Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told (Page 121)

Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian(121)
Author: E.L. James

“Twelve,” she says.

“Great.”

She gives me a look as I head into my study. I ignore it. She’s seen me in less than my bathrobe before—what the hell is her problem?

I check through some e-mails and my phone to see if there’s any news about Leila. Nothing—but since Ana’s arrival, I don’t feel as hopeless as I did earlier.

Ana enters the kitchen at the same time that I do, lured no doubt by the tantalizing smell of our dinner. When she sees Mrs. Jones she clutches the neck of her bathrobe.

“Just in time,” Gail says, serving our meal in two large bowls at the place settings on the counter.

“Sit.” I point to one of the barstools. Ana’s anxious eyes pass from me to Mrs. Jones.

She’s self-conscious.

Baby, I have staff. Get over it.

“Wine?” I offer, to distract her.

“Please,” she says, sounding reserved as she takes her seat.

I open a bottle of Sancerre and pour two small glasses.

“There’s cheese in the fridge if you’d like, sir,” Gail says. I nod, and she exits the room, much to Ana’s relief. I take my seat.

“Cheers.” I raise my glass.

“Cheers,” Ana replies, and the crystal glasses sing as we clink. She takes a bite of her food and makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat. Perhaps she is famished.

“Are you going to tell me?” she asks.

“Tell you what?” Mrs. Jones has outdone herself; the pasta tastes delicious.

“What I said in my sleep.”

I shake my head. “Eat up. You know I like watching you eat.”

She pouts with mock exasperation. “You are so pervy,” she exclaims under her breath.

Oh, baby, you have no idea. And a thought springs to mind: maybe we should explore something new in the playroom tonight. Something fun.

“Tell me about this friend of yours,” I ask.

“My friend?”

“The photographer.” I keep my voice light, but she regards me with a fleeting frown.

“Well, we met the first day of college. He’s an engineering major, but his passion is photography.”

“And?”

“That’s it.” Her evasive answers are irritating.

“Nothing else?”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “We’ve become good friends. It turns out my dad and José’s dad served together in the military before I was born. They’ve gotten back in touch, and they’re now best buds.”

Oh. “Your dad and his dad?”

“Yeah.” She twirls more pasta around her fork.

“I see.”

“This tastes delicious.” She gives me a contented smile, and her robe gapes a little, revealing the swell of her breast. The sight stirs my cock.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Fine,” she says.

“Up for more?”

“More?”

“More wine?” More sex? In the playroom?

“A small glass, please.”

I pour her a little more Sancerre. I don’t want either of us to drink too much if we’re going to play.

“How’s the, um…situation that brought you to Seattle?”

Leila. Shit. This I do not want to discuss. “Out of hand. But nothing for you to worry about, Anastasia. I have plans for you this evening.”

I want to see if we can play this so-called arrangement of ours both ways.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I want you ready and waiting in my playroom in fifteen minutes.” I stand up, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. She takes a quick sip of her wine, her pupils widening. “You can get ready in your room. Incidentally, the walk-in closet is now full of clothes for you. I don’t want any arguments about them.”

Her mouth sets in a surprised o. And I give her a stern look, daring her to argue with me. Remarkably, she says nothing, and I head off to my study to send a quick e-mail to Ros telling her I want to start the process to acquire SIP as soon as possible.

I scan a couple of work e-mails, but see nothing in my inbox about Mrs. Reed. I put thoughts of Leila out of my mind; she’s preoccupied me for the last twenty-four hours. Tonight I’m going to focus on Ana—and have some fun.

When I return to the kitchen Ana’s disappeared; I presume she’s getting ready upstairs.

In my closet I remove my robe and slip on my favorite jeans. As I do, images of Ana in my bathroom come to mind—her flawless back, then her hands pressed against the tiles while I fucked her.

Boy, the girl has stamina.

Let’s see how much.

With a sense of exhilaration I collect my iPod from the living room and bolt upstairs to the playroom.

When I find Ana kneeling as she should be at the entrance facing the room—eyes down, legs parted, and wearing only her panties—my first feeling is one of relief.

She’s still here; she’s game.

My second is pride: she has followed my instructions to the letter. My smile is hard to hide.

Miss Steele does not back down from a challenge.

Closing the door behind me, I note that her bathrobe has been hung up on the peg. I walk past her barefoot and deposit my iPod on the chest. I’ve decided that I’m going to deprive her of all her senses but touch, and see how she fares with that. The bed has been made up with satin sheets.

And the leather shackles are in place.

At the chest I take out a hair tie, a blindfold, a fur glove, earbuds, and the handy transmitter that Barney designed for my iPod. I lay out the items in a neat row, plugging the transmitter into the top of the iPod, letting Ana wait. Anticipation is half the buildup to a scene. Once I’m satisfied I go and stand over her. Ana’s head is bowed, the ambient light burnishing her hair. She looks modest and beautiful, the epitome of a submissive.

“You look lovely.” I cup her face and tilt her head up until blue eyes meet gray. “You are one beautiful woman, Anastasia. And you’re all mine,” I whisper. “Stand up.”

She’s a little stiff as she gets to her feet. “Look at me,” I order, and when I look into her eyes I know I could drown in her serious, rapt expression. I’ve got her full attention. “We don’t have a signed contract, Anastasia. But we’ve discussed limits. And I want to reiterate we have safe words, okay?”

She blinks a couple of times, but remains mute.

“What are they?” I demand.

She hesitates.

Oh, this will never do.

“What are the safe words, Anastasia?”