It’s never felt like this.
Taking Ana to a darker side.
I fucking love it.
“Oh, Ana,” I pant, and twist the plug around again.
She cries out as I keep rocking into her. Taking her. Consuming her. Owning her.
“Oh, fuck,” she cries.
And I know she’s close.
“Yes, baby,” I whisper.
“Please,” she begs.
“That’s right.”
You goddess, Ana.
I slap her hard and she lets go, screaming out loud and proud as she’s gripped by her orgasm. I tug the plug out and toss it in the bowl.
“Fuck!” she screams, and I tighten my hold on her hips and let go, holding her to me and losing myself in my release.
I sag over her, spent but elated. Pulling her into my arms, I sink to the floor, curling her into my embrace as I catch my breath. She’s gulping in air, her head resting on my chest.
“Welcome back,” I say, removing the blindfold. She blinks, a little dazed, as her eyes adjust to the muted light. She looks okay. I tip her head back and press my lips to hers, anxiously trying to gauge how she’s feeling.
Reaching up, she strokes my face.
I smile with relief. “Well, did I fulfill the brief?” I ask.
Her brow creases. “Brief?”
“You wanted rough.” My tone is cautious.
Her face brightens. “Yes. I think you did.”
Her words wrap around my soul. “I’m very glad to hear it. You look thoroughly well fucked and beautiful at this moment.” I caress her cheek.
“I feel it,” she hums. Holding her face, I kiss her with all the tenderness that she deserves. Because I love her.
“You never disappoint.” Ever. “How do you feel?” I breathe.
“Good,” she whispers and a telltale flush crosses her face. “Thoroughly well fucked.” Her smile is shy and sweet and telling. And totally at odds with her profanity.
“Why, Mrs. Grey, you have a dirty, dirty mouth.”
“That’s because I’m married to a dirty, dirty boy, Mr. Grey.”
I can’t argue with that.
And I’m buoyant, grinning back at her. I must resemble the Cheshire Cat. “I’m glad you’re married to him.” My fingers grasp her braid, and I lift the end to my lips and kiss it. I love you, Ana. Never leave me.
She reaches for my left hand and, raising it to her lips, kisses my wedding ring. “Mine,” she whispers.
“Yours,” I answer, and I tighten my hold on her and drive my nose in her hair. “Shall I run you a bath?”
“Hmm. Only if you join me in it.”
“Okay.” I help Ana to her feet and stand up.
She points to the jeans I’m still wearing. “Will you wear your, er, other jeans?”
“Other jeans?”
“The ones you used to wear in here.”
“Those jeans?” My Dom jeans. The DJs.
“You look very hot in them.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. I mean, really hot.”
How could I refuse? I want to look hot for my wife.
“Well, for you, Mrs. Grey, maybe I will.” I kiss her and grab the small bowl that contains our afternoon’s entertainment, and I walk over to the chest of drawers to switch off the music.
“Who cleans these toys?” Ana asks.
Oh. Ah. “Me. Mrs. Jones.”
“What?” Ana gasps in shock.
Yep. Gail knows everything, all my dirty little secrets, and she still works for me.
Ana is still gaping at me as if she expects more information. I switch off the iPod. “Well. Um—”
“Your subs used to do it?” Ana says, finally figuring it out.
All I have is an apologetic shrug. “Here.” I offer her my shirt and she dons it quickly, and says no more about toy-cleaning. I leave our stuff on the chest and, taking Ana’s hand, unlock the playroom door, and we head downstairs to our bathroom. She pauses on the threshold, yawns and stretches, a secret smile etched on her face.
“What is it?” I ask, turning on the faucets.
Ana shakes her head, avoiding eye contact.
Is she feeling shy all of a sudden?
“Tell me,” I coax, as I pour bath oil into the running water.
Her cheeks develop a rosy flush. “I just feel better.”
“Yes, you’ve been in a strange mood today, Mrs. Grey.” I embrace her. “I know you’re worrying about these recent events. I’m sorry you’re caught up in them. I don’t know if it’s a vendetta, an ex-employee, or a business rival. If anything were to happen to you because of me—” The horrific image, of her lying in place of the crack whore, haunts me.
Stop, Grey. Stop.
She hugs me. “What if something happens to you, Christian?” She sounds bleak.
“We’ll figure this out. Now let’s get you out of this shirt and into this bath.”
“Shouldn’t you talk to Sawyer?”
“He can wait.” My tone is clipped; I have a few choice words for him.
I slip my shirt off Ana.
Shit. The marks I left on her body are still there. Faded. But still present, reminding me that I’m an asshole.
“I wonder if Ryan has caught up with the Dodge?” Ana says, and I know she’s ignoring my reaction.
“We’ll see, after this bath. Get in.” I offer her my hand, and she steps into the foam-filled tub. Gingerly, she sits down.
“Ow.” She winces as her ass hits the hot water.
“Easy, baby,” I whisper, but she smiles when she settles, submerged in the water. I strip out of my jeans and join her, sinking down behind her and gathering her to my chest.
Slowly I let myself relax.
Be in the moment, Grey.
That was really something.
Ana did so well. I nuzzle her hair and marvel at how easy it is to just be in her company. I don’t have to talk; she doesn’t have to talk. We can just lie and unwind in a bath together.
I close my eyes and reflect on the day.
What a crazy end to our honeymoon.
A car chase, which Ana handled brilliantly, like a pro.