This is a work of 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 65—Coming Home to Roost
It’s nearly 8pm when Jason and I make it back to Escala… and I forgot to call Butterfly. I was too concerned with putting things in motion with Morgan. He was crushed to hear those things about the Pedophile, especially from me… her greatest accomplishment. However, even at his young age, he could see the complete dysfunctionality of the situation. He could only see Shane as competition, not as another young victim of a sick mind. Once I was able to help him see that and the fact that there were so many more that will probably never come forward, he was very remorseful about his actions and only wanted to help put this sick bitch behind bars.
I advised him to go home and get some rest, have a good meal and we would formulate a plan of action. This would mean coming clean with his parents as well as helping to explain what happened to Shane. I’m not sure if the Hemsteads can be convinced not to press charges against him for the beating that Shane received, but I’ll ask Dad to try. All of this will have to be done with no proof of my involvement, so I had to pass the information on to my dad who was only too happy to hear that we had someone willing to come forward on this predator. He assures me that even without Shane’s cooperation, with Morgan’s testimony and the pictures that Welch was able to get, we have enough evidence for a search warrant… and I’m sure she’s toast after that.
When we walk into the great room, Gail is putting the remainder of dinner away. She throws a look at Jason that lets me know he hadn’t called home either. We’re both probably in the dog house.
“I apologize, Mrs. Taylor,” I begin on Jason’s behalf. “We had a last-minute situation that couldn’t be avoided. We both lost track of time and hadn’t realized that we didn’t call home.”
“Don’t give me that Mrs. Taylor crap,” she says, half angry and half jesting. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry. I didn’t wake Ana for dinner because she seemed like she had such a rough day, I didn’t want to disturb her just for her to have to eat alone.”
“Ana didn’t eat dinner?” What the hell? What rough day?
“No, she came in, took a bath, and very shortly afterwards, she was asleep.”
“She said she had a rough day?” I ask. As far as I knew, she was here until she went to GEH for the press conference, then she went to her office. She only could have been there for two hours tops. What was so rough about her day, besides the blonde bimbo that asked her about my money?
“Well, she didn’t say that she had a rough day, but she was a bit out of sorts. She was very upset about something one of the reporters had said to her…” I knew it, “… then she said something about saying things that she shouldn’t have said. After that, she went to your room and she hasn’t been out since.”
Is she upset about what happened? I mean, reporters are assholes, but of course, Butterfly hasn’t come face to face with that realization yet.
“How long has she been asleep?” I ask.
“About two and a half hours,” she replies. I sigh heavily. She’s probably pissed at me. I walk into our bedroom and find her laying out on our bed in the shortest little shorts and a tank top, her hair in a ponytail. She looks like a college kid. Soft music is coming from her iPod and her tablet is in her hand. I go to move it and the screen comes alive. There’s a picture on her desktop of the two of us standing at the elevator at GEH. I was just looking at that picture not two hours ago. I wonder if we were looking at it at the exact same time?
I squat down next to the bed and kiss both of her eyes, then her nose, then her cheeks, then her lips. She whimpers slightly.
“Baby… wake up. You need to eat.”
“Hmm?” she protests.
“You need to eat, Butterfly. It’s getting late,” I say kissing her lips again.
“What time is it?” she asks trying to open her eyes.
“Nearly eight,” I say, stroking her hair.
“Eight?” she protests weakly. “Why did you let me sleep so long?”
“It’s only been a couple of hours, Butterfly. Besides, Jason and I just got in.” She glares at me.
“You just got in? What…?”
“I’m so sorry that I’m so late and I didn’t call you, but I had to talk to a kid about a Pedophile,” I say cutting her off.
“What?” I can imagine that must be the strangest thing to hear when you are just waking up. I sit on the edge of the bed and she sits up, stretching her arms and legs.
“Lincoln was in Anguilla. She found out that we were there when the paparazzi discovered it and she flew down there just as we were leaving.”
“How did you find this out?” she asks.
“The mole… she was an ex-sub of Lincoln’s.” Butterfly’s face falls. I don’t dare try to decipher what she’s thinking. “Apparently, during one of the hiring campaigns, Lincoln accessed my home computer and entered Meyers as a candidate for PR. She’s been watching me for three years, reporting my every damn move.” I run my hands through my hair. This woman inserted herself into every possible aspect of my life.
“Meyers leaked that we were in Anguilla so that the Paps could find us and Lincoln could just show up, but by the time she got there we were already gone. She got back today and immediately planned on seeing Shane, but he was released to his parents, which is a whole new mess by the way. Shane was almost removed from the home for the bruises left on him by Lincoln.” Butterfly gasps.
“They thought his parents did that to him! Of course, they would—they have no evidence to the contrary,” she deduces.
“Exactly. My father pulled some strings and got him released to the Hemsteads, but this isn’t over… not by a long shot.” I sigh heavily. “I know that Lincoln has wormed her way into the homes of many of Seattle society and Grace will not badmouth that woman for anything. So, I’m afraid that if she’s not exposed very soon, she’ll either weasel her way into the Hemsteads home and convince them to trust Shane with her to help ‘get things straightened out’ like she did with Grace and me, or that she’ll soon be moving on to another victim since Shane will be inaccessible. I just couldn’t live with it, Butterfly. I couldn’t let it go on.” She scoots closer to me on the bed.
“What did you do?” she asks.
“I located Morgan Stampwell and went to talk to him. The statute on his molestation hasn’t run out yet. All I need is for him to press charges and tell the police what happened to him. Even if he doesn’t have proof, with the pictures that we have of Lincoln with Shane, it’s enough to get a search warrant. It would be great if we could get Shane to testify, too, but we may have to just go with what we have… and the bruises all over Shane—those speak for themselves.”
“Oh, Christian,” she puts her arms around my neck and pulls me close to her. It’s the most wonderful feeling right now. I wrap my arms around her and smell her hair. I’m home. She pulls me back and looks into my eyes. “This must be so hard for you,” she says, her voice full of compassion.
“It’s hard to relive this shit now that the rose-colored glasses have been removed.” I rub my eyes. “That kid looks just like me… same build, similar eyes and hair, same lost look in his eyes. She’s been trying to find my Doppelganger, Ana. All of these years, she’s been trying to build a better mousetrap, so to speak. She’s been trying to replace her favorite pet… her greatest accomplishment… and she’s been telling this to these boys. They’ve been striving to be me and never quite making the mark and when they age out, she just leaves them high and dry… after she has ruined them.” I stand and start pacing the room. “How many of them have there been? How many have there really been? We can estimate, but we don’t really know. Was there one between Shane and Morgan that just didn’t work out? Oh, Ana…”
I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I can’t stand how this feels. I want to choke this woman and watch the life seep from her very eyes for what she has done. I still can’t see how I was so blind for all of these years, and seeing the emotional torment that Morgan was suffering because of this discovery just makes me angry and sick and dizzy all at the same time. How can someone be so heartless, cruel, and selfish? Can’t she see what she’s doing to these children? How can she just not care? How can she be so blind?
I’m not sure what happens next but I’m now on the floor and Butterfly is kneeling next to me. I swear, I must have clocked out for a minute because she’s holding my face, calling my name, and crying her eyes out. Almost in slow motion, I see Jason and Gail rush into the room. Jason kneels next to Butterfly and I take her face in both of my hands.
“I’m fine,” I say looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m fine.” I sit up and kiss her gently on the lips to calm her frantic breathing.
“What happened?” Jason asks as he extends a hand to help me up.
“He was talking about Elena and the next thing I knew, he just grabbed his hair and dropped. He couldn’t even hear me,” Butterfly explains, her voice shaking.
“I’m fine, really,” I try to reassure them getting to my feet. “It was just a bit much for a moment.”
“Should I call Dr. Grey?” Gail asks.
“Oh, good God, don’t call my mother,” I say, waving my hand. My mom’s a great doctor, but she’ll treat me like a baby.
“Flynn?” Jason offers.
“It’s too late, tonight. I’ll call him tomorrow.” Nobody knows more than I do that I definitely need to talk about this one, and I don’t want to burden my Butterfly with all that she’s already carrying.
“Will you be okay, Boss?” Jason asks, and I nod.
“I’ll be fine. It was just a bit much to take is all,” I say. “I really need to eat something, and so should you,” I say to Butterfly. She nods at the suggestion and Jason and Gail leave the room. She comes over to me and loosens my tie.
“I can listen if you need to talk, Christian. I won’t shrink you,” she says, pulling my tie from under my collar and pushing my jacket from my shoulders.
“I know, Baby. I got Morgan to agree to press charges so that’s the good thing, but I don’t want to talk about that woman tonight. I really don’t.” She nods as she places my jacket on the bed and starts to unbutton my shirt. She removes my cufflinks and puts them on the chest of drawers, then pushes my shirt off of my shoulders and puts it on herself. She hasn’t looked in my eyes since she took my jacket off of me. Now she’s standing here in my shirt—which is longer than her shorts—undressing me and looking all adorable. I kick off my shoes and use my feet to remove my socks while she undoes my belt buckle and my pants. She pushes my pants down and they pool at my ankles.
She stands there for a moment, just looking at my body. I watch her eyes roam from my calves up my thighs past my pelvis over my abs and stop at my chest. Her fingers trace over the scars there and I wince a bit. I’m still not accustomed to the first touch, but then my body realizes that it’s Butterfly and I relax. Her lips replace her fingers and she gently kisses each cigarette burn as her hands travel over my biceps and down my forearms until they reach my hands. She brings them to her lips, and she kisses each finger, so softly. She places my hand against her face and leans into my touch.
“I love you,” she whispers, looking into my eyes, loving blue to longing gray. “I’ll never let her hurt you again.”
“I know,” I respond softly.
She launches herself into my arms and I catch her, kissing her madly and quickly walking over to the bed to lie down with her. My body covers hers and I frantically kiss every part of her face that I see. She is hope and love and all things good in my life. I want to absorb her essence into me and never let her go. There’s a light tap at the door and Gail hesitantly says, “Christian, Ana, I’ve reheated dinner.” I close my eyes and put my forehead to Butterfly’s.
“Later?” I ask wistfully.
“Later,” she breathes, pulling my face down to hers and kissing me again.
We join Jason and Gail in the kitchen after I dress in some jeans and a T-shirt. I feel the need to have people around me, so I ask them to join us for dinner. Gail has already eaten but agrees to have a glass of wine at the table with us while we eat. Butterfly confesses her angst about the last question from the interview and forever being pegged as a gold-digger. I’m able to comfortably discuss the whole Meyers situation and Dad’s next steps with Morgan and Shane, which will take place tomorrow. Gail mentions that the press conference has been repeated most of the day and will no doubt make the morning headlines and gossip rags. Jason just interjects when he can, talking about the buzz around the office with the department head meeting tomorrow.
“I have a department head meeting at least once a month. Why is everybody suddenly so concerned about this one?” I state, already knowing the answer.
“Because they know somebody’s head is going to roll,” Jason responds before taking a forkful of his food.
“Damn straight,” I comment. “If they were more concerned about their departments before now, we wouldn’t be having this meeting.”
“I bet they’ll be concerned now,” Butterfly interjects, and I nod. We comfortably have coffee and dessert, after which Gail and Butterfly clear the dishes and I excuse myself to take a much-awaited shower.
I don’t know what came over me. I just couldn’t stand the thought of this woman with her claws in yet another boy… yet another child. I saw so much of me in Morgan. He looked so lost, so young for his life to be going down the drain already. He’s only 19 and has no idea what he wants to do with his life, except chase this sick bitch around. It seemed so unfair. Suddenly, I felt victimized all back over again—but it wasn’t me, so I couldn’t understand why I was feeling it. It was almost unbearable. I resign that I certainly must run this by Flynn when I talk to him again. I rinse my hair and step out of the shower. I feel world’s better now.
I enter my bedroom to see my Butterfly standing next to my chest of drawers still wearing my shirt… and nothing else.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Gail asks as we put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.
“I’m not sure. I’ll be glad when he talks to Flynn. Every other time he’s talked about her or this situation, he’s either been pretty resolved or very angry. I’ve never seen him like this before. He seemed so vulnerable and helpless,” I observe.
“I know. It was a little frightening. Flynn usually brings him back when he has some kind of episode like this. I wouldn’t worry.” She leans in and hugs me. “And now he has you, too. He’ll be just fine.” She smiles and I nod. “I’m going to turn in now. My husband is waiting for me.”
“Goodnight, Gail. Sleep well,” I say before heading back to the bedroom.
Christian is still in the shower when I get to the bedroom. My Blank and Jones playlist is still going, and the room is filled with a combination of nature sounds and sweet music. It feels peaceful. I take off his shirt and remove my shorts and my tank top. I stand there naked for a moment, just letting the music wash over me, cleansing me like music often does when I’m confused, distraught, or unhappy. I release my hair from the ponytail and let it cascade down my back. I let three songs wash away my troubles before I hear the shower stop. I put Christian’s shirt back on and stand next to the chest of drawers with my eyes closed still enjoying the music until the en suite door opens.
I open my eyes to watch my man emerge from the steam of the en suite, his hair and chest still wet and a towel wrapped around his waist. His shirt is open, barely covering my breasts. I walk over to him and allow my fingers to glide across the dusting of wet hairs on his chest. He flinches a bit like he always does when I touch his chest, then I feel him relax under my fingers. I pay attention to the rise and fall of his chest before I kiss him there again, like I had done not two hours before. I feel his heartbeat under my lips. I close my eyes and take in his scent as I trail my hands gently over his body. He shivers under my touch and it turns me on. I want him. I want to taste him and feel him and love him.
I unwrap the towel from his body and let it fall to the floor. He’s gloriously wet and the water from his hair is dripping onto his chest. I slowly fall to my knees and kiss his stomach and his hips, the fronts of his thighs. The anticipation causes a twitch in his manhood. I stand and take his hand, lead him to the bed and lay him on his back. I watch him put the towel in his hand on the pillow behind his head as I stand at the foot of the bed, gazing at his magnificent body. I run my hands over myself—just once—my hips, my stomach, my breasts, before I lower myself onto the bed and place my lips on the tops of his feet.
He gasps again at the initial contact, but I believe it’s because I’ve never done that before. My lips travel further up his body, and I leave open-mouthed kisses on his ankles, his calves, his shins, his knees—achingly slowly traveling to his thighs, his hip bones and straight across his pelvis. His breathing increases and I can feel the heat increase between my legs. It’s hard to keep this pace, but I need to go slowly… to savor the flavor of his skin, the feel of him on my tongue. I moan into his abs as I hold on to his hips.
“Mmmmm,” I hear him moan as he absorbs my kisses. His hands gently grip the bedding as my lips travel back down to his pelvis and begin to explore that luscious “V” that leads to one of my favorite places on his body. I’m trailing feather light kisses on the groove of his hips getting closer and closer to the sensitive skin in the crease of his thigh. His breath catches as I travel down the trail of his “V,” planting open-mouthed kisses and tasting his flavor as I go. He stiffens as I worship his body, licking and tasting the moisture left behind by his recent shower. At this moment, I’m appreciating the fact that my man works out as I watch his abs, his thighs, his pelvis, and of course his penis tense and flex in response to my taunting. He’s deliciously sexy—a work of art and a masterpiece of the male form.
“Ana!” His voice is tortured as he fights to maintain his composure, still clinging to the duvet and breathing heavily as I pass my tongue slowly and languidly down one valley then the other, pushing his legs open to give me unfettered access to this area that drives him wild.
“Oh God!” The words tear from his throat, raspy and hoarse, and egging me on as I continue to tease his sensitive flesh.
“Ana, please,” he begs as I look up at him through my lashes. His eyes are molten, dark, fixed and unblinking begging me to put him out of his misery. I continue my assault on the tasty “V” and he groans in erotic agony as his manhood twitches magnificently, stroking the side of my cheek with each lick, each kiss. I want to relish this moment, his flavor, his smell; I’m taking my time—I will not be rushed.
Once I reach the southernmost part of his valley of pleasure, I dart my tongue out to slowly and deeply caress his testicles while I fist his erection and stroke long and firm. He growls at the sensation and his head falls back on the bed. I hold him at the base of his cock, which stands at full attention for me. I take the head into my mouth and suck, running my tongue along the rim and head.
“Ah! Ah! Oh, God!” he cries in ecstasy as his stomach begins to tremble. I drop my head slowly so that my mouth strokes his erection, deep and long, then pull back strongly collecting every bit of moisture the down stroke left behind.
“God! Ana, you’re going to kill me!” he exclaims, his knuckles now white from gripping the bedding. Oh no, Baby, I’m going to please you. I close my eyes and savor the flavor of his skin in my mouth, his most intimate place between my lips as I drop my head again on his erection, my lips meeting my hand this time.
“Oh, God, help me!” Okay, now I’ve got the man praying! I think we have lift off! I increase my speed just a fraction, just enough to set a slow, delicious rhythm. I release the base of his erection and let my mouth do all the work while my hands wander up and down his hard body.
“Oh yes, baby, yes,” he croons as he begins to slowly stroke my mouth. Yes, that’s what I want… feel me making love to you. His hands tangle in my hair, but he gently holds my head and lets me set the pace. I manage to get a look at him again and his head is back, that position that he often takes when he’s lost in ecstasy, his mouth is open and the tip of his tongue is pressed hard against his top lip. I continue to slowly drag my lips and tongue along his manhood, up and down, up and down, up and down. His fingers tighten in my hair, but he still doesn’t push my head. I know he’s close, and he’s letting me love him. I close my eyes and take him into my throat and his legs being to shake.
“Ana, baby!” he cries as he deepens his stroke. He’s still trying to control it, but he’s losing the battle. His abs tighten violently, and I know that he’s trying not to thrust into my mouth. Without losing my rhythm, I drop down hard on him, then rise and drop again. On the third drop, he groans loudly.
“Baby!” he pants. “Baby… here I come, baby… aaahhh! Aaaaahh!” He releases gloriously into my mouth and down my throat, his cock twitching hard between my locked jaws. ”
Aaah… Ana, God! Aaah!” I release my jaws and run my lips up and down his still impressive and jerking erection.
“B… Baby… aahh!” He releases his final juices into my mouth and his hips fall limp onto the bed as he breathes heavily in the aftermath of his orgasm. I begin the journey again along the sensitive skin between his thighs and he’s twitching almost uncontrollably. After a couple of minutes, he’s rising again from the stimulation and I begin to kiss my way back up his body. His breathing is erotic as I kiss from his stomach to his chest and up to his neck. I’m still wearing his shirt, but it’s open and my body is exposed so that I can feel his skin against mine.
His hands grip my hips over his shirt as I grind against him, my clitoris rubbing against his shaft. A gasp of air escapes me—it feels so good. I bite the skin on his neck and his hands travel around to my ass, grabbing it firmly and thrusting into me meeting my grind against him. I don’t want to make a sound. I don’t want to distract the feeling from him, but this feels so good and I know that he’s aware of it. He’s watching me as I’m breathing hard, my legs wrapped around his thighs, my hands on his chest, and my clit grinding into his erection—over and over again. I’m breathing through my open mouth, refusing to cry out, but quickly approaching my first release… any… second… now…
I whimper quietly as fire sears through my clitoris and up through my hips. As I start to shake, he holds my hips steady against him and tenderly kisses my neck as the pleasure flows through me. When my release ebbs, I grab his face in my hands and kiss him hungrily and passionately while adjusting my hips just enough to slide onto his erection while my muscles are still pulsating. I gasp into his mouth at the unbelievable fullness. He grasps me strongly around my waist.
“Aw, fuck!” he exclaims quietly as I slowly start to stroke him. I take his mouth again and work him deeply, pulling him into me balls deep on each grind and feasting on his kisses like a starving woman. He’s groaning into my mouth trying to hold me against him as my hips mercilessly ride his impressive shaft. I come up for air, but keep my hands on his face and his lips close to mine.
“Rien n’est mieux que nos corps profondément enlacé,” he groans, pleasure heavy in his voice. Oh my God, he’s speaking French as he raises his hips only slightly on each down stroke.
“Christian,” I whimper, “te sentir glisser en moi, me remplir à perfection. Je n’ais jamais connue une telle sensation…”
“moi non plus, mon amour, mon soleil, mon Papillon,” he breathes, and we are locked in a kiss again.
We’re at it forever it seems. One of us reaches a near-climax and slows down because we don’t want it to end, only to build back up to the fiery passion that we were feeling before. The ebb and flow continues until both our bodies are drenched in sweat and crying for release. When we can finally hold out no more, our cries float across Elliot Bay as our cosmic orgasms rip our bodies in two.
Oh… mon amour…
She is so hot… so sexy. We’re both dripping when it’s all over, but we don’t dare try to move. She’s completely spent and splayed across my body, my flaccid manhood still cocooned inside of her. We’re lying on top of the duvet and I have no idea how to cover us without disturbing this awesome post-coital cuddle we have going on. Fuck it. I hit the switch near the headboard and turn off the bedside lamp, then I grab the duvet on either side of us and wrap us in it like a burrito. I’m asleep in moments.
I awake the next morning and we’re still wrapped in the duvet, but Butterfly has rolled over onto the bed and has somehow molded her body into mine. Her hair is all over my face and I don’t even know how I slept like this. I have her clamped securely in my arms and legs. When I inhale, I catch the strong scent of Butterfly and almost slide back into comfort again. That’s how I was able to sleep through the night with a face full of hair. I stretch my free arm and leg, then reluctantly move Butterfly’s hair from my face. I kiss her neck and ear before running my hand along her body.
“Mmmmm,” she whimpers, “fifteen more minutes, please.” She’s too adorable.
“I don’t know about you, Butterfly, but I have to get into the office. This is going to be a shitstorm of a day for me.” I kiss her neck again.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about what you have on your plate today,” she says sleepily with a stretch. She’s still wrapped in my dress shirt from yesterday and her pink nipple taunts me as she stretches. I lean down and suck it into my mouth, just to get an early morning taste of her skin.
“Oh, no you don’t, Mr. Grey,” she purrs while playfully pushing my head away from her. “You said you need to get to the office, and I don’t want you in the office late like you were yesterday, so jump to it, gorgeous.”
“Mmm, gorgeous… I like that. How about a little quickie before I dash?” I grab her leg and, in one quick movement, roll her over to straddle me and onto my morning woody. She gasps as I slip into her, and her warmth wraps around me.
“What makes you think you can make me come quickly?” she says, her voice breathy with desire.
“The fact that I know your body and I know what you like,” I respond grinding my hips up into hers. A second gasp lets me know that I’m right. “Do you want me to prove it?” I ask seductively.
“Show me what you got, Grey,” she says with a “come hither” smirk on her face.
“Are you going to fight it?” I ask rocking my pelvis into her core. She shakes her head.
“Uh-uh,” she groans while biting her lip. I flip her over quickly without losing my stroke and raise her knees up to my hips. Now I’m fucking, dick going into her balls deep on each down stroke, grinding and digging into that pussy like the buried treasure that it is. That sex sheen shows up on her body almost instantly.
“Oh!” she moans in pleasure as I push her to the edge with deep, deliberate strokes.
“Hands over your head,” I command softly, and she reaches for the headboard. My shirt on her falls open and her highly aroused breasts are looking up at me. Not yet, ladies… almost. I hook my arm under her left knee and raise it higher, opening her core wider to my growing, throbbing cock. I feel her getting wetter as I work that poor little pink pussy.
“Mmmmmmm.” A tortured moan escapes her chest.
“Do you feel it, Baby?” I coo, maintaining the deep stroke and grinding into her soft center and pretty little clitoris.
“Yes… oh, yes…” she breathes, panting heavily and clenching her fists above her head.
“Do you want it?” I coax, seductively. I feel her tightening around me. I told you I knew your body, Butterfly.
“Yes… oh, God… yes, please…” That’s it, baby, one good hard one for the road.
“Then feel it, Baby, take it!” I growl as I grind hard into her on those last two words. She starts that falsetto cry that lets me know she’s about to come. I quickly move my hands to her hands, tangling my fingers in hers and holding them down while simultaneously sucking one of her luscious nipples into my mouth.
“Ah! Christian, baby!” she sings as she writhes underneath me. I rotate my hips, grinding into her and drawing out her orgasm. It takes me a little longer to reach mine, but with a little concentration, a mouth full of nipple, and a warm and wet pussy on my cock, I find my release about a minute or so after she does. We lay on the bed, breathless and sated after our quickie.
“Wow,” she breathes, “I didn’t think we could do it that fast.”
“That’s because we’re always concentrating on prolonging the pleasure and never on just finding the release,” I say, kissing her neck then her cheek.
“That’s a good thing though.” She closes her eyes and relaxes on the bed underneath me.
“A very good thing, but now we know we can do quickies, too,” I laugh, and she giggles with me. “I love to hear you laugh.”
“I love to hear you laugh, too,” she says. “You’re always so serious.” I sigh.
“Well, as much as I hate to break up this lovely coupling, I do need to get to the seriousness this morning. My father is meeting me and Morgan at my office this morning and they’re going to proceed with Operation Down with The Pedophile.” I kiss her quickly on the lips and roll off of her, both of us wincing as I withdraw. “What time do you need to be in the office?”
“I’m going in at about 9:00. My first patient isn’t until 11 and I only scheduled two patients today. It’s going to be a light week, but I’ll be back to normal next week,” she replies. I stand up knowing that I need another shower after our sweaty tryst last night.
“Do you want to shower with me?” I ask. She shrugs her shoulders and follows me to the en suite. We quickly shower and choose our clothes for the day. I have an extremely serious and stressful day ahead of me and I need every fucker that comes in contact with me today to know that I mean business. On that note, I grab my James Bond Brioni black suit and tie. I know this suit speaks to you before you see it coming and that’s what I need. I’m only in boxers and socks by the time Butterfly makes her way to the closet. I dress in shirt, tie, pants, shoes and jacket, then return to the closet for cuff links. I’m frozen at the door as I watch Butterfly bending over in Agent Provocateur black bra and panties and straightening her stocking.
For the love of fuck! I just fucked this woman and she’s making me want to fuck her again!
She slides into a sleek maxi skirt with taupe and black chevron designs and a black sleeveless mock turtleneck. She sits down to put on her Christian Louboutin black leather-covered and taupe suede boots and she still doesn’t realize that I’m watching her. She’s picking jewelry out of the box on the island when she finally catches a glimpse of me leaning against the door frame and turns around to look. Like me five minutes ago, she freezes on the spot. She looks like a deer caught in headlights.
“Whoa,” she breathes, the word barely escaping her lips. Okay, that’s the response I wanted. Now I know this is the right suit. I stroll over to her and put my arms around her waist.
“You look ravishing, Butterfly,” I whisper seductively in her ear while nipping her earlobe.
“So do you,” she says, softly, leaning into my lips.
“Still wearing the turtlenecks, I see,” I say with a smirk.
“I forgot about the tea,” she says clearing her throat, “so I had to stop by my condo and get some more ‘hickey-hiding’ clothing.” She smirks back at me.
“Mmmm, how many of these do you have?” I ask, exposing her neck. She puts her hand on my chest.
“Oh, no you don’t, Grey,” she says, pushing me back gently. “I refuse to wear turtlenecks for the rest of my life,” she adds firmly. I smile and kiss her on the cheek, then go in search of black cuff links. “So, what happens today? Do you go with Morgan to make the statement, or how does that work?” She pulls out a pair of black and gold chevron earring and a black and gold fan necklace. I swear she has accessories for every outfit that she owns. Then again, so do I.
“No, I won’t be involved at all. My father and Morgan will meet at my office where Welch will give Dad the evidence that we have gathered. Then, he’ll go with Morgan to the Hemsteads to talk to Shane and his parents. I’ve left it up to Morgan to decide if he’ll confess to the attack. He says that he was incognito when he attacked the boy so Shane probably wouldn’t be able to identify him anyway. I don’t know how they plan to handle that. If all goes well, Shane will make a report as well, but I wouldn’t count on it.” I snap my cufflinks into place.
“So, they’ll get a search warrant on her house? How long does that usually take?”
“I don’t know. Dad says it could be anywhere from almost immediately to God only knows. With the welfare of a child at stake, I would think they would move pretty quickly.” I straighten my tie as Butterfly dons a black and gold bracelet. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re ready to kick some ass,” she responds, placing a kiss on my lips. “What happened last night, baby, when you collapsed? You scared me.” I really don’t want to talk about that right now. I know what happened, I think, but I need my mind to be clear today. She must have read my body language and throws her hands up. “I’m sorry, I won’t ask again. Just… go see Flynn, okay?” she beseeches me, and I nod.
“I’ll call him today,” I promise. “Happy now?”
“Don’t get sarcastic with me, Christian,” she chides gently. “One minute, you’re telling me about your day and the next you’re a crumpled mess on the floor pulling at your hair. I love you and you scared me, damn it!”
Okay, she’s getting a little upset now. I take her in my arms again and kiss her on the cheek.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll go talk to Flynn, okay?” I say contritely. She examines me for a moment and then nods. I kiss her once more before we leave the room for breakfast.
At approximately 9:00am, my father and Morgan walk into my office. I don’t know if Morgan looks better or worse than he did last night. I gesture for them to take a seat and summon Welch to bring the evidence that he gathered to my office. I sit on my desk in front of Morgan.
“Are you still up for this, son?” I ask him. He looks like he hasn’t slept all night.
“I guess so,” he says. He sounds defeated.
“I want you to talk to someone about what you’ve been feeling. I think it’ll help you a lot.” He looks up at me.
“You mean, like a shrink?” Oh, he doesn’t like that idea.
“Yes, I mean a shrink,” I confirm.
“I don’t need a shrink, Man. I’m not crazy!” he spits.
“Neither am I, but I’ve been talking to one for years.”
“Yeah, and look how that worked out for you. You told me last night that you just got to the point where you could have a normal life.”
“That wasn’t because the doctor didn’t help me, Morgan. That was because I wouldn’t listen. He had been telling me all along that this was unhealthy and that she had victimized me. I wouldn’t listen, and it cost me dearly. I don’t want to see that happen to you,” I implore him. He sits back in his chair and folds his arms.
“I’ll think about it,” he answers defiantly. Baby steps… let’s get this police report done first.
“That’s all I ask,” I respond just as Welch enters the room.
“Here’s the information that you requested, sir.” Welch hands me the envelope with the evidence that he was able to collect on the Pedophile with Shane. I take it out of the envelope and look it over myself. It’s no mistake that I hand the information to Dad with the picture of a collared Shane in his underwear on top of the stack. Morgan catches a glimpse of the photograph and immediately becomes enraged again.
“How long did you say she’s been doing this?” Morgan asks.
“At least 17 years,” I respond. Dad throws a disapproving look at me. He knows exactly what I did, but I had to do it. I couldn’t risk him getting halfway to the police station and losing his resolve.
“Well, we should be able to secure a search warrant with Morgan’s testimony, this evidence and the report from the hospital,” my father assures me. “Christian, a word?”
Oh, here we go, a lecture from Daddy. We step into the secret room off from my office for privacy.
“I know what you’re doing, Christian, and it’s horrible. We’re manipulating this kid for our own purposes and it’s no better than what Elena did to him!”
“I have to disagree with you, Dad,” I protest. “Yes, he is being manipulated to tell the truth and get this out in the open, but this is nothing like what that sick bitch did to him. For one thing, he has a choice—he can walk away and decide not to say anything against her. I doubt that she made it clear that he had a choice when she victimized him… which leads me to my second point. Unlike when he was in the clutches of that sick, twisted bitch, he’s not a victim. He’s holding all the cards now. Finally, he’s an adult. He’s responsible for his own actions and able to make his own decisions. He’s not an underage teenage boy being molded to be the perfect submissive. Having said that, in the future, I would sincerely appreciate it if you would never ever compare me to that vindictive whore again in your life. Can we please agree on that?”
I had no idea I was scolding my father until my speech is complete. The look on his face is a mixture of several emotions all tied up in one moment, the most prevalent of which I think is shock.
“I’m sorry, son,” he says when he comes back to himself. “I shouldn’t have made that comparison, but this is just an awful thing to do to a young man who’s already hurting.” I can concur with that.
“Dad, this small amount of discomfort for Morgan is a lot better than continuing to throw Shane to that dog. This could help with his healing. As a matter of fact, I’m sure that it will. It’s a necessary evil. Our only other option is to let her get her hands on another kid. You choose.” He knows that I’m right.
“Ugh!” he grunts. “I just hate that these children have to go through this!”
“I know, Dad. Me too.”
Morgan and my father leave my office and I can’t help my trepidation about the meeting they’re about to have with the Hemsteads. How will Morgan handle telling them that he was molested by the Pedophile? Will he admit to being the one that assaulted Shane? Will Shane admit to what has happened between the Pedophile and him once all the evidence has been presented? I hope beyond all hope that everything falls into place.
I spend the next couple of hours combing through reports that I’ve gathered of expenditures and protocols of each department for what has been affectionately named the “Heads Will Roll” Department Head Meeting this afternoon when I get a call from the front security desk. Why the hell are they calling me?
“Sir, I’m at the first-floor security desk. I need permission to forcibly remove this woman!”
It’s Jason and he’s clearly at the edge of his sanity and wants to put his foot in the ass of some female. I can hear a woman shrieking like a damn banshee in the background, now calling Jason every disparaging name that she can muster and demanding that he hand her the phone.
“Woman, if you come near me, I will gladly break your neck!”
Oh, Jason is pissed. Who the hell is this? Some ex-sub who saw the press conference from yesterday? That Meyers woman that I fired trying her hand at blackmail again?
“Who is it, Jason?” I ask.
“That blonde bitch… I mean, Lincoln, sir.”
Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me! Does this woman have a death wish? I’m doing everything possible to ensure her demise and she insists on walking right into the lion’s den.
“Bring her up.” I instruct him. He’s quiet for a moment.
“Are you sure, sir?”
“I sure am. Bring her ass up here.” She’s still ranting and raving in the background.
“Shut up before I slap you!” Jason yells, and all is silent. Jason has shed all of his professionalism… I think she had better shut up. “Listen to me carefully, lady, and I’m using that term loosely. I don’t care who you think you are; I don’t respect you; I don’t even fucking like you. As instructed, I’m going to take you to see Mr. Grey. However, if you make one sound besides breathing before we get to his office door, I’m going to grab you by that mass of blonde hair and drag you out of here by your black roots. Is that clear?” I don’t hear a response on the other end, so I can only assume that she must be nodding.” On my way, Boss.”
“See you when you get here.”
I stand and straighten my suit. Since this must be the first battle of the day, so be it—or I should say the second. I crack my neck like I’m about to get into the ring because as far as I’m concerned, I am.
A few moments later, I hear the “ding” of the elevator and a very angry pair of what I suspect are Jimmy Choos clicking across my reception area. She bursts through the door in a black satin pants suit, the jacket buttoned just below the breast boasting the sides of her $10,000 boob job—no shirt, no bra. Personally, I think she paid too much. She stops short just inside the door. It’s apparent that her intention was to seduce me, but I know women, and she’s extremely aroused right now. Yes, I know it, I look good—better today than usual—but stop drooling because there’s nothing here for you. Jason nearly knocks her down as he brushes past her and comes into the office. The blow jolts her out of her longing gaze as she says, “You can tell your guard dog to leave now!”
“Oh, no, he stays. What do you want?” I ask, perturbed.
“What are you trying to do to me!?” she barks. Well, I’m trying to put your slimy ass in jail, but what are you talking about?
“Care to elaborate?” I say, putting one hand in my pocket and standing like a GQ model.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” she responds, trying to maintain her anger but losing a bit to her arousal. “Sound Community! You pulled your backing and they called in the loan!”
“I told you that if you kept doing what you were doing, I was going to pull my backing. You were warned and you didn’t listen, now deal with it.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Christian? I’ve already sold one of my buildings for much less than it was worth and now I’m paying fucking rent to be there. What do you expect me to do?”
“Not my problem. If that’s why you came here, you can leave.” I walk back around to my chair and sit down. Genuine sadness fills her eyes… and I don’t feel a thing for her.
“We used to be so good together. We were so close. What happened to us? Why are you pushing me away so badly?”
Is she fucking serious? She can’t be serious. I glare at her.
“You should know when to quit, Lincoln. Your problem is that you don’t. You have no idea when to throw in the towel and say, ‘I lose.’ You just keep going and going until you’ve lost everything of any importance to you and then you stand there blaming other people for your fuck ups. You didn’t think I would find that little bitch that you planted in my PR department?”
Apparently, the little bitch hasn’t contacted her yet because a look of utter horror comes across her face.
“Yes, Elena,” I spit her name with utter disdain, “she has been discovered and terminated, and guess who foiled you again? Anastasia! She’s the reason that we discovered that there was a mole and she’s the one who discovered that the mole was in PR.”
Her expression has gone from horror to hatred.
“She’s ruined everything for us. Everything! We were fine until she came along!”
“No! We weren’t fine! You were fine! You had everything you wanted until my brother told me that you tried to recruit him. Then your little world started falling apart. This façade of lies and deceit that you built up all these years is finally crumbling at your fucking feet. Even now, you can’t say ‘I, Elena Lincoln, fucked up!’ It has to be me or Elliot or Ana or anybody but you. It’s amazing though that all these people who you say fucked up are happily going on with their lives while yours is shattering in your fucking face!”
“I will fucking sue you!” she screeches. “You bad faith bastard! We had a deal! You agreed not to pull your financial backing from me! It’s in the damn contract!”
“And you agreed not to contact me without an appointment and legal representation. Yet not only did you send me that ludicrous email before I left town, but you called me 14 times while I was on vacation and proceeded to insult my girlfriend. Then you send the paparazzi after me so that you can stalk me all the way to Anguilla. Oh, and let us not forget that I recorded your little pet telling me that not only did you plant her in my company, but also that you were planning to pimp her out to me once she gave you what you needed. So be my guest. Sue me, Mrs. Lincoln. I’ll take your fucking ass to the cleaners and leave you in the gutter where you belong!”
She looks like she is ready to throw a full-fledged temper tantrum.
“I. Will. Kill. Her!” she growls.
“Not if she sees you coming,” I say calmly. “You should know that I watched her dismantle three guns in my apartment. She keeps at least one of them with her at all times. Ever since the kidnapping, she’s never without one. If she smells you in her general vicinity, she will blow you away. So, I suggest that you rethink that plan of action.” Again, from horror and anger.
“She has guns in your apartment? What has she done to you!? You hate guns!”
“Oh, cut the fucking crap!” I snap. “Find fault wherever you want, I don’t care. I love that woman and nothing that you do is ever going to come between us. So, you might as well give up because I’m very swiftly losing my patience with you. Now get the fuck out of my office; I’ve got a company to run here.” Her pocket starts buzzing but she ignores it.
“I’m not leaving until you call Sound Community and tell them that this was a mistake. I’ll be nearly bankrupt trying to repay that loan!” she screams.
“You should have thought of that before you planted a mole in my company, harassed me, and insulted my girlfriend. That woman was kidnapped and is trying to heal from a horrible ordeal and all you can think about is how to exploit or torment her… and you’re losing! You’re losing terribly and you’re too blind or stupid to see it!” Her pocket is buzzing again. She takes out her phone and ignores an incoming call.
“You’re the blind one, Christian. She’s manipulating you, can’t you see it? Can’t you see what she’s doing to you?” And her pocket is buzzing again. Bitch, answer the damn phone.
“Well, I’d rather be manipulated by her than manipulated by you any day.”
I walk around my desk and stand in front of her. Her breath catches as I glare down at her.
“She loves me, Elena, inside and out. With all my flaws and all of my fucked-up baggage, she loves me… unconditionally. She did something that you could never ever do… she makes me whole. She’s slowly replacing all of those bad memories that you left me with; she’s showing me how a woman is supposed to treat a man, how it feels to be complete. There’s nothing in the world that you can do or say to make me ever turn my back on that. I would die first, and if that means that I’m being manipulated then I’ll gladly be manipulated, but you’ll never get your claws into me again.”
She’s panting because I’m in her face. This dumb bitch probably hasn’t heard a word I’ve said.
“How can you love her and not me? I made you!” she’s still screaming, and her phone is still buzzing.
“You didn’t make me, you sick bitch, you broke me! You made it so that I couldn’t even function in a regular world, around normal people—even around my fucking family! You made me, alright. You made me into an emotionally stunted shell of a man. I was already struggling as a boy and you just made it worse!”
“I couldn’t enjoy the fullness and the pleasure associated with the lifestyle because you had me in back alleys all the time, doing crazy, demeaning shit to me and calling it ‘normal’—but, I’m enjoying it now Elena. I’m enjoying it to the fullest—not in the sick way that you introduced me, though. Anastasia and I are exploring new avenues, options that you never bothered to show me because you knew that it meant I would have to connect with someone.”
“You were never capable of showing me those options because it would have meant that you had to put someone else before you, before your own selfish desires.”
“Goddammit, answer your fucking phone!” I snap. She shakes herself out of the stupor that had taken hold of her and looks at her phone.
“For Christ’s sake, Annette, what is it!?” Her eyes grow wide and all the color drains from her face as Annette speaks on the other line. “What!?” she gasps, turning toward the window. I wonder if Sound Community is initiating immediate foreclosure on one of her salons?
“On what grounds!? Who could have possibly…?”
She suddenly freezes and whips around to look at me.
“Don’t let them near the library,” she says frantically into the phone. “Just try to keep them away from the library! I’m on my way!” She glares at me as she ends the call. “Did you do this to me?”
“Whatever it is, you most likely did it to yourself, but what the fuck is ‘anybody-but-Elena’s’ fault now?” I ask.
“The… police are searching my house… and all of my salons!” My eyes widen.
“What the fuck…!?” My surprise is genuine only because I didn’t believe they could get a search warrant that soon. Go, Morgan! “Why? Why?” I exclaim, giving my best performance of shock.
“I don’t know. Annette said they have a warrant and that they’re looking for evidence of child pornography.” Child… pornography? Where did that come from?
“What!?” I roar. I guess if she’s taking pictures of underage children in submissive positions that would count as child pornography. “What the fuck are you into, Lincoln?”
“Certainly not child pornography!” she shrieks.
“But you were fucking children, so you might as well have been!” I yell. Now for the icing on this delicious cake.
“Wait… tell me that you aren’t still fucking children.”
I already know the answer of course, but I have to pretend that I don’t. Tears spring from her eyes and she grabs her hair.
“Damn it, Elena, tell me that you aren’t still fucking children!” She begins to weep. I pick something up from my desk and launch it across the room for effect.
“Fucking hell!” I scream. “You’re still fucking children and now they’re searching your damn house? I’ve been in business with you for years, you sick whore!” I grab her arms like I did the day she showed up unannounced at my apartment. “Is there anything that can implicate me? Is there?” I shake her with each word. “Answer me, you evil, demented bitch or I’ll break you in two!”
“No!” she shrieks through her tears. “Nothing!” I can see Jason speaking into his wrist. Yeah, I guess it’s time to wrap up this little performance.
“You had better not be lying to me or I swear to God I’ll make you regret the day you ever met me!” I hiss.
“No, I swear, I swear, there’s nothing that can implicate you!” she cries.
“Good,” I growl. “Now I want you to leave this place and never come back for any reason whatsoever. I never want to see you again… ever!” I release her arms and fling her away from me just in time for more of my security to burst through my office doors. She falls theatrically on the floor just as they enter. “Pick her up and get her the fuck away from my building, and if you ever see her come near GEH property again, shoot her on sight,” I say calmly.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Grey,” one of them responds and they both reach down and snatch her off the floor.
“Christian, wait!” she shrieks, her voice full of desperation. “Please! Please don’t leave me to face this alone!” she cries.
“I don’t want anything to do with you or this filthy situation! You’ve made this bed, now you lie in it! Get her the fuck out of here! If she gives you any trouble, call the police. Apparently, they’re looking for her.” The two guards drag her out of my office literally kicking and screaming.
“Christian! No! Please!” she wails as they haul her into the elevator and out of my building. I turn to Jason.
“How was that?” I ask of my performance while straightening my tie.
“Very good, Boss, quite believable,” he says. I nod as I take out my blackberry.
“She was just here, Dad. She’s on her way there. Have them check the library, now. The housekeeper has been informed to keep them out of there,” I inform him.
“What was she doing at GEH, Christian?”
“I’m pulling my backing from her, so the banks are calling in her loans. When Sound Community called in, she came rushing over here to talk some sense into me.”
“Will you ever be done with that woman?” My father is displeased.
“Well, Dad, sometimes you have to dance with the devil to beat him at his own game. By the way, I need to know the moment that she’s arrested.”
“Because there’s a clause in her contract that says all of her business assets will be seized and frozen if she’s ever arrested. Once she’s convicted, I’ll pay off the debts and liquidate everything so that she can’t use profits from the business that I helped her to start on her defense against molesting little boys.”
“Good thinking, Christian. Remind me to never get on your bad side,” he laughs.
“Daaad, that’s not even funny,” I chide. I could never do anything vengeful against my father. I don’t even like that he hinted at it in jest.
“I apologize, son. Let me contact the detective in charge and tell him to pay special attention to the library. Does she have any hidden doors or safes that you can think of?” I try to remember but nothing comes to mind.
“I can’t think of any, besides the playroom on the third floor and the dungeon in the basement, which aren’t really secret rooms, but I think it might be a good idea to see if you can secure a blueprint of the house,” I tell him.
“Okay. I’ll keep you posted.”
Once I end the call, I summon Andrea to help me organize some notes and key points that I want to make for today’s staff meeting. I’ve also requested that the security team that has worked closely with me and Jason—Davenport, Williams, Lawrence, and Manchester—all be present at this meeting as well. I’m tired of hearing excuses now. I want them all to take account for what happened on their watch, including Welch and Jason. I don’t know what’s going on here, but the events of these last several weeks are unacceptable. There are some holes in the network somewhere and it’s time to patch them up.
I have detailed reports of weak spots and flawed contingencies in each department. Today’s meeting will be an overview and there will be meetings with each department in the following days. I hate that I have to take this time to comb through my entire company to hold these experts accountable for what has gone wrong in their departments. However, these people must know that I’m serious. One mistake irritates me, but several mistakes over more than one department infuriates me.
Andrea has forwarded each of the reports to the respective departments and after another hour, we’re ready for the civil war and carnage that’s about to take place. I straighten my suit and instruct Andrea to follow me to the Palladium Conference Room. Just as I’m about to go inside, I get a call on my blackberry. It’s my father.
“Hey, Dad. I’m about to go into a meeting,” I tell him.
“Well, I thought you might want to know. Elena Lincoln has been arrested.”
Thank you to DottiG for inspiration for the love scene in this chapter.
Rien n’est mieux que nos corps profondément enlacé—Nothing feels better than our bodies deeply enlaced OR Nothing is better than our deeply entwined bodies (I was trying to get “Nothing feels better than the inside of you” but I heard that it didn’t translate well.)
Te sentir glisser en moi, me remplir à perfection. Je n’ais jamais connue une telle sensation—To feel you glide inside of me, to fill me to perfection, I have never felt anything like it
Moi non plus, mon amour, mon soleil, mon Papillon—Me either, my love, my sun, my Butterfly
Four or five more chapters, my lovelies. Don’t forget to check out the Pinterest board at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele/
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