This is a work of creativity. As such, you may see words, concepts, scenes, actions, behaviors, pictures, implements, and people that may or may not be socially acceptable and/or offensive. If you are sensitive to adverse and alternative subject matter of any kind, please do not proceed, because I guarantee you’ll find it here. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.
I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don’t like this story or me, please don’t spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…
Chapter 62—Rewriting History
I have something for you,” he says once we’re in the car and we’ve dismissed Chuck and Jason. My husband pulls out a plain black shopping bag. From that bag, he retrieves a plain black box. He opens the box to reveal a stunning diamond and ruby bracelet.
“Wow!” I exclaim. This isn’t just any bracelet. We’re talking two rows of solid rubies with a row of diamonds in between all set in…
“Platinum?” I ask as he fastens the bracelet on my arm.
“White gold,” he says, “14 karat.” I sigh.
“Okay,” I breathe. He raises his gaze to me.
“What?” he asks as he reaches into the bag.
“I… I know it’s nothing for you to do extravagant things for me but… these rubies… they had to cost a fortune!” I’m truly relieved that he didn’t spring for the platinum and opted for the white gold. He smiles and opens another box.
“Oh, dear God!” I gasp. He removes the necklace with a drop pendant.
“Also white gold,” he informs me as he leans forward and attaches the necklace around my neck. Yeah! White gold… and a whole lotta diamonds! And rubies!
“Christian…” I say, a bit uncertain.
“There’s one more,” he says as he opens a third box.
Victorian teardrop ruby earrings encircled with diamonds… set in white gold, or course. I’m nearly breathless as he puts the first earring in my ear.
“I’m sorry the pieces are a bit mix-matched.”
“Are you kidding?” I protest as he puts the second earring in my ear. “They’re breathtaking! Who the hell cares that they don’t match?” I touch the necklace that lies daintily between my breasts. I don’t even want to think about how much money I’m wearing right now… And I thought my Chanel collections were pricy!
“There’s a reason they don’t match, Butterfly,” he says solemnly as he sets the bags to the side and takes my hand. “Each one of these pieces… belonged to my grandmother.” I frown.
“Your grandmother?” I ask confused.
“They were gifts from Pops… to Ruby.”
I swallow hard. I’ve really lost my breath now. These were Ruby’s rubies… Jesus.
I’m choking on tears that I’m trying not to shed. I know that I won’t smear this million-dollar make-up, but I still don’t want to cry… and yet…
“Oh… God…” I choke. “They’re… beautiful!”
My husband produces his handkerchief and gently dabs my eyes.
“I’m… so… proud… that you… want… me… to wear… th… them…”
“Breathe, baby,” he says as he pulls me into his chest. I take slow deep breaths and try to compose myself. These pieces are more valuable than anything I own, not only in monetary value, but also in sentimental value.
“A year ago today, I stepped off a plane with more questions than answers,” he begins when my crying has subsided a bit. “I walked through the airport and saw one of my arch-enemies standing there looking at me with sympathetic eyes. I knew immediately that my life had changed forever.”
Has he ever told me this story? I don’t think he has.
“I don’t remember the ride to the hospital. I just remember getting there and some guy trying to convince me to talk to Dr. Hill before I saw you. I remember that it was Jason that convinced him that I would probably act like a temper-tantrum throwing toddler if he didn’t take me to my wife.”
He sighs heavily, and I know this is hard for him to discuss, but I don’t interrupt him.
“Dr. Hill tried to warn me that you were banged up pretty badly and that you wouldn’t look like yourself. All I saw was my beautiful Butterfly.” He reaches up and wipes a tear from his cheek.
“We talked about different things. He told me how bad your injuries were, and he used a lot of doctor speak. All I could really remember were your advanced directives and how much time I had left with you.”
Advanced directives? My advanced directives are 60 days. My due date was longer than that… were they going to let my babies die?
“Dr. Hill was trying to talk to me about options… about keeping you alive for Minnie and Mikey even if you didn’t wake up on your own, but I was in no condition to discuss that. I just wanted my wife back.”
Well, at least that answers my question. It may be a moot point now, but nonetheless…
“I read to you,” he says. “I read The Little Red Hen, Goldilocks and The Three Bears, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves…”
Yes! I vaguely remember, somewhere in the fog of my slumber, Christian being displeased about the fate of the Gingerbread Man!
“And then twelve days later, God heard my prayers. You came back to me… only… you didn’t.”
I raise my gaze to his and watch the pain return to his eyes as he recalls my short bout with amnesia.
“That was a hard day or two,” he says. “Dr. Hill put me out of your room and I tried to get him fired. I loved when you asked him if he had gotten his medical license on Sesame Street.”
We both laugh softly at that comment.
“I remember that,” I said. “I just couldn’t believe his tactics. If I need to remember the familiar, why would you take the familiar away? It was beyond my understanding.”
“Well, you really put him in his place,” he says, chuckling. It’s brings some much-needed levity to the situation.
“I’m only saying that to say this,” he continues, stroking my hair. “This may not be the appropriate thing in the eyes of someone on the outside looking in,” he says, “commemorating the day that your whole world was turned upside down, that the rug was nearly snatched from under you and you had no idea how you would make it another day under the circumstances.” He sighs heavily.
“When I walked into that room and saw you lying there—seemingly lifeless, bruised and broken with all those tubes and machines, my entire world shifted on its axis. My whole family, my whole being was in that bed fighting for their lives. I remember praying for the first time in my life during that ordeal. I don’t know if it’s the first time that I prayed, but it’s the first time I remember praying. I didn’t care how you came back to me as long as you came back to me. I remember feeling that I never was and would never be anything without you.
“You changed my life, Anastasia. I didn’t wake up that day that you awoke. I awoke a year ago today. I awoke and realized that you and the babies are my purpose, my whole life. I know my behavior may not always show it, but you’re everything to me. I may still do some real bonehead shit, and we’re going to make mistakes—we haven’t gotten to the real doozies, yet—but no matter what happens, you are still my whole life. I’m still going to screw up, baby. I may not always get it right, and sometimes I may get it very, very wrong, but please… please, never forget that I’m nothing without you. You’re my whole heart and my whole soul and a year ago today, I could have lost that. This night was my rebirth… the day that I knew my purpose in life and why I was put on this earth. So, while some may think it’s morbid to commemorate the day that I could have lost my entire family, I find it necessary to remember the day that God showed me my purpose, no matter how difficult the circumstances were to bear.
“For that reason, I want to celebrate this day. I want to take away the bad meaning and the fact that a psychotic submissive nearly robbed me of my life and replace it with the fact that I discovered what you truly meant to me and you fought through a brain injury, through a coma, through a crazy doctor and through amnesia to get back to me. We were meant to be and whatever I may or may not know, I know that this day a year ago, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I belonged to you. I belong to Anastasia Grey.”
I climb in his lap and take his face in my hands. His arms slide possessively around my waist and I kiss him deeply. He groans as I melt into his body, feeding off of him. I pull my lips away from his and kiss him gently once more.
“And I belong to you, Christian Grey.”
We enter the restaurant and it’s quainter than I expected. I have to say that draped in diamonds and rubies, I expected to be at Canlis or some restaurant on the marina. Although I’m a bit overdressed, this is a pleasant surprise.
“Everybody’s staring,” I inform Christian.
“So?” he says. “Everybody’s looking at the gorgeous woman with the hot curves in the blue dress and wondering, ‘Who’s that dope on her arm?’” I giggle.
“That ‘dope’ is her gorgeous, hot husband,” I whisper to him as his hand slides to the small of my back.
“Hello, sir, ma’am,” a gentleman greets us. “Do you have a reservation?”
“We do,” Christian says. “It’s under Grey.” He looks at his appointment book.
“Right this way, sir,” he says and begins to lead us to a table.
“Um, can we sit at the bar?” I ask. The host looks at Christian who turns to me.
“Are you sure you want to sit at the bar?” he asks. I nod.
“Yes,” I say. Rubies or not, I want to feel like a normal person. Christian turns to the host and nods.
“Very well, sir.” Christian helps me off with my coat and the host pulls the stool out for me.
“Can we start you with something to drink?” he asks.
“A cosmopolitan, please,” I say.
“Um, I’m sorry ma’am, but that’s not on our drink list,” he replies.
“Well, can the bartender actually make one?” Christian asks. “I’ll pay him extra if he does it right and keeps ‘em comin’.” He raises a brow and suppresses a smirk.
“I’ll find out for you, and what will you have, sir?”
“May I see the wine list please?” he nods and leaves once I’m seated.
“I just want you to know,” he says, “I have no intention of behaving myself just because we’re sitting at the bar.” His words go straight to my core. I run my tongue over my bottom lip and bite it.
“I should hope not,” I reply huskily, and his pupils dilate wildly. He stands and moves his stool closer to mine. After climbing back into it, he turns to me and drapes one arm over the back of my chair, leaning in close to my face.
“Careful,” he says, his voice deep and full of desire, “you’re playing with fire.”
“Some like it hot,” I retort, raising my eyes to him but not my head. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, adjusting his pants a bit. My eyes travel to his crotch and I can clearly make out the outline of his hardening cock through his jeans. My mouth waters. I can’t believe that after fucking like bunnies for two nights in a row, I could still spread him across this bar and fuck him right here!
“Behave yourself, young lady,” he warns.
“What’s the fun in that… Chris?” I reply. He chuckles and shakes his head.
“You are so going to get it…”
The gentleman comes back with my Cosmo and the wine list for Christian. He sets the Cosmo down and hands the wine list to Christian before turning back to me.
“The bartender wants to know if he got it right,” he says. I taste the drink and close my eyes, allowing the flavor to coat my tongue and the liquor to slide down my throat and warm my chest.
“Mmm,” I hum in satisfaction. “It’s perfect.”
The host stares at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nods once and turns completely away from me to face Christian.
“Your choice, sir?” he says. His voice is scratchy, and he has to clear his throat and repeat himself. Okay… did I do something wrong?
“I’ll have a snifter of the A. E. Dor Napoleon and we’ll just do the classic wine pairings.” He hands the wine list back and smiles.
“Yes, sir,” the host says and leaves. Christian drops his head and laughs quietly.
“What did I just miss?” I ask, bemused. My husband raises amused sparkling gray eyes to me.
“That you’re a fucking siren even when you’re not trying to be,” he says leaning in closer to me again. “The entire time he was waiting for that wine list, he was covering his cock with his hand. You turned him on, baby.”
I glare at him with an expression of amused horror combined with disbelief.
“God, men are such simple creatures,” I say, tickled. Christian laughs.
“Most often, we are,” he confirms, “but baby, you’re hot.” He leans in and kisses me softly just under my earlobe. I will be if you keep that up.
“Scorching,” I breathe and take another sip of my drink to cool myself… and he has to adjust his pants again.
We feast on a stuzzichini presentation large enough to represent the meal on its own. We feed each other grape and melon, albacore, tonnato, grass fed beef crudo, pickled ramps, parmesan fermented potato and nasturtium crostata, coho roe, savory cannoli, sea urchin, with some sort of drink made with Campari, soda water, and something citrus. We never ate anything from our own hand, only from the other’s, and I don’t doubt that our sensual eating experience resulted in more than one pair of tight pants or moist panties in the restaurant.
As if the insane finger food weren’t enough, we ordered nearly everything on the seasonal menu and continued to feed one another. I ordered the meal combination containing hand cut pappardelle with a spicy ragù of tripe, ox tail, and goat’s milk pecorino, the house specialty bread with cultured butter and bagna cauda solids, and black cod and spot prawn cured on herbs. Christian ordered the dry aged duck breast with early winter roots and spicy pickled cherries and crispy braised pancetta with gorgonzola dolce, Adriatic figs and sage.
I decide to forego the concord grape sorbetto that comes with my meal and instead, opt to share Christian’s vanilla and rum panna cotta. It’s divine! By the time we get to the Amaro Montenegró affogato, I’m full to the gills and quite pickled. I’ve had about three… no, four different wine pairings, two separate liqueur concoctions, two and a half Cosmos, a sip of Christian’s brandy, and now dessert coffee with a liquor shot. Amazingly, I’m not falling down or stumbling drunk, but I’m pretty fucking high…
… And horny. If we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to make good on my earlier thought of fucking him on this counter.
She is surely ripe and ready. Every man in this place—and some of the women—have been eye-fucking her all night. Sorry, fellas, but she’s gonna be riding this dick tonight!
“I’m going to watch that ass while you walk away again,” I tell her, “so let’s go.”
She smiles coyly at me and slides off her seat. I retrieve her coat and fall in step behind her. Even though I know she’s fairly fermented, she walks in front of me with the grace of royalty, and the round, rolling ass of a stripper. I don’t even try to hide my erection or to divert my gaze. You have to be fucking dead not to watch that ass roll or to not have a reaction to it.
Just before we get to the door, I see a guy at one of the tables staring at Butterfly. Just as we approach, he glances at the hips. As she passes, I see him mouth “Damn” to his friend and his eyes meet mine.
He’s shameless. As I pass his table, he gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up combined with a “I wish it was me” expression.
I can’t be angry. I give him a single nod before helping Butterfly with her coat and leaving the restaurant.
“Calm yourself, Mrs. Grey,” I say as the limo pulls away from the curb and she looks at me with come-hither eyes. The last time we were in a limo alone together, it became a rolling fuckpad and we made the most of every damn inch of it.
“I’m hot, Chris,” she breathes, “and wet… and I wanna fuck.”
“And fuck, we will, just not now.” I close the space between us. “But I am going to kiss you until my lips are numb… or until we get to our next destination, whichever comes first,” and I descend on her.
“Oh, this is awesome!” she says as the limo pulls up to the Great Wheel. “I’ve never been on the Great Wheel and I’ve always wanted to go!”
She’s like a kid trying to get out of the limo to get on the ride. Again, the playfulness is refreshing… and arousing. I’m not really sure why, but Happy Ana makes me horny.
We stand in line with the other commoners trying to stay warm and snuggling with each other, giggling like teenagers and canoodling. We stand in line for about 20 minutes before we finally get to the front of the line, then we have to wait for the next ride as the family in front of us takes the last gondola. I pass the time nibbling on my wife’s ear and kissing her neck, making her giggle. Before we know it, we’re being directed to get into a gondola on the Ferris wheel—which is bigger than it looks, by the way.
We sit in the gondola and snuggle close to each other. The ride doesn’t start until all the gondolas are filled, but my giddy little drunk date is having fun waving at the people on the ground—none of whom can see her—and marveling over the view of the city.
“You behave as if you’ve never seen the city from this high before,” I say with mirth.
“Not from inside a little box! You can see part of the city from the Space Needle, but look,” she says gleefully while gesturing around the gondola, “it’s all around us!”
I can’t look at the city. I can only look at her. She’s finding such joy in this little thing and for some reason, it’s turning me on like mad! I think it’s the way that her eyes are twinkling, and her face is glowing. I know it would never happen because we’re so intense, but I would love to see her shining and laughing and happy like this when we’re making love.
The Ferris wheel makes a full revolution and I know that all the gondolas are full now and the ride is about to start. Just after the last gondola is closed and the wheel starts to spin, I turn to her and slip my hand into the split of her coat and between her legs, fondling her inner thigh.
Her eyes shoot to mine and she bites her lip, a coy smile playing with her mouth. My hand travels further up her thigh, avoiding her core but taunting the tender skin of her inner thigh just enough to drive her wild. Her breathing quickens as her chest rises and falls with her arousal.
“You’re missing the ride,” I caution. She looks past me out at the view, but only for a few moments before her gaze floats back to mine.
“No, I’m not,” she says seductively, and I catch her double meaning.
“You’re hot,” I inform her as if she didn’t already know.
“Yes, I am,” she concurs.
“Are you wet, too?” I ask.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” she taunts.
I move my hand up to her core and stroke the outside of her panties—only once.
“Yeah, you’re wet,” I croon. Her brow furrows.
“You know that from one touch?” she queries. I shake my head.
“No, I know because I can smell you,” I reply. I stroke her panties once more and she groans.
“Christian…” she whines. I’m tormenting her. I know I am, but if she only knew that she’s tormenting me, too.
“Remember when we fucked in Paris and I made you imagine the Eifel Tower?” I ask softly in her ear.
“Yes,” she breathes, her voice thick with arousal.
“What could you imagine now?” I tease, still gently caressing the outside of her panties, only just brushing her outer lips enough to cause a spark, but not a flame. “What could you imagine in this little box floating above the city… with me teasing the hot little lips of that sweet pussy?”
“I could… imagine…” She can hardly breathe, “… that we’re in some public place… like a theater or… or a Broadway show… or… Moulin Rouge… with all those beautiful, nearly naked women parading across the stage…”
“You’re teasing me… like this… under the table… You’re… you’re about to slip your hands into my panties… and caress my clit with your finger… and I have to keep quiet… I can’t let on what you’re doing…”
She closes her eyes when I give her that single stroke of my finger against her lips, still gently caressing the inside of her thigh.
“Keep going,” I coax, brushing my lips across her cheek.
“You pinch my clit and I nearly come,” she whispers, “but I have to keep still, and I can’t make a sound. Then you slip two fingers inside of me…”
I grasp the nape of her neck and slam my mouth against hers. She’s making me fucking primal, writhing in this little space and breathing heavily and talking about me finger-fucking her in a room full of people. And the way she talked about the burlesque dancers, like she coveted them… I saw her react that way once before, when we visited the BDSM club a couple of years ago and she touched the girl lying on the bar. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear my wife is bi-curious. And if I wasn’t such a jealous fucker, I’d gladly watch and partake in that scene—if I didn’t want to kill any fucker who touched my wife.
“Mmm,” I moan when our lips part, “I like the way you think.”
“You’re doing this to me,” she accuses in a sensual whisper, her eyes still closed. No doubt, she’s sitting at a table at the Moulin Rouge behind her eyelids.
“Concentrate,” I warn, “I don’t want you to miss the ride.”
“Fuck the ride!” she breathes. She throws her legs over mine and fists my blazer, kissing me with a passion that matches my own. Oh, good God, I’m on fire in this little box! I break the kiss and move my lips to the alabaster skin of her neck.
“Easy, Mrs. Grey,” I coax, reaching into her coat and gently stroking her pert, aching nipple outside of her dress.
“Oh, God, Christian, please,” she says squirming in her seat.
“Please, what?” I tease still feasting on her neck.
“Please, stop,” she breathes, “unless you’re going to fuck me right here and right now!”
I cover her lips with mine, pushing my tongue into her mouth and tasting her anxiousness mixed with the lingering flavor of the various alcoholic beverages she consumed tonight… and Ana—her own unique flavor that drives me out of my mind. God, what I wouldn’t give to have that pussy wrapped around my cock right now, or straddling my face…
“Oh!” We’re jolted from our make-out session by the surprised exclamation of the attendant after he opens the door of our gondola.
“Um… rides over. Sorry,” he says apologetically. My wife accepts his hand to assist her in exiting the gondola—a bit frazzled, but no worse for wear—with me right behind her.
“No problem,” I say. “It was an unforgettable ride.” I shake his hand and press a C-note into his palm. He looks down at the bill, preparing to protest, but I’m certain the denomination snatches the words right out of his mouth.
“I… um… thank you, sir,” he says, trying to maintain his composure.
“Have a good night,” I smile and help my wife down the stairs. Just as we clear the platform, I hear, “Do you know who that was?” I don’t need to turn around to know that we’ve been made. I scoop my wife up in my arms and walk with long but casual strides to the limo.
“Oh!” she yelps, drawing even more attention to us. “Christian, I can walk!” she giggles loudly, and I can’t help but love the playful, inebriated version of my Butterfly.
“I know,” I say, “and I want to carry you. Maybe I want to woo you a bit more.”
“Mr. Grey,” she says in a low voice, “in case you didn’t know, when it comes to you, I’m a sure thing.”
“And only me,” I clarify, raising a playful brow that elicits another giggle from my wife.
“Yes, Christian, only you,” she replies with a devilish smile before nuzzling into my neck. She plants soft kisses from my clavicle up my neck to my ear and deliciously licks my earlobe.
And my pants tighten again.
I try to concentrate on getting to the limo, which isn’t far away, but it feels like miles with her nibbling on and sucking my ear.
“Butterfly,” I warn, “I’m trying to get us to the car and you’re making my knees buckle.”
“Well then you better concentrate,” she replies, hot breath taunting my ear and her husky voice shooting straight to my cock.
“Dammit!” I hiss and pick up the pace. This woman is going to be the death of me. When I get to the car, the chauffeur—I still don’t know his name—opens the door for us. I gently place Butterfly on the ground, but she doesn’t release my neck. She takes my face in her hands and pulls me down to her. She kisses me gently, but deeply, exploring my mouth sweetly with her tongue and moaning softly in her chest. Dear Lord, I’m going to expire.
She slowly pulls her lips from mine and keeps her eyes closed for several seconds, like she’s still tasting the kiss after we’ve parted. Fuck, I know I am.
“I love you,” she says softly after gently fluttering her eyes open. She closes her coat around her and daintily climbs into the car.
Damn. My wife just seduced the fuck out of me with very little effort.
I inform the chauffeur—who I discover is named Julian—of our final destination before we head home and climb inside the limo with my wife. She’s sitting sideways on the seat that’s facing the door, eyeing me like a starving woman staring at a buffet.
I will not fuck her here…
I will not fuck her here…
I will not fuck her here…
But I’m going to come pretty damn close.
We’re tearing at one another shamelessly in this limo. My dick wants her so badly that I can barely think, but feast on her skin and even on her nipples through that thin ass dress without breaching the promised land. She whines and protests that she’s hot and she wants me, and I want her, too… in the worst way. Luckily, the limo stops and Julian knocks on the privacy glass in inform me that we’ve reached our destination. She’s flushed, and her hair is wild from us mauling at each other, but in a moment, all her playfulness leaves and she becomes keenly aware of our surroundings.
I open the door and get out of the limo, before turning around to retrieve her. She’s hesitant to exit the car when she sees where we are—the very spot where she nearly fell off the cliff while I was in Madrid—but I stand outside the door with my hand extended to her, wordlessly waiting. She takes a deep breath, takes my hand, and steps out of the limo.
The playfulness from before is gone now, and she tightens her belt and wraps her arms around herself as we walk to the lookout point. I don’t get too close; I don’t want anymore accidents.
She won’t get too close either. She stops several feet from the edge and won’t come any closer. I take my cue from her and move behind her wrapping my arms around her waist. We stand there wordlessly looking out over the cliff at the beautiful view for several minutes and I can feel her questions radiating through her body.
How did he know?
Why are we here?
Can we go now?
“I love you, Anastasia,” I begin. “I know I’ve probably said it a million times and I’ll say it a million more, but you’re my whole life. I know that I can be a particularly selfish asshole sometimes, and I can do some seriously boneheaded things. I’m sorry about that. I’m working on it, God knows I am, but I got a late start. I’m the proverbial old dog trying to learn new tricks.
“I may never get this completely right,” I say beseeching. “No matter how perfect I may want to be for you, for me, for the twins… I’m not. I never will be. I’m going to keep making stupid snap decisions and boneheaded moves and you may get hurt in the process. I swear that I’ll try to keep that to a minimum. I’ll do my best to think before I act; I’ll try very hard not to hurt you and especially make it my mission not to deliberately cause you pain, but Butterfly, I’m going to fuck up again… maybe many more times in life. Please… please don’t give up on me.”
I know I could have lost her that night that she nearly fell off this cliff, and even though I know that the logical part of her wouldn’t want to kill herself, wouldn’t want to leave the twins without a mother, I’m not 100% sure that the emotional part didn’t take over for just a nanosecond and declare that the pain and heartache was too much. Ninety-nine percent of me knows that my wife didn’t try to kill herself—but that one percent, that single iota of doubt that says, “Close your eyes and jump…” that’s the one terrifying thing for me right now.
“I know you’re not a perfect man, Christian,” she says, still looking out over the city and the water. “I’m not a perfect woman, either. I made some mistakes, some bad decisions… one of them was putting you on a pedestal. Don’t take it the wrong way, please, but it wasn’t fair to either of us. I held these superhuman expectations of you and when you didn’t live up to them… well, it nearly destroyed us both. I don’t know what to ask of you in this monumental moment. I can only ask the same thing that you are—understand that I’m flawed, and yes, I’m intelligent, but I don’t always make the right decisions. So… be patient with me and… forgive me for what I did to us.”
“What we did,” I correct her, tightening my grip around her. “We both made one bad decision after another, and it nearly cost us everything in more ways than one. This isn’t the worst thing that could happen to us, but it could have been.” She shivers.
“Yes… it could’ve.” She sighs deeply. “Please forgive me, Christian.”
“I’ve already forgiven you, Butterfly,” I reply, “a long time ago. Will you forgive me?” She turns around to face me and pushes her arms under mine, wrapping them around my waist.
“Yes, Christian,” she breathes, her guileless blue eyes looking into my longing grays. “I forgive you, and I accept and love you with every bit of your flaws—not in spite of them, but because of them. They make you human and worthy of love and forgiveness. And I give you those things freely.”
She squeezes me tight and lays her head on my chest. I can’t help the Tarzan feeling that comes over me, making me want to shield her from the world and all its evils. I kiss her hair and lean my mouth on her head, absorbing her warmth into me.
My life, my love… You’ll always be a part of me.
“Let’s go home, Butterfly,” I say, breaking the silence. “It’s getting a little chilly out here.” I break our embrace and take her hand, leading her back to the limo. Before we clear the lookout point, she turns around and looks at the view once more.
“It’s one of my favorite places again,” she says, looking longingly at it before following me back to the car.
“You wanna do what?” she asks disbelievingly.
“It’ll be fun,” I say with mirth, trying to be convincing.
“We have a playroom,” she says. “We fuck anywhere we can find a dark corner, and you bought a deck of sex cards?” she laughs incredulously.
“I thought it would be fun,” I tell her, “see how many positions we can get through before one of us blows.” She twists her lips.
“You know that’s not fair,” she complains. “You have more stamina than I do, and you know that and I’m tipsy on top of that. Plus, I got a head start with all that nipple play and necking.”
“On you think I didn’t?” I declare. “It took everything I had to keep my dick from exploding out of my pants all night long. Besides, that’ll make it more fun—having you ride my dick with that tight little pussy and I have to hold my orgasm until you come first.”
“Well, that won’t be hard,” she declares.
“It will if you try not to come,” I confess. “Do you know how hard it is to hold my nut when I’m watching you trying not to come?” My dick throbs with the confession… and it doesn’t get past her.
“You’re really not playing fair now,” she confesses as her eyes drag from my dick to my face.
“Who says I’m trying to be fair?” I declare. “I’m trying to have fun.” She smiles impishly and bites her lip.
“So how does this work?” she asks.
“We pick a card, hold that position for five minutes, then we pick another one.”
“So, we just fuck in the positions? No doing shit to deliberately try to make the other go over the edge first?” I shake my head. You’re not getting off that easy. Where’s the fun in that?
“Oh, no, Baby, this is full-on fucking. This ain’t ‘don’t touch me here,’ ‘don’t do that.’ Uh-uh, this is the same animal fucking we always do, only we change positions every few minutes and see how long we can last.” She pretends to ponder the idea, then she smiles again.
“Okay, let’s do it, then,” she says. I return her smile.
“Good. Take off those clothes.” I begin to get undressed as the delectable Mrs. Grey slowly begins to peel out of her clothes. I’m undressed in sixty seconds while this woman takes her time removing my grandmother’s priceless jewelry and setting it on the nightstand. She’s tormenting me, slowly undoing her suspenders from her stocking and rolling them one at a time of her luscious thighs and legs.
Her body does a snake-wiggle as she pulls her dress over her head, simultaneously turning to reveal her beautiful, garden-tattooed back and that luscious ass in those barely-there panties. She puts her fingers in the sides and teasingly pulls the panties down, keeping her thighs close so that the crotch catches in her pussy and has to snap a bit to release from their captivity.
My dick fucking hurts.
She slides her panties down her legs and steps out of them, leaving them provocatively on the floor right where they are. She fucking knows I want to pick them up and smell them. That’s why she did that shit. She reaches around and unclasps her bra but turns to face me before removing it. She holds it onto her breasts with alternate arms while she slowly slides the straps from each shoulder. Then she lifts her tits, gives them a firm squeeze, and when she removes her hands, her bra falls away with them. Her tits are sitting up so proud and perky, her nipples and areola so aroused and taut that they’re nearly red.
I’m ready to fuck you now.
I’m going to fuck you so long and so hard that we’re both going to be screaming for it to be over.
“So where do we do this… on the bed?” she asks seductively. I have a feeling that there’s going to be too much going on to be confined to the bed.
“Let’s go to the sitting room,” I say, suggestively. “More room on the floor and we have the loveseat if we need any… additional assistance.” She deliberately strolls in before me, twitching that round ass as she walks pass me. My dick is throbbing already, and I hope she holds out for a really long time, because I plan to fuck until my damn skin hurts!
I begin to shuffle the cards as I walk into the sitting room behind her. She leans on the chaise, looking at me expectantly while biting her lips.
“Would you like to cut the deck?” I ask, handing her the larger-than-normal deck of cards. My wife surprises me by taking the cards, cutting them,
and quickly doing a waterwheel before handing them back to me.
Is there anything this woman can’t do?
I take the deck from her hands and pull the first card. A smile immediately forms on my face.
“One of my favorites,” I say, showing her the card. She shrugs.
“It just looks like missionary to me,” she says, pushing off of the chaise.
“Oh, no, baby,” I reply. “This is the C.A.T. Let me show you the difference. Lie down.”
She obediently lies on the floor face up and I kneel between her legs. I set the deck of cards nearby with the timer next to it, but I don’t set it yet. My dick is already rock hard and ready, so I don’t need to dawdle. I take my time entering her and she gasps as I breach her opening, her skin flushing immediately. I slide in as far as I can go in this position and she squirms underneath me as her core wraps tight and warm around me.
“Shouldn’t you start… the timer now?” she gasps, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths of arousal.
“We’re not in position yet,” I say coyly before lowering myself down to her but supporting my weight on my elbows. “Knees up, feet on my butt.” She frowns a bit.
“On your butt?” she asks. I nod.
“You can do it. I know you can,” I coax.
“Before I do,” she says, breathing heavily, and I know she’s stalling, “tell me. What does C.A.T. stand for?”
“Coital Alignment Technique… now raise those goddamn legs,” I command her. She raises her knees as instructed and places her feet on my ass. This causes her thighs to fall far apart and I’m able to push further into her. She gasps and whimpers at the depth, but I’m sorry to say, Butterfly—that’s not the worst of it.
I bring my body as flat against her as I can without putting my weight on her and wiggle my hips a bit. My pelvis causes her lips to open so that I’ll have perfect friction and pressure on her clitoris with each stroke. She gasps and groans a bit when she realizes what’s in store. She’s arched and I’m flat, so although I’ll get great pleasure from the fuck, she’ll be getting much more stimulation than I will.
“Now, we’re in position,” I say huskily and start the timer. Reaching under her arms, I clasp my fingers in hers, pinning her hands next to her head and begin a slow, deep grind into her pussy and against that clit. The secret of this technique is to give her the best of both worlds—a good thrust and a solid grind so that neither part of that wet, throbbing peach is neglected. I only withdraw part-way and when I thrust into her, I grind each time to open that pussy and torment that clit.
Five minutes seems like a goddamn eternity as I’m watching her groan and suffer underneath me. Her body is trembling as she grasps my hands and her sex sounds are nearly unbearable. I cover her mouth with mine to capture her cries and the taste of her lips and mouth at the height of her arousal and she hungrily licks inside of my mouth, sending a jolt right to my dick and urging me to fuck her deeper and harder until…
I release one of her hands and reach for the deck of cards. The next position—swivel and grind. It’s the same concept as the C.A.T., only her legs are on my shoulders. I show her the card and she groans loudly.
“I’m gonna lose!” she laments loudly.
“Fight it, baby,” I coach her. “You can do it. Hold out for me.” I lean up and take her knees in my elbows, pushing her calves until her ankles are on either side of my ears.
“Fuck!” I hiss as my dick slides into that hot pussy again, now tightly wrapped around my cock as I search for the position that gives the deepest penetration. Without withdrawing from her, I snatch the bolster from the chaise and shove it under the small of her back, raising her ass and giving me a perfect angle on her pussy.
“Aah! Oh, God!” she cries, alerting me that I’ve found the right formula, and I reach over and set the timer again.
Oh, God, this is torture. Watching this sexy little nymph writhe in amorous agony beneath me while she’s fending off her orgasm, her clit so hard that I can feel it rubbing against the skin of my dick in this position—that shit is enough to send me over the edge by itself. I thrust and swivel and grind hard inside of her and against her, trying to bring that orgasm on and hoping that she continues to fight it at the same time. I can tell that she’s right there, even though we’ve only been at it for a few minutes, because I know how to bring my wife to orgasm very quickly, but she withstands the exquisite torment, her suffering written all over her face in her tightly shut eyes and gaping mouth, keening moans and whimpers escaping her lips more often than not.
“I’m going to come,” she breathes.
“Don’t, baby… don’t,” I choke as I continue to drill into her and grind against her, finding it difficult to withstand the pleasure myself. I keep pumping and grinding and digging and I swear she’s just about to tip over and give up the fight when her salvation rings in our ears.
I have to stop and let her legs down as well as move the pillow underneath her to reach the deck of cards, now a bit strewn across the floor in a messy pile. I don’t know which one is on top, so I just pick one closest to my hand. I look at the card, then turn it around to show it to her. She sighs heavily, and I suppose she thinks she’s going to get a bit of a reprieve, but alas, I’ll have to show her that there aren’t many positions where I can’t dominate that pussy.
This one is called Kneel and Deliver. I kneel, resting comfortably so that my ass is on my ankles or the floor and my hamstrings meet my calves, and she straddles me. It’s that simple, only my wife should know by now that I’ll still fuck her senseless in this position. Nonetheless, I get on my knees and allow her to get comfortable before I set the timer.
Then the real fun begins.
With her feet flat on the floor, she begins to ride me. I let her do that for a few strokes, then I put one hand under that ass for leverage—and my sheer enjoyment—and the other around her back for support and stability. Then I lift a little so that I can rise up into that pussy. I don’t immobilize her, I just take over, squeezing that ass and pumping up into that delicious wet pussy. We’re eye to eye now and her arms slide around my neck so that she can hold on. She looks at me mournfully as if to say, “Why are you doing this to me?” Because I love you and I love that pussy. Now, gimme those lips.
“Kiss me,” I order her. Her juicy lips press into mine and her tongue begins a hot exploration of my mouth. She can’t control the fuck, but she can control the kiss, and I let her. Her tongue is relentless, tasting me and pushing me higher and hotter with each lap. When she thrusts her hands into my hair and pulls, my ass rises off my feet a bit to get a deeper thrust to match my arousal. My hand clasps tighter on her ass and I’m now fully participating in the kiss, tilting my head so that I taste every bit of her mouth. Air can barely get between us and the only thing moving right now is our hips as we sex each other lusciously. My wife moves her feet so that they are supported on mine instead of the floor and the move somehow causes her to tighten against me. I feel her getting wetter as the friction and heat builds between us.
“Oh, baby…” I groan when her juices start to slide down my dick. I can see the scene in my mind’s eye where her greedy pussy slides down and laps her arousal from my cock, leaving a ring of it behind where the lips met the furthest point of my dick. The mental visual causes me to move both hands to her ass and hold her up, thrusting my hips up and my shaft deep into her as she continues to feast on my lips and whimper into my mouth. I’m feverishly chasing both our orgasms when…
Thank fuck! A few more seconds and we would have both been over the edge. Reprieve! Fucking reprieve… or so I thought.
I reach behind her, almost remiss to leave this succulent position, and grab the card closest to my hand.
Oh, hell… we’re both going to get it now.
I show the card to my wife and she’s so gone, she just gets into position. This one is aptly called The Butterfly. I remain on my knees and she lays back so that her shoulders are on the floor. This is one of the positions that I would use to edge myself inside of her, but not tonight. I’m going to fuck that pussy deep and sweet.
“Lock your ankles behind my neck and don’t let go,” I say, hearing the arousal in my own voice. Once she obeys, I grab those hips to stabilize them and begin that piston—low, slow, and deep.
“Aw, shit!” I hiss as the friction starts to burn in my dick. It feels so fucking good and now, I’m watching that pussy as it slides onto and releases my dick.
“So good… it feels so good…” I groan, quickening my pace only slightly and eliciting a low, slow moan from my wife. That’s it, baby. Feel it… feel what I’m feeling… it feels so goddamn good…
She’s arching her hips up to me, up to my dick, and I can’t help but reach down and thumb that pretty clit. Her legs begin to tremble, and she whines helplessly. A few seconds later, I see moisture escaping from her breasts. I reach up and massage the ample mound, my mouth watering to take it between my lips.
“So fucking beautiful,” I say as I squeeze her supple breast and a small amount of milk leaks from her nipple. I’m too far away to lick it clean, so I just spread it over her nipple until it shines. She rubs my forearms wherever she can reach them and arches her back some more allowing me to thrust deeper into her.
“No… no…” she whimpers, verbally trying to fend off her orgasm as her body spasms, indicating her imminent release. The sight is damn near too much for me. She is so fucking sexy, and these round hips and pulsing pussy are giving me a fucking workout. She’s determined not to blast too soon and I fucking love it! I love being able to fuck her and fuck her until I think I’ve had my fill, and then fuck her some more. She’s addictive… her mouth, her ass, her pussy, her body, all of her… fucking addictive.
“Christian,” she breathes, dropping her head back and surrendering to the pleasure. I’m elated and distressed at the same time to see her succumbing to her desire—elated because I love to see and feel her come around me but distressed because I don’t want it to end so soon. Five positions mean only twenty-five minutes. Maybe she’ll be ready for round two after this.
My wife is still writhing on my dick when I reach for the next card. I look at the card and…
“Fuck!” I hiss. I may lose this one. I pull out of her and stand, pulling her to her knees in front of me at the same time, reset the timer, and show her the card.
“Suck my dick!” I hiss, knowing that she’s about to punish me feverishly for the next five minutes for the drilling I’ve been giving her. She latches onto my dick like a plunger and begins feverishly and mercilessly working my cock.
“God! Damn!” I hiss as I grab her head and struggle to stay on my feet. I’m the one who said animal fucking like we normally do, so I can’t call foul now, but she is pulling and slurping and sucking so hard, deep-throating me and massaging me from my head all the way down my shaft to the base. She’s fucking me so hard that she’s not paying any attention to her own gag reflex and I see tears coming for her eyes for the effort as she hums along my cock.
And that shit is hot as hell.
She releases my dick with a pop
I grimace hard trying to keep the Dom at bay, but this is seriously some deliciously, sexy, fucking hot submissive shit. She’s on her knees, looking up at me, rolling my balls around in her mouth while my achingly hard and fat dick occasionally bops her in the face. I’ve never liked giving facials, but if she doesn’t stop soon, she’s about to get one. Just when I begin to feel like this is the longest five minutes of my life, the timer goes off.
“Grab a fucking card!” I nearly choke. You’re closer, so just grab one! She picks up a card without releasing my balls and shows it to me… and I can feel her smiling on my nuts.
“Oh, fu-uck!” I groan as I look at the picture and read the words.
Her mouth and tongue slide off my cock and I almost lose it.
“On the floor,” she commands. I drop to the floor and set the timer again as she quickly gets into position. I lean back, supporting my weight on one of my elbows while bending the opposite knee to turn my body slightly sideways. She slides between my legs, wrapping her arm around the thigh of the bent leg pushing her other arm under my body and bringing it back up around my hip so that her hand lays flat on my stomach. She looks up at me with predatorial blue eyes.
“Reset the timer,” she growls, “I haven’t started yet.”
Fuck! I reach over and reset the timer, bringing my eyes back to hers just in time to see her run her hot wet tongue from the base of my cock to the tip. The visual alone is enough to drive me up the fucking wall, but feeling her tongue slide up the vein that threatens to burst with hot semen any second draws a low and long, guttural moan from me.
“Baby, fuck,” I lament, and I can feel my face twisting into a horrible sex grimace as she torments my shaft again, up and down, up and down that vein, stopping to stimulate the frenulum until I’m ready to crawl backwards away from her. The next time she gets up to the head, she drops her whole mouth down onto my cock until I can feel the head in the back of her throat, and the gesture almost brings tears to my eyes.
“Aw, God,” I groan as my head falls back and I try not to push my hips into her mouth. She must have felt my resistance, because she intensifies her assault—as if she could—and I lose my battle to keep still. I begin to thrust into her mouth against her stroke and when I raise my head to look at her, she’s down on my dick and her hair is covering her entire head and face and part of my body.
Too much for my little fragile mind.
I cup her head with my free hand and try to guide her along my dick. I don’t have to; she has this all under control. So, I just leave my hand in place and watch her head bobbing in my lap while I stroke into her mouth, still sporting my sex grimace. It feels so good and I just sink into the sensation, sure that I’m going to lose this battle and love every minute of it. When I’m deep into the feeling of her mouth wrapped around my cock, I hear the timer go off again.
Yes! I’ll live to fight another five minutes!
But she doesn’t release my dick. She points to me indicating that I need to pick a card. I grasp wildly to the side of me trying to hold my nut and grab a card from the now completely disheveled pile.
“Oh, fucking hell! Is this a fucking conspiracy?”
She pushes her hair back as I hold the card up for her to see.
She actually laughs with my dick in her mouth and, like a fucking master, she releases my hip and thigh and rolls her ass around so that her pussy is perfectly situated on my mouth… without releasing my dick.
I married a fucking superfreak. Gimme that pussy!
I wrap my arms around that body, locking her against me at the small of her back and dive in. She gives me a sweet, seductive moan as her legs fall open more and her clit fits perfectly into my mouth. Fuck, yes, that’s what I’m talking about, a chance to get the upper hand…
… Or so I thought.
I lick into her sweet, succulent pussy and taste those delectable juices and it only makes me hornier and harder, and Mrs. Grey doesn’t let the opportunity slip by her. She already had me worked into “six seconds to blast off” before she put her pussy in my face. I already know my dick is jutting up into her face like a damn popsicle, and she’s taking full advantage of that shit.
She sucks that head like a delicious lollipop, causing quivers in my stomach and a heat to shoot from my groin to my head and my toes simultaneously. While I’m still trying to wow her with my awesome cunnilingus skills, she moves further down my dick, sucking only the top portion and the head, hard and continuous. She begins a slow roll of her hips into my face that actually causes my eyes to roll back in my head because her ass is so beautiful and it’s right here in my face!
I’m nearly having sensation overload when she moves a little further down my dick—no stroking, just holding it in her mouth and sucking hard. I can’t even describe this feeling! It’s hot and… damn, I can’t describe it. My arms move around her waist and I’m losing the battle to keep from stroking into her mouth, but I hold firm, and she continues to treat me with a perfect view of her ass while she grinds that tasty pussy into my face.
I think my entire dick is in her mouth now. If it’s not, it sure fucking feels like it. My legs lock involuntarily, and I need to move my hips. I can’t stand it anymore. It’s too much.
Before I know it, my hands are flat on the top of her back near her shoulders, pushing her upper body down onto my pelvis so that I can fuck her pus—er, I mean her mouth deeper, and she matches me stroke for stroke, giving me everything I need to get the deepest satisfaction possible…
And the timer goes off.
I can’t stop. I don’t stop. It feels too good and I’m too close. I hold her down. She can’t stop now. She tastes too good and I’m too fucking close. The oral portion of this exercise was too much for me.
She wraps her arms around my hips and pulls my thighs apart from the inside, indicating that she doesn’t intend to stop either. I could almost cry, I’m so relieved.
It feels like her stroke is deeper now that my legs are wide open and the air on my balls add a sensation that lets me know that it surely won’t be long now. I give that pussy one of my most passionate kisses in gratitude and she grinds down into my face, fucking my mouth with deep, even strokes.
If I’m honest, my wife is dominating me right now. She fucking owns this body and she knows it, and she wants to make sure I know it, too.
Believe me, Mistress, I know. I fucking know.
I release myself to her and stroke into her mouth, enjoying the sensation and allowing the orgasm to rise naturally. I don’t fight it and I don’t force it. I just feel it… just relax and feel what she’s doing to me…
“Mmm,” I groan into her pussy as my balls tighten and I know the explosion is imminent. My arms still wrapped around her body and my hands flat on her back, I fuck her mouth deep and she sucks me hard… harder… harder… until…
I don’t know how she holds it in, but I push my hips up against her mouth and she locks onto my shaft, only the suction of her jaws pulling the cum right the fuck out of me. She’s not moving her head or her lips, but that suction is murder and feels like it’s going to drain me dry. My thighs tremble with pleasure as I moan hopelessly against her clit, my entire pelvis locked in a burning, long-awaited, searing orgasm.
Oh, fuck, Baby, you are the best! You are the fucking best!
I can still feel my dick throbbing in her mouth, but when I know my orgasm has finally waned, I lock my arms around those hips and attack that pussy. She gasps on my dick but doesn’t release. I think she likes the throbbing in her mouth. That’s okay, Baby. I’m satisfied… for now. It’s my turn to make that pussy pulse.
I set to my task with unforgiving strokes, licks, sucks and ministrations, tasting that sweet juice as it slides down into my mouth.
She releases a high-pitched moan as she grinds into my mouth as much as my grasp will allow. That’s it, Baby, fuck this face.
Her wetness is increasing, soaking my face and her moans become more frequent and her grinds firmer and more intense. I keep that cowgirl on the saddle as I continue to lick that clit and suck that pretty pussy. She’s nearly sitting up now, using her hands on my torso to support her weight and rolling her hips on my face. The sex sounds coming from her are making my dick hard again and my only regret is that I can’t see her face or the movements of her body. I move one hand to her ass and squeeze hard, pushing her clit further into my mouth…
And she detonates.
The most beautiful feeling, flavor and sound in the world—my gorgeous wife pressing her pussy down into my mouth as I suck a rock-hard, wildly throbbing clit. The cry that she releases is somewhere between intense pleasure and pain, a slightly weeping sound that she must finally succumb to an orgasm that rocks the base of her soul, evidenced by the fact that as soon as the first wave is over, and she’s not immobilized by the pleasure, she breaks into the same violent sex trembles that I did moments ago. My face and lips are coated with her juices and her flavor has saturated every crevice of my mouth.
When she collapses on my stomach and her clit has softened, I release her pussy, gently kissing her inner thighs as she catches her breath. That was hot as fuck! Who knew that simple sex cards could result in some of the most explosive sex we’ve had! God, that was fantastic! The build-up, the sensation, the challenge, the pleasure, and finally the wild release. I’m lying here basking in the pleasure when my wife breathes three words that almost make me leap for joy.
“Pick a card.”
A/N: Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc., can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/raising-grey/
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