I don’t want to name names, but I have a reader/friend whose mom just started chemo. From personal experience with chemo with my mom, believe me… it’s no joke. She and her mom will need all the strength and prayers that we can send out to her. I know it’s strange asking for prayers for a nameless person, but it’s her story to tell so… Just please send up some prayers and positive thoughts for “BG’s friend’s mom who just started chemotherapy.”
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 5—Greys’ Night Out
Neither Elliot nor I can keep our hands off or our lips off our wives on our way to dinner. I can’t speak for Val, but my wife is simply irresistible! She smells good, she tastes good, she feels good and I just want to be right in her personal space all damn night. She won’t be able to breathe without me right up under her, near her, in her. Damn, this is getting to be too much.
“Can we just skip dinner?” I jest, tasting entire mouthfuls of the skin on her neck while she nurses her second glass of champagne.
“Christian Grey!” she teases. “I want my night on the town.” I smile before delving into her skin again.
“What my lady wants, my lady gets,” I breathe into her neck, but I plan to make it as hard for her to resist me as it is for me to resist her. I gently run my tongue up the length of her neck before nipping her earlobe, moaning breathy sex sounds in her ear.
“Christian… please…” she protests as I feast on her ear. I feel the gooseflesh rising on her arms and watch as she conspicuously crosses her legs. That’s it. Now, you’re just about as hot and bothered as I am. At least you don’t have to fight off a public boner.
We arrive at our dinner destination, Art of the Table, and Elliot and Val exit the limo before us. I look over at my clearly flustered wife and smile knowingly.
“Are you ready?” I ask, my tone purposely suggestive. She takes a deep breath and releases it.
“Yes,” she breathes. I exit the limo first, then reach in for her hand to help her step out. I ask the limousine driver to find somewhere else to park until I call for him so as not to draw attention to the restaurant. I turn to my beautiful wife, put my hand in the small of her back, and lead her into the restaurant.
Despite Art of the Table being a staple of the area for the past several years, I had neither been here nor even heard of it before today. I took a chance on the location when Mia suggested it after I asked for good food with a high-end atmosphere, but more on the normal side than Canlis. The restaurant looks quaint on the outside, with small square tables and wooden chairs, but every angle of the room almost like a private little corner. It’s quite homey and well suited to our needs.
“Nice choice, Bro,” Elliot says, holding his wife’s hand. I nod.
“I hear the food is excellent, and I wanted someplace that would throw the paparazzi off our trail. This was a Mia suggestion, so we’ll see how that goes.”
We get a quiet table for four in the corner, but honestly, nearly every table in the joint seems like a quiet table in the corner. We sit next to our wives instead of across from them, considering that we both would probably have preferred to have them in our laps at that moment. I occasionally steal a glance or two at my brother and notice how he cups Valerie’s cheek and kisses her softly but passionately. The love that I see reflected for her in his eyes, I’ve never seen before from him to another human being. It was only a matter of time before he would have made her his wife—tumor or not. I can’t help but recognize that the near-death and imminent death experiences that we’ve been facing have a way of making you zero in on what’s important and how short life really is. Elliot and I were just talking about Pops and how we’re all not-so-anxiously waiting for his transition.
One day, Pops is not going to be here. That fucking sucks.
I inadvertently squeeze my wife’s hand, thinking about how precious and short life can be. Elliot nearly lost the love of his life a few months ago and I nearly lost the love of mine late last year.
“Are you okay?” Butterfly says, only softly enough for me to hear her. I close my eyes and press my forehead against hers, clasping her hand tightly while my free hand cups the nape of her neck, pulling her to me.
“Do you know how much I love you?” I breathe, feeling my chest constrict a bit at the thought of her not being here with me. “How much I can’t live without you?”
“Yes!” she gasps, almost immediately, her hand pressing against my chest while fisting my lapels. I brush my lips against her cheek, then her temple.
“You’re my life, Anastasia,” I whisper, almost unable to breathe. “I’m so lucky I have you. I don’t know what I’d do without you…”
“You’ll never have to find out,” she breathes, moving her hand to my cheek and pulling back to look into my eyes. “You’ll never have to find out.”
I gaze into her eyes for several moments, wanting to her to know and feel how much I love her, how I know that I’m a fucking lucky bastard that she loves me, too; how there’s nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do for her, nothing I wouldn’t give her, nothing she couldn’t ask of me… nothing!
“You’re my king, Christian,” she says softly, cupping my face in both her hands. “You’re the man of my dreams… dreams I didn’t even know that I had. You’re in every cell of me—my blood and my breath… I… don’t have the words…” She sounds like her breath is leaving her.
“I know, baby,” I say pushing my hands into her hair. “I know.” I close my lips over hers, not giving a damn about the other diners in the restaurant, and it would appear that they don’t give a damn about us, either.
Our meal consists of numerous gourmet-sized servings of just about every dish on the menu. Butterfly and I spend the evening licking delightful creations off each other’s fingers like Magret duck breast with caviar, marbled king salmon with bok choy kimchi, and seared Pleasant View Farms foie gras, to name a few. We kept ordering more and more dishes until the chef had to come out and see the table that was eating everything on the menu. He complimented our meal choices and commented that real chefs appreciate patrons with healthy appetites and an appreciation for food. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that although everything he prepared was delicious, he could have set plain porridge in front of me and it would have been delectable when licked from my wife’s fingertips. It was even easy for us to forget that we had dinner companions, seeing that Elliot and Valerie were just as lost in each other as we were.
I think it may have to do with spending the last several weeks in your parents’ house in your old childhood bedroom, not able to really worship your wife like you want. That doesn’t say much for us that we’d gladly take them right here on the table save the threat of being arrested for indecent exposure.
I could barely wait to get my wife back into that posh limousine. I want to ravage her body right here and now, but I have to be satisfied with some R-rated groping on our way to a local nightclub. I wasn’t so sure about this locale—also suggested by Mia—but in the spirit of normalcy, we go anyway. I’d heard good and bad things about this place, but I decide to give it a chance.
It was all good…
Havana Social Club is semi-public/semi-exclusive, sporting pictures of all the former celebrities that have frequented the place in the past. There are tables to sit and have a drink and socialize as well as a bar—of course—and a dance floor. The four of us manage to secure seats at the bar since all the tables are taken. I’ve noticed that after two glasses of champagne in the limo and two glasses of wine at dinner, my wife is just a slight bit tipsy. Since she’s eaten and has been careful to hydrate herself at dinner, I see no harm in continuing the libations. Valerie is none too worse for wear either. So, our ladies each order a Cosmopolitan while planting themselves like tasty little morsels at the bar, causing their husbands to close in on them like lions guarding the pride.
“So,” I say, turning my attention to the enticing Anastasia Grey. I take a swallow of my beer, then set it on the bar. “Come here often?”
She turns a questioning gaze at me before raising her eyebrows. She takes a dainty sip of her drink before crossing her legs in my direction.
“No,” she replies. “This is my first time.”
“Mmm, your first time, huh?” I say suggestively. “First times can be sort of adventurous.”
“So I’m told,” she replies, dropping her head a bit and looking up at me through her lashes. I take another swallow of my beer and she takes a long sip of her drink.
“So, what’s your name?” I ask, keeping up our little charade.
“Ana,” she says, sweetly. “Yours?”
“My friends call me Chris,” I reply. Her eyebrow raises again and she smiles—a beautiful, toothy, pearly-white smile.
“Chris…” she says as if testing out the name. “I like that.”
Funny, but when she says it, I like it, too.
“So, Ana, what brings you here tonight?” I ask. I gesture to the bartender for another beer and another Cosmopolitan.
“Just getting out to let my hair down,” she says, bottoming out her drink.
“Really?” I ask. “Rough day?” She rolls her eyes and laughs.
“You have no idea,” she says, part serious, part mirthfully. When the bartender brings us another round, she swallows half of her drink immediately. That signals me that she needs this night out more than she let on.
“Well, I’m a good listener if you need to talk,” I say, bringing my hand closer to hers on the bar and gently caressing her finger with mine. Her eyes go to our touching hands before she looks up at me.
“Do you… normally pick up girls in bars?” she asks, her voice a little breathy.
“No,” I say, my voice seductive. “This is my first time.” She swallows hard.
“You’re good at it,” she breathes, then blinks as if to bring herself back from wherever she went. “I’m told… that first times can be sort of adventurous,” she adds, looking at our hands again.
“Let’s hope so,” I retort, softly. I hear her breath catch and watch her pupils dilate as she takes another sip of her drink. “So,” I continue, slightly closing the space between us, “have you ever gone home with a stranger?” She licks her lips and moves the hand that I was caressing, brushing her fingers demurely up her chest to her shoulder.
“Well, not usually… but there was this one time…” she trails off and shyly takes another drink.
“Mmm… tell me more,” I coax.
“Well, he… seemed nice,” she says, rimming her martini glass with her index finger. “Attractive, well-built, seductive, rich…”
“Wow,” I respond, “that’s quite the package. Hard to compete with that,” I say, mocking disappointment. “How’d that turn out?”
“We had sex,” she says almost immediately, flashing a hungry look at me.
“Oh… so… you put out on the first date,” I state. She shrugs, dipping her finger into her drink, then bringing it to her lips, sucking the alcohol off her finger… and my pants suddenly get tight.
“Not usually, but…” The finger slides out of her mouth and down between the open leather lacing of her dress. “… He was sort of… irresistible.” I raise my eyebrows.
“Really?” She nods, and leans in to me. “How so?”
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she purrs, scooting closer to me on her bar stool.
“And that was?” I nearly growl.
“He told me that he wanted me and he knew that I wanted him, too.” Her eyes suddenly look dreamy as she recites our first night together. “Then he asked if we were going to continue to pretend that wasn’t what was going on between us or if I would let him take me to bed and give my body what it so richly deserved.”
Did I say that? Shit, I’ve got some great lines!
“He did, did he?” I say. “Well, it’s kind of hard to top that, but I can tell you this.” I slide off the bar stool and close the distance between us, leaning down to her ear. “I want you so bad, we may not make it to bed. We may not even make it out of the car.”
She gasps as I bring my face back to look her in the eyes. We’re caught in a lustful gaze for several moments before and exuberant Valerie interrupts our exchange.
“C’mon, Steele! Let’s shake it up a little!” she says, grabbing my wife’s hand and dragging her to the dance floor. Butterfly squeals happily and joins her friend as Bruno Mars starts to sing “Uptown Funk.” Elliot moves to the bar stool next to mine and we sit leaning our elbows on the bar while watching our women dance. Butterfly looks carefree and happy like a college kid—not a care in the world. Her hips swing back and forth in that way that drives me crazy.
My God, do I love to watch that woman move.
“So,” some guy to my left decides to strike up a conversation, “you struck out with that one, huh?” I turn my attention to my brother for a moment, then back to the guy on the other side. “They might be a couple, you never know,” he adds, watching our wives dancing with each other. I must admit, they do look good together. I take a swallow of my beer while Elliot just smirks next to me.
“Don’t feel bad, buddy,” he says, giving my shoulder a pat. “The hot ones are almost always taken, gay, or not interested.” He swigs his beer like he knows what he’s talking about. I wonder how many women in this club have shot him down tonight alone. When I don’t respond, he keeps talking. “Mind if I give it a go? I mean, maybe you’re just not her type.”
“Yeah, I think I would mind if you gave it a go,” I say, calmly. His brow furrows.
“Why?” he asks. “I mean, no harm if I give it a shot since you couldn’t seal the deal, huh?” he shrugs. I take another drink of my beer, and put the bottle on the bar.
“Well, it’s like you said, the hot ones are almost always taken, gay, or not interested. You just happen to be right about them.” I raise my hand and show him my art-deco wedding band. Realization dawns on his face as his eyes shoot past me to Elliot. I catch him out of my peripheral flashing the ring on his finger as well.
“Oh!” the guy says. “My bad, man.” I take another swallow of my beer.
“Don’t sweat it,” I tell him. “She is hot.” The guy laughs.
“Good on you, dude,” he says, clinking his bottle with mine before taking a swallow of his drink. Almost on cue, the song changes and my wife comes over to the bar, takes my jacket in both fists and drags me to the dance floor in a fit of giggles. I happily follow her as a base beat begins to play… and my wife is momentarily stunned. I think because she’s only seen me ballroom dance, she thought that’s all I could do. She’s surprised to see that I can match her moves with a few moves of my own.
The girl in the song starts to croon, her words coming so fast that I can’t understand anything that she’s saying, but I just pay attention to the beat, moving with my wife so that she doesn’t show me up. Her mouth falls open as I continue to move, opening both hands and gesturing her to come closer with my fingers. Her eyes accept the challenge and she walks right into my body, moving to the same beat.
Game on, baby.
I know my wife can dance, so I can’t half-do it on the dance floor next to her. Whoever said dancing was like sex was absolutely right, because my wife has this hair seduction thing that she does when she’s dancing that’ll have every man in the room salivating on himself—particularly me since she basically fucked me with that hair when we first met, fanning those chestnut locs all over my mouth and chest while she gave me an amazingly unbearable blowjob. Her hands slide behind her neck, lifting her hair as she closes her eyes and moves sensually to the music.
Oh, no, you don’t, Mrs. Grey.
I can finally make out the chorus of the dance beat and the crooning woman says something about wanting to get “2 on.” I grab my wife’s body with both hands and begin a slow descent down her body. I purposely brush my thumbs across each nipple on my way down and her eyes shoot open.
Now that I have your attention…
I continue the slow descent down her body until I’m crouching in front of her, my face right at her pussy. When I look up at her, she’s wantonly gazing at me, her mouth varying between open pants and lip biting. She put her hands on my shoulders to steady herself as I slowly begin the ascent back up her body, never taking my eyes of hers.
“Fuck,” she breathes as my hands brush up her calves, then her thighs, pushing her dress up as I inch my way back up her body. I release the hem of her dress as I reach her ass… can’t let the rest of the club get a look at that deliciousness.
“I love to get 2 on
I love to let’s roll
I love to get 2 on…”
I still don’t know what the hell the song is talking about, but my wife is all a-flutter by the time I make my way back up to her face. She’s brazenly licking her lips and breathing heavily as the song changes. She licks my bottom lip and bites it gently before she turns around and presses her body to mine, her back to my front. Damn… I think my plan backfired.
“And if, in the moment, I bite my lip
Baby, in that moment, you’ll know this
Is something bigger than us and beyond bliss…”
I slide my arms around her waist, meeting at her stomach. Her arms loop behind her and her hands caress my face as she grinds against me. She’s lost in the music, in her own world, and she’s taking me with her.
“’Cause if you want to keep me,
You gotta gotta gotta gotta got to love me harder
And if you really need me,
You gotta gotta gotta gotta got to love me harder…”
Shit, she’s making me want to do just that. I gently squeeze her hips to slow her movement, but it only seems to spurn her on. At first, she brushes gently against my groin—back and forth so that I feel her round ass gently grazing on the skin of my cock. I bite my lip and take a deep breath. Fuck, she feels good.
“When I get you moaning you know it’s real
Can you feel the pressure between your hips?
I’ll make it feel like the first time…”
She shifts her movement, her hands in the air, totally feeling the music and no doubt the buzz from all the drinks she had this evening.
And I’m totally feeling her ass—grinding relentlessly against my dick, now throbbing in my pants and threatening to blow against this nymph who has always been able to make me come, even fully clothed.
“Love me, love me, love me
Harder, harder, harder
Love me, love me, love me
Harder, harder, harder…”
I grab her hips and pull her body hard against me, stopping her movement before we both have a moment that we can’t avoid. She gasps as I pull her softness against my stiff body.
“Baby…” I warn, my voice gravelly, “stop… or you’re going to have a wet spot on the back of your dress.”
She giggles playfully, the alcohol still obviously stripping her of her inhibitions.
“Sorry,” she says, sweetly as she stops gyrating that luscious ass against my dick. I close my arms around her as, thankfully, a slow song starts to play. She wraps her arms around mine and lays back on my shoulder as I move her to the music. The moment the artist starts singing about loving his woman until she’s 70, I fold my body over my wife and think to myself that I’ll be loving her much longer than that…
“And I’m thinking ’bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways
Maybe just the touch of a hand
Oh me, I fall in love with you every single day
And I just wanna tell you I am…”
Suddenly, there’s no one else in the room as we curl into each other and sway. Song after song, I bury my face in her hair and lose myself in her scent. She turns around and wraps her arms around my neck and I hold her close to me. We move as one person until Sam Smith sings the last bars of “Stay with Me” and my brother taps me on my shoulder and breaks our little bubble.
“We gotta go, man,” he says, his voice anxious. I look at Valerie, who is unsuccessfully trying to clean up her smeared lipstick.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I tell him as I take my wife’s hand and we make our way out of the club.
We climb into the limo and luckily, the Fairmont Olympic is only five minutes away. Elliot and Valerie are out of the car before our wives have a chance to say Goodnight. I knock on the window as the signal for the driver to just drive before I immediately descend upon my wife.
“Christian…” she breathes and I can hear the protest in her voice. I press my finger against her lips.
“Sssshh,” I silence her. “I said we may not make it out of the car… I meant it!” I whisper. I bruise her lips with a hungry kiss and she moans into my mouth, grabbing handfuls of my hair. There’s plenty of room in this limousine and I want her now… no, not now… right now! I shrug out of my jacket before I pull her onto my lap. She’s still a bit inebriated from the nightclub and I have to say that I like her this way. Stumbling drunk is unacceptable, but tipsy is fun.
I make quick work of her zipper and slide her dress over her head, tossing it onto the other seat with my jacket. I make even quicker work of her bra and now she’s straddling me in just her thong and shoes.
“My God, these are beautiful,” I say, kissing the sides of both her lovely mounds. “So, Ana,” I say, playfully, while stroking her swollen breasts, “I see you’ve made it a habit of leaving with strangers.” She smiles coyly at me.
“Only handsome, sexy, rich strangers that give me their last name and make offers I can’t refuse…” She leans down to my ear. “… Like fucking in a limo.”
Oh, shit! Greystone is at full attention now.
I thrust my tongue in her mouth and kiss her deeply, grabbing her ass and grinding her against my erection. She moans deeply in her chest.
“You’ve got a fat pussy,” I say, keeping my rhythm. “I can feel it against my dick.”
“I… do?” she pants, licking her lips as she rises.
“Yes, you do… and I need to taste it. Unbutton my shirt.” She fumbles with the buttons, and finally gets them open, pulling my shirt out of my pants as I quickly lift her and turn, sitting her on the seat while I kneel between her legs. I quickly undo the last two buttons and my shirt joins our growing pile of clothes. I pull her ass to the edge of the soft leather seats and throw her knees over my shoulders. I can see the reflection in the tinted window of those sexy ass heels in the air, causing Greystone to pound even harder in his cotton prison.
Patience, boy. I’m hungry.
I lick her lips over the red thong, now drenched with her arousal, and her helpless keen coupled with her scent sends my mind into a tailspin. Fuck, what do I do with all this desire? I can’t fuck her yet. It’ll be over too soon.
“What do you want?” I say into her pussy.
“Ugh! Oh, God!” she cries. “You! I want you!”
“How do you want me?” I say, still breathing heat into her thong.
“Ohoho, God!” she whines. “Everything! I want everything!”
“Everything?” I say, still tormenting her as she squirms against me. “You sure about that?”
“Yes!” she screams, her thighs trembling. “Everything! Please!”
Well, then, everything you shall get.
She’s so responsive that I know her first orgasm is right there waiting for me, especially since I primed her earlier with the clothed foreplay, so I take it… right through her thong. I hum against her lips and breathe heat into her core. Seconds later, she’s screaming and clenching my hair, her legs trembling. Fuck, I love it when she’s like this! Before she comes down, I move her thong to the side and run my tongue over her naked clit.
“Oohohhohh, oh, God, please…” she protests, grabbing handfuls of my hair.
“Please, what?” I demand, still lathing my tongue over her clit. She arches her back and squirms.
“Please! Oh, God, please!” I know that she’s sensitive, but that means her second orgasm will come faster and I want more!
“You said ‘everything,’” I remind her, still talking against her clit. “This is ‘everything!’” I clamp my lips down on her clit and suck hard, careful to keep my teeth out of the way… for now. Her hips rise off the seat and I quickly grab her ass, holding her in that position to my face. She’s now pulling my hair hard, trying to stop the assault.
“Ah! Aaah!” No, no, no… there’s no escape for you, Mrs. Grey. I suck deep, giving her unbearable stimulation for several moments until…
“AaahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaohGoooooooood!” she cries out as her hips rise and she stiffens against my mouth. When she starts to tremble, I sit her butt on the seat to give her just a moment’s rest while I peel out of the rest of my clothes. I’m completely naked before she even has a chance to catch her breath and my dick is jutting up in the air seeking that “fat” pussy. I quickly flip her over on the seat so that her ass is sticking up in the air. I lick my lips in anticipation as I run the head of my dick over her clit from behind.
“You’re a bad girl, Ana,” I growl. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to get in cars with strangers?”
“My mother didn’t teach me shit!” she hisses, pushing her hips back so that her wet pussy rubs against the head of my dick.
“Not smart, Ana,” I hiss as my cock gets harder. “Not smart at all.”
“So, what the fuck are you going to do about it?” she snaps, and my dick is instantly as hard as stone. With one move, I pull back and slam into her pussy—deep… and hard!
“Aaaahh! Fuck!” she swears and I roar gutturally as the burn moves straight to my balls.
“Do you really want to taunt me, little lady?” I growl through clenched teeth.
“Is that all you got?” she goads from her throat and I can’t believe how hard she’s making me. I wrap one hand in her hair and grasp her shoulder with the other, pulling her back hard and mercilessly onto my angry dick. She braces herself against the seat back while I thrust, again and again, into her hot, wet pussy.
“Fuck!” I hiss as my abs start to tighten with the hint of the beginning of an orgasm.
“That’s it!” she pants. “Fuck me! Give it to me!”
Goddamn! I’ve got to get Cosmos into this woman more often. She is so fucking wet, I can hear my dick sloshing inside of her and her ass is slapping against me.
“You want everything, right?” I growl, still sliding wetly in and out of her.
“Every-fucking-thing!” she confirms with a matching growl. My dick slips out of her pussy and I begin to play with her rosette with the head. I release her shoulder so that I can gather some of her dripping wetness and spread it over her ass. Unable to control my heavy breathing in anticipation of taking her ass, I bite my lip and stiffen as I slowly start to push into her tight anal opening. She’s panting, too, now, pushing back onto me to rush the penetration. I drop my head back and try to absorb the pleasure as she’s so tight, I can feel her on every inch of the skin on my shaft. Too fucking good… Then, she surprises me by pushing all the way back on my dick, taking me to the balls in her ass.
“Fuuuuuck!” I growl, releasing her hair and squeezing her hips with both hands, my fingers sinking deep into the meat. “Fuck! Oh, fuck! Fuck!”
“Something wrong there, Chris?” she taunts. Shit! That shit is hot. I pull back and thrust into her ass.
“Yeah… fuck, yeah… this ass is too goddamn tight. I’m fucking going to come in your tight, little ass. You want that, Ana? Huh? You want that?” I thrust over and over, watching my dick get harder and pinker as it slides in and out of her ass.
“Show me what you got, lover boy,” she taunts, and my hand is back in her hair, the long tresses wrapped around my fist while the other is still digging into her hips.
“I got a big ass load coming for you, baby,” I say, pumping feverishly in her ass and feeling the tightening in my balls and abs again. “Oh, yeah, baby, fuck… it’s coming… it’s fucking coming…”
“Fuck me… harder! I want to feel you throbbing in my ass!”
That was it. I don’t know if it took three more strokes, but I was thumping hard in her ass, my cum spurting hot and angry inside of her, my abs flexing and pulsing while the muscles and veins in my thighs threaten to burst out of my skin. I’m coming so hard that I had to look down and watch and god-damn if it wasn’t the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen—my dick pulsing so hard and filling that ass so much that the semen is seeping out around the head; my muscles so tight with the orgasm that I can see and feel every sweat-drenched sinew. Fucking hell… I can see myself jacking off to this scene in the future.
“Shit, baby, shit… this ass! This fucking ass!” I protest through clenched teeth as the last of my orgasm squirts out of me, but my erection doesn’t wane. I take a moment to catch my breath before removing my still-hard dick from her ass, then retrieving napkins from the bar nearby to clean the dripping cum from her thighs and ass. I have to find something to clean my dick, because I plan on getting back in that pussy again. I’ll use water from the mini-bar and some of this champagne if I have to. I start looking through the two large drawers at the bottom of the bar and find a fucking treasure trove.
“Well, fuck me,” I exclaim in mirth.
“I thought I just did,” she retorts.
“No, I fucked you, but it’s not over yet.” I hear her scoff as I remove supplies from bottom drawer. She’s surprised when she feels moist wetness against her thighs and ass.
“What’s that?” she exclaims.
“The bottom drawer down here is full of condoms and individually wrapped sanitary wipes,” I tell her, opening another wipe and thoroughly cleaning my dick and balls. She gasps.
“You’re kidding,” she says, trying to look over her shoulder. I push her back down into the leather seat.
“Oh, no,” I warn. “I’m not done with you yet…”
And off we go. I take her from behind again, stroking my unrelenting erection into that sweet pussy again and again while she sits on my lap. I’m slowly building to another orgasm while I’m tweaking those sweet, taught nipples and cupping her breasts, watching her reflection in the tinted glass. My wife suddenly rises from my lap and sits back on the leather seat. Her ass is right at the edge and her legs are on either side of me, her feet wedged into a banister on the bar behind me right at my hips, still in those sexy ass shoes.
“C’mon,” she teases through her teeth. “Don’t stop now.” She glares at me seductively through banshee hair falling over her face. Fuck, she’s so fucking hot!
I raise up a bit on my knees and guide my eager shaft back into her pussy. I reach for her hips for traction and she protests.
“Don’t touch me,” she commands, “just fuck me!”
I run my tongue across my teeth and thrust hard up into her, bracing my hands on the same banister that she’s bracing her feet against.
“There it is,” she growls primally. “That’s it. Make that dick work. Make me feel it.” I grind my teeth.
“You’re playing with fire, little girl,” I hiss as my dick prods deep into her. She raises an eyebrow.
“Little girl?” she taunts, lifting her hips from the leather seat. “Is that so?”
Oh, shit… what the fuck have I done?
The muscles in her arms tighten and become more impressive than any man I’ve ever seen as she balances her weight on her arms and drops that pussy relentlessly down on me. In the position I’m in, I can’t move. I can’t do anything but sit here and take it.
“I got your fucking little girl right here, big boy!” she hisses as her hips roll, grind, and drop mercilessly on my waiting, hard-as-steel dick. I’m trying to not pant like a little bitch, but she is working the fuck outta me. My dick doesn’t stand a chance.
“Yes… fuck!” I want to watch my dick, but I’m too busy watching her, glaring at me, challenging me while fucking me senseless, angrily pulling on my oh-so-willing cock with pelvic muscles that threaten to squeeze the life out of me… literally!
“Trying to show me up, Ana?” I grunt, attempting to hold on to what little manhood I have left.
“Not trying… doing… Chrisssss!” Oooohhh, fucking hell.
“Say it again,” I demand. I liked it when she said that name in the bar. I like it even more now.
“Chris!” she growls. Oh, fuck, I like that a lot! I lean back on the banister, angling myself for deep penetration.
“Again!” I hiss.
“Chris!” she breathes, dropping her head back and grinding hard on my cock. “Fuck, Chris, you’re so big!”
That shit sends a jolt through me. She’s riding my dick hard. Her naked body is writhing in front of me. She’s holding her head back and calling me Chris. Fucking hell.
“I’m gonna come!” I say through gritted teeth. She raises her head and glares at me with sharp blue eyes, her hair cascading over her shoulders and breasts and partially over her face.
“Then come, Chris!” she hisses, while writhing and riding on my dick. “Come real hard. I wanna feel you fill me up! Come on, give it to me, Chris.”
“Fuck!” She’s staring at me with those sexy ass fuck-me eyes and the orgasm that at first promised to be massive now vows to be cosmic.
“Dammit! You sexy bitch!” I croak before I can stop myself. Her tongue darts out of her mouth and she smiles devilishly.
“Chris!” she scolds as she continues to torment my shaft. “Language! You’re a bad boy!” she taunts. “Now empty those balls for me. Come on, I want to feel that cock throbbing inside of me. I want you to feel this nut in your goddamn eyelashes! Now stop holding back and give it to me.”
Oh, fuck… I’m doomed.
“Ah! Oh, God,” I whimper. She takes my hesitance as resistance and wraps herself around me like a vine, just like she did that first night against her dining room wall—and I’m fucking helpless. I couldn’t escape then and I really can’t escape now. Her thighs are locked on my hips and one arm is wrapped tight around my neck, her hand thrust into my hair. I think the other is grasping the bar.
“C’mon, Chris,” she hisses in my ear. “You know those balls are gettin’ tight. That dick is probably purple and painful inside my hot pussy. Can you feel me squeezing you? I know you can…”
Fuck, she’s going to kill me. She’s not even concerned about her own orgasm anymore.
“Ana…” I gasp.
“Ssshh,” she chides. “No talking… just listen… and feel!” she hisses. “Feel your dick rubbing against my walls—hot and wet and pulsing, ready for your cum. Stop teasing me! Give it to me! Give me what I want!” she demands.
I feel a gripping sensation from the top of my neck all the way down to the base of my spine. Fuck, what the hell is this? My feet slip from under me and I crash to my knees, but she still doesn’t stop. I grunt with each of her thrusts and I’m becoming one large sensation. I can’t tell the difference between my body parts anymore.
“That’s it… that’s it… Fuck, Chris, I didn’t think you could get any harder. Shit that feels so good… I’m not gonna come, Chris. I’m not gonna stop… I’m not gonna stop until you come!”
My grunts become long, breathless moans that match the agonizing pleasure that she brings with each grind.
“Fu… fu… fu…” I can’t even say the whole word. When I start gasping for air, she violently tightens her hand in my hair, pulls my head to the side, and sinks her teeth into my exposed neck.
My entire body combusts with the force of Mount St. Helens and everything but my lungs and arms are paralyzed with pleasure. I wrap my arms ferociously around her, trying and failing to hold her in place while my dick swells and thumps and erupts angrily inside of her. All the air in my lungs finally rips from my throat in cries for mercy as a never-ending orgasm send chills, heat, pain, and ecstasy throughout my entire body.
“Ah… uh… ah… ah… ah… uh…” I can’t get a full breath in and she’s not showing any mercy. She’s moving hard, hot and fast on my dick like I’m not coming hard enough to shoot her brains from here to Jupiter.
And my dick’s still not going down.
“Please! Oh, please, please! Please!” My balls won’t stop throbbing and she won’t stop moving. You would think I was storing up cum like chipmunks store up nuts for the winter! She slows her stroke, but doesn’t stop.
“What’s the matter, Chris?” she says in my ear. “You… wanted to… give me everything… I just… want to give it back.” I hear the pleasure in her voice. She’s not going to let up on me, and Greystone isn’t stopping… What the fuck?
“Baby… please…” I pant, almost mindless with surrender. I don’t know that I can take anymore, and after all that, I still feel an orgasm in my back!
“I’ll stop… if you will… you’re getting harder… I feel it… You’re getting harder inside of me…”
She’s fucking relentless, and my dick won’t go down. Fucking hell, I’m dying here!
“Hoh, God,” I yield, giving in to the fact that this ain’t over til she says it’s over.
“That’s it, Chris,” she says, sweetly. “Give in to me… you’re mine, now.”
And here I thought I was in control.
She rides for only a few more minutes before…
“I’m coming, baby… I’m coming on that hard dick… Can you feel it? I’m… I’m… fuuuuuuuuuck!”
Hell, yeah, I can feel it! And with that vise-grip-pulsing pussy, that orgasm in my back finally makes its appearance.
“God-damn!” I yell as she screams incoherently through her release… releases… I don’t know. I get the strength to turn her and plop her onto the floor, driving into her hard while my dick beats a mean tattoo inside her.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck, yes!” she screams, her nails digging into my arms.
I honestly don’t know which one of us taps out first. I just know that when I come back to myself, we’re coiled around each other on the floor, both sweating and panting and unable to move. I reach for my suit jacket and throw it over our bodies to give us time to catch our breath.
The limo driver drops us off at Escala. It’s easier than trying to get back to Grey Crossing after having driven around nearly all night. He seemed very pleased with the tip that Christian gave him, so I didn’t feel too bad for him having to drive around.
We still can’t keep our hands off each other during the ride up the elevator or while walking through the great room to get to our old bedroom. It’s not that we’re necessarily horny. We’re just very amorous. I’ve long since burned off the alcohol from earlier in the evening, but his reaction to me calling him Chris… fuck, that was cosmic. Will he be thinking about that when guys call him Chris from now on?
He strips me naked before shedding his clothes and we both climb into bed. I don’t know that I can say that this was the best sex we’ve ever had, but it was pretty damn close and probably the most fun—most likely because we’ve been so stressed out for the last couple of months. I expect for us both to fall right to sleep, but it doesn’t happen. I turn around to face him and we start to kiss again.
“Baby,” he says, getting my attention. “I need to be inside you.”
“Christian, you can’t possibly…” I begin to protest.
“No,” he says. “I don’t need to come. I just need to be inside you.” My brow furrows.
“What?” I ask, bemused.
“I don’t know why, but I just know… I won’t able to sleep tonight if I’m not inside of you.” I don’t get it, but I’m positive that this is going to lead to sex again. I never deny my husband, no matter how his sex drive might outlast mine, so…
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. He lifts my leg over his hip and pulls me close to him. His dick is semi-erect and he has no problem slipping it into my recently-well-used pussy. We both inhale deeply as he slides inside and I ready myself for round four… or five… or twelve, whichever one this will be. He snuggles close to me sinks in deep inside of me. He kisses me softly, then buries his head in my neck.
“Goodnight, baby,” he says, holding me in that position. That’s it? He’s really going to just go to sleep like this?
“Goodnight,” I say skeptically and guess what happens?
We fall asleep!
I wake before he does the next morning and we are still in the same position, only I forget that he’s inside me…
And he has morning wood.
I immediately ignite at the feel of him like we didn’t just fuck nearly all night the night before! I try to think about rainbows and donkeys, my children, Carrick’s horrible brother Freeman—nothing helps! My pussy is pulsing like a goddamn alarm clock… and Christian’s eyes fly open just like he heard it.
“Uh… morning,” I say, trying to act casual. He just looks at me and says nothing, then he brushes his lips across mine without closing his eyes. Then he kisses me without closing his eyes. Next, in one smooth move, he rolls me on top of him and starts to stroke gently. I gasp, because I’m still tender.
“Ssh,” he quiets me, his arms wrapped gently around me. “Relax,” he whispers. I do, and let him stroke into me.
“Lay on my shoulder,” he says, and I comply, still allowing him to stroke into me. He turns his head towards me and kisses me gently, and again, and soon, I’m rising slowly.
“Relax, baby,” he breathes. “Our bodies call to one another no matter what we may do.” Sure enough, a few moments later, I’m bursting into a satisfied release and he follows soon after—nothing cosmic and crazy, just something to take the edge off. We breathe through our orgasms and look at each other.
“Better?” he asks, stroking my back.
“Better,” I say.
“We’ve been too stressed out, Butterfly,” he says.
“I know,” I tell him.
“We have to find a way to do better,” he warns.
A lot of the stuff that we were dealing with is gone now,” I tell him. “We only have one big thing left to deal with.” I sigh.
“And a really big thing it is,” he says, and I burrow my head into his chest.
Jason picks Christian up from the penthouse and takes him in to Grey House while Chuck takes me back to Grey Manor. I can’t wait to see my babies, but they’re asleep when I arrive, so I have to wait until the mid-morning feeding for “twin-time.” I’m relaxed and loose as a noodle, though, and trying to make heads or tails of a somewhat strange request from the licensing board when Valerie comes into the dining room with her iPad.
“Have you seen this?” she asks and hands me her iPad. There are separate pictures of me and Christian and of Val and Elliot at the Havana Social Club last night, all of us behaving just barely acceptably on the dance floor. I was so lost in Christian that I didn’t even notice Val and Elliot getting a serious bump and grind going to the music. The accompanying blurb proves that we had absolutely no idea that we were the subject of someone’s photo shoot.
What are they putting in the drinks at Havana? Whatever it is, I’ll have a double. Sexy couples can be found grinding and groping on the dance floor on a Sunday Night at the local hot spot, including some of Seattle’s elite. Christian and Anastasia Grey—AKA AnaChris—are pictured above getting frisky and saucy and showing off their moves while Christian’s brother, Elliot Grey, and his new wife, Valerie, are pictured above at right getting just as hot and heavy in the moderately lit nightclub. Club goers confirm that AnaChris and ValLiot spent the evening in longing, lustful gazes with their significant others while sipping fashionable cocktails before heating up the dance floor and leaving well into the night. Will we be hearing the pitter-patter of little feet again soon? If there are more heirs to the Grey fortune born next April, remember that you heard it here, first!
“ValLiot?” Val exclaims in horror. “What the fuck is ValLiot? It sounds like some new drug to treat depression or erectile dysfunction or something! Can’t get it up? Ask your doctor about ValLiot.” She says the last part in a soft, commercial-type voice. “’ValLiot…’ good God, give me a break.” I can’t help my chuckle.
“At least they didn’t name you after the Destroyer of All Good Things. Hell, our name sounds like the first coming of the False Prophet! Beware the AnaChris! God shall smite thee!” My voice sounds more like Moses coming down from the Mount with the tablets. Val laughs this time.
“True, true,” she says. “Good Lord, famous by association.”
“Somewhat, but you married a Grey… welcome to the limelight, my friend.” Val rolls her eyes. “Remember when we talked about things changing?” I said. “Yeah, well, expect your security detail soon.” Her brow furrows.
“Oh, no, really?” she laments. I nod.
“Really,” I say. “Wanna get out while the gettin’s good?” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“Not on your fucking life.”
“Okay, what did I walk in on?” Mia’s voice cautiously interrupts us. I snicker and hand Mia Val’s iPad.
“Guess who got a new nickname?” I tease. Mia looks at the article and raises her eyes to Val.
“ValLiot??” she says in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Val says, somewhat dismayed, falling down in one of the dining chairs. “God, they really need to get over this whole name-merge thing. It’s so Bennifer. What was that, like ten years ago?”
“Try twelve,” I correct her before turning back to Mia. “I was just telling Val to be prepared for her security detail any day now,” I declare with a smile. Mia hands the iPad back to Val.
“Are you ready for that?” she says. Val shrugs.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” she says. “The limelight has found me even though I wasn’t looking for it.” She shrugs. “They’re going to be pretty bored with me, though. Lately, my schedule involves doctor’s appointments, vegging out, and yoga.” She looks at her hands admiring her new French manicure. I, on the other hand, am paying close attention to Mia.
“What is it, Mia?” I ask. Mia sighs a cliché sigh, yet not so cliché…
“My wedding is in two and a half months… and Grampa is dying. The final dress fitting is this weekend—I’ve put it off as long as I can—but my Grandpa is dying. How can I possibly run around happily planning my wedding and finalizing caterers and cakes and DJs and whatnot when my Grandpa is dying? I’ve been thinking about postponing the wedding until… well, you know…”
“Until when, Mia?” I ask. “Until after Pops dies? I’m sorry to tell you this, Mia, but there’s no way Pops is going to make it to your wedding. I understand what you’re saying, but if you keep the date, you’re going to be getting married no less than a month after Pops dies… What do you think Pops would want you to do?”
“He’s already told me what to do,” she says. “He said to have the wedding. I told him that I wanted to spend time with him while I can. He scolded me.”
“He scolded you?” Val asks with a frown. Mia nods.
“He said, ‘these aren’t quality moments. Don’t spend time with the dying, child. Spend time with the living. Remember our moments when I was alive, not these times when I’m wasting away waiting to meet my maker.’” A tear falls from her eye. She sits at the dining table and quickly wipes it away. “I’ve only had my grandfather for a year. I never got the chance to bounce on his knee or listen to his bad jokes or tales about the good ole days. He was already sick when he got here. You have no idea how much I prayed and prayed for him to get better… for one of us to be a match so that he could get a kidney. In this whole nation, they couldn’t find someone who was a match for my Grampa. Thousands of people who flow through UNOS, and they couldn’t find one kidney for my Grampa.” She shakes her head. Val puts an arm around her.
“It’s not the easiest thing to hear,” I tell her, “but sometimes, it’s just that way. It’s harder to swallow when you’re watching it happen to someone that you love, but it’s still a bitter truth. Pops has been on dialysis for years. His body just can’t take it anymore.” I reach across and take her hand.
“I know you want things to be different. I know you want that kidney to magically appear for Pops, to be able to have him around for a little while longer, but it’s just not in the stars… and he’s at peace with it, Mia. He misses his wife and he’s ready for the suffering to be over. Quite frankly, I think you should take his advice and continue with your wedding plans, but if you really want a solid opinion on this, you should ask your parents.” She sniffles a bit, still wiping her eyes, but nods at my suggestion.
“I just don’t want to be disrespectful… planning a cake tasting or something at the very moment my Grampa is slipping away.” A shiver runs through her, visibly shaking her entire body. “I only gave him those vitamin drinks because I love him,” she says, weeping bitterly.
Vitamin drinks? What is she talking about?
Val envelopes Mia in her arms as she sobs, releasing a sorrow and sadness that she’s obviously been holding in for quite some time. I continue to squeeze her hand, vicariously feeling her immense sense of loss. Hell, my mother wasn’t even at my wedding. Who gets married without their mom?
But my mom isn’t dead. My mom is in Vegas, being a selfish bitch. Pops is going to die and never come back. He’ll be gone and we can’t run to his side and wish him better and talk to him and try not to feel sad because he’s feeling badly. No, he’s leaving for good.
This will be my first real experience with death. Steven, the walking moonshine still, doesn’t count. I was never close to Melanie, my dignity therapy patient and the one who ultimately blew the lid off the Green Valley case, even though I was present when she died. Edward—my psycho ex—was even less significant that Steven.
“I know it’s hard to try to move on, Meelo,” I begin, my voice full of sympathy, “but at the risk of sounding too detached, life does go on. Pops doesn’t want his last days to be about him dying, not even to him. He wants them to be a reflection of life—his and everyone else’s. If we all walk around looking over our shoulders for the Angel of Death, it would make his last days very miserable. I think that’s what he was trying to tell you. He was trying to tell you not to dwell with the dying, but to live with the living. Even Pops isn’t dwelling with the dying. We always talk about his wife and the life they had together, about where she is now and them being reunited. He never talks about his deteriorating state or his discomfort. He talks about living. Another. Life.”
I say the last part slowly because I want her to see Pops’ passing for what it is—a transition, a graduation of sorts to another realm that we’ll all one day have to do. She sniffs and nods through her sobs as I squeeze her hand. Several seconds later, she raises her eyes to me. I can’t quite read her expression.
“What?” I ask concerned.
“You… called me Meelo,” she says softly. Did I? I didn’t intend to… “Nobody calls me Meelo, but Christian,” she adds. I suddenly feel very self-conscious. I open my mouth to apologize when she smiles and says, “I’ve always wanted a sister.” I sigh heavily and return her smile before she turns to Val and squeezes her hand, too.
“And now I have two,” she adds. Val smiles widely. We all share a moment, before I say,
“Talk to Grace and Carrick. See how they feel. Then share as many details of the planning as he can stand with Pops. I’m sure he’d much rather be a part of life than death right now.” She smiles softly and nods.
“It makes sense,” she says. “I will.”
“Well,” Val begins, while squeezing her hand. “I know you’re marrying a Kavanaugh, but you’re a Grey right now. Get ready for your name merge once the society page gets their claws into you.” Mia scowls.
“Oh, good God, what the hell do you think they’ll come up with for us?” she laments. We all look at each other for a moment before the three of us say it unison.
A/N: Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc., can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/raising-grey/
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