So, we are moving on with Ana and Christian’s adventurous weekend. I do want to mention here that I have been catching up on my reading and that Ana and Christian do something in at the end of this chapter that I happened to read in someone else’s stories. Please know that my chapters are written well in advance and that I DO NOT use anyone else’s ideas in my stories. Also know that there are only so many adventurous things that you can do and at some point, the ideas are going to butt heads. So please, do not send me messages that I took someone else’s idea… you know me better than that. But I will admit now that I did read it somewhere else AFTER I wrote it but BEFORE I posted it and I decided not to change it.
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 fanfic in MY interpretation as a fan. I hope you—as a fellow fan—enjoy it, too.
Chapter 47—More About Us…
I couldn’t live in Napa Valley. I would be a 400-pound wino. The food is extraordinary and the wines are exquisite! For lunch, we feast on smoked salmon crêpe with crème fraîche, American caviar and honey onion marmalade followed by a red and green apple endive salad with gorgonzola cheese, hazelnuts and mustard vinaigrette. Our entrée is roasted beef tenderloin with a sauté of baby vegetables, shiitake mushrooms and fresh herbs garnished with balsamic-onion marmalade, Cabernet reduction and fig syrup coupled with a 2009 Jericho Canyon “Creek Block” Cabernet Sauvignon. Somebody in this place is reading my mind.
Christian and I are feeding each other lovingly off our own plates. When we crack into the coconut panna cotta garnished with fresh blueberries and the tiramisu cloaked in a milk-chocolate shell, I almost forget about the skank at the next table eye-fucking my man.
“Come and sit next to me,” I say softly and he smiles devilishly at me.
“Gladly,” he says, pushing his wine and dessert to my side of the table and quickly sliding into the booth next to me. He is completely blocking my view of the horny heifer on the opposite side of the train. He immediately begins feeding me the panna cotta. It is heavenly. I am transported back to last night and our taste sensations, among other things. I close my eyes and savor the moment.
“You are going to have to stop doing that,” he whispers in my ear. “You are making me want you again.” Oh, good God, this man is amazing. He holds my face in place while he gently devours my neck, sending delicious chills right to my core.
“Christian, please,” I beg him quietly. “I’m going to leave a wet spot on the bench.”
“Then that will make two of us, my dear. Look how much I want you.” He drags my hand to his massive erection and I nearly expire. I quickly scan the room to see if we have an audience. There are no children and almost everyone is concentrating on their meals or traveling companions—except, of course, for You-Know-Who in the next booth. Shouldn’t she be embarrassed to be staring so hard?
I gently caress his erection eliciting a nearly inaudible moan. I’m glad that we took one of the booths near the end of the train and there is a wall behind us with Chuck and Ben in the booth in front of us. I wish they had taken the booth next to us… then again, maybe not since I am shamelessly rubbing my man’s dick.
“You are a little minx, you know that?” he groans.
“I’m only doing to you what you do to me, Mr. Grey,” I say seductively. Then I hear a gasp from the next table. Shit! She heard me. The cat is out of the bag now. So much for anonymity. Again, Christian is oblivious to her reaction until she speaks.
“You’re Christian Grey,” she purrs. He looks over his shoulder, irritated that someone dare interrupt our canoodling.
“Who are you?” The ire is clear in his voice as I slide my hand away from his disintegrating erection. She wipes her mouth daintily with her napkin and rises from her seat. I am glaring at her so hard that I didn’t even catch her name as she extends her hand to Christian. Ben is out of his seat and at her side before she can fully reach him. Her companion is watching the entire episode with irritated bemusement.
“Again, I ask, who are you?” Christian’s voice is growing more and more impatient. I put my hand on his thigh trying to calm his annoyance. It works, the gesture and the result not getting past the Horny Heifer.
“I just… know who you are and I’m just very pleased to meet you,” she responds, her earlier brazenness now subdued. Christian looks from her to her companion and back to her. He cocks his head at her in a way that clearly asks, “What the fuck are you up to,” though he never says a word.
“Sit. Down.” Her companion nearly growls the words at her. She shoots a look over her shoulders at him. He is scowling at her. She looks at Ben, then at me before flashing a seductive smile at Christian and taking her seat. He turns back to me.
“What a way to ruin a good moment,” he grumbles. I trace the seam on the inside of his thigh. His breath catches.
“She hasn’t ruined anything for me,” I say softly, “and I would like to finish my dessert, please.” A full grin spreads across his face as he takes a spoonful of the panna cotta.
“You are devilishly delectable,” he says as he brings the spoon to my lips. I slowly remove the delicious confection from the spoon, purposely getting some in the corner of my lips. It was my intention to lick it off seductively, but he beat me to it.
Oh, Mr. Grey…
We walk hand in hand, touring the beautifully restored train. Each car has a different theme from the open-air western car to the Dessert Lounge car with the luxurious seats facing out the window. We are back in our anonymity bubble as we walk through the train, even with Chuck and Ben shadowing us. We get the occasional glance from curious passengers and even women gazing longingly at my man, but nothing worth calling the cops over.
Once we get to the observation deck, I let the wind blow tendrils of hair from my chignon. It’s heavenly. Christian pulls me against him, my back to his front, and cradles me in his arms. Chuck and Ben are a few feet away—just outside the doors—keeping watch like good little Nutcracker soldiers.
“You are enchanting, Anastasia,” he says as he breathes deeply in my hair. “The men in there can’t keep their eyes off of you.” I giggle helplessly.
“Did you forget that overheated hussy’s performance while we were having our lunch? And all the women in the dessert car—they’re drooling!” He lifts my chin to look into my eyes.
“I only see you, Butterfly,” he says, just above a whisper. I breathe in his words, closing my eyes and absorbing his love.
“You make my heart soar, Christian,” I breathe and he brings his lips down to mine in a gentle, loving kiss.
We head back inside, skipping the wine tasting car since we plan to taste wines as Castello di Amorosa, and head back towards the Vista Dome for the last few minutes of our ride. We will be at the end of the line soon and that’s were we get off. Many of the other passengers will stay on and take the train round trip.
As we leave the Wine Tasting Car, we pass the horny heifer and her companion once more. She smiles coyly at Christian who pulls me to the front of him, no doubt in an effort to curtail her advances. It didn’t work.
“What the…?” he proclaims as we walk by the couple. I look back at him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, concerned. He turns around and looks back at the horny heifer, then at me.
“She just touched me,” he says. I try to stay calm.
“She might have just brushed you, Christian. It is a narrow space,” I say, trying to defuse him.
“Did he brush you?” I frown.
“Um, no,” I respond.
“Yeah, he didn’t brush me either, nor did he squeeze my ass.” He reaches into his pocket and looks down at a piece of paper. “And I don’t think this is his name and number.” He hands me the piece of paper with the hussy’s number on it and a kiss in her pretty pink lipstick.
I am past him before he can catch me.
“Excuse me,” I say to her back and she turns around to face me. “If you want to keep that hand, you’ll keep it off of my fiancé’s ass.” She looks appalled at me.
“Excuse me?” she says, acting affronted.
“Did I stutter?” I snap, only quietly enough for her to hear me. “Touch my fiancé again and I’m going to break your wrist!” She gasps before her guilt causes her face to change color. She looks from me to her companion and back to me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies.
“That’s fine. Don’t know what I’m talking about. Just don’t know at least five feet away from me and my man.” I throw her phone number back in her face and walk back over to Christian.
“You are such a slut,” I hear her companion say. I turn around and he has retrieved the paper with her phone number and is looking at it. He, too, throws the paper in her face. “Good luck getting back to San Diego,” he says before walking away. I shake my head and turn back to Christian.
“You are so hot when you’re jealous,” he says, his voice deep and seductive. My insides turn to mush.
“Well… you’re mine… and she had no business touching you like that.” My voice is timid and shaking, my arousal almost causing me to collapse on the floor. He takes a step closer to me and puts one hand possessively on my waist.
“Later, Ms. Steele,” he promises softly in my ear. “You’re so hot, I can smell you.” I gasp at his revelation. What is he trying to do to me? He leads me back to our seats where he cuddles me in his arms, kissing me continuously in that spot behind my ear while we watch the passing scenery out the window.
Looking at the Castello di Amorosa, I am reminiscing about a fairytale wedding that hasn’t even occurred yet. It’s a beautifully impressive structure, complete with a drawbridge—not historic like my castle, but beautiful nonetheless. There’s all kinds of stories about how the builder was thrown out of a French wine cellar for taking pictures and measurements before he even decided to build the winery. Everything in the castle is a replica of some locale or winery from the owner’s experience or imagination, from the Knight’s Hall straight out of medieval days to the chapel reminiscent of old Stratford-on-Avon.
Christian and I had a glorious time touring the castle. There was yet another meal to be had, but we declined. Still full from lunch, we opted only for the wonderful tastings of the various reds and whites while wandering through magnificent brick hallways and gazing off monstrous towers and battlements over fields and fields of vineyards.
I am again cradled in the warmth of Christian’s arms in a courtyard on the roof of the castle enjoying a fabulous Pinot Noir when Christian’s voice breaks our silence.
“Do you really see that?” he says, softly. “The picture of our home and our family that you described last night… it that how you really see it?” I pause for a moment. I feel the fear radiating from him, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.
“Yes,” I say, my voice soothing, “I really see that. I see beautiful children the spitting image of their mother and father. I see a lovely home, built and decorated to our specifications. I see family outings, weddings, birthdays, christenings, and one extremely over-protective father and husband that I will have to reign in every once in a while.” His grip tightens around me. He places his wine glass down and pulls me in to him, resting his forehead on my shoulder and sighing heavily. I reach behind me and caress his hair. “What wrong, Baby?” I ask.
“I’m so in love with you. I’m always afraid something is going to come and steal away my happiness, and I would be shattered forever,” he admits, his forehead still on my shoulder before he buries his face in my neck. I lean in as he kisses my bare shoulder. Turning my face to his, I kiss his temple, then his cheek, until he brings his lips to mine and we are caught in a passion that is bigger than both of us. I place my glass next to his and turn around in his arms. I nearly leap to meet his lips again and we are devouring each other in sensuous unyielding kisses. My hands tangle in his hair as he lifts me off the ground, powerfully clutching my ass and my thigh.
“My God, this dress,” he growls, fondling my butt through the soft material of my goddess dress. “You’re trying to kill me!” I feel him grind into me and I am lost to his passion. Sometimes, I feel like he’s too much for me. He loves so hard and so completely that when his desire is unleashed on me, I’m completely consumed. I can’t match his intensity. How can I possibly be enough for him?
“We have to stop,” he gasped, pulling his lips from my lips while resting his forehead on mine. He places my feet back on the ground while we both catch our breath. My fingers are still tangled in his hair.
“Christian…” I can’t form my words. I don’t know how to tell him what I’m feeling. “Christian… I love you. You’re my soul. You know that, don’t you?” I beseech him. His hands cups my face and he kisses me again, gently and with lots of love.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, I do, thank God.” He kisses me again and again until I forget where I am.
“Um… Sir?” A voice interrupts our passion. “I’m sorry, Sir, but we need to start making our way to the shuttle.” It’s Ben. That must have been awkward for him.
“Okay, thanks. We’ll be right there,” Christian says, trying to portray some modicum of authority. I turn to see Ben walking away alone. What happened to Chuck? Maybe he’s downstairs. I turn my attention back to my hot, panting fiancé. “Let’s go,” he says, taking my hand and breathing deeply once more to compose himself. He adjusts his pants and we pick up our wine glasses with our free hands before proceeding down to the shuttle.
We sit all the way in the back in the corner of the shuttle when we board. I’m certain that Christian wants to get a little frisky away from prying eyes. He’s so… sexual. I mean, he seems to get hornier and hornier as the days go by. I just don’t know if I can keep up. What if I can’t keep him satisfied? Will he go back to his old ways? Are they really old ways? We do keep the BDSM part going and to be honest, I’m slightly curious about some of the other things that I have seen. Right now, though, I’m feeling sexed up and thoroughly used, easily able to go a few more rounds but Christian is always ready to go. What if I…
“What is it?” he asks softly, breaking me from my maudlin thoughts.
“Am I really enough for you?” I ask. He frowns.
“What?” He sounds truly confused. I sigh. I’ve opened this can of worms, now I have to deal with it.
“It’s just that when we’re together, you’re so… intense. It’s almost overwhelming. I just wonder how someone with that much passion can ever be satisfied with one woman.” His eyes are sharp as he glares at me. He almost seems offended, but it is only momentary. He pulls me closer to him and brushes my hair off of my shoulder. Planting a soft kiss on my neck, he works his way up to my ear.
“You really don’t know what you do to me, do you?” he whispers as he licks the shell of my ear. I shiver at his words and his breath… and the lick. I take in a deep breath through my nose and breathe quietly out of my mouth. Thank God I’m wearing this wrap because I feel my nipples bursting out of this dress. Sensing my arousal, his hand slides under my wrap and up to my aching nipple. He teases it through the material of my dress. I’m trying not to breathe too hard but it’s embarrassing. I open my eyes to see if anyone is watching me—no audience. That’s good. I close my eyes again.
“Yes,” he breathes, “that’s what you do to me.” He kisses my neck again and bites my earlobe. “If I’m intense, it’s because that’s what you do to me. You make me that way, hungry and needy and yearning. Don’t you see how hard I come every time I’m inside of you?” Oh. My. God. He’s still playing with my nipple, sending amazing shocks to my core. I cross my legs because I feel like there is going to be a river running down my thighs any minute.
“That won’t help,” he warns, still whispering, “I can still smell you.” I’m going to come. I don’t want to come on this shuttle. I can’t keep quiet. “If I’m too intense, too insatiable, it’s because I can’t get enough of you. You, Anastasia. I can’t get enough of you.” I gasp quietly. It’s coming…
“Please,” I whisper, “please don’t make me come. Not here, please… I can’t keep quiet… please, Christian…” Something in my voice must have gotten to him. He moves his hand from my breast and down to my waist. Still kissing my neck, he embraces me gently.
“Breathe, Baby,” he says softly. I quietly take deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. When I am finally calm, I look up at him. “That’s what you do to me, Anastasia. I feel a consuming passion when we are together and I want you to feel it, too. That’s why I’m so intense.”
“Oh, I do,” I breathe. “Believe me, I do.” He kisses my nose.
“I know that you do. Just don’t ever think that you’re not enough for me. You are more than enough. You satisfy my every craving and make me want more and more. You are everything I want in a lover and I can’t wait to make you my wife.” He squeezes me close to him again and I settle into his embrace, dreaming of becoming Mrs. Anastasia Grey.
When we get back to the Napa station, Christian and Chuck have a few words before Chuck and Ben walk towards the lounge. “Come with me.” Christian pulls me through the doors and back to the bridge. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a little red heart-shaped lock with words stamped on it:
CG loves AS, 04/13/13
“It’s the best I could do on short notice,” he apologizes. I did notice every so often that he was on his phone while we were at the castle. I thought he was taking business calls. It must have been Chuck who went to pick it up. That’s why I didn’t see him when we were leaving. My eyes immediately fill with tears.
“It’s perfect, Christian,” I say smiling through my tears. He hands me the lock and the two keys that go to it. I open the lock and hook it around the chain-link fence and we lock it together. My heart is all full of love again as he kisses me softly on the bridge next to our lock. I am snapped out of my bliss by the undeniable flash and sound of a camera phone. Fuck! Who took a picture?
“His idea, not mine,” Chuck defends as he shows the picture to Christian. There we are, making out in a public place with a bunch of locks chained to a bridge behind us—our little red lock one of the most distinguishable in the picture. I shake my head and giggle as Christian nods.
“Send it to me,” he tells Chuck as he takes the keys from my hand.
“We’re not going to toss them over the bridge?” I ask.
“No. I have other plans for these,” he says, smiling. We walk hand in hand back to the lounge. Ben brings the Escalade around and we are just about to get in when I hear a syrupy sweet voice nearby that makes my skin crawl.
“Lover, my brother has taken up with some tramp and left me stranded in Napa. Can you please help me?” I turn around to see the horny heifer from the Wine Train, but I am immensely relieved that she appears to be talking on her telephone to some other poor unsuspecting sap. She looks up just in time to see me looking at her, then she turns and takes a few steps away from me. “If you can rent a car for me, that would be stellar. I could be back in San Diego and in your arms in a few hours.” What a piece of work. I turn and look at Christian who is shaking his head looking at her, too. I climb into the Escalade a moment too soon as I hear her heels clicking towards us.
“I know that look, Handsome. You want me.” She really has a lot of nerve.
“Why would I want a two-bit piece of trash that sells herself to the highest bidder when I’ve got her?” Christian asks flatly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“You’re just saying that because she’s here. When you’re ready for the time of your life, you can find me.” How? How can he find her? I then notice him reach in his pocket again and pull out yet another piece of paper. Chuck is closing in on them but Christian holds up his hand to stop him. He is also purposely blocking me from getting out of the car.
“Yeah, okay. Good luck in getting back to San Diego.” He gets into the car next to me and closes the door. Just as we are about to drive off, he rolls the window down and tosses the piece of paper out so that she can see it land on the curb.
It’s about 5:00 when we get back to the hotel and we have dinner reservations at the Siena downstairs at 7:00. They graciously moved our reservation from yesterday to today, so that gives us two hours to rest, clean up, and get downstairs. I remove my wrap, shoes, and earrings, and release the chignon in my hair. Scratching my scalp, I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a tall glass of water. It feels good going down. I’ve had wine all day and I didn’t realize I was so thirsty. I finish off the water and go back to the bedroom where Christian has removed his shoes, socks, and suit jacket and has unbuttoned his shirt. He looks over at me leaning in the doorway watching him address.
“You want to fuck me right now, don’t you?” he says with a smile on his face. Hmm, fucking. Yes, I think I do.
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” I respond. He turns to face me while removing his shirt. Shit, he looks wonderful in T-shirt and slacks. My mouth is watering and he’s working me up on purpose. He almost had me ready to blow on the shuttle just by teasing my nipples. “Yes, Mr. Grey, let’s fuck.” I say, stressing the word very hard. He raises his eyebrow at me.
“You wanna fuck,” he says, more of a statement than a question.
“Mmm-hmm,” I say with a smile. He raises both eyebrows now.
“That’s a challenge,” he states, putting his hands in his pocket.
“Mmm-hmm,” I respond.
“No foreplay? Just a good, hard fuck?” he asks incredulously.
“Mmm-hmm,” I taunt, leaning against the door frame.
“Oh, Anastasia,” he says, in a mirthful, consoling tone, “you don’t stand a chance.”
“Really?” I challenge. “So you are so sure that you know my body so well, but I don’t know yours?” I ask calmly.
“Oh, I’m certain that you know my body like none other, but I’m even more certain that when it comes to fucking, you will be screaming before I will.” Oh this fucker is a bit too confident for me. I fold my arms.
“Mr. Grey,” I begin. “You seem very sure of yourself.”
“That’s because I am very sure of myself,” he says, his tone deepening. I raise my eyebrow and smirk.
“I understand that as a… masterful Dominant, you are very learned in the ways to please a woman. However, you seem to forget that I, too, am very learned in how to please a man. Have you forgotten the immense pleasure that you have felt inside of these walls?” I gesture obviously but innocently towards my vagina. His pupils dilate a bit. Yes! I’m already hot and bothered by this conversation and I’ll be damned if I have to start this race to not orgasm alone.
“Ms. Steele,” he says, trying to ignore the erection growing inside of his pants, “you said no foreplay.” He sees through me, but I don’t care. I’ll take any advantage I can get right now.
“That’s not foreplay, Mr. Grey. That’s an honest question,” I retort, my voice heavy with my desire.
“Yes,” he says, his eyes darkening, “I remember every moment of pleasure that I have found inside of you, but that changes nothing. You will still be screaming before me.” Fine. Have it your way, but you have forgotten the torture that you have put me through and commanded me not to come. This is going to be way more fun.
“Very well, Mr. Grey,” I say stepping further into the room and closing the door behind me. I unlatch the large jeweled square that holds my dress together over my shoulder and it falls open to reveal the material inside clinging seductively to my body. Grasping the materials in my fingers just under my breast, I pull down so that it lingers at my nipples before they “pop” out from under the thin elastic that covers my mounds. Never taking my eyes off his, I push the dress down further over my hips until it falls to the floor on its own. I now stand before him in a pair of white lace panties waiting for him to disrobe.
He momentarily forgets himself as his tongue caresses his lips and his fingertips rub together, the sign that he can’t wait to get his hands on me. I watch as he pulls his T-shirt over his body, revealing his finely-toned abs. He wiggles to get out of the shirt and tempt me with his physique. Totally unnecessary, Mr. Grey. I am on fire at this moment, but you will still come before I do.
He slowly releases the button and zipper that are barely holding back his erection, then gracefully slides his pants off his body before kicking them away for him. We both stand there tantalizing each other in our underwear. I hook my fingers into my panties and, taking my eyes off of him for the first time, slide them down my legs and off my feet. Without looking at him, I walk demurely over to the bed and lie on my back.
When I raise my eyes to him, he removes his boxer briefs and his dick bounces away from the material. He is standing at full attention and threatening to give me a run for my money. Oh yes, Mr. Grey, I look forward to it.
After completely removing his underwear, he crawls onto the bed next to me and lies down on his back. For a moment, we stare at each other, wondering who will make the first move. He answers the question for me by pulling me over onto him and impaling me all in one move. I gasp loudly as I steady myself on his chest.
“You like that, Ms. Steele?” he asks, grinding his hips into me. Oh, Mr. Grey, wrong move. You should have kept me on the bottom. You had a better chance of survival that way. The tiger is loose and she is hungry. Let the games begin!
“You like it more,” I respond, digging my nails into his chest and rotating my hips in a circle causing his dick to rub on all sides of my core. This draws a sensuous growl from his chest as he clutches my thighs and thrusts into me.
“Careful,” he warns, “you just might come.”
“I just might,” I say in a husky voice, “but you will, too… hard!” I say as I raise my hips and drop them hard back down repeatedly onto his throbbing member.
“Ssssss, fuck!” He hisses and I feel his leg shaking underneath me.
“Mmmm, is something the matter, Mr. Grey?” I say as I lean back on his thighs and slowly roll my hips forward, up, back and down over and over so that he can clearly see his hard dick moistened and glistening with my juices slowly enter my hot core on each down stroke, gathering a new coating of my arousal for his viewing pleasure on the up stroke.
“Ana… stasia… that… is so… fucking… hot!” He is out of breath as I slide my sex slowly over him, giving him a show with each stroke.
“It looks good, doesn’t it, Baby?” I coo.
“Oh, God, yes!” he chokes, straining his neck to get a good view of our bodies connecting in that most intimate place.
“Ah, ssss… it feels good, too, Baby.” I say in my sexiest voice, not too hard to do since he feels fucking fabulous inside of me.
“Fuck, Ana, that pink pussy looks so good right now,” he groans, clenching onto my hips.
“Yeah?” I say playfully, locking my legs and pulling him nearly all the way out of me to the head, then moving my hips so that only his head gets massive stimulation.
“Ah! Fuck! Oh, fuck! Shit!” I know he loves that move. It takes a lot of control in my hips and thighs as well as some pretty impressive Kegel muscles. I thought the man was going to cry for a minute.
“Yes, Baby. Feel it… enjoy it. You like that?” I coax.
“Oh, God, you’re gonna kill me! Fuck!” No, Christian, just make you come really, really hard. I drop my hips back down hard on him and he quickly sits straight up.
“Dammit to hell!” he shouts as he forcefully throws his arm around me, his other hand steadying himself on the bed. He holds me viciously still as his hips drive into me at a pounding rhythm.
“Ah… Mr. Grey, no patience?” I tease, as the heat starts to rise in my loins.
“What… do you… think?” He almost sounds angry in his earnest. We are both punishing each other deliciously, stroke after stroke and grind after grind. Many times I had to talk myself away from an orgasm because he is so, so skilled at what he does.
“You like that… don’t you?” he declares as he slams into me over and over.
“Oh, yes… yes, I do!” I say, yanking his hair hard on the last word. He cries out loudly, and I can tell that he almost loses the fight with that move. Silly boy, he still thinks he’s in control of this.
“Fucking dirty girl!” he growls and turns his head quickly so my fingers end up in his mouth. He sucks hard and then bites, and the pain sends a shock signal straight to my sex.
“Ah!” I cry out involuntarily as I tighten my muscles on him again. “Oh God… my pussy is getting so tight… can you feel it?” I say, my head thrown back in ecstasy.
“Shit, oh, shit!” he growls. He is now slamming me down onto his quickly hardening cock. It won’t be long now… thank fuck, because I’m about to blow very soon! “You’re playing dirty now. You feel… that dick… Baby? It’s all for you.”
“Oh, Baby, that big, hard, cock is getting stiffer. I can feel it… it feels so good. Fuck me, Christian!” I mewl, my voice full of desire. He groans in lustful anguish.
“Oh, God,” he growls, I can hear the defeat in his voice. Any second now… come on, Baby.
“Ah, oh yes… yes, Baby, yes!” I throw my head forward and sink my teeth into the meat right where his neck bends to meet the wing of his shoulder.
“Aaaaaaah! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Fucking shit! Aaaaah!” He lost. He is pumping semen into me with the force of Old Faithful! I finally let go when I realize that I have won the game, and the spasms from my eruption seem to send him into another release… or some really serious aftershocks, I’m not sure.
“Ana! Fucking hell! Ana!” he screams as he forcefully holds me down onto his violently throbbing, pulsating shaft. Shit, this is hot! I am whimpering incoherent noises as my pussy is just pounding its own heartbeat around Christian’s slowly—very slowly—softening dick. We are clinging to each other, fighting to catch our breath.
“I win,” I breathe, panting.
“I almost… made it…” he protests.
“Almost… doesn’t count… I win,” I insist, still breathless. He pauses.
“You win,” he relents, laying his head on my breast, gasping for air. “I’m going to make you pay for that win.”
“That’s not how it works, Grey,” I tell him as my breath returns. “You take your loss like a man. If you want to fuck me within an inch of my life because you want to, then do it… but not because I won.”
“You cheated,” he says, thrusting into me again.
“How?” I gasp, absorbing the shock of the thrust.
“You pulled my hair. You know that drives me wild,” he growls, starting the fires again.
“That’s no more wrong than that sneak attack,” I defend, my grind matching his. “Shooting while my back was turned… for shame!”
“What about that biting shit?” he accuses as he grabs my cheeks, spreading them wide and pushing me down hard onto his erection.
“Ah!” I cry out as he hits that magic spot. Had he done that sooner, maybe he would have won. “You don’t think I know putting me on top was a tactical move?” I continue, feeling myself rising already as he thrusts deep into me. “You know… that I come… faster… when I’m on top.” Sore loser.
“No, I hadn’t… noticed that at all,” he says quickening his pace and circling his hips with every stroke.
“Like hell you didn’t!” I almost yell, feeling my release rising faster and faster. “Try again, Grey!”
“That’s what I’m doing, can’t you tell?” he groans as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. I moan loudly, trying to push myself away from him. He has me in a lock grip and I’m not getting away. He is pounding into me deep and hard. “You feel so good.” His mouth moves from my breast up my chest to my neck. His hand moves from my hip to my face as he grips my cheek and nape hard, possessively, pressing my face close to his mouth. I feel the quiver as his pace quickens.
“That’s it,” he growls into my neck. “Give it to me.”
“No!” I whimper. Who am I trying to fool? I’ll be Niagara Falls in a matter of moments.
“Come on, Baby,” he coaxes. “You’re fighting but you can’t win. Now be a good girl and come for me.” Shit! Fuck! Shit! He’s right. Only a few more seconds now, just a few more strokes.
“No!” I whine again.
“Okay, baby. You resist all you want. Any second now… any second now… riiiiiiiiiiight there!” Before the word is out of his mouth, I am convulsing uncontrollably and he literally has to hold me down. I actually feels like the room is rocking as I feel him still and empty himself inside of me.
“This pussy! This pussy! Fuck, this pussy!” he growls as he holds me against him. “Goddamn, your muscles do some of the craziest shit I’ve ever felt.” So does your dick, smart ass! Fuck, that one was even better than the first. After I catch my breath, it dawns on me. I push myself up and look this bastard in the eye.
“You let me win,” I declare, and the mixture of guilt and smugness in his face lets me know that I’m right. “You’re an asshole, Grey.” I jump off of him and head for the bathroom.
“Really, Baby, what did you expect? You were so sure that your stamina was better than mine. I know that I put you through your paces in Anguilla, but that’s nothing like…” his words trail off. Neither of us wants to think about how he learned to hold his orgasm. “So what, I let you fuck me good, test my limits, and I came first. Did either of us really lose?” He’s behind me stroking my arms. I guess I really did bring this on myself. I have no idea what in the world made me think that I could outfuck Christian Grey, sex god.
“You’re still an asshole,” I say softly while turning on the shower.
“I know, but I’m your asshole,” he replies backing me into the shower.
“Don’t…” I’m too late. The water is flowing over my head before I can get the words out. “… get my hair wet.” Christian laughs at me.
“We have a blow dryer over there. I’ll dry it for you when we’re done.”
“We only have an hour before we have to be at dinner,” I protest.
“Then stop talking and let me clean you and wash your hair… now that it’s wet…”
She can make miracles happen in an hour. I’m wearing a plain black jacket with matching slacks and a white shirt. After I dry her hair, she disappears into the dressing room and comes out looking like a vision. She’s wearing this beautiful black dress that hugs her like a glove. It gathers to her side and drapes right at her hip. She has a sheer silver wrap and silver stilettos that buckle around her ankles and matching clutch. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun with escaping tendrils framing her face. She is stunning and I feel like a troll next to her, but at least she’ll be on my arm.
Every fucker in the room is eying her as we enter the Siena Restaurant. I will try not to act like a jealous gorilla, but I put my hand in the small of her back to let it be known that she belongs to me. I love it that she is beautiful and sensual, but must she be so beautiful and sensual?
“Ms. Steele, Mr. Grey, welcome to Siena. Your table is this way.” The maitre d shows us to our table—a cozy little booth snuggled in the corner of the restaurant.
“Mr. Mathers?” I ask him. He raises his eyebrow.
“Yes. He thought you might appreciate something a little more private. How did you know?” I laugh.
“He’s a good judge of character,” I smile, directing Butterfly into the booth and I slide in behind her.
“I’ll be back momentarily with your appetizers,” he says before making a quick getaway. I look at Butterfly.
“I chose our menu before we got here. I hope you don’t mind. I have more surprises in store for us tomorrow so it needs to be a somewhat early night,” she says coyly. I take her hand in mine and kiss her fingertips.
“I had a wonderful time today, Butterfly,” I say softly. “This has been the best surprise getaway ever.”
“I wanted this birthday to be better than the last,” she breathes. That’s right. My birthday is Tuesday. I nearly forgot.
“It’s worlds better than the last. You are so considerate.” I gently stroke her cheek. She kisses my palm.
“From now on, every year at your birthday, we have to plan a getaway. It will remind us to celebrate the day that God put you on this earth so that I could find you and make you mine.” Okay, I want to scoop her up and make love to her right here on this table—make her feel as good as she is making me feel right now.
“What about the day he put you on the earth for me?” I ask, staring longingly into her eyes. She smiles coyly.
“Oh, no,” she says sweetly, “this is my birthday present. You have to find one of your own.” I scoot in closer to her and cup her cheek in my hand.
“Don’t worry, my beautiful Butterfly, I will,” I whisper before bringing her lips to mine.
We are walking around the grounds of the winery and hotel enjoying the spring breeze and the smell of grapes growing in the field. We have had yet another fabulous meal of the best that Napa has to offer, including caprese, Colorado grilled lamb chops, and Niman Ranch prime New York strip as well as more of the Valley’s fine wines. We are taking a short stroll before bed when we hear music playing. To satisfy both of our curiosity, we follow the tune to find that there is a wedding reception on the hotel’s vineyard deck. We watch from the ground as the party goes on, and when I hear the familiar tones of Frank Sinatra, I have to take my girl in my arms.
“Dance with me, Baby,” I say as I twirl her around. She giggles before landing back in my arms and looking longingly into my eyes. This is the perfect song for how I feel about her and at the perfect time, when she’s concerned about being enough for me…
It had to be you,
It had to be you,
I wandered around
and I finally found
the somebody who
Could make me be true and
Could make me be blue
and even be glad
just to be sad
Thinking of you…
I breathe in her scent and thank God that she fell into my lap, that she loves me, that she said yes, and that one day she will carry my name and my children.
“I’ll never let you go, Butterfly,” I whisper in her ear.
“I will love you forever, Christian,” she replies and we sway to Old Blue Eyes’ mellow voice.
For nobody else gave me a thrill
With all your faults, I love you still
It had to be you,
It had to be you.
As the song plays out, I kiss her lips gently, just happy to be here with her. Our moment is broken by a throat clearing next to us. We both look stunned in the direction of the voice.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but my new wife insisted that I come down and ask if you would like to join the party.” A gentlemen in a black tuxedo who apparently is the groom is standing before us with two champagne flutes. Butterfly giggles a bit as we look up on the deck and see a waiving bride, beckoning us to the party.
“We don’t want to intrude,” Butterfly protests weakly.
“Trust me, when the bride invites you to her reception, it’s not an intrusion. Besides, she says that love is in the air and you two dancing here is a good omen.” He hands the first flute to me. “I’m Timothy,” he says proffering his hand, “and that beautiful woman up there is my bride, Maria.” I shake his hand.
“I’m Chris, and this is my Butterfly, Ana.” She glows at the sound of her nickname.
“Oh, yeah, she’s gonna love that. C’mon.” He jerks his head in the direction of the deck after giving me the second champagne flute to give to Butterfly. She shrugs and we head off towards the deck behind Timothy.
“Chris?” Butterfly whispers to me as we climb the stairs to the deck.
“What happened the last time you said my name in public?” She shivers a bit remembering the hussy from the wine train.
“Chris it is,” she says with no further argument.
“We were just about to cut the cake when we saw you,” Maria says as we take an empty seat near the bride’s table. “Welcome to our celebration.”
“Thank you so much for including us… and congratulations!” Butterfly says with a genuine smile. Maria returns her smile then zeros in on Butterfly’s ring.
“Om my gosh you’re engaged!” she says all in one breath while grasping Ana’s hand. “This ring is absolutely stunning, Ana.” Timothy whistles.
“What did that set you back for, Chris?” he asks discretely.
“More than I care to disclose,” I say, faking remorse so as not to give myself away.
“That’s love, Man. Way to make the rest of us look like cheapskates,” he laughs and I follow.
“I love her,” I tell him while watching Butterfly converse with Maria. “She’s my everything.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” he says looking over at our women. He has that faraway look in his eye.
“How did you meet?” I ask him. He takes a drink of his champagne.
“She was a rich kid and I was a poor kid,” he says. “We were in the same biology class in high school. She didn’t even know I existed until she was forced to work at the food pantry one weekend—God only knows why, she never told me. My mom and I went down there every weekend to try to get some canned goods, but we were always too late. This day, I spent the night down there and was first in line when they opened. She handed me a can of corn, a can of green beans, and a can of carrots. It was like Christmas.” He sits down in the chair next to me.
“She looked up at my face and recognized me even though she didn’t know my name. I took the canned goods and hightailed it out of there, hoping that she would think she was mistaken about recognizing me. She wasn’t.” He takes another sip of his champagne. “That Monday in class, she kept staring at me. I knew she remembered, but I wouldn’t make eye contact with her. When the bell rang, I ran out of class.” He plays with the stem of his flute. The next day I was on my way home and she went whizzing past me in her cute little convertible with her friends. I just knew that they were talking about me.
“That happened every day for a week. When I got home that Friday, her little black convertible was sitting outside of my house. She got out of the car and said my name. Dude, I froze. I couldn’t believe she was even talking to me. I was more embarrassed that her convertible was on my street. Without a word, she handed me three bags of groceries. She never made eye contact with me and I realized that she was trying to save my pride. She got back into her convertible and drove away before I could even say ‘thank you.'”
“How did you guys end up getting together?” I press.
“I put a flower on her desk with a note the next day. It just said, ‘thank you.’ Of course, she knew it was from me. It was fast from there. Neither of us wanted anyone to know that we were seeing each other. We knew what it would mean for both of us—she would get ostracized and I would get bullied. We didn’t let the cat out of the bag until we showed up at prom together.” He seems a lot older than college age—maybe Butterfly’s age at the most. What took so long to get here?
“What happened next?” I’m intrigued. This doesn’t look like a rich girl’s wedding. It’s very quaint and intimate.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says with a half-smile, standing and walking to the far rail away from the women. I follow him to see where his story leads. “I can tell from that ring that you come from wealth. That not some saving-up-my-pennies-to-propose type of ring your girl is wearing.” I nod.
“Guilty as charged,” I say, waiting for his reaction. He nods.
“We never came clean with anyone, not even our parents. It wasn’t until my mom was in the hospital dying from cancer and Maria was being set up for a modern-day arranged marriage that everything came out. I wouldn’t leave Mom’s side and Maria wouldn’t leave mine. I lost my scholarship because of it and Maria flunked three of her classes. We couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. Her family threatened to disown her if she didn’t stop seeing me. I ended up leaving the state to prevent the break-up of her family. We were both miserable. We sort of kept in touch—through friends, but not directly. She almost got married but couldn’t go through with it, I heard. I never even bothered looking for love again. She was it for me.
“Five years, seven months, two weeks, three days, and 17 hours after I left California, I came back to a job offer in Silicon Valley and went looking for my girl. She was depressed, anorexic, and lonely—and her family thought that this was okay as long as she didn’t end up with a poor man. When she opened the door, she was frail and haggard, but she was still the most beautiful sight in the world to me.”
I look over at Maria. She sure doesn’t look haggard now. She’s young and fresh-faced, healthy with a lovely glow to her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes, chatting away with Butterfly about God only knows what.
“Her father took one look at me and asked me what was I doing with my life now. I lied and told him that I was a laborer. I wanted to see if I was wasting my time and should just get on with my life. Maria fell into my arms and begged me to take her away from there. We have never looked back.”
“So what happened? Did he ever come around… once he knew that you had made something of yourself?” He shook his head.
“He could never forgive Maria for choosing me over their family. She could never forgive him for choosing status and money over her health and happiness. I wouldn’t marry her until she was fit and well again, so with the help of some charities and agencies and really good doctors, I nursed her back to health before and after work. I told her that we may never see the type of wealth that she had become accustomed to, and she said that she didn’t care. It only took six months for her to put the weight back on, grow her hair back, and come to grips with her illness. That was eight months ago. These people…” he gestures around the reception, “… are the little family that I have left and the few friends that helped us keep up with one another those five and a half years as well as a few new friends that we have met along the way.”
There are only about 60 people at the wedding, but it’s very cozy and everyone seems so happy.
“That’s really some story there, Timothy. You two seem over-the-moon with each other now,” I say.
“We are. It’s like you said… she’s my everything.”
“What would you do if her family showed up again?” He shrugs.
“I have never stopped her from seeing her family. It’s been her choice and I support her in whatever she chooses to do. They just have to deal with us if they ever want to be a part of her life. She’s my wife now, and I never plan to let her go.”
“You bet your sweet ass, you’re not!” We hear a woman’s voice next to us and it appears that Maria has come to claim her groom. He embraces her and kisses her gently while Butterfly makes her way to my side. “We have gotten a bit distracted, but we really do need to cut our cake now, Dear,” she says sweetly to Timothy. He smiles lovingly at her and takes her hand.
“If you will excuse us,” he says to me and Butterfly. “Please, enjoy the party. Make sure you get some cake.”
“We will. Thank you again,” Butterfly says as they go off to cut their cake. “They make a really cute couple, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do. Did she tell you their story?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“All she really told me was that she was dying and he saved her life,” she responds. I go over the details in my head and nod.
“That sounds about right. Come on, let’s go get some cake.”
We drank champagne, ate cake, and danced some more with the reception party before the bride and groom took off in a 1957 Chevy convertible somewhere around the 10:00 hour.
“We need to get to bed, Mr. Grey. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“Not until we get there,” she says with a coy smile and a twinkle in her eyes. I pull her close to me again.
“We’ve had a lot of sex over the past two days. I don’t want to wear you out, but may I take you to bed and make out with you until we fall asleep?”
“Absolutely,” she says with a smile. We dance one more dance before retiring to our room and a night of kissing, cuddling, and fondling.
The sun hasn’t even risen yet and Butterfly is beckoning me to wake up. Boy, when she said early, she really meant early, didn’t she? I drag my ass out of bed and into the shower where the warm water and the view of Butterfly gorgeous ass invigorates me at this ungodly hour. She squeezes into an illegal pair of skinny jeans that make her ass look fucking fabulous and a white spaghetti-string top with a red mock-letterman’s sweater and a pair of black high-top sneakers with red and white soles. She has provided a similar ensemble for me with a black t-shirt and black jeans, a cream cargo-knit sweater and black sneakers. Butterfly snatches a digital camera that I never knew that she had, and we are off to destinations unknown.
I gaze through my sunglasses out of the window of the Escalade to try to ascertain where we are going. It’s no use, though. I don’t know anything about Napa and this is Butterfly’s show, so I just take her hand in mine for the short ride to another hotel about 10 minutes away. We arrive at the Napa Valley Marriott. It’s a nice hotel, but I think the Meritage is nicer. Butterfly gives some instructions to Davenport and Lawrence and we are off inside the Marriott.
“We’re on our own?” I ask her, concerned.
“We won’t need them where we’re going. Besides, you’ll protect me, won’t you?” she smiles coyly. I try to hide my nerves.
“Of course, I will,” I say taking her hand, but nothing gets past her.
“We’ll be fine,” she says, reassuring, “I promise.” I can’t help but return her smile. I trust her and I know she wouldn’t do anything that would lead us into harm’s way.
We are led to a lounge inside the Marriott and I smell coffee. Mmmm, Starbucks. Butterfly rushed us out of the hotel so quickly, I didn’t get a chance to put anything on my stomach.
“Enjoy the coffee, but not too much pastry. We’ll be eating in a couple of hours,” she says. A couple of hours? My stomach will have eaten itself by then! I indulge in the magnificent Starbucks coffee and shamelessly lay claim to two of the largest pastries that I can find. This woman must have forgotten how much I can eat. We are in a room with several other people who meander around talking about this and that but nothing important. After a few minutes, a man comes into the lounge and instructs everyone to follow him. We all get into yet another shuttle and I am preparing myself for another 30 minute ride to another winery. I am pleasantly surprised.
Not only is our ride a mere four minutes, but we stop at a place called Balloons Above The Valley—an enormous launch site for some of the most eye-catching hot-air balloons I have ever seen. Butterfly is like a little kid and I must admit that I am excited for our adventure, too.
“No way!” I say with a full, excited 32-teeth grin.
“Way!” Butterfly responds, unable to stifle her giggle. This is outstanding! We all unload from the shuttle and are allowed to watch as the technicians and ground crew inflate the hot air balloons. There are four launching from what I can see—one that looks like it hold about 12 people, and three other balloons with much smaller baskets. It takes about 15 – 20 minutes to inflate the balloons, and we load inside. Of course, Butterfly has reserved one of the smaller ones for the two of us, knowing how I am about strangers touching me. I help Butterfly into the basket before climbing in myself. We are the second balloon to take off as the one with the largest basket took off first.
The trip is breathtaking. The view is magnificent—miles and miles and miles of vineyards, followed by small neighborhoods nestled inside clusters of trees; various plains of grass and ponds and dirt. Off in the distance, you can see the fog lifting in the mountains. Watching the sunrise over the landscape is absolutely spectacular. I can even see the Escalade following the balloon 2000 feet below on the road.
Butterfly is snapping picture after picture after picture of the unbelievable scenery and I am just in seventh heaven feeling like we are suspended in serenity. The pilot tries not to watch as we share intimate kisses while floating over prairies and valleys of never-ending green grass. We even take a couple of selfies.
Approximately and hour and a half after take-off, the sun makes its way up into the sky. Very shortly thereafter, I am sad to see our incredible journey is coming to an end. We land on the grass and the basket bumps around a bit, eliciting a giggle from Butterfly as she lands in my arms and I hold her close to me. I almost want to ask if we can go again, but I have a feeling that Butterfly has other plans for the day.
“What did you think?” she asks as I help her out of the basket.
“That was amazing!” I say truthfully. “Of all the things I have done in my life, I’ve never been in a hot air balloon before! It was astounding!”
“Neither have I! Wasn’t it awesome?” She is like a bubbly schoolgirl with her ponytail bouncing around like crazy as she jumps up and down expressing her elation. Once she has calmed herself a bit, I take her in my arms and kiss her again.
“Thank you, Butterfly. That was one of the most exhilaratingly beautiful moments of my life.” She is awestruck looking at me.
“You’re welcome,” she says softly. “I’m glad I was able to share it with you.”
“I’m glad, too. One of many more to come?” She smiles.
“Yes. Many, many more…”
A/N: More of a bit of long over due Christian and Ana time.
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