Sexy Saturday Fifty Fans ..it is the time with our Weekly Fanfiction Recommendation..As we mentioned last week , We decided to do a weekly fanfiction recommendation blog post. Each Saturday we’ll recommend a piece of Fifty Shades fanfiction. We are going to post Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy from Christian’s POV. Last week ,We posted the two chapter from Christian’s POV , the ones E.L.James put at the end of ‘Fifty Shades Freed’ , today we are going to post Chapter 3 , a fanfiction of course..it was written by a fan by Eminethe1st ..she is very talented..A heartfelt thanking to her for allowing us to share her hard work ..
Weekly Fanfiction Recommendation ( Fifty Shades of Grey :Christian Grey’s POV )
Taylor is waiting for me at the parking lot.
“Let’s go,” I say. He drives me to Heathman Hotel. I go to my suite, put my purchases on a chair. Busy myself with work, hoping she calls. If not, I’ll leave tomorrow abandoning this pursuit. I hope she calls. I go to work out to spend my excess energy. Her shy smile is before my eyes. I work out for hours. I come back to my hotel room, and take a shower. Anastasia, and her lips are still on my mind. If she doesn’t call, what other chance meeting can I arrange? My mind is working out backup plans. I don’t lose when I’m on a mission. Only if she wants it though. She’s too young for what I have in mind for her. She looks too inexperienced. Why won’t she call? Damn it!
I decide to answer some emails as my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number. Who the hell is this? I’m in a bad temper. I answer curtly:
A shy, nervous and husky sound replies.
“Uhmm… Mr. Grey? It’s Anastasia Steele.” My heart stutters for a second, and then the beat peaks up and I find myself answering with a husky but soft tone.
“Miss Steele. How nice to hear from you.” I almost thought she wasn’t going to call. I’m relieved. I hear her breath hitch. I feel elated to have that effect on her. I’m grinning like an idiot. I tell her that I’m staying at Heathman in Portland and we decide to do the shoot at nine thirty in the morning. When she says “Okay, we’ll see you there,” all breathy and excited, I feel my eyes darken and unable to wait until tomorrow, “I look forward to it, Miss Steele,” I say with laced seduction. My subconscious says “you are mine!”
The wait to next morning is laced with erotic dreams of Anastasia in silk stockings and handcuffs, her blue eyes expectant. “Anastasia,” I whisper, her name a prayer in my lips.
“Christian,” she breathes, the voice of hers is enough to unman me. I wake up sweaty with her name on my lips. I put my arm over my eyes, then remove them uneasy staring at the ceiling. Could any other name have the same effect on me like Janet, or Mary, or Angie? I think not. Anastasia. The name is a caress on my lips, it’s magical, alive. I’m drawn, bewitched, in her grasp.
I get up and go to the gym again to work out to pass the time. After my workout, I take a long shower and put on my white shirt with an open collar, and my grey trademark flannel pants hanging low on my hips. I eat my breakfast quickly, and let my hair on its own volition, leaving it wet. She calls me letting me know that they’re occupying another suite in the hotel for the shoot. Taylor waits by the door.
My gaze seeks her as soon as I enter the suite. There she stands in low rise jeans hugging her curves tightly with a white shirt showing her shape beautifully. I feel her breath hitch when her gaze captures mine, and she gives me a discreet once over.
“Miss Steele, we meet again,” I say extending my hand to receive her small pale hand. With her touch I feel the same jolt of electricity palpate between us, and I know she feels it too, as her blinking increases rapidly. She’s blushing and her breathing gets erratic. She gathers her hand all too soon and introduces her roommate who is as I expected, no nonsense, sure of herself, domineering. Like me.
“The tenacious Miss Kavanagh. How do you do?” I say, and thank my lucky stars in my head that it was Anastasia that came, and not her. She’s beautiful enough, but I wouldn’t like her one bit.
Anastasia then introduces the photographer saying, “This is Jose Rodriguez, our photographer.” She smiles at him lovingly and he back at her, possessive. I feel anger building inside me. Is this fucker her boyfriend?
“Mr. Grey,” the fucker nods.
“Mr. Rodriguez,” I say glacially. I sit and stand for the photo shoot all the while gazing and looking at Anastasia. I have to find out if one of these two fuckers I’ve met in the last two days is her boyfriend. They were both possessive of her. About thirty minutes later we’re done, and we say out niceties to each other with Kavanagh, and I turn to Anastasia asking, “Will you walk with me, Miss Steele?”
“Sure,” she says anxious while the friend is suspicious and the fucking photographer scowling. Boyfriend rings on my head. I have to find out. I don’t do “sharing”. She has to be mine.
I open the door and allow her out. “Would you join me for coffee this morning?” I keep the expectancy out of my gaze, but, I can feel her heartbeat increasing and her face going pink. Yes, baby, this is a date.
She tells me disappointed that she has to drive everyone home. Oh, I got you covered baby!
“Please take Miss Kavanagh, the photographer, his assistant and their equipment to where they need to go.” Then I turn to her and say, “see, resolved.”
“Oh, Taylor doesn’t have to do that Mr. Grey. I can switch vehicles with Kate.” She goes back into the suite; ensuing a small discussion with her friend, and comes back out.
“Ok, let’s do coffee” she says flushing scarlet red. Her color makes me smile like the Cheshire cat. We have small talk on the way to the elevators. I press the button to call the elevator. As the door opens, a couple who have been making out spring apart looking anywhere but each other. What is it with elevators? Anastasia is flushed and embarrassed. I keep my gaze on Anastasia, watching the lovely red color creep up her shy face again, while I maintain to keep my smile away…barely. As the elevator dings reaching the first floor, I grab Anastasia’s hand, and walk out of the elevator. We hear the couple giggle behind us as I mutter “what is it with the elevators?
We cross the street to a coffee shop her hand in mine with the jolt of electricity a constant thrum between us. I let her choose a table and ask her what she would like.
“English breakfast tea, bag out.” She says surprising me. So, no coffee. Apologetically she indicates that she’s not keen on coffee. When I go to get the drinks and something to eat, I find her gazing at me surreptitiously, and occasionally biting her lips. When I come back to the table, she brings her gaze down to her knotted fingers flushing. I would love to find out what she is blushing about. Me, I hope.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I say.
She flushes even as red as the Chinese flag. God! What I would love to do to you to get out what you are thinking! I put the tray on the table she picked, and stretch my legs under the table sitting opposite to her to see her beautiful shy face better. I coax her:
“What are you thinking?”
She’s not giving anything away. “This is my favorite kind of tea, I like it black and weak” she says. I have to get to the point and put myself out of misery, because I can’t bear it anymore.
“I see.” I say, “Is he your boyfriend, the photographer Jose Rodriguez?”
“No,” she gushes, “he’s just a good friend. More like family really.”
“I see,” I cut her, “how about the boy from the store?” I get to the point.
“No he isn’t. I told you that yesterday,” she says. I give an inward sigh of relief.
“Why do you ask?” she quizzes me.
“You get nervous around men,” I observe. She looks at her knotted fingers again, flushing once more.
“I just find you intimidating,” she confesses, though I realize she says that without thinking because she blushes all the way to her hairline, but not before I take a sharp intake of breath. I do affect her; the thought pleases me, and I can’t help but smile.
“I am intimidating, but please don’t look down. I like to see your face,” I say, and kiss that mouth of yours that you’ve been biting. She looks up.
“I want to know what you’re thinking. You are mysterious, Anastasia.”
She looks baffled.
I tell her that when she blushes, I know she’s thinking something, but I don’t know what exactly. She asks me if I always make personal observations. I didn’t know I was. Wasn’t she making personal observations about me last week? She shocks me by saying, I’m high handed. How right you are baby!
“I always get my way Anastasia,” I tell her, “in all things.”
I want to know more about her, and ask her about her family. She asks me about mine, but I’m keener to know her. But she’s not giving much away. As I tell her my sister Mia is in Paris, she says longingly, “I hear Paris is lovely,” I tell her it’s beautiful, and ask her if she’s been. She’s never left the country.
I ask her if she would like to visit. She brightens, and says, “To Paris? Of course. But, it’s England I would really like to visit.” I bet I can guess why. My index finger grazes my lower lip, as she looks like she’s barely stopping herself from panting. “Why?” I coax her.
“Austen, Bronte, Shakespeare, Hardy. I like to see the places that inspired my favorite authors,” she says without blinking. Hearts and flowers as I suspected. She looks at her watch. She wants to go to study her finals. I offer her to walk her to Miss Kavanagh’s car. She thanks me for the tea. Oh, the pleasure is all on me, I smile. I hold my hand out to her, and she automatically hands it to me once again the current flowing between us. We both stroll back towards the hotel both lost in thought. I love the way her ass looks in those jeans, and without thinking I ask her, “Do you always wear jeans?”
“Mostly.” She answers confused. Suits her. Very very well. Just as we stroll to the parking lot, she blurts out, “Do you have a girlfriend?” all flushing, because I think she spoke her thought out loud. I give her a half smile.
“No, Anastasia. I don’t do the girlfriend thing,” I answer softly.
She’s confused, of course. A flicker of thought passes her face without any words. She has a disappointed look on her face and tries to let go of my hand, walking ahead and tripping headlong onto the street. I find myself shouting, “Shit, Ana!” as I yank her hand to get her upright as a bicyclist nearly missing hitting her as I pull her to my body as tight as possible. I feel her inhaling my scent as I get a whiff of her soft feminine smell of her hair and skin. I close my eyes momentarily whisper at her ear, “Are you okay?” while grasping the small of her back with one hand, and trying to make sure she’s ok and has no scratches on her face with the other. I brush her lower lip with my thumb as a shiver runs through my body. Her breath is caught. We lock gazes, and she is intently looking at me, her body and gaze are saying “kiss me.”
She’s lovely, and I am fighting against myself to control my urges to pull her the remaining inch and kiss her. I briefly close my eyes, and when I open them I’m determined. She’s too young, too innocent, too lovely. She’s not for my world.
“You should stay away from me Anastasia. I’m not the man for you,” I whisper. Her face is fallen as if I hit her…hard. It’s better if she thinks it’s rejection than to have her hurt later.
“Breathe Anastasia, okay? I’ll let you stand, and let you walk.” She has disappointment, and hurt on her face. She opens her blue eyes as wide as possible as to not let any tears pooling behind to escape.
“I’ve got this,” she says, “Thank you Mr. Grey.”
“For saving me,” she says nearly in tears.
I’m furious at the fucker who nearly drove over her. “It was that idiot’s fault, not yours! Do you want me to take you to the hotel lobby and sit with you?”
“I’m okay,” she says her voice breaking. “Thank for doing the photo shoot,” she says at the last ditch effort trying not to cry. I’m battling with some foreign emotions. I nearly concede, and try to explain myself to her that I’m a fucked up guy, and what she would get from me would make her unhappy. She’s the hearts and flowers kind of girl, and the fifty shades of fucked up Christian Grey doesn’t do that.
“Anastasia… I..” I stop, with the inner battle raging within me, wanting her, but not wanting to hurt her. I’m torn. I can’t bear the hurt on her face.
“What Christian?” she snaps, my name a prayer on her tongue. No, I can’t do that to her. I take a small breath and say, “Good luck with your exams,” confusing her.
Thanks!” she says nearly in tears, and walks away from me. The last thing I see her doing is wiping away stray tears from her face as I kick myself inside.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I turn back to the hotel. I have to punch something, someone, something… I am full of emotions I’m not familiar with. I can’t get her face off of my head. The look… The hurt… Fuck! It’s all my fault… I don’t do the girlfriend thing and she’s not the kind of girl who would do what I want! I’m in a fucking conundrum and I have some unknown desire, some pull towards her, and I don’t want to hurt her. She will get hurt. She’s too innocent. It won’t work with her! The battle in my head rages. How would I know it won’t work if I don’t try?
Fuck this! I’ll give myself another day. See if I can work this out in my head. Fuck! I call Claude Bastille and ask him to get his ass to Portland. I need serious workout.
Tomorrow. I will wait till tomorrow.
I can’t get her face out of my mind. The crushing look she had, and the heartbreak that was displayed on her face as if she had death in the family. I couldn’t take what I said back. It’s for her own good. She’s too innocent. Too sweet. Too deserving of something more than what I can offer her. But then her presence pulls me to her. I’m torn apart inside with these tornado of emotions. I just can’t introduce her to my dark world! She deserves better; she needs someone to sweep her off her feet, go hearts and flowers on her which she clearly desires. But then the idea of someone else touching her is killing me inside! I hate this foreign feeling that’s eating me, clawing into my soul. I hate being this way. I’m short with everyone. Even Taylor who generally has his poker face flinches. I’m too edgy.
It’s been nearly a frigging week. I’m watching her from afar like a teenage boy! She’s going to school, going to work while I still manage my world from the Heathman Hotel in Portland. I can direct my company from here until I finish my duty for the graduation commencement ceremony at WSU where I’m supposed to confer degrees to the graduating class. Including her… Anastasia. Why can’t I get her out of my mind? What am I a fucking teenager? Diversion… What I need is diversion. But nothing is appealing to me except her. It’s like her body calls to me, her sprit, her blood, her being. I can’t fucking escape this feeling!
I have to do something to show her I’m interested in her, but I still feel I have to warn her. She’s into British classics and Hardy she says. I decide to send her Tess of the D’Urbervilles first edition with a note. I’m sure she’s read it. I want her to stay away, but not stay away. At least give her a warning. If she rejects me at least, I can maybe move on. Maybe…
I handwrite the note:
Why didn’t you tell me there was danger?
Why didn’t you warn me?
Ladies know what to guard against, because
they read novels that tell them of these tricks…
I order the 1st edition of the book and have it sent to her house with my warning hoping she’ll get my warning, but part of me also hopes that she’ll disregard it. I’ve never desired someone as much, not by any stretch of mind, and I’ve had quite a few women. I scold myself that I can have my pick of women. Almost any woman! But I don’t want any woman! I want her! Maybe if I can hold on till her graduation and if I see her then, maybe then I can declare my hand to her. I’m fucking losing my mind! She’s bewitched me body and soul! I don’t want to be away from her!!
It’s Friday night. I had my dinner at my hotel room with my brother Elliot who brought some clothes for me seeing as I wasn’t intending to stay this long. My phone rings. I look at the caller ID and it’s her! Anastasia! I answer the phone on the second ring nearly breathless, surprised but softly I inquire: “Anastasia?”
She doesn’t sound good. Is she ill? I’m immediately alert and attentive to her voice. Her speech is slurred.
“Grey…” she sounds off key, “why did youuu,” *hiccups* “send me the books?”
I immediately feel concerned. I get in a protective mode because she’s not well. There is definitely something’s wrong with her!
“Anastasia? Are you alright? You sound off key, strange…”
She giggles and slurs again. “Grey, you’re the strange one, not me!”
“Anastasia, have you been drinking?” I ask incredulous.
“None of your business! Why should you be con… con…” she struggles to complete her sentence, “con.cerned?”
“Just curious. Tell me, where are you?”
She giggles, actually giggles. “In a bar!” she gushes.
“Uh uh… It’s a bar in Portland.”
“How will you get home Ana?”
“Don’t know,” hiccups, “I’ll find a way”.
“Which bar is it Anastasia?”
“Why the hell did you send me Tess of the D.. Durb… D’Urbervilles books Christian?”
“Anastasia..” I say as calmly as possible as my anger is rising to the boiling point. “Tell me where you are!” My calmness is laced with anger.
“You are sooo bossy, controlling person man..”
Where the fuck are you Ana? So help me, I’ll find out one way or the other!”
“oh so far away from… from.. where you are. Yeah, from Seattle.”
“Ana, please.. Where are you?”
“Goodnight Christian!” and she hangs up! On me!
“TAYLOR!” I yell. My brother looks at me amused. He’s never seen me in pursuit of a woman, and this is a sight to see for him.
“Yes sir!” he shows up.
“I need you to track Anastasia Steele’s cell phone. Find out her location! Now!”
He’s got his little command center setup already to control a space mission let alone finding the location of a Miss Anastasia Steele. Few minutes later I have the location. Elliot opens his mouth to say something and I stop her with one gesture of my hand, and he grins holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Taylor! Let’s go!” I say, and Elliot also grabs his jacket, sidling along. I look at him pointedly. He says grinning, “Hey bro! I always thought you were gay! This I gotta see!” I clench my teeth, but let him come along.
“Yes sir.” We speed through the night from Heathman’s to the bar. I call Ana back with satisfaction as we speed through the night.
“Hi?” she answers scared. That’s right! You need to be scared.
“I’m coming to get you!” I hang up brewing.
It’s not too far from where I’m staying, and we make it within ten minutes of me hanging up. I am able to locate her in front of the bar where the photographer is making his advances on her while she’s feebly trying to push him away. I want to hit the living daylights out of the fucker! Elliot is with me.
“Go find her roommate. Cute, strawberry blonde. She answers to the name Kate Kavanagh!”
“Cute and blonde? With pleasure!” he grins and smoothly walks into the bar.
“I believe the lady said No!” I hiss through my teeth as I emerge from the darkness. It’s taking all my self-control not to jump at him, and beat the crap out of him. He lets go of her.
“Grey,” he says tersely.
As if on cue Anastasia doubles over and hurls the contents of her stomach on the concrete patio splashing the fucker who jumps back muttering something in Spanish. She’s barely able to stand up. I rush to steady her head while holding her hair back. I pull her to the flower bed where she can do less splashing while clearing out the content of her stomach in the relative darkness.
“If you’re going to throw up, do it here.” I say. She pukes for a long while and even after the entire content of her stomach is gone, she continues to dry heave. I hand her my handkerchief. She takes it embarrassed, while her fucking attacker hangs by the door like a cat who spilled his milk. He mutters her he’ll see her inside, and walks away! Walks away! What kind of friends first forces his hand on his friend and then leaves her with a complete stranger to be cared for? Ana is three sheets to the wind, but she manages to say “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for Anastasia?” I ask. This better be good.
“Oh, you want the list? The phone call… Throwing up… but mostly for the phone call,” she looks chagrined looking down at her hands.
“We’ve all been here one time or another, but perhaps not quite as badly as you are,” she looks as if I slapped her. But I push on, “Do you make a habit of pushing your limits in this manner? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for pushing limits, but not in this matter.
She’s mad at me and defiant.
“I’ve never been drunk before, and,” holding her head trying to steady herself she adds, “I’ve no intention of being one again.” She staggers, and I grab and hold her close to my chest now the danger of her hurling passed.
“Come, I’ll take you home,” I say.
“How did you find me anyway?” she asks petulantly.
“I tracked your phone.”
She looks at me with an expression that says confused, and amused at the same time.
“I have to get my purse and jacket.” She says. She also wants to tell her roommate of her leaving. I tell her that my brother Elliot is inside and dancing with Kate. She looks surprised but she wants to go in. I usher her back into the bar, but I don’t want her to get sick any more than she already is. So I take her to the bar, and get myself a drink and get her a large glass of ice water. I make her drink it. All of it. I can see that her glare says “you’re bossy!” and I find that kind of erotic. She stands up to me even with her glare. Once she’s done drinking her water, I pull her to me, inhale her heady personal scent that is vanilla, clean soap, and outdoors. Somehow with her personal scent this becomes an intoxicating concoction. I have a hard time keeping my hands off of her. I lead her into the dance floor swinging, and we reach my brother Elliot and Anastasia’s roommate Kate who is like white on rice on my brother dancing their butts off and having a good time. Ana tells her I’m taking her home. She waves us goodbye grinning. As I try support Ana out of the bar and the noise, she starts swaying, and before I know it, it’s out of my mouth: “Fuck!”
She’s on the floor headlong. This is times three. Will I always be picking her off the floor? Somehow even the thought of it is endearing though I hate seeing her fall and get hurt. I pick her up and carry her in my arms, and hoist her into the Audi SUV. Taylor drives us to the hotel. I carry her to my suite in my arms like the most precious cargo, like a child. I gaze at her beautiful face. She’s so captivating. I just want to run my fingers through her hair and face, and feel and gaze at her. When I enter my suite I take her to my bedroom. I’m bewitched by this innocent girl. Completely taken. She’s here in my bed, and I’m completely helpless against her. Against this sleeping beauty.
I dismiss Taylor by saying “That’s all Taylor!”
“Goodnight sir,” and went back to his room.
I lay Anastasia after pulling the duvet cover up. I stared at her for minutes, hours I don’t know. I couldn’t get my eyes off of her my breath hitching at her peaceful look.
I kneel on the floor and untie the laces of her Converse shoes. I pull them off her feet. Then I pull the socks off. I then unzip her jeans and pull them off her revealing her flawless long legs. I pull the duvet over her; sit in the chair watch her lay in the infant position breathing slowly. It gives me an enormous amount of peace I have not felt in a long time. I just want to crawl next to her, and hold her all night. I’ve never had someone next to me in bed… to sleep with. Here’s a first. I strip off my pants and shirt. I pull a t-shirt on, and turn the side table light off. First time in my life, I sleep a peaceful sleep without any nightmares of the crack whore who was my mother or her pimp. I dream of Anastasia.
Being a morning person that I am, I wake up early after what felt like the most restful night next to beautiful Anastasia. I could watch her for hours, but I need to work out to get rid of this sexual draw towards her. I put my workout sweats on. I leave by the bedside table a glass of orange juice to give her a shot of vitamins and two pills Advil to get rid of her hangover. I work out hard, sweat pours out of me. After what feels like an eternity, I get back to my suite, and knock on my bedroom door before entering to not to make her feel uncomfortable. She’s awake, and her eyes watch and trail me. As her eyes linger on the sweat stains of my workout pants, her breath hitches, and that reaction does something to me, and I feel myself harden.
“Good morning Anastasia,” I say, “How do you feel?”
“Better than I deserve,” she whispers shyly, then looks up at me with her bright blue eyes. As I take the towel off my neck she gazes at me intently and asks “How did I get here?”
I go to the edge of the bed and sit. I’m close enough to touch her, but I won’t. I don’t want to tell her that I wanted to gaze at her all night trying to decide if she’s what I want. I opt for a lighter explanation.
“Since you managed to soil the bar’s vicinity, I didn’t want to take a risk with the car’s leather seats. I brought you here instead. It was closer,” I say passively.
She bites her lip hitching my breath, “Did you put me to bed?”
“Yes,” I say with my poker face.
“And undressed me?” she says in a barely audible whisper chewing that lip again.
“Yes,” gazing at her lips.
“And, did we… uhm?” she arched her eye brows, and turned red before lowering her gaze.
“No Anastasia. You were completely passed out. I don’t do necrophilia. I prefer my women completely receptive, and aware,” I say dryly.
She turns red as recognition goes through her face. That’s right. I’m very straight!
“But it was a very interesting experience to have you in my bed.”
“You slept next to me?”
“It is my bed,” I said wryly. “It was treat and one I won’t forget for some time,” I say. For a long time…
She questions me on my stalking tendencies as she calls it. Though she sounds chiding, she looks pleased.
“You should be happy I stalked you, because instead of here, you would have woken up next to the photographer who was pressing his suit on you last night, in fact rather forcefully,” I say remembering, none too pleased, and my anger rising again towards the fucker.
“You sound like a courtly knight,” she says. Her incorrect observation throws me off, and brings me back to my worries. How little you know me. There’s nothing light about me baby. It’s all dark and fucked up.
“Anastasia, there’s nothing light about me,” I say, “maybe a dark knight.” She looks disbelieving. I give her a bitter smile. It’s too early to talk about my dark soul, or the lack of it thereof. I change the subject.
“Did you eat last night?” I question her. She shakes her head in the negative. I’m appalled.
“Anastasia, that was why you got violently ill last night! You must always eat, especially if you intend to drink!” I scold her exasperated. She flinches back, but replies.
“Will you keep scolding me this morning?”
“Am I scolding you?”
“You sure sound like it,” she says petulantly.
Good, I think my palms are twitching. “Be glad that’s all I’m doing. Had you been mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit on your behind for a week after what you did yesterday!”
“What did I do?” she scowls back. “What’s it to you anyway? Who asked you to swoop in and save me?”
Her answer oddly feels hurtful, yet another feeling I’m not familiar with.
“You behaved badly. You didn’t eat, you drank excessively, and got sick, and would have even been raped by what you call your friend. You put yourself in a position to get hurt!
She lowers her gaze again chagrined. “Jose is my friend, he wouldn’t have hurt me. Maybe he just got out of line with too much to drink.”
“Maybe he should be thought some manners!” I barely contain myself. Maybe I should teach him a lesson he’s never going to forget! She looks up at me and locks her gaze with me.
“You are quite the disciplinarian Mr. Grey!” she spurts out. Baby, you have no idea! I grin.
Oh Ana, if you only knew how much!” My grin gets wider. Sometimes she sees right through me. I get up and walk towards the bathroom. “I’m going to shower right now, unless you want to go first…” I ask questioning. She gasps and holds her breath. My body responds to it like metal to magnet. I walk towards her and gently thug her lower lip out of the grasp of her teeth. My thumb grazes over her lower lip as the jolt of current passes on between us in a constant flow. I want to take her down and have my way with her right here, right now!
Instead I say, “Breathe baby!” and release her face. I feel her gaze glued behind me as I move to the bathroom. I’m hooked.
I shower as quickly as I can as to not to miss a minute with her. I take the speediest shower in my personal history, and come out coolly with a towel wrapped on my waist. She’s out of bed, looking around. Her jaw drops as she sees me, but then again, so does mine to see her so close to naked. One innocent, breath taking woman who is so unaware of her own beauty. She stills in her place. I tell her that her jeans were soiled with her vomit, and point to the clean clothes I had Taylor purchase for her this morning. Her eyes brighten, and eyes me trying to hide her gaze, she mutters “I’ll take… uhm.. that shower now.” And walks into the bathroom.
I dress in my pants and white linen shirt. I take my morning paper to read at the table while waiting for the food to arrive. Ten minutes later there is a knock on the door. Room service. I let the waiter bring the food on the dining table. After sending him off, I go to the bathroom door and knock letting Anastasia know that the food is here. She stutters an “okay,” making me smile. She’s very unease around men. Very inexperienced. Somehow this makes me pleased. When she comes out she looks breathtaking, innocent, but makes me frown when I see her hair damp. I have this protective urge to keep her safe even from herself.
“You haven’t dried your hair!” I scold her.
“I didn’t see the hair dryer,” she mutters. I narrow my eyes. She’s not mine… She’s not mine… She’s not mine… I chide myself. Not yet.. But I’d like her to be.
“You look astounding in that color,” I find myself saying unable to take my gaze off of her. She blushes.
“Thank you for the clothes Christian,” she says biting that lip again. “I should pay you for it.”
I frown. I don’t want to be paid for them! I can afford them. I feel like I should take care of her.
“You should learn to graciously accept gifts Ana,” I tell her firmly.
“I can’t, see, you’ve given me some very expensive books,” she says, quickly adding, “which intend to return of course, but clothes, I don’t know. I should pay for them. I know I can’t afford to pay for the books,” she trails off, “but I can pay for the clothes.”
“I can afford them Anastasia! You don’t need to pay for them,” I say to this stubborn beautiful girl before me.
“I know you can Christian. That’s not the point. I’d feel better if I did, that’s all,” she looks at her fingers as if some answers are written on them. She then raises her gaze at me and asks, “why did you give me those books Christian?”
I close my eyes briefly, and exhale. When I open them back again, I say, “because I felt that you needed a warning. When I was holding you, you looked at me begging me to kiss you, and,”I said running my hands through my hair in a nervous gesture. I felt a loss for words first time in a long time, but gather my thoughts and continue “and, look, I’m not the hearts and flowers kind of guy. I don’t do that. My tastes are very singular. You should stay away from me if you know what is good for you. Although God knows, I can’t stay away from you…” I look at her hoping she wouldn’t stay away, and hoping she would with a confused mess of emotions. I close my eyes to sort this damned feeling out. I’m not good at feelings, and if I knew what’s good for me, I would steer clear of her as well! Her proximity is bewitching, beguiling, drawing me like an undercurrent I can’t escape. Like a moth to the flame. Like her soul is calling to mine like it’s lost half seeking to merge. Even when I close my eyes, I feel her.
She whispers, “then don’t stay away from me…”
I feel I owe her the protection from my fifty shades of fuckeduppedness; I don’t want to see her hurt. She’s too innocent. Like none I’ve met, and I’ve met quite a few. I close my eyes again.
“Anastasia you don’t know what you’re asking for!”
“Tell me then!” she urges me.
“I guess that means you’re not celibate,” she whispers. That brings me out of my reveries, my eyes darken with passion for her, and desire heightens. I give her a salacious smile. “No, Anastasia,” I say amused, “I’m NOT celibate.”
“Oh!” she whispers her breath catches with desire and I can hear her heartbeat like the fluttering wings of a hummingbird trying to escape her chest. That does things to my body, boiling my blood. I just can’t let her go now. Come hell or high water. I have to try! I make my decision.
“What are your plans for the next few days Ana?” I ask my eyes dark with desire.
She tells me she is working today after midday.
“How about tomorrow?” I ask leaning forward.
“I’m working all week, and Kate and I are supposed to be packing because we’re moving to Seattle.”
“Do you have a place yet?”
“Yes, someplace in Pike Market District.” I smile pleased. She’s going to be very close to me.
“I’ve applied for internships and I’m waiting to hear from them.”
“Have your applied to my company?” I ask.
“No, I haven’t,” she stutters.
“What’s the matter with my company?” I think out loud.
She grins, “your company, or Your Company?” God, I like her! She has a smart mouth, but unlike anyone I’ve met before. It’s a breath of fresh air. She’s not afraid of speaking her mind to me.
“Are you smirking at me Anastasia?” I ask her wanton. She catches her breath and bites her lip. I just take it anymore, “God! I like to bite that lip!” I growl. Her mouth opens as she gasps with desire, squirming. I like her response. I bet she’s wet all the way. The thought makes me desirous but not as much as what she challenges me to do next, “Why don’t you then?”
I make up my mind. I can’t stay away from her, but she still needs to know my terms. “Because I will not touch you until I have your written consent Anastasia,” I say smiling.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s pretty literal. I need your written consent before I touch you. I have to show you. When do you finish with work Anastasia?” I ask. She replies “eight.” I tell her that I could take her to Seattle this evening to enlighten her.
“Why can’t you tell me now?” she asks.
“Because I’m enjoying your company and I don’t want you to run to the hills, just yet.” She looks puzzled as I expected she would be. A lot of emotions pass through her face, but finally she looks resolute.
“Okay,” she says determined.
I arrange for a standby pilot for Charlie Tango as I have a feeling she may not agree to what I have in mind for her in which case she may want to come back home, and to my disappointment, this would be the end of our brief encounter. But I am really hoping that it’s not.
“You’re very bossy,” she observes after I hang up the phone. How right she is! Yet she still doesn’t have any idea how much more bossy I can be. No idea at all!
She’s unable to finish her food, whether it’s from nervousness, or excitement, but I still have a hard time with wasted food, and I tell her to eat it. I can’t help it! Doesn’t she know that there are people who are going hungry every day?
When we’re finished eating, she heads to the bathroom to wash-up. She emerges while I’m on the phone. I hang up in a few minutes, and I take her hand to walk out. There’s something about her that is drawing me to her. When she’s near me I can feel the air crackling. I impatiently press the elevator call button. In a minute or two it dings open. We enter into the elevator, and the air is even more electric and current is pulsing between us. She feels it too. Bites her lip. Our gazes lock, moth to the flame. Passion flames knotting my insides, I feel myself hardening.
“Oh! Fuck the paperwork!” I growl, and lunge at her, pushing her to the elevator wall gripping her hands above her head with one hand, I steady her with my body pressing her to the wall, and fix her head with my other hand as my mouth explores hers. What a sweet exploration that is! She moans into my mouth, as our tongues start a tango of their own, dancing and exploring, and kissing. She wants me and I want her!
“You. Are. So. Sweet” I find myself enunciating. I lost my sense enough to f*ck her in the elevator when it suddenly dings and stops on one of the floors letting three businessmen in. We spring apart, as I don my poker face while she looks disheveled and desirous still. I eye her from my peripheral vision while slowly exhaling this pent up sexual energy. The businessmen grin as we exit the elevator on the first floor as I grab her hand, and mutter to myself, “What is it with the elevators!”
She used my toothbrush as her mouth tasted minty fresh, and she smiled in the affirmative when I asked her about it. She’s one of a kind. We exit the hotel. I’m putty in her hands. Only if she knew. All of a sudden I feel elated with her next to me. I am only 27, and for the first time with Anastasia, I feel young. We are young!