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 53—You’re A Good Man
I refused to leave the reverend’s office until Butterfly pulled herself together. It took several minutes, but I silently held her there in my seat until we both felt better about the difficult conversation we had just had. Reverend Martin informed us that he was satisfied that we were headed in the right direction and agreed to marry us without the remaining three sessions. He said that the other sessions focused on past issues, dealing with them and relating them to our future. Since we were adamant that we are already doing that in therapy, he doesn’t see the need to rehash them. Thank God we don’t have to go through any more of that.
We forego dinner out as we both seem distracted with our thoughts and decide to go home instead. Butterfly quickly creates her famous chicken skewers and bruschetta with tomato and basil and it’s enough for both of us this evening. That night in bed, we briefly talk about the other topic that brought Butterfly to tears.
“If I let myself go, you’d be more concerned with what was happening with me, what was wrong with me—than with the fact that I was becoming a fat old woman. It touched me very deeply. You’re a gorgeous man, Christian. Any other man would just go out and find himself a young, gorgeous woman…” I snatch her into my arms and kiss her deeply, passionately. When I feel her sink into me, I know she finally feels it.
“No one moves me like you,” I say, brushing my lips gently against hers. “No one ever has and no one ever will. It’s only you, Anastasia. Only you—there’s no one else for me.” Her large eyes look up into mine and I kiss her again… and again… and again…
Everything is all set for the premiere party on Friday. I wanted to go to Boys Night tonight, but after dealing with my irritating sister all day, I think I have other plans. I spent most of the day with Mia planning the premiere party for the Faces PSA and convincing her that I’m not going to ostracize her. Apparently, 2013 will not be known as the year I got married or the year I almost got shot or even the year of the Kate Paternity Scare. No, 2013 will go down in infamy with the Grey family as “the year Christian ostracized Elliot.” Good fucking grief.
I want to be with Butterfly. We haven’t made love since Saturday. It’s Wednesday now and I need her in the worst way. I want to show her something that I’ve only shown one other person… one other sub. It’s time for me and Butterfly to take it over. When I get back to Escala, she is nowhere in sight though I know that she’s here. After warning Gail and Jason to stay in their suite lest they see more than they bargain for, I send Butterfly a text to meet me in our bedroom. By the time she arrives, I am wearing my newest uniform of choice. Her mouth falls open when she sees it—she chose it herself… a soft, sheer cotton white button-down shirt–completely unbuttoned–and a pair of black slacks, no belt, no shoes.
“Strip,” I say softly, “everything but the shoes.”
Without a word, she begins to slowly remove her clothes—first her blouse, then her skirt, then her bra and panties, and finally, her stockings. She slides back into her stilettos and drops her head.
“Look at me,” I breathe and she raises her eyes. “This is not a scene, but I am taking you to the Playroom. Before I do…” I reach into the bag I brought in with me and produce a lace stretch strapless bandage bra top and matching micro mini skirt—if you can call it a skirt. I hand to her and she slides the bra on first. It barely covers her breasts, the bottom of her mounds sticking out of the bra and the ribbon holding it together impressively framing the valley in between. So fucking beautiful, my mouth is watering. She slides into the “skirt” equally as effortlessly. Even lying on her hips, her entire ass is exposed and I can see the bottom of her “V” peeking out at me. It’s only a little fury—that should make for a wonderful sensation.
“Take your hair down,” I command. She removes a hair tie and a few pins and her hair goes cascading down her back and over her shoulders. I walk over to her, reach around her and gently cup her ass. “Yes,” I say, admiring how she fits into my hands. “This is what I need.” I pull her hard against me so that she can feel me, feel my erection against her soft flesh. She gasps, never taking her eyes off mine.
“Touch me,” I say, and her hands rise slowly up my arms to my biceps. “Touch my skin,” I growl at her. She brushes my shirt open strokes her fingertips across my chest. “Mmm, yes,” I groan contented as I close my lips over the sweet skin of her neck. She throws her head back giving me full access, moaning her pleasure in sensuous whimpers as I continue to grind into her. “Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Good.” I step back from her and take her hand. “Follow me.”
I lead her out of the bedroom, up the stairs, and to the Playroom. I beckon her inside after I unlock the door, locking it behind us. As she stands in the room expecting, I push a few buttons on a remote and a hidden console opens. I push more buttons inside the console and the room is now illuminated in bright light. Surprise comes over her face as various other panels in the room open, some fairly small and invisible, others pretty large. She’s looking around the room and her brow furrows.
“What’s going on Christian?” she says softly. The first words she has said all night. I press four buttons on the remote and the room comes to life. After a few seconds, a monitor comes alive behind a hidden wall at the head of the bed, one at the foot of the bed, and one in the ceiling above the bed. I press more buttons in the console and the display on each monitor changes to a different view of the room.
“I’ve only used it once,” I confess, “years ago, with a sub. I didn’t like the result, so I never used it again.”
“And… you‘re showing me now because…” she trails off.
“…Because I want to use them with you,” I finish. “I felt nothing when I used them before. Nothing at all. With you, I think it would be extraordinary.” Her face softens as she looks around.
“Where are the cameras?” she asks. I walk around the room pointing out the cameras, able to capture every act from every position, including the three in the ceiling. She walks over to the one at the end of the room, showing the foot of the bed. She looks down at it, putting her face right into the camera. Though she can’t touch it since it’s buried inside the wall behind plexiglass, she examines it curiously nonetheless. I click the remote and her beautiful curious face shows up on the monitor on the wall above the head of the bed.
“Back up,” I tell her. She looks over at me the stands up and takes a few steps back. I admire the view in the monitor before telling her to turn around. She turns around and gasps when she sees herself standing in the middle of the room, her back to the camera. She walks to the end of the bed and puts her hand on each foot post, admiring herself on the monitor.
Oh, fuck! My dick is twitching like crazy! I use the remote to zoom in on her lovely ass. She puts her hands on the backs of her thighs and slides them slowly up her ass cheeks, pulling them open ever so slightly for the camera. Fucking hell! Why wasn’t I recording this? I press record and quickly grab a few items from the chest while she is entertaining herself for the camera, now bouncing her ass cheeks with her hands. Dammit, I’m going to come on myself if she doesn’t stop. I push a large panel which reveals a secret room.
That got her attention.
No longer shy about how she is going to react to being “watched,” I grab her arm and pull her into the secret room. She is in awe again. This room also has a few cameras, but more importantly, it’s covered in mirrors—seamless dance studio mirrors that cover every wall as well as the ceiling of this 12×12 custom room.
I think she’s in awe as I pull her over to the two stools on the far left wall of the room. I’m almost breathless standing in front of her.
“Undress me,” I pant, eager to feel her skin against mine. She looks up into my eyes and puts her hands on my chest. Sliding them up to my shoulders, she pushes my shirt off and lets it fall to the floor. She looks down at my pants as she unbuttons and unzips them. She follows them all the way down to the floor and I sit on the stool as she removes them from my feet and tosses them off to the side. She is still squatting in front of me waiting for instruction.
“Suck it, Baby,” I coax and without hesitation, she swallows my dick pressing her hand against my thighs for leverage. I cry out loudly as I am literally sucked into mindless bliss.
“Oh, fuck, don’t make me come yet!” I have to yell as it seems like I am rising quite quickly. I try to grab her head to slow her assault but she is relentless. I open my eyes to see her in the mirror squatting in front of me in these sky-high stilettos, her beautiful bare ass bouncing slightly as her head bobs up and down on my pelvis with my fingers tangled in her long mahogany hair.
I’m. Going. To come.
“Stop, goddammit, Stop!” I literally have to grab her face and snatch her from my dick, ruining my own orgasm as I don’t want to come this way. I am panting and trying to catch my breath and when I open my eyes, this little minx is smirking at me.
Oh, I’m going to make you pay for that.
I snatch her to her feet and spin her around so that her back is to me. Her hair whips me in the face for my roughness, but her scent just turns me on. I squat to her feet and put a leather cuff on each ankle.
“Cross your ankles,” I command. She pauses.
“I thought you said this wasn’t a scene,” she says, her voice slightly laced a little with ire.
“It’s not. Now cross your fucking ankles,” I growl waiting for her to obey. She tentatively crosses one ankle over the other and I clip the ankle cuffs together in the back so that she can’t uncross them. I put an ample amount of massage oil in my hand and apply it roughly to her ass, her thighs, her pussy. She groans and almost tumbles over as she instinctively tries to open her legs. I catch her and pull her back into position.
Not so cocky now, are you, Anastasia?
“Play with your nipples through the lace. I want to see you make yourself hot,” I tell her. I cover my dick with the oil and begin to pump slowly, gently, watching her delicate hands rise to her nipples. “Yes, like that. Look at yourself.” She examines herself in the mirror. Her lips are parted and her tongue caresses the bottom lip. Yes, Anastasia, just like that.
I pull her back to me and rub my oily dick between her ass cheeks. She groans and throws her head back onto my shoulder.
“Watch!” I command and she brings her head forward and watches her own arousal. She is panting and hot and I fucking love it!
“You like that?” I ask, slipping somewhat into Dom mode, easily able to control my orgasm as I slide between her juicy, oily cheeks.
“Yes!” she breathes, feverishly pinching her nipples through the lace. I shift and my dick slides between her clenched thighs, burning friction against her sex—her outer lips and her clit. She gasps and yelps. “How about that? Do you like that?”
“Yes! Yes!” she coos, leaning her body back into me and clenching her thighs tighter for more friction. Oh yes, Baby. That feels good.
“You know I can make you come this way, don’t you?” I groan in her ear, moving my oily hands around to her abdomen and holding her in place still giving her delicious friction across her sex.
“Yes,” she groans.
“Do you want me to make you come like this?” I ask, moving my hands up to the exposed meat of her breast under her semi-bra. She groans again at the contact.
“Yes! Please!” she moans. I watch my dick peeking in and out, in and out between her legs and I wonder if it feels to her as good as it looks to me.
“Watch,” I whisper, kneading the meat under her breast with my oily hands, moving closer to her nipple. “Do you see it?” I ask her.
“Yes!” she breathes.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Oh, God, yes!” she groans, her orgasm hiding in her voice.
“Arms up… around my neck,” I breathe. She reaches behind her and puts her arms around my neck, not only pushing her breasts info my hands but also making her ass grind into me causing more friction against her sex.
“Christian!” she mewls as she begins to pant.
“Yes, Baby, feel it,” I groan into her neck and my hands replace hers and pull at her nipples, causing her to spike and gasp.
“Christian!” she cries out with her next breath and I feel her hot and pulsing through her climax. She can’t watch anymore as she is clinging to my neck and panting wildly, my dick still massaging her through her lips and drawing her out. “Aaaaaaaahhhh,” she whines as I feel her body shiver slightly and watch her come undone from every angle in the mirrors around us.
My pussy is pulsating from a forced orgasm. The way he stroked against my lips and the occasional friction against my clit combined with the clenching of my muscles while my legs were squeezed together—holy cow Batman! I didn’t stand a chance! Then he made me watch! In these freaky, full-length Flashdance mirrors! That magnificent dick popping in and out between my legs… and my nipples… oh, God, I’m going to come again just thinking about this shit!
He only gives me a moment to recuperate before he turns me around to face him, helping my balance on my crossed legs.
“I want to see that fabulous ass,” he says as he inserts his dick between my legs again. My arms fall limply to my sides as his exquisite manhood rubs against me once more. I’ve just come, so there’s no concern for that—yet—but he still feels glorious rubbing against me, chasing his own pleasure.
“Oh, Baby, this looks so good,” he groans, watching the action over my shoulder and thrusting long between my legs so that he gets the friction from the base to the head. I tighten my thighs around him and he moans loudly. “Oh, yes! Yes, Baby, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good.” His thrusts become faster and harder and I do feel the fire begin to build between my legs again, so I moan gently, knowing that his explosion will come long before my kindling even lights.
“Ana, Fuck!” he grunts thrusting harder and I can feel him growing even though he’s not inside me. It makes me feel wonderful… powerful and sexy, that my body can do this to him just as easily as he can do this to me. I gently stroke his arms with my fingertips and suck his earlobe into my mouth. He groans mournfully.
“Kiss me,” he breathes. “Kiss me. I’m gonna come.” I reach up and put my arms around him, taking his mouth in a passionate French kiss and not letting him move his head. He thrusts hard into that oily crevice then grunts into my mouth pressing his fingertips hard into my thigh, hips, and ass-meat as his cum wildly squirts out of him and over the floor, down my thighs, wherever it decides to land. He pulls back just a bit, allowing the head to nestle in the oily warmness as the last of his semen pulses out of him and he groans into my mouth as if he’s in pain. He breathes hard as he envelops me in his arms, returning my mad kiss as he comes down from his climax.
“Fuck, that was intense. I’m going to come all over again when I see it.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. I return his gaze with total, salacious, wanton, lust. He plants a sexy, promising kiss on my lips. “You’ve got another one in there for me, don’t you?” I nod slowly. “Maybe two?” he says after another sexy kiss.
“Maybe,” I reply, unable to control the desire in my voice. He leans down and unclips my ankle cuffs.
“Follow me, you sexy little nymph,” he says taking my hand and leading me into the playroom. He goes into the en suite and comes back with a warm washcloth. I watch him in the monitor above the head of the bed as he cleans the evidence of his orgasm from my thighs and behind. He goes back over to the magical chest and returns with a spreader bar and a wand. Oh, fuck. I asked for it. Now I’m really going to get it.
“All pleasure, Baby,” he says as he turns the lights down again to what I am accustomed in the Playroom. He reaches for the remote and angles some camera somewhere so that it zeros in right on the Chesterfield sofa. After tossing pillows from the bed onto the sofa, he sits down and zooms that sucker right at his dick.
Christian Grey’s dick in live Technicolor on a 40-inch flat screen. Ooo-la-la!
“Come here, Baby,” he says. I walk over to him. “Turn around.” I turn around to see my thighs and knees in the monitor. Um, can we get a better shot please? I hear something fall on the floor and I look down. The spreader bar is in front of me.
“Bend over and attach it to your ankles.” When I bend I feel him playing with my pussy. Oh, fuck. I try to concentrate on attaching the cuffs. I get one of them buckled and when I spread my legs to attach the other one, feel the wand against me before some attachment slides right up into me, vibrating deliciously as Christian moves it around. It’s smooth—about as long as a finger, but thicker… and it’s curved.
“Oh… Christian…” I breathe, unable to concentrate on what I’m doing.
“Buckle the cuff, Anastasia,” he says, his voice calm and lustful at the same time. I miss the buckle several times, the feeling of the vibrating finger-like attachment surging through me and rattling my thoughts. When I finally get the damn thing buckled, I go to stand and he pushes my back down. “Ah, ah, ah. Double check them. Are they secure?” I pant loudly as he pushes me further and further. I stick my finger into each cuff—comfortable but secure.
“Yes,” I croak, “they’re secure.”
“Good, now stand up.” He pulls the wand out as I stand, but he doesn’t turn it off. “Now sit.” I turn around and Mr. Grey is at impressive attention once more. With the spreader bar already perfectly positioning my legs, I just need to lean back and sit on him. Hmm… a little easier said than done. I put my hand on the arm of the sofa and the other one on his knee. I bring my butt down to him and he guides himself inside of my core. Oh, God, he feels so good. I moan as I slide down onto him. I expect to bounce, but he puts his arm around my stomach and holds me while he slides to the edge of the sofa. He pushes the pillows behind him and leans back on the sofa taking me with him—and now I see why he was zooming in.
“Lift your legs, Baby, and hold you knees.” Oh, fucking hell. I lift my legs and look at the monitor on the other side of the room. There is his beautiful throbbing cock going into my core. Oh, this is going to be more than I can stand. I’ve seen porn before, but I’ve never starred in one like this. I’m not going to last a minute.
Sure, enough he starts to stroke and I see and feel him glide slowly in and out of me, in and out… this is way too much. I can’t watch. Even if he commands me to watch.
“You’re missing the show, Baby,” he croons seductively.
“I can’t watch,” I breathe, my head back on his shoulder.
“No? How about now?” and that fucking wand is back, a perfectly round smooth head rubbing back and forth against my clitoris.
“Ah! Ah!” He’s fucking me and rubbing me with this wand and I blow in no time flat. I’m jerking against him as I come, whimpering and cooing. He stops the stimulation of the wand, but keeps stroking.
“Don’t drop your legs, Ana,” he says, his voice melodic and controlled.
“I won’t,” I choke as he thrusts into me. After several minutes, his thrusts become deeper, stronger—not faster, just deeper. I am finally beginning to build again. He notices the change and turns on that damn wand again, higher this time.
“Ah!” I cry at the first contact with my tender clit.
“I know,” he says, his voice hoarse with lust. “Give it a minute.” He strokes into me hard and deep and he’s hitting all the right spots. It’s painful and pleasurable at the same time. My legs are getting tired, my clit is tender, but fuck, my core is burning and rising once more. He clicks that damn button again, and the pain instantly turns to immense pleasure. The end of the attachment is perfectly round and is applying just the right amount of pressure.
“Shit!” I scream, and grab my knees tighter.
“That’s it, Baby,” he growls. “Let it happen.” I try to breathe, try to focus, but his drilling rhythm and the intensity of the wand has my mind scattered aimlessly in different directions. I can do nothing but sit still and let him fuck me, let him use me. He clicks that button once more and I scream something even I don’t understand.
“Oh, Baby, I feel it. Shit, I feel it! You’re going to come so hard.” Yes, yes, I am. I hope I don’t pass out because it feels like every cell in me is shaking right now. He presses the wand hard against me and it snatches my breath away. I feel him thrusting into me, he’s talking to me, I can’t make anything out. All I can feel is this tingle and this power, this heat between my legs.
He’s grunting and moaning. I think he’s kissing my shoulder. I feel his hand go up to my neck and squeeze as he holds me against him, thrusting into me and pressing this magical machine against me. Stars begin to fire behind my eyelids. My breath is being snatched from my body. Pure and utter Euphoria sweeps through me as this indescribable fire and pleasure burst from my midsection and takes over my whole body. I stiffen, but my legs stay bent afraid that if I straighten then, this feeling will end. I am riding a wave, flying, floating, feeling everything, and it’s incredible!
“Yes, yes, Baby… big one, Baby… bi… g… Aw, God!” he grunts quietly as my insides no doubt grab him with the strength of Hercules and squeeze his own orgasm out of him. I literally have to hold my breath as this wand is pressed hard against a muscle or a bone or something down there, causing me tremble wildly and obviously shaking against Christian. His face is contorted like he is in pain and I have no control of anything below my waist at this moment. Very suddenly, he turns off the wand and I don’t bother letting out the breath that I’m holding. Somehow, it eases out through my nose, my eyes… I don’t know—and I lie there feeling my heart beat wildly in my chest… and my ears!
“My God! My God!” He speaks for both of us. I can’t. I can’t say a word. I think I’m dying. I can’t even feel myself breathing. I just lie there on top of him, my heart thumping loudly through my ears. I think I see sunlight and birds flying, though that’s impossible since I’m in the Playroom and it’s nighttime. I feel movement and I think he is laying me down on the sofa. I feel him massaging my legs. I don’t know where the spreader bar went. I turn my head to look at him… at least I think I turn my head to look at him, and he’s smiling at me.
“Still floating, Butterfly?” he asks, a little smugly. Yes, I know you made me pay for almost making you come with that blowjob. I don’t know what I said or did, but he laughs at me and retrieves his clothes. After he dons his shirt and pants, he carries me in my near nakedness back to our bedroom. I hope Gail and Jason are not around, not that I could protest right now. He places me on our bed, and I don’t remember a thing after that.
I swear, I lost a whole day after that kinky, televised fuck-fest we had. I sincerely lost a whole day! I could have told my patients on Thursday to jump off a bridge for all I know, but the fog lifts on Friday and I know that it’s the day for the Faces of Abuse PSA premiere party. Christian decided that it would be a semi-formal affair instead of black tie since it was just to announce the premiere of the commercial and to thank everyone who had a hand in its production. Just before it’s time to leave, I decide to make a crucial call that I have been avoiding.
“Hello?” She sounds uncertain and for good reason. I sigh heavily.
“Hello, Carla. It’s Anastasia.” She is silent on the line for quite some time. Look, Lady, I’m not pulling any teeth here. Say something!
“Hello Anastasia,” she says, still uncertain. Good grief. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.
“We need to talk,” I say finally. She’s silent again.
“I don’t know how to take this, Anastasia. Every time you talk to me, you’re cruel and terrible. What is it that you want to talk about?” Good God, this woman is unbelievable. I know that I have to do this, but I sure as hell don’t want to.
“I’m bringing you to Seattle, next weekend, Carla. Do you still have access to your email address?”
“How do you know my email address?” she asks.
“Carla, do you still have access to your email?” I ask again. I don’t have time for this. Do what I ask or I’ll write you a letter and carry this resentment to my grave. She sighs heavily.
“Yes, I do, Anastasia,” she says sarcastically.
“Good. I will email you your ticket information and your hotel information. When you get off the plane, one of our security detail will be there to meet you to take you to your hotel. We will meet for dinner and we’ll talk then.”
“What is this all about?” she presses.
“I will email you your ticket information. If you would like to talk to me, be on the plane, but don’t try to contact me before then. Goodbye, Carla.” I end the call. I don’t want to argue with her, but there are some things that I need to get off of my chest and some things that I need to hear from her. I just won’t talk about it over the phone.
I check myself in the mirror one more time. I am wearing a cobalt blue pencil dress with a pleated scoop neck and capped sleeves. My hair is pulled back into a slick bun and I am wearing simple silver hoop earrings and very light makeup. My cobalt blue suede Louboutins and handbag are the exact shade as my dress. It’s early May in Seattle and not chilly at all, but I bring a black wrap with me for the night just in case.
“Wow, you look like a movie star,” Christian teases when I walk out of our bedroom. At least I think he’s teasing.
“Oh, stop,” I say waving him off and handing him my wrap. “You should talk.” He’s wearing a Cifonelli double-breasted slim fit suit in nearly the same cobalt blue as my dress with a white shirt and a slate blue tie. We look like twins.
“You know we’re pretty ‘matchy-matchy’ tonight, don’t you?” I tell him as he drapes my wrap over my shoulders.
“You know I really don’t care, right?” he says, putting his hand in the small of my back and guiding me out the door.
There are more people at this event than I expected. The premiere party is being held in one of the smaller ballrooms at the Marion Oliver McCaw Hall, the same place where the Adopt-A-Family Affair was held. Christian is a little miffed with Mia for getting the rotating Hollywood movie lights because they draw attention, but there’s not much that he can do about it now. Some of the press who followed the lights to the location to see what the fuss is all about go wild when we get out of the car.
“Christian, what’s the occasion?” someone yells at him.
“Just a private party for family and a few friends,” he responds throwing them a bone.
“Why the Hollywood lights then?” another one barks.
“It’s my sister’s idea of a bad joke. Sorry, guys, nothing to report here tonight.” He waves in a friendly manner and a few flashbulbs go off. With my hand in his, we enter the hall and find the Allen Room.
The room erupts into applause when we arrive. I momentarily feel like a fish out of water, but I am slowly getting accustomed to the attention attached with being on Christian Grey’s arm. I smile pretty as Christian leads me into the room and we shake hands with various people. Mia went all out with the setup. There’s in actual photo booth in the corner with a red carpet backdrop and people are taking full advantage of it. There’s a popcorn popper with the red and white movie boxes of popcorn available. The “bar” is not only set up for champagne and wine—no hard liquor since there are a few children present—but also for movie-style soda and candies like at the concession stand. I can tell that Christian drew the line at hot dogs, because the food is much more high-end. Fancy hors d’oeuvres and chocolate covered strawberries made to look like little tuxedos are served and the room is made to look like a swanky nightclub with posh sofas and ottomans spread out around the room. People are mingling everywhere and having a good time. There’s even a kid-friendly area set up on the far end of the room.
“Christian!” Mia scoots across the room and throws her arms around her brother. “So, what to you think?”
“It’s very nice, Mia. I’m impressed, but I need you to get rid of those rotating lights,” he says. Mia frowns.
“Why?” she whines. “It’s a premiere party.”
“Because I don’t want it leaked before the PSA airs and it’s not that kind of event. It’s drawing attention that I don’t want. The press is outside and I need them gone.”
“It’s all in fun, Christian,” she protest softly. He gently pulls her away from the crowd.
“Mia, you did an incredible job with the party and I thank you for it, but these people in this room are about to go on television telling the world that they’ve been abused. These are not actors looking for their big break and they don’t need reporters shoving cameras in their faces asking them what’s going on in here. Please get rid of the lights. Call who you have to call and get them moved,” he says firmly but as gently as he can. Her face falls.
“I’m sorry, Christian. I didn’t think about it that way,” she says chastised.
“It’s okay, but we do need to get rid of them,” he reinforces. She nods and waves someone over to her. A guy in a black suit walks over and she whispers something to him. He nods and takes off to parts unknown. She turns back to Christian.
“The lights are going off now and they should be removed within the hour,” she says softly. He kisses her on the cheek.
“Thank you, Meelo,” he says sweetly. She smiles a quick smile then turns to leave. Finally seeing me, she says, “Hey, Anakins.”
“Hey, Mia,” I say, softly before she dashes off to handle some other catastrophe. Christian tucks me under his arm and we are off to join the party.
We make our way around the room and I meet everyone that I didn’t meet during the filming of the commercial. I am happy to see Luma and the girls and make a mental note to make sure that she gets an invitation to the wedding. In all of my running around, I’m certain that I have forgotten her. There are a few more children than I expected, but it only adds to the family atmosphere of the party. I’m almost jumping out of my skin with glee when I see my best friend and his boyfriend here. I weave through the crowd and go over to them.
“Boy, Christian doesn’t go anywhere without you these days, does he?” I say to Allen after giving him a big hug. Al looks at me, then at James.
“I wouldn’t say that, but apparently, he can keep a secret,” Al says sipping on his champagne. I frown at him.
“What do you mean?” I ask him. He puts his arm around my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Jewel Darling. You’ll find out really soon.” We mingle some more, tasting the hors d’oeuvres and giggling like wedding crashers until it is time for the viewing of the commercial. We all sit on the posh sofas and draw our attention to the far wall of the ballroom where Christian is standing.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” he begins and a hush falls over the room. “As I look around this room tonight, I’m amazed by the diversity that I see. I see the young and the… not so young.” This draws a chuckle from the crowd. “I see the working man, the affluent, the very wealthy. I see the common man and the celebrity; I see mothers and children, students and teachers, I see black, white, Indian, Cuban, Samoan… There are so many walks of life represented in this room, which is both a beautiful thing and a terrible thing. It means that abuse does not discriminate. It affects everyone and is equally devastating whether you are rich or poor, young or old, black or white, gay or straight. It also means that all of these people, all of these victims, have chosen not to be victims anymore. These people have chosen to turn their tragedy into triumph, to speak up and to let others know that the cycle of abuse does not have to continue.”
He drops his head and fights to compose himself. I want to run to him, but I am sure that he will break down if I do. “Some of you know my history, that I have lived a rough life and know the effects of abuse first hand. I have seen some horrific things…” His eyes find mine in the crowd and I can’t help the tear that falls. “…But I know from experience that beautiful things can bloom from tragedy.” He never takes his eyes off of me and I have to cover my mouth to choke back a sob. He finally shakes his head and continues. “You all know that this is a cause that is very near and dear to my heart and I want to thank each and every one of you for your part in making this happen. I thank you for taking part in the production of this statement or for loving someone who was brave enough to do so. I especially want to thank my mother and father, Grace and Carrick Grey, for saving me from a life of misery and squalor and for sometimes saving me from myself.”
I locate Grace and Carrick in the crowd. Carrick is holding his wife close to him and she is wiping away a few of her own tears. “I’d also like to thank my sister Mia for saving me from boredom.” More laughs fill the room as Mia waves him off. “My brother Elliot, for saving me from so many other things that if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Wow, I didn’t know he had it in him to make a crowd laugh. He’s usually so intense. “Last but not least, I’d like to thank my fiancée… the love of my life, Anastasia Steele, for saving me from everything else—including the monsters under my bed.”
That’s it. I cover my mouth and weep quietly. My heart is so full, I feel like it’s going to burst. He says something else about a great production staff and blah blah blah, but I’m busy trying to pull myself together. Al his holding me while I weep a bit. Christian says some final thing, then introduces the commercial before taking his seat next to me.
“Don’t cry, Beautiful Girl,” he says softly. “You’re going to miss you big debut.” I pull myself together and look at the large screen slowly dropping from the ceiling. The room is completely dark before the screen comes alive with the countdown to the commercial. Then there are faces… so many faces. Picture after picture after picture, flashing so fast that you can’t even see the faces. I’m certain that I see babies in some of those pictures and my chest clenches. I can’t close my eyes. I have to watch. Babies… my God.
When the statistics of the various kinds of abuse cross the screen, the room is so silent that you can hear a mouse walking on cotton—even behind the soft piano music playing in the background. Piano. Piano! That’s Christian! I’d bet my life on it! I look over at him and he put his finger over his lips to shush me, basically confirming my suspicions. I turn back to the screen and see that the pictures have stopped on a beautiful woman with golden skin and long black curly hair.
“I am the face of abuse.”
I watch as Christian speech comes to life—black and white, young and old, all walks of life proclaim to be the face of abuse. I have to say that I am stunned. My heart breaks every time I see a child on the screen, and now I realize why there are so many children at the event. I nearly suffocated when I see my secret bronze god show up on the screen declaring to also be the face of abuse. I gasp loudly and cover my mouth. James! How did I not know? That was the secret.
All of the Greys gasp when I show up on the screen. Wow. This PSA has to be the world’s best kept secret. My heart finally breaks completely when I see Luma holding a picture of her now deceased daughter, and I along with many other women in the room are reduced to hopeless tears.
Finally, my beloved comes on the screen to anchor the message, declaring that he too is the face of abuse and that no one ever need suffer alone. He’s beautiful, and his message of hope makes him even more beautiful. Somehow, all the “Faces of Abuse,” including me, appear behind him in a crowd as if we were all standing in the room together along with what appears to be hundreds more people. How did they do that? I wasn’t present for that shot! The camera pans out to capture all of us looking into the camera before the screen goes black, leaving the Helping Hands number and the statement “Be a success story, not a statistic.”
The room falls silent, then the sound of weeping and clapping can be heard wall to wall. The noise is thunderous and all decorum is forgotten as the crowd cries and cheers wildly for Christian’s creation. I don’t think he quite knows how to handle it. He grabs my hand tightly and I smile at him through me tears.
“It’s a beautiful… wonderful thing you did,” I choke out between sobs. “You’re a good man.”
Remembering my words from his parents’ house this past weekend, his eyes fill with love as he stares at me. He kisses me deeply and quickly before standing to his feet and pulling me with him to the front of the room. The cheers get louder—as if they could—and the cries begin to subside as people rise to their feet and applaud. Christian basks in his moment before he begins to speak.
“Will everyone who spoke in the commercial please join me up here?” There is hesitation throughout the room, but people slowly begin to rise and join Christian near the wall. When James walks up to me, I embrace him warmly.
“I had no idea,” I whisper.
“Neither did I… about you,” he says, returning my embrace. My tragedy is all over the news, but I guess my “abuse” really isn’t… which is why Mommy is coming to Seattle next week. I reach out my hand for Luma who appears to be having a hard time joining the crowd. I clasp her hand tightly and smile at her, giving her an instant boost of confidence. We bring the children to the front of the group, and my heart hurts again. I can’t stand for children to be abused. It makes me physically ill.
“I would like to thank all of you for your bravery, your selflessness, and your courage. Without you, this would not have been possible. I know that some of you are accustomed to speaking in front of people and some of you are not, but it takes incredible guts to stand in front of a camera and do what you just did. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” Christian walks in front of the crowd and turns around to face us, clapping his hands for us with the rest of the audience and I almost break down again. Seizing the moment, the photographer from the booth moves to the middle of the room and declares that everyone smile. Christian turns around and squats down with the children in front of him, taking one child in each arm and smiling widely. With one arm around James and the other hand holding Luma’s securely, I smile, too—and the camera captures the crowd for posterity.
Christian gets copies of that picture for everyone at the premiere. In fact, he’s feeling so generous that he gives the photographer permission to release the picture to the press, but only at 5:00 on Saturday evening—well after the PSA has aired a few times. The Greys make their way over to me the moment we were able to break from crowd. I’m greeted with silent, sincere hugs from all of them and a hopeful, “We’ll talk… whenever you like” from Grace. I smile warmly at her and nod, saying nothing else about the ordeal that secured me a place in the PSA.
The ride home is spent in silent contemplation, with Christian rubbing gentle circles in my hand. The moment we hit the door of Escala, he scoops me up in his arms, carries me to our bedroom, and makes sweet love to me until we fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms.
She is magnificent and I love to watch her sleep. She makes me a better “me” and I love her for it. She is sprawled out over our bed, comfortable in sated slumber… and beautiful. I kiss her gently on the lips, careful not to startle her, then rise out of the bed. After donning my pajama pants, I go to the kitchen and prepare a tray with two small plates, bowls and flatware. I fill a medium bowl with fresh fruit salad and put two bagels in the toaster. I grab the cream cheese and the avocado-cilantro spread and put it on the tray with the fruit salad. Before the bagels pop out of the toaster, I make two tall cranberry spritzers and add them to the tray. The bagels pop out just as I am pouring two cups of coffee.
I load everything onto the tray, cover the contents with white napkins, and carefully carry it back to our bedroom to my sleeping fiancée. Placing the tray on the nightstand I climb back in bed with the love of my life.
“Wake up, Baby,” I say softly against her skin. She purrs then whimpers.
“I didn’t miss it, did I?” she coos. Oh God, she is so cute.
“No, baby, we have about another hour,” I assure her. “I brought you some breakfast.” She smiles.
“You did?” she says softly. I know she’s expecting peanut butter and jelly or cold cereal. It’s something just as simple, Butterfly.
“I did. You’ll have to sit up, first, though,” I tell her.
“I have to pee,” she says softly, stretching like a cat.
“I can wait,” I say.
“Tell me what it is,” she says coyly.
“No. Go pee, and then you can eat,” I say with a smile. She tries to look around me, then sticks her tongue out at me when all she sees is white napkins. When she goes to the en suite to relieve herself, I uncover the tray and move one of the spritzers and a coffee to her nightstand before covering it again.
I hear her washing her hands at the sink and I locate the remote for the television in the panel of the wall—that we never watch—and push the button to reveal the hidden mechanism. Butterfly comes out of the bathroom wearing the dress shirt that I left in there last night.
“There’s a television in here?” she says, surprised.
“We’ve never had reason to watch it now, have we?” I say, raising my eyebrow. She smiles at me and climbs back in bed.
“Feed me, Mr. Grey,” she says playfully. I put our tray on the bed and give her one of the napkins, taking the other for myself to reveal our continental breakfast.
“Oh, wonderful!” she says, surprised again. “Mr. Grey, you’re full of surprises.”
“I hope so,” I say filling her bowl with fresh fruit and handing it to her. “Your drinks are on the nightstand.” She smiles and takes the bowl from me. She groans in delight as she digs in to the fresh strawberries, melon, kiwi, and grapes.
“Oh, Christian, this is divine,” she says, shamelessly devouring the fruit. I love to see her eat. I have issues with hunger. She takes a long drag of her cranberry spritzer. “The piano… on the PSA… that was you, wasn’t it?” I nod slowly. “What’s the name of the song?”
“It’s called Child of the Troubles by Roy Todd.” She pauses momentarily.
“You are amazing to me, Christian,” she says. “It was always so personal, I know that, but everything that you have done—you made it… special. Thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of that.” Oh God, I feel like my heart will burst, I love her so much.
“You and all the others, you were so brave exposing yourselves and relaying your stories in those five little words. The impact was so much more powerful than I expected.” She shakes her head.
“All of those children,” she says sadly. “You pretty much know that the adults were abused as children, but to see the children there…” She shivers. “It really drove it home for me. I know now that I really want to focus more time at Helping Hands and I am so glad that we were able to give that money to Grace for the center.”
“You, Butterfly,” I tell her. “That was all you. You could have taken that money and been halfway to Timbuktu by now, but your heart turned it over to a charity instead of keeping it for yourself. I know of no one who would have been in your position that would have done the same thing… no one.” She smiles shyly and drops her head. I reach for her cheek and lift her face to meet her eyes. “Thank you, Butterfly. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy.” I plant a tender kiss on her lips and she blushes.
We finish our breakfast talking about non-consequential matters and turn our focus to the television while we sip our coffee. We don’t care what’s on, we’re looking for our commercial. At 9:57am sharp, I hear the familiar chords of Child of the Troubles, and we watch our commercial in the comfort of our bed. When the screen goes black, she looks up at me.
“James, huh?” she says, lying on my chest as I mute the television.
“Yes,” I respond. “He will have to tell you the story, though.” I nod.
“I know. So that’s what they were talking about last night.” I frown. “Last night, I made a comment about Al following you everywhere these days. They commented back by saying something about you being able to keep a secret.” The realization comes over her face and she nods. “James wasn’t there with Al. Al was there with James.” She looks up into my eyes.
“You never know what horrible secrets hide behind beautiful smiles,” I tell her. She shakes her head.
“You bring something out in people, Christian,” she tells me. “True, not everyone sees it, but those who count, we see the good in you and we love you for it.” I smile at her and try hard to believe what she is telling me.
“Butterfly, as long as you see the good in me, that’s all I need right now.” I kiss her deeply and roll her over onto her back. “I could spend the rest of my life just nestled between your legs, do you know that?”
“We wouldn’t get much done if you did that,” she coos seductively.
“Well, we don’t need to get much done today, so excuse me while I partake of a fruit of a different flavor,” I say while sliding down the bed, nestling between her legs, and bringing my lips down to taste her perfect, sweet peach.
I let Butterfly relax in a nice hot bubble bath after hungrily devouring her through three orgasms. I didn’t need to fuck—I just wanted to taste her. I am in my study now, going through my emails. There are several from my team of attorneys reminding me about the meeting to sign the prenup on Monday. Shit. I have put off telling Butterfly as long as I can. I don’t want to ambush her, but the whole thing leaves such a bad taste in her mouth. The team keeps asking me if there is anything that I want to change and I am tired of telling them that I want no changes, so I just stopped answering their emails and their calls. If there is anything of real importance that needs my attention, I have directed them all to Allen.
They are none too happy about my decision to make him the head of the legal department, especially since the department didn’t really have a head to speak of before now. They were all just a bunch of hard-headed attorneys that did what I said. Once I realized how difficult it was to get them to just follow instruction, I decided that they needed a department head. Marshall, the honorary head of the department, left shortly after I named Allen as the official department head. Not only is Allen younger than every other attorney that I employ, but he also hasn’t even been in my employment for a year yet. Nonetheless, he is one of the most shrewd, intelligent, talented legal minds that I have ever seen. He rivals my father, and that says a lot. I’d be insane not to take complete advantage of his skills.
What I find most useful is the fact that he’s a speed-reader. I have seen him read a 20-page legal contract in about 10 minutes and be able to tell you what secret clauses and loopholes there are in the document. There is no dollar value that you can put on an outstanding lawyer who knows how to speed-read.
Arien calls while I’m combing through my emails and tells me that for the cost of small island, I can have that Bentley that Butterfly asked for. I told him to secure it with my Amex Black and be ready to have it at the castle on the 29th of next month.
The 29th of next month.
I’m getting married. Next month. Shit.
To the most remarkable and beautiful woman in the world. Double shit.
Will I make her happy?
Will I keep her satisfied?
Am I worth all the drama she has had to sustain?
“Hey.” Her voice breaks me from my lament. I hold my arms out to her, beckoning her to me. I need to feel her. She walks slowly over to me. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I pull her into my lap and hold her close to me. I inhale deeply and take in the scent of her hair.
Please, God, let me make her happy.
Please let me make her happy…
“I need to tell you something,” I say tentatively. She pulls back a looks at my face.
“The prenuptial agreement is ready. We need to sign it Monday afternoon.” I feel her sink into my lap.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay. I knew it was coming soon.” She’s amiable, but still disappointed. She’s doing this for me. Please, let me make her happy.
“I got the Bentley,” I say, trying to soothe the blow of the prenup. She raises her eyes to mine again.
“You… you did?” She is utterly shocked and amazed.
“We looked everywhere! We… tried everywhere!”
“Well, we’ve got it secured for our wedding day,” I assure her.
“What did it cost?” she asks. I know her curiosity is killing her.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care,” I tell her honestly. She throws her arms around my neck.
“Thank you, Christian. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Butterfly,” I say embracing her warmly. “Trust me.” She pulls her face back to look at mine, and she knows that I am back on the prenup.
“I don’t understand it, but I trust you, Christian. I trust you completely,” she says softly. I envelop her in my arms again and kiss her deeply.
“Strauss is gone… back to Germany,” I say when she settles on my chest again.
“I thought she had already left,” she says.
“No, she wanted to see if you were going to leave me since you cashed in that 20 mil. When I started digging into her finances, she decided to let sleeping dogs lie. So did I, to be honest, I really started finding some shit that I don’t want to fuck with. Nonetheless, she was doing what she could to get Lincoln out of jail. Sources tell me that she even told her loony niece that you took the bribe.” She looks up at me.
“Oh my God, seriously? Imagine her horror when she finds out about the wedding!”
“She’ll find out sooner than that. We’ve got a PSA that just aired. You don’t think she’s going to see that shit? She’s going to lose her fucking mind. I know for sure that she’s going to know that I’m not just talking about Myrick when I say that I’m the face of abuse. She’s going to be bouncing off the walls in that joint.”
“Okay, so, Edda Strauss?” she asks, getting me back on topic.
“Oh yeah, so anyway, she has connections in the U.S. but none of them will back or help her because they don’t want to be associated with what Lincoln did. Since she couldn’t do anything else, she took her ass back to Germany because with all of her old money, connections abroad are only so strong if you can’t get U.S. connections to cooperate. The only other thing that she could do is put a hit out on us and Intel says that she’s not that bold. Welch has put a tracker on her passport so that we can keep an eye on her, but there’s really nothing much else that she can do here. That not-so-priceless book collection is locked up in police evidence and she’s not getting it back anytime soon.”
“So… no more Strauss,” she says matter-of-factly.
“No more Strauss.” I confirm. She snuggles in to me, purring comfortably, and I cannot resist taking a kind of perverse thrill in the conniption fit that the Pedophile is probably having right now after seeing our commercial. Karma is a bitch and right now, I would bet that Lincoln is choking on it.
Monday comes around and I’ll be the first to admit that I am none too excited about having to sign this prenup. Butterfly was less than enthusiastic when she awoke this morning though she is really putting on the brave face so that I won’t feel guilty about asking her to do this. I know this is tearing her up inside, but it’s something that has to be done.
I’m already not feeling very pleased by the amount of press that have gathered outside Grey House. I know that they are curious about the PSA, but we have already issued a statement about it and we really don’t want to drag it out. The commercial says it all, but a few reporters are still looking for something juicy. We’ve taken the wind out of the Kavanaugh Baby Scandal and now there’s something else that they need to latch onto. The cluster is not too big, so we are easily able to get into the parking garage.
The moment that I get to my office, two of the attorneys that worked on the prenup are standing at my office door.
“Mr. Grey, we really need to talk about this prenuptial agreement…”
“Not now, I don’t have time,” I say, walking into my office.
“I took the liberty of checking with Andrea, Sir. You don’t have any appointments until this afternoon.” I turn around slowly so that my ire seeps out of my pores and drenches this asshole.
“Oh, you took the liberty, did you?” I nearly growl at him. “That’s a bold career move, don’t you think?” I spit. His partner-in-crime wisely sees that this asshole is headed down the wrong path and quietly leaves him standing in my office alone. “It seems that you’re taking quite a few liberties, Abrahms, the first of which is thinking that you’re going to be able to force me to discuss this with you when I have already given you explicit instructions and have clearly ignored all of your attempts to contact me; the second of which is coming into my office uninvited.” I glare at him and wait for him to understand that his employment here is hanging by a very thin thread at this moment. He clears his throat and swallows hard.
“I’ll just… wait outside… for when you have a moment, Sir,” he stutters.
“I won’t have a moment, Abrahms!” I snap. “I’ve given you instructions. Now make sure the document is prepared to my specifications and I will see you at the meeting this afternoon. Do not contact me again before that time unless you are tendering your resignation. I won’t say it again.” Abrahms is itching to talk to me, desperate to get me to reconsider the terms of this prenup, but the concept of losing his job is a bit less appealing at this moment, so he leaves with a nod.
It doesn’t take long for my day to head further south. Lawrence notifies me that Davenport informs him that the press outside of Butterfly’s building has just brought her to tears.
A/N: Although I have read a few fanfics where Ana and Christian televised their sexual play, my idea for the cameras came from the movie “Sliver.” I felt like with Christian Grey’s money, if he decided to televise playtime, he was going to go all out—we’re talking every angle, telephoto lenses, motion sensors, light-sensitive, high-end sound quality, the whole nine yards. What’s the use in doing something if you can’t do it right? The mirror room is an add-on that he wanted to use for short scenes, but never did after he did the first televised performance with the sub. No worries, they will be using the Playroom cameras later.
If you want to know what that wonderful wand attachment looks like, Google “Bird of Paradise Wand Attachment.” I swear by it!
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Love and Handcuffs!