Chapter 19

He walks me backwards, slowly and into the bedroom until I feel the bed behind me. He drops more kisses on my heated skin, everywhere except my mouth. My lips part as the soft moans escape, I’m eager for him to swallow them.

I become aware of the distance between us, his body is bowed forward, worshipping mine with surprisingly chaste kisses but nothing else is in contact. I glimpse my sanity for a small second and reach up to pull him closer. Lightning fast hands move to restrain me, catching both wrists and folding them away, securely behind my back.

“If you touch me this will all be over way too quickly.” His gravely mutter ensures my sanity’s full disappearance and a creaminess between my legs.

“Aaahh, please touch me,” the need in my whisper is akin to begging. Boy, it doesn’t take much for me to become a needy mess.

“Tell me what you want Ana.” Nothing makes me hotter than his seductive voice commanding, coaching or teasing me, just hearing it sends a powerful shiver vibrating through me.

As my nipples contract into tiny hard points of longing I struggle against his hold. “I want you.”

His grip flexes and tightens and then he smiles against my chest. “I was hoping for some specifics but you know how much I like it when you resist me.”  His voice is low, almost humming as he wipes his sandy stubble softly around my breasts, insolently – as if he knows that I can’t break free and make him go where I want him to.

I struggle some more, this time a little harder, putting the weight of my body behind it and decide to play him at his own game. “I want you to lick me.” I speak slowly, enunciating every syllable.  “Lick my nipples and bite them – hard.”

He sucks in a hard breath that I reward with another attempt to free my hands. “I want your hand to trail down my breasts, my belly and find out how ready I am for you.” Even to my own ears I sound husky, deprived.

Frustratingly, he’s still fully dressed. He doesn’t let go of my hands but his hot mouth finds the tight bud on my breast. He flicks his tongue over it and blows softly so it’s as taut as it will go only to leave it and move on to its twin. I mewl my protest and arch my back, offering them to him.

A hungry growl lets me know that I’m on the right track. He nips at the tip, just enough to drive my desire deeper. “Take off your shirt; I want to see you.”

He leaves just enough space between us for him to undo each of his buttons and the sight of his gaze traveling the length of my body is so sexy that I temporarily forget to resist his hard grip.

He tugs his shirt off his shoulder and then deftly switches hands so as not to break his hold on my arms and to shrug off the other sleeve. I take my cue and thrash about, knowing that I’m in the power of his weaker hand now.

I break free, turn to make a run for it but of course I’m way too slow. Like a supple panther he pounces, capturing me around my waist and flings me onto the bed, face down. My excited squeal is followed by his growl, “arms up!” He stalks after me, over my back to secure me with the entire length of his firm body.

I immediately comply, stretching my arms above my head and grabbing hold of the ornate metal spokes in the headboard. Blood is pounding in my ears, the flush of arousal glowing on my skin. “Good girl.” His breath is coming as quick as mine.

One denim clad knee is pushing up between my legs and it’s mate is resting just outside my thigh. His weight is supported on his elbows so that he’s close to me. I feel him moving and hovering over my back, mere inches away but he doesn’t make contact. The sensation is sublime; I feel his breath on me as well as the aura of energy and heat radiating from him. Every sense I have is screaming for attention but he’s luxuriating in torturing me.

I writhe underneath him, pushing my sex against his knee to entice him. “Please, I want to feel you stretch me.”

Another low hum from his throat has tingles racing wildly up and down my spine. His tongue traces the goose bumps on my back and one hand snakes beneath me, finding my wet folds and the swollen parts therein. The sensation rocks through my body and I cry out his name.

“Let me hear you baby.” It’s a hoarse whisper close to my ear before he sinks a long finger into me.

“Christian please, I need you.” I’m way past being too shy to plead.

“You never disappoint Anastasia, feel how wet you are for me.” He rubs my slickness between my folds and over my clitoris then pulls his hand from underneath me. I hear rather than see him brush his wet hand past his nose, inhaling deeply. “I love the way you smell.”

Every muscle I have contracts deliciously, urgently, greedily. I feel him fumble at my behind and I’m relieved when I realise he’s undoing his fly. “Don’t let go baby,” he reminds me gruffly.

I mewl once more from desperation and grind my sex into his knee. “Hold on baby, not long to go.” Strong hands bracket my hips and lift them up so I’m on my knees with my butt in the air. My chest is flat on the bed; hands still gripping the headboard like my life depends on it. His breathless words of encouragement only make me want him more.

I feel him position himself at my entrance where he gently rubs his erection along the slippery length of me. “You are so beautiful.” His fingers flex around my hips and then he slams into me, the force rocking me forward.

“Yyyyeeessss!” the sound is ripped from my throat, raw and unedited.

He swivels his hips before withdrawing and tunnelling back in. My lids fall heavy over my eyes, a sheen of perspiration slicks my skin as my body welcomes the stretch. His hand skates around my hip and onto my sex. His skilled fingers drawing small circles on my clitoris, matching it with the rhythm in his long, measured strokes.

In no time at all the desire’s escalated to a knife’s edge, his command cutting the bonds holding back my release, “come for me baby!” And I do, loud and wet and joyously, right along with him.

We collapse on the bed, him on top of me. He rains reverential kisses on my neck, my cheek and my temple while he gently kneads my shoulders and upper arms now that I’ve released the headboard.

“We’re going to kill each other.” I mumble sleepily. I’ve already lost count of the past ten hours orgasms.

I feel his grin against my face, “I hope so Anastasia, I hope so.” After a beat he adds, more gently this time, “we have a lot to make up for.”

He rolls off me, “turn around baby.” I do so under duress, my body heavy and lazy in its sated state. He lifts his buttocks and rids himself of his jeans. I giggle at how hot we get for each other, not even enough time to get undressed properly.

“Something amusing you baby?” his cocked brow and devastating smile tells me he knows why I’m so giggly. He sits up and straddles my waist, a devilish smile kissing his lips as he clocks my shocked reaction – again? “Relax, I’ll give you a moment to recover,” he teases. “I just wanted to do your front.” With that he leans forward and massages the front of my shoulders and down my arms.

As always his touch is heavenly and made more so by the fact that my heart is so filled with love for him that it hurts. I guess he sees it in my eyes because he stops his kneading and just stares back at me. “I. Love. You.” I say without any reservation, pouring my whole soul into the statement.

His eyes turn a dark slate and he swallows hard. He holds up open palms for me to take and I willingly thread my hands through his. “And I love you Anastasia. So much that it doesn’t seem enough just to say it.”

His body bows over mine, like in prayer and his mouth finds mine. A gentle, slow and deep kiss that underscores his words perfectly. As the kiss grows longer he straightens himself, along my length. I part my legs for him to settle into. The burning sensuality of it curls and twists around my body and in my very being. Moments later our bodies join again in a slow and exquisite dance to nirvana.

He doesn’t allow a break in our precious contact for even a second; his pace remains adoring, as if he’s afraid that harsh movement will shatter the spell. Our hands are still clasped together above my head. It’s just the two of us, revelling in our possession of each other, entwined in love.

Because of his leisurely pace my orgasm sneaks up on me. My only warning is Christian’s subtle change in tempo before it tears though me with a violence that stuns my senses. My primal scream is straight into his mouth still slanted over mine.

A beat later he pulses inside me, jerking his own ecstasy before banding his arms around me in a way that makes me sure that he’ll never let go.

Holy hell! If I thought that Christian and I have made love before, I was wrong.

That has to be one of the single most intense and fulfilling moments of my life. It’s turned me inside out, stripped me bare. Woven an irrevocable connection that I’ll carry with me for as long as I live.

“Thank you.” More words that seem inadequate but I’m compelled to say something, I feel the need to acknowledge it somehow.

“We aim to please.” His reply is quiet, spoken into my neck but the undertone has the same awe that I’m overcome with. Both of us deeply affected.

He untangles himself from me and curls up, resting his head low on my belly. His arm flung over my hips and my hand forages in his hair, stroking the silky strands. We lie in a contented silence, for now, too open to talk.

Christian is the first to voice the depth of his emotion and his whispered words strike me as immeasurably significant, “I’m glad you’re back.” It holds volumes of the last five year’s yearnings.

Following the experience we just shared, it brings every choking feeling rushing to the surface, gripping me with a cruel and twisting, suffocating guilt.

Christian instantly senses the dark turn in my emotion, “hush baby,” he hugs me closer, “don’t do that.”

Hot tears trip down, dripping onto the pillow while I grind my teeth against the pain, holding back the swell of the tide threatening to swamp me. I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to.

Long minutes pass where I focus solely on finding my recent joy. I get a strong sense that I won’t be able to process this on my own. As soon as I can, I’ll find someone – a councillor or a therapist – someone to help me work through these issues. I refuse to let them wreak more havoc in our lives. I’m not going to wait for Christian to keep me to the letter of our contract, I’ll do it without prompting because that’s how I’ll save us from me.

I’m grateful for Christian’s instinctive sense. He just holds me, reassuringly. He’s quiet strength and support unspoken but no less evident. When my mood begins to lift I see his shoulders release their strain and I realise how worried he is for my wellbeing.

Eager to get us back onto safer ground he swipes a hand over my pubic bone and cups my sex, “I like this.”

I giggle, a rose flush blooming over my skin. I’m relieved that he’s playful, not drilling me about why I’m freshly waxed. It dawns on me that hearing what I said to Dr Shawn last night might have laid that ghost to rest.

“Did it hurt?”

“The wax? It was torture!” I mumble and fling my arm over my eyes, deeply shy but I’ve come to understand that these are exactly the type of conversations he likes to have with me, intrusively intimate, eager to feed on every minute detail about me. I humour him – grudgingly.

“I’m sorry.” He says grinning and plants a soft kiss on my lips as though it were my mouth.

Jeez! Shivers chase each other up my spine, bringing heat to the surface and stoke my rosy glow into a full, fiery blush.

He chuckles quietly to himself. “I love that blush.” His pushed himself up, resting on his elbows so he can get a better look and I groan in response, beginning to feel desperate for a sheet to cover my nakedness. The room is filled with glorious natural light, not even a shadow to hide in. I’m not brave enough to watch him so I screw my eyes tight.

He runs a finger along the pink scar that tells the tale of Chris’ birth. “And this, did this hurt?” the playful tone is all but gone, a new sombre note sounding in its place.

“No, not really. It hurt much more that I couldn’t share it with you.” That oppressive tightness is back in my chest, making my breath falter.

“Maybe it’s a good thing I wasn’t there. I had your medical records pulled after you told my folks about Chris’ birth the other day.” Now it’s his turn to avoid my gaze as I lift my head, shocked that he has access to private medical information. His stalking knows no bounds!

“The report says that things were pretty shaky there for a while, that both of you were in grave danger.” He rests his head on my belly, looking into the distance. He anchors an arm around my waist, securing himself to me. “I don’t know how I would’ve handled that.”

I lie back again and brush my fingertips over his shoulder and the part of his back that I can reach. I enjoy the inherently manly combination of hard muscle under velvet skin while I try to bring him back to me. “It wasn’t as bad as that.” Was it?

But when I think of overprotective, anxious Fifty, I know that it would’ve been pure hell for him. “I had a great doctor and we’re fine – fit and healthy. A little scar and a beautiful son to show for it.” Hopefully he can hear my smile.

He turns to me, lifting his head off my body to find my eyes. “The report also said that there was no permanent damage and that you should be able to conceive again.”

“Uhm…. yes. Ah, it’s not something I’ve really thought about.” I say dryly. A sibling for Chris has never been on the agenda. I always knew that no man would ever take Christian’s place so there was little point in thinking about the possibility.

He narrows his eyes at me, searching for I’m not sure what then drops the subject. “Your body has changed.” He unfolds himself so that his head is next to mine and he’s lying on his side.

I suck in some air, on the verge of mortification again. Is that good or bad?

An expert hand sweeps slowly over the swell of my breasts, “these are so full and lush.”

The slavish response of my body pushes my shoulders back to make them even bigger and Christian groans his appreciation before he buries his head between them.

I close my eyes and clasp him to my chest. I can already feel his adoration bringing me out of my shell. I want to be attractive for him. I want to bring him every joy – I want to be his everything.

“I thought you were an ass-man Mr Grey.” I tease him to lighten the mood that suddenly feels very heavy again.

He looks up, amusement sparking in his hooded gaze, “I’m an Anastasia man.” He grumbles. He pinches a hopeful nipple and drops a kiss on his faded signature that’s still scrawled across my chest. “And I like this,” he says looking at his bold script and tracing it with his finger. “Maybe I should get a tattoo artist in here and make it permanent. Mark you so every man will know that you belong to me.”

I’m not sure if he’s joking or not so I giggle nervously before I remember the way he did mark me. I hold up my hand. “You did mark me.” Beaming, I show him his diamond promise on my ring finger and kiss it. “It shows the world that I’m yours. That’s what I came to say to you before I was so rudely interrupted in the lounge.” I kiss his full mouth. “Thank you Christian.”

I fully expect him to devour me again but he’s too keen to get my feedback, “so you like it?” it’s a timid question – showing me the shy boyish side of him that’s so eager to please.

“Apart from the fact that it’s stunning, it’s from you. I love it like I love you.” I roll onto my side to look at him; I want to show him how serious I am.

His smile is broad and lights his eyes with sheer joy, all I can do is mirror it straight back. We’re two, grinning lunatics – besotted.

“Did you see the inscription?” he sees my surprise and tenderly takes my hand, slipping the ring off my finger. Something in the mischievous curve of his mouth tells me that it’s not going to be conventional. He holds it up for me to read and I see a single word, a word that sums up our entire relationship and everything we feel for one another:

Mine.

It has deep and personal significance for us. Something that we whispered to each other on so many occasions. I love that it works both ways, I’m his and he is mine but also the ring belongs to me, as the wearer it is mine – a symbol of my commitment to him and the right I gave up when I promised I would never again leave the relationship.

Tears of joy begin to shimmer in my eyes then spill quietly down my cheeks. “It’s perfect.” My voice is trembling with wonder. I hold out my hand for him to return it to its rightful place, our gazes locked and awed at the naked emotion overflowing from within. Our arms and legs intuitively wrap us in a full body embrace, crushing in its intensity.

How can one girl be this lucky – or happy?

He’s given me so much – again! I’m getting that same feeling of being overwhelmed by his incredible generosity and the sheer size of our connection but I stop myself. I’m not going to go down that road again so I decide to change the way I handle it. Instead of feeling unworthy I’ll give him something in return.

I tighten my grip, pulling him even closer to me, “I want you to know that I have changed – am changing. I want to be exactly what you need, every day for the rest of our lives. I still have a lot of things that I need to deal with so I’ll be seeing a therapist or something from now on, as long as it takes.”

He pulls away, his face is drawn with lines of concern, “Anastasia, you are what I need.” He runs his hand through my hair and tucks it back, behind my ear.

“Please don’t worry,” I kiss the V of his frown. “I have to; I don’t want to doubt what we have because I’m insecure. I said I would in the contract but I just wanted to tell you that I’m doing it because I don’t want to screw this up.”

His concern melts away and he kisses the tip of my nose, “okay.” He hugs me again and tucks me into the crook of his arm while he lies on his back. I snuggle my head on his chest, my emotional balance restored.

Wow, I think. It’s been quite a morning. Emotional and physically demanding and it’s only 11:00am. I suddenly realise how hungry I am.

“You’re hungry,” he says, “let me feed you baby.” He reads my mind and gives me a smile that leaves my belly feeling like a giant flock of birds just flew through it.

We don the obligatory white hotel robes and hold hands walking to the breakfast trolley in the dining area. I smile at the thought of it standing here for the last two hours – ignored.

Christian sees my smile and answers it looking a little sheepish, “I can get them to send up a fresh one if you like.”

“NO! I’m too hungry to wait. Thank you.” I say again and push myself up on my toes to give him a peck on his cheek. He looks ridiculously pleased.

We talk while we eat and even though the pancakes and bacon is cold, it’s delicious.

“Can I ask you something?” I can’t help feeling a slight nervous hesitation.

He pins me with a dark look, “are you trying to make my palm twitch Anastasia? I told you, anything and everything is on the table, up for discussion.”

I suck in a shocked breath and blush hard and fast, a brilliant scarlet. “Uhm… no… I’m sorry.” My gaze drops to my plate and in true submissive style I bow my head – contrite.

It’s Christian’s turn to be stunned and when me speaks my sex clenches violently in recollection of some very pleasant memories. “I see you haven’t forgotten your place.”

Suddenly the atmosphere around us is charged with a wicked sexual energy like just before a thunder storm and I risk a peek at him to see if he feels it too.

His watch is Dominant Christian’s – hot, severe, commanding but most of all hungry.

Holy shit that’s smokin’!

I’m doe eyed, trapped in his stare and bite down on my lip, powerless against the fresh desire licking at my groin. I’m taken aback with how much I’ve missed my Dom.

The moment he swipes his thumb over my lower lip to free it his watch cools and he finds himself again. With a tiny shake of his head the Dom disappears. When he sees my confusion and hurt at being rejected he quickly explains, “this is still too new baby.” He reaches for my arm and pulls me onto his lap. “We have plenty of time; let’s get to know each other again before we start with the kinky fuckery.” Both his hands rake though my hair, holding my head in place. Sincere eyes are boring into mine.

When I don’t reply he continues, “It’s been too long for me Anastasia and the last time I played the Dom I was furious. We both know that’s not what you want.”

I feel the blood slipping from my body, turning my skin unusually pale. I concentrate on a spot on his chest and absentmindedly tunnel my hand under the sleeve of his gown to stroke his arm.

“I need to regain my control. Last night and this morning just proved how being with you just demolishes it.” He flicks his hand through the air in a shooing motion.

I know I shouldn’t, but being the reason for Christian’s loss of sexual control makes me feel ecstatically happy. I hide my euphoria by hugging him but inside I’m bubbling with joy.

Clearly he hasn’t lost all control, I just watched him slip seamlessly from Dom to calm in a matter of seconds.

I’m grateful that he hugs me back – fiercely. When he pushes me back he narrows his eyes at me and I choose to play dumb, batting my eyes in my best disarming manner.

He grins a knowing smile and shakes his head, “so, what did you want to ask me?”

So no sex at all then, not even vanilla? My inner goddess is disappointed.

Now I turn sombre, “why did you stop seeing Flynn?”

For a beat his eyes flash his anger before he recovers and looks away to shield me from it but his cadence can’t hide his sarcasm. “You mean apart from the obvious?”

His not so veiled reference to my leaving hits me like a punch in the gut.

Seeing my reaction he softens his tone and runs a hand over his face, “with no one in my life to improve for, it seemed pointless.” I watch him warring with himself as he considers his next words carefully, “you healed me of so many things, things that years of therapy never managed but you left me with a wound that I knew could never be mended.”

I’m still sitting on his lap. Both my hands fly to cover my face; with all my might I try to withstand the barrage of my storming tears while I shake with the force of my regret.

“Hush baby.” Immediately he crushes me to him, my head under his chin and bracing me with both strong arms. “I didn’t say that to wound you and when I told you to stop feeling guilty, I meant it but I want you to be absolutely clear on how hard our separation was for me.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry.” I whimper, wailing uncontrollably into his chest.

He strokes my hair and whispers soothing things to me until I’m composed enough to stop weeping.

I keep my head on his chest, too embarrassed to face him, I must look a mess. Crazy sex hair with red, blotchy skin and wet eyes. I fumble around my brain for something unrelated to talk about. I inhale a stuttering breath before I change the subject. “I didn’t know you had business in Vegas.”

He stills and I can sense the tension hardening his body, “I don’t.”

“Oh. It’s just this morning, when I came into the lounge, you were talking about Vegas so I thought…” I shrug, not too bothered either way but wondering why he’s suddenly on edge.

“That wasn’t business Anastasia, it was pleasure.” Something in the way he says this grabs my attention and I sit up, my eyes latch onto his where I catch his guarded look. For some reason my pulse is jumping madly and my belly flips nervously, what secret will he reveal that has him connected to “Sin City?”

Do I really want to know?

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” My teeth work ferociously at my lip and I dip my eyes, fiddling with the belt of my robe.

When he chuckles my face stings with shame. He tips my head up and I’m a little relieved that his grey gaze is kind. He saves my lip from my teeth and his words are amused, “frankly I’m a little surprised that you haven’t figured it out.”

Huh?

I draw a blank and my baby blues bat questioningly at him, still at a loss.

He takes a steadying breath, focus carefully trained on me, “Anastasia, I’m stealing you away to get married tonight – in Vegas.”

Be kind and review, please.

Link to chapter 20