it sink in, let the words fall into place and gave Ana a look of utter triumph.

"Exactly, AnaBanana. What you have with Christian is different and it's about time you admitted it. Go with it." She held up a finger before her friend could protest and flung open the bedroom door giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Sawyers downstairs. He said he was driving you because of the snow."

Ana rolled her eyes and made her way to the front door. "I can't drive nine blocks in the snow but he can land a plane in it. Figure that one out for me," she said with half a laugh.

"Easy. Your life means more to him. The way he sees it, if he dies, what does it matter to him? But if something happens to you, he'd feel the loss acutely." Kate paused, crossed her arms and gave a satisfied smirk. "Know why?"

She was going to regret this but she did it anyway. "Why?"

"Because it's different, Ana. For _both_ of you."

* * *

**-Just landed. Sawyer will let you into the apartment. I'll be there within the hour.**

"Sawyer?"

"Yes, Ms. Steele?" Luke gritted his teeth as his target walked closer, her breasts on modest display in the tight v-neck t-shirt she had on. He'd had a few good runs with her in his fantasies but after the weekend he'd had with her father, even his daydreams had started to stress him out._ I will work for free for an entire year if I can be there when Ray Steele meets Grey. Bonus year if I get to see him find out about the red room._

"Christian said you'd let me into Escala to wait for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am, just got off the phone with Taylor. Are you finished here?" It wasn't that he didn't like or appreciate the Boys and Girls Club. It was that it was nearly impossible to secure an area where forty kids were running around with wild abandon. _Birth control at its finest. Damn these kids are so damn loud. _

Ana pulled her hair into a loose ponytail and zipped up her coat with a smile, patting the head and whispering in the ear of a particularly clingy nine year old boy Luke was pretty sure was suffering from a gigantic crush. _Join the club kid, line starts behind me._

"Yup! I'm ready."

_You better be ready because that man's going to tear you up the minute he sees you. Lucky sonofabitch. I should move my attention onto that pretty little roommate of hers..._

It was strange to be in his space without him. Stranger still to be here alone. Sawyer had immediately dismissed himself to the security suite and had left her to wander. Without much thought she made herself at home, lit the candle on the kitchen island and then set the kettle on to make tea to take the chill off.

In the hall bathroom she brushed out her hair again and freshened up, surprised by the butterflies that had taken residence in her belly as she waited for him to arrive. _Get a grip. It's been a week, you're a submissive and you had better remember that. _With a final deep breath and fluff of her hair she made her way back to the kitchen to see what she could make for them to eat should Christian come home hungry.

The second the plane had begun to taxi he'd prepared himself to disembark. Customs was pretty much a joke for private carriers so he'd answered their inadequate and rote questions with alacrity and had rushed to the car before they'd even made their way to the cockpit. The signal from the phone he'd given her blinked along Sixth Street, the direct route from the Club to his home until it had stopped, the tiny red light registering his address. Alone in the back of the Audi nobody was witness to his satisfied smile nor was there anyone to watch while he popped a few mints and ran his fingers through his hair while he checked out his reflection in the tinted window.

From the front seat Taylor pretended not to notice the way the boss's leg tapped with anticipation or the way he checked himself out in the rearview mirror when they'd pulled into the underground garage. He may as well have been a ghost judging by the way Grey had all but ignored him for the duration of the drive home, a gruff, "Goodnight," the only parting words spoken between them. No matter, Taylor was just as eager to dip his wick as Christian was and if Gail's last text was any indication, she was waiting and ready to start up his fire. _The bags can wait, my wife cannot. _With one final curt nod the men parted, both too keyed up to do much more than grunt.

_Home. Ana is at my home waiting for me._ The realization made his heart swell and his palms sweat. The elevator crawled along, seemingly slower than normal, taunting him with each floor until finally, _finally_ the door slid open to the penthouse and his foyer appeared before him, the faint scent of cinnamon wafting past him.

_She lit her candle. _It made him stupidly happy.

The whistle of the tea kettle kept her from hearing the sound of the open door alert, her nerves all but shot as she dipped her tea bag into a big white mug, clucking her tongue when she saw the slight shake of her hand. _He should be home by now._

Just as the thought crossed her mind her hand froze in mid-dunk as the electric synapses between them came back to life, her body turning slowly to find him standing there not ten feet away, hair a mess from travelling, button down shirt open at the collar, five o'clock shadow shading his jaw in the sexiest way, eyes wild with desire.

_Ana. _Close enough to touch. His subconscious registered the tight fit of her long sleeved white t-shirt and the way her jeans molded to her hips but his conscious was on hyper alert, the agenda clear and direct. Ana. Naked. Underneath him. Around him. With him.

One dainty hand made its way to the column of her throat on reflex, the brush of fingers against that delicate expanse of skin enough to bring him to his knees. "Christian! I...I didn't hear you...you startled me..."

His name, God the way she said his name had his mind spinning and his motor running. He had her sandwiched between himself and the refrigerator in a nano-second, her sensual curves bending to his body so perfectly it made his mouth water. _Made for me._ His lips covered hers on a gasp when he lifted her legs around his waist, his tongue tasting what he'd been imagining for a week, his hands kneading her ass while his hips dug into her belly.

Behind him he felt her fingers tangle in his hair, the feeling foreign yet welcome. She tightened her arms when he took one step back and then two, his brain unable to form an argument when he turned right down the hall instead of going left towards the stairs. _My room's closer,_ he reasoned as he kicked the door shut behind him, his strides sure and steady as he made his way to the oversized bed.

He didn't stop to think about what he was doing when he set her on her feet and lifted the shirt off of her. He didn't think about the message he was sending when he dropped to his knees and kissed the satin skin of her stomach as he pulled her jeans off. He didn't think about restraining her when her hands gripped his hair as he pushed her panties aside and slid his tongue through folds of skin slick with want for him. Not once did the picture Jose had taken of her hanging across from them cross his mind when he tossed her onto the bed and stripped off his clothes.

She'd never seen him like this. Wild and hurried, desperate and rushed. He'd yet to say a word but she knew exactly what he wanted. His room, cavernous and airy became the size of the bed beneath her. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed.

Long fingers hooked into the sides of her lace panties only long enough to tear them off, her own hands fumbling to unhook the bra that was the last barrier between them.

Her breasts spilled out just as he raised the torn red lace to his nose and inhaled, the scent of her sex and desire for him making his cock jerk and lengthen as it sought out her heat. He looked at her then, saw the same frenzy in her that was swirling though him and spread her thighs wide, spearing into tight bliss until he was seated deep.

"Fuck, Ana," he exhaled, his head falling back as he absorbed the pleasure. _So good. One week yet it feels like a year._ Laid out before him she whimpered and moved her hips for the friction she was dying for but he gripped the flare of her waist and held her still. "Don't move, baby. Not yet."

She saw it then, the tic in his jaw and the long slow breath that betrayed his fight for control. With her inner muscles she squeezed him, his head falling forward on a groan. She did it again, his hips flexing forward on instinct. One more time she clenched down, felt the hard shaft of his cock filling her and pulsing inside her and watched as he gave up the fight. With a sigh he fell forward, his hands holding her face still so that he could kiss her mouth while he fucked her with long smooth strokes that woke up every nerve from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

_So close…too close...too soon._ He wouldn't last long enough at this rate... The air sent a shiver down his spine when he pulled out his wet dick and slid down her body, lifting her hips so that he could taste the very essence of her.

"Christian," she moaned, those fingers finding his hair again and pulling with each flick of his tongue and nip of his teeth. "Please," she whined, her body pouring out the evidence of her lust. He drank with eager abandon, covered his mouth and chin with her and held her firm when she came with a shudder against his lips.

"Now," he growled as he slammed back in. "_Now_ I can fuck you."

Her legs burned as he stretched them above her head, his hands gripping the back of her knees tighter with each thrust that dragged him closer and closer to his goal.

She could feel it, the swelling of his cock and the vulnerability that always preceded his orgasms. He was so beautiful like this; muscles bunched and tense, skin slick with sweat, face awash in selfish desire. "Cum for me, Christian, please cum inside me," she begged, the words falling out before she could stop them.

"You want it, baby?" he grunted, his hips pistoning against hers faster and faster.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouted, the sound drowned out with the roar of her name as it flew from his mouth. Inside he throbbed, jerked forward deep and emptied for what felt like hours while Ana milked him, each clench of hers causing him to grunt and tremble until finally he'd fallen prostrate on top of her, the feel of his bare chest against hers forcing her to stop her torment and enjoy this rare moment of total vulnerability.

She'd told him to cum, in his own bed, and he'd done it. He'd analyze that later once his spine was working again and his body had stopped twitching but for now he'd bask with her in the release they'd been denied. Tiny hands came to rest on the top of his shoulders in a bid to move him, the brief flash of panic that shot through him edged out by the endorphins flowing through his veins so that he only half cared about it. Without a word of rebuke he rolled to his back next to her, moving only enough to pull the blanket over them.

_God damn I needed that with her._ He hazarded a glance her way and met her smile with one of his own. _Looks like she needed that too._ He felt like a king.

Minutes ticked by as she focused on the rise and fall of his chest as the room grew darker until all she could see was the outline of furniture and the soft glow of the bathrooms night light but still she stared at him, his lashes impossibly long in the shadow of the moon.

She was in his bed. _Had he planned it? Had he realized it? What did it mean? Did it mean anything?_

"That was one hell of a welcome home, Ana," he said with a chuckle and a low male whistle. "I could get used to that you know," he joked.

_I hope you do,_ she thought. Her hand reached across the small space between them and found his, one finger hooking onto his pinky like an anchor in choppy waters. For a few seconds he hesitated but she was soft and sweet and somehow so innocent he couldn't find a reason not to give her what she wanted. He rolled to his side and kissed her fingers one by one before dropping their entwined hands back to the space between them.

The intimacy was crushing her. She had let this man fuck her more times than she could count in more ways that she could remember but it was the gentle squeeze of his fingers between hers that had her heart screaming for its mate. There was no fight left in her, no wall he hadn't inadvertently turned to dust. She wanted more with him just like the rest of them had.

Had it been like this for them? The drawn out battle only to succumb at the end and hope he didn't notice? Something was better than nothing, right? His attention was better than his absence. His involvement better than is denial. _I am so in over my head. I have fallen for a man who gets rid of anyone who falls for him. Dominick would love this brutal twist of irony._

The minutes ticked by until their breathing was slow and their thoughts were clear. Where she was a ball of anxiety, he was as content as he'd ever been. Where she was thinking, he was blissfully blank. Where she was analyzing, he was just being.

"I'll go to my room," she finally said softly, her shoulders lifting slightly only to be pushed back into the mattress when he suddenly rose above her.

"No, you won't." There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to let her out of this bed. "I'm not nearly finished with you and this is exactly where I want to be right now." He kissed her long and slow then until her fingers found their way back into his hair, the slight tugging matching the grind of her hips against his until he grinned in the darkness and flipped onto his back bringing her with him.

"Oh!" she giggled until his hand came down hard on the cheek of her ass with the sting she'd been missing all week. "Oh," she moaned, his lips curving into a smile against hers. His girl wanted to _feel_ this time around.

"Ride me, Ana. Brace your hands on the headboard so I can suck on these pretty little nipples I've been thinking about for days now and slide that tight pussy of yours onto my cock."

The mixture of his cum and her juices spilled out of her and onto his belly but neither of them cared when his mouth began to suckle and her sex split over his. Twice her hands came down to brace herself and twice he grabbed them before she made contact. The faster she went the harder he sucked until the fire he'd started on her breasts connected with the burn between her legs.

He felt the tightening of her channel and the tension running through, felt the prize of liquid heat covering his balls and the sheets beneath him. Each convulsion of her body on top of his propelled him closer to his own end but he held on until she was spent only to bring her hands behind the small of her back so that she fell forward onto him.

Sharp teeth scratched at his neck when he began to fuck her with harsh quick strokes from below, the heat of her breath and the sound of her pants so close to his ear enough to yank the cum right out of his balls.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" was all he could manage, his voice hoarse and needy with each rope that shot out of him. Behind her back his hands dug into her wrists until he let go to cup her ass, the jerks and tremors of his frame slowly giving way to stillness and peace. _It has never been this good with anyone. Not even close._

Carefully Ana sat up and swung her leg over, giggling when Christian jumped as more of their combined cream fell onto him.

"We are a fucking disaster, baby." They looked down and smiled knowingly at each other until Christian sat up and lifted her around him. In a few quick strides he'd made his way to the bathroom and into the enormous stone shower. With nothing more than the push of a button water began to come at them from every angle, his laugh an answer to her squeal of surprise.

With calm relief he never knew existed he watched her lather her long hair, the hypnotic sway of her breasts as she scrubbed the most alluring sight he'd ever witnessed. He hesitated for a brief moment when she reached her small hands up to his own hair but relented and bowed his head forward when she gave him a pleading look.

"That feels good, Ana," he managed to get out after a minute. Nobody had ever touched him this way. Even at four his fear of being touched had been so great that he'd bathed himself with Grace overseeing everything from a few feet away. Subs had tried to engage him when they felt they could get away with it but he'd always stopped it before it had ever really started. Touching was something _he_ did. Not something that was done _to_ him.

But this tenderness, this gentle, benign, soothing display of affection was too good to deny. They'd rinsed together under the hot stream and then he'd again watched as she worked in conditioner first in her hair and then in his.

She stood close, the slippery feel of her breasts brushing against his arm distracting him and distorting his thoughts until both hands slid up her ribs and cupped her, his thumbs mindlessly caressing the silken skin of her areolas.

"I missed you," he sighed, immediately feeling the vulnerable panic bursting through his stomach and chest. Her lashes fluttered, heavy and dark from the shower and he swore he felt her heart skip just as the blush began to rise over her neck.

"I'm glad," she whispered, looking up at him with as much boldness as she could muster. "I missed you too. A week is a long time."

"Not always," he answered, "but this week was."

She'd take it. She'd take anything so long as he was the one doling it out.

"You must be so tired. I was going to make you something to eat but you kind of interrupted my scouting mission."

He laughed and shut the water off, rubbing her down with the fluffiest white towel she'd ever laid eyes on.

"I was _starving_ but you took care of that twice already. As to food, I ate on the plane but if you're hungry we can eat something."

But the truth was she was afraid to leave this room even to get the cup of tea she was sure was ice cold by now. If she left, he may not ask her back in and that was a risk she was not willing to take no matter how empty her belly felt.

"I'm good. Just a little tired. My parents didn't leave until close to four and then I had to cover a shift at the Boys and Girls Club and they were understaffed which means the kids were out of control. I'm pretty sure I heard Sawyer tell a kid he was going to kick his scrawny ass if he didn't start obeying what I said." She grinned, shrugged that feminine shoulder with a small snort and closed her eyes. "Actually, I'm really tired."

"Well then, let's get you to bed," he said as he handed her a new toothbrush straight out of the package.

Her heart skipped another beat, her hands fighting the slight shake she felt. When she was finished he walked, naked as a jaybird, back into the room and ushered her between the sheets before getting in himself.

_Holy shit! Does he realize we're in his bed? Does he care? What does this mean? Should I say something? No! Do not say a word, just play it cool._

"You had a good visit with your parents?" She was tired, he knew this. But he'd missed these little conversations with her that anchored him to a world he'd never before felt a part of.

"I did. They were appreciative of all of the ways you took care of things for our weekend. I am too," she rushed. "Appreciative. It was so nice of you to think of everything."

"It was truly my pleasure. But next time I have to go to Mexico City, you're coming with me. That place was unbearable. I swear, Ana, if I had to stay ten more minutes I would have fired someone. Beautiful country, beautiful culture, beautiful people. All overshadowed by their fucked up government."

"Yes," she said, lying on her side to rest her head in her hand. "About those beautiful people. Who exactly is this Gizzy person you mentioned? And what's up with the G cup reference?"

He laughed fully, his leg touching the wet spot they'd left behind from earlier. She was on his sheets and in his bed. He loved it.

"She's the over aggressive CFO for the company I'm acquiring. Ros, my second in command, thinks she's a G cup, hence the nickname."

Hot jealousy spiked through her at the thought of this woman near Christian. "Was she pretty?"

"She was. But she tried too hard to be. Like that Kardashian woman who's always in the news for nothing."

His honesty was refreshing if not maddening.

"She wanted you?" She shouldn't, she knew it was way over the line to go there but she had to. It had been eating at her for days, each reference, annoyed as Christian had sounded, fueling her need to know about this woman.

_She's jealous._ He tried to hide the satisfied smile that fought for purchase on his face. _Seems I'm not the only one with the issue after all._

"She did and she made that clear from the beginning but she's not anyone I'd ever be interested in to begin with. And to end with, I had _you_ waiting for me and now I've got you here in my bed." His finger touched the tip of her nose, a move so out of character for him that she blinked in surprise.

"And you're ok with that? Me? In your bed?"

"Other than the wet spot I keep landing in, this is exactly where I want to be and you are exactly who I want to be here with. So yes. I'm ok with it. Now," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips before turning her around and pulling her back flush against him, "you're tired, I'm tired and we've both got work tomorrow. And tomorrow night," he nipped her lobe and soothed it with a kiss. "I'll be utilizing that playroom with gusto."

Hours later he woke at the tail end of a dream. Not a nightmare but a dream, something he'd not had in years. He had no recollection of the events, no recollection of the people involved. All he could remember was the feeling.

Happiness. He had felt happy.

Next to him Ana stirred, her hair still damp against his arm where her head rested. The blankets withheld the treasure of her body from him but he knew the dips and curves well enough to picture it anyway. He'd missed her terribly. More than he should have, more than he'd ever missed anyone ever in his entire life.

_How had this happened?_ he wondered in the dark stillness. _All those safeguards, all those rules and regulations, all those boundaries. What good are they if I just ignore them?_

Instinctively his hand moved over her hip. Up and down, up and down, up and down. So soft, so feminine, so sexy. _How do I stop this now? How do we go back to what we're supposed to be? How could that ever be enough again?_

Over and over his hand moved while his mind raced. He could juggle a thousand balls in the air and not drop one. Without breaking a sweat he could suss out the finer details of a business deal better than anyone else. He could manage the suffocating needs of his family, the annoying emotions of his submissives and the politics of running a corporation. He had successfully managed to live in a world where emotions, feelings and connections were a thing of myth and a sign of weakness.

But he could not escape the overwhelming confusion and feelings this tiny woman imparted upon him. Logic and determination weren't helping him to win the battle that seemed to rage whenever he thought of Ana no matter how hard he dug in his heels. How do you fight something you don't _really_ want to beat? How do you win when winning means ultimately losing what you've always known? What's always been comfortable? What's always worked? How could someone like Christian Grey reconcile that losing, when it came to love, was actually the greatest win?

The pressure built, the anxiety of it all lodging in his throat until he couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow, couldn't stand lying there for one more second. Ana didn't shift when he moved his arm and rose out of the bed. She didn't see him walk naked to the window to lean against it, shivering at the cool glass when it touched his skin. She didn't see him turn and prowl back to her, stand at the bottom of the bed and contemplate just exactly what it was he wanted. Lost in blissful slumber she was completely unaware of the war raging around her.

His hands balled, his jaw set firm. He felt each muscle of his back as he stood in the chilled air and watched her sleep until he knew exactly how many seconds each breath took her. She had to go. She shouldn't be here, shouldn't be sleeping so peacefully in the very spot he himself had always slept in. Ana, in his bed, was a representation of everything wrong in his handling of their arrangement. One knee dropped to the mattress, determination to carry her to her room fueling the fearful anger swirling inside of him.

The movement stirred her, his body freezing as she moved to her stomach and lifted her hands up around her head, his name a sigh that fell effortlessly from her lips, the sound so light he thought he'd made it up. But his heart knew better and without thinking he slid up the length of her naked body and wrapped his hands around hers. She'd called for him. He'd dissect his feelings in the morning but right now, none of it seemed all that important anyway. Not when her throat hummed his name again, not when her fingers tightened around his, not when the scent of his shampoo was on her hair.

"Mmmm," she sighed dreamily, the corner of her mouth rising at the feel of him hard against her back. _Always ready,_ she thought, her legs opening on their own accord.

His fear fled, his anxiety evaporated. There was nothing but him and her. Christian and Ana. Man and woman. Longing and completion.

He kissed the back of her neck, her shoulders, the sensitive spot where her hair began and shifted his hips down over the curve of her ass. With the fluidity of a man who knows his woman's body he found her entrance and breached it, pushing up until he could go no further. She was slippery from their earlier encounters, hot and wet and so perfectly swollen that he bit down to contain the groan that threatened to bubble out.

With the slowest of strokes he fucked her, long and deep, desperate and wanting. Tighter and tighter his hands gripped hers as the pleasure grew, the desire to meld into one driving him to the point of oblivion. He was losing his mind one stroke at a time.

"I want you so much, Ana," he moaned in a moment of rare weakness but he didn't care. He had to say it, had to get it out before the words ripped his chest apart. "So," he thrust, "fucking," another, "much."

She raised her hips just enough to feel his balls against her clit and lost herself in the safety of his arms. His breath hot against her back, his hands anchoring her to a place she'd never known could exist until this moment. He was everywhere all at once.

"More," she begged. For his fucking? For his words? For what she didn't know. She just _wanted_.

"More?" he said on a growl. "You want more, Ana?" His hips moved faster, his body sliding along hers as their sweat mixed. "I'll give you more, baby. I'll give you anything you want."

She cried out and spasmed around him, his cock swelling until she'd had her fill and only then did he let himself go. With a loving anger he couldn't understand he pressed his open mouth to her shoulder and spilled into her, the feeling so intense, so overwhelming that it knocked the wind right out of him.

Her hand untangled from his and pushed the hair off of her face, reaching back to tenderly touch his cheek where it rested on her head.

"Christian?" she whispered, breathless, exhausted, happy.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you're home."

_Home._ His plane had landed hours ago and he'd been in his own bed for half the night but this, _this_ was the first time he really felt the weight of that word. Yes. He was home and it wasn't because these walls were his or these sheets knew him. It was because Ana was here.

The realization strangled him silent.

Without disengaging their most intimate of joining he rolled to his side and brought her with him, his arms resuming their protective wrap around her body. He didn't give a fuck that they were sticky or that there was a new wet spot beneath them. He didn't care that her hair was tickling his nose or that her hands had wrapped around his again.

He cared about one thing. She was here, she was his, and he was home.

* * *

She'd woken while it was still dark out and had watched him sleep for a few brief seconds before the familiar feeling of the unknown shadowed her.

_What had last night meant?_ Was it just two people acting out the hormones that had built up for seven days or had it meant something more? Why his bed? Why had he put her toothbrush in the holder and not in the garbage can? Did he expect her to sleep in here now? Should she be here when he woke or should she go to her room? What color were the walls in here? What was the artwork that he'd hung in his private sanctuary? Who was this man who spoke of boundaries with such resolve yet blew hers to bits?

Frustrated she slunk out of the incredibly comfortable bed and padded her way silently to the very same spot by the window he'd stood at only a few hours before. She was in too deep. Felt too many things that scared her and challenged her and made her want the very things she had promised not to pursue with Christian Grey. A relationship.

_I want him. All of him. There, I said it. I want him to feel for me the way I feel for him. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!_

Anger spurned her forward and to her room where she washed his semen away along with the scent of him that had settled over her skin. Little by little he was branding her and she, hard as she tried to stop it, she was powerless to do anything. _I'm just like the rest of them._

_Kate will know what to do,_ she thought, the brush pulling on her long mahogany hair with determination. _How do I get him to want more with me? Sex is not the problem, his heart is._ She chuffed and tossed the brush onto the counter turning in the steamy room towards the door. _And so is mine._

"Holy shit! Christian! You scared the living shit out of me!"

He stood there in nothing but a pair of navy blue boxer briefs leaning against the door frame, his hair messy and his eyes still tired.

"Why did you shower in here?"

"I…I wasn't sure what…I didn't want to wake you." It was lame and it was a lie and he knew it.

His head tipped forward, his brows raising in challenge.

"Fine! I didn't know what you wanted from me. I've never slept in your bed so I wasn't sure what you were thinking or what you wanted or, you know, if you wanted me there when you woke up."

He laughed and came to her, pulling the towel so that it fell to her feet.

_God she's gorgeous._ He wanted nothing more than to feel that damp skin of hers underneath him but she was skittish if not a bit cold and aloof right now.

"It's still dark out, Ana. Come back to bed at least until the sun is out."

"It's Washington. In January. There is no sun," she deadpanned.

"You're upset," he stated matter of factly.

"Not upset," she said quietly. "Just unsure as to what I should be doing."

_Shit. She's going to bolt if I keep acting like a love sick fool. Save this and save this now, Grey before it gets out of your control._

"Well, if you're not willing to come back to bed, let's get breakfast and talk about it."

Her heart soared.

"We need to renegotiate our contract anyway this week. Instead of Wednesday we'll do it today." _And then I'll know you're staying._

Her heart fell. Contract? He was thinking about their contract? _Do not be defeated, Ana Steele! A plan. I need time and a plan._

"I have to work until six but we can talk when I get back."

His gut flipped. _That gives her all day to think about leaving._

"Ana," he said, one finger tracing the fine line of her collar bone, "When you get home later I plan on fucking you until you're delirious. We'll talk now." His voice brokered no argument.

With a small nod she bowed her head. "Yes, Sir. I'll be right down."

She didn't see the way his brow crinkled at her behavior, didn't see the way his hand retreated to his side in confusion._ Sir? _He took a step back so she could get dressed and went to the door. _You did just tell her you wanted to renegotiate the contract, asshole._

Over a breakfast of omelets and orange juice the two of them attempted to navigate this new but yet unnamed thing between them. What it meant to be taken like that last night Ana didn't know. What it meant to _take_ like that, Christian had no idea. They both felt a little like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, each one of them grasping to hold on to something that anchored them to what they'd always known and away the overwhelming fear of a thousand possibilities.

When Gail had cleared the dishes away and had disappeared into the bedroom to start on her daily tasks Christian had stood and offered Ana his hand, the electric response whenever they touched causing his gaze to glance towards the heavens.

_So fucked, Grey. You are so mother fucking fucked. You better adjust those rules and quick because this is not going to go well for you if she isn't feeling the same thing._

He led her to his office and pointed her to a sumptuous leather wingback chair where she sat demurely and watched him open the safe to retrieve their current contract. He'd not yet showered but he had put on a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt, both doing little to hide the flexes and bulges of muscles so annoyingly covered. He was beautiful. Painfully, totally, unfairly beautiful.

With precise clicks on his keyboard he pulled up the version of the contract he'd updated on the plane, hoping against hope that she'd agree to it but knowing that it was a long shot. Reading it had left him with a nagging sense of dissatisfaction but he'd brushed it away, refusing to face the fact that his discontent was because ultimately he didn't _want_ a contract with her. He wanted something different entirely. He was just too much of a coward to acknowledge it.

"Ms. Steele," he began, steepling his fingers against his chin as he sat back to take her in. Jeans and a plain black button down shirt and she was simply the most stunning woman he'd ever seen without even trying. _So fucked._ "I'm hoping that you are interested in continuing with our agreement?" _Business as usual. Keep her in your life until you've figured this whole thing out. Stick with what you know, right?_

"I do," she answered quickly, her palms sweating while her toes silently curled under her. Wasn't it obvious?

"Good. As do I. I feel that we are an exceptional match both in the play room and out of it. Would you agree with that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I also feel that you understand my life, what I require, what I'm capable of and how to operate within those parameters. I also feel that I can provide you much needed safety, a sanctuary from the real world and encouragement to fulfill your desires as a musician and as a submissive. As such, I'd like to continue on with you with a few minor adjustments to the contract and then I'd like to revisit your hard limits as discussed in our first meeting."

_There he is._ The business man she'd so rarely had a glimpse of. He may be in pajamas but he could slay a room of executives with one look and a firm word. The air in the room, what was left of it anyway, became thick and hot and impossible to breath. In her chest her heart hammered out a dangerous rhythm. There was so much she should tell him, so many questions she wanted answered but the words just wouldn't come.

Reaching across the enormous desk he handed her a sheath of papers printed in black ink with the changes he wanted written in red awaiting her initials. _Even his handwriting is demonstrative and sexy._

"I made another change just now to the sleeping arrangements," Christian said casually as if this wasn't the biggest deal in the world to him. "As nice as the room upstairs is, I prefer my own bed and therefore feel as if that is where we should be spending the nights more often than not. There may be evenings where you'll want your own quarters," he swallowed the thought of her absence like a bitter pill, "and I understand that but in general, we will rest in my bedroom. I'll have Gail bring your personal belongings down today while you're at work."

She tried, she really did try to hide the smile that crept up her mouth but it was useless. Other than what he'd told her and the little Ms. Monroe had shared with her Ana had no real idea as to how his other submissives had been with him. But she _did_ know they'd never shared his bed and if she was wondering if last night had been a fluke, well he'd just put that question to bed. No pun intended of course.

"Yes, Sir."

_Good_. He'd not expected an argument but Ana had never really been one to be told what to do anyway and she'd fought just as hard as he had to keep those boundaries up so when she agreed so easily the tension he'd been carrying around lifted.

"I've added in sections pertaining to your personal security personnel, the request to have you accompany me on trips as you are available and the occasional public outing. As those are things that have been occurring for some time now, I don't anticipate you having any problem with the addition of them to our agreement. I should point out that along with Luke Sawyer, the woman who acted as your CPO over the weekend, Constance Prescott, will be added on full time pending your approval of her employment."

Briefly she glanced at the page and gave him a nod, initialing where he indicated next to each addendum as he placed another paper on the edge of his desk for her.

It was surreal, to go from the intensity of last night to the cut and dry wheeling and dealing of this morning. _Time, I need time to figure this out,_ he kept telling himself with every pass over her face. _I need to talk to John, figure my shit out and adjust accordingly but until then...until then I need this. I need to know she won't leave._

"Your hard limits, Ms. Steele. I would like all but the ones that line up with mine removed."

Internally she girded herself for an argument but externally she showed no emotion. None. He studied her face for any sign of agreement but found nothing but a passiveness that rivaled his own. _So, so fucked._

"I've thought about this, Mr. Grey. Knowing that this meeting was coming up and that I had agreed to discuss those limits with you has made me really evaluate them for a few weeks now." Her pen tapped on her knee. "I simply cannot abide to being hit in the face,"

"Anastasia. I have already told you that I would never do that anyway," he interrupted on an indignant huff. "It's a non-issue."

She nodded and continued on as if he'd not just rudely cut her off, the purposeful sigh that escaped her lips not at all lost on him.

"I'm not entirely comfortable with a gag but I do feel at this point that I can trust you and I _will_ trust you to use one appropriately and with the understanding that I don't want to be gagged but am doing it because you want it."

She bit her lip then, the gesture enough to trip start his heart and to warm his belly with affection. If it caused her fear, he'd never use it. What he wanted, ultimately, was her trust. _Besides,_ he thought, _I like the sounds she makes far too much to actually muffle them._

"Understood. You will remove the gag from your hard limits but prefer for it not to be used." It was a start. He wanted no limits between them at all and this was a big one in his book.

"Yes, thank you for understanding." _And I'm trusting you, Grey. More than anyone ever before you I'm trusting you._ "I will never allow you or anyone else to ejaculate on my face though."

He stifled his laugh and picked up a crystal paper weight, squeezing the hard glass in an effort to center himself.

"Why not?"

"I find it degrading. Plain and simple. My body, my mouth, all acceptable. My face? Off limits."

"I, for one, do not find it degrading,"

"You're not the one getting cum all over your face, Sir." His head cocked to the side in surprise of her outburst. "Sir. I'm sorry for interrupting." She could _feel_ her cheeks grow red.

"As I was saying. _I_ do not find it degrading but I would never want you to do something that you felt belittled or humiliated you. What I _do_ want, _badly_, is to fuck your ass."

_My God! The way he speaks about sex so blatantly unapologetic is both a turn on and shocking._

"Mr. Grey." She was nervous. He could see it in the way she scooted to the edge of her seat and the way her hands twisted in her lap. Ana Steele may get off on being tied up and flogged but she was a prude at heart.

_And there goes that damn sexy lip biting. _Prude or not, she sure knew how to use what the good Lord gave her to her full advantage.

"Anal sex remains under a hard limit. Eternally."

He was pissed. Pissed and confused and emotional and jet lagged.

"Has anyone ever taken you that way, Anastasia? One of your previous Doms? That boyfriend of yours?" The thought made his gut burn with possession.

"No." It was all she'd give him. She'd seen it, the way his lip rose in a snarl at being denied what he wanted. If Christian thought bullying her to get what he wanted was going to work, he'd grossly underestimated the woman in front of him. Resolve settled on her, the underlying calmness enough to make him want to lash out.

"Did someone hurt you there, Ana? Is that why you're so afraid of it? Because I can assure you, I know what I'm doing and I will _not_ hurt you. If anything it would be another way for me to bring you indescribable pleasure."

"No." _What do I say? Does he even deserve an explanation?_ "I have no interest in anal sex and will not partake in it. Like I said when we first did this, that has always been a deal breaker with some Doms and if it is with you I'll understand but it stays on my hard limits."

_Some Doms. But not the ones who took her on. Fuck I hate when she talks about other men!_ Jealousy reared its ugly head and sought to bite back and hurt, sought to show her what it felt like to be reminded that others had been there before him. He leaned back steepled those damn fingers again just as casual as you please when he lobbed the first strike.

"I've been told I'm quite good at it. An expert is what a few women have said if memory serves me correct. I'd like to show you so that you can find out first hand." He shrugged as if he were doing her a favor and reached down to pick at imaginary lint on the knee of his pants before his eyes met hers.

His intention had been to hurt and he'd succeeded. The mental image of him and other women in that position was enough to make her eyes burn with the want to cry but she'd _never_ give him that satisfaction so long as he had that smug look on his face.

"I'm glad for your previous lovers but the answer is no. This is my body despite what you have written on that contract. If you expect daggered comments and childish games to get you to your goal, you've chosen the wrong sub. If my refusal," she leaned forward and held his gaze, "changes your mind about continuing, then so be it."

Shock. It flashed across his face and settled in his gut. She may look all prim and proper and dainty and sweet but Anastasia Steele was not one to fuck with. Message received.

"It won't change my mind, Ana, stop being so dramatic." _You could tell me no more sex and I wouldn't terminate your contract._ He dropped his head back at the thought. He would give up sex for this girl. _So so so fucked._

Her neck snapped back with his rebuke_. Dramatic?_ If drama is what he wanted he wasn't going to get it. _I'd sooner walk out of here with my pride firmly in place before I'd let you see me get dramatic._

He was baiting her. She didn't know it and he didn't realize it but that's exactly what he was doing. Baiting her so that they could have an explosion of sorts. A true hashing out of the chaos that was brewing inside of him. His mom had called it 'itching for a fight' and that was exactly what he was doing. When she sat there, body tense but under her full control he poked again.

"Moving on," he said with an eye roll as if her refusal to allow his dick up her ass was some ridiculous notion that made her pathetic, he spit out the one thing he was sure would get her pissed. "I'd like you to sell your car."

Her eyes flew open wide at his audacity. He rose and walked to the front of his desk and leaned one hand on each arm of the chair she was in so that his face was only mere inches away.

"I know you drove it this weekend despite having a brand new, much nicer car at your disposal. I'd like to know why and then I'd like for you to sell it."

"My father was alarmed enough at the wealth you so generously showcased to us this weekend. To shove a car like that in front of him would have put him over the edge." Her voice was firm and strong and brokered no argument. Christian Grey was dead meat and he knew it. "Plus, you gave me the car as a gift but I already had a car. One I was attached to and one I am still attached to. Is it silly to be attached to an inanimate object? Yes, I concede that it is. But I am. It's mine and I'll drive it if I want to." With a deep breath she rushed on before he could stop her.

"_However_, since you were so kind as to get me a car of your choosing and one I admit is lovely and that I am quite fond of, I will drive your car unless my parents are in town in which case I will use the Saab."

_The one your ex-Dom gave to you?_ He wanted to shout. "One, it is _your_ car, not mine. And two, you were given the Saab by another man. You are mine now and I do not want you driving in a car given to you by another man!" He'd tried not to yell but he'd been unsuccessful.

"Should I be angry about the, what was it, _15_ other women who are driving around in cars given to them by you?" she smirked, crossed her arms and sat back with a huff. "Ones I'm sure were much more accommodating when it came to where you were allowed to fuck them?" It was a low blow but he'd earned it.

He saw it then, the hurt and humiliation he'd just tossed at her so spectacularly thrown right back in his face without so much as a blink._ Shit._ His inability to categorize his feelings, to even acknowledge his feelings had made him strike out in a manner completely foreign to him. And Ana had been the unfortunate recipient.

"This is not how I had planned for this to go, Anastasia," he said, stepping back and running his hands through his hair. "My intention was not to upset you or to force you into something you weren't ready for." Not an apology but then again, with Christian, it never was. "I don't particularly enjoy staring my day off with an argument."

Neither did she. Her hard limits, the amendments to the contract, all of that was secondary to what the real issue here was. Despite her promises to the contrary, there was a third person in this arrangement of theirs. Why Dominick bothered Christian so much she didn't know but he clearly did, the evidence on display right in front of her.

"My arrangement with him ended long before we met. I have already stated that I will drive the Audi and I will." She stood and went to Christian where he leaned against the desk. She wanted so badly to reach out and run her hands over his chest, wanted so much to pull him to her and kiss him where she could see his heart beating at the base of his throat. "I love the car, Christian, I do. I just thought it might have been a bit much to spring on my dad when he was already on edge about everything else."

"Why? Why would he care that I bought you a car?" His voice had lost its hard edge but he hadn't let go of the anger that had welled inside of him so easily.

"Well," she started, walking back to the chair but not sitting in it. "He doesn't know you. To him you're this super rich, super powerful, super mysterious man who is lavishing his only daughter with gifts and experiences. It freaks him out because he doesn't know you and yet you have such a huge presence in my life. I know my dad. He's afraid you're trying to control me. To drive a car that expensive along with everything else would have put him right into uber-protection mode."

And that was the Gods honest truth. She'd caught tidbits of her father's comments to her mom and she'd known all about the conversation he'd had with Sawyer in the hallway. She didn't need to know the details to know it had everything to do with just how much this man was influencing his baby girl and if a box of cigars and a bouquet of flowers had him on high alert, a brand new car would have had him calling his buddies and putting on his camo. She knew better.

"Are you saying that if I met your father and put his mind at ease, that you'd drive my car and not his?" _His. Can't even use the douchebags name since I don't fucking know it!_

Ana blinked once, then twice, then a third time before quietly and carefully nodding her head. "I guess. I'm not asking you to meet him…I realize that's way past the restrictions of this contract."

He studied her carefully. Saw the way her cheeks were flushed with anger and resolve, saw the way her toes kept curling and her fingers kept twisting. "Well, you've met my parents and we'll be dining with them next week. We've been seen in public together and the assumption is that we're a couple so I don't see the harm in sharing a meal with the man."_ Especially if it will get you to give up that god damned car._

_Holy mother of God._

"Has he met any of your other…_boys_?"

At that Ana laughed and went to him, taking his hands in hers as if it were the most normal thing in the world. His breath caught and his own toes curled on reflex.

"He knows Paul, my first boyfriend and he dropped by one time unannounced to my work and," she stopped and swallowed hard but he'd asked, "my last Dom was there to drop off a tea for me so he met him briefly under the guise of him being a student. Other than that, no."

So this man had shaken hands with her father. Had visited her at work. Had clearly been a part of her world in a different context. It was totally unacceptable.

"I want to meet him then. Put his mind at rest. We can play the part." _And I can cancel out one more thing you had with this other guy and no one else._ "Now," his hands left hers and curled around her neck and chin so that he could kiss her, "are we finished here?"

She grinned and lifted one dainty shoulder. "I don't you. You're the one who wanted to talk at seven in the morning."

"That I did. And look how much we accomplished already. But there is one more thing on my list before you leave." He stood back and pointed at her. "Strip."

"Strip?"

"Yes. This," he picked up a piece of paper with disdain and let it flutter back down to the desk, "is finished." He pulled back, crossed his arms over his chest and looked her over in a way that had her toes curling for entirely different reasons. "Don't make me say it again, Anastasia."

She didn't dare tell him that she needed to leave for work. This was his Dom voice and damn it if it didn't make her wet in places that should have been fully dried out after last night. As she took off her clothes he took the old contract and the new one and spread the pages over his desk, walking behind it and taking out his cock.

"Climb up, get on your back and suck me."

She did, gagging on him when he pushed deep. "We need to work on your deep throating, baby," he said before he bent over and spread her wide to tongue fuck her.

After she had cum he fucked her mouth, both hands holding her head while her body writhed on those sheets of paper that bound her to him.

"Mine," he grunted, falling forward when bliss took him past the point of no return. His balls drew up tight, his spine too weak to hold him upright as the pleasure shot through him. She swallowed and he said it again, "Mine!" the sight of that contract underneath her infuriating him the same way it calmed him. _You are so fucked up in the head, Grey. So incredibly messed up._

"What was it I said to you that first night, Ana?" he asked when he'd pulled free of her mouth and had rested his head next to her hip. She raised one weak hand in a motion that said, 'I don't know' and then let it drop._ I love that I can make her feel that way._ "I said to you, 'Fuck the paperwork'. Do you remember?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well, baby. We just did. Literally."

* * *

**Authors note: Yes I want you frustrated. No Ana didn't notice her picture yet. No, there is not going to be babies in this story.**


	18. Chapter 18

"So…you're sleeping in his room now. And this is a big deal because…?" Kate sat, wine glass filled with beer of all things and blew on Ana's toes. "This is the sexiest shade of purple I have ever seen. It's like, goth with glam. He'll want a foot job when he sees it."

"A foot job?" Ana repeated, brushing on a top coat over each finger nail.

"You know, a hand job but with your feet."

"Uh, no, I don't know." Ana lifted her feet and mimicked what had to be the actual act but grew tired after a few seconds and fell back into a heap of giggles. "I don't do nearly enough exercises to be able to do that."

"Too long?"

"What?"

"His dick. Too long?"

"Katherine Ann Kavanagh! I am _not_ talking to you about his dick! It's enough that he's letting me talk to you about him at all!" Ana grinned, sipped her water and winked. "Though I'd need a much bigger foot to take care of him if you know what I mean!"

The two girls, grown women really, giggled like school girls discussing their first kiss. Kate was riding high from a weekend with a married couple that had her playing the center of attention for two straight days while Ana still had yet to come down from the four days she'd spent at Escala with Christian.

After an admittedly rocky start to their Monday he'd driven her to work himself and then had picked her up after blessing his own office with his presence for the day. Back at his apartment they'd had a hearty dinner and had retreated to the play room where Christian had shown her just how much he'd been fantasizing and planning while they'd been apart.

When he'd finally closed their session she'd cleaned up the toys and wiped down the wedge while he watched before making her way to her old room on habit. With a half laugh he'd picked her up over his shoulder, both of them naked and chilled and had walked her right into his shower and then into his bed. The lights behind his bed were on, the illumination just enough for her to see the picture of herself hanging directly across from his bed.

"My photo..." she said with a gasp to which he just chuckled and pulled the blanket over their laps.

"I had it hung there as soon as I got it. I like looking at you," he shrugged, his body heating to what he could only assume was a blush.

"Oh. So...you've had this in here the entire time I've been with you?" Her heart hurt, actually ached with hope and contentment and want. _Did he hang up pictures of his other submissives? What did this mean?_

"Well, since the boy's show, yes." He glanced her way, saw teeth worrying that plump bottom lip and the way her eyes were wide with wonder and knew exactly what was going on in her head. "No, Ana. I've never had a picture of anyone else in this room or in this apartment for that matter. You're the first." His worry over her made any embarrassment he felt fade into nothing, the upturn of her lips making him insanely happy.

"The first?" That _had_ to mean something, right?

"The first." _And hopefully the last. _

She'd wanted to press for more but knew better than to ask so instead she leaned into him and kissed his cheek before resting her head on the pillow where she fallen asleep to the tapping of Christian on his laptop.

Tuesday he'd had a late night meeting but he'd requested that she be available to him when he got back and she was, in nothing more than the lacy pair of panties he'd left on his bed for her. On Wednesday he dropped her off with Claude, taking a few minutes of his coveted time to get a good idea as to where Ana was at physically before kissing her on the cheek, in front of the trainer, and heading off to work.

That night he'd met her at Escala for their scheduled night, dismissing Sawyer with nothing more than a nod before blindfolding her and leading her to the kitchen table.

"I don't know about this," she'd said pensively when Christian refused to tell her what they'd be eating, only that he'd be the one feeding her.

He was taking Flynn's advise and was doing anything and everything he could to gain her trust. He wanted to know her secrets, wanted to know what had happened to her, who had done it, and what had been done about it. He wanted to know who this man was that had loved her and just what had happened between them but more than anything, he wanted her to trust him so fully, so entirely that she was dependent on him.

Flynn had advised against that being the end goal but Christian had brushed him off in his usual business manner. John didn't get it. _If Ana depends on me, she won't leave me. _He'd dismissed most of what the psychiatrist had said, tuning in only when Flynn had made an astute observation that even Christian had to concede left little argument.

"So, you have a contract still and in that contract you have given her unfettered access to your home, you have requested more of her free time, that she sleep in your bed, that you participate in all manners of intercourse including vanilla, that she accompany you to family events and social events and that she accept gifts from you." He'd held the pencil up to his temple and looked down his nose at the copper headed man scratching the top of his head.

"To summarize, yes." _Why do I do this to myself?_ Christian reached for a mint, noticed John's smirk and threw it back into the bowl.

"So, in essence, you have had her sign a contract to being your girlfriend." He ignored the wide gray eyes that looked back at him and plowed ahead, encouraged when Christian reached his entire hand into the candy bowl this time. "Hear me out. Traditional couples participate in kinky sex all the time. So that's not even separating what you have asked of Anastasia from a large amount of relationships. I get that you need a contract to feel secure but you do realize this arrangement you have is a boyfriend/girlfriend one, right?" He chuffed and tossed the yellow legal pad onto the table. "For a man who never makes a joke, you sure are a funny guy."

Christian had shoved three of the round peppermints into his mouth and had walked out without a word, Flynn's low chuckle behind him so irritating that he flipped the older man the middle finger before slamming his door shut.

He'd ignored everything John had said except for the part about earning her trust outside of the bedroom. How he was supposed to do that he had no clue but as he ate his lunch, an idea began to form. It had seemed stupid at first but while he fed her the lamb and stuffed grape leaves, her lips closing over each bite with unedited sexuality he suddenly felt like a genius. When she'd had her fill and begged him to stop he did, removing her blindfold and watching as her blue eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the kitchen before leading her wordlessly up the stairs to where he'd set up the video camera.

"If being in Mexico for one week proved anything, it was that your digital presence was seriously lacking. Skype doesn't cut it," he said seductively, one finger trailing along the blade of her bare shoulder, his lips searing her skin when he softly kissed the column of her neck. "I leave for New York next Thursday for a few days and I want something I can bring with me." _So get naked and get ready._

"You don't have other videos you can bring?" she'd teased in the sick hope of finding out if he'd done this with other subs of his. _A true masochist,_ she berated to herself.

"I do but I'm not interested in those. I'm only interested in you and me and what we do together." Her heart tumbled just as his head snapped up. "Have you ever been videotaped, Anastasia?"

She had not. With two slow head shakes of hers, his grin turned downright salacious. It made him immensely pleased that no one had proof of their time with her.

"Good. On the bed, face down, ankles in the cuffs."

He'd taken her in every position, first harsh and then soft, stopping only to readjust the angle of the camera. After an hour or so she'd forgotten about the blinking red light and had let herself go, had let him lead her pleasure and her pain until he'd collapsed on top of her back, his bare chest heaving from the exertion of one last hard, fast fuck.

Later that night he'd woken to find her sitting in the bed, the moonlight falling over her bare shoulders while she mindlessly twirled her hair.

"Ana?"

"Did I wake you?" she whispered, sliding down next to him and running her nails over his scalp.

He'd never get used to how good it felt to just be touched like that. For someone to fearlessly reach out and connect with him for no other reason than that they wanted to feel his skin.

"Is something bothering you?" His voice was husky with sleep and filled with concern.

"No," was her hesitant answer but it wasn't the truth. The truth was those videos he'd admitted to, the ones of him and other women, they were eating her alive.

"The truth, Ana. It's me. I always want the truth with you." _Trust me, baby._

She studied him in the dark, his features only shadows. "I try not to get upset that you've had other women here and I do an ok job of it I think." She paused, allowed him to prop himself on one hand as worry creased his brow.

"You do," he conceded, not having ever thought about it. _She cared about the other subs before her?_

"Thank you," her manners had her saying. "You said you had videos of some of them...with you, and, well, the idea of that, of those tapes being in this place with me here just…I don't know…it feels gross." _Jealous, Ana. It makes you feel jealous. Just say it!_

He chuckled. "Gross?"

"Yes. Gross." She shifted and sat on her knees so that her breasts swayed in his face. "Do you ever watch them?"

"Not since I met you, no. And not for a while before that actually." _Should I tell her about the pictures in the safe as well? Probably not a good idea right now._ "Ana," he said, pulling her close and sucking on her nipple. "They're nothing but insurance. An NDA is good, a clean break is good," he moved to the other breast. "But knowing there's a sex tape of you doing things you definitely don't want your parents knowing about?" He laid her down and pushed her breasts together, sucking on both nipples simutaneiously. "It's the best insurance policy around."

"Is that what you did tonight? Took out an insurance policy on me?" He heard the break in her voice, felt the flash of emotion that accompanied it and lifted his mouth to hers.

"No. What we did was make an incredibly sexy tape that I will take with me to New York and will use to masturbate to since your perfect," he moved back down and licked each pink tip, "tight," one finger slipped inside, "tasty little body," his tongue circled her navel, "won't be available to me."

She groaned when he licked between the lips of her sex and held his head in place as he sucked on her clit, his finger finding her g-spot easily.

"I don't need insurance with you, baby." His finger curled and rubbed until she was lost in a sensation so overwhelming she was sure she'd die from it. "I just need to see you when I want to see you and taste you when I want to taste you and fuck you when I want to fuck you. And if I can't do that," his tongue assaulted her clit with quick flicks that mimicked the pumping of his finger, "then I want to watch me fuck you. Now cum for me, Anastasia."

It took another few sucks of his lips, a small bite to the top of her sex and a come-hither motion with that devastating finger but she came with a scream and a thrash that had her gripping the sheet until her nail broke. He rode it out with one arm clasped firmly over her belly as her cream covered his face, her thighs squeezing his head until finally they fell open in blissful exhaustion.

_That should get her to sleep,_ he chuckled, wiping his face with the back of his hand and turning her back to him.

"You," she grunted, her body still jerking with the occasional aftershock. "What about you?" She should return the favor but her body just wouldn't cooperate right now.

"I'm fine," he said into her ear, kissing the shell with such tenderness she whimpered. "Go to sleep, sweet girl."

In the morning he'd been gone, an early breakfast meeting with a large exporter leaving her in his huge bed alone. On the floor she found her jagged nail and couldn't help the embarrassed laugh that burst out of her. He'd shut her up all right...

"You should put a fake nail on that finger," Kate murmured as she placed one more swipe of color on her own nails, the sound of her raspy voice putting an end to the replay of the last few days. "You look like a cheap hooker from Spokane between your torn nails and those damn calluses you get from playing so much."

"I need your help, Kate." _I'll just lay it out there. She already knows anyway so what's the harm?_

"Lay it on me, Anabanana. What do you need?"

"I need him to like me. Like a girlfriend. I want him to like me the way I like him." She shifted in her seat, the heat from her admission making her stomach queasy. "I want more with him."

Kate burst out laughing, held one side of her belly and flung herself back onto the couch. "Oh my God, Ana! He _does_ like you like that you silly girl! He is out of his mind for you! Oh my goodness you're funny. You don't need to _do_ anything, you just need to tell him how you feel and let him tell you how he feels and then get married, hire me to be your assistant and live happily ever after."

"Kate," Ana chided, her face ablaze by her admission and the response she was getting. _Did Christian really feel that way as well?_ How could Kate know anyway? It wasn't like she had even seen them together or anything.

"Oh come on, Ana. We've had this talk. Just be yourself. You are insanely likeable. But if you think this could be a long term thing or, who knows, a forever thing, then you need to let him in. He cares about you, that much is obvious by the pictures that posted and the gifts he showers on you and the way I hear him talking to you on the phone each night. But if you want him to really love you for you and not because there's some stupid contract between you, then you need to show him all of you. Good, bad and ugly."

The thought crippled her. It wasn't that she feared his reaction though she was pretty sure he'd be after blood that had long since been shed. It was that she'd have to verbalize those things that she'd hidden so deeply but yet still managed to sneak up on her and strangle her without warning.

"I don't know, Kate. That seems…I don't know."

"Ana." Kate stood and planted herself firmly in the line of sight of her timid friend. "You are not the sum of someone else's perversion. You are affected but not defeated. You are aware but not afraid. You fight and do not flounder. _Tell him_."

It took an entire episode of Mad Men and a few good pulls from the Fireball Whiskey they kept for parties before Ana could speak again. Say what you want about Kate Kavanagh but that girl told it like it was no matter what the subject was.

"I don't know what to say to him." She looked down and twisted her hands in her lap. "I don't know how you talk about something like that."

Kate took in a deep breath and rested her blond curls against Ana's mahogany tresses. "You'll figure it out when the time comes, Ana. You will. But it's time, sweetie. It's time to own it and move past it once and for all."

* * *

"She's a class A bitch but she's the key to his brain and his brain is the key to the deal and the deal is the key to about twenty million dollars in profit so as much as I hate to spring this on you, I do want you to come. Besides the fact that it will take time out of our Friday night, I think having you there could help melt the bitch's exterior a bit."

"But I have no idea how to act around these types of people, Christian! I mean, I didn't even know what the name of this hair style was called until Franco told me and I had no idea who Carolyn Herrera was until Andrea pulled her up on Google for me even though I'm wearing her clothes!"

"You'll be great, Ana. Just be yourself."

_Myself. If I were myself I'd be in sweats and a ponytail sitting on your lap watching a movie and eating the cheesecake I made you last night, not in a two thousand dollar dress and a chignon._

"But,"

"You'll be fine. Now come, I abhor lateness and if we don't leave now, we'll be behind schedule."

In the car she shifted, the pearl stringed thongs he'd told her to wear both uncomfortable and incredibly sensual at the same time. He smirked and held out his hand with a sigh.

"Give me the panties, Ana."

"What?"

"You're clearly uncomfortable and you're already nervous so in an effort to help you out with one of those things, you may remove the panties."

"But…but then I'll have no underwear on!" she hissed so that Taylor couldn't hear her.

"A fact I shall keep to myself and fully exploit later, of that you can be sure."

Huffing in female indignation she slammed the offending underwear into his outstretched palm, rolling her eyes when he licked the pearls before shoving them into his suit coat pocket.

"You are such a,"

"Man? I can't help it if you turn me on all the damn time. I saw that roll of your eyes too and you know how I feel about that." He grabbed her hand and rubbed it over his crotch with a groan she was sure Taylor could hear in the front seat before releasing her to adjust himself. "Show time, baby," he said with a wink when the door opened to the building that housed the Mile High Club.

Outside a few photographers snapped their picture while Christian stood in front of her to ensure that nobody got a shot of her sans panties as she exited the car. She giggled when he pulled her against him and kissed her cheek for the cameras, the lightness of the moment enough to make her forget the nasty woman inside that Andrea had given her a full rundown on.

It wasn't that Ana minded being brought to Franco's salon for makeup and hair and she certainly didn't mind the time she had been able to spend with Andrea getting ready in Christian's guest room. It was what Andrea had been tasked with doing that had unnerved her. For an hour Ana had sat and listened as Andrea rattled off the dos and don'ts of a dinner with Ivana Denahi.

'Do smile shyly. Do not show teeth. Do not make bold and direct eye contact. Do ask about her work with the clean water project in Ecuador. Do not ask about her defunct charity work in Columbia. Do laugh at jokes about men, specifically her husband. Do not laugh at anything her husband says. Show no physical affection, give her no personal information and for the love of God do not tell her you're in your early twenties no matter how many times she asks.'

It hadn't occurred to her until the very second the couple rose from the table they were seated at that Christian would have to introduce her as something but as usual he'd handled everything with an ease she could only hope would rub off on her.

"Michael, Ivana, may I introduce you to Ms. Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, Michael and Ivana Denahi."

Michael had looked at her with detached interest and a polite nod but Ivana sized her up with a scrutiny only a woman is capable of, offering her limp wristed hand in greeting. Ana smiled politely at Christian when he tucked her chair in and shivered when he dragged his hand over the back of her neck before sitting down himself. Across from her she noticed the way Ivana took it all in as if she were a predator looking for her next meal. Problem was, she wanted to eat Christian just like Andrea had warned. Ana felt wary and protective even though he was clearly more than capable of handling himself.

_Mine, bitch_.

The Dinahi's sat and droned on about the unusually cold winter, the unfortunate hurricane season that had impeded on their travel plans and the rude way their new driver had greeted them that morning.

Ana hated them both instantly. _No wonder he avoids these things like the plague._

By the time their salads arrived she'd begun to feel the pit of disgust take root deep in her gut but until Christian was finished here, she was beholden to listen as Ivana berated her husband, treated the wait staff like scum and flirted with her date.

"I loathe the Valentino spring line. I just don't get it. Why are designers suddenly caring what the everyday housewife is wearing? I for one do not want to dress like Mary from Main Street. Don't you agree, Anastasia?"

Christian didn't stop listening to Michael who continued to ignore his wife while the men talked business but he felt Ana's indecision, his hand resting slightly on her knee in an effort to relax her. It didn't work.

Instead Ana took a long sip of her sancerre wine, patted her mouth with her ridiculously expensive silk napkin and fought the urge to slap the bitch in the face.

"I'm not familiar with his spring line, nor am I familiar with his fall line. I am, however, well acquainted with the clearance rack at Target."

Christian hid his snicker behind his own glass of wine and watched with mild surprise as Michael's eyes widened with pleasure. Ivana let out a laugh thinking somehow that Ana was joking and waited for her to offer some sort of offending remark about those she deemed beneath her but when nothing came she realized the joke was on her and simply moved her attention to Christian.

"Will we see you in New York, Christian?" Ivana asked.

"I should hope so since the trip is to meet with your board of directors."

Ivana slid her gaze to Ana, hostility at having been made the butt of a joke burning behind the fake green contacts. "And will you be accompanying Mr. Grey? Or will he be _alone_?"

His hand tightened on her knee, one finger tapping the inside of her leg to keep her from reaching over the table to strangle the woman.

"I will not be going to New York."

Ivana's eyes sparkled with a challenge, the smarmy grin of her lips showcasing perfect white teeth that gleamed in the candlelight.

"Well don't you worry about a thing, I'll be sure to keep him entertained. Michael, we should have a dinner party." Her well-kept hands clapped together, that smarmy grin turning into an outright sneer as her devious mind worked overtime. "We can invite the Brickner sisters!"

Ana wanted to leave. Badly. But there was no way in hell she was going to give this cunt the satisfaction of a retreat. So with as much grace as she could muster she remained silent as Christian politely declined due to his schedule.

"Surely you can find a few hours for dinner. The girls are just back from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit shoot but I'm sure they'd be more than happy to,"

"I'm not interested, Ivana. Thank you. I'll be too busy trying to get back here anyway to be much company." He looked over at Ana just then, saw the way his words affected her and smiled big. How could he not with her eyes joyful and her hand gripping his like that?

This may cost him the deal but right now, he just didn't give a damn.

With the ease of a thousand dinners similar to this one he steered the conversation back to neutral ground and there it stayed through three more courses, each one better than the last. Ana humbly thanked the waiter as did Christian but the Denahi's, when not ignoring the server's presence completely were just this side of complete assholes.

Their behavior and obvious disdain for those they saw as less than them was enough to make Ana's blood boil but she kept her wits and concentrated on Christian's hand as it inched up her leg, stopping when he touched the skin at the top of her stockings.

"You're wearing stockings and no panties, Ms. Steele?" he'd whispered into her ear as their dinner companions ordered their dessert.

"Christian!"

"No one can hear me, baby. Trust me, I don't want anyone knowing what's going on, or in your case, not going on, underneath your dress. Excuse yourself to use the restroom in three minutes and wait outside the door." His brows raised when her mouth opened to protest, a low, "It was not a request, Anastasia," coming out of his delicious mouth.

His dick swelled to life when she demurely dropped her napkin onto her chair and rose, the scent of her perfume lingering behind. For a few seconds he allowed himself to watch the sway of her ass as she walked away, the thrill of knowing she was bare and about to be taken by him so intoxicating he felt heady. He tolerated her absence for no more than a minute before excusing himself under the pretense of speaking with his head chef and made his way to the hall where the restrooms were located.

She was there, her eyes bright with anticipation, her teeth sunk into that bottom lip in what could only be described of as an invitation to sin. He gripped her arm and directed her down another hall and into the manager's office. It would be empty since the restaurant was full but they still had limited time so while he unzipped she hiked her dress over the swell of her hips and bent forward, her hands bracing herself on the wall.

"That's my girl," he said while he watched her, his hands sliding over that smooth expanse of skin over each hip before impaling her. "This has to be quick, Ana. Touch yourself."

A small thrill went up her spine as she reached between her legs to feel where they were joined, his groan shooting strait to part of her brain that controlled her libido.

"Faster," he demanded, her fingers rubbing back and forth as he jack hammered into her pussy until she cried out and came, the wash of her heat coating him without warning. He held her while she jerked and lifted her when her legs went weak, his dick desperate to empty into her. "On your knees," he demanded.

Ana, still breathless from a climax that stole her mind dropped right to the plush white carpet, opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to catch his semen, the sight of him jerking in front of her, face contorted in pleasure so beautiful she could cry.

Christian zipped himself up and lifted her to her feet, leaning against the door to watch while she smoothed her dress down and tried to tidy her hair. "That ought to take the edge off and get you through another few minutes with that woman," he said with satisfaction. "I know I feel better."

They made quite a pair as they made their way back to the table, Ana giggling at their shared secret, Christian stoic and impassive as usual. The Denahi's didn't point out the fact that their hosts had just disappeared for ten minutes but Ana didn't miss the way Ivana all but hissed at her when she sat and she certainly didn't miss the way the bitch kept bringing up her supermodel friends who were all _'just dying to meet Christian Grey!'_ If Ana hadn't been riding the high of a quick but devastatingly effective orgasm she might have cared. But as it was, she could still taste Christian on her tongue and smell him on her skin so old woman Denahi? Well she could just go fuck herself and her supermodels for all anyone cared.

The women sat in silence while the men tied up loose ends and made plans for New York. When the waiter came to offer aperitifs only to be waved away as if he were an annoyance, Ana felt indignant anger that couldn't be ignored any longer.

"Dave?" The waiter turned back to the table and gave Ana a waiting look. "I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of us so wonderfully tonight. You truly made this experience a good one. You have the patience of a saint."

"Thank you, Ms. Steele. I'm delighted that you had a good time."

Christian hid his smile by standing to end the evening but he saw the way Ivana's eyes bugged out of her head at the obvious reference to her behavior and the way Michael looked at Ana as if she were finally worth looking at. _Look away old man before I take your eyes out with the gold spoon you just pocketed._

The couples said their goodbyes with air kisses and handshakes as fake as the breasts on Ivana's chest and departed at the elevator. Her hands lingered on Christian's arms, a pout on her lips as she asked him one more time to reconsider coming to a dinner party in his honor. Again he politely declined, delicately prying himself free from her manicured nails.

"Anastasia, it was lovely meeting you."

_Not you you waste of breath._ "You as well," she answered sweetly for Christian's sake.

When the doors of the lift closed Ana fell against the wall, the ruse of being civilized too exhausting to continue for even one more minute.

"What a horrible, horrible woman. And shame on him for staying with her. Ugh! No wonder you hate dinner meetings!"

Christian laughed at her display, fought the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her and ushered her into the waiting car while Taylor held the growing crowd of paparazzi at bay.

"She is repugnant, that we fully agree on. You were brilliant tonight though. Thank you, for making it tolerable."

"I didn't do anything," she huffed out, reaching for the pins that held her hair in place. This high society crap was so not her style.

"You certainly did." In the backseat he pulled her into a straddle on his lap, holding her hands behind her at the small of her back so that she wouldn't touch him. "Despite the company, you made it enjoyable. I should bring you to every meeting I have."

"Oh my God no! I don't think I could do that again. The entire time I had to refrain from stabbing her with my fork. Supermodels..." she hissed the word and leaned in to kiss him.

He loved it. Indignant, jealous, fiery Ana was quickly becoming his favorite. "You know you never have to worry about that right?" he asked between kisses that were quickly growing more and more heated.

"What?" Her bare sex ground against the seam of his pants.

"Fuck this car can't go fast enough right now." More kissing, more groping, more of the sensation of being in a whirlwind. It had never been like this before and yes it felt good and yes it felt erotic but fuck did it scare the piss out of him.

"What don't I have to worry about, Christian?" Behind her she wriggled her hands to get free but he held them firm and pushed up with his hips, hitting her at just the right angle to distract her.

"Other women. I would never do that to you, Anastasia. I value monogamy."

"I don't worry about it," she panted when he bent her back to bite her nipple through the fabric of her dress. And that was the truth. "My face hurts from your scruff," she whined, his laugh somehow taking away the burn. Taylor opened the door and looked away while the boss carried his girlfriend/lover/submissive into the elevator, blindly reaching out to hit the penthouse button. When the door refused to close the CPO rolled his eyes and leaned in, punched in the code and ducked out unnoticed when the doors whizzed shut.

_You're welcome, asshole!_

"I want to taste you," Christian growled, carrying her straight to the bedroom and tossing her on the bed without stopping to take off his suit jacket. Taste her he did, his body needing more, wanting more, demanding more. She was sweet on his tongue, musky and tangy and salty and everything he craved and when she came his satisfaction was less about his achievement and all about her pleasure.

She sighed his name when he entered her and had he not been standing at the edge of the bed, feet firmly planted on the floor with her ankles in his hands, he'd have sworn he was flying.

Saturday had dawned cold and dreary, not unusual for Seattle in mid-January but it depressed Ana enough so that Christian set her up with her computer and the credit card he'd given her with the command that she purchase anything and everything the Boys and Girls Club needed. At first she'd refused, had even sat up on her knees and held the card out to him but he just threatened to call Andrea and have her purchase whatever she could find instead.

"You will do no such thing!"

One brow lifted, the fingers over his own keyboard paused. "Oh, I certainly will, Ms. Steele, especially if you're challenging me." He did his best to hide the smile he felt when her eyes went to slits and then closed altogether. "What's the big deal? I want to help. It's important to you and therefore it's important to me. So stop the bull shit and spend whatever you need to to fund whatever it is they're lacking."

"I know your heart is in the right place but I can't help but remember what Elliot's date said that night when we had dinner before Christmas."

_Heart? Oh Ms. Steele..._

"You're refusing a substantial donation to an organization you fully believe in because of some two bit whore who my brother probably doesn't even remember? That's plain stupid, Anastasia." He was getting mad. Nobody refused gifts from him. If anything, people were always looking for more.

She dropped the hand holding the card into her lap and took a deep breath. "You're right. But I don't ever want you to feel like I'm using you for your money."

At that he laughed, a good, boisterous laugh that filled the cavernous bedroom and made her chest burst with joy.

"There are a million things I worry about on a daily basis, baby. You being a gold digger is definitely not one of them. I don't care if you buy a Steinway piano. Just get the stuff you need and whatever you think the kids want and have fun doing it. I gave you that card months ago and the only things I've ever seen on it are the salon and waxing appointments and that's only because Franco has the number. I want to take care of you, Ana. That's a big part of my role here and you refusing means that I'm not living up to my side of the deal."

Still she hesitated but then he took the laptop, went onto the Sam Ash music store website and told her she had carte blanch to purchase it all. And well, at first she held back but the keyboard at the club was old and the middle C did always stick...and then of course their was the missing snare drum and the dented microphones she always had to rig to get to work...

It had bought him enough time to work for a few hours and to finalize his travel plans for the following weekend. It angered him that he'd scheduled this trip to overlap with his weekend time with Ana but business doesn't stop for anyone and he, of all people understood that. At some point she'd tired of buying things and he'd tired of telling her, 'Yes, that amount is fine' so after a shower she went to the old submissive bedroom to play some guitar and work on a song she'd started writing.

"I want to hear it," he explained when she asked him why he was getting out of bed. "Plus, you look hot as fuck in my shirt."

"Thank you, Sir," she said with a turn so he could see it all. Her eyes settled on the black and white picture above her head but didn't linger there.

"I never looked that good it that thing anyway," he chided. "I'll stay here but only because I know you're secretive about writing but I would like to hear you play something for me later on before we go to my parent's."

"OK," she answered happily, rushing out of the room before she saw her photo again. It wasn't that she didn't like that he'd hung it there, she loved that. It was the unknown implications of it that had her filled with hope but wary to let herself live in the fantasy.

An hour later his personal CFO called to verify that yes, the $119k charge to Sam Ash were charges he made and that yes, it was legitimate. It gave him satisfaction to know that she'd done as he'd asked but what had him resting his head back against the plush headboard was the way she'd smiled and thanked him with such enthusiasm while she rattled off what she'd purchased.

"Christian! Lunch!" she called from the kitchen much to his amusement.

_Well that's a first._ Nobody had called him to the table like that since Grace.

"I made BLT's with avocado for you. I read an article about the best foods to eat and avocado and tomatoes were on the list so I thought with all the stress you've been under it would be good to up your immune system. So I've substituted the lettuce for spinach and had Gail switch to twelve grain bread."

"My immune system?" He watched with mirth while she set the food in front of him along with a glass of lemonade before sitting down, cross legged, in his Harvard sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. Easily his favorite of any outfit she owned. _And wait, did she say she had Gail switch?_

"Yes, your immune system. Planes are one of the germiest places and you keep flying so I want to double down on your vitamin C." She took a long sip of her drink and pointed to his. "That's fresh squeezed lemonade. No sugar of course because that just counteracts the benefits of the citrus."

She was rambling and happy and so mesmerizing he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Germiest? Is that a word?"

"Of course. And if it's not, it should be." She took a bite and nodded sagely as if, well as if she'd just made up a word and had gotten away with it. "Do you take vitamins? Because you said you didn't get the flu shot and I heard there's a rash of it in Kirkland." She lifted her shoulders and picked up her sandwich. "Either way you need to take vitamins. I'll research which ones are best for men your age."

"Ana? Are you trying to take care of me?"

She stopped, swallowed, and took another sip, slowly shaking her head as she placed the glass back onto the table top. "No. I'm not _trying_ to take care of you. I _am_ taking care of you. Now eat your lunch."

He was quickly losing the battle he'd been waging. Demanding and contradictory, bubbly and sweet, unassuming and easy going she'd wriggled into his carefully crafted world and had made herself at home and damn if that didn't make him the happiest he'd ever been.

"Yes, ma'am."

She giggled and met his eye then. "Damn right yes ma'am! I like the sound of that. I'm the boss in this kitchen," she joked, sucking off a smear of avocado from her finger.

"I shall agree to cede domination to you when it comes to cooking."

"And in the kitchen you'll call me Mistress?" Her brows cocked up playfully but he just laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Absolutely not."

* * *

"Ana! Christian! I'm so glad you could come!" Grace's face was alight with joy, the sight of her middle son exiting the car that _he_ drove instead of his security exciting her almost as much as the sight of him helping out the woman he'd brought with him. She was dying to know what was going on between the two of them but she knew better than to ask, leaving the task to Elliot who had been fully prepped on what she wanted to know and how she felt it best to go about finding out.

"Hi, Grace! Thank you so much for having me, I've been looking forward to this all week," Ana gushed, handing her the cranberry walnut bread she'd made as a gift to her along with the apple pie she'd baked that morning while Christian slept in.

Christian hid the roll of his eyes at his mother's obvious giddiness and handed her the two bottles of wine he'd brought as he kissed her cheek affectionately.

Inside his father greeted them with his customary glass of bourbon and an uncharacteristic smile. Elliot showed up then, a red head on his arm who he introduced as Amelia.

"Where did you pick this one up at?" his father grumbled when the men were shoved to the side as the women retreated to the kitchen where Grace had set up the ingredients to make dinner with.

"Aw, Dad. She's a nice girl. Met her at the World of Concrete Expo in Vegas last week. Not a keeper but not a throw away either."

"A throw away, Elliot? I find it abhorrent how you speak about some of these women. Try being like Christian a little more would you?"

At that Elliot guffawed and smacked the old man's back while Christian did his best not to choke on the drink he'd been handed. _More like me? That has definitely never been said in this house before._

"What are they doing in there?" Elliot asked, following his father into the living room where the football game was on and a spread of finger foods had been laid out. "Damn, mom went all out, huh? Sure as shit isn't for Amelia. Talk about pressure, bro, all of the sudden you're the Baby Jesus."

"Oh stop it, Elliot. Your mother is always a good hostess." He waved his hand dismissively and sat down to watch the game. "They're making dinner. Anastasia wanted to learn how to make meat balls and sauce so mom is showing her." He said it casually as if it wasn't the biggest deal in the world right now that Christian had brought a girl around but inside he was as anxious as his wife to find out what was going on between them.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched his sons as they ate and took in the game. He noticed the way Christian kept looking towards the door and the way he checked his watch every few minutes. He'd have to tell Grace about all of this and knowing his wife, she'd pepper him with questions on things he'd never think to look for so while the game droned on and Elliot caught them up on some of the new things he learned at the convention, Carrick put on his lawyer hat and made observations to tell Grace about later.

This feeling of excited contentment was new and odd and not one Christian knew how to handle. It had been half an hour but he _missed_ her. Actually missed being close to her even though she was still in the same house and no doubt being well taken care of by his mother. But still the need to see her was bigger than his desire to watch the game so he waited until his brother and father were distracted and quietly made his way to the kitchen, his throat tightening in an overwhelming mixture of fear and happiness at the scene he walked in on.

"The egg binds it but the breadcrumbs help too so they're both equally important. Oh, Amelia dear would you stir the garlic for me please? You don't want to burn the garlic. That's sauce making rule number one."

He watched as his mother flitted from Ana to the stove to check on the progress of the sauce, stopping to laugh at something that was said or to take a sip of her wine. It was warm and inviting and cozy and all the things he never thought he'd have and never knew he wanted. _Want. That damn word again._

He needed air. Too many things were changing in him in ways he had no control over and that couldn't happen. Being in control is how he wound up a billionaire at 23. Being in control was how he achieved perfect privacy and respect. Being in control made his world safe and secure and his. _Air, I need air._

Just as he moved away from the door where he'd remained unseen Ana looked up, caught his eye and gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever laid eyes on in his entire life. It filled up a part of him that had been empty and aching for so long that he'd grown accustomed to it, had lived with it and had forgotten about it.

_Want._

The breath rushed out of his lungs at the sudden onslaught of emotions, chastisement racing through his brain quicker than he could stop it. _Weak. Emotions make you weak. Feelings fuck up everything. I can't want this...I don't do relationships. What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Seattle scored, son. Come watch the replay," Carrick called from the living room. On autopilot Christian made his way back to his spot on the oversized maroon couch and watched the play without seeing it. His anger built by the minute, the silent fury of a man who wanted what he couldn't have and couldn't control himself from wanting it in the first place. His body went numb while the words of his birth mother and her pimp and later Elena Lincoln assaulted his self worth._ 'Worthless, useless, annoying, pathetic, lacking, unwanted.'_ That's who he was. He was all of those things and worse.

Just when the roar in his ears became deafening Ana sat next to him and pressed herself into his side, the scent of her hair and of dinner and of something so distinctly Ana floating past his panic and straight into his heart. The voices stopped, the taunts disappeared, the numbness lifted. She filled his senses with something he couldn't name and was afraid to try.

She laughed at something Elliot said, turning to look up at Christian, blue eyes shining with joy and care and everything he wanted and he gave up. The battle had been lost months ago, he'd just refused to waive the white flag.

The shift was immediate, the beat of his heart speaking to hers. _What exactly am I fighting?_

She leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw without any idea that everything had just changed until he grasped her hand in his and lifted her chin so that he could kiss her. Around them his family carried on with their conversation, unaware of the magnitude of the moment, their excited chatter background noise to the blood rushing through his ears.

"I want this with you, Ana," he whispered against her lips, his voice as close to timid as she'd ever heard it.

"What do you want, Christian?"

"This," he motioned between them with his free hand. "More. I want more with you." Surely she felt it. The intensity was burning him alive.

Her heart fell from the confines of its carefully constructed prison and leapt into her throat at his sincerity and of his vulerability.

"More," she whispered, her fingers ghosting over his lips as if to prove to herself that he'd actually said that word.

He pulled her in a bit tighter and fought the panic that began to bubble at what he perceived as her indecision. She'd left one man because of this very reason but he simply couldn't continue to pretend that what they were doing was enough for him.

"Yes. More. We keep parading ourselves as a couple but the only people we're lying to are ourselves. I want to try this out and see where it goes and I know we're both damaged and fucked up and I'll probably screw it up somehow but I can't continue to ignore what I want any longer." His hand cupped the nape of her neck. "And what I want is you."

She wrapped her own hand around his wrist and kissed him then, the searing heat between them the same as it had always been but heavy with meaning and understanding.

_Say something. Anything. Say yes. Just say yes._

"I want more too, Christian. I want more and I want it with you."

_Thank fuck._ The relief was immediate, the kiss lingering.

Their moment was interrupted by the flash of a camera, Grace's guilty look too sweet for anyone to get mad at.

"You both looked so cute just then that I couldn't help myself," she said sheepishly. "Here, I'll forward the photo to you, Christian."

He laughed when his pocket vibrated with her text and then stood, pulling Ana into his arms to seal the deal in the best way he knew how. Dinner, conversation, the drive home...it was too long of a wait.

"If you'll excuse me," he said to the room, "I thought I'd show my girlfriend the boathouse. We'll be back in time for dinner."

_Girlfriend! _She was going to pass out from happiness.

He'd meant to take his time, to savor the moment and its significance but he couldn't. When her heels sunk into the grass he tossed her over one shoulder and sprinted towards the water, stopping only long enough to open the door of what she assumed was the boathouse and flick on the light before racing up the stairs.

Her embarrassment at what the Grey's must be thinking was quickly abated when he kissed her against the door, his body pushing into hers with a desperation she understood and felt herself.

Over her head went the sweater dress she'd worn, his sweater landing next to it with a soft whoosh that contrasted with the heavy thud of his shoes being kicked off.

When she was in nothing more than a bra and he had pushed his boxers to his ankles he lifted her and entered her with a relieved groan that shook her to her core.

This was so much bigger than more. She knew it in her soul as if it was a truth that had always lived within her and had finally decided to make its presence known.

"Ana," he forced out on a gentle thrust as her nails dug into the skin of his biceps and then the back of his head. "More baby, I want more."

"It's yours," she answered, her voice mewling and hushed and so full of want that it made her eyes water. "I'm yours."

"Mine," he grunted, her back chaffing against the stucco'd wall.

He fell back onto the couch and took her hands in his, pulling them to the small of her back while he fucked her from beneath. How she longed to touch him, to have her hands free while she was on top of him if nothing more so that she could show him that he was safe with her.

"Oh fuck you feel so good," he groaned as she ground against him until he couldn't take another minute and flipped her onto her back. "Wrap your legs around me, baby. I want to watch you cum." He moved in fluid strokes, his hand reaching between them to rush her along.

"Christian!" she cried, her hands flying to his forearms, the muscles chorded and strong under her grasp. With his name on her lips she let him take her over the edge, let him finish her off while he watched, let him claim her as his when his seed bathed her with the searing heat of his climax.

Mind blowing. He'd always prided himself on how great his sex life had been but this was an entirely different level. With Ana, it always had been.

"So we're really going to do this?" she asked when he lifted his face from the crook of her neck to kiss her swollen mouth.

"Baby, we're just putting a name on it now but we've been doing this for months." He pulled out of her and looked down at what he knew was the only woman who would ever breach his walls. "I have no idea what to do but I'll do my best not to fuck it up. I will tell you this though, Ana Steele. I do not do anything half assed. I may fuck up here and there but I _will_ make you happy."

"You already do, Christian."

And somehow that sweet smile riding on that revelation was more satisfying to him than any amount of sex ever could be.

* * *

**Authors note: That's it for at least two weeks, got lots to do over here in the real world. I updated Slow and Steady yesterday and that's a looooong story so occupy yourself with that if you need some A&C loving. **


End file.
