Fifty Shades Golden: Chapter 27

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.

Explicit details of sex and BDSM scenes from here on out. Some may be hot while others may not be to your taste… and not necessary CG with Ana together. Proceed at your own discretion, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.

This ain’t your everyday Christian and Ana story. Don’t expect anything. Just read it as it goes along or go away. 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 new saga continues…


Briana Evigan Ch 27


I sit in my room for several hours after I leave Trey’s… Christian’s apartment. I don’t know what to think or feel. He turned me away. I want to be angry, but I can’t. I can’t muster up the outrage that I should be feeling, or at least that I think I should be feeling. I want to be angry because of what he took from me.

He took the last word.

I leave them salivating for me. I leave them wanting me, craving me… I leave them aching for the Golden treatment. He obviously wants me, but he sent me away. He told me to leave.

You win—I’m in agony; I can’t take this anymore. You make me want you, but then you say I can’t have you. Then you go away, but you make me want you again. I can’t get you out of my mind. You’re in my blood…

Please, just go, Ana. Just go…

There’s a small satisfaction in knowing that they want you, that they’ll come crawling back to you, even if they know that you’ll push them away… more than small if I’m honest. There’s that knowledge that they want to come back that speaks to the sadistic goddess inside.

He took that away from me. I was there in his home, somewhat available, and he told me to leave. The nerve of him! Although, I guess I’m being a little selfish since the man just gave his sister a kidney and could have died, and I’m stewing over what he took from me.

Instead of concentrating on Christian and his denial, I concentrate on the things that fulfill me—beating the hell out of my clients; watching them suffer and begging to come and then making them explode all over the exhibition room. I often imagine Christian watching me, salivating and nutting all over himself because he can’t have me. I think about him more than I like these days and I even dream about him some nights… dammit.

In one such dream, I was telling him why he couldn’t have me. He was begging and begging, telling me that he would give me anything to make him mine…

“You’re never going to be able to change me,” I tell him. “You’ll never change who I am. You’re saying that this is what you want. This is what you want right now. You’ll want exclusivity. You’ll want me all to yourself. You’ll even want me to get rid of Blake and that’s never going to happen. You will not want me to do to other men what I do to you. You won’t want me to do to them what I do to them. The resentment will set in, and then the hatred, and soon, you won’t be able to stand the sight of me. Why do that to yourself? Why should we do that to each other? Why not walk away now after we’ve had a good run and some good times? Take the good memories that we’ve had and don’t ruin it. Nothing lasts forever, we both know that, so let’s quit while we’re ahead.”

Then, of course, I wake up knowing that he doesn’t want to see me, and the last time he saw me, he sent me away. That indescribable feeling comes back, and I end up beating the hell out of one of my clients again… with Christian watching in my mind’s eye. I’ve actually acquired three more clients in the last two months, one of whom bought me a pair of solid gold stilettos that I’ll never wear.

Shoes are supposed to have some give, people, or you can’t walk in them!

Anywho, I’m still Golden and at least that hasn’t changed.

In other news, there has been an arrest in Blondie’s case. Some miniscule piece of evidence pointed to one guy who, if he had me as his defense, wouldn’t have been fingered for the deed. However, I’m not prone to represent the guilty, not to mention he crumbled under interrogation and confessed to the crime, offering to give up his accomplices for a plea deal as he’s looking at 25 to life. Once his plea was carved in ink, he fingered two other hired killers…

And Linc.

That doesn’t surprise me. Once I saw how badly he beat her before running off to the Bahamas, I knew that he was capable of doing much worse. Once I heard that she had liquidated some of their portfolio to pay the lawsuit, I knew that act wouldn’t go without some kind of punishment. Did I expect her to be killed? No, but I did expect some kind of retaliation. Once I saw how she died, I fully expected Linc to have done it himself. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that he watched the whole thing.

Someone asked me if I felt any conviction over the situation. There’s the fact that the lawsuit was fabricated by me over something that didn’t really happen and that her death was a direct result of paying off that lawsuit. Had it been anyone else, I might have, but let’s look at the facts.

She stole one of my clients by lying to him because I wasn’t available.
She plotted against me to ruin me in the BDSM community by siccing Magic Dick on me.
When it didn’t work out the way she had hoped she threatened my life.
She blamed me for whatever did or didn’t happen to her crummy salons, causing me to hire security so that she didn’t attack me when my back was turned.
She ganged up on me with her frosted fuck creepy husband at the fundraiser a couple of years ago.

And that’s only what she’s done to me.

She broke Christian’s arm.
She falsely accused him of battering her.
Had one thing gone differently—any one thing—after she let him loose on me, he would also be in a wheelchair or dead from a bullet from my gun.

That woman was the devil, and you can’t feel sympathy for Satan.

For me, however, life is a bit… surreal, for lack of a better word. I still get off on my sadistic lifestyle. In fact, I need it now more than ever to maintain balance—but that word…


I feel like something is really missing from my life. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, and I refuse to accept that it has anything to do with Christian. He was a chapter in my life that is now closed, and I can deal with that. But besides that, nothing else has really changed. Yet, even with yoga, meditation, and my beloved sadism, I can’t really find the balance that I’m looking for.

In my search for balance, I’ve been spending a little more time with my family. I’ve put more pictures and keepsakes of Mommy and Daddy around the house, things that Aunt Sheila gave me after Uncle Richard died. It makes me feel so much closer to them and I’m very happy about that.

I also try to get to dinner at Aunt Sheila’s at least twice a month. She’s still dealing with Uncle Richard’s death and the fact that more and more has come out about the kind of person that he was since he passed. He was a faithful husband and family man—he just wasn’t a really good person.

One Saturday night, I agree to go with Tracy to a club in the old neighborhood. I’m definitely game for some dancing and a few drinks. So, I put on my Bodycon wine-colored party dress with a sexy side slit and my wine-colored fabric thigh boots and plan to hit the club in Tracy’s Kia. I should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy. We have to wait in line to get in and once we do, we head to a table of Tracy’s friends.

The eye-cutting begins immediately.

“I thought you said your cousin was coming,” one of the girls says accusingly. Tracy gives her a watch-it glare.

“This is my cousin,” Tracy says. “This is Ana.”

“Oh,” she replies popping her neck, and every last one of them turn their heads without addressing me.

Okay, it’s going to be this kind of night. That’s alright, I’m not looking for new friends. I’m looking to dance and drink.

I squeeze into the seat next to one of the girls, who blatantly turns her back to me. I roll my eyes and they rest on Tracy’s, who is sitting across from me. She’s talking to the girl sitting next to her and looking apologetically at me at the same time.

Well, this was a great idea, but I won’t spoil Tracy’s night. I turn my attention to the dancefloor and people watch.

“You look like you could use a dance.”

I’ve sat here for what feels like an eternity, but I know it was only a few minutes, when I look up to see where the voice is coming from.

Tall, dark, and handsome… and he wants to dance.

“I certainly could,” I say. I put my purse across my body, and he leads me to the dance floor. This is what I needed… just to be free and have a good time. I dance for four songs with the guy and as I’m leaving the dancefloor, he hands me a number. I smile prettily and thank him for the dance before I head back to the table.

“Somebody needs some deodorant,” the same girl says to no one in particular when I sit down. Then she turns away from me and sips her drink. Tracy is gone, and I assume she’s dancing. I know that I’m not emitting any odor because first, I am wearing deodorant and second, I’m not even sweating. So, I deduce that she’s just being catty and bitchy for no reason. I sigh again and mock her behavior, turning the other way, away from her and towards the dancefloor.

Tracy returns and the revelry begins at the table again—for everyone but me, that is—for a solid twenty minutes. Yet another gorgeous black guy comes and asks me to dance, and I oblige. The truth is, it wouldn’t matter if Quasimodo walked up and asked me to dance, I was leaving that table. Who wants to spend a night out with a bunch of bitter, angry women?

I dance for several songs, get another number, and head to the bar. I order a double shot of vodka and a glass of water. When the vodka comes, I throw it back quickly and take large gulps of my water. When a third dance partner approaches me—champagne skin and curly hair—I’m on the floor again.

I spend most of the evening on the dancefloor or at the bar—mostly on the dancefloor. I go to the ladies’ room to relieve myself and decide that it’s time to rejoin my party at the table, not that I want to.

“Oh, Jesus,” one of the other girls says. “She’s back.”

No, the hell I’m not. I’m a grown ass woman. I don’t need this shit.

“God, you guys are a bunch of really catty bitches! That’s embarrassing. She didn’t even do anything to you!” Tracy accuses.

“Because of her, nobody wants to dance with us!” one girl remarks. Well, that’s a crock of shit. I haven’t even been at the table most of the night.

“Well, I’m leaving, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I say, standing to my feet and grabbing my purse.

“Good!” she remarks. “Bye!”

“It’s not her fault that nobody wants to dance with you, Latrice,” Tracy says, standing as well. “It’s your fucking resting-bitch-face that chases them away. Jesus, if I can’t bring anybody around you guys, I don’t need to be around you either.” She puts her purse strap on her shoulder.

“Come on, Ana,” Tracy says, hooking arms with me, “let’s go get a drink… somewhere else!” We begin to walk away from the table.

“Uncle Tom!” one of the girls yells behind us.

“Fuck you, Allie!” Tracy yells back, flipping the bird behind her without turning around. We walk arm-in-arm out of the club and go to Tracy’s Kia.

“You didn’t have to leave your friends behind for me, Tracy,” I say as she starts the car.

“It’s been a long time coming,” she says, as she drives down the road. “It’s not like we were ride-or-die, anyway. They’re unhappy and they find fault in everything. Only one of them is actually doing something to make changes in her life and that’s Vershawna. The rest of them just complain about where they are. Yeah, we’ve been friends for a long time, but you can only deal with that shit for so long. I’ve grown out of it. They’re still stuck in it.”

“It could also be because I’m white,” I say, stating the obvious.

“That’s what it is this time,” she admits. “Tomorrow they’ll see somebody with the wrong color hair, with a skirt too short, with too many kids, you name it. If they can find something wrong with the world, they will. It’s time out for that shit.” I shake my head and look out the window.

“What is it, Ana?” she asks.

“I’ve met a lot of people in my lifetime,” I begin, “from a lot of different nationalities and backgrounds. My father was black. I grew up in a black neighborhood. Most of my pro bono cases are young black boys that just deserve a break. My yoga instructor is black, my receptionist is black…”

“And you’ve said that you’ve met a lot of different nationalities, but so far, all you’re talking about is black,” Tracy points out.

“And there’s a reason for that,” I say. “I’ve met people from many walks of life, and I don’t treat anybody any differently because of it. Why is it that black women—particularly in social situations—dislike me so much? I get the whole concept of racism; I haven’t lived under a rock for the last 34 years, but this is more than that. This is I shouldn’t be seen with a black man; I shouldn’t visit the areas I grew up in… and it’s not all black people! It’s black women. And it’s not all settings—it’s in a club or a restaurant. They don’t give a fuck if I’m at the grocery store, it’s just if I’m having dinner with Kevin, or dancing with Darryl, or riding Fuckboy Jake’s bike! What the fuck is that?”

I’ve raised my voice louder than I intended and Tracy has fallen silent. I cross my arms like an errant child, certain that I’m not going to get an answer, but Tracy starts talking.

“It would take me way too long to explain that to you, Ana,” she says calmly, “but that’s not going to change. It comes from a long line and centuries of oppression and discrimination, and I think you know that. What you’re getting from black women is what black people have experienced from white people since well before you and I were gleams in our daddies’ eyes. The hatred that comes along with that has been passed down through the generations. Among the many, many other intolerances among the races, the vast majority of black women in many areas have a staunch intolerance of white women with black men. Remember, it’s only been about 50 years or so since the races could legally interact that way.

“The world is slowly changing, I know, but not everybody is changing with it—on both sides of the fence, for that matter. You never met our grandfather, did you?” I furrow my brow.

“No, I don’t think I did,” I reply.

“That’s because he went to his grave pissed at Uncle Ray for marrying Carla,” she says. I didn’t know that, but I vaguely remember something like that happening on Mommy’s side of the family, which is why I ended up with Uncle Richard and Aunt Sheila. I sigh and shake my head.

“So, I guess I’m just supposed to stay on my side of the bridge, then.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“You cross the bridge whenever you want,” Tracy replies. “That’s the only way to combat this kind of shit. Just don’t be surprised when people aren’t willing to cross that bridge with you.” I twist my lips. This isn’t new, I was just looking for some grand reason that black women hate me so much. There’s none. It’s the same reason they hated Mommy for marrying Daddy, and it’s not going to change.

“You hungry?” she asks, breaking my chain of thought. I look over at her and nod.

“Famished,” I reply.

“What do you have a taste for?” she asks.

“Greens and cornbread,” I say, without hesitation.

Eric Dane 27


I gave up a goddamn kidney; now my mother is going to have to speak to me.

It’s been months since the operation and even Dad has come by to see me. I’ve finally gotten the clearance from the doctor to resume activities as usual, and now, I’m going to my parents’ house to put this radio silence to rest.

I’m getting everything together and I’m looking for my phone, but I can’t find it. Where did I toss the damn thing? I look on the nightstand and see that the top drawer is partially opened. I open the drawer and there’s my phone.

How the fuck did it get in there?

I take it out and swipe the screen to see if I missed any important calls or texts. Just beyond the phone, I can see what else is in that drawer. It’s the handkerchief I used to wipe Golden’s lipstick away when she kissed me.

I run my thumb over the lipstick stain. She’s gone now, so I can admit that I had started to care for her. Maybe she’s right… maybe this is best. My first instinct is to put the handkerchief in the laundry to rid it of the memory of her, but then I’d look at every handkerchief I own and wonder if it’s the one. Instead, I take it to the kitchen and toss it in the trash.

The housekeeper lets me in at my parents’ house and tells me that Dad is out in the back and Mom is in the dining room. For some strange reason still unbeknownst to me, I decide to go and talk to Dad first. He’s sitting in a lawn chair facing the lake. He’s not looking left or right, just straight in front of him, like he would run out there and jump in the water and never return. Mom must not be talking to him either.

“Coming out for a father and son talk, are you?” he asks. He doesn’t look over his shoulder, so I don’t know how he knows who’s walking up to him or even if it’s me or Elliot. He’s quite maudlin and he looks like shit. He’s got a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, but I can tell that he’s not drunk.

“I’m just making sure that you’re not out here contemplating suicide,” I say as I take the seat next to him. “I’ve never seen you like this, even when you and Mom broke up.” He turns to me.

“Concerned, son?” he asks, his voice laced with irony.

“Yeah, about my mother,” I reply matter-of-factly. He scoffs and takes a sip of his drink.

“I could die tomorrow, and you wouldn’t care,” he says, looking out over the lake. “You wouldn’t shed one goddamn tear.”

“And whose fault is that, Dad?” I ask. He turns an angry glare to me.

“You’re saying this is all my fault?” he asks incredulously. “You blackmailed me into showing you the BDSM ropes—pun intended—and you’re saying that this breakdown is all because of me?”


“No, Dad, I’m not saying that,” I cede. “We both burned that bridge, but you kept throwing kindling on the fire for years and you know it.”

I don’t turn my gaze from him. I’m waiting for his rebuttal, but I know that he has none. He turns back to the lake.

“I hope my grandkids give all of you as much hell as you’ve given me,” he laments quietly. I scoff.

“What grandkids?” I ask, incredulously. “I’m 36 years old with no desire to have any children. Mia just got a new kidney—so that’s not happening any time soon if at all. And if you’re putting your hopes and dreams in Elliot to carry on the family name, good luck! He’s pushing 40 with a girl in every fucking port, and unless he’s got some illegitimates somewhere, sorry Dad, but this branch of the Grey family tree is dead.” He sighs.

“Well, that’s depressing,” he complains. “Looks like I’ve failed at everything.”

I shake my head. I can’t feel sorry for this man. He’s deliberately deceitful and the only time I’ve ever seen him exercise honesty and scruples is on the bench.

“I don’t know what you expect,” I say after a long pause. “I don’t know how long you were in the lifestyle during your marriage, and I’m sure Mom doesn’t either, but as soon as she found out and the bottom fell out from under your life as a husband, you stopped being a father. I’ll take what happened to our relationship because of how I held that whole thing over your head, but what the hell happened to Elliot? He finished college; he had the education; he was on the right track. What they hell happened?”

My father finally throws a glare at me.

“Yeah, you know,” I say nodding. “That’s what you do. Ever since you lost your woman, you wanted everybody to be as miserable as you. So, you went on this campaign to get everybody under your thumb. I don’t know how that served you, but you did it to the point where you had something on everybody. Me and BDSM—yeah, that’s a taboo lifestyle and it could cause some damage in certain circles, not to mention that it certainly was going to hurt Mom. Elliot and cocaine, and whatever the fuck else you’ve got hanging over his head, well, that goes without saying. But Mia, Dad? You were holding her hostage through dialysis? Seriously?”

“I wasn’t holding her hostage,” he defends.

“The hell you weren’t!” I retort. “I understand not wanting to put Mom through any undue stress, but something you said along the way scared the shit out of Mia about telling Mom what was going on, and I saw it in her face. Mom should’ve known what was going on with Mia. It was going to come out one way or another and she was fucking blindsided when it was. You thought that was the better option? You’re the fucking parent, Dad. Did you lose all of your paternal instinct when you were swinging that fucking whip at Bunny?”

My father doesn’t answer.

“Mia had another reason for not telling Mom about dialysis and I’m going to find out what it was, but you—you were just plain selfish. Whatever imagined power you thought you had, you’ve lost it all, and now you’re sitting out here concerned again that you may have lost your woman. Since you’ve forsaken everything to keep her and she’s probably all you’ve got left, you might want to get your shit together and figure out how to make this up to her.”

I turn my gaze to the lake. It’s beautiful with the evening sun glistening off it. I get lost in its peace for a moment.

“It was this bad,” he adds. I frown.

“What was?” I ask.

“Breaking up with your mom,” he says. “It was worse, you just didn’t see it.” He looks out at the lake and takes another sip of his drink, his eyes glazing over.

“I never wanted to die before, but without her, I did. I wasn’t suicidal, I just wanted the pain to stop. It was the worst pain of my entire life. I swear there was nothing else to live for… nothing.”

Gee, thanks, Dad.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, without turning his gaze to me. “Not five minutes ago, you confirmed that you wouldn’t bat an eye if I dropped dead in front of you.”

“I didn’t say that,” I protest.

“You didn’t have to,” he retorts. “It doesn’t matter, though. It’s my bed and I have to lie in it.” He’s quiet for a few minutes.

“I’m going to talk to Mom,” I say, standing from the seat. “If she’s not going to speak to me, she’ll have to do it to my face. Get your shit together, Dad,” I say as I walk back to the house. Mom is standing at the French doors with a glass of wine in her hands as I approach.

“You and your father talking. There’s a twist,” she says, sarcastically. “Then again, you have so much to share!” Okay, I had that coming.

“All I can say is that I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t openly lie to you, but I wasn’t totally truthful. I can tell you this about me, though—about all of us. Each, in our own way, was trying to spare you more discomfort. You had been through hell with Dad and we saw that. We watched you suffer and whatever we may feel about each other, we all love you very much. You’re the only reason why we tolerate each other’s presence when it’s time to come together when we’d much rather not. Mia’s a spoiled nagger, Elliot’s an asshole, I’m a cocky motherfucker, and Dad’s a snake…” Mom throws a chastising glare at me.

“I’m sorry for my language, and you may love him, but we both know it,” I say frankly. “But we all love you, and we wanted to spare you as much pain as we possibly could.” She turns back to her wineglass.

“After what your father put me through,” she begins, “I don’t know if I can forgive him for keeping this many secrets from me.” She takes a swallow of her wine and walks back into the dining room. So that’s why he looks so damn miserable. I follow her and join her at the table.

“Do you love him, Mom?” I ask.

“Of course, I love him!” she says, her head snapping to me. “That’s why he’s still here!”

“Then, you’ll forgive him,” I say. “And he’ll fuck up again, and you’ll forgive him, then, too… as long as he doesn’t do any big shit, again—then I’ll have to come and kill him.” I think she scoffs a laugh, but her face doesn’t change. “You know what they say about the road to hell, Mom. We all had the best intentions, even though none of us executed the best strategy.”

I don’t tell her that I really believe that Dad was keeping the secrets because he wanted to later use them as leverage. For what, I don’t know, but unless he has more ammo on my sister and brother, his well is empty.

“Why did you keep this from me, Christian?” she asks sadly. “Your secrets were the most painful.”

“Why mine, may I ask?” I say.

“You said it yourself, Elliot is a fuck-up,” she says. “I don’t know what he’s into—except cocaine now—but I know it’s nothing legitimate. Whatever he’s doing, he has that snaky, slimy look about him. And the women he brings around—why would you bring any of these women to your parents’ home? I’m preparing myself to hear some terrible news about him, and I can only hope it won’t be the very worst, but I expect for something to be deceitful about him.

“And Mia… well, Mia, I don’t know. Was she really trying to spare me, or did she have that whole stupid ‘I can do this on my own’ attitude that she has about nearly everything else? How the hell did she think she could go through this for seven years and we not find out? There’s no other way this could have ended except for her in a body bag.

“But you,” she shakes her head. “You’re into that same shit that your father was in, that nearly tore our family apart and how do I find out? From the cocaine addict who was simply trying to pull other people under the bus with him. But what you did with your kidney was worse.” I frown.

“How?” I say, my voice squeaking. I saved Mia’s life!

“Because you could have died!” she shoots. “Is that how you wanted me to find out you gave Mia a kidney?”

I don’t dispute her. My portion of the surgery was much easier than Mia’s. It was mostly done by laparoscope. It was the whole swinging-crutches-at-people-losing-my-shit thing that caused complications. And the press must’ve really been spooked, because I haven’t seen one picture of us or heard anything about the surgery even in the gossip rags.

“I’ll start with the first question,” I begin. “I didn’t tell you about my sexual lifestyle because of your history of it with Dad, but tell me, Mom. Is that the only reason why you’re appalled by the BDSM lifestyle?”

“I’m appalled because I’ve seen what they do!” she shoots.

“You haven’t seen everything, Mom,” I correct her, “I can guarantee it. If you’ve Googled anything, you’ve probably seen the grittiest that there is to see, and that’s not all there is to the lifestyle. You probably don’t want any BDSM lessons, and I don’t blame you because of what you’ve been through. But you can’t judge what you don’t know, and if you do that to me, you’re judging me for participating in a lifestyle that may be off the beaten path a bit, but is completely legal and based on the concept that every activity is safe, sane, and consensual. It’s no different than being homophobic or discriminating against someone because they’re transgender, or black, or physically disabled, or different than you in any way. And that would make you wrong, Mom.” Her eyes widen.

“How so?” she asks horrified.

“If Dad cheated on you with a Mexican woman and you discovered that I was marrying a Mexican woman, would you be angry with me for that?” I ask. She’s still stunned. “How about a vegan? Would you hate all vegans if Dad cheated on you with a vegan? What if he turned out to be bisexual and he cheated on you with a man—would you disown me for being gay?” Her face falls impassive.

“It’s the same thing, Mom,” I tell her. “You’re not attracted to women; you eat meat; you married a white man… and you don’t practice BDSM, but you can’t put those of us in judgement who do. This…” I pause and point at her, “is why I didn’t tell you.” She closes her eyes and I can see them rolling behind her eyelids.

“You’re… going to have to give me some time to deal with this,” she says. “In the meantime, I would really rather not know about any of your escapades.”

“Tell that to Elliot,” I say matter-of-factly. “You would have never known about any of it if I had my way.”

“Then, you still would have been lying to me,” she points out.

“But you don’t want to know, so where do I win in this?” I ask. She thinks about it, then changes the subject.

“What about Mia’s kidney?” she says. “We already knew that she needed one. There was no need to lie about it.” I sigh.

“Well, I told you that in the hospital, but I also suspected that Elliot was doing something—like what he was doing—that meant that he couldn’t donate a kidney. I was trying to avoid what happened, but it happened anyway, so that was all for nothing.

“Elliot has made some really fucked-up choices and he hates that he’s not in the spotlight. Anytime that spotlight gets turned on me, he finds some way to make it a bad thing. When he thought I was leaving town for Mia’s surgery, he was talking shit then. When he found out that I was the one who gave her the kidney, he was talking shit then. Mia was upset with me for shit that she really felt was my fault. Elliot was just fucking pissed because he couldn’t be ‘the golden boy,’ as he calls me. Do you realize that I was in a lose-lose situation all around?” She holds her head down. She’s clearly suffering from information overload.

“Christian, I love you,” she says, calmly. “You’re my baby boy, but if you keep another secret like this from me again, I’ll never forgive you and I may not survive it. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

“Are there any other secrets?” she asks.

“That woman they found dead last year, Elena Lincoln—the one who threw a potted plant at me and broke my arm?” My mother’s brow rises.

“Yes?” she says expecting.

“We had an affair years ago,” I confess. She waves me off.

“Oh, I knew that,” she says.

“How did you know?” I ask, my brow furrowed.

“That woman found the strength of Hercules and hurled a concrete pot at you. No woman causes that kind of damage to a man unless it’s self-defense or she’s known him Biblically,” she says. “Hell hath no fury…” I shrug.

“Then unless you want to know the details of my BDSM lifestyle, no, I have no other secrets.” She silent for a moment.

“Do you whip those women?” she asks.

“Do you really want to know?” I’ll tell you, but it’s all or nothing, Mom. She shakes her head.

“I don’t want to know,” she says, shaking her head. I stand, lean over and kiss her on the cheek.

“I love you, Mom,” I say. “Forgive me for my half-truths and omission lies.” She looks into her glass of wine.

“I’m working on it,” she says. That’s all I can ask. I walk through the dining room and head to the stairs to go check on Mia, who has been at home with Mom and Dad since the surgery. As I bend the corner, I see my father has come back into the house and is standing at the French doors.

“Don’t hurt my mother again,” I tell him. “I meant what I said.”

“You didn’t tell her that I was the one who introduced you to the lifestyle,” he says. His voice is defeated, but it could still be a veiled threat.

“Do you want me to tell her now?” I shoot. You’re not holding this over my head anymore.

“I just wanted to know why you didn’t tell her,” he asks, raising weary eyes to me. I sigh inwardly.

“I did tell her,” I say. “I didn’t blurt it out like a general public service announcement, but in so many words, I told her—and Dad, I think she already knows…”

“You can stop your sorry attempt at murmuring! I know!” Mom yells from the dining room. I twist my lips at my father.

“She knows,” I say sarcastically. “Don’t. Hurt my mom again.” I walk past him towards the stairs.

“Get your ass in there and grovel,” I add without looking back at him.

Briana Evigan Ch 27 2


I’m standing in front of the ominous glass building, Grey House, trying to get the nerve to go inside. I’ve stood here many times before over the course of the past several months, never once daring to go inside. What the hell would I say to him? Why am I even here?

I know why I’m here… because I can’t get him out of my mind. We have unfinished business, but hell if I know how to finish it. He haunts my dreams when I’m asleep; he haunts my thoughts even when I’m with another client… another client. He’s not my client anymore. There’s absolutely nothing between us.

“Fuck,” I say, losing my nerve like I’ve done a million times before and turning to the parking structure.


I turn towards the voice calling my name and there he is, walking down the street towards his building with Taylor close behind him… and now towards me.

Oh, shit.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. He raises his brow.

“This is my building,” he says, stating the obvious. I roll my eyes.

“No, I mean, what are you doing out here instead of up there?” He twists his lips. I’m positive that he wants to say none of your business, but he doesn’t.

“I was having lunch with a friend,” he says matter-of-factly. “What are you doing here?”

“I work downtown,” I say, a bit indignantly.

“No, what are you doing here?” he says, pointing in front of him and using my words against me. I don’t have an answer. I never got pass the point of meeting him face to face. I never came up with the magic Golden speech to give the poor suffering subject once I met him. So… here I am.

He reads my silence and puts his hand in the small of my back, effortlessly guiding me into the parking structure of his building. Is he sending me away again?

I soon find that he’s just moving us off the sidewalk and away from prying eyes. Taylor disappears somewhere as we walk to a secluded corner of the garage.

“What do you want, Golden?” he asks his voice low. Oh… Golden… we’re here again. I gird myself for the conversation ahead.

“I want to know why you sent me away,” I ask, the truth rushing out of my mouth before I have the chance to catch it.

“For the same reason that you sent me away,” he replies. “I couldn’t deal with it.”

“I never said I couldn’t deal with it…” I begin.

“Are you serious?” he interrupts. “You didn’t have to. Actions speak louder than gold and you made it perfectly clear that you were having all kinds of problems with everything happening between us. Your wiring short-circuited because of the kiss, and you went completely radio-silent after we had sex. You really think you needed to say you couldn’t deal with it?”

“Look, Christian,” I say, looking around the parking structure to make sure no one is around, “the only thing I was looking for is the respect that a Mistress is due!”

“I never disrespected you!” he retorts quietly.

“The hell you didn’t!” I counter angrily. “You showed up unexpected at my home and had the nerve to question me about a conversation that you shouldn’t have even been privy to! Any other time, there was a protocol when you left—it was how we operated. And you get all sensitive when I reacted the way that a Mistress would the next time I had you in my dungeon!”

“I was not your submissive!” he hisses. “I never will be!”

“And yet you and your kisses and your sex are supposed to change me?” I bark.

“Why do you keep saying that I’m trying to change you?” he demands. “I never gave you that impression! Not once! I can’t make you not be who you are any more than you can make me not be who I am. The only difference is that I didn’t know who I was until I got the full spectrum. One woman couldn’t satisfy me, because one woman couldn’t give me what I wanted—what I needed! Even after you beat the hell outta me, I needed to fuck… hard!

“Do you have any idea how many women I’ve fucked to your face? How many times I came into some deep, hot, tight orifice seeing you the entire time? It didn’t matter to me that you got some poor sucker off the day before or that you were getting him off right there and then. What mattered was that I was blasting the rocket’s red glare and I was seeing you! I was feeling your flogger on my back, smelling your smell, seeing your tight body and imagining that it was you wrapped around my cock! And then when you finally gave me what I wanted—sweet Jesus! I had hit Nirvana. Then you cut me off like a kid asking for a lollipop the day after Halloween… completely! Without a word. You and those fucking games! I can’t take those fucking games anymore!” He throws his hands up in the air. “Why am I even telling you this? It’s not like you fucking care!”

“Because I do care!” I yell at him. “I don’t want to, but I do! I don’t want to change who I am… who I was… but nothing makes sense anymore. I’m nothing like who I used to be. I can go through the motions. I can inflict the pain. I can make them come… but I’m not who I used to be! It’s not the same… something is missing. Something’s not right…”

I’m still a sadist and I’m still a Dominatrix, but I’m just not who or what I was. I simply can’t wring the pleasure from the experience that I used to… and I know why. Son-of-a-bitch, I know why. I don’t want to admit it and the words are ripping a hole in my chest, fighting to get out. They won’t be denied. I shriek in anger as I spew the confession burning in my throat and chest.

“Goddammit!” I sob. “Elena was right! She was right! You have spoiled me for other men! I’m ruined! I’ll never be the same! I’ll never fucking be the same! Damn you, Elena Lincoln! Damn you straight to hell! And damn you, too!” I yell at him as I make a B-line to my Range Rover. I dream about this man. I want this man. I can’t function properly without this man! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?



She’s running away… again! She’s basically told me that she can’t live without me and now, she’s trying to run again.

I’m behind her before I can stop myself. I reach her right before she gets to her truck and snatch her back into my arms. She’s still weeping when I cover her lips with mine, branding her lips with a searing kiss. They’re salty and soft and irresistible, and when she wraps her arms around me and returns the kiss, I back her against her truck and press my body into hers, taking all of her that I can in case she gets away.

What the fuck am I doing? Why the fuck am I even doing this to myself? Because she’s goddamn addictive, and now that I’ve had her, I can’t think of anything else!

“I love you and I hate you!” I seethe as I bury my face in her neck. “Why do I let you do this to me!”

She’s still sobbing as I take mouthfuls of her flesh, tasting her everywhere my lips can reach, her weeping only ceasing when I take her lips.

“Why don’t you turn me loose?” I question against her lips, my hand thrust in her hair and holding her captive as I reposition my lips and feast on her neck.

“I… can’t!” she chokes. “I tried… I… keep trying… I can’t!”

Her hands thrust into my hair and I kiss every part of her that I can reach, fighting not to ravish her right here in the parking lot.

Breathe, Grey, breathe. Think about this. Think about what you’re doing.

I close my eyes and press my forehead against hers and we’re both panting like marathon runners, her breaths mingled with tearful whimpers.

“What are we supposed to do with this?” I breathe fiercely.

“I… don’t know,” she says in a sobbing voice. “I’m out of my element here.”

“I can’t take your fucking games, Ana,” I admit, my voice still harsh while I hold her close to me. “You’re hot for me one minute and the next minute, you’re cold, aloof, and invisible.”

“I know, I know,” she says, her voice helpless.

“I’d rather you walk away from me forever than to keep me on that goddamn rollercoaster. Let me go and let me get you out of my system… out of my blood!” I squeeze her harder with every word, my fingers digging into her body.

“No… no… please…” Her fingers tighten in my hair and I slam my lips against hers again, our teeth clashing together as our tongues hungrily search for each other, driving fiercely into each other’s mouth and devouring unspoken words.

I told her I loved her. Did I mean that? Did I mean that I love her or that I love what she does to me?

I break our kiss. We need to talk. We can’t do this here… none of this.

“Meet me at my penthouse,” I breathe raggedly against her lips. “Twenty minutes. We have to… work this out.”

She quickly nods at me with wide, glassy, brown eyes. I take a deep, ragged breath and release it before I let her go. I turn away from her and walk to the elevator, thrusting my hands into my hair on the way. What the fuck am I getting myself into? Wouldn’t it just be simpler to send her the fuck away? She’d just come back… like she did today.

“Ana?” I say, turning to face her. She hasn’t moved from her spot, but she quickly raises her head to look at me.

“Don’t play with me,” I say finitely. “If you’re not there when I get there, I’ll never see you again.” I mean it. I don’t have time for her games. She nods at me with a tearful sniffle.


About 45 minutes after I leave Ana in the parking garage at Grey House, I arrive at the lobby of Escala. I don’t know why I waited so long. I think I was just stalling, certain that she was playing with me again and that she wouldn’t be there—that she was stringing me along with her Golden lasso like Wonder Woman, leaving me totally helpless to her powers once again.

When I exit the elevator from the parking garage and walk into the lobby, she’s sitting there waiting for me, watching the front of the building like she expects me to walk in the front door. I guess she did.

“Ana,” I call out firmly to her. Her head snaps in my direction and she stands immediately. Her stride doesn’t have that confidence that I’m accustomed to. She’s not weak or anything, but that edge isn’t there. That edge that I love and hate.

Love and hate.

When she reaches me, I take her hand and wordlessly head to the elevator. Jason is already in the penthouse having gone up before me. So, she and I ride silently to the penthouse. The air is so thick in the elevator, you can hardly breathe. I stare at her while she stares at the numbers above us, rising to indicate that we’re headed for the top floor. When the bell rings and the doors open, she’s gotten a bit of her stride back and she slowly walks into the foyer. I follow behind her, reaching around her to open the doors of my penthouse.

She takes a deep breath and walks inside, immediately placing her purse on the sofa closest to the door. It’s the middle of the afternoon and my apartment is a ghost town—nobody expects us to be here.

I close the door behind me and walk over to her. She has her back to me and I total intend to ask if she wants something to drink for our talk, but she turns around and looks up at me, lips parted, brown eyes wide and wanting.

Shit! Fuck now, talk later.

I gather her in my arms, lifting her off the floor before she has the chance to think or protest. I burn her lips with a passionate kiss as I hurriedly carry her to my bedroom. I kick the door closed and place her feet on the floor. We stop kissing only long enough to remove our respective suit jackets and shirts. She quickly tugs at… something, and her hair releases from a tight bun and cascades down her back.

Fuck. I need her now.

She’s back in my arms and I’m undoing her skirt as she loosens my belt and unzips my fly. Both pieces of clothing fall down our legs and we each step out of them and our shoes, leaving them in mounds on the floor.

Lifting her in my arms again, I carry her to my bed, still hungrily devouring her kisses and I sit on the edge, forcing her to straddle me. I feel the heat of her core between us and my cock is hardening fast. I reach under her hair and unhook her bra, causing her breasts to spill out freely. I take one of her nipples into my mouth, taunting, teasing and tasting it. She gasps and drops her head back. I put my hand into the small of her back, holding her down onto my erection as I tease her nipple to tautness.

She whimpers loudly, the ends of her hair brushing my hand as I immobilize her against my body, against my cock. I put my other hand flat on her spine, move my mouth over to the other nipple, and begin to grind into her, against her exposed clit through her silk panties. She gasps loudly and thrusts her hand into my hair. She tries to move, but I have her firmly pressed against me, burning that clit with my rock-hard cock.

I’m going to make you come, Ana.

With nowhere to go, she drops her head back again and settles in for the ride. I suck her nipples hard, occasionally giving one or the other a gentle nip. Her whimpering becomes wheezing and her grip on my hair tightens. Moments later, her body stiffens and she’s crying out her orgasm. Her stiffening body begins to tremble as I continue to grind into her, squeezing out every single pulse of that clit. When her legs tighten against my thighs and she falls shivering against my body, I know that she’s had enough.

I stop my ministrations against her and lay her panting body on the bed. I remove her panties, suspenders and stockings all in one slow but efficient motion, tossing them in the mound of clothes we’ve created next to my bed. Giving her a brief moment to catch her breath, I remove my boxer briefs and socks, and they join the pile as well. I crawl back onto the bed and settle between her legs, the smell of her sex juices assaulting my senses. I use my nose to separate her lips and inhale deeply, blowing gently on her clit when I exhale. Her back bows and she grabs handfuls of the bedsheet.

I won’t make her cum again this way, but I’ll get her good and ready.

I am merciless on that clit. I mean, I am seriously porno-licking this pussy. Saliva is mixing with her juices from her orgasm and dripping down to her asshole. I use my fingers to spread the juices to her lips and tease her opening as my tongue torments the tip and underside of her clit. She nearly growls with pleasure as she arches into my mouth.

“Ah! Ah!” she cries as I fuck her with my tongue and suck her cunt until she’s trembling on the bed. I eat that pussy until her cries change and become high-pitched, then I crawl up her body, pushing her legs open with mine. I entwine my fingers into hers and pin her hands down on the bed. I gyrate my hips until the head of my cock finds the opening of her pussy. It takes all I have not to thrust into her balls deep, but I’m so fucking hard that I’m certain I’ll hurt her if I do… no matter how wet she is. I push into her, slow but hard.

Fuck, she’s just as tight as she was the last time.

I take a deep breath and push into her again.

Almost there…

I put pressure on my knees and push once more… hard. A squeaking noise comes from her throat this time and I pause, my cock buried balls deep inside her.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice and breath ragged. She’s panting underneath me, her eyes closed tight. “Ana?”

“Yes! Yes!” she says without opening her eyes. “Again!”

Her pussy is so hot and tight that I have to concentrate not to nut like a fucking teenager. I pull out of her—only halfway—and thrust deep into her again. She squeals softly again and the sound shoots straight to my dick.

“Again!” she breathes. “Don’t stop!”

Your fucking wish is my command.

I pull out of her halfway and plunge into her again… and again… and again. Her squeals become whimpers, then moans as I bury myself deep inside her over and over again and again, using our entwined hands for leverage. Jesus, it’s like we fit together perfectly, like nothing and no one I’ve ever felt in my life.

“Christian…” she breathes, turning her head to the side and closing her eyes. I bury my face in her neck and feast on her skin while I bury my cock deep inside her core. Unable to free her hands from mine, she wraps her legs around me and meets me thrust for thrust.

Goddamn, this shit feels so good.

“Christian… oh, God…” Her body bows again, and she locks her legs around my body. It doesn’t hinder my stroke, though. I’m thrusting freely and deeply into her now as she encourages me with various sex phrases…

“Don’t stop…”
“Right there…”
“Oh, God…”

I’m getting hot and hard and my cock is just about ready to blow inside this soft, warm, tight pussy.

“Let me go… please… let me go…”

I release her hands and she wraps them under my arms and around my body, pulling me tight against her as she attempts to match my strokes.

“Kiss me… Christian… please…” she breathes. I put my hands on either side of her head and thrust my tongue into her mouth, licking and tasting and exploring as I stroke into her core with intent and purpose. My body is on fire.

She mewls into my mouth and strokes fast and hard on my dick, tightening her legs around me. When I feel her juices flowing and her walls tightening, I stroke deeper to pull her orgasm out of her, but then she bends her fingers and sinks her nails into my back, raking roughly across the skin.

“Fuuuucck!” I yell involuntarily against her mouth, my eyes closing tight from the pain, and my balls popping hard and emptying with force and anger inside her. I’m certain that she drew blood and if she didn’t, I have eight of the reddest tiger stripes across my back you’ve ever seen.

My back is throbbing with the pain… and so is my cock, giving up its final offering and I fall listlessly onto Ana’s panting body.

A/N: So, they sealed the deal again… but there’s still another chapter to go. What do you think?

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~~love and handcuffs


40 thoughts on “Fifty Shades Golden: Chapter 27

  1. naturallyblonde1221 says:

    well ok then
    great as always

  2. Brooke says:

    Holy Sh***t! That was so hot!! I’m so glad they finally gave in and did the deed again. I hope it works out for them and they have a HEA. I absolutely love your stories. You are an awesome writer. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.

  3. Tina says:

    Wow that’s awesome 👍😀 as always. You’re still the best by far. Thanks again for the very good read..

  4. Junebride says:

    Great chapter, Goddess! Couldn’t go to sleep without reading it! I’m glad Christian talked to his father and mother. Hopefully things will straighten out between them all. Elliott is lost so there’s only Christian and Mia. Hope the two of them are still understanding each other and making their newly found brother-sister relationship grow and flourish.

    The “friend” Christian went to lunch with is Ronnie, right? Can’t wait to see what happens with this story. I’ll have to go back and read the new comments I didn’t know were up. This is so mind-blowing, BG!

    I want to know the ending but don’t want the story to end. Crazy, right? Thanks for sharing your wonderful gift with us. Waiting anxiously until next week… It’s almost 4 am here, better go to bed since I have to get up at 6:15 am.

  5. zeeulove says:

    That was hot… hopefully she is not playing games anymore just to have the last word. They fit perfectly together.

  6. Bonitapplebumm says:

    My heart was beating so fast as I reading it, so good so exciting!
    If she walks away again I will be crushed 😦
    I’m not sure if these two can have a happily ever after but l sure hope they try. #TeamGoldenChopper

  7. Kim says:

    I am ready for last chapter. Everyone made their amends, talked things out. I am happy for all the characters. Thank you for your lovely writing

  8. Kim says:

    I am ready for last chapter. Everyone made their amends, talked things out. I am happy for all the characters. They are together now so they can stop suffering. Thank you for your lovely writing.

  9. Sherree says:

    Well that was intense. Hopefully they will be able to create a relationship together.

  10. falalalynx says:

    Kids these days! lol

  11. Valentinesgenie says:

    That was really serious these two are something else another great chapter see you next time take care.

  12. Lee says:

    Wow, this was unexpected, I thought it would’ve been more difficult! Though I’m definitely not complaining. Eek, I’m squealing!

    I’m sorry if this reads like random bullet points …

    It seems like Trey has progressed to more fully developed feelings towards Ana. When they were sleeping together, he didn’t have thoughts like “she’ll destroy me” or just “I’ve craved you so much” but rather “we fit together so well”. And, Trey throwing away the handkerchief seems symbolic that he’s put that part of their past behind, so this reunion is the start of a new chapter – no pun intended. Time apart has done them both good. And being rejected by each other also did them good. Lol, they’re such babies sometimes :P.

    Though a part of her is still a sadist, I hope Ana doesn’t release it on Christian again, outside of the playroom. She isn’t a simply bad person like Carrick, she just enjoys the game of playing a sadist, like a performance or an alter-ego. Of course games have rules, like chess, there are no unwilling participants. Everybody knows what she does, from reputation at the very least.

    I think this was mentioned somewhere, forgot if it was in comments or notes – I hope she rebuilds her fortress with Christian inside. I feel like he’d be a very supportive partner, like in a best-friend way. He has a clear understanding of what she is. It helps that what he wants isn’t really in conflict of who she is, so she won’t have to compromise much. Trey still likes the edge of Dom Ana – she might have to be both, Dom Ana and softer feminine Ana – if they’re to work out this time. I’m secretly glad about this too – I wouldn’t want Ana any other way. She can use a bit of taming though, just a bit 😛 This is the first time I get the impression that they actually can be compatible.

    Though I hope in their talk, she’ll say to him what she said in her speech to him in her dream. I think it needs to be put out there and addressed, to prevent it from happening. Her speech sounded scarily logical, especially now that they’ve reunited, since feelings can become messy. If there’s anything that I’ve taken away from their whole story, it’s that things don’t always makes sense, so hopefully her dream will be proven wrong they’ll have luck on their side and be able to navigate a way together. I’m so glad that Christian was there that day in front of Grey House. Otherwise who knows how long it would take for them to meet face-to-face before Ana gave up.

    But I do feel like Trey doesn’t want anyone to himself. He said that to Ana, but I think it’ll remain true even if they do last. I think it’d be too much on him to really be responsible for someone, Ana might just end up getting hurt. The fact that none of his exclusive relationships worked out shows that, I think. I also think he likes her independence and spirit, and surely he knows that’ll disappear if she devotes herself to him. It will be unusual, but I’m glad for Ana too, because as much as she’s changed, I don’t think she’ll ever stop being independent and dominant. It’s just not Ana nor Golden. So I don’t think they’ll ever be a traditional couple – their lives as they built them are too set for them to only have each other. They would become dependent on each other and idk, it seems a little risky, I don’t really see them changing in that way, at least for now.

    I’m glad they’re not Mistress/client now. This way they can be equals during this “renegotiation”. I like how they give and take in this chapter – when Ana was trying to run, he caught her. As long as they don’t betray each other like abandoning each other, I think they’ll work out. Kind of like what Christian told Grace. I think their previous relationship that was only consistent of Mistress/client, and not having any friendship or point of reference outside of that, was doomed from the start since Ana had all the power but also responsibility, and either of them was bound to break the rules. With their feelings being so complex, I think a relationship needs both of them to navigate each other. They can still play, but only with more communication. In a way, I’m glad they broke up before because now, their feelings/needs brought them together again. I think they might be strong enough to last.

    Ana is like a virgin in every way, in sex and relationships. It’s endearing to see her kinda hesitant and overwhelmed. It’ll kinda be fun to see her steam a bit, like being jealous, lol. I also wonder if their feelings will grow to the point where we might see her be protective of him? I feel like they can be there for each other in a way nobody else can. Ana never really had anybody to call her own, so maybe she’ll revel in taking ownership of him? and vice versa?

    Which leads me to this next point, I wonder if their relationship/friendship will become public? Not like kissing or holding hands, but maybe as dates, especially since they run in the same social circles. If they are public in any way, I hope Elliot doesn’t find dirt and out them – idk, so many things can go wrong there.

    I also love that even in their short time together in this chapter, they blurted out things to each other, like Ana saying “I do care”, acknowledging – not spitefully but just truthfully – the fact that Trey sent her away, Trey loving and hating her, etc. They both deserve the truth from each other.

    At the end of the love scene, I almost laughed since it wouldn’t be Ana if there wasn’t some pain, at the cost of Christian’s balls … 😛

    Just a little side note, Trey escorting Ana to the Grey House parking seemed a little reminiscent of Taylor escorting Ana to the elevators in the hospital, with how she thought she was being sent away. I think she might continue to doubt herself in terms of her place in Christian’s life. It’s pretty much even now, though – Christian might always expect to some degree for Ana to play him, and Ana might expect Christian to reject her again. I’m glad they want each other more in the end. In a vanilla relationship, this may cause huge problems, but perhaps in a relationship with more guidelines, they can make it work.

    And for once, Elena being right is a good thing! Elena the matchmaker, who knew … 😛

    And the fangirl in me is itching to know the answer to Trey’s question too! Does he love her? At this point, I really don’t know what to expect, much like the characters themselves lol. Ana didn’t freak out, I guess that’s a good sign or maybe she was too overwhelmed to even process it.

    I love that this Christian accepted her with open arms once she basically thought out loud. They need to let each other in more. If they can’t articulate what they feel, then they need to think out loud to each other. He actually seems pretty easygoing which makes his character even more interesting, like he’s simple but his needs are complex. I think they’re both actually very mature people, just in new territory.

    I’m glad both are reconnecting with family. Before, somehow I thought that would lead them to grow apart bc maybe their desire for each other stemmed from feelings of discontent,loneliness, etc. But instead, they’re more in touch with each other. Maybe this could a sign they’re in for the long haul, that their relationship isn’t just to heal each other but because they truly like being together. Eek, I’m squealing again!

    Thank you again, I can’t wait to see what the last chapter holds!

    Just wondering, I think an epilogue was mentioned somewhere, so do you think there’ll be occasional outtakes for Golden+Chopper in the future, like standalone scenes of them throughout various points in life, or will FSG be done for good? I love the deliberateness and direction of this story, but I also enjoy reading day-to-day scenes like you would in a more soap-opera style, and I feel like these characters are definitely meaty enough for more scenes.

  13. Lee says:

    Just an afterthought, will Ronnie and Ana ever meet? Is it something for us to find out? 😛

    I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation… Hi I’m the blond girl who slept with your significant other, but oh we’re cool now, totally cool, see, we have lunch at least every week, we share everything with each other – are you cool? … Golden’s kitty claws come out …

  14. JoAnn says:

    Loved this chapter❤️ Finally they came together(no pun intended)🤣 I’m going to be sorry for the last chapter as I feel it would be great to see them navigate the waters of a relationship 💞 I thought the conversation he had with each of his parents was perfect! Your writing and stories make me happy 🥰

  15. sharrier says:

    Say whatever u guys wants but I want Ana pregnant with Christian baby. Even if they don’t find some sort of relationship at least a great friendship, Bronze Goddess, I know they’ll have that talk but imma cry regardless of the outcome. Your stories regardless of me being into bdsm, resonates with anyone that aint afraid to show emotions. When he told her to leave not gonna lie my own heart hurt knowing that she was at his bed side and shit but I also felt his pain of wanting her so much ,she knows but shuns him . Ah bwoy I cant. Ppl can die of heartache I dont want that. They both need counseling but may deny that they do. Love your writing so much , I feel too much when I read them but they’re so immersive its almost feels disrespectful not to. The rest of the world that can needs to read your phenomenal moments. Thank you for taking the time to bless us with ur words, research and diction.

  16. Sharrier says:


  17. S. Hodgson says:

    Hahahahahaaha the screaming match. That was a long time coming 🙂

  18. Barbara says:

    So glad they both saw the light & did the deed again! My fingers are crossed for a HEA but whatever you come up with, I’m sure it will spectacular!

  19. meeeeouch says:

    I’m greedy…..I want longer chapters!

  20. seralynsmom says:

    Is it bad I’m grinning ear to ear right now? I mean, they still have to talk but damn man, idk how they go back after that. She’s a sadist that likes inflicting pain and has discovered he’s ruined her for any other man. He’s dominant but likes taking the pain she delivers and knows he may never be able to live without her again. It’s like they’re literally perfect for one another now. I didn’t think they could ever make it work in the beginning but now? Now I’m not so sure.

    Deep talk for a fun night out, or what was supposed to be anyway. They’re both right though. Racism goes both ways and there’s a lot behind it all. I have a friend who is mixed and she never felt she fit in with either race. Whites hated her because she was part black, blacks hated her because she was part white. She was bullied and hurt because of it, this was back a ways because she’s in her early 50’s. My social worker when I was in the system was the whitest white bred blue eyed southern girl who just happened to fall in love with the darkest man. She was looked down on from both sides because she was white with a beautiful hunk of dark chocolate. This was in North Carolina so you can imagine what type of shit that rained down but as far as I know they’re both still happy and have at least one kid together. This was near a decade or more ago so I’m sure there’s more tots running around. Lol. And Ana’s cousin is also right in the only way to combat it is to ignore it as best you can. Because not everyone is willing to change. My uncle is prime example of that. He allowed what happened to him to keep him bitter.

    Three hired killers? Damn he really wanted her dead didn’t he? Too bad his ass is going to jail now, for the rest of his life. Linc has to be one of the biggest idiots I’ve ever seen, he and Elena sure as hell deserved one another.

    As for the rest, I’m glad Christian was able to talk to his parents. Maybe those bridges can be rebuilt given a little time and no more secrets and lies. They’ve all learned their lesson, with the exception of Elliot, and bridges are rebuildable. Who knows. 🤷🏻‍♀️

    • falalalynx says:

      I’ve never understood all this hate over a color. All the energy expended through hate over a color. Surprise we are ALL humans. What color you are makes no difference to me. What kind of human you are does. And no one has some God given right to be a bigot over skin pigment. It just shows stupidity when someone behaves this way. Peace, Falala

      • seralynsmom says:

        Oh Falala, if only more of the world thought as you. Unfortunately racism isn’t just a US thing. There racism in Australia facing Muslims because their skin is brown and Aborigines because their skin is black. People in the UK are also racist. We just see it more prevalently here because people film it and we’re the baby of the world. It’s only been a couple hundred years since the Civil War and the beginning of the end of slavery. Maybe one day we’ll all remember that skin color is just that, a color.

      • falalalynx says:

        Sweet Ash,

        Oh I’m well aware this ‘ism’ exist in many places. I personally have experienced some idiot ‘ism’ in my own life.

        Sexism, No you can’t do that You’re a girl.

        I was assaulted on an Indian reservation by this girl because the singer in the evening show was talking to me. He was talking to me because I had a background in theatre arts and I knew how to get the lights working on the stage and get the spot light to work so the show could start. But I was this white chick getting the attention and she took exception.

        Bigots want us all to look alike. sigh This would be sooo boring.

        Ageism You’re to young. You’re to old.

        Moneyism this is my word. grin Where you are not thought of as having as much value because you don’t make as much money. My ex was a big believer of this one.

        I could go on and on. My opinion of an individual is based on the character of the individual not there clothes, not there car, not there bank books and certainly not there heritage. You could be so pleasantly surprised if you would just keep an open mind.

        Peace, Falala

      • seralynsmom says:

        Oh don’t I know all the isms. lol. I’ve experienced my fair share too. Sounds like that girl took exception to the pale face talking to “their” man. It’s stupid. Some of the Twilight fics I read that has Bella with one of the pack show blatant racism, well address it really. Bella is the pale face boy worthy of not just their native boys but their great protectors, the wolves that defend them from the evil vampires. It would be great if we could all remember what it was like as kids, when color didn’t matter at all. It’s unfortunate that so many of those kids get brought up to see nothing but color eventually.

      • You would have really been miffed about my experience at the vet this past weekend. Some lady went up to the counter after I walked in with Meeko and sat next to her and she told the ladies at the counter that it was unacceptable for her to have to wait any longer or sit next to me.

    • I feel horrible for mixed people because they get a really bad hand. Not white enough and not black enough. That’s Marlow’s fight.

      Back in Detroit, I had seen some of the most violently hateful behavior towards interracial couples, particularly black men with white women. The common statement was, “If you help a black man rise, when he’s big, he’ll leave you for a white girl.” Kanye wrote a song about it and then he did the same thing, and black women were PISSED. There was all kinds of stigma going around that black women have bad attitudes and that’s why black men go to “Becky” and blah, blah, blah.

      When I moved out to Vegas and I saw the veritable melting pot – black, white, brown, yellow, olive, you name it – I was so happy. I felt like I had lived in a cage my entire life and I was finally free. Yes, there’s still racism, but luckily, I mostly deal with people of all races and colors who don’t have a problem with me and I don’t have a problem with them.

      • seralynsmom says:

        I’ve heard that stigma. I’ve met some pretty bitchy black women but the majority are nice. Loud af, but nice. Lol. It’s just like the stigma that all white people can’t understand what black people go through and anytime a white person says “I have a black friend” they’re jumped on. I have several black friends, I have mixed friends, and I have friends in interracial relationships and I have SEEN what they go through so don’t tell me that I don’t get it, because I do. And it breaks my heart to know that people I care about go through that shit. Not just the racism either, but other stereotypes too.

        We had two black teens (15&16 siblings) killed last week over $200 they were trying to use to buy a phone. The killer? Another 15 yr old black kid. The comments I saw. Because he’s black it’s assumed he was in a shitty home without a daddy. I had to ask one person, if that’s the case then explain all these little white fuckers walking into places murdering people just because. Most of them have two parent homes and the line is always “I can’t believe they did this, we didn’t raise them this way”.

        Sorry, I went on a rant. But suffice to say, I completely understand how happy you were to hit that melting pot that is Vegas.

      • I saw that on the news about the teenagers that killed the siblings. Very sad. 😥

  21. falalalynx says:

    Oh hey will we be celebrating the final chapter or will it be a wake? evil chuckle.

    On a personal note I have been released from jury duty. I had to check in each evening to see if I needed to show up the next day. It’s odd. I’m glad but at the same time I feel rejected. Crazy Falala

  22. Camille Henley says:

    Goddess you’re the most talented artist/author/writer on this site and ff as well. It literally took me days to read this chapter. I knew that this chapter would put the ending in prospective, even if Trey and Golden just remains friends or mate. We would know why.. And I just simply procrastinated until I had the courage.
    Finally a conversation that was overdue with Christian and his parent. I’m still confused as to why Carrick withheld the information that Mia was on dialysis for years. How and why would he used Mia’s sickness over her head and the family. What could he have gained? I respected the conversation that Christian had with Grace. He was as honest as any son could have been. Knowing that his mother knew more than she voiced. It also feels as thought Christian wants his parent together. I think the family should also rally around Elliott to seek the help that he so desperately needs.

    I like that Golden was as honest as she could be with Trey. Sharing her emotions wasn’t an easy task. They both knew that they wanted each other. Both of them felt the changes within themselves. Both afraid of what those feelings would bring. Both at this stage willing ready to hopefully take the risk.

    So much happened in this chapter. I will re-read without delays. Who knows what I have missed… Thank again Goddess

    • Elliot has to want help before they can help him. He’s so hateful that he guns for Christian each time he sees him in an even more vicious way than Mia used to. Mia just sparred with her brother; Elliot goes for the jugular.

      And about wanting help, Elliot doesn’t think anything is wrong with what he’s doing. “It’s just a little nose candy,” right? 😦

      Finally, I’ve been front and center of two separate situations involving drugs where I’ve had to walk away and say, “No, I can’t do it.” They will lose everything… EVERYTHING… in their lives and still find a way to get that drug. They have to want the help; you can’t shove it down their throats. Without getting too specific, I’ve seen people who went to rehab and cleaned up several times and went back to that drug every time. It’s not pretty and it’s very painful to watch. 😥

      • Camille Henley says:

        I agree totally. Over the summer I was in New York for quite awhile. A very closed family member was on crack for over 30+years. He reached out to me a month prior to going to New York and told me that he was just tired of doing drugs and feeling as if he was nothing and nobody. He also told me that he felt as he was just going through the motion of living without any substance. He also told me he was ready to began to live again. I dedicated myself to him because he has never ever said he wanted to stop or live again. “God’s always in control.” I made one phone call and that call connected me to peoples that was so helpful and willing to help me. ( I knew it was God working this out for our family). He was admitted the very same day after his interview and assessment. He did the 28dys program. Has been faithful going to meeting twice a day and a sponsor who has been cleaned for 34yrs and has taken him under his wings..
        Over the years I have cried many tears over my brother whom I love so very much. He’s one of the most caring and loving person. He somehow forgot at one time how to love himself. So yes, I do understand if they’re not ready. There’re nothing that can be done..

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