She fists her hands and tilts her head back and moans.
Yes.
“Please,” she pleads between gritted teeth.
I hear you, baby.
Laying her back down on the bed, I stretch out over her, supporting my weight on my elbows, and I follow the rhythm, thrusting into her and losing myself in her and the music.
Sweet, brave Ana.
Sweat glides down my back.
Come on, baby.
Please.
And finally she explodes around me, shouting out her release and pushing me into an intense, draining climax where I lose all sense of self. I collapse on top of her as my world shifts and realigns, leaving that unfamiliar emotion swirling in my chest, consuming me.
I shake my head, trying to chase away the ominous and confusing feeling. Reaching up, I grab the remote and switch off the music.
No more Tallis.
The music definitely contributed to what was almost a religious experience. I frown, attempting but failing to get a handle on my feelings. I slide out of Ana and stretch to release her from each cuff.
She sighs as she flexes her fingers, and gently I remove the blindfold and the earbuds.
Big blue eyes blink up at me.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi, yourself,” she says, playful and bashful. Her response is delightful and, leaning down, I plant a tender kiss on her lips.
“Well done, you.” My voice is filled with pride.
She did it. She took it. She took it all.
“Turn over.”
Her eyes widen in alarm.
“I’m just going to rub your shoulders.”
“Oh, okay.”
She rolls over and flops down on the bed with her eyes closed. I sit astride her and massage her shoulders.
A pleasurable rumble resonates deep in her throat.
“What was that music?” she asks.
“It’s called Spem in Alium, a forty-part motet by Thomas Tallis.”
“It was…overwhelming.”
“I’ve always wanted to fuck to it.”
“Not another first, Mr. Grey?”
I grin. “Indeed, Miss Steele.”
“Well, it’s the first time I’ve fucked to it, too,” she says, her voice betraying her fatigue.
“You and I, we’re giving each other many firsts.”
“What did I say to you in my sleep, Chris—er, Sir?”
Not this again. Put her out of her misery, Grey.
“You said lots of things, Anastasia. You talked about cages and strawberries. That you wanted more, and that you missed me.”
“Is that all?” She sounds relieved.
Why would she be relieved?
I stretch out beside her so I can see her face.
“What did you think you’d said?”
She opens her eyes for a brief moment, and shuts them again quickly.
“That I thought you were ugly, conceited, and that you were hopeless in bed.” One blue eye peeks open and watches me warily.
Oh…she’s lying.
“Well, naturally I am all those things, and now you’ve got me really intrigued. What are you hiding from me, Miss Steele?”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Anastasia, you’re a hopeless liar.”
“I thought you were going to make me giggle after sex; this isn’t doing it for me.”
Her answer is unexpected, and I give her a reluctant smile. “I can’t tell jokes,” I confess.
“Mr. Grey! Something you can’t do?” She rewards me with a broad, infectious grin.
“No, hopeless joke teller,” I say, as if it’s a badge of honor.
She giggles. “I’m a hopeless joke teller, too.”
“That is such a lovely sound,” I whisper, and kiss her. But I still want to know why she’s relieved. “And you are hiding something, Anastasia. I may have to torture it out of you.”
“Ha!” The space between us is filled with her laughter. “I think you’ve done enough torturing.”
Her response wipes the smile off my face, and her expression softens immediately. “Maybe I’ll let you torture me like that again,” she says coyly.
Relief sweeps through me. “I’d like that very much, Miss Steele.”
“We aim to please, Mr. Grey.”
“You’re okay?” I ask, humbled and anxious at once.
“More than okay.” She gives me her timid smile.
“You’re amazing.” I kiss her forehead, then climb off the bed as that ominous feeling ripples through me once more. Shaking it off, I button my fly and hold out my hand to help her off the bed. When she’s standing I pull her into my arms and kiss her, savoring her taste.
“Bed,” I mutter, and lead her to the door. There I wrap her in the bathrobe she’s left hanging on the peg, and before she can protest I pick her up and carry her downstairs to my bedroom.
“I’m so tired,” she mumbles once she’s in my bed.
“Sleep now,” I whisper, and wrap her in my arms. I close my eyes, fighting the disquieting sensation that surges and fills my chest once more. It’s like homesickness and a homecoming rolled into one…and it’s terrifying.
SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 2011
The summer breeze teases my hair, its caress the nimble fingers of a lover.
My lover.
Ana.
I wake suddenly, confused. My bedroom is shrouded in darkness, and beside me Ana sleeps, her breathing gentle and even. I prop myself up on one elbow and run my hand through my hair, with the uncanny feeling that someone has just done exactly that. I glance around the room, peering into the shadowy corners, but Ana and I are alone.
Strange. I could swear someone was here. Someone touched me.
It was just a dream.
I shake off the disturbing thought and check the time. It’s after 4:30 in the morning. As I flop back down onto my pillow, Ana mumbles an incoherent word and turns over to face me, still fast asleep. She looks serene and beautiful.
I stare at the ceiling, the flashing light of the smoke alarm taunting me once more. We have no contract. Yet Ana’s here. Beside me. What does this mean? How am I supposed to deal with her? Will she abide by my rules? I need to know that she’s safe. I rub my face. This is uncharted territory for me; it’s out of my control, and it’s unsettling.
Leila pops into my mind.
Shit.
My mind races: Leila, work, Ana…and I know I won’t get back to sleep. Getting up, I pull on some PJ pants, close the bedroom door, and head into the living room to my piano.
Yes.
“Please,” she pleads between gritted teeth.
I hear you, baby.
Laying her back down on the bed, I stretch out over her, supporting my weight on my elbows, and I follow the rhythm, thrusting into her and losing myself in her and the music.
Sweet, brave Ana.
Sweat glides down my back.
Come on, baby.
Please.
And finally she explodes around me, shouting out her release and pushing me into an intense, draining climax where I lose all sense of self. I collapse on top of her as my world shifts and realigns, leaving that unfamiliar emotion swirling in my chest, consuming me.
I shake my head, trying to chase away the ominous and confusing feeling. Reaching up, I grab the remote and switch off the music.
No more Tallis.
The music definitely contributed to what was almost a religious experience. I frown, attempting but failing to get a handle on my feelings. I slide out of Ana and stretch to release her from each cuff.
She sighs as she flexes her fingers, and gently I remove the blindfold and the earbuds.
Big blue eyes blink up at me.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi, yourself,” she says, playful and bashful. Her response is delightful and, leaning down, I plant a tender kiss on her lips.
“Well done, you.” My voice is filled with pride.
She did it. She took it. She took it all.
“Turn over.”
Her eyes widen in alarm.
“I’m just going to rub your shoulders.”
“Oh, okay.”
She rolls over and flops down on the bed with her eyes closed. I sit astride her and massage her shoulders.
A pleasurable rumble resonates deep in her throat.
“What was that music?” she asks.
“It’s called Spem in Alium, a forty-part motet by Thomas Tallis.”
“It was…overwhelming.”
“I’ve always wanted to fuck to it.”
“Not another first, Mr. Grey?”
I grin. “Indeed, Miss Steele.”
“Well, it’s the first time I’ve fucked to it, too,” she says, her voice betraying her fatigue.
“You and I, we’re giving each other many firsts.”
“What did I say to you in my sleep, Chris—er, Sir?”
Not this again. Put her out of her misery, Grey.
“You said lots of things, Anastasia. You talked about cages and strawberries. That you wanted more, and that you missed me.”
“Is that all?” She sounds relieved.
Why would she be relieved?
I stretch out beside her so I can see her face.
“What did you think you’d said?”
She opens her eyes for a brief moment, and shuts them again quickly.
“That I thought you were ugly, conceited, and that you were hopeless in bed.” One blue eye peeks open and watches me warily.
Oh…she’s lying.
“Well, naturally I am all those things, and now you’ve got me really intrigued. What are you hiding from me, Miss Steele?”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Anastasia, you’re a hopeless liar.”
“I thought you were going to make me giggle after sex; this isn’t doing it for me.”
Her answer is unexpected, and I give her a reluctant smile. “I can’t tell jokes,” I confess.
“Mr. Grey! Something you can’t do?” She rewards me with a broad, infectious grin.
“No, hopeless joke teller,” I say, as if it’s a badge of honor.
She giggles. “I’m a hopeless joke teller, too.”
“That is such a lovely sound,” I whisper, and kiss her. But I still want to know why she’s relieved. “And you are hiding something, Anastasia. I may have to torture it out of you.”
“Ha!” The space between us is filled with her laughter. “I think you’ve done enough torturing.”
Her response wipes the smile off my face, and her expression softens immediately. “Maybe I’ll let you torture me like that again,” she says coyly.
Relief sweeps through me. “I’d like that very much, Miss Steele.”
“We aim to please, Mr. Grey.”
“You’re okay?” I ask, humbled and anxious at once.
“More than okay.” She gives me her timid smile.
“You’re amazing.” I kiss her forehead, then climb off the bed as that ominous feeling ripples through me once more. Shaking it off, I button my fly and hold out my hand to help her off the bed. When she’s standing I pull her into my arms and kiss her, savoring her taste.
“Bed,” I mutter, and lead her to the door. There I wrap her in the bathrobe she’s left hanging on the peg, and before she can protest I pick her up and carry her downstairs to my bedroom.
“I’m so tired,” she mumbles once she’s in my bed.
“Sleep now,” I whisper, and wrap her in my arms. I close my eyes, fighting the disquieting sensation that surges and fills my chest once more. It’s like homesickness and a homecoming rolled into one…and it’s terrifying.
SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 2011
The summer breeze teases my hair, its caress the nimble fingers of a lover.
My lover.
Ana.
I wake suddenly, confused. My bedroom is shrouded in darkness, and beside me Ana sleeps, her breathing gentle and even. I prop myself up on one elbow and run my hand through my hair, with the uncanny feeling that someone has just done exactly that. I glance around the room, peering into the shadowy corners, but Ana and I are alone.
Strange. I could swear someone was here. Someone touched me.
It was just a dream.
I shake off the disturbing thought and check the time. It’s after 4:30 in the morning. As I flop back down onto my pillow, Ana mumbles an incoherent word and turns over to face me, still fast asleep. She looks serene and beautiful.
I stare at the ceiling, the flashing light of the smoke alarm taunting me once more. We have no contract. Yet Ana’s here. Beside me. What does this mean? How am I supposed to deal with her? Will she abide by my rules? I need to know that she’s safe. I rub my face. This is uncharted territory for me; it’s out of my control, and it’s unsettling.
Leila pops into my mind.
Shit.
My mind races: Leila, work, Ana…and I know I won’t get back to sleep. Getting up, I pull on some PJ pants, close the bedroom door, and head into the living room to my piano.
