Fifty Shades Book 1 - Page 69

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Tonight

Date: May 25 2011 22:01

To: Anastasia Steele

I don't understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your questions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.

Trust me.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

His email makes me weep more. I am not a merger. I am not an acquisition. Reading this, I might as well be. I don't reply. I just don't know what to say to him. I fumble into my PJs, and wrapping his jacket around me. I climb into bed. As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.

'Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the man for you.'

'I don't do the girlfriend thing.'

'I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.'

'I don't make love.''This is all I know.'

And as I weep into my pillow silently, it's this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too.

Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

Chapter Fourteen

Christian is standing over me grasping a plaited, leather riding-crop. He's wearing old, faded, ripped Levis and that's all. He flicks the crop slowly into his palm as he gazes down at me. He's smiling, triumphant. I cannot move. I am naked and shackled, spread-eagled on a large four-poster bed. Reaching forward, he trails the tip of the crop from my forehead down the length of my nose, so I can smell the leather, and over my parted, panting lips.

He pushes the tip into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, rich leather.

"Suck," he commands his voice soft. My mouth closes over the tip as I obey.

"Enough," he snaps.

I'm panting once more as he tugs the crop out of my mouth, trails it down and under my chin, on down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat. He swirls it slowly there and then continues to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, between my br**sts, over my torso down to my navel. I'm panting, squirming, pulling against my restraints that are biting into my wrists and my ankles. He swirls the tip around my navel then continues to trail the leather tip south, through my pubic hair to my c.l.i.toris. He flicks the crop and it hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I come, gloriously, shouting my release.

Abruptly, I wake, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of my o.r.g.a.s.m. Holy h.e.l.l. I'm completely disorientated. What the h.e.l.l just happened I'm in my bedroom alone. HowWhyI sit bolt upright, shocked... wow. It's morning. I glance at my alarm clock - eight o'clock. I put my head in my hands. I didn't know I could dream s.e.x. Was it something I atePerhaps the oysters and my Internet research manifesting itself in my first wet dream. It's bewildering. I had no idea that I could o.r.g.a.s.m in my sleep.

Kate is skipping around the kitchen when I stagger in.

"Ana, are you okayYou look odd. Is that Christian's jacket you're wearing?"

"I'm fine." d.a.m.n, should have checked in the mirror. I avoid her piercing green eyes.

I'm still reeling from my morning's event. "Yes, this is Christian's jacket."

She frowns.

"Did you sleep?"

"Not very well."

I head for the kettle. I need tea.

"How was dinner?"

So it begins.

"We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I'd say it was fishy."

"Ugh... I hate oysters, and I don't want to know about the food. How was Christian?

What did you talk about?"

"He was attentive," I pause.

What can I sayHis HIV status is clear, he's heavily into role-play, wants me to obey his every command, he hurt someone he tied to his bedroom ceiling, and he wanted to f**k me in the private dining room. Would that be a good summaryI try desperately to remember something from my encounter with Christian that I can discuss with Kate.

"He doesn't approve of Wanda."

"Who does, AnaThat's old news. Why are you being so coyGive it up, girlfriend."

"Oh, Kate, we talked about lots things. You know - how fussy he is about food. Incidentally, he liked your dress." The kettle has boiled, so I make myself some tea. "Do you want teaWould you like me to hear your speech for today?"

"Yes, please. I worked on it last night over at Lilah's. I'll go fetch it. And yes, I'd love some tea." Kate races out of the kitchen.

Phew, Katherine Kavanagh sidetracked. I slice a bagel and pop it into the toaster. I flush remembering my very vivid dream. What on earth was that about?

Last night I found it hard to sleep. My head was buzzing with various options. I am so confused. Christian's idea of a relationship is more like a job offer. It has set hours, a job description, and a rather harsh grievance procedure. It's not how I envisaged my first romance - but, of course, Christian doesn't do romance. If I tell him I want more, he may say no... and I could jeopardize what he has offered. And this is what concerns me most, because I don't want to lose him. But I'm not sure I have the stomach to be his submissive

- deep down, it's the canes and whips that put me off. I'm a physical coward, and I will go a long way to avoid pain. I think of my dream... is that what it would be like My inner G.o.ddess jumps up and down with cheerleading pom-poms shouting yes at me.

Kate comes back into the kitchen with her laptop. I concentrate on my bagel and listen patiently as she runs through her Valedictorian speech.

I am dressed and ready when Ray arrives. I open the front door, and he's standing on the porch in his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of grat.i.tude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of affection. He's taken-aback, bemused.