So I had a four-day weekend and I’ve been a writing fool the whole time! My Muse went batshit! Several chapters and story pieces and the heifer went left on me, so expect a twist in the near future! In the meantime, here’s the chapter!
I’ll send the email out tomorrow… I’m too tired tonight and I didn’t want you guys to have to wait any longer.
I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don’t like this story or me, please don’t spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…
Chapter 49—Year Of The Greys
I couldn’t leave her after finding her at the bar crying her eyes out before the party even started. I’ll admit that it smarted a bit that she ribbed me about studying the materials about childbirth and pregnancy. I take her health and the healthy birth of our children very seriously, but I certainly wasn’t that upset about it—a little ego bruised at best, but nothing so bad as to reduce my wife to this.
But after some gentle chiding, I discover that it really isn’t my reaction that brought her to this, at least not totally. It’s the absence of one shrew named Valerie Marshall.
At first, I’m pissed. Another party destroyed—though indirectly—because of this harpy. Then, I re-evaluate the situation and realize that Butterfly has every right to feel the way that she does. She and Valerie spent several years crying on each other’s shoulder and sharing each other’s secrets. Based on the timeline, Valerie was the first real friend that she made after all the terrible things that happened in Green Valley. Now, when she’s her most vulnerable and in need of her friends, not only is one of her closest friends not here, but she has also drawn battle lines and is standing on the other side of them. I just don’t know what to do.
I hate Marshall for what Butterfly is going through, but like Butterfly, I can’t for the life of me pinpoint why the sudden and drastic change in her demeanor. Could she be jealous? That can’t be it. Elliot loves the ground she walks on and he’s not shy of a dime or three. I know that he would allow her to want for nothing, if that were the case. I know it couldn’t be about the wedding or us getting married, because she was a part of every event and nearly every decision, although there were a few head bumps with the planning. Could that be it? Could all of this bad behavior and destroying a friendship that lasted the better part of a decade be all chalked up to petty jealousy? If that’s the case, then that’s really sad. Even I have to give Marshall more credit than that!
Although I truly can’t see what else it could be. Butterfly hasn’t changed. She’s the same person she’s always been. What could possibly be Marshall’s major malfunction?
Elliot is sticking by her like glue, so she can’t be all bad. Then again, he stuck by Kavanaugh, too, all the way until he found out there was someone else.
Could there be someone else?
I don’t dare approach Elliot with that possibility, but I think I’m going to put a tail on Kavanaugh… er, I mean Marshall, just in case. If I don’t find anything, I won’t say anything. No one will be the wiser. Maybe I should tell Butterfly, though. Yeah, I’ll tell her, just not today.
I’m so preoccupied with my thoughts that I don’t notice that people have begun to arrive. James was already here with Allen, but Maxine and Phillip arrive—with little Mindy, of course—and Marilyn has also arrived with Gary just behind her. I don’t know yet if my brother or sister will make it. Mia said that she would try, but we all know that Elliot most likely won’t be in attendance. The arrival of the guests signals Gail and Ms. Solomon, along with the few staff members that stayed on to help with the cooking and serving, to start bringing the food down to the entertainment room. Before the party gets into full swing, I remember that there’s a bit of information that I haven’t yet shared with Butterfly.
“Baby,” I say, leading her towards the rear access stairwell. “I forgot to update you on something today. It sort of slipped my mind.”
“What is it?” she asks, expecting.
“I talked to Welch today. It appears that Mr. Russo’s representative is satisfied that we’re on the same page.” Her brow furrows.
“How do you know?” she asks. I just told her that Welch told me…
“He had a meeting with the guy. He was bugged.”
“That’s risky,” she interjects.
“Yeah, but as it stands, they know that Myrick and I are definitely not friends. In fact, they knew before he made the visit.”
“Then why did he come?”
“Tying up loose ends; following every lead. They really want this guy.”
“So just like that, we’re safe,” she says incredulously. “How can you be so sure? How can you trust him?”
“We can’t, so stay locked and loaded, but based on the conversation that I saw today, it’s safe to say that both sides are content in the fact that we all want this bastard dead. The problem is that revenge has no face, so if this fucker comes anywhere near us, shoot first and ask questions later—I’m certain that’s what Russo’s people plan to do. We’ve got enough on him and his son to justify self-defense should he come anywhere within a thousand feet of us and I’m not kidding, Ana. Shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Yeah, but you can pick this guy out of a crowd. I wouldn’t know him if he walked right up to me and said, ‘Hello.’” That’s exactly what his son did in Butterfly’s office. He had been on her waiting list and strolled right in uninhibited as soon as he got the chance. I get a sudden chill at the thought of that monster anywhere near my beloved wife. I suddenly want him on a slab in the worst way.
“I’m having the latest known pictures of him circulated to the security team. I’ll make sure that you get them, too. I’m trying to put your mind at ease a bit, but it appears that I’ve only made things worse.”
“I live in the real world, Christian,” she says folding her arms. “There’s a mobster looking for someone closely related to you—though not by choice—and that has led one of his henchmen, for lack of a better word, right to our doorstep from the better of nearly 3000 miles away. He gave you a fake name so that you couldn’t find him and walked right into your office. On a worse day, I’d be identifying your remains right now.”
Goddammit, woman, do you have to be so damn graphic? And accurate?
“On top of that,” she continues, “he made a veiled threat towards me and the twins and it was enough for you to load up your Glock and encourage me to stay strapped—something that you have never done, even after you learned how to shoot.”
“I have carried my Glock before,” I retort, or has she forgotten the day she nearly fucked the skin off my dick when I came home in the shoulder holster? Her momentary blank expression tells me that she did, in fact, forget that I was carrying during Operation Sniff-Out-Robin-Myrick.
“Okay, but you’ve never encouraged me to carry mine, ever. Of that I’m certain.”
She’s got me there.
“I always want you to be safe, and you can never be too careful,” I tell her. “I don’t know their complete M-O, but I can tell you this. They don’t want us; they want him. Like his screwed-up son, he already had them convinced that I was the reason for his lifetime woes. They knew about me long before this. If they wanted me dead, I would have been gone way before now. What prompted the visit from Russo’s number one is that I visited Ionia to see if that fucker was still safe in a cell and they’re watching the prison, too. Nothing more, nothing less. Welch has convinced them that I’m not in the same league as they are and that the only thing I want from Myrick is his demise. I saw the whole thing on video. They won’t bother us again. However,” I put my hands on her arms, “I live in the real world, too, and I don’t doubt that someone is keeping an eye on us. If Myrick comes calling, I have no doubt that Russo’s people have the same orders that we do…”
“Shoot first and ask questions later,” she says, her voice heavy. “Get me that picture. I’m fucking tired of people fucking with my goddamn peace. All I want to do is be happy and raise my goddamn babies, for Christ’s sake!” And now she’s pissed. All the fear and melancholy have left her voice and she’s ready for action now—and not in a good way.
“Stay focused, Butterfly,” I chide gently. “I need you to be careful.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Daddy trained me well. If that asshole comes anywhere near me, he better hope Chuck or Ben gets the first shot. If they don’t, I’m sending him to hell with Harris.”
Now, why did that just turn me on?
“Don’t look at me like that, Grey. We’ve got company.” And she walks pass me back into the entertainment room. So much for sulking about Marshall.
The announcement about Russo and his consiglieri had the exact opposite effect on Butterfly than I expected. Granted, I didn’t expect for her to be moping around and melancholy, but I did, maybe expect a tad bit of introspection. No, she’s walking around, greeting everyone and having a great time like nothing at all is wrong in the world. I can’t complain. Not an hour ago, she was reduced to tears before her party even started. Now, she’s socializing, being the perfect hostess—not at all miffed that she can’t have a drink, though many people brought sparkling grape juice and non-alcoholic champagne so that she would be able to toast the new year with a glass of bubbly. Maxine has also committed to a non-alcoholic evening. I don’t know if she’s breastfeeding Minerva or no, but she sticks to the sparkling grape juice with Butterfly.
“I know you probably don’t want to talk business, but I have an update on Edwise Software and Programming.” Al gets my attention with James close behind him. I set my wine on the counter and turn my attention to them. Edwise is David’s—now Butterfly’s—computer hardware and software company. She really doesn’t want anything to do with it and has asked me to oversee the merging of the company with GEH’s electronics sector.
“Is something wrong?” I ask them. I’ll sell that company in a blink before I allow anything with that man’s name on it to cause any more disruption in our lives.
“No, nothing’s wrong that we know of,” James tells me. “It’s actually a pretty lucrative company. However, I would suggest that you allow it to operate independently for another year before you absorb it into GEH.” I frown.
“Why would I do that?” I ask. “The tax implications alone indicate that merging is a better option.”
“Remember that little fiasco with the miscellaneous subsidiaries?” Allen points out. Now he has my attention. “It’s very likely that some of Mr. David’s income streams and expense spendings are a bit on the shady side. You want to leave this as an independent operation before you immediately absorb the company… and its problems.”
“What about Butterfly?” I ask. Technically, it’s her company. We’re only absorbing it because she’s part owner of GEH. “Where does this leave her if the company is unethical in any way?”
“We’ll protect her by doing the internal audit like we did on the subsidiaries,” Allen says. “There was no audit for the lawsuit, just a valuation. By performing the audit, she’s practicing due diligence. She’ll have to cover the expense of the audit, though.” I look at Allen like he’s grown two heads.
“Have we met?” I ask him.
“He’s telling you this because although the company is quite self-sustaining right now, she was hoping to liquidate whatever could be liquidated and donate it to Helping Hands. That may not be feasible now with this upcoming expense,” James points out.
“I don’t see how this is a problem,” I tell them. “Liquidate what needs to be liquidated, like Ana asked you to. Have a cashier’s check cut to Helping Hands as soon as possible. I know she was hoping this could have been done before the new year—tax implications, once again. Now, it looks like that’s not possible seeing that this is New Year’s Eve and we’re having this discussion. Nonetheless, do as she asked. Liquidate only what belongs to Edward David and what is liquid from the company where funds are not allocated to another expense or won’t leave the company with negative owner’s equity. Donate that as soon as you can, like yesterday, please. As far as the cost of the audit, half of my money belongs to her. Begin the internal audit on the 2nd of the month if it hasn’t begun already. If the income from the company is not enough to sustain the cost of the internal audit, she will infuse personal funds back into the company, enough to cover the audit and operating expenses until the audit is complete. It’s perfectly legal as long as we can account for all of the money changing hands. What am I missing here?”
“You’re missing that we don’t want to cross the books…” Allen begins.
“You’re not crossing the books,” I interject. “You do the liquidation and donation first. It’s a charitable contribution. It’s a tax write-off—one that we’ll unfortunately have to recognize next year, now. Once that’s done, you start the internal audit. If we must infuse personal funds back into the business, it’s no different than borrowing money from the bank for an unknown expense, except without the interest and repayment. It’s increased owner equity as long as we put it on the books as such.
“We will disclose the findings of the internal audit to the proper authorities to be handled correctly. That’s it. What am I missing?” Allen and James look at each other and back at me.
“Well, nothing as far as I can see,” Allen says. “As long as we can definitely keep the books separate and show that Ana is taking not funds from the company during the audit, I can’t see any problem with your description. We should run it by accounting to make sure it will work exactly as you say.” I twist my lips at him.
“I didn’t become a multi-billionaire by not knowing what I’m talking about,” I tell him. “In fact, that’s what should have happened with the miscellaneous subsidiaries, but I got cocky. There’s no telling how many fuckers got one over on me without me knowing what was going on.” I shake my head.
“I should tell you that Edwise operates on a fiscal year that ends in February, so if you still want to take advantage of that charitable contribution, you can as long as you allow the company to finish this last fiscal year as usual. Then you can convert to a calendar year in 2014, since it’s the first year that Jewel will be recognizing income anyway.”
“Well, that’s good news. We need to find out as soon as possible what kind of problems we could be facing with this company. What does the internal structure look like?”
“Oh, no you don’t!” I hear her powerful little voice behind me. “There will be no discussion of business tonight. This is a party and I want to hear nothing of mergers and acquisitions.”
“We weren’t talking mergers and acquisitions,” I defend.
“Oh?” she retorts, folding her arms over the babies. “I could have sworn I heard you ask about internal structure. That sounds like business to me.”
“It was business,” Allen interjects, “but it wasn’t mergers and acquisitions. We were talking about Edwise.” She frowns.
“Should that mean something to me?” she questions.
“Um… yes, that’s your company!” Allen says, his voice a bit scolding.
“My company… good. As the owner, I hereby declare that whatever you’re talking about can wait until tomorrow.” She stares at each of us awaiting our surrender.
“Yes, Mistress,” I say in a low voice, but apparently not low enough. She turns her glare to me.
“Seriously?” she says, her blue eyes glassy and sharp. My first instinct is to shrug playfully, then I see that Mistress is not so playful. I frown.
“Oh, come on,” I begin, pronouncing every syllable. “You can’t be uptight about that, as much as you say ‘Yes, Sir.’” And now, she’s clearly uptight and I have no idea why. Her lips form a thin line before she plasters the phoniest smile on her face that I have ever seen on her in the nearly two years that I’ve known her.
“Of course not, Christian,” she chirps. “Carry on.” And away she goes, back in the direction that she came. What the fuck was that? Al sighs heavily. I turn to him and wait for an explanation. When he gives me none, I just stare at him.
“What?” he says finally.
“The first time she and I had a fight, you identified a pregnant pause over the phone. That’s because you know people enough to read the signs. I know you well enough to know there’s more to that sigh than just heavy breathing. Spill it, Forsythe, what the fuck was that?” He sighs again.
“You have just encountered someone that you may only encounter every other year—Passive-Aggressive Ana. I don’t know why she’s so hormonal about the Mistress thing since she’s in familiar company, but be prepared to be sweetly ignored for the rest of the night.” Oh fuck, not this again! I spent most of last New Year’s Eve with my face buried in a glass of alcohol while that asshole Brian pissed all over my girl and she didn’t even want to kiss me! The fuck if we’re having a repeat of that shit…
Wait a minute… How the hell could he know what Mistress means? Everybody calls me ‘sir,’ so he couldn’t have deduced it from that, unless…
I look over at him and he gives me a knowing gaze. I look at James, whose face is more impassive, but I can see that he knows, too.
“She told you?” I ask, horrified. “About us?”
“She didn’t have a choice, Chris,” Allen replies. “That party you guys had—right after you met ‘Marine’s Daughter Ana,’ I saw you. I saw what you were doing, I saw how you were acting, and I saw how you handled her, so I asked her what was up. I thought you were abusing her and I wanted to know. She can’t lie to me… she never could.”
I turn a horrified gaze from Allen to James. Fuck, they know?
“She gave us a few pointers,” James adds, and I’m just getting the thrust of what Al meant when he said “familiar company.” I swallow hard and run my hands through my hair.
“Don’t feel subconscious about it, Chris,” Al says. “We can certainly understand the attraction to the lifestyle.” James slides his hand into Al’s and he blushes beet red. No mistaking who’s the top and who’s the bottom here. “I’m sorry, Chris, I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable…”
“That doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” I say about their canoodling. I’ve seen a lot in the scene. This is certainly not the weirdest.
“Good,” James adds, “because I plan on kissing my man at midnight, and I don’t promise to be PC.” Al’s blush is a even more obvious this time. Yeah, yeah, that’s sweet and all, but back to this passive-aggressive shit.
“So what do I do?” I ask Al. “I’m not accustomed to women being passive-aggressive with me, so I’m a bit out of my element here.”
“Wait until she’s over it,” Al says with a shrug. “She’ll come out of it and stop acting all pissy when she’s ready.”
“Is that so?” I saw, stealing a glance at my wife. Wait until she’s over it… like last year? When she shunned me all night and I found her weeping in the great room? The fuck I will wait until she’s over it! This pouting, pissy shit is not going to go on all fucking night. I’m giving her thirty minutes to get her bratty ass attitude together and then I plan on taking matters into my own hands.
“Chris,” Al says, cautiously. I turn my gaze back to him. “Should I be worried?”
“No, not at all. We’re gonna be just fine,” I tell him before going back into the entertainment room to join the others.
For thirty minutes, I watch her mingle and be the usual social butterfly that she always is… to everyone but me. She shuns me like the plague. Anytime I look at her, she rolls her eyes at me and rolls her head and acts like a belligerent, petulant little child! I have to start counting at minute twenty to keep my temper in check. By minute twenty-eight, I’ve had enough. I march right over to where she’s holding a delightful conversation with Marilyn, Gary, and Phil and clamp my hand onto her wrist.
“Excuse us,” I tell them and gently pull her arm to follow me.
“Christian, don’t be rude!” she retorts. “We’re in the middle of a conversation!”
“Which is why I said ‘excuse us,’” I say, trying not to talk between my teeth and glaring at my wife, my fragile temper hanging on by the finest of threads. In three seconds, I feel her resistance fall and she follows me as I try not to drag her back to the area near the rear stairwell. She’s almost panting, trying to keep up with me and once we are well tucked away in a corner, I pin her tight against the wall. My resolve is slipping fast and several conversations are going on in my head. The loudest one causes me to pin her arms above her head before she has a chance to fight, hold her face and plant a deep, bruising, possessive kiss on her mouth.
You are mine, goddammit!
After a short bit of resistance, her body melts and she submits to my kiss. I explore her mouth shamelessly, tasting her hunger, her uncertainty, and her fear. That last one made me stop. I owe her an explanation.
“We are not. Going to have a repeat. Of last New Year’s Eve!” I say, holding her chin in my hand. “Whatever bug you’ve got up your butt because I called you ‘Mistress,’ get rid of it. I won’t have you shunning me all night like you did last year. Are we clear?” I feel defensive… and dominant at the same time. She made me feel like shit last year because that conniving bitch Elena cornered me in the goddamn bathroom. I didn’t do anything this time and she’s going to get that shit together or I’ll make all these people go home and fuck her into next year—literally!
Shocked blue eyes stare back at me as I have her hands pinned over her head and I know immediately that the tables have turned… she won’t move unless I tell her to. I move my hand from her chin and it joins the other, pinning her wrists above her head. With my tongue, I outline those delicious, pouty lips before licking the top one and biting the bottom one. She gasps and her breathing changes. I feel her hot breath on my lips—short puffs, attempting to control herself.
I don’t want you to control yourself. I control this moment!
I feel the Neanderthal rising in me and I fight to keep him on a leash. I’m feeling feral and angry, but not. She drives me crazy!
I slowly slide my hands down her arms, never breaking eye-contact and like a good little submissive, she doesn’t move them from over her head. When I reach her breasts, I run my thumbs across her nipples and they pebble instantly through the thin material of her shirt. She’s panting now and I gently kiss his lips once more. I don’t relent with the tender massage and after a minute or so, her breath is heavy and uneven.
Yes! You belong to me! Don’t forget it!
I move one hand down to her plump, round ass and massage, enjoying the feeling of the meat in my hands. God, I love her ass. I want to fuck her right here!
But, I won’t.
I bring my other hand down to her ass and lift her off the ground so that she’s at eye-level with me. Her breath catches in her throat, but she still doesn’t move her arms.
“Wrap your legs around me,” I whisper. She wraps her legs around my waist and even this pregnant, I feel the warmth of her core against my swiftly rising erection.
I won’t fuck her here.
I won’t fuck her here.
I won’t fuck her here.
Holding her pelvis against me and still gripping her ass, I grind into her and she ignites immediately. She was already on the rise when I was playing with her nipples, and now her eye color changes slightly. I bruise her lips with a deep kiss as I grind into her through our clothes. She moans into my mouth, spurning me on. Fuck she feels good!
When I pull back from her, she’s wanton, hungry, rising into ecstasy, and I have to fight to control the animal inside.
“Put your arms around me!” I growl, and her arms wrap around my neck. I feel her body starting to tremble and her legs tighten around my waist.
“You. Belong. To me!” I say with each grind. She whimpers as the last grind is circular and deep, to pull out the orgasm I know is hiding there. She closes her eyes and her head falls back on the wall.
“Yes… yes, Sir,” she breathes.
“Open your eyes!” I command, and her eyes shoot to mine. I knew it… she’s right there… right there.
“Kiss me,” I breathe against her lips, and her mouth meets mine—gently at first, then tasting my mouth and tongue. When her head starts to roll, so does my hips. She whimpers in my mouth and shivers in my hands until…
Her hands thrust into my hair as her body stiffens and jerks at the same time. That’s it, Baby. Give it to me. I grind into her until her orgasm wanes and she’s panting into my mouth. This is what New Year’s Eve will be, not that shit from last year. I kiss her gently over her face and on her lips as she catches her breath. When she’s a bit composed…
“I’m going to put you down now,” I say. She nods, her eyes closed. I set her gently on the floor. I put my hand under her chin and lift her eyes to mine.
“Whenever I look at you tonight, I want you to remember this. I want you to remember that I didn’t come and I want you to think about my dick—hard and throbbing in my pants and waiting for you. I will have you tonight, but not here.” I take her hand from around my neck and press it against my aching dick. Her lips part and I imagine my cock sliding between them and against her tongue.
“Remember this!” I command, rubbing her hand against my erection. “Hard and anxious and waiting for you!”
“Yes, Sir!” she whispers, shamelessly wanton all over again. I take her in a deep kiss once more and when our lips part, I’m the one breathless and horny. I still her hand and slowly back away from her. She’s like a cat standing against the wall, ready to climb me and fuck me with complete abandon. It’s written all over her face.
“Are you wet?” I ask, already knowing the answer. She nods. “Good. Every time I look at you…” She nods again. I back further away from her and escape up the back stairs to talk down this maddening boner.
Holy. Cow. Batman.
I am at a total loss for words.
He makes me so mad sometimes. How dare he blurt that out in front of company that way! Granted, I know that James and Al dabble in the lifestyle, but I still don’t feel comfortable having it flaunted like cocktail conversation that way. I didn’t even know how to react when he called me Mistress in front of them. I seem to recall him doing that once before, but I can’t remember…
Oh yeah, the Pedo-Bitch.
I have to admit that I glad that I don’t remember much about her, except that she raped my husband then tried to kill him, wounding Jason instead. That was a terrifying day—the flash from the gun, then seeing my love and Jason go down at the same time. Then I remember singing some nursery rhyme. Was it “Row Row Row Your Boat?” I don’t remember. Then there was blood…
All that blood…
I shake the thought from my head and continue my conversation with Phil about Mindy’s sleeping habits when Christian appears out of nowhere and yanks me from the conversation, excusing us through his teeth. What the hell is eating him now?
I’m nearly running behind him as he drags me to the same spot I occupied earlier that evening near the back stairwell and pins me against the wall with a rough, possessive kiss.
What the hell? The fuck if I’m going to deal with the Neanderthal shit tonight! I squirm between him and the wall, barely able to move, but trying to wiggle from his grasp…
… But there’s something different in his kiss, like he’s trying to speak to me and I have to listen. My body surrenders before my mind does and the Bitch still wants to fight, wants him to get off of me, let my hands go, and tell me what this is all about! Yet, that part of me that connects directly with that part of him responds louder to his siren call than the Bitch can protest and suddenly, I want him—badly! But I’m also confused and full of trepidation.
“We are not. Going to have a repeat. Of last New Year’s Eve!” What happened last New Year’s Eve? “Whatever bug you’ve got up your butt because I called you ‘Mistress,’ get rid of it. I won’t have you shunning me all night like you did last year. Are we clear?”
I shunned him?? Why did I shun him? Pictures quickly flash through my mind and I remember Brian and Daddy’s wedding. There was some kind of disagreement, I know that, but it’s not coming fast enough. I’m frozen to the wall, unable to sort these thoughts as quickly as they’re coming to me, but unable to move either. He’s very unhappy about whatever I can’t piece together right now that happened last year. There is absolutely no mistaking that Sir is not pleased!
What did I do to him?
He grasps my wrists and teases me with his tongue before his hands move to my breasts and torment my nipples, shooting fire straight to my core. I see him battling with himself, but I feel him rising against me as his hands wander over my body.
Fuck, I’m hot.
Before I know it, he lifts me by my ass and grinds his erection into my core through our clothes. Oh, God, I gasp inwardly, my arms still above my head against the wall.
“Wrap your legs around me!” he commands me quietly. I comply and before long, he is grinding me and kissing me to a feverish orgasm. We didn’t even expose ourselves! He’s the only man that’s ever made me come that way—and so hard! Then again, there was only him and David. David was good, I admit, but nowhere near as good as Christian.
He kisses me tenderly as I descend from Euphoria and leaves me in a rubber-kneed tangled mess as he commands me to remember that he’s hard and throbbing for me and that he intends to rectify that situation later. When he escapes up the back stairs, I’m left standing there, flushed and post orgasmic and having to rejoin my guests back in the main entertainment area. Good Lord, how am I going to pull this off?
I try to compose myself for a few minutes before I rejoin my guests. Leave it to Mr. Forsythe to notice my long absence and zero right in on my current state of afterglow.
“Must you fuck at every party?” he chides quietly.
“What?” I reply, feigning ignorance. He twists his lips.
“Oh, please!” he scolds. “You’re flushed and he’s missing. You fucked.” I laugh quietly at my best friend. There’s no getting anything past him. I don’t even know why I try.
“We didn’t fuck, Al,” I correct him—not in the traditional sense anyway. He narrows his eyes at me.
“Well, he made you come,” he says, matter-of-factly. “It’s written all over your face. Don’t bother trying to deny it.” I don’t deny it. I’m walking around in wet underwear as a reminder of what’s waiting for me later. “That’s the only thing I envy about you bitches—that fucking clit. A good, stiff wind will have you jerking in ecstasy.”
“Al!” I exclaim in not-so-mock horror. “Must you be so crass?” I scold. He folds his arms.
“Don’t be coy with me, heifer. It’s not like James and I can go rub one out and join the party like nothing happened. And don’t give me that false modest shit, either. I don’t feel one bit of remorse. I’m hateful right now because you got to come and I’m sitting here watching Chocolate Deliciousness parade around the room in front of me while I’m all hot and bothered!” My eyes grow large and my mouth falls open as neither of us realize that we’re not alone.
“Did I just hear you say you’re all hot and bothered?” A caramel voice wafts through the air and lands between us, forcing Al into a dead silence as he turns slightly to greet the inquisitive face of his fiancé.
“I… uh…” Well, this is a first. Allen Forsythe stunned into stuttering. Someone call 911!
“Don’t worry, Baby,” James says, quietly, though not quietly enough. “I’ll fuck and suck you tonight until you can’t see straight.” Now, Al’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open while I gulp and shut mine quickly, composing myself and having to pretend like I didn’t hear what James said to him. He kisses Al gently on the lips and, after throwing me a coy smile and a wink, walks off to the bar to join Phil and Ethan. He and Mia must have arrived while I was “rubbing one out” with my husband. I turn a knowing eye back to one candy-apple-red-faced Allen Forsythe, who is shamelessly ogling his man’s ass as he walks away before he realizes that he’s not alone in the room.
“Oh, shut up!” he shoots, attempting to regain his composure. I giggle gleefully.
“I didn’t say a word,” I say, hooking my arm in his. “C’mon, you can buy me a drink…”
“I really don’t know how you do it, Ana,” Mia says while snuggling comfortably in Ethan’s lap. “No offense, because I can’t wait to see my niece and nephew, but you look like you’re gonna blow any second now.”
“I feel like it, too,” I lament, not bothering with the phony sensitivity about my size. I’m big as a house and I dare not step on a scale of any kind. Christian may love the curves, but I can’t wait to drop this load. I still have six whole weeks until my due date and I’m half ready for Dr. Culley to just reach up in there and pull these guys out, for crying out loud.
“How are your ankles?” Maxie asks with a smirk.
“Like water balloons,” I reply. “I know that the time is coming soon enough, but what I wouldn’t give for a glass of wine right now.” She laughs a knowing laugh.
“Yeah, I remember that,” she sympathizes. “It’s going to seem like forever, but trust me, it’s not. Try not to concentrate on it every moment of every day. I know that seems impossible, but if you do, you’re going to drive yourself nuts. Concentrate on your work and be sure to do more of the things that you love to do as often as you can… as your body allows.”
“I was about to say that I love to dance…” I begin.
“Then dance!” Maxine exclaims. “I’m not telling you to do backflips and pirouettes, but dance. Do the pre-baby yoga. The exercising will actually help when labor comes.” I sigh.
“I can barely move, Maxie.” She smiles.
“I know. So just do what you can,” she says. I shrug.
“Christian is supposed to be taking me on a babymoon,” I announce, somewhat changing the subject.
“What’s a babymoon?” Ethan asks.
“It’s a vacation of sorts,” Christian begins, “geared towards expecting mothers to help her decompress a bit before the babies are born.”
“Now, why didn’t I think of something like that?” Maxine says. “Although the massages and girls’ day on your birthday weekend were just what the doctor ordered!”
The room suddenly gets quiet as everyone must be having the same thought… Val.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a Debbie Downer,” Maxie apologizes. I wave her off.
“Don’t be,” I respond. “I was thinking about it earlier myself.” Christian pulls me closer to him on the sofa and slides his fingers between mine, holding me protectively. I guess he’s afraid I’m going to break down again. I hope I don’t.
“It’s just not right,” Gary adds. “It’s not right that she’s not here. We’ve never been like this. I look at you two as my sisters—closer than my blood sisters. You helped this geeky kid fit in and made me feel loved almost from the day we met. And now… it’s just not right. I can’t understand… I can’t even comprehend how we’re not all sitting here chewing the fat right now.”
“I wish I knew,” I tell him. “Believe me, I’d fix it in a heartbeat if I could. Make no mistake, she’s horrible to me. I seem to turn on her bitch button every time she sees me, but I miss her like you wouldn’t believe—so much that my heart hurts sometimes.”
“No, her bitch button is on all the time, Jewel. It’s not just you, remember?”
“She only turned on you because you’re an extension of me. You have the gumption to give back to her exactly what you get. I just don’t have the strength. It’s a battle that I can’t fight because I don’t know why I’m fighting it. I don’t know why my friend hates me in the first place.”
“Well, Al’s right, it’s not just you,” Mia chimes in. “She has two words to say to me when she sees me and she’s pretty frosty towards Mom, which is why she doesn’t come to any family functions. Dad won’t even acknowledge her. It’s like Katherine Kavanaugh all over again.”
“I was afraid of that,” Christian sighs. I look over my shoulder at Christian and he’s just shaking his head.
“I don’t know what to say, you guys,” I say, trying to apologize for Val’s behavior. “Something is really very wrong because she’s never, ever been like this.”
“I can attest to that,” Maxine says. “I can’t begin to tell you what’s happening in her life, but this is a Valerie Marshall that I’ve never seen and I’ve known her for years.”
“I just don’t get it,” Gary continues. “The Val I knew would give up a kidney for you. What the hell has gotten into her?” I shake my head.
“I have no clue, but I have to say that I’m glad this whole thing isn’t just my imagination.”
“It’s not,” Maxie says, “but I’ll bet dollars to donuts that whatever’s going on with her was going on way before that outburst at your birthday party. I mean my wedding wasn’t at a castle with a classic car, but it wasn’t too damn shabby, either. That comment that she made about the big wedding, it wasn’t taken out of context because I felt the same way that you did when she said it.”
“Remind me again what she said,” Christian probes. Oh, geez, must we?
“Well, first, she kept saying things that she had to follow up with ‘no offense, Ana.’ Then she made this crack about a big wedding being just for show for everyone else. When we called her on it, she got really defensive—but mostly towards Ana, not towards me. The real stick of dynamite came when Ana refused to give her details about some falling out that you guys had and right there in front of Grace, God, and everybody, she asks Ana if she cheated on you.”
“Ooooh,” I lament as I recall this conversation in its full and ugly detail, and the soccer players literally do a flip flop in my stomach.
“Okay, well, that’s enough of that,” Christian says, noting my obvious discomfort. “For some reason unknown to anyone, Valerie Marshall has clearly lost her marbles and we are going to leave her in La-La-Land until and if she finds them. Now, I hereby declare that it is one hour to midnight and although we have eaten some delicious food and have settled into satisfied comfort, there is not nearly enough music or dancing going on for this to be a party and I see little to know ‘libations’ floating around this soiree. So how about we really get this party started? Allen? James? Have you two set a date, yet?” He’s up and on his way to the bar and just like that, the conversation is diverted and the party takes on a more jovial atmosphere.
I take Maxie’s advice and dance as much as my belly will allow. She right that I couldn’t do all my moves, but it was so much easier to just let go and feel the music than I thought! My husband has zeroed in on my musical tastes over the last couple of years and kept the Motown and jazz going on a playlist that he had loaded into the sound system. Little Mindy awoke at about 15 minutes to the new year, much to Maxie and Phil’s delight as they wanted to bring the year in with their entire family. Marilyn is hopelessly attached to Gary with that whole starry-eyed girly thing going on and I think it’s adorable. I don’t think she’s been this smitten since I’ve known her. Mia has spent the entire night in Ethan’s lap and Gail and Jason along with Chuck and Keri have mostly just been cuddled up with each other and watching our interactions and conversations about the infamous Valerie and wedding dates and birthing plans and what have you. There’s no mistaking that love is in the air at Grey Crossing.
Just before midnight, we all don our warm coats and scarves and head out to the pool area to see the fireworks at midnight. We’re a bit far from the Space Needle, so we can only see those in the distance, but this year, as luck would have it, there will be fireworks on the lake on a vessel just behind our house. Christian holds me very close to him as we approach midnight, and I bask in his warmth. The patio and pool have been cleared of snow and our party all stand in anticipation as the clock finally gets to those last ten seconds before the new year arrives. The countdown begins and Christian pulls me still closer to him, my back to his front, and just before the stroke of midnight, he leans over my shoulder, turns my head to him, and plants a delicious kiss on my lips.
I’m swept away and can just vaguely make out our companions celebrating the arrival of the new year. I can hear the blast of the fireworks and see the flashes through my closed eyelids. The effect is so overwhelming that I don’t know if it’s the fireworks or the kiss that has me seeing stars. When he pulls away from me, his beautiful gray eyes are a mixture of sadness and relief.
“Happy New Year, Mrs. Grey,” he says softly, gazing into my eyes. And suddenly, I remember…
Pedo-Kiss! That’s what he was talking about. Her red lipstick all over his face and the horrible way that I treated him afterwards. It hit me like a freight train. Brian making him feel like shit in his own home and me doing the same…
I spin around in his arms, tangle my fingers in his hair, and pull his face down to me. Taking his lips with mine, I kiss him with fever and passion, bruising and burning, our tongues tangling until he moans into my mouth, pressing me against him until I feel his erection. He’s breathless when our lips part.
“Happy New Year, Mr. Grey,” I whisper, my eyes still closed and my lips brushing his.
“My God, Ana…” he breathes, before searing my lips with another kiss. My arms slide around his neck and his hands slide up my back as we shamelessly devour each other’s lips yet again.
“We have guests,” I whisper when our lips part momentarily.
“Then they should be kissing,” he replies, closing his lips over mine once more.
I’m drinking my sparkling grape juice and snuggling in Christian’s arms. It’s about 1:30am and I’m fighting the urge to give in to the Sandman. No one is yet ready to admit defeat to sleep, but I am quickly losing the battle. I think I actually did fall asleep, because I’m startled out of comfort by a sudden change in Christian’s demeanor. I open my eyes to a sight I swear I didn’t think I’d see tonight.
Elliot. Just standing there looking at us.
“Hey,” he says a bit sheepishly.
“Hey,” Christian responds. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Just wanted to see my brother.”
“Valerie?” Christian probes. Elliot shrugs.
“She’s alright. Asleep. I didn’t want to… you know…” he trails off.
“Sure, man,” Christian says, shifting me to the sofa and standing up. “Do you need to talk?”
“Not really,” Elliot replies. “I just wanted to hang out… if that’s okay.”
“Of course, it’s okay,” Christian says, grasping Elliot firmly on the shoulder. “Baby?” he says, turning to me.
“Absolutely,” I say, without hesitation. “I would get up, but it’ll be dawn by the time I get out of this seat,” I jest.
“That’s okay,” he says, leaning down and kissing me on the cheek. “Hey, Ana Montana.”
“Hey, Elliot,” I reply with a smile. “There’s still food if you’re hungry and plenty to drink.”
“Anything non-alcoholic?” he asks. Boy, he’s really sticking to that teetotaler thing.
“Of course. Pregnant woman on the premises.” I direct him to the bar and the various fruit juices, soft drinks, and non-alcoholic champagnes.
Elliot falls right into the party and I’m glad to discover that there was no fight or falling out between him and Valerie—just because I didn’t want him to be in a sour mood. He just wanted to see his family and waited until Valerie was asleep to do it. At one point, he, Mia, and Christian fall into a bit of a hushed conversation, and I watch as the siblings appear to be discussing something of great importance. It makes me miss Val again—my only sister—but not too much…
I awake in his arms as he steps off the elevator. His chest is solid and warm and I’m floating in the custody of my protector. I don’t want to move because I’m so comfortable. He gently lays me on the bed and I gaze back at him with hooded, sleepy eyes. I can barely make out his face in the dark, but it’s as clear as if the morning sun were shining into our bedroom.
He wants me.
I’m suddenly wide awake and my panties are just as wet as they were when he left me at the bottom of the rear stairwell last night. My lips part to get more air into my lungs as the look he’s giving me could burn down the rainforests!
“Sit up,” he says softly. I comply, struggling into a sitting position. He stands over me in the dark, looking at me like a starving man. He sits on the bed next to me, takes my face in his hands, and outlines my gaping lips with his tongue. I’m frozen in my arousal, my eyes closed and my breath coming in short.
Oh, God, Christian…
My body is aflame as his mouth closes over my lips and his tongue tangles with mine. I want him… I need him. Now!
I feel forlorn when his lips leave mine and he rises from the bed. He disappears into his bathroom and I close my eyes and breathe, reeling from the passion he just dumped on me and sitting—once again—in a puddle of my own arousal. I try to take in oxygen to calm down, but it’s not working. When I open my eyes again, he’s standing at the foot of the bed… watching me. Even in the dark, I can see him clearly standing there with only the bottom two buttons of his shirt done and his chest exposed. I swear he looks like Mr. Darcy.
And I’m panting again.
He comes to the side of the bed and grasps my pants and underwear. I lift my hips and he removes them both in one move. Back at the foot of the bed again, he just stands there gazing at me. Although I’m still wearing my shirt and bra, I feel naked in front of him. Naked and horny. Crawling up the bed like a panther, he plants soft, wet kisses on my skin starting at my feet and moving up my calves to my inner thigh. There’s no use in trying to control my breathing anymore, because this man has me gasping for air.
“Lie down, Baby,” he instructs, still tormenting the tender meat of my inner thigh. “Breathe…”
I lay back and try to breathe, but it’s no use. What breath I have left is snatched from my body when he runs his tongue the length of my vagina from core to pelvis.
“Aaaaaahhhhh,” I breathe. The pleasure is almost unbearable. Then he does it again. He’s tasting me… one long stroke from bottom to top and I nearly squirm out of his grasp. With his arms under my thighs, he reaches up and grasps both of my hands firmly, entwining his fingers in mine. I’m trapped and can’t get away.
“Noooooooo,” I whine helplessly.
“Sssshhh,” he soothes, before returning to his task. He tastes me twice more before his tongue begins to circle my clit, gently and torturously… once, twice, three times. He’s savoring my flavor, spreading it over his entire tongue. It’s so good and my entire body feels the unbelievable pleasure.
His saliva coats my lips and he gently nips the left one, giving my clit a rest but sending chills through me nonetheless.
Plus! S’il vous plaît ne vous arrêtez pas…
His tongue is moving again, inside my lips and around the opening of my core where he tastes the juices there, mingling them with his saliva and using the combination to anoint my anxious clit. I’m immobilized in rapture—the steady sensual massage, around and around; constant strokes first gently, then deep and burning, keeping me on the edge, but yearning for that imminent orgasm that promises to tear me apart. He suckles my clit causing me to rise a bit with each pass, then blows to ease the burning. The torture is delectable and I almost hate to admit that I’m loving this rise then delayed gratification. It makes the journey incredible and the destination that much sweeter.
There was no need to admit anything. He reads my body like a book.
He sucks ever so gently on that small bundle of nerves, following it with a gentle burst of warm yet cool air to cease the stimulation. He does this a few times until I’m mindless with anticipation.
Orgasm? No. Orgasm? No. Orgasm? No.
“Pleeease…” I groan mournfully.
“Ssshhh,” he soothes again as he makes a meal of tormenting me. He sucks me into his mouth and teases me several more times until we both know that I’ve reached the point of no return. He releases my hands and clasps his hands over my hips. His mouth descends on my core, licking and sucking relentlessly. My hands thrust into his hair and my hips thrusts forward repeatedly, seeking and receiving the pleasure that he is bestowing upon me. As I burst into flames, he groans into my pussy, hungrily lapping away at my juices while I surf his tongue and ride to blinding Nirvana.
He moves like lightning and in seconds, he’s naked behind me, kissing me wherever his lips can reach and cupping my breasts firmly. He’s primitive in his passion. As he masterfully undoes the buttons on my shirt from behind, I can smell my juices on his breath and it makes me hot all over again. I reach behind me and rub his erection and he groans deeply as he finally gets my shirt open and thrusts his hands under my bra. I gasp when he pinches my nipples and kisses my shoulder. His erection hardens further still in my hand and I want nothing more than to have him inside of me.
He groans in his throat as he pushes his hardening shaft against my hand, pinching my nipples harder until they pebble between his fingers.
Please… take me…
Removing his hands from my hungry, eager nipples, he pulls my shirt from my shoulders and makes very quick work of the clasps of my bar. His cock still thrums in my hand when he cups my breasts again.
“They’re so firm and beautiful,” he says, massaging my mounds while he nips at the skin on my neck and back, driving me absolutely wild. I wrap my hand around his dick and squeeze and pull firmly. Enough of this! I want you now!
“Ah!” he gasps almost silently. He wasn’t expecting that. “Impatient?” he pants.
“Yes!” I breathe, frustrated and expecting, still pulling his penis so that my palm strokes the head and my fingertips bruise his frenulum with each pass. He hisses and moves my hand away from his erection. He quickly throws my leg over his hip and holds my thigh firmly while his dick thumps the outside of my now burning vaginal lips.
“Put it where you want it, baby,” he growls into my neck.
Fuck! That is so fucking hot!
I reach down and feel his erection between my legs. I stroke is gently with my fingers once or twice.
“For the love of God, Anastasia…” he moans in my ear while squeezing the tender meat of my thigh. Okay, I’ve repaid you for your torment. Stroking him once more with my hand, I guide the head of his rod to my core and push him inside. It still takes a moment for me to acclimate to him. He hisses again and groans deeply as I slowly push myself back and down onto him. He moans a long, deep lament once I have taken all of him, moves his hand from my thigh to my hip and stills me. I sigh and moan in frustration.
“Please…” he begs, “just let me feel you like this. You feel so good; I don’t want to come yet.”
I try to keep still. I really try, but my body yearns for him… and he’s inside of me. My muscles tighten involuntarily, beckoning him to move.
“Baby, please…” he pleads, fighting for control.
“This is what you do to me,” I confess, helpless, unable to control my body’s response to him. “I can’t stop it.”
“Ugh,” he groans. “Oh, God, baby…” At that point, I remember our experience in Anguilla. Neither of us moved, but the orgasm that followed was intense! My core tightens again at the delicious memory.
“You’re doing that,” he groans mournfully. “Stop it…”
“I’m not, I swear,” I reply, but I’m no longer willing to wait. “But I am doing this,” I breathe, and push my hips back into his.
“Aaaaaahhh!” he groans, trying to still my hips again. “Baby, please,” he chokes as he hardens inside of me.
“No,” I pant, pushing against him and pulling away, stroking while my muscles wrap firmly around his cock. “I want you. I want this… now!”
“Baby!” he grunts as I feel him begin to tremble. Fuck, I love it! I love this feeling. I know he’s going to come soon, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop. I roll my hips, push and pull, push and pull, push and pull…
“Baby…!” he almost shouts, grasping my hip with one hand and my breast with the other. “Baby… fuck… no…”
“Yes!” I demand as I push back hard against him, swirl my hips, and pull again… and again… and again. He’s panting, fighting a losing battle, his rod getting stiffer and stiffer inside me until…
“Ba-by fuuuckkkk!” he groans, pushing himself hard into me. I reach between my legs and grab his balls, now tight and hard like one large walnut, and massage deeply—my finger pressing hard on the muscle at the base that pushing his semen though his dick and into me.
“Mmmmmmmmm!” his moan is deep and tortured as he grabs my arm and squeezes, trying to ground himself. His leg slides between mine, pinning one down, but angling us both so that he can push further into me.
Is he trying to still my hand? I don’t know, but it is of no use. As he pushes into me, his balls only grind harder against my hand as I feel them dancing and pumping with his orgasm.
“God… my God,” he whispers as he continues to grind into me, deep hard grinds that only make me hornier while he’s riding out his climax. When it’s finally done, he’s breathless, lying partially on my back and panting wildly. Again, I try to stay still, but my sex won’t be denied… and after a few minutes, she throbs and squeezes again.
“Aah!” he grunts, and moves his hand from my arm to my hip again. My hand is still on his balls as he pulls my legs open once more. My clit is hungry and now exposed to the air, but my hands feel his balls—not quite empty it seems, but significantly lighter. His dick pulses ever so slightly under my palm and I can’t help but run my fingers from his balls to the base, down the shaft to where he is still inside me—thrumming and responding to my tightening muscles, my hungry sex having swallowed his offering completely and greedily demanding more.
I can’t help it. I stroke my fingers from his hardening cock past my opening to my throbbing clit. I can’t suppress the moan that escapes or the tremble in my thighs. I want to come. I want him to fuck me and make me come.
“Do it again,” he whispers roughly in my ear. I thought my little self-play had gotten past him, but it hadn’t. I don’t hesitate. I reach for his balls again and feel his shaft disappearing into me. He pulls out slightly, and I gather a bit of our mixed arousal and circle my clit just as he pushes deliciously into me again.
“Aahh,” I moan, pushing my head back into his chest.
“Again!” he commands sensually, his voice now controlled since his orgasm. We do it again, our movements synchronized and pushing me further to that anticipated explosion.
“Christian!” I breathe as he stills, his dick filling me as my walls tighten and release involuntarily around him.
“Again!” he breathes into my ear, feasting on my neck and ears while waiting for me to comply. Fuck, his control is maddening! And hot! I stroke once more, and the combined feeling of my fingers and his delicious cock stroking inside of me almost sends me over the edge. I cry out.
“That’s enough,” he says as he moves my hand from my sex to the bed. With his hand on my hip, he grinds hard against me, pushing in as far as he can go and wiggling just a bit to hit every wall. In and out, he torments me several times, delicious! So fucking delicious! Fuck, my whole body trembles with the possession and I almost lose my fucking mind!
“Fuck…” he says as he begins again, stroking deeply into me and gently sinking his teeth into the flesh of my back as he possessively cups my breast and holds me against him.
“Ah!” I gasp as the feeling on his teeth grazing my skin and the many sensations taking over my body right now.
“You are exquisite,” he breathes as he loves me. “Fucking exquisite…”
“Christian… please…” I whisper as that familiar feeling starts in my feet and begins to creep up my legs.
“Yes, Baby,” he breathes, slipping my nipple between two of his fingers while still cupping my breast. “Feel it, Baby.”
That debilitating feeling of pleasure seizes my thighs and I know it won’t be long now. He pulls out of me to the head, then pushes only partly into me. He meticulously continues his stroke, up and into me from behind then down and out—not his full length, yet; just about half of his erection so that I can feel the friction on my lips, the inner walls of my vagina, and right behind my clit. This is the perfect position for him to hit the spot—that spot that drives me utterly insane. He continues the maddening rhythm for several minutes, teasing me relentlessly and deliciously with the promise of an explosive release… but just a promise.
“Christian…” I whine, helpless and wanton, completely at his mercy.
“Yes, Baby,” he whispers directly in my ear, his own orgasm hiding in his voice. His hand slides possessively around my neck and chin, turning my head to him as he peppers my skin with gentle kisses and nips beginning at my shoulder and ending where a dusting of hair only just covers my scar. The gesture sends a maddening sensation through me and I can’t stop the inevitable.
“Christian!” I wheeze, barely able to recognize my own voice.
“Yes, Baby,” he groans, cupping the meat at the top of my sex and grazing his long finger over my clit only twice. As my climax begins, he presses down with his palm and strokes his full length into me—slowly, deeply, repeatedly. I’m completely undone. My entire body convulses in deep pleasure and I grasp handfuls of the sheet in front of me, once again trying not to float away in this orgasmic euphoria. When he sucks my earlobe into his mouth, the sensation begins anew and I cry out. It’s too much for both of us.
“Yes, Baby! Oh, yes, Baby!” he groans as his stroke becomes slightly deeper, slightly harder and I explode into a second orgasm before the first one subsides. I’m groaning loudly in my throat, blind and delirious from ecstasy, when Christian rolls me almost over on top of him—one arm across my body so that his hand is grasping the opposite shoulder and the other hand still firmly cupping my sex and pushing me down onto him with each stroke. My God, it’s searing and delicious!!!
As I’m shaking, convulsing, and thrumming from the crazy aftershocks of this wild explosion, he’s grunting primally in my ear. Each stroke is long and deep and his sensuous moans sound almost painful to him until he finally stills, and I feel him throbbing and emptying inside of me as a mournful groan escapes his chest. With his face buried in my hair, both hands still holding me in position, he pants, jerks, and shivers through his own aftershocks.
Plus! S’il vous plaît ne vous arrêtez pas…
More! Please Don’t Stop
Couldn’t have 2014 ring in like 2013 did. In the rephrased sentiments of one Christian Grey, “There’ll be none of that shit!”
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Love and handcuffs 🙂