This is a work or creativity. As such, you may see words, concepts, scenes, actions, behaviors, pictures, implements, and people that may or may not be socially acceptable and/or offensive. If you are sensitive to adverse and alternative subject matter of any kind, please do not proceed, because I guarantee you’ll find it here. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.
I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don’t like this story or me, please don’t spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…
Chapter 45—Family Reunion
“Morton!? Are you fucking kidding me!?” I bark. Taylor looks into Butterfly’s room through the window.
“Sir, do you want her to hear you?” he warns. I run my hand through my hair.
“I want those people physically removed from this hospital, but I don’t have grounds,” I say.
“Well, at the very least, we can make sure that they don’t get into this room,” Taylor says. Upon hearing that, Davenport and Lawrence step behind him.
“Good man,” I say as I look over his shoulder and see Morton stepping off the elevator. In front of him is a small brunette woman marching toward us. The closer she gets, the shorter she gets. She’s even shorter than Butterfly. She’s kind of round and her hair is cut short and permed… it’s not a good look on her at all. She marches right up to me and bends her neck to look into my eyes.
“I want to see my daughter!” she demands. I look at Taylor, then at Morton, who appears to have regrown a set of balls. I lean down to her like I’m talking to a child.
“Over. My. Dead. Body,” I growl.
“Get out of my wife’s face,” Morton threatens.
“Or what?” I say, my eyes shifting to him. “I’ve heard all I need to hear from you,” I spit.
“Ana doesn’t want to see you,” I say, turning my attention back to Mini-Morton. “When she needed you, you weren’t there for her. When she got the chance to get away from you, she fled and never looked back. Why are you here now? She certainly doesn’t need you.”
“A girl always needs her mother,” she responds.
“She needed you at 15 when she was brutalized by that mob! She needed you at 17 when she was here living in a homeless shelter. Are you here to pay her student loans? Why are you here now? You know she has a rich boyfriend now, so you’re trying to use her kidnapping to get back into her good graces?”
Their silence and guilty glances let me know that’s exactly what they were hoping to do. The things people do for money. I’m almost relieved to see Ray walking up the hall behind the Mortons.
“Whoa! Is it cocktail hour already?” he says, waving his hand in front of his nose. He walks around the crowd, sees the Mortons and stops cold.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ray exclaims.
“My sentiments exactly,” I say.
“Why the hell are you here, Carla? Haven’t you ruined her life enough?” Ray shoots.
“Well hello, Ray. How have you been?” Carla says sarcastically.
“Don’t give me that shit!” Ray spit. “This girl has been struggling since she was 15 years old and you’ve had your fucking head too far up your ass to care. She doesn’t need you now. You’re looking at maybe one third of her support system here. She’s got a real family now—people who love her. She doesn’t need a country club chasing, status hungry, attention whore like you.” Carla snarls.
“Still bitter about my divorcing you, are you?” she sneers. This woman is clearly delusional. I couldn’t help but laugh at this statement. In answer to the strange looks that come my way, I respond,
“I’m sorry, Ray,” I say. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but apparently, she hasn’t seen that gorgeous 35-year-old bombshell that has clearly fallen in love with you.” Ray smirks.
“No, Christian, I guess not, but it’s not like we keep in touch. Hell, we have nothing to discuss, so how would she know?” He turns back to Mini-Morton. “Divorcing me was the best thing you could have ever done for me. Now, my daughter doesn’t want anything else to do with you. So, why don’t you take Moonshine here and go back to Nevada?”
Morton finally awakens from his alcohol-induced stupor.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he barks.
“Man, I smelled you before I saw you, so don’t even try to deny it,” Ray barks at him. “In addition to the smell, your skin is yellow, your stomach is bigger than your body, and you’ve got spider veins on your skin. You might want to get to a doctor because you’re a walking billboard for cirrhosis!”
To all of our dismay, a small form appears in the doorway rolling an IV stand.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” she says, her voice sounding almost clear. “I can hear you yelling in…”
A look of pure horror comes across her face when she spots her mother. She gasps loudly, and Mini-Morton steps forward, mistaking her gasp for longing surprise. Butterfly clings to Ray’s denim jacket like a drowning woman struggling for life.
“Why is she here!?” she shrieks. The strength behind the cry surprises everybody standing there. Mini-Morton reaches out for her and she shrieks again.
“Don’t touch me, you witch!” Okay, I have to stop this.
“Butterfly,” I say taking her arms in my hands, “please, don’t scream. Your throat. Don’t let them do that to you.”
She looks at me like I hit her, but I know she’s only trying to process everything that’s going on.
“Breathe, baby. Come on. Breathe with me.” She reaches up and clutches my arms, mimicking my breathing to calm down. Once her breathing is regulated, I ask, “What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll handle it,” she says calmly, and I nod. She clutches the IV stand with one hand and Ray’s hand with the other before addressing Mini-Morton.
“What. The fuck. Are you doing here?” Butterfly spits venomously. “I haven’t spoken to you in over ten years. That wasn’t long enough for you to know that I want nothing to do with you? And you brought him?” She looks at Morton with disdain. “Why are you here Steve? Following the next bottle of Jack?”
“That’s not necessary, Ann,” Morton tries to chastise her.
“No! What’s not necessary, Steve, is your being here. You’re nothing to me! Nothing but a bad memory that one day I hope to forget!”
“Still got that smart mouth, I see,” he spit. Oh, now I have to check this motherfucker.
“Yeah, keep up those snide little comments to her and you’re going to have a broken mouth. I see your lip still hasn’t healed from our last meeting… but you probably split it again on another bottle. Tell me, did you spend the whole five grand on alcohol?” I ask, matter-of-factly. Oh, this has piqued Mini-Morton’s interest—Butterfly’s too, for that matter.
“Five grand!?” Mini-Morton gasps in horror.
“Aaahh, looks like hubby may have forgotten to tell you something,” Ray jibes. I turn to Butterfly.
“I’m sorry, Butterfly. Circumstances obviously prevented us from talking since I returned, but I paid him $5,000 for information on the incident. It was $10,000 but I took half of it back and split his lip when he insulted you.” Butterfly did that grunting throaty laugh that doesn’t make it to your face.
“I’m supporting you and you got $5,000 and didn’t tell me?” Mini-Morton barks.
“Oh, please, save that whole appalled act for another day!” I spit. “You were front and center when he sold your daughter’s silence to Whitmore for $750,000 which is why you were so gung-ho to bring her back to that hell!”
“Wait a minute… what?” Ray is livid now. “What the hell are you talking about?” I turn to Ray now.
“When Ana was living comfortably with you in Montesano and putting her life back together, Morton struck a deal with Whitmore to bring Ana back to Green Valley and to make sure that she stayed quiet about what happened.” I turn to a now completely horrified Butterfly.
“They were afraid that you would have some sort of total recall of the incident and blab about it, so they had to keep you close. Carla was more concerned about her diminishing social life, but I’m sure that three quarters of a mil made that pill a little easier to swallow—part of which was supposed to be your college fund, by the way.” Butterfly’s already technicolor face is turning a shade of bright red.
“Seven fifty!?” Mini-Morton now gasps. “You told me it was five hundred!” Oh, good hell, does this woman ever know when to stop digging holes?
“You knew!?” Butterfly shrieks.
“Baby, I thought I was doing the right thing…” Mini-Morton defends.
“For whom? It certainly wasn’t for me!” Butterfly spit.
“Watch your tone with your mother, Ann!” Morton cautions. What the hell…? Release the tiger…
“Oh, no,” Butterfly begins calmly, “you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Steve. In fact, you don’t have the privilege of speaking to me ever again, you sick, sorry, child seller. I hope you got your fucking money’s worth, you worthless fucking drunk. Jason!” The way she calls Taylor made me jump, and he’s front and center in nanoseconds.
“Please keep an eye on this thing,” she says, never taking her gaze from Morton. “Make sure he keeps his mouth shut. The stench is starting to give me a hangover, not that that’ll be of any assistance since it’s seeping from his fucking pores!” Whoa… step back, people, the claws are out. “If he even tries to breathe that foul breath in my direction, please remove him, and if he gives you trouble, call the police.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Taylor says, positioning himself squarely in front of Morton, his face mere centimeters from Morton’s.
“If you touch me, I’ll sue you for every dime you have,” Morton tries to threaten Taylor.
“It’ll be kind of hard to spend it in traction,” Taylor says, emphasizing his sarcasm by tilting his head to the side.
“As for you,” Butterfly looks to her mother with pure disdain, “I don’t have any time to waste on you. I don’t have a mother. You are nothing to me. I have a father, and he’s right here. So, you people can leave, and don’t ever darken my door again.”
“How can you say that to me?” Mini-Morton says. If she’s pretending to be hurt, she’s doing an excellent job. Butterfly, however, is unmoved. In fact, she laughs.
“Are you going to cry now, Carla? Have I moved you to tears?” she says sarcastically. “Well, good! At least I know that you can feel something. Where were those tears when I was beaten damn near to death? When I woke up alone in that hospital room—not seeing you for days at a time? Where were the tears when I finally found peace and you came and ripped me away from it?
“I lived in hell for four years. Four. Fucking. Years! That’s an eternity for a teenager, did you know that? He treated me like pure shit and you were too busy licking the asses of the parents of the people that beat me to notice! I was afraid every. Damn. Day. Of my. Life for two of those years… two whole years. I was afraid one of those fuckers would jump out at me every time I walked down the street; every time I got on a bus; every time I left the damn house!
“Even in my own home, I didn’t feel safe, and now I know why. You and this walking distillery sold my peace of mind for $750,000, and you have the audacity to stand here and ask me how I can speak to you this way? You better be glad that’s all I’m doing! I am done with you. I’m done with you forever—do you hear me?” She pauses for a moment and after no confirmation from her mother, she barks, “Chuck!” and causes me to jump again.
“Yes, ma’am?” Now Davenport is front and center.
“This is my personal security, Charles Davenport. Chuck, this is Carla and Stephen Morton. Please memorize their faces because if they ever get within 500 feet of me, I’m taking you to the mat!” Whoa! She just threatened Chuck—she’s quite serious. “If you see them coming anywhere near me, you have my permission to get them the hell away from me… by any means necessary—starting now!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Davenport says definitely, stepping in front of Butterfly. Not to be outdone, Lawrence steps just behind me and we now effectively form a barrier between the Mortons and Butterfly and her father that is over six feet tall.
“Christian,” she calls to me. I look over my shoulder at her and she nods gently, transferring control of the situation back to me. I nod back and turn to face our intruders.
“Daddy,” she says summoning her father to follow her. I can see her out of the corner of my eye take her father by the hand again as he opens the door to her hospital room and allows her to escort him inside.
“You heard the lady,” I growl.
“You would really keep a woman away from her daughter?” Mini-Morton says. Bitch, please!
“I don’t know if you know this or not, but Ana can take care of herself. She really doesn’t need me.”
“Yeah, she did a real bang-up job of that this weekend, didn’t she?” Morton sneers. You fucking asshole.
“You fucking cold-hearted soulless spineless rat-bastard piece of shit!” I growl. “The only reason Ana was taken is because she was attacked from behind. Sound fucking familiar? Then, she was drugged and beaten black and blue while she was tied up—by cowards. The same type of cowards, in fact, that paid off you two slimy, worthless, gutless pieces of pond scum to antagonize her when you should have been protecting her!
“You sold your dignity and self-worth for a dollar and how does that feel now? Did that money solve all your problems? Make all your hopes and dreams come true? I just heard your wife say that she’s taking care of you—failed to invest some of that blood money for a rainy day, did you?” I turn a hateful glare to Mini-Morton.
“And what about you, Carla?” I spit her name with utter disdain. “You’ve got to be one of the most selfish, materialistic, superficial beings I’ve ever met in my life and I’ve met quite a few characters, believe me. Either you’re totally stupid or completely fucking clueless. Because of what you put her through, she now holds a CCW and owns three firearms—and I’m told that she’s quite proficient with them. She trains with a 6th Dan black belt in Krav Maga and in a fair fight, she can subdue any one of these men standing here, including you!” I hiss back at Morton. “As a matter of fact, when they kidnapped her, she single-handedly took out a 6-foot-3-inch ex-bodyguard while a second man accosted her from behind and injected her with drugs to render her unconscious. So, like I said, she can take care of herself!”
By now, I have unknowingly moved Taylor out of the way and I’m nose-to-nose with this spineless fucker. His prior show of bravado has completely disappeared, and he cowers under my glare like the phony, pickled piece of shit that he is. I take a step back and compose myself.
“You know, you really don’t get it and I don’t have time to explain it to you,” I continue. “I will tell you this though. She doesn’t want to see you. The last person that she didn’t want to see is in jail now and his accomplice is dead. You should really get it soon!” My security team and I continue to form an unmovable wall in front of Mini-Morton and—as Butterfly calls him—the Walking Distillery.
“I’m not going away, Grey. And I’m not afraid of you,” she sneers. I just laugh and shake my head at her.
“I have to admire your gall,” I say to her. I look over at Morton. “Considering the fact that alcoholism reduces the size of testicles,” I turn back to Mini-Morton, “I now see why yours are so big.” I turn my back on the Gruesome Twosome and give the final instruction to my security team to “Get them the hell out of here” before I enter the room with my Butterfly.
I enter to see Butterfly weeping in Ray’s arms. I don’t want to approach and disturb them, but Ray motions to me to come closer. I take a few steps closer to them as I see Ray whisper something in her ear. She nods and lies down on the bed, nearly burying her face in her pillow. He rises from the bed and joins me near the door.
“Hurt or angry?” I ask looking from Butterfly to Ray. He examines me for a moment.
“You do know her,” he says curtly. I nod. “A little bit of both. The revelation about the money has her torn. She knew that her mother was cold and heartless, but she didn’t know that her mother was a cold and heartless bitch.”
That sentence makes absolutely no sense, but I think I get the idea of what he’s trying to say. I shake my head as if to free it from a stray thought.
“I was going to run her a bath. Maybe after a soak, she’ll be more relaxed… a little more herself. I can do it later, though, if you want to stay for a while…” I say.
“No, I think a bath is a good idea. She’s had a rough morning and it’s not even 10:00 yet,” Ray states.
“Are you sure? I’m sure she’d like to have you stick around.”
“Oh, I’ll be back a little later. Where they kept her, you saw it… was it… sanitary?” he asks.
“Well…” I don’t quite know how to answer that question. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to spend a night there, but for a prison, it was okay for what it was, I guess.” Ray nods.
“She’s got the smell of mildew in her hair. It needs to be washed. It’s a constant reminder to her of where she’s been. It may be subconscious to her… she probably doesn’t even notice it. ” Oh shit! How did I not notice this? I nod.
“I’m sorry, sir. I should have paid closer attention,” I apologize.
“Oh, you were paying very close attention, son. It just didn’t matter,” he says with a laugh, squeezing my shoulder. “Well, I’m going to go make sure that the hospital is rid of the Mortons… if your security hasn’t already done it… then I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed so that you can take care of Annie.” He gives my shoulder another squeeze and leaves the room.
I take note of the names for Butterfly that I’ve heard today. I like Ray’s Annie. It’s endearing, and he’s probably the only person in the world who calls her that. I hate Morton’s Ann, not because he calls her that. Just because I don’t like it. It sounds cold and lazy, like you want to get the word out of your mouth as quickly as possible. It doesn’t take any effort. What’s more, when he says it, it sounds cold.
Butterfly has fallen into a troubled sleep. Her swollen lips are formed into a frown and her pillow is wet from crying. It’s strange how Mini-Morton claims to want to be in her daughter’s life so much, but never once voiced horror or even anger for what happened to her and the current state of her face. She’s stutter-breathing in her sleep from crying and I don’t want to wake her yet. I take her dress and underwear from the garment bag Taylor brought and hang them in the bathroom. Then I fill the bath with her lemongrass citrus bubble bath. I’m sure it’ll make her feel better. Hell, it’s doing wonders for me.
My dreams are plagued with little women claiming to be my mother and drunken stepfathers, crazy kidnappers, muddy wedding dresses and… helicopter rides and beautiful copper hair and strong arms and gray eyes and… soft lips brushing against mine. I want him to kiss me, but he won’t. Please kiss me…
“Butterfly…” he whispers against my lips. Christian, oh, please, kiss me, Christian.
“Butterfly…” he continues to torture me… so close, but he won’t kiss me.
“Wake up, Butterfly…” he says softly.
I open my eyes and this beautiful man is right in front of me, brushing my lips with his.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says as he closes his mouth and gives me the gentlest kiss on my swollen lips. My heart almost stops.
“I fell asleep,” I say, softly. I’m so tired.
“Yes, you did. Ray left a little while ago. I told him that I would take care of you.” I smile as much as my face will allow.
“I smell lemongrass,” I say, recognizing my bubble bath.
“That you do. I ran a bath for you,” he says, smiling back at me. We hear a gentle knock at the door and Christian has to go over and unlock it.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Dr Fischer says, coming into the room and picking up my chart.
“No, not yet. I was just about to put Ana in the bath,” Christian says. Another nurse comes in behind Dr. Fischer. Nurse Christa’s shift must be over.
“Hello, I’m Nurse Debbie. And you are An…” and she gets a glimpse of my man. Oh, God, here we go again, I think to myself. To my delight, she immediately snaps out of her stupor. “I’m sorry… Anastasia, right?” She turns to face me and smiles.
“Yes, I am,” I respond.
“I’m going to remove your IV for you.” She walks over to me and gently starts to remove the tape from my hand. “How are you feeling? Any discomfort? Headache? Pain anywhere? Sore throat?”
“Just really ready to go home,” I say, looking over at Christian. I don’t even feel her removing the IV.
“Well, we’re working on that right now,” Dr. Fischer says, still checking things off in my chart. Nurse Debbie puts a cotton ball on my tiny wound and covers it with a band-aid.
“You’re all set. Is there anything I can do for you before I go? Anything you need?” she asks sweetly. I take her arm and pull her closer to me.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I know. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Debbie blushes a dark red and laughs nervously.
“Um, I’m going to go now,” she squeaks like a little mouse. I chuckle a bit.
“Thank you, Debbie.” I say to her.
“You’re welcome, Anastasia,” she says with a knowing smile before she scurries out of the room… without looking at Christian again.
“Well, I have a few more things to review and I can get you released,” Dr. Fischer says. “You know the drill… rest, fluids, ice for the swelling and bruises, pain killers as needed, come back if you have any complications.” He smiles at me and shakes Christian’s hand before leaving. Christian locks the door behind him and comes back over to me in the bed.
“May I?” he asks, holding his arms out to me. I’m perfectly capable of walking, but I have a feeling that he needs to do this, so I nod. I put my arms around his neck as he lifts me effortlessly from the bed and carries me to the en suite.
“You’re light, Butterfly. Too light. I’ll feed you properly when we get home.”
Home. What a wonderful word… Home.
I nod without saying anything. He places me on my feet in the bathroom. After removing my robe, and that lovely hospital gown, he holds my hand while I step into the small bathtub. It’s nothing like the tub at Escala, but I’m glad to be in it nonetheless—and with my own soap! I sink into the water and close my eyes, still a little tired from crying myself to sleep.
“Relax, baby,” his honey smooth voice says as he gently rubs my body with the same microfiber glove I had cleaned him with the week before. His hands feel heavenly as he caresses my skin with the towel and the bubbles. I really missed him when I was taken captive. I thought I would never see him again.
“Thinking of you is the only thing that kept me sane,” I say softly. His hands stop for a moment and I open my eyes to see that he has removed his shirt and is only wearing his jeans.
“Really?” he says, awestruck.
“Really. I know for sure that I would have given up if I didn’t have you to keep me company. So, I mostly slept and thought of you.” I can see him working hard to keep a rein on his feelings as he starts cleaning me again.
“I think Allen and I have a new bond,” he says. I know that he’s changing the subject to preserve his macho. Part of me understands, but another part of me wants to tell him—wants him to know that he saved me from the jaws of hell even though he wasn’t there. I try to hide my disappointment and go with option one.
“Oh?” I say, feigning interest. “How so?”
“Well, besides the fact that he told me I nearly screwed up the contingency plan, I asked him to come and work for me. I think he’ll do it, too,” he says. This man must have some of the finest, smartest lawyers in the country working for him! Now suddenly, he wants Al?
“Why did you do that?” I ask.
“Are you kidding? I’d be crazy not to. He’s astute, brilliant, observant, discerning…I cannot take the chance of him ever sitting across from me in litigation. So, he has to be next to me…those were my words to him. I’m just waiting for him to name his terms,” he says. I can’t argue with him. Allen is all those things… that’s why he’s my attorney.
“Does it look like he’ll take you up on your offer?” I ask closing my eyes again and trying to relax in the moment.
“I hope so… what’s wrong, Butterfly?” I raise my head and look at him.
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Your breathing is a little labored and even though it’s still a little scratchy, your voice has that tone to it like there’s something that you’re not telling me,” he says. I drop my head.
“I just want to forget this happened. I want to get out of here and I want to forget this happened. I have these horrible bruises on my face that make me look like…” Before I can get any more words out, I’m weeping into my hands. Christian doesn’t try to stop me. He just continues to gently wash my body. As I continue to sob, he delicately washes my hair… twice… and massages conditioner into it. My weeping starts to wane as his fingers work my scalp tenderly and deliciously. It’s like he was massaging all my worries away.
By the time he’s rinsing my hair again, I’m all cried out and exhausted. I pretty much let him do what he needs to do to me as my brain just doesn’t want to think anymore. He gently squeezes the excess water from my hair before helping me from the tub. My head is still down when he wraps my hair in the towel to soak up the excess water as he gently towel dries my body from head to toe. He doesn’t miss an inch of me as he makes sure the water is all gone from my skin, and I’m so lost in my own self-pity that I don’t realize that in the process, he has backed me up against the bathroom door… that is, until he drops to his knees and throws one of my legs over his shoulder.
“Whoa! Christian…” Before I have a chance to protest, he has separated my folds and his mouth devours my core, his tongue varying between slipping in and out of my center and deliciously tormenting my clitoris. Good God! It’s been too long. I throw my head back and gasp loudly and he persists in his masterful ministrations, his large hands holding my hips in place.
“Aaaaahhaaa!” I whimper loudly, and he rewards me with a deep, guttural groan as he inserts his long, graceful fingers into my pussy and massages my sweet spot. Oh God… my head is going to pop off.
“Ah! Christian! Oh God!” It certainly won’t be long now.
“Give it to me, Baby,” he says against my clitoris. “We both need this.” With that, he strokes that special spot a little deeper and suckles unforgiving on my clitoris until I release a cry that I’m sure they heard at the nurse’s station down the hall. The one leg that was holding me up buckles under me and Christian quickly throws it over his other shoulder as he’s holding me against the door by my ass.
“Oh Gooood, baby!” I cry as waves of pleasure crash through me, causing near-violent tremors in my body. When the tremors finally begin to cease, Christian relents his vaginal massage and put my feet back on the floor, holding me close to him while I regain my bearings.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he says, pressing me against him and gently kissing my neck. “But I’m going to wait until you’re a little better before I bury myself in you… as much as I want to,” he breathes.
“Why not now?” I say, a little disappointed.
“Not here,” he says. “I don’t want to rush… but we’ll see how you’re feeling later. Deal?” he says, looking lovingly into my eyes. I smile.
“Deal,” I respond, and he returns my smile as he rubs his nose against mine.
“Good. Now let’s get you dressed, beautiful girl,” he says. He so makes me feel like a princess. He slips me into a matching nude lace bra and panty set, taking careful pains not to destroy the delicate lace as he adjusts it on my body. My hair is still slightly damp as he removes the towel and helps me into my blue blouse tunic long-sleeve mini dress—something comfy and cozy to leave the hospital. He puts his shirt back on and takes my hand, leading me from the bathroom.
Thank God the room is still empty—but of course it would be since he locked the door. I did not want to have to explain the cries from the bathroom to anyone… not that they couldn’t look at my bruised, glowing face and tell immediately. He unlocks the door as I sit on my bed. He moves in behind me and begins to brush my hair to dry it. I hold my head back to give him a better angle. It feels marvelous. I sit there and relax into it, relishing in the glorious massage of my scalp…
I wake cuddled in Christian’s lap, my feet dangling carelessly off the bed. He’s on his blackberry and I can hear other people in the room. When did I fall asleep? I don’t even remember closing my eyes.
“We have movement!” I hear Phil’s voice as I wiggle my toes and begin to wake up. In moments, the bed is surrounded by Phil, Maxie, Gary, Val, Al, James, Elliot, Mia, Ray, Grace and Carrick…my real family. The only people missing are Jason and Chuck—who are, no doubt, outside—and Gail and Marilyn… and Mandy, I guess. My heart is happy now.
“How did they let all of these people in here?” I croak. My throat has gone dry and I motion for some water.
“Because you’re technically discharged, but we have to get you past the paps.” I frown at Val’s statement. Paps… ew! That sounds like an uncomfortable vaginal exam!
“What the hell is a Papz?” I ask, my voice clearer after swallowing some ice water.
“Paparazzi, baby! You’re famous now!” Al chimes in. I’ll have to ask Christian about this. In the meantime…
“Okay, so what’s the plan because I so want to get the hell out of here… No offense, Grace,” I apologize.
“None taken, Dear,” she responds.
“So, while you were napping, we were able to formulate a plan,” Christian begins, sitting up a little with me on his lap. “Lawrence and Williams are bringing the SUVs around. I’m going to carry you out with a jacket wrapped around you, covering your face and head. Lawrence, Williams, Davenport and Taylor will lead the way to the SUVs and handle any overzealous paparazzi while Allen, James, Garrett, Phil, Ray, Elliot and my father…” He’s pointing to everyone to make sure that he doesn’t leave anyone out, “… all shield us from the sides and behind. Gerald and some black and whites have agreed to help us too. Once you and I and Allen are safely in the SUV, Garrett, James, and Elliot will ride in the second SUV in case, for any reason, we need help along the way. Allen will ride with us.”
“Okay, starting from the top…” I have so many questions. “Why do I have a jacket wrapped around my head?”
“Because even though I think you’re beautiful, you’re having a very hard time with your bruising. I’m certain you don’t want that immortalized on the face of some sleazy gossip rag,” Christian responds.
“This is true. Good point. Second—why are you carrying me?” I continue.
“Because someone has brought you a delicious pair of Michael Cors nude platform sandals to go with this dress…” He shoots a look at Taylor, who looks anywhere else but back at Christian, “… and the only thing more newsworthy than billionaire CEO Christian Grey’s girlfriend released from the hospital with bruising is if she takes a face plant.” I involuntarily giggle, knowing that if it were anyone else but me that I would be laughing. “And there’s that sound,” he says, smiling lovingly at me and nuzzling my neck with his nose. I giggle again, momentarily losing my train of thought.
“Okay, okay, back on track,” I shake my head to compose myself. “How are all of these people in the SUVs going to get back to their cars?”
“Their cars are at Escala, except for Phil—and Maxine is driving that one,” he answers. Damn, how long was I asleep?
“Last but not least—who the hell is Gerald and what are black and whites?”
“Gerald is Detective Crab. He’s the lead detective on your case. Black and whites are uniformed cops in police cars. We’re not getting an escort or anything. They’re just making sure that we get off the premises as safely as possible.” Wow, he has covered everything.
“You are highly efficient, Mr. Grey—you and the crew, that is.” I laugh and they all laugh with me.
“So, since my Butterfly here has slept through lunch, Gail has prepared us a delicious early dinner and I don’t want to keep you kiddies out too late since it’s a school night.”
School night. Shit! My patients!
“I need to talk to Marilyn,” I say, looking for my iPhone.
“Who’s Marilyn?” Maxie asks.
“My assistant,” I reply. “Where’s my phone?”
“Butterfly… no work!” Christian says, sternly. What the…?
Settle down, Killer, he’s only looking out for you.
I hate to say that I’ve kind of missed her since the last time we talked… I take a deep breath to compose myself.
“Christian, I’m aware that I need to rest. If you want me to do that effectively, I have to square some things away with Marilyn.” He eyes me speculatively for a moment, then reaches into his jeans pocket and hands me my phone.
“You jerk,” I say softly.
“What? I wanted to make sure we didn’t leave it behind!” he says, badly feigning innocence.
“Sure, you did.”
Once I’ve arranged for Marilyn to meet me at Escala, Christian slides those lovely nude slingback sandals onto my feet—where did these come from anyway? Well, I’m wearing them today, and they’re beautiful.
“Whenever you’re ready, baby,” he says, gently stroking my bruised cheek and looking lovingly into my eyes. I sigh and draw a little strength from him.
Everything goes off exactly as Christian said it would. I would have loved to see the Wall of Man walking Christian to the SUV as he effortlessly carries me out of the hospital. He hands me off to Al inside the Audi who instructs me not to remove the jacket while he belts me in. Once we’re all inside and the Audis are on their way, I uncover my head and take a deep breath, while Christian smooths my hair.
“Sir, I’ve checked with Marc and there are more reporters waiting at Escala,” Taylor informs us.
“Shit!” Christian hisses. “Maybe we should just go to the Fairmont for a few days…” he begins.
“Noooo!” I nearly wail, getting the attention of every man in the vehicle. “Please, no hotel. Just take me home.” Taylor looks at Christian who looks back at him then at me. After a moment, I realize that home could very well mean my condo. I lean on Christian’s chest and say, “Take me back to Escala… please.” I hear him sigh heavily and feel his body jerk. I know he has nodded at Taylor and we’re on our way back to Escala.
“Where’s my car?” I ask.
“It’s at the police station. You can pick it up anytime you like,” Christian responds.
“And my guns?”
“They’re there, too. You can have them when you show them your driver’s license and your CCW,” he says.
“They issue the CCW; they know I’m licensed,” I protest. Christian shrugs.
“You still have to show it.” Taylor says from the front seat. “They want to make sure that you have it on you when they release the firearms.” Oh, okay. That makes sense.
It’s a damn circus when we get back to Escala. I don’t know if it was this bad at the hospital, but there are a horde of paparazzi here. They can’t block the gates, but their flashes are relentless. Even with my head and face covered, I can see the lights. We stop for a moment and I feel Al leap from the SUV. A few moments later, Christian is guiding me into the elevator. He instructs me to keep my face covered until we get to the penthouse—just in case. Once we clear the doors of the penthouse and I’m standing in the great room, I drop the jacket and take in my surroundings.
Gail comes dashing from the kitchen upon our arrival but stops short a few feet in front of me. Her horror is written all over her face.
That’s it. I’m not leaving this apartment.
She stretches out her arms and I just walk into them, fighting the tears that threaten to fall. I am so tired of crying. I’m home now, away from the psycho ex-boyfriend and the asshole who likes to brutalize restrained women. I’m going to relax and enjoy the freedom.
“I have a secret tea recipe that you’re going to put in your pillowcase at night. Make sure you lie on it while you’re sleeping, and it’ll clear up that bruising twice as fast,” she says sweetly. I nod quickly without making eye contact. She gives me a squeeze and passes me off to Christian, who’s standing behind me. He lifts me effortlessly and sits me on the breakfast bar so that I’m nearly face-to-face with him and takes my face in his hands.
“I know that you’re not going to believe me when I tell you that you’re still beautiful, especially when people cringe when they see the bruising. But I can tell you that those of us who love you don’t care about it—that we’re just happy to have you home. I can tell you that the swelling will go down, and that the bruising will go away… and that no matter how grotesque you seem to think you look, I’m aching to kiss you.”
Isn’t he perfect?
I throw my arms around him and pull him close to me. He embraces me tightly, burying his face in my hair.
“Oh, Ana. I love you,” he says, his voice muffled in my neck.
“I love you, too, Christian,” I say, my eyes still closed while holding him close to me.
I don’t know what to do to convince Butterfly that she’s still as beautiful as the day that I met her, and that I’m not just saying that. I know the bruising is very bad, but for some reason, I don’t see it. I just see Butterfly. This is probably a good thing, because if I paid any attention to the bruising, I’d go down to the morgue, open a drawer and beat Harris’ dead body! Alas, I can’t kill him twice, so I’ll have to just take what comfort I can in the fact that the fucker is already dead.
My impromptu breakfast bar cuddle session is interrupted by the first wave of guests that rode with us in the SUVs.
“Are you okay?” I ask, looking in her face. She nods, tears threatening her eyes, but refusing to fall. “Good. Now let’s greet our guests.” I take her down from the breakfast bar and we go into my huge great room and sit on the couch. As Butterfly makes herself comfortable, her iPhone rings.
“Hello…? Oh, hey… All of the spaces on the far wall next to the elevator are Christian’s, just pick one… Okay, I’ll send Al down for you.” She ends the call.
“Marilyn?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ll take her to the library and get things squared away. I won’t be long.” She stands up and goes over to the breakfast bar talking briefly with Gail.
“How do you think she’s doing?” Garrett asks once she leaves.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I admit. “She’s taking the bruising on her face pretty badly. Her spirit is of course a little broken. I would expect that. She goes in and out of being herself. I think she’ll be much better once the swelling goes down… oh, shit! I’ll be right back!” I jump up and head for the door.
“Christian, where are you going?” Ana says before I make it out.
“I think I left my blackberry in the car,” I lie. Please don’t ring. Please don’t ring.
“Do you want me to go look for it, sir?” Taylor asks.
“Yes, please. Come here…” and I leave without any more explanation. Taylor follows me out the door and I give him my blackberry.
“When Marilyn gets up here, please tell her not to react to Ana’s bruising. Every time someone sees her for the first time, they grimace and it’s starting to get to her. I don’t care what you have to tell her but prepare her for Ana’s bruises. Okay?” I instruct Taylor.
“You got it, Boss,” Taylor nods.
“Good man,” I say, patting him on the arm before I go back into the penthouse. Ana turns around with two of her delicious cranberry spritzers in her hand. “Mmmm, is one of those for me?” I tease.
“No,” she scolds. “It’s for Marilyn. I thought you were her.” I put my hands on her hips.
“Not too much work, baby. Promise?” I caution.
“I promise. I’m only going to give her some instructions,” she says. I nod and kiss her nose.
“I love you, Butterfly,” I say softly.
“I know, Christian,” she says with a huge crooked smile and I give her the gentle peck I have adopted for us until the swelling in her lips goes down.
“I can’t wait until I can kiss you again,” I put my forehead on hers.
“Me, too,” she responds, and we just stand there in silence for a moment.
“All right, all right. Break it up. You have company,” Maxine says, walking into the great room. When did they get here? Marilyn comes in with the group and now the moment of truth. She marches over to Butterfly and looks at her from head to toe and back to head again.
“So, who do we need to fuck up, ’cause you know I will get my people,” she says to Butterfly who bursts out laughing. Thank God for that!
“Don’t worry, girl. They are thoroughly fucked,” Butterfly responds. Looking at the rolling bag behind Marilyn, she asks, “What did you do, bring the whole damn office?”
“I didn’t know what you needed besides the files for your appointments,” Marilyn shrugged.
“These are all appointments for the next two weeks?” Butterfly asks her.
“Yep,” Marilyn answers and Butterfly shakes her head.
“No can do. Unless people have been living under a rock, most of the country knows what happened to me. Well, my office is on the second floor so…” Her office. I love the sound of that.
“Here, let me help you with that…” I barely get the words out of my mouth when Garrett leaps over me like Spiderman and retrieves the bag from Marilyn.
“I’ll take that for you,” he says to Marilyn. She does a double take at Garrett, then seems to remember that other people are in the room.
“Um… yes… thank you,” she stutters, watching Garrett as he effortlessly takes the bag up to Butterfly’s office.
“Oh, my God, who is that?” Marilyn says a little dreamily.
“That’s my friend, Garrett. We’ll talk upstairs,” Butterfly says, handing Marilyn one of those spritzers and throwing a look at me before she ascends the stairs to her office. I shake my head and go back to the great room. What, does she have googly juice in her veins? First, Elliot and Valerie—who are trying to play it cool, but clearly can’t keep their hands off each other—and now Marilyn and Garrett. God, Marilyn will be such a welcome change from that nightmare, Bethany!
“Where’s your mind, Chris?” Allen asks as I sit down. I run my hand through my hair.
“I’m really worried about her. I hope this bruising goes down really quickly because it’s all that she sees. I keep trying to tell her that her friends and family love her and that we don’t care about the bruises, but she can’t hear me. And it doesn’t help that every time someone sees them for the first time, they jump, or they grimace…” I can hear the defeat in my own voice. “I love her so much, Allen. I just don’t know what to do to help her.” I rest my elbows on my knees and entwine my fingers together.
“You’re doing it now,” James interjects. “You’re by her side, showing her love, affection, and attention. She can’t see it right now, but when the bruising is gone, and she can see her face again, she’s going to remember how you treated her.” I sigh heavily.
“I hope you’re right. There’s nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do to make her happy. And that asshole David better be glad that he’s in police custody, because if he wasn’t, I swear I’d kill him.”
“Hey, you can’t say that in front of me! I’m technically an officer of the court!” Allen jests.
“Yeah, but you work for me, so it’s privileged information,” I protest.
“I don’t work for you yet, Mr. Grey. I haven’t made my decision,” he says, shaking a finger at me.
“Just a formality.” I wave my hand in the air. “You’ll love working for me.”
“I don’t know, I’ve seen your temper,” he scolds.
“Oh, please. You’re the only other person in my life besides my mother and my woman who’s been able to check me on anything.” James looks at me quizzically. “This man heard a silence—a silence—over the phone and chewed me out because of the pause.” Realization comes to James’ face.
“Ooooh, he caught you on the infamous pregnant pause,” James says. I nod.
“Oh, that’s not all. When we discovered that something wasn’t right with Butterfly, I was about to put plans into action to find her. I told him that I would call him back. I think his exact words were, ‘The fuck you will.’ He subsequently came to my home, read me like a book, then told me that I was fucking up the contingency and that I had to fall in line.” James laughs.
“Yes, I learned very early on that nothing will ever come between Al and his Jewel,” James says. Some unpleasant thought flashes through Allen and he drops his head and clears his throat. James quickly tangles his fingers into Allen’s and flashes him a full-on perfect smile. Allen returns a strained smile as he visibly squeezes James’ hand. I know how you feel, Al.
“You okay?” I ask. Allen nods that same nod Butterfly did on the breakfast bar. “Can I get you gentlemen something to drink? Wine? Beer?”
“Beer is fine for me,” James says and Allen agrees. I go into the kitchen where I’m greeted by a feisty—for lack of a better word—Gail Jones.
“Um, what are you doing in my kitchen?” she says, scolding with a hint of mirth. Geez, Butterfly has made everybody just relax like hell lately. What the fuck?
“Excuse me?” I say to her. Technically, this is my kitchen… you just work here.
“Forgive me. What are you doing in my kitchen, sir?” she corrects herself if you want to call it that.
“I thought this was my kitchen,” I protest.
“Just a formality,” she says, throwing my words back at me before tossing a dish towel onto the counter. “Mr. Grey, when was the last time you’ve been in this kitchen?” she asks seriously.
I know I have been, I just can’t think of it right now. I guess I was right. Butterfly has made everyone relax, including me. Before now, I wouldn’t have even made my way to the kitchen. I would have simply called Gail to serve drinks. Now, I find myself comfortably and unknowingly wandering in here to do things and get things even though I can’t even fry a damn egg! Not only that, I have taken to calling her Gail instead of Mrs. Jones—one of the rules I try very hard not to break with staff. It’s just that…
Spit it out, Grey.
Gail and Taylor don’t feel so much like staff these days. They feel more like friends. There, I said it… Happy now?
It’s the Butterfly Effect.
“Well, Mrs. Jones,” I say with mirth, “I’m going to uncork a red and a white. Would you please bring them into the great room with some glasses and a few bottles of beer…? and I’ll get out of your kitchen.”
She smiles at me as I remove a Cabernet from the wine rack and a Chardonnay from the wine cooler. I put the wines on the breakfast bar and I catch a glimpse of James and Allen. I’ve never known or watched a gay couple in any kind of intimate exchange. I’ve seen Ros and her wife hug one another, and I’ve seen same-sex D/s interactions, but nothing more than that… nothing really intimate like this.
Watching these two is very revealing in terms of their dynamic. Allen is clearly the caregiver. He’s the more emotional of the two, while James is the protector. I can clearly see the way that he holds and gently kisses Allen’s hand and rubs his back that he would be the one to pull out his Man of Steel cape if danger came to them.
He would be me.
I catch myself and stop staring before anyone sees me and proceeds to uncork the bottles. “I can take some of these things for you…”
“I have the portable bar, I can take care of it. Now, go on and let me do what you pay me for,” she says, shooing me out of the kitchen… which I think is kind of cute. She reminded me of Grace for a moment, even though she’s much younger. I come back to the great room.
“Did you forget the beer?” Allen says.
“No, I was shooed out of my own kitchen.” I scratch my head. “There was a time when she would never have done that to me.”
“Done what?” James asks.
“Made me leave my kitchen. I swear Butterfly has changed the whole dynamic of this place,” I answer.
“She never did tell me why you call her Butterfly,” Allen says, expectant. I explain the story behind the nickname and he immediately exclaims, “That’s it, James, I want a nickname.”
James smiles and says, “I’ll think of something.”
Just as Gail is rolling the serving cart out to the great room, Butterfly and Marilyn appear at the top of the stairs. Before I have a chance to turn my head, Garrett has dashed from his seat and up the stairs to collect her roller bag.
“It’s getting a little late, Marilyn. Would you please stay for dinner?” Butterfly asks.
“I would love that… if I’m not intruding,” Marilyn says graciously.
“Absolutely not! You’re my right arm! Please stay,” Butterfly implores her. I can see Marilyn is getting a little misty in the eyes when she relents.
“Thank you, Ana. It would be my pleasure.” Garrett’s face lights up like the first day of new snow.
“Gail, would you mind setting one more place, please?” I say discreetly.
“No problem, Mr. Grey.” She smiles.
I’m standing at the vanity in the bathroom, brushing my hair and daydreaming about the dinner that I just had with my family and friends. Ray seemed to get on well with everyone even though he was the oldest in the group as Carrick and Grace didn’t join us this evening. That may have something to do with Mandy being here, I admit. He and Christian snuck away a few times, which made me a little nervous, but it all seemed to work out by the end of the night. Dad is headed back to Montesano now that he knows I’m safe and sound. Mandy looks a little melancholy at the thought.
Val and Elliot are off and running. I’m still concerned about the “reboundness” of the whole situation, but they’re both adults and I won’t beat a dead horse. Maxine and Phil officially announced their engagement to everyone. I guess nobody got together this weekend waiting for me which is probably what prompted Al to call Christian in the first place.
Marilyn and Gary… now that’s a pleasant surprise. Marilyn’s a little more outgoing than Gary, but I really think that she might be good for him. Whoda thunk it?
I raise my eyes to the mirror to see the awfully bruised woman that looks back at me.
We made it. We didn’t die. We’re not chained to some stove somewhere like you thought we would be. We made it out.
I know. I can’t help it. I don’t know why I keep crying. I really want to stop. I don’t like it.
Yeah, I don’t either, but I’ll let it slide for right now. Have at it, Kid.
Don’t call me “Kid.”
The dam bursts and I just weep. I don’t know why—the scars, the experience of the last few days, crazy ass Edward… I don’t know. I didn’t know that he was there until he put his arms around my waist and lifts me off the floor, holding me close to him as I cry.
“I want… to stop… crying,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“I know,” he says, holding me firmly against him. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience. It’s okay to cry, as long as you don’t cry forever.” He kisses my hair, then puts me back on the floor. He takes a cool, wet washcloth and gently wipes my eyes and my face.
“Close your eyes.” I close my eyes and he gently blows the skin around my eyes several times. When he’s satisfied, he takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom.
“Why did you do that?” I ask softly.
“To dry the skin around your eye. Gail made a modified eye mask for you to sleep in. It has her secret tea inside of it that’s supposed to be a miracle with bruising and swelling. Mom says that she’ll come over tomorrow and change the bandages on your… wrists because…” He clears his throat and I can see it’s hard for him to talk about as well.
“They were raw under the wristbands,” I say. He nods.
“I thought the wristbands were there to prevent that. It turns out that they were there to cover it up… How did it get so bad in such a short period of time?” he asks in disbelief.
“I panicked when I regained consciousness,” I say. “He was trying to…” I swallow hard. He leads me to the bed and we sit down. “He was trying to have sex with me… while I was handcuffed to the bed and barely conscious. I woke up and he…” I won’t cry again… I won’t! “I freaked out… kicking and screaming and pulling at the cuffs until, well…” I hold my wrists up as a demonstration. “So, I guess it was supposed to be an act of kindness on his part. ‘Here, let me protect your wrists while I restrain you and hold you prisoner,'” I laugh nervously.
“I’ll never use metal cuffs on you,” he says, his head down. I hadn’t even thought about how this would affect our kinky playtime. I would never equate what Christian and I do to what Edward did to me.
“Let’s talk about it later, please? I want to sleep in the bed that I’ve been dreaming about for the last four nights.” He smiles at me and reaches for a bag on the nightstand.
“No more crying now, or this is going to seep into your eyes and we don’t want that,” he says, removing the mask from the bag.
“Okay,” I say as he gently put the mask on my eyes. I smell a mixture of things wafting from the mask…cloves or allspice, I think…ginger for sure…is that basil?
“This is making me hungry,” I joke. Christian laughs nervously and lays me down on the bed. After a few moments, we’re both lying down and he’s spooning me… in our bed. I have dreamed of being here and didn’t know if it would happen again. I sink into his chest and he kisses my neck. A jolt shoots right from that spot to my groin. Shit! Maybe he missed it.
Nope, he didn’t.
His penis jumps to life immediately and pokes me in the back. Oh, boy! He plants open mouthed kisses in the same spot and rubs my stomach where his hand holds me to him.
Breathe, Ana… damn, he feels good against me.
I don’t know what to do. The minute he rolls me over and sees the bruising… is the light out?
His hand moves up to my breast and pinches it hard.
“Uh!” I whimper as shivers go through me and my nipple hardens immediately. He turns me on my back… showtime… and licks, teases and bites my nipples through the satin.
“Ah!” I moan as pleasure jolts through me right to my core. His fingers dig into my hips as he teases my nipples mercilessly until I squirm.
He reaches down and pulls my satin nightgown up to my breast. He kisses my stomach and my navel, and then sticks his nose right at my center and sniffs hard through my panties.
“Aaaah! Christian!” I exclaim as I tangle my hands in his hair.
“Oh, Ana. You smell divine,” he says, pressing his nose against me and inhaling my scent once more. He decides to tease me by licking his tongue against the crotch of my panties.
“Oh! Oh, God.” My breath is coming in short.
“Oh, baby. I need to make love to you… please,” he beseeches me. The bruises!
“Christian, I…” He reacts immediately.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he says.
“I’m… I’m afraid…” I admit, just above a whisper.
“Of what?” he asks softly.
“Of… of…” As if he knows, he covers my body with his.
“Don’t be scared, baby. I got you,” he whispers. He raises the gown the rest of the way until I have to sit up for him to pull it over my head. With my sleep mask still in place, he shuffles on the bed a bit then removes my panties. When he removes my mask, he’s gloriously naked above me… and the bed lamp is on!
“Christian…” I protest, my hands moving to cover my face. He gently grabs my hands before they get to my face.
“No…” he whispers. “I want to look at you.” I look up at him and his eyes are full of desire and lust. “Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say in the same whisper.
“You have to keep your hands on me,” he instructs as he parts my legs and puts my hands on his shoulders. “You can touch me anywhere you want, but they have to stay on me, okay?”
“Okay,” I say breathily as he positions himself at my opening.
“Here we go, Baby.” And he slowly starts to push himself inside me. I gasp as he begins to fill me… a push then a wiggle, then he pulls himself out again and repeats the motion… filling me a little each time until he’s filling me completely. Once he has worked his way all the way to the hilt, he pulls out and slides in again slowly, releasing a strained breath as he does. Oh… it feels phenomenal.
“Oh, Christian,” I mewl as I tangle my fingers in his hair and throw my head back.
“Oh, God, you are so beautiful,” he breathes as he hooks his hands underneath my arms and around my shoulders, pulling my body closer to his. He kisses my neck and then down my jawline, all the time moving and grinding slowly and deliciously in and out, in and out… I feel him stiffen and start to tremble, his breath in short gasps. I know he’s fighting his orgasm.
“You can come, baby,” I say, knowing why he’s holding out.
“No… not yet.” he says, breathing roughly. “We’ve waited too long for this. I want to savor it. I want you to feel me…” he says as he thrusts gently into me again. And feel him, I do!
“Ah! Oh, yes!” I gasp as he starts his slow rhythm again. I can feel my quiver begin. “Ah! Baby!” I squeak.
“Look at me, beautiful,” he says, and I open my eyes and gaze into his, dilated fully and almost black, his copper curls shaking with his trembles as he tries to reign in his desires and fend off his impending orgasm. My body calls to him, to his desires and I nearly screech as the burning in my hips and pelvis close in on my center and his intense, deep slow thrusts. My arms wrap around his neck as I pull him close to me and ride the waves of this immense orgasm, his member throbbing and pulsating inside me and causing my body to jerk even more.
“My God, Christian!” I wail as the aftershocks rip through me… like I haven’t been touched in weeks. He’s breathing heavily, his face buried in my neck. Did he come? He answers my question by starting the movement again in his hips, planting open mouthed kisses along my collarbone, loving me so deeply, so completely.
“Oh, Christian, what are you doing to me?” I whisper as I feel the desire and passion building in me again.
“I’m loving you, baby,” he whispers, his breath strained. “Oh, God, you feel so good.” He leans down and takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking it just hard enough to cause that spark. I wrap my legs around him.
“Oh, God, Ana!” he growls, and I swear he’s going to lose the fight right there, but he stops his stroke… still feasting on my breast and throbbing inside me. Oh, good Lord, this is fantastic! Moments later he starts his stroke again. Talk about orgasm denial… he’s denying himself! He’s giving me the most exquisite sensations—intense stroking which can only lead to intense release, and he’s denying himself. His hand releases my shoulder and comes around to the lonely nipple, showing it tantalizing attention… and the fire starts to burn again.
“Aaaaah! Christian! God!” I moan.
“Ummm-hmmm. Are you coming again, beautiful? Come on… give it to me, Baby.” And I cry out again, this one more intense than the last. I felt it in my toes this time.
“Christian… please… I can’t…” I fall limp in his arms.
“Yes, you can,” he coaches. “I was going for four, but I know that you can give me just one more.” I’m exhausted… so spent and so drained. I don’t know where he thinks I’m going to find this third orgasm…
But no one says no to Christian Grey.
He has found his sexual resistance and his second wind, and he’s stroking with purpose… still slow, still smooth, still delicious—but deep—deep and grinding into my pelvis with each movement,
“Ah, Christian, please…” I beg as I feel myself building again.
“You can do it, baby. You’re so hot, so hot for me. I feel it on your skin. And you smell so good…” he says as he quickly shifts us so that he’s on his knees and I’m sitting on him. His hands are splayed across my back as he holds me tight against him, rocking his hips deeply into me. Oh. My. Hell!
“Haah! Oh, Ana!” he growls. “You’re so wet, baby. So sexy…” he says as he presses his head against my chest and plunges slowly into me again. Oh, sweet Jesus.
“Oh God, Chris…tian,” I protest, running out of breath and strength.
“Give me one more, baby. You can do it,” he says, his voice honey smooth as he runs the nails of one of his hands down my back.
“Fuck!” I yelp as the sensation travels down my spine and straight to my center. He’s never done that before… and I like it!
“Look at me,” he commands, and I look him in the eyes. “Open your mouth.” Huh? Swollen lips here! I open my mouth slightly.
“Wider,” he commands as he thrusts into me again.
“Aaahaaa!” My mouth flies open, and he gently sticks his tongue inside… massaging mine without aggravating my lips. I lick his with mine and oh my God. This is the hottest thing in the world! Our mouths are open, and we’re sensuously licking and massaging each other’s tongue and breathing each other’s breath. It’s highly erotic and intensely passionate and intimate. We don’t close our eyes while we do this. We gaze at one another while our bodies move as one. And the tremors are starting again. I whimper as I lose the strength in my legs.
“Mmmm, yes,” he says, gently licking my swollen lips. Oh, God, what the hell? I don’t know where I find the strength, but I begin to slowly match his strokes. He brings his hand up and down hard—slapping my ass and clutching my ass cheek as I stroke. I yelp and dig my nails into his arms. I remember the scratches on his thigh and try not to repeat the whole “battle scars” thing. I’m bruised enough for both of us right now, but holy cow, Batman—he is loving every bruise, every single inch of me. My breath is coming in very heavy as it feels like his dick is expanding inside me and I ride him even harder. That hand comes down on my ass again and I know I’m close.
“Christian!” I yelp, as I continue to match his slow stroke.
“Yes, baby, that’s it. That’s it. Ssssss, ooo, I like that,” he hisses in my ear. “I’m close, baby. I’m really close. Come on, baby…” he says as he grabs my ass with his left hand and with his right…
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Ooooohhh fuuuuuucccckk!” I splutter as the third and final orgasm rips through me mercilessly. With him thrusting into me so deep, I feel this one in my stomach and my thighs and I forget about his poor arms. I’m holding on for dear life as I’m wailing with pleasure, tearless cries and whimpers springing from my lips. And finally, he releases—hard, hot, and long!
“Uuuuuuuuughh! Uuugh! Uugh! Ugh! Ugh!” he grunts loudly and deeply from his stomach. “Oh, fuck, baby! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he cries as he thrusts into me—short, hard strokes that eek out every bit of his juice. He’s breathing very hard now.
“Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod,” he repeats between breaths as I feel him still thrusting small thrusts and throbbing inside me, causing me to shiver on top of him. “Fuck, Ana, fuck!” he exclaims at my slight movement. “Please, oh, God, please keep still,” he begs as he again holds me tightly to him.
“Okay,” I whisper, still fighting for my own breath. “But I can’t be held responsible for the tremors,” I squeak in one breath.
“Okay. Okay,” he says, still throbbing, but not as much. We sit there for a few more minutes, catching our breath and trying to get our nether regions to relax. He finally lifts me off of him and we both wince a little. He lays me back on the bed and lays in my chest for a moment.
“You are incredible,” he whispers to me.
“You are remarkable,” I whisper back. He leans up and gives me our special “swollen lip” peck and then replaces my mask. He positions me just so on the pillow and I’m assuming that Gail’s tea remedy is somewhere inside the pillowcase. He scoots against me in the bed.
“Naked spooning?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, please,” he says as he cuddles in behind me and kisses that same spot that started all of this.
“Goodnight, my beautiful Butterfly.”
A/N: Check out the pictures on pinterest at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele/
You can also see who I envision as MY characters in PAGING DR. STEELE (not FSOG—PAGING DR STEELE) on http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele-characters/. Please, please read the descriptions. I have made some people taller, shorter, older, younger, and brought back the dead. So, don’t think of the previous roles you have seen the actors playing. Think of the picture you’re looking at and how I have described them.
We’re winding down!
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