Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades #1)(52)
Author: E.L. James

"I’m nervous about the gagging."

"Okay. I’ll take note."

I stare up at him, realization dawning.

"Do you like tying your submissives up so they can’t touch you?"

He gazes at me, his eyes widening.

"That’s one of the reasons," he says quietly.

"Is that why you’ve tied my hands?"

"Yes."

"You don’t like talking about that," I murmur.

"No, I don’t. Would you like another drinkIt’s making you brave, and I need to know how you feel about pain."

Holy crap… this is the tricky part. He refills my teacup, and I sip.

"So, what’s your general attitude to receiving pain?" Christian looks expectantly at me.

"You’re biting your lip," he says darkly.

I stop immediately, but I don’t know what to say. I flush and stare down at my hands.

"Were you physically punished as a child?"

"No."

"So you have no sphere of reference at all?"

"No."

"It’s not as bad as you think. Your imagination is your worst enemy in this," he whispers.

"Do you have to do it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Goes with the territory, Anastasia. It’s what I do. I can see you’re nervous. Let’s go through methods."

He shows me the list. My subconscious runs, screaming, and hides behind the couch.

Spanking

Paddling

Whipping

Caning

Biting

Nipple clamps

Genital clamps

Ice

Hot wax

Other types/methods of pain

"Well, you said no to genital clamps. That’s fine. It’s caning that hurts the most."

I blanch.

"We can work up to that."

"Or not do it at all," I whisper.

"This is part of the deal, baby, but we’ll work up to all of this. Anastasia, I won’t push you too far."

"This punishment thing, it worries me the most." My voice is very small.

"Well, I’m glad you’ve told me. We’ll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with this stuff, we’ll increase intensity. We’ll take it slow."

I swallow, and he leans forward and kisses me on my lips.

"There, that wasn’t so bad was it?"

I shrug, my heart in mouth again.

"Look, I want to talk about one more thing, then I’m taking you to bed."

"Bed?" I blink rapidly, and my blood pounds round my body, warming places I didn’t know existed until very recently.

"Come on, Anastasia, talking through all this, I want to f**k you into next week, right now. It must be having some effect on you too."

I squirm. My inner goddess is panting.

"SeeBeside, there’s something I want to try."

"Something painful?"

"No – stop seeing pain everywhere. It’s mainly pleasure. Have I hurt you yet?"

I flush.

"No."

"Well then. Look, earlier today you were talking about wanting more," he halts, uncertain all of a sudden.

Oh my… where’s this going?

He clasps my hand.

"Outside of the time you’re my sub, perhaps we could try. I don’t know if it will work.

I don’t know about separating everything. It may not work. But I’m willing to try. Maybe one night a week. I don’t know."

Holy cow… my mouth drops open, my subconscious is in shock, Christian Grey is up for more! He’s willing to try! My subconscious peeks out from behind the couch, still registering shock on her harpy face.

"I have one condition." He looks warily at my stunned expression.

"What?" I breathe. Anything. I’ll give you anything.

"You graciously accept my graduation present to you."

"Oh." And deep down I know what it is. Dread spawns in my belly.

He’s staring down at me, gauging my reaction.

"Come," he murmurs and rises, dragging me up. Taking his jacket off, he drapes it over my shoulders and heads for the door.

Parked outside is a red hatchback car, a two-door compact Audi.

"It’s for you. Happy graduation," he murmurs, pulling me into his arms and kissing my hair.

He’s bought me a damned car, brand new by the looks of it. Jeez… I’ve had enough trouble with the books. I stare at it blankly, trying desperately to determine how I feel about this. I am appalled on one level, grateful on another, shocked that he’s actually done it, but the overriding emotion is anger. Yes, I’m angry, especially after everything I told him about the books… but then he’d already bought this. Taking my hand, he leads me down the path toward this new acquisition.

"Anastasia, that Beetle of yours is old and frankly dangerous. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you when it’s so easy for me to make it right," he trails off. His eyes are on me, but at the moment I cannot bring myself to look at him. I stand silently staring at its awesome bright red newness.

"I mentioned it to your stepfather. He was all for it," he murmurs.

Turning, I glare at him, my mouth open in horror.

"You mentioned this to Ray. How could you?" I can barely spit the words out. How dare he Poor Ray. I feel sick, mortified for my dad.

"It’s a gift, Anastasia. Can’t you just say thank you?"

"But you know it’s too much."

"Not to me it isn’t, not for my peace of mind."

I frown at him, at a loss what to say. He just doesn’t get it! He’s had money all his life.

Okay, not all his life – not as a small child – and my world-view shifts. The thought is very sobering, and I soften towards the car, feeling guilty about my fit of pique. His intentions are good, misguided, but not from a bad place.

"I’m happy for you to loan this to me, like the laptop."

He sighs heavily.

"Okay. On loan. Indefinitely." He looks warily at me.

"No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you."

He frowns. I reach up and kiss him briefly on his cheek.

"Thank you for the car, sir." I say as sweetly as I can manage.

He grabs me suddenly and yanks me up against him, one hand at my back holding me to him and the other fisting in my hair.

"You are one challenging woman, Ana Steele." He kisses me passionately, forcing my lips apart with his tongue, taking no prisoners.

My blood heats immediately, and I’m returning his kiss with my own passion. I want him badly – in spite of the car, the books, the soft limits… the caning… I want him.

"It’s taking all my self-control not to f**k you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a f**king car, I’ll buy you a f**king car," he growls. "Now let’s get you inside and naked." He plants a swift rough kiss on me.

Boy, he’s angry. He grabs my hand and leads me back into the apartment and straight into my bedroom… no passing go. My subconscious is behind the sofa again, head hidden under her hands. He switches on the sidelight and halts, staring at me.

"Please don’t be angry with me," I whisper.

His gaze is impassive; his gray eyes cold shards of smoky glass.

"I’m sorry about the car and the books," I trail off. He remains silent and brooding.

"You scare me when you’re angry," I breathe, staring at him.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, his expression has softened fractionally. He takes a deep breath and swallows.

"Turn round," he whispers. "I want to get you out of that dress."

Another mercurial mood swing, it’s so hard to keep up. Obediently, I turn and my heart is thumping, desire instantly replacing unease, coursing through my blood and settling dark and yearning low, low in my belly. He scoops my hair off my back so it hangs down my right side, curling at my breast. He places his index finger at the nape of my neck and achingly slowly drags it down my spine. His well-manicured fingernail gently grazes down my back.

"I like this dress," he murmurs. "I like to see your flawless skin."

His finger reaches the back of my halter dress midway down my spine, and hooking his finger beneath the top, he pulls me closer so that I step back against him. I feel him flush against my body. Leaning down, he inhales my hair.

"You smell so good, Anastasia. So sweet." His nose skims past my ear down my neck, and he trails soft, feather light kisses along my shoulder.

My breathing changes, becoming shallow, rushed, full of expectation. His fingers are at my zipper. Achingly slow, once more he eases it down while his lips move, licking and kissing and sucking their way across to my other shoulder. He is so tantalizingly good at this. My body resonates, and I start to squirm languidly beneath his touch.