This is the day… the day that we have been waiting for and dreading at the same time—the day that we close the “book” on Paging Dr. Steele. There’s a long author’s note at the end with information, so I won’t put a long one here. I will simply say…
THEY’RE GOING OUT WITH A BANG NOT A WHIMPER!
Be sure to read the notes at the end for info on Book II and other stuff.
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…
I think, considering the chapter number that this chapter should be named…
Chapter 69—How Appropriate
Christian parks the RS7 in VIP parking and we proceed to what actually looks like a huge warehouse from the outside. He assures me that this place is highly exclusive, which he really didn’t have to tell me since we had to drive nearly 45 minutes through affluent neighborhoods to get here. The last time I had attended something like this was in college. A few of us decided to go with one of the girls from the dorm to a “member’s only” party. Even though I told her that I would only want to observe, she thought it might pull me out of my “shell” as she called it. Granted, I wasn’t a party girl, but I certainly wasn’t shy.
Much like the club I had attended that night, this club starts with a vestibule and a VIP list—a small room with dark curtains that covers the door granting access. Two burly guys in leather chaps and locking collars stand watch and assure that no one tries to get past the tiny raven-haired beauty that was checking the guest list. She informs that we have to come up with an alias, so, I choose Stacy, and Christian chooses Tracey. I could be a Stacy, but he could never be a Tracey. I thought that was the weirdest thing ever, but hey, no weirder than going to a BDSM club, I guess.
The small vestibule opens into a larger vestibule where you would check your coat if you had one. That room opens into yet a larger room where a few people are congregating. This is what I call “the marketplace.” You could buy various toys and items here if you like, including masks, blindfolds, small vibrators, gags… the list goes on and on. Christian and I look around a bit though I’m looking mostly out of curiosity. I’m drawn to a few pictures set up as a gallery. They depict women in various poses with their breasts being contorted, twisted, and squeezed in these torture devices. It truly looks like something from the 18th century! I’m not so grossed out by it so much as I wonder how the body could be arranged in these fashions without breaking!
I don’t know how long I stand there looking at these pictures, my head and body twisting unnaturally to get a better view, before I feel his hand take mine. As I turn around to face him, he’s attaching a leather restraint to one of my wrists.
As he fastens the buckle on the restraint, I noticed that the other restraint has been fastened to his wrist, with a chain attaching the two. He gives it a yank and snatches me to his body.
“So that we don’t get separated,” he says in my ear, his voice sending waves of desire straight to my clitoris. I know that he would hate for me to get lost in this crowd… in this dress… in the raunchy mood that I’m in… and getting raunchier by the second!
Three more doorways open into the main room of the club. They’re also covered with heavy black velvet curtains that would normally block the doorway, but this time they’re open to allow access from the “marketplace” into the main room. The room is dimly lit… the most light coming from the bar which stretches the entire length of this massive room. Several girls lay bound across the bar—one girl’s head to the next girl’s feet—for at least 100 feet. They only wear thongs and talk to random patrons at the bar. If you ask, they let you do certain things to them, like one of them would let you attach nipple clamps while another would let you give her five lashes with a flogger. You can sit your drink on their bellies or even drink it off of their bodies if they permit you to do so. You can’t touch their genitals at all, and you can only perform acts that they give you permission to perform. They are like bound-place-mat-party-favor-plaything-hostesses, for lack of a better description. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Tables are sparingly placed around the room, but it is mostly love seats, sectionals, and round lobby sofas. There are two stages in this room with couples demonstrating the pleasures of rubber. Along the wall opposite the bar are various crosses and spanking benches like those in Christian’s playroom, being very well utilized by various subs and Doms or Dommes. Women are freely walking around topless, some of them being led by nipple clamps or collars with leashes. One is actually being led by a ball-gag with a chain.
It’s amazing to me that I find the nakedness more fascinating than the things that are going on around me. Some areas of the bar just seem like a businessman’s lunch—with sexy, hot, leather and spandex-clad women around, mind you—and then another area looked like an orgy. No sex in the main room from what I could tell, but they’re coming as close to it as they can!
Christian and I make our way over to the bar and order drinks. I can’t help but look down at one of the “place mat” girls lying in front of me. She looks up at me and smiles.
“You’re very pretty,” I say to her.
“Thank you,” she says, softly. “So are you.” I know that I blush at this statement. “Is this your first time?”
“At a party? Yes.”
“But you’ve practiced the lifestyle before?” she presses.
“Yes, I have,” I’m trying not to look at her body because I feel kind of dirty, but she has the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen. “What do you like about this?” I ask her.
“People are nice, they like to talk. It serves a purpose for me.”
“May I touch you?” I ask nervously. I see Christian’s head turn out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t make eye contact with him.
“Sure,” she says softly. I raise my hand and stroke gently across her abdomen, back and forth, nothing more.
“I just never touched another woman that way before. Thank you.” I smile at her.
“You’re welcome,” she responds, smiling back.
“You really are very beautiful,” I say before Christian collects our drinks and pulls me to another stool at the bar. Christian is sitting on the stool and he holds me possessively between his legs.
“I never thought I’d be jealous of a woman,” he hisses softly.
“I’m sorry, I just touched her stomach. I won’t do it again.” I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I didn’t touch her in a sexual way, but Christian clearly isn’t pleased.
“It’s okay. It was kind of hot, but no more touching, okay?” His hand is wrapped tightly around the back of my neck and my blood is pumping fiercely.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, and he gently kisses me on the chin before releasing me.
I’m still looking around and taking in the curious sights when I see something that both chills and warms my blood at the same time. In a booth with what are obviously three female submissives—two brunette and one red-head—is none other than She-Bitch herself! I can’t be mad because this is her scene—and only the elite come to this location, according to Christian. I just wish she hadn’t ruined my night… and upon careful consideration, I have decided that she hasn’t ruined my night, but I’m going to ruin hers.
“Elena is here.”
He doesn’t move his head in any direction when I say this.
“Is she now?” He pulls my hand restraint to pull me closer to his body. I gasp.
“Would you like to give her a little show?” he says playfully, lust dancing in his tone. I smile conspiratorially.
“Why Tracey, you’re such a naughty boy,” I say, my voice low and seductive and matching his playfulness.
“Only for you, Stacy,” he says licking my lips. Oh, hell, I’m getting hotter and hotter. “So, is that a yes?” he asks.
“Oh, that’s a hell yes,” I respond, ready to throw him on the bar with one of the platter-girls and fuck him senseless.
“Where is she?” he asks. I drop my head coyly to the right and look to my left to see if she is still in the same place.
“To my left, maybe 25 feet,” I reply.
“Has she seen us yet?” he asks. I slightly tip my wine glass which shatters on the counter drawing attention to us.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, mocking sincerity to the bartender who has to clean the mess.
“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” he says, kindly. “It happens all the time.”
“Are you okay?” I say to the platter-girl who was the unfortunate victim of my Cabernet.
“I’m fine, Sweetie. Don’t you worry about me one bit,” she says with a wink. I give her a big smile and return my attention to Christian.
“She has now,” I whisper into his ear.
“Mmmm,” he groans, running his shackled hand up my thigh until it raises my dress a bit and cups my bare ass cheek. “You are sneaky and devious. I’m glad you’re on my team.” I raise an eyebrow at him as I use my free hand to stroke his thigh, bringing it up between us to his cock for just a moment, then using it to—somewhat clumsily—open another button on his shirt.
“I don’t know what you mean, Tracey,” I say softly. His breath catches as I touch his skin.
“I want to kiss you, but I’ll ruin that flawless lipstick,” he breathes.
“Then kiss me here,” I respond, pointing to the opening in my dress. Without hesitating, he buries his face in my bosom, licking the exposed skin between my breasts. I drop my head back and push my fingers into his hair as he pushes my dress up a little further to get a better grip on my butt. There’s going to be some lovin’ in our future this evening! No one particularly pays attention to us since we’re probably the tamest show in the room at this moment, but I have no doubt that for a certain bleached blonde pedophile, we‘re the main event.
Christian works his hands under my dress until they are both cupping my ass. He pulls the cheeks apart and gently starts to massage my rosebud. His skilled tongue works its way under the opening in my dress and finds a bare taut nipple—all of this while other people are in the room, but I’m exposed to no one. Careful not to use his name, I breathe, “Baby!” He groans into my breast while his tongue, his hands, and his breath sends shock waves through my skin. I hold on to his hair and lock my legs to keep my knees from buckling, but my breath is betraying my arousal. He stops and looks up at me.
“Are you hot?” he asks deeply. I nod.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good. Just for a moment, I wanted you to forget about our audience.” I’m still breathing heavily.
“It worked,” I breathe. He stands and kisses me on my neck, my cheek, and the corner of my mouth.
“Would you like to look around some more?” he asks. I throw back the rest of my wine to regain my composure.
“Yes, please.” I don’t know what made me think that the wine would help.
We travel down a very long corridor leading to several small theaters—that’s the best way to describe them. They’re large rooms with a plexiglass wall right down the middle. On one side of the plexiglass is a show of some kind while the audience stands on the other side and watches in the dark—a peepshow for the most part. The show is a woman completely encased in vinyl with a breathing tube sticking out. Nothing else.
In the next room is a very attractive man accompanied by three women. An attractive redhead sits on the couch in the room. She is clearly the Domme. The gorgeous blonde man stands in the middle of the room with his profile to the voyeurs. He’s highly aroused and wearing a collar and wrist restraints. A little strawberry blonde also wearing a collar kneels in front of him, attaches his restraints to her collar, then proceeds to give him a magnificent blow job. Christian unhooks our wrist restraints and moves behind me. He gently grinds into my ass while I watch this tortured man get the skin sucked off of his dick as his Mistress commands him not to come. I reach behind me and grab Christian’s erect cock rubbing up and down. He moans in my ear and I’m getting extremely aroused.
The second woman, a petite brunette, has knelt behind the tall, tortured blonde and starts rimming him. He cries out clearly unable to take the pleasure anymore.
“Mistress… please…” he’s begging, “I’m going to come.”
“Control, Samuel,” his Mistress purrs, “don’t come yet. Absorb the pleasure.” I have unwittingly begun ferociously stroking Christian’s dick and he has to grab my hand.
“Baby, stop!” he growls in my ear and I realize that I almost made him come. At that moment, the brunette shifts between this guy’s legs, licking his balls from behind while the blonde deep throats him to the hilt, and the poor guy loses the fight. He throws his head back and cries out loudly, apparently coming quite violently while holding the blonde onto his manhood. His whole body is trembling and jerking, and he almost falls down while he’s gasping for air.
That shit was hot, and I’m breathing heavily.
“Do you want to see another one?” Christian asks. I nod and he takes my hand and leads me to another room. Did I see She-Thing in there when we left? Who cares?
In this room, there’s a woman being exquisitely bound with several lengths of rope. She’s lying face up on a table and her Dom has bound her hands and arms above her head. He makes a noose with another rope and hooks it to her left ankle, then proceeds to attach the rope to a post at the end of the table. He repeats the process with her right ankle and her legs are spread apart in a perfect split, her ass right at the edge of the table with her pussy fully exposed and ready for whatever he wants. He proceeds to disrobe, and he’s impressively hung—not as impressive as Christian, but impressive.
He slowly and deliciously pushes himself inside her then slowly pulls out and repeats the process, over and over again. She’s not making a sound and it is now that I realize that she’s gagged. She has a ball in her hand, and I can only assume that it’s her safe word. She clenches the ball tightly as he slides in and out of her. She’s unable to move, and I’m imagining the pleasure that she must absorb with her legs wide open like that. I’m remembering playtime in Anguilla with Christian. Although fending off the orgasm was torturous, the pleasure was exquisite. I have to close my eyes to compose myself and when I open them again, her legs are shaking. I know she’s coming now, and I know that magnificent release that she’s feeling. I whimper involuntarily in empathy and Christian’s whisks me out of the room and against the wall across from the door we just exited.
“You can’t take it?” he asks grasping my collar and running his tongue along my jaw.
“No,” I breathe.
“I taste your sweat. You’re hot and horny,” he hisses.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“You want to come,” he whispers.
“Yes,” I breathe again.
“One more,” he coaxes, and I nod.
I open my eyes and he has taken my hand and is guiding me to yet another theater. As he’s pulling me away, I see a flash of flaxen blonde hair step out of the room we just left. That bitch is following us! I will kill you is just not enough for her, is it? Her saving grace is that I’m so hot and bothered and floating behind my man that I can’t even worry about this bitch.
He has dragged me into another room where the show has already begun. A woman is intricately bound again, only this time, she’s suspended perfectly horizontally over a table, and a man is lying underneath her. He’s holding her face and as she swings in her suspension, and he’s fucking her mouth. Just as we enter the room, he maybe has 10 more strokes before he comes. I’m disappointed that we missed this one because it really looks erotic. I’m pleased to discover that this show is a double feature.
Another man comes into the room, his cock engorged and pink and so ready to fuck. He positions himself underneath the suspended girl as well, only he wants to fuck her pussy. He inserts his cock with a loud moan, then wiggles a bit and adjusts his body to get just the right angle and fit. Once he’s where he wants to be, he starts to stoke causing her body to swing again like it did when the first guy was fucking her mouth. She starts to whimper in pleasure and my core is on fire watching her get fucked this way. Christian stands behind me and slips his hand into the opening in my dress, torturously teasing my nipple. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
His other hand slides up and down my inner thigh and I breathe heavily, watching this fellow’s hips rise and fall with the rhythm of the woman’s swinging body. She pants in pleasure as he grasps her breasts, protruding from the rope used to bind her. Again, she’s forced to absorb the pleasure as her binds make her unable to move. Christian’s hand has wandered deliciously up to the apex of my thighs and he’s stroking me over my thong. The fact that the room is full of other people—most of them doing something similar to their male and female companions—is turning me on immensely. I’m trying to hold back my pending release, but Christian is relentless in his teasing.
“Baby…” I breathe as my head falls back on his chest and my legs start to tremble.
“Watch,” he commands, and my eyes shoot open again. I didn’t know I had closed them. When I see our exhibitionist couple again, she’s moaning in utter ecstasy and he has grabbed her rope-laden ass and is driving and grinding into her. Christian intensifies his teasing of my nipple and my core over my panties. I won’t be able to stand if he keeps doing this.
Very soon she cries out in pleasure and as he opens his mouth and his body stiffens, my orgasm tears through my clitoris and I’m gasping for air, again trying not to cry out. I nearly collapse from the release, but Christian’s arms grasp me tightly and move me a few feet through the dark room. He pushes me against the wall and kisses me feverishly and passionately, his tongue forcibly invading my lips and violating my mouth in every way possible.
So much for the lipstick.
His passion immediately reignites the fire in me and I thrust my hands into his hair, intent on climbing his body if I must to reach his luscious lips and locks. He tears his lips from mine, and I can see uncontrolled arousal in his eyes even in the darkened room.
“I want you… now!” he growls in my ear. I’m so hot right now, I’ll fuck him in the middle of the Alaskan Viaduct!
“Yes!” I breathe immediately.
“Not here.” He grabs my hand and snatches me from the theater. Once again, as he drags me away from the room, I see that flash of blonde hair emerge. Is she coming to watch us fuck, too? I don’t have long to wait to find out as Christian drags me into a room near the end of a long corridor and locks the door behind us. I can’t help but wonder if we’re in one of the theaters. Christian pushes me against the door and he’s ravaging my lips again. That fire that never went out is a roaring flame now and I can hardly wait for him to have his way with me. I only slightly notice someone trying the door handle, but I can’t be concerned with it as Christian has made his way under my dress again and now inside my panties.
“Aah. Ha… ha…” I pant as he makes contact with my clitoris, still sensitive from my recent orgasm, but hungry for release at the same time. I need to feel him inside me, I’m so hot! I try to reach his cock, but he’s concentrating on my pleasure, now sliding his finger into my core. I cry out and inadvertently hit the light switch. I find that we are in an empty private lounge with two oversized armchairs. Perfect! I’m on fire and I’m going to do what I want now.
I was nervous bringing her here, but we agreed to explore different avenues of the lifestyle to see what worked for us. The best way to explore is to go to the parties and since I erased the Pedophile from my social circle—actually, she was my social circle—I had to get on the VIP lists myself at the clubs that I may occasionally frequent. When I was notified that there would be a “companions only” party to introduce beginners tonight, I knew it was a perfect time to give Butterfly a controlled introduction to the lifestyle. “Companions only” means couples, threesomes, foursomes, you name it—you just can’t show up alone.
It’s going so much better than I could have hoped. I had to keep the monster on a leash when she touched the girl on the bar, but then remembered that it was only curiosity as my Butterfly is quite heterosexual. I’ve felt that delicate hand, though. Her touch will send anybody—man or woman—into a sexual frenzy. Public assplay and the nipple lick at the bar may have been a show for Lincoln, but it was also my way of reminding her—and myself—that she is mine!
The shows, however, are a completely different story. These are tame compared to some of the things I’ve seen, but I knew they would be. Butterfly can barely control herself. She’s such a little sex kitten, I would have thought that in perfecting her skills to satisfy a man who didn’t want her, she may have seen some things like this. Then again, she’s probably only seen things in the very clinical sense, not in the very erotic like what we are seeing now. She is on fire! Her skin is sweaty and super sensitive, and her body is humming against me.
I see the Pedophile following us from room to room which is one of the reasons why I made Butterfly come at the last show. Take that, Lincoln. The only thing is that my plan backfired. Watching her come apart in that room the way that she did, feeling her temperature rise as she reached climax against my hand in the presence of all of those people has turned me on so much that I would fuck her on stage right now if she would let me. Greystone is throwing a damn temper tantrum to get free! I’m dragging her to one of the private lounges as fast as I can. I pleased to find the last one is unoccupied although it wouldn’t have mattered—if it had been occupied, I would have taken her in the nearest restroom!
I can barely get the door closed and locked before I’m ravishing her body again. She’s wet and so hungry, her arms flailing and dousing the room with light. The next thing I know she forcibly pushes me off of her.
She’s grabbing at my belt and clothes and I’m disrobed from the waist down in about five seconds. My pants and boxers are pooled at my ankles and Greystone is feverishly waving at her. Whoa! Okay. I don’t have time to register anything as she pushes me down into a nearby armchair, drops into my lap and attacks my cock with her lips and tongue.
“Aahh! Ana, fuck!” I cry out as she drops down ferociously on my manhood, sucking my shaft and torturing my head with her tongue. I grab her hair and start to drive into her mouth, my head back on the chair. My balls are burning, and her mouth is incredible. Oh hell, I’m not going to last, but I can’t stop her—she is so unbelievably good at this. I nearly cry when she releases my dick from her mouth.
I want to wail as I raise my head and see her feverishly unzipping her dress. I take my jacket off and unbutton my shirt as she removes her dress and stands in front of me in nothing but a thong and those sexy ass shoes.
I lick my lips salaciously as she walks over to me and turns around. With her back to my front, she slides the string of her thong aside and positions herself over me. Greystone weeps a bit in anticipation as she takes him in one hand and slides slowly over my erection. I involuntarily release a tortured groan.
When she has taken me all in, she leans back against me, grabs onto the armrests, plants her feet on the floor outside of my legs and rides like the wind. Oh my God, the feeling is astronomical. My hips rise only slightly to meet on the downstroke, and I wrap my fingers around her hips. I’m filling her in on all sides and she moans as she looks down and watches her skilled, hot, wet pussy repeatedly swallow and stroke my throbbing member. I have a wonderful view of the same thing from behind, complimented by her gorgeous ass clinching with each withdrawal. It’s so sensuous that it’s almost more than I can take. She leans forward a bit and pushes down harder on me.
Oh, hell, I almost expire.
I moan deeply, absorbing the intense pleasure as my hands move up to clasp both of her breasts. I open my legs a bit, which causes her legs to open wider and I slightly deepen my stroke. Shit, she feels so good. She moans again and throws her head back, pushing her breasts into my hand, and rides me with abandon.
“Oh God baby yes, fuck me!” I growl as we slowly begin to pick up the pace. She’s riding me all the way down to my balls and I know that I am hitting every spot imaginable inside of her while pinching her nipples at the same time.
“Christian! Aah, Christian!” She’s so close, and her body’s on fire. I move one of my hands from her breast and stick it into her panties, massaging that pleasure center. She’s trembling and gyrating like I’ve never seen from her before. She squeals like a pig and right in the middle of her release, I grab her around the waist and anchor her against me. My other hand latches around her neck and that beautiful collar and I’m thrusting into her so hard and deep that her feet are no longer touching the floor.
“Mine! Mine! Mine!” I chant with each thrust, claiming her while I’m making her come. She can’t even respond because she’s still riding it out. Her mouth hangs open as she wheezes and squeals with each thrust. The pressure and friction are insane, and I can not only feel an intense and insane release creeping up on me, but I’ve apparently caused a new wave of pleasure and vibration inside of her with each thrust.
“Christian… my God!” she chokes as I relentlessly pound her pussy and sends her into another ripple of smaller aftershock orgasms.
“That’s right, baby,” I hiss. “Nobody can make you feel like I can. Nobody can make you come like this but me!”
“Nobody, b… baby… no… body!” she pants. “Ah! Ah, Christian! Ah, baby! Come for me, baby. I need to feel you squirt inside me!” she says as she reaches up and grabs a handful of my hair.
She knows I love that shit!
Fuck, she is out of control. I know that it’s a combination of location and the taboo of it all, the atmosphere, the visuals of the erotic activities we witnessed, the fact that I made her come standing in the middle of a room full of people, the spontaneity of our current coupling, and my pounding deliciously into her while grasping her collar and pinning her to my body. It doesn’t hurt that in the back of my mind, I occasionally remember that Lincoln is probably listening on the other side of the door, tormented.
“Ah, yes! Ah, fuck!” I thrust into her hard on each word, stilling on the last word and burying myself in her hot, pulsating core as I come powerfully inside of her. My hips are suspended, holding us both off the chair so that all of her weight is concentrated on her pelvis pushing solidly into me and intensifying this incredible orgasm as my juices spill heavily inside of her. Greystone is reaching into her trying to find his home and she’s welcoming him warmly with the crazy pressure of her body weight and the squeezing and pulling of her vaginal muscles.
“Uuuuuuuggggghhhhhh!” I cry shamelessly as my dick, balls, pelvis, and everything south of my waist obeys her command to squirt inside of her. When I have finally trembled out the last of my orgasm, we drop back into the seat, hopelessly breathless. I move my hand from her neck to the side of her face and back into her hair as I pepper breathless kisses on her ear, her neck, and her cheek. This is the most incredible woman in the world… and she belongs to me.
“That was incredible, baby,” I say as I continue to kiss her neck and shoulders.
“Yes,” she breathes, “yes, it was.”
“What turned you on the most?” I ask, still planting open-mouthed kisses on her body.
“All of it,” she breathes. “I love tasting you and giving you pleasure, so watching the girls pleasure that guy was extremely hot. Then to know that the second and third women couldn’t move—that they could only absorb the pleasure—reminded me of when you hold me down and make me come.” I’m playing with her clitoris while she’s explaining to me what turned her on. She slowly thrusts into my hand.
“What else?” I whisper seductively.
“When you made me come in the room with all of those people, and I didn’t want them to know,” she’s starting to pant now. “When you hold my collar and fuck me… I’m so hot, I can come all night.” I slowly stop my massage and she whimpers in protest.
“Sssh,” I soothe in her ear. “I’m going to hold you to that, but we have a lot more to see, and I want you receptive. Okay?” She takes in deep breaths and composes herself.
“Okay.” I take some tissue from the box on the table near our chair and clean her up while she’s still sitting on my lap. I help her stand and she puts her dress back on while I clean and redress myself. She cleans her lipstick as much as she can and since it’s so damn red, she still has enough stain on her lips to look sexy. I drag her playfully to the door before I realize that she has another tissue in her hand.
“Baby, wait,” she purrs with mirth. I open the door and lean against the door frame, smiling with her in my arms. She gently cleans the lipstick from my lips with the tissue. When I’m all cleaned up, I place a gentle kiss behind her ear.
“I love you. You are so hot,” I whisper in her ear and then look her in the eye.
“You’re pretty magnificent yourself, Mr. Grey,” she says as she reaches down to rub my semi-hard erection. Yes, baby, he’s getting ready for more later, I think to myself as I smile devilishly at her. Just over Butterfly’s shoulder, I see her. I knew that she would be there—she’s been following us all night. I glare at her a bit as I know that she stood out here and listened to us having sex… stupid bitch. Butterfly looks over her shoulder to see the Pedophile standing inside another doorway with her arms folded smirking at us.
I knew she wasn’t far away. She’s wearing a wet look black halter bra and skirt. The skirt is split up the side and laced only from the waist and a little down the hip. She’s wearing black patent-leather stilettos with a ribbon that is crisscrossed over her foot and ties up around her ankle. All I can think about is how hot Butterfly would look in that outfit. Butterfly’s hand tightens on my arms and I pull her closer to me. Don’t worry, baby, she’s got nothing on you.
“I didn’t think the party scene was your thing, Christian. It appears that you have significantly lowered your standards,” the Pedophile purrs. I look down at Butterfly and I groan a sensuous groan. My hands move from her delicate waist to her luscious ass and I cup it so strong and fast that not only does Butterfly gasp, but I also hear Lincoln gasp as well.
“I don’t think so,” I say, still gazing at my Butterfly. “However,” I raise my eyes to look at Lincoln, “considering the fact that you’re here, you might be right—about this party, that is.” I take Butterfly’s hand and lead her past the Pedophile and off we go to another adventure while she stands there with her mouth hanging open.
We go to many more theaters and see many more shows. I can tell that Butterfly doesn’t care for any of the whipping or caning, none of the needle play or blood play, and we both skip right past the enema play. She does, however, convince me to stick around for the invasive prostate milking. She says that she wants me to see that it could be pleasurable and doesn’t have to involve the harsh anal probing that was performed on me by that bitch. I have to admit that it doesn’t look as vicious or brutal as what Lincoln did to me at all and the guy really looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely. If what he is feeling is anything like what Butterfly did to me, I can guarantee that he is! Having watched someone do it to someone else and knowing what the end result feels like, I agree that I might be open to it with time, but right now I’m just not ready.
“Any time you’re ready, baby,” she says softly, “and if it’s never, it’s never. I still know how to make you come.” She licks my earlobe.
“That you do, baby,” I groan. “That you do.”
After getting all hot and bothered and hard from a few more shows, we find ourselves in a large lounge with black furniture and a big square bar right in the center. I see a group of people at the end of the bar and I think I know what it is. There are men with women, men with men, women with women, threesomes—and they’re all just sitting around talking. You can tell who’s with whom because a lot of them are sitting on another’s lap or kneeling at another’s feet. I can tell that Butterfly feels a little uncomfortable effectively crashing this party, but I stroll right in knowing that she’ll loosen up soon if this is what I think it is.
“Do you all mind if we join you?” I ask holding Butterfly’s hand. The crowd is quite welcoming as I lead her to an empty space on the black sofa and sit her on my lap. The group participants begin introducing themselves and of course they have names like Pixie and Candi and Francois. We even have a Michelangelo and a Wolfgang! Stacy and I announce that we haven’t been to a play party for quite some time and, in fact, this is her first time. Pixie informs her that this group just kind of gravitated together to form an impromptu “munch.” That’s what I thought it was.
The next thing I know, we’re engrossed in a conversation about preferences and positions and toys and tricks. Butterfly sits fascinated by the variations of everything that you can do within the lifestyle. I’m sure that she knew the lifestyle was versatile, but now she’s getting an idea of just how à la carte it really is. I’m very happy that we stumbled on this little munch as we hear so many things that we can use to tweak our relationship and make it more exciting and fulfilling. The more we talk, the more Greystone presses into Butterfly’s ass. I can’t help it—talking about this shit turns me on! I know that Butterfly can feel my erection poking into her, but she doesn’t give it away.
I have to touch her. I start to rub her leg as she asks CindiLou about the collaring ceremony. She and I didn’t do any formal collaring. We wear them as a clear sign to anyone in the community that we’re taken—something like a wedding ring—and neither of us wants another. As my hand travels up her alabaster thigh, I see Lincoln stroll in with her three companions for the evening.
They all take a seat—or some floor—right in mine and Butterfly’s line of sight. Is she serious? Is this supposed to bother us? Bitch, you could offer yourself naked on a platter and I would still grimace and keep walking if not run. I don’t know if Butterfly has noticed her sitting there yet, but just as the waitress brings over more snacks and drink refills, my hand starts to travel ominously up her leg. I can feel the heat from her core the closer I get to it and she has been so deliciously free and horny tonight.
“Stop it, baby,” she says softly.
“What?” I ask coyly, and my hand stops its ascent. I still tease the skin on her inner thigh and as CindiLou continues to tell her about the significance of an actual ceremony, I start to wander due North again. She’s getting hotter and hotter by the second while she vainly attempts to absorb this arousal. She leans down to again.
“Stop it,” she says a little more sternly.
“Or what?” I purr, clenching the meat on her thigh to keep the heat going. As CindiLou finally tells us about her own collaring ceremony and how she’s a 24/7 sub for her Master, my hand has made its way all the way up Butterfly’s dress and is now tickling her mound. Ah, the Promised Land! I feel the reaction when she jerks in my lap and does something that completely blows my fucking mind. She grabs a handful of my hair and snatches my head back so hard that I’m looking straight up at the ceiling. She simultaneously gets right in my face and snarls, “Stop it!”
Fuck! My pants are wet… I just know they are…
I hiss loudly at the shock and the pain, both of my hands clenching her body—one on her ass and one on her hip. My cock immediately starts throbbing to the point of pain underneath her. Her pupils dilate as she glares at me and the blue almost disappears. She’s really enjoying this.
“Behave yourself,” she hisses. I glare at her. I could just eat her up right now.
“I’m going to fuck you until you scream,” I promise between my teeth.
“Yes, please,” she hisses, back then she licks my lips and kisses me gently. “Now behave.”
I raise one eyebrow at her. “Okay.” She releases my hair and massages my scalp as I raise my head upright.
“You two are so hot. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Wolfgang asks Butterfly and she shrugs.
“He brings it out in me,” she responds.
“Well, you’re a natural, let me tell you,” Wolfgang says fanning himself.
“Okay, so both of you are wearing collars, and each of you are wearing a wrist restraint. Who’s the top and who’s the bottom?” Candi asks.
“We switch,” I answer. “Sometimes she’s the sub, and other times, she’s the Domme.” One loud cackle comes from Lincoln’s direction and everyone in the group turns to look at her. She immediately starts to play with the leash of one of her little pets, pretending to show no interest in our conversation.
“Friend of yours?” CindiLou asks.
“No, just a stalker we can’t seem to shake,” I say with disdain.
“Really? What’s her story?” I look at Butterfly, her eyes questioning if she should say anything.
“Baby, you can say anything that you want about her. That’s public record,” I reply. She smiles widely and turns to the group and announces loudly enough for Lincoln to hear,
“She’s an accused pedophile. She is currently out on bail awaiting trial for turning underage boys into subs. It’s been all over the news and I’m surprised they let her in here as I’m sure that an establishment that promotes the healthy enjoyment of the lifestyle would not want to have the stigma of a pedophile attached to it.”
She finishes her speech and turns and looks Lincoln straight in the face. The Pedophile’s eyes narrow as she glares at Butterfly, clearly appalled that my baby had the balls to let the cat out of the bag in a public place.
“When you say underage,” Pixie begins, “you mean like 16 and 17, past the age of consent, right?”
“No,” I chime in, “her most recent victim was 14.” Oh, that pisses Lincoln off. She stands up and marches toward the group, clearly intent on making an announcement most likely much like she did at Bellevue, and I see it in her eyes.
“If you open your mouth,” I hiss at her as she reaches the group, “I’ll set this tiger loose on you and may God help you.”
“Are you done with your beer?” Butterfly asks Michelangelo taking her cue and I’m having flashbacks of the bar fight in Anguilla. Butterfly could easily take her without a weapon, but after threatening to kill the bitch, I’m sure that Butterfly wants to do as much damage as possible. Michelangelo bottoms out his bottle and promptly hands it to Butterfly. She stands up from my lap, cracks her neck, rolls her shoulders, plants her feet and gets ready for Lincoln to speak.
Run, Pedophile, run!
Lincoln must have gotten flashbacks of yesterday when Butterfly had that knife at her throat, because all of a sudden, she looks very small. She silently backs away from us and signals for her playthings to follow her as she leaves the lounge. Butterfly takes her seat back in my lap and puts the beer bottle back on the table.
“Michel, that wasn’t very nice of you,” Wolfgang scolds.
“Hey, I love a good cat fight,” Michelangelo admits. “Stacy, queen of the jungle. Rawr!” I can’t help but laugh at this predicament.
“Tell me that I didn’t almost just kick that woman’s ass in a BDSM club,” she says, dropping her head.
“I’m sorry, Darling, but you almost just kicked that woman’s ass in a BDSM club,” Pixie says.
“Oh, she just brings out the worst in me,” Butterfly sighs, dismayed. I pull her close to me. I hate it that Lincoln burst our sensual little bubble.
“Recruiting 14-year-old boys, I think she would bring out the worst in anybody!” CindiLou exclaims. I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Well, cats and kittens, I think Tracey and I need to call it a night,” Butterfly says looking sympathetically into my eyes. I smile gratefully at her. She knows me so well—I don’t know how I survived so long without her.
“Oh, must you? The night is young,” Wolfgang protests.
“It’s not that young, Daddy,” Michelangelo corrects him showing his watch.
“Ooo, we have chatted quite a while, haven’t we?” Wolfgang rises with us. “So, listen, Honey. If you need any more pointers, you give one of us a call. We answer to our aliases and we really don’t have a problem with anybody knowing about our lifestyle.” He collects cards from everyone in the group and gives them to Butterfly. They only have their aliases and phone numbers on them. “We may be open, but we are well acquainted with the concept of discretion and privacy.” He winks at me.
“Well, thank you! We will certainly be in touch. I had a wonderful time for my first experience… except for the interruption from She-Thing,” Butterfly says.
“She-Thing?” Candi repeats and the group erupts in laughter. “That is so appropriate!” Candi adds. Butterfly giggles a little then takes my hand and leads me out of the lounge, thanking our hosts once again for a wonderful time.
Okay, it’s time to get my baby out of here. Talking about She-Thing’s indecent activities with children is clearly making him uncomfortable. We make it to the ground floor and almost make it to the door and there she stands.
“Boy, you really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” I say and Christian laughs uncharacteristically.
“This is the second-hand piece of ass that I was telling you about earlier, you know, when I mentioned slumming,” she sneers, talking to her subs. One of the brunettes scoff at me.
“Permission to speak, Mistress,” she purrs at Elena who nods proudly at her. “She has nothing on you, Mistress.” She purrs, then looks at Christian. “You’ll have him back in no time. Maybe even I will.” She licks her lips.
“Not in this life, you won’t,” he says curtly. She pales. “Didn’t your Mistress teach you to be respectful to Doms?” he spit.
“I was respectful to you, Sir,” she says, dropping her head and looking at Christian through her eyelashes. Elena is quite pleased with Mini-Thing’s performance until Christian tells her, “But you weren’t respectful to my Domme.” Mini-Thing’s eyes shoot up and she looks at Christian.
“You’re a sub?” she says with disdain. Christian seems to grow as he peers down on this unfortunate little woman. She actually appears to shrink as she drops her head again immediately and the other ladies… and She-Thing… take a few steps back.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” he says in that deep masterful voice that will make you drop your panties on the 50-yard-line at CenturyLink Field in the middle of a Seahawks game, “I’m a switch, and I only ever sub for her. So, when you address me—if I ever allow you to address me, you address me as ‘Sir.'” He falls deadly silent and gazes down at her.
“Yes, Sir,” she whimpers, her voice shaking just as much as she is.
“I didn’t say you could speak to me,” he hisses, and she shrinks again.
“It’s very bad taste to dominate another’s sub, Sir, or has present company made you forget everything I’ve taught you?” She-Thing snaps. Christian looks over at her.
“You will excuse my stray from etiquette and decorum, Pedophile, but when I see an untrained dog in my presence, my first instinct is to make it heel,” he growls. I did the same cackle that she did earlier in the lounge. “You really should train your pets better. It’s very unbecoming, not to mention a bad reflection on you as a mistress.” He hisses the last word, his voice dripping with disdain as he reattaches our wrist cuffs and gently guides me away from Gruesome Foursome.
“Ta, Ladies… and Elena,” I say, waving delicately as we leave.
We are roaring with laughter by the time we get back to the RS7.
“Did you see the look on her face!?” Christian bellows as we pull away from the club toward the 406. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on her face before in my life.”
“I think she aged 15 years tonight. It was really sad,” I say through my cackling laughter.
“She just doesn’t get it,” he says, his voice filled with mirth.
“Well, Christian, some people just never learn,” I say, still laughing lightly.
“I guess not,” he says, glancing over at me and smiling sweetly. He kisses my hand, and I notice that we missed our turn.
“Christian, we are going to miss the bridge, Baby,” I warn.
“I know,” he says, throwing the occasional smile at me. “I want to show you something.”
We drive for a few more minutes until we come to a hidden road. We travel down a dark path that looks like it really wasn’t made for motor vehicles, but the RS7 fits just fine. Next we are going down a tree-lined road and around what looks like a cul-de-sac and he parks the car. He gets out and comes to my side to let me out. Before I can get out, he kneels to remove my shoes. At my bemused expression, he says, “You won’t be needing these.” Once I step out of the car, we’re immediately walking across the grass. In front of me, I can see that we’re near the waterfront and I bask in the beautiful reflection of the moonlight. Christian sits in the grass and beckons me to sit next to him. The grass feels wonderful under my feet. He puts his suit coat around my shoulders as we gaze out over the water.
“I used to come here a lot as a kid,” he begins. “I said I would buy the property one day when I was rich and have a house built on it, but I didn’t know it was owned by the city then. Even Christian Grey can’t buy a public park.” He laughs as he bends his legs and rests his arms on his knees. “I got into so much trouble. I couldn’t forge relationships or talk to people. I had no idea what was going on with me or how to fix it. The doctors knew all the how’s and the what’s, but nobody could fix me. Nobody had the magic potion. I just wanted to be normal. I wanted to be like Elliot.”
This is the first time he’s said this to me.
“I wanted to go to parties and go out on dates and have friends, but the thought of someone else touching me terrified me. I couldn’t get past it no matter what I did and believe me, I tried everything.”
He sighs and looks nostalgically out over the water.
“So, I came here. I came here because it was nothing… no people, no judgment, no sound, no nothing. Listen…”
He’s right. Even with all the trees and the grass, you can’t even hear crickets chirping.
“It was peace. I didn’t have to see Grace’s heart breaking or hear Carrick’s constant chastising. I could avoid it for just a little while by coming here. Then I met Elena.”
He looks down when he speaks about her.
“She had me so brainwashed, Butterfly,” he says, shaking his head. “She took my loneliness and my need for human contact and affection and she used it against me in the worst way possible.”
His eyes are glassy, and I put my hand on his knee. He covers mine with his.
“I really thought she cared about me all those years ago. I really thought she wanted to help me. I mean in a really twisted way, she did help me. She stopped my drinking, made me concentrate in school. But even then…” He raises his head again and a single tear falls. “Even then I knew something wasn’t quite right. Something just didn’t click. I mean, if what we were was doing, why couldn’t we tell anybody? But I liked it… well, some of it, anyway… and I didn’t want to stop. Carrick was no longer disappointed in me all the time. Grace wasn’t heartbroken and lost over my condition. I wasn’t the negative center of attention anymore. Broken Christian, the black sheep.” He wipes his tear away. “I kept coming here until I left for Harvard. I kept hoping that the answer to that unknown niggling question would come to me, but it always seemed to evade me.”
It sounds like his heart is breaking right before me. I scoot closer to him and put my hand in his hair. He leans into it and takes a deep breath.
“I went off to Harvard mostly because that’s what Carrick wanted. I needed to do something to make my family proud… but even that failed.”
“But you didn’t fail, Christian,” I try to encourage.
“Well, no, but that was after the fact. I dropped out of Harvard and Carrick nearly cut me off. He wouldn’t even listen to me… my hopes and dreams, my plans for the future. It was Harvard or nothing. Nobody even considered the fact that I might have some idea of what I was doing. Hell, I was smart enough to get accepted to Harvard. That should have meant something,” he says, like he’s arguing his case to me, “but it didn’t. I don’t even know if Elena had any real faith in me. She took a chance lending me Linc’s money to start my business so I can only assume that she had faith that she would one day get it back… but in light of everything that has happened and everything that has come to light, I’ll never know for sure.”
He drops his head again, and all I can see is the dejected teenager that needed someone to believe in him, someone to touch him in the right way when he couldn’t stand to be touched. I don’t know how to go back in time and heal those hurts. I take his hand in mine and lean on his shoulder, trying to give him whatever comfort I can.
“The voice was always there. It was always telling me that something was wrong, and I ignored it. I convinced myself that it was the same voice that haunted me in my dreams and told me that I was nothing. The same voice that took away my hopes made me afraid of relationships of any kind. The same voice told me that love was for fools and that beating little brown-haired girls was the closest to normal that I would ever be.” His voice cracks as I hear him fighting unshed tears.
Let it out, baby, please…
He continues to fight, but at least he continues to talk.
“I succeeded with my first merger when I was 20 years old—well nearly 21. I gained my first acquisition very shortly afterwards, and out of nowhere, I was a millionaire. It was like I waved my hands and the money was there. It came so easy to me. I mean, I was already a natural at business. Coupled with the control that I acquired from mastering the art of Domination, I’m unstoppable. By the time I was in multimillions, which was only within the next year or so, I had all but forgotten this place… but something was still wrong, and that unknown unanswered question still kept nagging at me.”
I continue to stroke his arm and let him talk. He doesn’t need a therapist right now, which I couldn’t be for him anyway. He needs his girlfriend.
“Elena knew how to touch me, knew all the right things to say, knew what buttons to push and even though she got me to fall in line and I was convinced that this was what I wanted, there was always that little voice telling me that something was wrong. I pushed it back, I ignored it, I subdued it in any way possible because I didn’t want to stop. I was feeling somewhat normal, so to speak… as normal as a dark and twisted, tortured soul could feel, and I wasn’t willing to accept that the one thing that made me feel normal, whole, even powerful—even when I was a submissive—could possibly have been wrong in any way.
“When Elliot told me that Elena had made a pass at him, at first I thought it was Stupid Elliot just being stupid and I couldn’t understand why he would say anything like that. Then I thought that maybe just like I wanted to be him, he wanted to be me—that he may have seen the relationship that Elena and I had, and he didn’t have it and maybe he was jealous of it. The only problem with that theory is that no one knew about the relationship that Elena and I had. So, that couldn’t be it either, but when he spoke to me about it, I could see it in his eyes. I knew he was telling the truth. I knew he was telling the truth about what he saw and what happened to him as a 14-year-old boy. Even though I knew he wasn’t lying, I didn’t see anything wrong with what Elena was doing. My biggest conflict from this revelation were my feelings. I felt something strange and I don’t know what it was. My biggest conflict was that I couldn’t identify these feelings and emotions. That was the biggest problem for me; I couldn’t discern what I felt about Elena making a pass at my brother.
“I had to go see Flynn to work out what I was feeling, to talk out the thoughts that were in my head because they were one big jumble of mess. He had told me for years that this was an unhealthy relationship and that this woman was a pedophile. Every time he tried to tell me, I didn’t want to hear it because that same little voice that was saying ‘something is wrong’ was now coming out of Flynn’s mouth and I didn’t want to hear it coming out of a live person. Everything was right. My life was where I wanted it and I was just fine. You never miss something that you never had. If I never had closeness and love and things like that, I would have never missed them, so I didn’t know I was missing out on normal relationships because I never had a normal relationship.
“When I was finally able to put everything together and I was finally able to see and understand and accept the fact that this woman was a pedophile and that this whole situation in and of itself was just wrong, then that unspoken unknown question finally came blaring at me in stereophonic sound.”
“What was the question?” I ask.
“’Where do I belong?’ It’s the question that has been screaming at me from the moment I can remember consciousness. When the crack whore’s pimp put cigarettes out on my body, even then I knew that wasn’t where I belonged. When I hid while my mother had sex with men for money or for drugs, I knew even then that wasn’t where I belonged. When I found myself in a place where I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t be touched, I couldn’t be loved, I knew even then that wasn’t where I belonged. When I found myself chained in a dungeon being beaten and tortured for sex, I knew—even though I didn’t want to admit it—that wasn’t where I belonged. And every time I dismissed a sub because she wanted more and I couldn’t give it to her, I knew that wasn’t where I belonged.
“When it came to light what Elena had done to me all these years, when I was at the worst point of my life and couldn’t hold myself together, when it came to light that she had taken advantage of me after all of this time, I knew then that after 29 years, I had to find where I belonged and being under this woman’s control and in her shadow was definitely not where I belonged. Even if it meant that I was alone and lonely with no one to talk to and nobody around me, I definitely did not belong there with her. You are the first woman that I saw and felt something inside for. I’ve felt care and concern and sympathy for women. Even after I’ve ended their contracts, I felt some of the sympathy for them that I couldn’t give them what they needed. But I never felt anything that made me yearn for someone—that made me have to have them in my life. I never felt like not being able to see them again would be the end of me.
“The moment that I—in my own mind—cut ties with Elena, the blinders were removed, and I could see! It was like she was standing in front of the sun and I couldn’t see the light, and when I cut her loose on that Friday night, before I came to you and I crashed your date, she was gone. She had moved from blocking my sun and I could finally see. When I could finally see, out of all the women that I have been around, that I’ve known, that I’ve seen, that I’ve been with, the only one that came to my mind at that moment was you and I had to go and find you. I had to find you and I had to see you. When we sat there and we had dinner and we talked, I felt like if I didn’t have you even if only for that one night that I would just explode and die on the spot… that my life’s blood would just drain out of me and I would just die.
“I didn’t know where it was going to go after that because as you know I had no experience with relationships, but I just knew that at that moment I had to have you. When you talked to me and you said that you didn’t know where it was going and you just wanted to see, it was like 29 birthdays and 29 Christmases all in one moment. I was thrilled that you just wanted to see where we were going. I didn’t know what was going to happen after that, but it didn’t take long for me to finally stop hearing that little voice. The little voice asked the question, and the answer came back loud and clear.”
“Where do you belong?” I ask.
“Here… in this time, at this place in my life… with you,” he says, without blinking, yet another tear falling from his eye.
At that moment, I feel like I might just burst. Warmth starts in my bare feet and rises quickly all the way to my head and pours out of my eyes in nonstop tears. I bury my face in my hands and weep deeply. I have no other way to express what I feel.
I hear him saying something to me, putting one arm around me and pulling me closer to him, trying to comfort me, but I don’t need comforting. If anything, he does. I’m so full of love and emotion and gratitude for him sharing this moment with me… this deep, precious, personal moment. I throw my arms around his neck and pull him into me as much as I can, hoping to mold him into me, to give him the warmth that I’m feeling in my heart and soul.
“Baby, please don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.” He has one hand splayed against my back and one hand wrapped protectively around me. I try to stop, but I can’t. My emotions are flooding out of every pore and all I can do to calm myself is kiss him… his chest and his neck where my collar is displayed, his chin, his beautiful face, everywhere I can find skin. It’s not enough. I have to have him now—right here, right now.
I make quick work opening his shirt, and he doesn’t stop me. He knows what I want. My hands are moving faster than my brain as I proceed to the buckle on his pants. He holds his hands up almost in surrender and it has to be the sexiest thing I have ever seen. When I open his zipper and pull his boxer briefs back, his erection springs free from the little “V” formed by his pants. I take him in my hand and squeeze, pumping him sensually as he hardens in my hand.
“Ah! Ana, baby!” he breathes as he leans back on his hands and throws his head back in ecstasy. I straddle him and kiss his neck and his chest, still stroking his member as he thrusts into my hand. As I lick his chest and his neck around my collar, a gravelly moan comes out of his chest, his eyes still closed.
He is mine!
I quickly position myself over him and slide down onto him, wrapping him in my sex. He cries out in surprise and arousal, his right leg moving under me like he doesn’t know what to do with it. His hands begin to reach for me.
“No,” I breathe. “Hands on the ground.”
“Yes, baby,” he pants, leaning back on his hands while trying, and failing, to control his breathing. “Oh, God, Ana…” His eyes are screwed shut. I pull my dress higher, above my thighs and halfway over my ass, so that I can open my legs wider and take him deeper.
“Oooooo,” I moan, and I slowly grind my hips into him and rise just as slowly, taking my time in loving my man, feeling every inch of him fill me. “Christian, you feel so good.”
“Ana… ah… ah… oh my God…” His mouth is open, and I can’t help it. Placing my hands on either side of his head, my hands buried in his hair, and I pull his mouth to mine. I assault his tongue with my own, tasting his lips and his delicious kiss as I continue to pleasure his hard, velvety rod with my sex. I moan into his mouth and a high, short tortured cry comes out of his throat. His erection is throbbing endlessly, and I thought I felt him coming with that last moan. Thankfully, I was wrong.
“Yes, baby, give it to me,” I breathe as I continue to ride him, slowly and sensually.
“Oh God, baby… please… let me touch you… please…” he beseeches me.
“Yes… touch me, Christian.” His hands fly immediately from the ground around my back, holding me close to him trying to get me to stop my strokes, but it’s too good and I’m too close.
“My Baby, my woman…” he moans as he puts his face into my chest. He feels so incredible, underneath me, inside of me, around me, holding me… his closeness and skills are going to start an explosion in something like 6, 5, 4…
“Aaaaaahhhhhh! Oh God, Christian!” I don’t know if the crying, the stroking or the closeness sets him off, but just as I’m exploding into a thousand tiny little fiery orgasmic pieces, my man cries out in the highest pitch I’ve only heard in Anguilla…
“Uuuugggggghhhhhhh!” He grabs my ass and slams me down onto him, wiggling his hips and prolonging my orgasm as long as possible.
“Holy Mother of God!” he cries as he digs into me deeper and deeper and my hips are burning. He feels fantastic! Before either of our throbbing stops, he stands quickly with me still in his arms. I instinctively wrap my legs around him, his jacket hanging off my shoulders, as he takes quick strides back to the RS7.
“My turn,” he says sensually as he lays me on the hood of the car and begins pushing into me… slowly… methodically… I love to watch his sculpted abs while we’re making love or when I’m pleasuring him with my mouth. It’s a sexy exhibition of his control, his skills, and his arousal. It makes me so hot and I can feel myself building again.
“Ah,” I let out a small moan as I clench his arms. He’s standing over me, concentrating all his efforts to the undulation of his hips.
“Sssss… yes, baby. You are so hot… so wet…” he groans. His hands are flat on the car and the only part of him that’s moving are his hips, slowing grinding into me and sliding his shaft in and out, in and out in delicious long, deep, burning strokes. I close my eyes and concentrate on the immense pleasure that he’s giving me… stroking mercilessly between my legs, gyrating masterfully against my bud and the sensitive nerves in my pleasure center.
“God… aahh!” I exclaim as I feel the pleasure slowly building in my core. I try to regulate my breathing so that I don’t come too quickly. My man is so good at what he does.
“Open your eyes, baby,” he says gently. “I want to see you when you come.” I slowly open my eyes and gaze at him.
“Ah… ssssss!” He hisses. He almost loses his rhythm when our eyes meet. I know what he’s doing. He’s bringing us both slowly and sensually to release. It’s so passionate when he does this… I hope I can take it.
His stroke becomes more intense… stronger and deeper, but not faster… and I feel myself moving up the car as he groans with each re-entry. His thrust pushes me further and further until he lifts me to avoid the wipers and sets my back on the windshield. I’m a little concerned about the glass until I quickly realize that my control-freak-safety-conscious boyfriend probably has shatterproof glass. The thought was quite fleeting as he positions himself lying half on top of me and half on the side of me. One of my legs is between both of his. His left leg is bent, holding my right leg up and bent over his and he is buried balls deep in the most delicious side and front circular stroke I’ve ever felt.
“Oh God, Christian…” I mewl and he buries himself inside of me, joining us in exquisite passion. He brings his hand up to cup my cheek and buries his fingertips in my hair. He closes his eyes and it looks like he is dreaming—a peaceful, sensual dream. Except for his tongue that plays sensuously with his lips, nothing else moves and his face is completely relaxed in total satisfaction. I hear the perfect song playing in my head as he cocoons me with his body, his arm, his hands, his love…
Now I see, this is the way it’s supposed to be
I met you and now I see
This is the way it should be
This is the way it should be, for lovers
They shouldn’t go it alone
It’s not so good when you’re on your own
So come to me, now we can be what we want to be
I love you and now I see
This is the way it should be
“You are so beautiful. You are my life, Ana. I love you with everything I have in me. There is no me without you.” He’s looking deep into my eyes and I can see into his tortured soul, releasing all of his fears and trusting me with his heart and his life. It reaches into the very core of me and rips away all of my resistance.
“Oh, Christian,” I wail, tears bursting from my eyes as my body rises quickly into a feverishly hot, trembling, intense, blinding orgasm. “Oh God, Christian… I love you so much!” I weep.
“Oh, Ana!” he cries as I feel his strokes intensify. Moments later, I listen as the night echoes our cries of passion and that beautiful song is on repeat in my head… a soundtrack to our magnificent release.
“We’re sex maniacs,” I laugh. We’re sprawled on the hood of the RS7 and I’m laying partially in Christian’s arms looking up at the sky.
“Ana,” I raise my head and look up at him. “I meant what I said. I love you and I can’t be without you.”
“I know, Christian,” I assure him. “I love you, too.” He sighs.
“It’s too soon to ask you to marry me,” he looks down into my eyes, “again,” he finishes and we both laugh. “Is it too soon to ask you to move in with me?” he asks, his gray eyes pleading with me.
“Christian!” I breathe. How could he know exactly what I’ve been feeling? He couldn’t possibly…
“I want my home to be your home. I want to move closer to getting on with my life—with our life. I know what I want, and I want to be with you. Please, Butterfly. Please move in with me.”
“What about my condo?” I ask. Will he expect me to sell it?
“You can do whatever you want with your condo—keep it, sell it, sublet it, whatever you want. Please, Butterfly… please live with me,” he beseeches me.
“Yes… of course I’ll live with you.” I smile up at him and he brings his lips to mine.
I relax in Christian’s arms, taking in his warmth and basking in the fact that he just asked me to move in with him. We have a lot ahead of us—bringing the Green Valley assholes to their knees, finally getting She-Thing out of our lives once and for all, David’s trial, and most of all facing the pain and nightmares that threaten our happiness. There’s enough bad to swallow us whole if we’re not careful, but right now, I choose to focus on the good—like the look on She-Thing’s face when Christian put her and her little rats in their places; or Maxie and Phil’s upcoming wedding; or the fact that I’m lying here in the arms of the man that I love so dearly and that very soon, I’ll have a new permanent address on 4th Avenue in Seattle, Washington.
To be continued in Book II…
A/N: Well, my lovelies, we have come to the end of Book I. I want to thank you all for taking my first journey with me. It has been fabulous… so far.
But it ain’t over yet!
I had to rewrite the entire backstory as a mini-story all its own. I have the new “Christian’s” backstory here on my blog. It will most likely be in four shorter installments so that you can get a sneak peek into the content of the actual book.
So, if you haven’t gotten on my mailing list… WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?
Make sure you check out the pictures on the Pinterest board at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele/
By the way, the “release” song at the end was Paul McCartney—This Never Happened Before
You can join my mailing list on the “Contact Me” page. Just indicate in the message that you would like to join the mailing list.
Thanking you all once again for taking this journey with me and saying “see you later” to Paging Dr. Steele…