Part II 5

I shudder. What a legacy. I can’t wrap my headaround it.I scroll through the extensive list. I want somethingupbeat. Hmm, Beyoncé—doesn’t sound like Christian’staste. Crazy in Love. Oh yes! How apt. I hit the repeatbutton and put it on loud.I sashay back to the kitchen and find a bowl, open theI sashay back to the kitchen and find a bowl, open thefridge, and take out the eggs. I crack them open and beginto whisk, dancing the whole time.Raiding the fridge once more, I gather potatoes, ham,and—Yes!—peas from the freezer. All of these will do.Finding a pan, I place it on the stove, put in a little olive oil,and go back to whisking.No empathy, I muse. Is this unique to Christian?Maybe all men are like this, baffled by women. I just don’tknow. Perhaps it’s not such a revelation.I wish Kate were home; she would know. She’s beenin Barbados far too long. She should be back at the end ofthe week after her additional vacation with Elliot. I wonderif it’s still lust at first sight for them.One of the things I love about you.I stop whisking. He said it. Does that mean there areother things? I smile for the first time since seeing Mrs.Robinson—a genuine, heartfelt, face-splitting smile.Christian slips his arms around me, making me jump.“Interesting choice of music,” he purrs as he kisses mebelow my ear. “Your hair smells good.” He nuzzles myhair and inhales deeply.Desire uncurls in my belly. No. I shrug out of hisembrace.“I’m still mad at you.”He frowns. “How long are you going to keep this up?”he asks, dragging a hand through his hair.I shrug. “At least until I’ve eaten.”His lips twitch with amusement. Turning, he picks upthe remote control from the counter and switches off themusic.“Did you put that on your iPod?” I ask.He shakes his head, his expression somber, and Iknow it was her—Ghost Girl.“Don’t you think she was trying to tell you somethingback then?”“Well, with hindsight, probably,” he says quietly.QED. No empathy. My subconscious folds her armsand smacks her lips in disgust.“Why’s it still on there?”“Why’s it still on there?”“I quite like the song. But if it offends you I’ll removeit.”“No, it’s fine. I like to cook to music.”“What would you like to hear?”“Surprise me.”He smirks at me and heads over to the iPod dockwhile I go back to my whisking.Moments later the hea一venly sweet, soulful voice ofNina Simone fills the room. It’s one of Ray’s fa一vorites: “IPut a Spell on You.”I flush, turning to gape at Christian. What is he trying totell me? He put a spell on me a long time ago. Oh my . . .his look has changed, the levity gone, his eyes darker,intense.I watch him, enthralled as slowly, like the predator heis, he stalks me in time to the slow sultry beat of the music.He’s barefoot, wearing just an untucked white shirt, jeans,and a smoldering look.Nina sings, “you’re mine” as Christian reaches me, hisNina sings, “you’re mine” as Christian reaches me, hisintention clear.“Christian, please,” I whisper, the whisk redundant inmy hand.“Please what?”“Don’t do this.”“Do what?”“This.”He’s standing in front of me, gazing down at me.“Are you sure?” he breathes and reaching over, hetakes the whisk from my hand and places it back in thebowl with the eggs. My heart is in my mouth. I don’t wantthis—I do want this—badly.He’s so frustrating. He’s so hot and desirable. I tearmy gaze away from his spellbinding look.“I want you, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “I love and Ihate, and I love arguing with you. It’s very new. I need toknow that we’re okay. It’s the only way I know how.”“My feelings for you ha一ven’t changed,” I whisper.His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. Thefamiliar pull is there, all my synapses goading me towardhim, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at thepatch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless,driven by desire—I want to taste him there.He’s so close, but he doesn’t touch me. His heat iswarming my skin.“I’m not going to touch you until you say yes,” he sayssoftly. “But right now, after a really shitty morning, I wantto bury myself in you and just forget everything but us.”Oh my . . . Us. A magical combination, a small potentpronoun that clinches the deal. I raise my head to stare athis beautiful yet serious face.“I’m going to touch your face,” I breathe, and see hissurprise reflected briefly in his eyes before his acceptanceregisters.Lifting my hand, I caress his cheek, and run myfingertips across his stubble. He closes his eyes andexhales, leaning his face into my touch.He leans down slowly, and my lips automatically lift tomeet his. He hovers over me.meet his. He hovers over me.“Yes or no, Anastasia?” he whispers.“Yes.”His mouth softly closes on mine, coaxing, coercing mylips apart as his arms fold around me, pulling me to him.His hand moves up my back, fingers tangling in the hair atthe back of my head and tugging gently, while his otherhand flattens on my behind, forcing me against him. I moansoftly.“Mr. Grey.” Taylor coughs, and Christian releases meimmediately.“Taylor,” he says, his voice frigid.I whirl round to see an uncomfortable Taylor standingon the threshold of the great room. Christian and Taylorstare at each other, some unspoken communicationpassing between them.“My study,” Christian snaps, and Taylor walks brisklyacross the room.“Rain check,” Christian whispers to me beforefollowing Taylor out of the room.following Taylor out of the room.I take a deep, steadying breath. Holy hell. Can I notresist him for one minute? I shake my head, disgusted atmyself, grateful for Taylor’s interruption, embarrassingthough it is.I wonder what Taylor has had to interrupt in the past.What’s he seen? I don’t want to think about that. Lunch.I’ll make lunch. I busy myself slicing potatoes. What doesTaylor want? My mind races—is this about Leila?Ten minutes later, they emerge, just as the omelet isready. Christian looks preoccupied as he glances at me.“I’ll brief them in ten,” he says to Taylor.“We’ll be ready,” Taylor answers and lea一ves the greatroom.I produce two warmed plates and place them on thekitchen island.“Lunch?”“Please,” Christian says as he perches on one of thebar stools. Now he’s watching me carefully.“Problem?”“No.”I scowl. He’s not telling me. I dish out lunch and sitdown beside him, resigned to staying in the dark.“This is good,” Christian murmurs appreciatively as hetakes a bite. “Would you like a glass of wine?”“No, thank you.” I need to keep a clear head aroundyou, Grey.It does taste good, even though I’m not that hungry.But I eat, knowing Christian will nag if I don’t. EventuallyChristian disrupts our brooding silence and switches on theclassical piece I heard earlier.“What’s this?” I ask.“Canteloube, Songs of the Auvergne. This is called‘Bailero.’ ”“It’s lovely. What language is it?”“It’s in old French—Occitan, in fact.”“You speak French, do you understand it?” Memoriesof the flawless French he spoke at his parents’ dinnercome to mind . . .“Some words, yes.” Christian smiles, visibly relaxing.“Some words, yes.” Christian smiles, visibly relaxing.“My mother had a mantra: musical instrument, foreignlanguage, martial art. Elliot speaks Spanish; Mia and Ispeak French. Elliot plays guitar, I play piano, and Mia thecello.”“Wow. And the martial arts?”“Elliot does Judo. Mia put her foot down at age twelveand refused.” He smirks at the memory.“I wish my mother had been that organized.”“Dr. Grace is formidable when it comes to theaccomplishments of her children.”“She must be very proud of you. I would be.”A dark thought flashes across Christian’s face, and helooks momentarily uncomfortable. He regards me warilyas if he’s in uncharted territory.“Ha一ve you decided what you’ll wear this evening? Ordo I need to come and pick something for you?” His toneis suddenly brusque.Whoa! He sounds angry. Why? What ha一ve I said?“Um . . . not yet. Did you choose all those clothes?”“Um . . . not yet. Did you choose all those clothes?”“No, Anastasia, I didn’t. I ga一ve a list and your size to apersonal shopper at Neiman Marcus. They should fit. Justso that you know, I ha一ve ordered additional security forthis evening and the next few days. With Leilaunpredictable and unaccounted for somewhere on thestreets of Seattle, I think it’s a wise precaution. I don’twant you going out unaccompanied. Okay?”I blink at him. “Okay.” What happened to I-mustha一ve-you-now Grey?“Good. I’m going to brief them. I shouldn’t be long.”“They’re here?”“Yes.”Where?Collecting his plate, Christian places it in the sink anddisappears from the room. What the hell was that about?He’s like several different people in one body. Isn’t that asymptom of schizophrenia? I must Google that.I clear my plate, wash up quickly, and head back up tomy bedroom carrying the ANASTASIA ROSE STEELEdossier. Back in the walk-in closet, I pull out the three longevening dresses. Now, which one?Lying down on the bed, I gaze at my Mac, my iPad, andmy Blackberry. I am overwhelmed with technology. I setabout transferring Christian’s playlist from my iPad to theMac, then fire up Google to surf the net.I’m lying across the bed looking at my Mac as Christianenters.“What are you doing?” he inquires softly.I panic briefly, wondering if I should let him see thewebsite I’m on: Multiple Personality Disorder: TheSymptoms.Stretching out beside me, he eyes the webpage withamusement.“On this site for a reason?” he asks nonchalantly.Brusque Christian has gone—playful Christian is back.How the hell am I supposed to keep up with this?“Research. Into a difficult personality.” I give him mymost deadpan look.His lips twitch with a suppressed smile. “A difficultpersonality?”“My own pet project.”“I’m a pet project now? A sideline. Scienceexperiment maybe. When I thought I was everything. MissSteele, you wound me.”“How do you know it’s you?”“Wild guess.” He smirks.“It’s true that you are the only fucked-up, mercurial,control freak that I know, intimately.”“I thought I was the only person you know intimately.”He arches a brow.I flush. “Yes. That, too.”“Ha一ve you reached any conclusions yet?”I turn and gaze at him. He’s on his side stretched outbeside me with his head resting on his elbow, hisbeside me with his head resting on his elbow, hisexpression soft, amused.“I think you’re in need of intense therapy.”He reaches up and gently tucks my hair behind myears.“I think I’m in need of you. Here.” He hands me a tubeof lipstick.I frown at him, perplexed. It’s harlot red, not my colorat all.“You want me to wear this?” I squeak.He laughs. “No, Anastasia, not unless you want to.Not sure it’s your color,” he finishes dryly.He sits up on the bed cross-legged and drags his shirtoff over his head. Oh my. “I like your road map idea.”I stare at him blankly. Road map?“The no-go areas,” he says by way of explanation.“Oh. I was kidding.”“I’m not.”“You want me to draw on you, with lipstick?”“It washes off. Eventually.”“It washes off. Eventually.”This means I could touch him freely. A small smile ofwonder plays on my lips, and I smirk at him.“What about something more permanent like aSharpie?”“I could get a tattoo.” His eyes are alight with humor.Christian Grey with a tatt? Marring his lovely body,when it’s marked in so many ways already? No way!“No to the tattoo!” I laugh to hide my horror.“Lipstick, then.” He grins.Shutting the Mac, I push it to the side. This could befun.“Come.” He holds his hands out to me. “Sit on me.”I push my flats off my feet, scramble into a sittingposition, and crawl over to him. He lies down on the bedbut keeps his knees flexed.“Lean against my legs.”I clamber over him and sit astride as instructed. Hiseyes are wide and cautious. But he’s amused, too.“You seem—enthusiastic for this,” he comments wryly.“I’m always eager for information, Mr. Grey, and itmeans you’ll relax, because I’ll know where theboundaries lie.”He shakes his head, as if he can’t quite believe thathe’s about to let me draw all over his body.“Open the lipstick,” he orders.Oh, he’s in über-bossy mode, but I don’t care.“Give me your hand.”I give him my other hand.“The one with the lipstick.” He rolls his eyes at me.“Are you rolling your eyes at me?”“Yep.”“That’s very rude, Mr. Grey. I know some peoplewho get positively violent at eye-rolling.”“Do you now?” His tone is ironic.I give him my hand with the lipstick, and suddenly hesits up so we are nose to nose.“Ready?” he asks in a low, soft murmur that makeseverything tighten and tense inside me. Oh wow.“Yes,” I whisper. His proximity is alluring, his toned“Yes,” I whisper. His proximity is alluring, his tonedflesh close, his Christian-smell mixed with my bodywash.He guides my hand up to the curve of his shoulder.“Press down,” he breathes, and my mouth goes dry ashe directs my hand down, from the top of his shoulder,around his arm socket then down the side of his chest. Thelipstick lea一ves a broad, livid red streak it in its wake. Hestops at the bottom of this ribcage then directs me acrosshis stomach. He tenses and stares, seemingly impassive,into my eyes, but beneath his careful blank look, I see hisrestraint.His a一version is held in strict check, the line of his jaw isstrained, and there’s tension around his eyes. Midwayacross his stomach he murmurs, “And up the other side.”He releases my hand.I mirror the line I’ve drawn on his left side. The trusthe’s giving me is heady but tempered by the fact that I canI count his pain. Seven small, round white scars dot hischest, and it’s deep, dark purgatory to see this hideous,evil desecration of his beautiful body. Who would do thisevil desecration of his beautiful body. Who would do thisto a child?“There, done,” I whisper, containing my emotion.“No, you’re not,” he replies and traces a line with hislong index finger around the base of his neck. I follow theline of his finger with a scarlet streak. Finishing, I gaze intothe gray depths of his eyes.“Now my back,” he murmurs. He shifts so I ha一ve toclimb off him, then he turns around on the bed and sitscross-legged with his back to me.“Follow the line from my chest, all the way round tothe other side.” His voice is low and husky.I do as he says until a crimson line runs across themiddle of his back, and as I do, I count more scarsmarring his beautiful body. Nine in all.Holy fuck. I ha一ve to fight the overwhelming need tokiss each one and stop the tears pooling in my eyes. Whatkind of animal would do this? His head is down, and hisbody tense as I complete the circuit round his back.“Around your neck, too?” I whisper.He nods, and I draw another line joining the firstaround the base of his neck beneath his hair.“Finished,” I murmur, and it looks like he’s wearing abizarre skin-colored vest with a harlot-red trim.His shoulders slump as he relaxes, and he turns slowlyto face me once again.“Those are the boundaries,” he says quietly, his eyesdark and pupils dilated . . . from fear? From lust? I want tohurl myself at him, but I restrain myself and gaze at him inwonder.“I can live with those. Right now I want to launchmyself at you,” I whisper.He gives me a wicked smile and holds out his hands, agesture of supplication.“Well, Miss Steele, I’m all yours.”I squeal with childish delight and catapult myself intohis arms, knocking him flat. He twists, letting out a boyishlaugh filled with relief that the ordeal is over. Somehow, Iend up beneath him on the bed.“Now, about that rain check,” he breathes and his“Now, about that rain check,” he breathes and hismouth claims mine once more.My hands fist in his hair while my mouth is feverish againstChristian’s, consuming him, relishing the feel of his tongueagainst mine. And he’s the same, devouring me. It’shea一venly.Suddenly he drags me up and grasps the hem of my Tshirt,whipping it over my head and throwing it on thefloor.“I want to feel you,” he says greedily against my mouthas his hands move behind me to undo my bra. In onesmooth move, it’s off and he pitches it aside.smooth move, it’s off and he pitches it aside.He pushes me back down onto the bed, pressing meinto the mattress, and his mouth and hand move to mybreasts. My fingers curl into his hair as he takes one of mynipples between his lips and tugs hard.I cry out as the sensation sweeps through my body,spikes, and tightens all the muscles around my groin.“Yes, baby, let me hear you,” he murmurs against myoverheated skin.Boy, I want him inside me, now. With his mouth, hetoys with my nipple, pulling at it, making me squirm andwrithe and yearn for him. I sense his longing mixed with—what? Veneration. It’s as if he’s worshipping me.He teases me with his fingers, my nipple growing hardand elongating under his skillful touch. His hand moves tomy jeans, and he deftly undoes the button, tugs the zipperdown, and slips his hand inside my panties, sliding hisfingers against my sex.His breath hisses out as his finger glides into me. I pushmy pelvis up into the heel of his hand, and he responds,my pelvis up into the heel of his hand, and he responds,rubbing against me.“Oh, baby,” he breathes as he hovers over me, staringintently into my eyes. “You’re so wet.” His voice is filledwith wonder.“I want you,” I murmur.His mouth joins with mine again, and I feel his hungrydesperation, his need for me.This is new—it’s never been like this except perhapswhen I came back from Georgia—and his words fromearlier drift back to me . . . I need to know we’re okay.This is the only way I know how.The thought unra一vels me. To know that I ha一ve such aneffect on him, that I can offer him so much solace, doingthis—my inner goddess purrs with pure pleasure. He sitsup, grasps the hem of my jeans, and tugs them off,followed by my panties.Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he stands, takes a foilpacket out of his pocket, and tosses it at me, then removeshis jeans and boxers in one swift motion.I rip the packet open greedily, and when he lies besideme again, I slowly roll the condom on to him. He grabsboth my hands and rolls on to his back.“You. On top,” he orders, pulling me astride him. “Iwant to see you.”Oh.He guides me, and hesitantly I ease myself down ontohim. He closes his eyes and flexes his hips to meet me,filling me, stretching me, his mouth forming a perfect O ashe exhales.Oh, that feels so good—possessing him, possessingme.He holds my hands, and I don’t know if it’s to steadyme or keep me from touching him, even though I ha一ve myroad map.“You feel so good,” he murmurs.I rise again, heady with the power I ha一ve over him,watching Christian Grey slowly coming apart beneath me.He lets go of my hands and grabs my hips, and I place myhands on his arms. He thrusts into me sharply, causing mehands on his arms. He thrusts into me sharply, causing meto cry out.“That’s right, baby, feel me,” he says, his voicestrained.I tip my head back and do exactly that. This is what hedoes so well.I move—countering his rhythm in perfect symmetry—numbing all thought and reason. I am just sensation lost inthis void of pleasure. Up and down . . . again andagain . . . Oh yes . . . Opening my eyes, I stare down athim, my breathing ragged, and he’s staring back at me,eyes blazing.“My Ana,” he mouths.“Yes,” I rasp. “Always.”He groans loudly, closing his eyes again, tipping hishead back. Oh my . . . Seeing Christian undone is enoughto seal my fate, and I come audibly, exhaustingly, spinningdown and around, collapsing on top of him.“Oh, baby,” he groans as he finds his release, holdingme still and letting go.me still and letting go.My head is on his chest in the no-go area, my cheeknestled against the springy hair on his sternum. I ampanting, glowing, and I resist the urge to pucker my lipsand kiss him.I just lie on top of him, catching my breath. Hesmoothes my hair, and his hand runs down my back,caressing me as his breathing calms.“You are so beautiful.”I lift my head to gaze at him, my expression skeptical.He frowns in response and sits up quickly, taking me bysurprise, his arm sweeping round to hold me in place. Iclutch his biceps as we are nose to nose.“You. Are. Beautiful,” he says again, his toneemphatic.“And you’re amazingly sweet sometimes.” I kiss himgently.He lifts me and eases out of me. I wince as he does.Leaning forward, he kisses me softly.“You ha一ve no idea how attractive you are, do you?”I flush. Why’s he going on about this?“All those boys pursuing you—that isn’t enough of aclue?”“Boys? What boys?”“You want the list?” Christian frowns. “Thephotographer, he’s crazy about you, that boy in thehardware store, your roommate’s older brother. Yourboss,” he adds bitterly.“Oh, Christian, that’s just not true.”“Trust me. They want you. They want what’s mine.”He pulls me against him, and I lift my arms to hisshoulders, my hands in his hair, regarding him withamusement.“Mine,” he repeats, his eyes glowing possessively.“Yes, yours.” I reassure him, smiling. He looksmollified, and I feel perfectly comfortable naked in his lapon a bed in the full light of a Saturday afternoon. Whowould ha一ve thought? The lipstick marks remain on hiswould ha一ve thought? The lipstick marks remain on hisexquisite body. I note some smears on the duvet coverthough, and wonder briefly what Mrs. Jones will make ofthem.“The line is still intact,” I murmur and bra一vely trace themark on his shoulder with my index finger. He stiffens,blinking suddenly. “I want to go exploring.”He regards me skeptically.“The apartment?”“No. I was thinking of the treasure map that we’vedrawn on you.” My fingers itch to touch him.His eyebrows lift in surprise, and he blinks withuncertainty. I rub my nose against his.“And what would that entail exactly, Miss Steele?”I lift my hand from his shoulder and run my fingertipsdown his face.“I just want to touch you everywhere I’m allowed.”Christian catches my index finger in his teeth, bitingdown gently.“Ow,” I protest and he grins, a low growl coming from“Ow,” I protest and he grins, a low growl coming fromhis throat.“Okay,” he says, releasing my finger, but his voice islaced with apprehension. “Wait.” He leans behind me,lifting me again, and removes his condom, dropping itunceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.“I hate those things. I’ve a good mind to call Dr.Greene around to give you a shot.”“You think the top ob-gyn in Seattle is going to comerunning?”“I can be very persuasive,” he murmurs, hooking myhair behind my ear. “Franco’s done a great job on yourhair. I like these layers.”What?“Stop changing the subject.”He shifts me back so I’m straddling him, leaning on hispropped-up knees, my feet on either side of his hips. Heleans back on his arms.“Touch away,” he says without humor. He looksnervous, but he’s trying to hide it.Keeping my eyes on his, I reach down and trace myfinger underneath the lipstick line, across his finelysculptured abdominal muscles. He flinches and I stop.“I don’t ha一ve to,” I whisper.“No, it’s fine. Just takes some . . . readjustment on mypart. No one’s touched me for a long time,” he murmurs.“Mrs. Robinson?” The words pop unbidden out of mymouth, and amazingly, I manage to keep all bitterness andrancor out of my voice.He nods, his discomfort obvious. “I don’t want to talkabout her. It will sour your good mood.”“I can handle it.”“No, you can’t, Ana. You see red whenever I mentionher. My past is my past. It’s a fact. I can’t change it. I’mlucky that you don’t ha一ve one, because it would drive mecrazy if you did.”I frown at him, but I don’t want to fight. “Drive youcrazy? More than you are already?” I smile, hoping tolighten the atmosphere between us.His lips twitch. “Crazy for you,” he whispers.His lips twitch. “Crazy for you,” he whispers.My heart swells with joy.“Shall I call Dr. Flynn?”“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he says dryly.Shifting back so he drops his legs, I place my fingersback on his stomach and let them drift across his skin. Hestills once more.“I like touching you.” My fingers skate down to hisna一vel then southward along his happy, happy trail. His lipspart as his breathing changes, his eyes darken and hiserection stirs and twitches beneath me. Holy cow. Roundtwo.“Again?” I murmur.He smiles. “Oh yes, Miss Steele, again.”What a delicious way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Istand beneath the shower, absentmindedly washing myself,careful not to wet my tied-back hair, contemplating the lastcouple of hours. Christian and vanilla seem to be goingcouple of hours. Christian and vanilla seem to be goingwell.He’s revealed so much today. It’s staggering, trying toassimilate all the information and to reflect on what I’velearned: his salary details—Whoa, he’s stinking rich, andfor someone so young; it’s just extraordinary —and thedossiers he has on me and on all his brunette submissives.I wonder if they are all in that filing cabinet?My subconscious purses her lips at me and shakes herhead—don’t even go there. I frown. Just a quick peek?And there’s Leila—with a gun, potentially, somewhere—and her crap taste in music still on his iPod. But evenworse, Mrs. Paedo Robinson, I cannot wrap my headaround her, and I don’t want to. I don’t want her to be ashimmering-haired specter in our relationship. He’s right, Ido go off the deep end when I think of her, so perhaps it’sbest if I don’t.I step out of the shower and dry myself, and I’msuddenly seized by unexpected anger.But who wouldn’t go off the deep end? What normal,But who wouldn’t go off the deep end? What normal,sane person would do that to a fifteen-year-old boy? Howmuch has she contributed to his fuckedupness? I don’tunderstand her. And worse still, he says she helped him.How?I think of his scars, the stark physical embodiment of ahorrific childhood and a sickening reminder of what mentalscars he must bear. My sweet, sad Fifty Shades. He’s saidsuch loving things today. He’s crazy for me.Staring at my reflection, I smile at the memory of hiswords, my heart brimming once more, and my facetransforms with a ridiculous smile. Perhaps we can makethis work. But how long will he want to do this withoutwanting to beat the crap out of me because I cross somearbitrary line?My smile dissolves. This is what I don’t know. This isthe shadow that hangs over us. Kinky fuckery, yes, I cando that, but more?My subconscious stares at me blankly, for onceoffering no snarky words of wisdom. I head back to mybedroom to dress.Christian is downstairs getting ready, doing whateverhe’s doing, so I ha一ve the bedroom to myself. As well as allthe dresses in the closet, I ha一ve drawers full of newunderwear. I select a black bustier corset creation with aprice tag of five hundred forty dollars. It has silver trim likefiligree and the briefest of panties to match. Thigh-highstockings, too, in a natural color, so fine, pure silk. Wow,they feel . . . slinky . . . and kind of hot . . . yeah.I am reaching for the dress when Christian entersunannounced. Whoa, you could knock! He standsimmobilized, staring at me, gray eyes glimmering, hungrily.I blush crimson everywhere, it feels. He is wearing a whiteshirt and black suit pants, the neck of his shirt is open. Ican see the lipstick line still in place, and he’s still staring.“Can I help you, Mr. Grey? I assume there is somepurpose to your visit other than to gawk mindlessly at me.”“I am rather enjoying my mindless gawk, thank you,Miss Steele,” he murmurs darkly, stepping further into theroom and drinking me in. “Remind me to send a personalroom and drinking me in. “Remind me to send a personalnote of thanks to Caroline Acton.”I frown. Who the hell is she?“The personal shopper at Neiman’s,” he says, spookilyanswering my unspoken question.“Oh.”“I’m quite distracted.”“I can see that. What do you want, Christian?” I givehim my no-nonsense stare.He retaliates with his crooked smile and pulls the silverball egg-things from his pocket, stopping me in my tracks.Holy shit! He wants to spank me? Now? Why?“It’s not what you think,” he says quickly.“Enlighten me,” I whisper.“I thought you could wear these tonight.”And the implications of that sentence hang between usas the idea sinks in.“To this event?” I’m shocked.He nods slowly, his eyes darkening.Oh my.Oh my.“Will you spank me later?”“No.”For a moment, I feel a tiny fleeting stab ofdisappointment.He chuckles. “You want me to?”I swallow. I just don’t know.“Well, rest assured I am not going to touch you likethat, not even if you beg me.”Oh! This is news.“Do you want to play this game?” he continues, holdingup the balls. “You can always take them out if it’s toomuch.”I gaze at him. He looks so wickedly tempting—unkempt, recently fucked hair, dark eyes dancing witherotic thoughts, that beautiful sculptured mouth, lips raisedin a sexy, amused smile.“Okay,” I acquiesce softly. Hell, yes! My innergoddess has found her voice and is shouting from therooftops.“Good girl,” Christian grins. “Come here, and I’ll putthem in, once you’ve put your shoes on.”My shoes? I turn and glance at the dove gray suedestilettos that match the dress I’ve chosen to wear.Humor him! my inner goddess barks at me.He holds out his hand to support me while I step intothe Christian Louboutin shoes, a steal at three-thousandtwo hundred ninety-five dollars. I must be at least fiveinches taller now.He leads me to the bedside and doesn’t sit, but walksover to the only chair in the room. Picking it up, he carriesit over and places it in front of me.“When I nod, you bend down and hold on to the chair.Understand?” His voice is husky.“Yes.”“Good. Now open your mouth,” he orders, his voicestill low.I do as I’m told, thinking that he’s going to put the ballsin my mouth again to lubricate them. No, he slips his indexfinger in.finger in.Oh . . .“Suck,” he says. I reach up and clasp his hand, holdinghim steady, and do as I’m told—see, I can be obedient,when I want.He tastes of soap . . . hmm. I suck hard, and I’mrewarded when his eyes widen and his lips part as heinhales. I’m not going to need any lubricant at this rate. Heputs the balls in his mouth as I fellate his finger, twirling mytongue round it. When he tries to withdraw it, I clamp myteeth down.He grins then shakes his head, admonishing me, so I letgo. He nods, and I bend down and grasp the sides of thechair. He moves my panties to one side and very slowlyslides a finger into me, circling leisurely, so I feel him, on allsides. I can’t help the moan that escapes from my lips.He withdraws his finger briefly and with tender care,inserts the balls one at a time, pushing them deep insideme. Once they are in position, he smoothes my pantiesback into place and kisses my backside. Running his handsback into place and kisses my backside. Running his handsup each of my legs from ankle to thigh, he gently kisses thetop of each thigh where my hold-ups finish.“You ha一ve fine, fine legs, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.Standing, he grasps my hips and pulls my behindagainst him so I feel his erection.“Maybe I’ll ha一ve you this way when we get home,Anastasia. You can stand now.”I feel giddy, beyond aroused as the weight of the ballspush and pull inside me. Leaning down from behind meChristian kisses my shoulder.“I bought these for you to wear to last Saturday’sgala.” He puts his arm around me and holds out his hand.In his palm rests a small red box with Cartier inscribed onthe lid. “But you left me, so I never had the opportunity togive them to you.”Oh!“This is my second chance,” he murmurs, his voice stiffwith some unnamed emotion. He’s nervous.Tentatively, I reach for the box and open it. Insideshines a pair of drop earrings. Each has four diamonds,one at the base, then a gap, then three perfectly spaceddiamonds hanging one after the other. They’re beautiful,simple, and classic. What I would choose myself, if I wereever given the opportunity to shop at Cartier.“They’re lovely,” I whisper, and because they aresecond-chance earrings, I love them. “Thank you.”He relaxes against me as the tension lea一ves his body,and he kisses my shoulder again.“You’re wearing the silver satin dress?” he asks.“Yes? Is that okay?”“Of course. I’ll let you get ready.” He heads out thedoor without a backward glance.I ha一ve entered an alternate universe. The young womanstaring back at me looks worthy of a red carpet. Herstrapless, floor-length, silver satin gown is simply stunning.Maybe I’ll write to Caroline Acton myself. It’s fitted andflatters what little curves I ha一ve.flatters what little curves I ha一ve.My hair falls in soft wa一ves around my face, spillingover my shoulders to my breasts. I tuck one side behindmy ear, revealing my second-chance earrings. I ha一ve keptmy makeup to a minimum, a natural look. Eyeliner,mascara, a little pink blush, and pale pink lipstick.I don’t really need the blush. I am slightly flushed fromthe constant movement of the silver balls. Yes, they’llguarantee I ha一ve some color in my cheeks tonight. Shakingmy head at the audacity of Christian’s erotic ideas, I leandown to collect my satin wrap and silver clutch purse andgo in search of my Fifty Shades.He is talking to Taylor and three other men in thehallway, his back to me. Their surprised, appreciativeexpressions alert Christian to my presence. He turns as Istand and wait awkwardly.Holy cow! My mouth dries. He looks stunning . . .Black dinner suit, black bow tie, and his expression as hegazes at me is one of awe. He strolls toward me andkisses my hair.kisses my hair.“Anastasia. You look breathtaking.”I flush at this compliment in front of Taylor and theother men.“A glass of champagne before we go?”“Please,” I murmur, far too quickly.Christian nods to Taylor who heads into the foyer withhis three cohorts.In the great room, Christian retrieves a bottle ofchampagne from the fridge.“Security team?” I ask.“Close protection. They’re under Taylor’s control.He’s trained in that, too.” Christian hands me a champagneflute.“He’s very versatile.”“Yes, he is.” Christian smiles. “You look lovely,Anastasia. Cheers.” He raises his glass, and I clink it withmine. The champagne is a pale rose color. It tastesdeliciously crisp and light.“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes heated.“Fine, thank you.” I smile sweetly, giving nothing away,knowing full well he’s referring to the silver balls.He smirks at me.“Here, you’re going to need this.” He hands me a largevelvet pouch that was resting on the kitchen island. “Openit,” he says between sips of champagne. Intrigued, I reachinto the bag and pull out an intricate silver masquerademask with cobalt blue feathers in a plume crowning thetop.“It’s a masked ball,” he states matter-of-factly.“I see.” The mask is beautiful. A silver ribbon isthreaded around the edges and exquisite silver filigree isetched around the eyes.“This will show off your beautiful eyes, Anastasia.”I grin at him, shyly.“Are you wearing one?”“Of course. They’re very liberating in a way,” he adds,raising an eyebrow, and he smirks.Oh. This is going to be fun.“Come. I want to show you something.” Holding out“Come. I want to show you something.” Holding outhis hand, he leads me out into the hallway and to a doorbeside the stairs. He opens it, revealing a large roomroughly the same size as his playroom, which must bedirectly above us. This one is filled with books. Wow, alibrary, every wall crammed floor to ceiling. In the center isa full-size billiard table illuminated by a long triangularprism-shaped Tiffany lamp.“You ha一ve a library!” I squeak in awe, overwhelmedwith excitement.“Yes, the balls room as Elliot calls it. The apartment isquite spacious. I realized today, when you mentionedexploring, that I’ve never given you a tour. We don’t ha一vetime now, but I thought I’d show you this room, andmaybe challenge you to a game of billiards in the not-toodistantfuture.”I grin at him.“Bring it on.” I secretly hug myself with glee. José and Ibonded over pool. We’ve been playing for the last threeyears. I am ace with a cue. José has been a good teacher.years. I am ace with a cue. José has been a good teacher.“What?” Christian asks, amused.Oh! I really must stop expressing every emotion Ifeel the instant I feel it, I scold myself.“Nothing,” I say quickly.Christian narrows his eyes.“Well, maybe Doctor Flynn can uncover your secrets.You’ll meet him this evening.”“The expensive charlatan?” Holy shit.“The very same. He’s dying to meet you.”Christian takes my hand and gently skims his thumb acrossmy knuckles as we sit in the back of the Audi headingnorth. I squirm, and feel the sensation in my groin. I resistthe urge to moan, as Taylor is in the front, not wearing hisiPod, with one of the security guys whose name I think isSawyer.I am beginning to feel a dull, pleasurable ache deep inmy belly, caused by the balls. Idly, I wonder, how long willI be able to manage without some, um . . . relief? I crossmy legs. As I do, something that’s been niggling me in theback of my mind suddenly surfaces.“Where did you get the lipstick?” I ask Christianquietly.He smirks at me and points toward the front. “Taylor,”he mouths.I burst out laughing. “Oh.” And stop quickly—theballs.I bite my lip. Christian smiles at me, his eyes gleamingwickedly. He knows exactly what he’s doing, sexy beastthat he is.“Relax,” he breathes. “If it’s too much . . .” His voicetrails off, and he gently kisses each knuckle in turn, thengently sucks the tip of my little finger.Now I know he’s doing this on purpose. I close myeyes as dark desire unfolds throughout my body. Isurrender briefly to the sensation, my muscles clenchingdeep inside me. Oh my.When I open my eyes again, Christian is regarding meWhen I open my eyes again, Christian is regarding meclosely, a dark prince. It must be the dinner jacket andbow tie, but he looks older, sophisticated, a devastatinglyhandsome roué with licentious intent.He simply takes my breath away. I’m in his sexualthrall, and if I’m to believe him, he’s in mine. The thoughtbrings a smile to my face, and his answering grin isblinding.“So what can we expect at this event?”“Oh, the usual stuff,” Christian says breezily.“Not usual for me,” I remind him.Christian smiles fondly and kisses my hand again. “Lotsof people flashing their cash. Auction, raffle, dinner,dancing—my mother knows how to throw a party.” Hesmiles and for the first time all day, I allow myself to feel alittle excited about this party.There is a line of expensive cars heading up thedriveway of the Grey mansion. Long, pale pink paperlanterns hang over the drive, and as we inch closer in theAudi, I can see they are everywhere. In the early eveningAudi, I can see they are everywhere. In the early eveninglight, they look magical, as if we’re entering an enchantedkingdom. I glance at Christian. How suitable for my prince—and my childish excitement blooms, eclipsing all otherfeelings.“Masks on,” Christian grins, and as he dons his simpleblack mask, my prince becomes something darker, moresensual.All I can see of his face is his beautiful chiseled mouthand strong jaw.Holy fuck . . . My heartbeat lurches at the sight of him.I fasten my mask and grin at him, ignoring the hunger deepin my body.Taylor pulls into the driveway, and a valet opensChristian’s door. Sawyer leaps out to open mine.“Ready?” Christian asks.“As I’ll ever be.”“You look beautiful, Anastasia.” He kisses my handand exits the car.A dark green carpet runs along the lawn to one side ofthe house, leading to the impressive grounds at the rear.Christian has a protective arm around me, resting his handon my waist, as we follow the green carpet with a steadystream of Seattle’s elite dressed in their finery and wearingall manner of masks the lanterns lighting the way. Twophotographers marshal guests to pose for pictures againstthe backdrop of an ivy-strewn arbor.“Mr. Grey!” one of the photographers calls. Christiannods in acknowledgement and pulls me close as we posequickly for a photo. How do they know it’s him? Histrademark, unruly copper hair no doub一t.“Two photographers?” I ask Christian.“One is from the Seattle Times; the other is for asouvenir. We’ll be able to buy a copy later.”Oh, my picture in the press again. Leila briefly entersmy mind. This is how she found me, posing with Christian.The thought is unsettling, though it’s comforting that I amunrecognizable beneath my mask.At the end of the line, white-suited servers hold traysof glasses brimming with champagne, and I’m gratefulof glasses brimming with champagne, and I’m gratefulwhen Christian passes me a glass—effectively distractingme from my dark thoughts.We approach a large white pergola hung with smallerversions of the paper lanterns. Beneath it, shines a blackand white checkered dance floor surrounded by a lowfence with entrances on three sides. At each entrancestand two elaborate ice sculptures of swans. The fourthside of the pergola is occupied by a stage where a stringquartet is playing softly, a haunting, ethereal piece I don’trecognize. The stage looks set for a big band but asthere’s no sign of the musicians yet. I figure this must befor later. Taking my hand, Christian leads me betweenswans onto the dance floor where the other guests arecongregating, chatting over glasses of champagne.Toward the shoreline stands an enormous marquee,open on the side nearest to us so I can glimpse theformally arranged tables and chairs. There are so many!“How many people are coming?” I ask Christian,thrown by the scale of the marquee.thrown by the scale of the marquee.“I think about three hundred. You’ll ha一ve to ask mymother.” He smiles down at me, and maybe it’s because Ican only see his smile that lights up his face, but my innergoddess swoons.“Christian!”A young woman appears out of the throng and throwsher arms around his neck, and immediately I know it’sMia. She’s dressed in a sleek, pale pink, full-length chiffongown with a stunning, delicately detailed Venetian mask tomatch. She looks amazing. And for a moment, I ha一venever felt so grateful for the dress Christian has given me.“Ana! Oh, darling, you look gorgeous!” She gives mea quick hug. “You must come and meet my friends. Noneof them can believe that Christian finally has a girlfriend.”I shoot a quick panicked glance at Christian, whoshrugs in a resigned I-know-she’s-impossible-I-had-tolive-with-her-for-years way, and let Mia lead me over to agroup of four young women, all expensively attired andimpeccably groomed.Mia makes hasty introductions. Three of them aresweet and kind, but Lily, I think her name is, regards mesourly from beneath her red mask.“Of course we all thought Christian was gay,” she sayssnidely, concealing her rancor with a large, fake smile.Mia pouts at her.“Lily, beha一ve yourself. It’s obvious he has excellenttaste in women. He was waiting for the right one to comealong, and it wasn’t you!”Lily blushes the same color as her mask, as do I.Could this be any more uncomfortable?“Ladies, if I could claim my date back, please?”Snaking his arm around my waist, Christian pulls me to hisside. All four women flush, grin and fidget, his dazzlingsmile doing what it always does. Mia glances at me androlls her eyes, and I ha一ve to laugh.“Lovely to meet you,” I say as he drags me away.“Thank you,” I mouth at Christian when we’re somedistance away.“I saw that Lily was with Mia. She is one nasty piece“I saw that Lily was with Mia. She is one nasty pieceof work.”“She likes you,” I mutter dryly.He shudders. “Well, the feeling is not mutual. Come,let me introduce you to some people.”I spend the next half hour in a whirlwind ofintroductions. I meet two Hollywood actors, two moreCEOs, and several eminent physicians. Holy shit . . .there is no way I am going to remember everyone’sname.Christian keeps me close at his side, and I’m grateful.Frankly, the wealth, the glamour, and the sheer la一vish scaleof the event intimidates me. I ha一ve never been to anythinglike this in my life.