Where are you, Leila?
I see her in my mind’s eye, head bowed. Willing. Waiting. Wanting. Kneeling in my playroom, asleep in her room, kneeling by my side as I work in my study. And now for all I know she’s wandering the streets of Seattle, cold and lonely and acting crazy.
Maybe I’m uneasy because Ana’s agreed to move in.
I can protect her. But she doesn’t want that.
I shake my head. Anastasia is challenging.
She’s very challenging.
Welcome to falling in love. Flynn’s words haunt me. So this is what it’s like. Confusing, exhilarating, exhausting.
I walk over to my grand piano and lower the top board to cover the strings as quietly as I can. I don’t want to wake her. I sit down and stare at the keys. I haven’t played for a few days. I place my fingers on the keys and start to play. As Chopin’s nocturne in B-flat minor quietly fills the room, I’m alone with the melancholy music and it soothes my soul.
A movement in my peripheral vision distracts me. Ana is standing in the shadows. Her eyes glint from the light in the hallway, and I continue to play. She walks toward me, dressed in the pale pink satin robe. She’s stunning: a diva who’s stepped off the silver screen.
When she reaches me, I take my hands off the keys. I want to touch her.
“Why did you stop? That was lovely,” she says.
“Do you have any idea how desirable you look at this moment?”
“Come to bed,” she says.
I offer her my hand, and when she takes it I pull her into my lap and embrace her, kissing her exposed neck and tracing my lips to the pulse point at her throat. She trembles in my arms.
“Why do we fight?” I ask, as my teeth tease her earlobe.
“Because we’re getting to know each other, and you’re stubborn and cantankerous and moody and difficult.” She tilts her head to give me better access to her neck. I smile against her skin as I run my nose down her throat.
Challenging.
“I’m all those things, Miss Steele. It’s a wonder you put up with me.” I graze her earlobe with my teeth.
“Mmm…” She lets me know it feels good.
“Is it always like this?” I whisper against her skin. I cannot get enough of her?
“I have no idea,” she says, her voice little more than a sigh.
“Me neither.” I untie the sash on her robe and it falls open, revealing the gown beneath. It clings to her body, showing every curve, every dip, every hollow. My hand skims from her face to her breast and her nipples harden, crowning against the satin when I circle them with my fingers. I move my hand to her waist, then to her hip.
“You feel so fine under this material, and I can see everything—even this.” I tug gently on her pubic hair, visible as a slight mound beneath the fabric.
She gasps and I cradle her neck and coil my hand in her hair, drawing her head back. I kiss her, coaxing open her mouth and testing her tongue with mine.
She moans once more and her fingers curl around my face, stroking my stubble as her body rises beneath my touch.
Gently I lift up her nightgown, enjoying the feel of rich, soft satin as it inches up her beautiful body, revealing her long lovely legs. My hands find her ass. She’s naked. I cup her in my hand, then move and run my thumbnail down the length of her inner thigh.
I want her. Here. On my piano.
Abruptly I stand, surprising Ana, and I lift her onto the piano so she’s sitting on the front of the top board, her feet on the keys. Two discordant chords ring through the room as she gazes at me. Standing between her legs, I take her hands. “Lie back.” I ease her down onto the piano. The satin spills like fluid over the edge of the gleaming black wood and onto the keys.
Once she’s on her back I let go, strip off my T-shirt, and push her legs apart. Ana’s feet play a staccato melody on the low and high keys. I kiss the inside of her right knee and trail kisses and soft nips up her leg to her thigh. Her nightgown inches up, revealing more and more of my beautiful girl. She groans. She knows what I have in mind. Her feet flex, and the dissonant sounds from the keys resonate through the room, an uneven accompaniment to her accelerated breathing.
I reach my goal: her clitoris. And I kiss her once, relishing the jolt that shoots through her body. Then I blow on her pubic hair to make a small space for my tongue. I push her knees wider and hold her in place. She’s mine. Exposed. At my mercy. And I love it. Slowly, I start circling my tongue around her sensitive sweet spot. She cries out and I continue over and over and over, while she’s writhing beneath me, tilting her pelvis up for more.
I don’t stop.
I consume her.
Until my face is soaked.
From me.
From her.
Her legs start to tremble.
“Oh, Christian, please.”
“Oh no, baby, not yet.” Pausing, I take a deep breath. She’s laid out before me in satin, her hair spilling over the polished ebony; she’s gorgeous, lit only from the reading light.
“No,” she whimpers. She doesn’t want me to stop.
“This is my revenge, Ana. Argue with me and I am going to take it out on your body somehow.” I kiss her belly, feeling her muscles tighten beneath my lips.
Oh, baby, you are so ready.
My hands travel up her thighs, stroking, kneading, teasing.
With my tongue I circuit her navel while my thumbs reach the junction of her thighs.
“Ah!” she lets out a gargled cry as I push one thumb inside her while the other teases her clitoris, around and around and around.
She arches off the piano.
“Christian!” she cries.
Enough, Grey.
I lift her feet off the keys and push them so she slides effortlessly over the top board. I undo my fly, grab a condom, and let my pants fall to the floor. I climb up and kneel between her legs as I put on the condom. She watches me, her expression intense and filled with longing. I crawl up her body until we are face to face. My love and desire are reflected in her dark, dark eyes.
“I want you so badly,” I whisper, and slowly claim her.
And ease back.
And ease in.
She clutches my biceps and tips her head, her mouth open wide.
She’s so close.
I build up speed and her legs flex beneath me and she lets out a strangled cry as she comes and I let go. Losing myself in the woman I love.
I STROKE HER HAIR as she rests her head on my chest.
“Do you drink tea or coffee in the evening?” Ana asks.
“What a strange question.”
“I thought I could bring you tea in your study, and then I realized I didn’t know what you would like.”
“Oh, I see. Water or wine in the evening, Ana. Though maybe I should try tea.” I move my hand from her hair to her back, stroking, touching, caressing her.
“We really know very little about each other,” she whispers.
“I know.” She doesn’t know me. And when she does…
She leans up, frowning. “What is it?”
I wish I could tell you. But if I do, you’ll leave.
I cup her beautiful, sweet face. “I love you, Ana Steele.”
“I love you, too, Christian Grey. Nothing you tell me will drive me away.”
We’ll see, Ana. We’ll see.
I move her to my side, sit up and vault off the piano, and lift her down.