Grey
Page 116
“Come.” I hold out my hand and help her out of the cockpit. As she jumps down I fold her into my arms, pulling her against me. Filled with adrenaline, my body responds immediately to her softness. In a nanosecond my hands are in her hair, and I’m tipping her head back so I can kiss her. My hand skims down to the base of her spine, pressing her against my growing erection, and my mouth takes hers in a long, lingering, possessive kiss.
I want her.
Here.
Now.
On the grass.
She responds in kind, her fingers twisting in my hair, tugging, begging for more, as she opens up for me like a morning glory.
I break away for air and rationality.
Not in a field!
Benson and Taylor are nearby.
Her eyes are luminous, pleading for more.
Don’t look at me like that, Ana.
“Breakfast,” I whisper, before I do something I’ll regret. Turning, I clasp her hand and walk back toward the car.
“What about the glider?” she asks as she tries to keep up with me.
“Someone will take care of that.” It’s what I pay Taylor to do. “We’ll eat now. Come.”
She bounces along beside me, brimming with happiness; I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her so buoyant. Her mood is infectious and I don’t remember if I’ve ever felt this upbeat, either. I can’t help my big, fat grin as I hold open the car door for her.
With Kings of Leon belting from the sound system I ease the Mustang out of the airfield toward I-95.
As we cruise along the freeway, Ana’s BlackBerry starts beeping.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Alarm for my pill,” she mutters.
“Good, well done. I hate condoms.”
From the sideways look I give her, I think she’s rolling her eyes, but I’m not sure.
“I like that you introduced me to Mark as your girlfriend,” she says, changing the subject.
“Isn’t that what you are?”
“Am I? I thought you wanted a submissive.”
“So did I, Anastasia, and I do. But I’ve told you, I want more, too.”
“I’m very happy that you want more,” she says.
“We aim to please, Miss Steele,” I tease as I pull into the International House of Pancakes—my father’s guilty pleasure.
“IHOP?” she says in disbelief.
The Mustang rumbles to a stop. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I would never have pictured you here.”
“My dad used to bring us to one of these whenever my mom went away to a medical conference.” We shuffle into a booth, facing each other. “It was our secret.” I pick up a menu, watching Ana as she tucks her hair behind her ears and examines what IHOP has to offer for breakfast. She licks her lips in anticipation. And I’m forced to suppress my physical reaction. “I know what I want,” I whisper, and wonder how she would feel visiting the restroom with me. Her eyes meet mine, and her pupils expand.
“I want what you want,” she murmurs. As ever, Miss Steele does not back away from a challenge.
“Here?” Are you sure, Ana? Her eyes dart around the quiet restaurant, then come to rest on me, darkening and full of carnal promise. “Don’t bite your lip,” I warn. Much as I’d like to, I’m not going to fuck her in the restroom at IHOP. She deserves better than that, and frankly, so do I. “Not here, not now. If I can’t have you here, don’t tempt me.”
We’re interrupted.
“Hi, my name’s Leandra. What can I get for you…er…folks…er…today, this mornin’?”
Oh, God. I ignore the redheaded server.
“Anastasia?” I prompt her.
“I told you, I want what you want.”
Hell. She might as well be addressing my groin.
“Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?” the waitress asks.
“No. We know what we want.” I cannot tear my gaze from Ana’s. “We’ll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English Breakfast tea, if you have it.”
Ana smiles.
“Thank you, sir. Will that be all?” the waitress exclaims, all breathy and embarrassed. Tearing my attention away from Ana, I dismiss the waitress with a look and she scurries away.
“You know, it’s really not fair,” Ana says, her voice quiet as her finger traces a figure eight on the table.
“What’s not fair?”
“How you disarm people. Women. Me.”
“Do I disarm you?” I’m stunned.
“All the time.”
“It’s just looks, Anastasia.”
“No, Christian, it’s much more than that.”
She has this the wrong way around, and once again I tell her how disarming I find her.
Her brow furrows. “Is that why you’ve changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind?”
“Yes—about…er…us?”
Have I changed my mind? I think I’ve just relaxed my boundaries a little, that’s all. “I don’t think I’ve changed my mind per se. We just need to redefine our parameters, redraw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that…well, I think it’s all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Steele. What say you to that?”
“So I get to sleep with you? In your bed?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“I agree, then. Besides, I sleep very well when you’re in my bed. I had no idea.”
“I was frightened you’d leave me if I didn’t agree to all of it,” she says, her face a little pale.
“I’m not going anywhere, Anastasia. Besides—” How can she think that? I need to reassure her. “We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You e-mailed it to me. And so far, it’s working for me.”
“I love that you want more.”
“I know.” My tone is warm.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me. I just do.” You told me in your sleep.
The waitress returns with our breakfast and I watch Ana devour it. “More” seems to be working for her.
I want her.
Here.
Now.
On the grass.
She responds in kind, her fingers twisting in my hair, tugging, begging for more, as she opens up for me like a morning glory.
I break away for air and rationality.
Not in a field!
Benson and Taylor are nearby.
Her eyes are luminous, pleading for more.
Don’t look at me like that, Ana.
“Breakfast,” I whisper, before I do something I’ll regret. Turning, I clasp her hand and walk back toward the car.
“What about the glider?” she asks as she tries to keep up with me.
“Someone will take care of that.” It’s what I pay Taylor to do. “We’ll eat now. Come.”
She bounces along beside me, brimming with happiness; I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her so buoyant. Her mood is infectious and I don’t remember if I’ve ever felt this upbeat, either. I can’t help my big, fat grin as I hold open the car door for her.
With Kings of Leon belting from the sound system I ease the Mustang out of the airfield toward I-95.
As we cruise along the freeway, Ana’s BlackBerry starts beeping.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Alarm for my pill,” she mutters.
“Good, well done. I hate condoms.”
From the sideways look I give her, I think she’s rolling her eyes, but I’m not sure.
“I like that you introduced me to Mark as your girlfriend,” she says, changing the subject.
“Isn’t that what you are?”
“Am I? I thought you wanted a submissive.”
“So did I, Anastasia, and I do. But I’ve told you, I want more, too.”
“I’m very happy that you want more,” she says.
“We aim to please, Miss Steele,” I tease as I pull into the International House of Pancakes—my father’s guilty pleasure.
“IHOP?” she says in disbelief.
The Mustang rumbles to a stop. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I would never have pictured you here.”
“My dad used to bring us to one of these whenever my mom went away to a medical conference.” We shuffle into a booth, facing each other. “It was our secret.” I pick up a menu, watching Ana as she tucks her hair behind her ears and examines what IHOP has to offer for breakfast. She licks her lips in anticipation. And I’m forced to suppress my physical reaction. “I know what I want,” I whisper, and wonder how she would feel visiting the restroom with me. Her eyes meet mine, and her pupils expand.
“I want what you want,” she murmurs. As ever, Miss Steele does not back away from a challenge.
“Here?” Are you sure, Ana? Her eyes dart around the quiet restaurant, then come to rest on me, darkening and full of carnal promise. “Don’t bite your lip,” I warn. Much as I’d like to, I’m not going to fuck her in the restroom at IHOP. She deserves better than that, and frankly, so do I. “Not here, not now. If I can’t have you here, don’t tempt me.”
We’re interrupted.
“Hi, my name’s Leandra. What can I get for you…er…folks…er…today, this mornin’?”
Oh, God. I ignore the redheaded server.
“Anastasia?” I prompt her.
“I told you, I want what you want.”
Hell. She might as well be addressing my groin.
“Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?” the waitress asks.
“No. We know what we want.” I cannot tear my gaze from Ana’s. “We’ll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English Breakfast tea, if you have it.”
Ana smiles.
“Thank you, sir. Will that be all?” the waitress exclaims, all breathy and embarrassed. Tearing my attention away from Ana, I dismiss the waitress with a look and she scurries away.
“You know, it’s really not fair,” Ana says, her voice quiet as her finger traces a figure eight on the table.
“What’s not fair?”
“How you disarm people. Women. Me.”
“Do I disarm you?” I’m stunned.
“All the time.”
“It’s just looks, Anastasia.”
“No, Christian, it’s much more than that.”
She has this the wrong way around, and once again I tell her how disarming I find her.
Her brow furrows. “Is that why you’ve changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind?”
“Yes—about…er…us?”
Have I changed my mind? I think I’ve just relaxed my boundaries a little, that’s all. “I don’t think I’ve changed my mind per se. We just need to redefine our parameters, redraw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that…well, I think it’s all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Steele. What say you to that?”
“So I get to sleep with you? In your bed?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“I agree, then. Besides, I sleep very well when you’re in my bed. I had no idea.”
“I was frightened you’d leave me if I didn’t agree to all of it,” she says, her face a little pale.
“I’m not going anywhere, Anastasia. Besides—” How can she think that? I need to reassure her. “We’re following your advice, your definition: compromise. You e-mailed it to me. And so far, it’s working for me.”
“I love that you want more.”
“I know.” My tone is warm.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me. I just do.” You told me in your sleep.
The waitress returns with our breakfast and I watch Ana devour it. “More” seems to be working for her.
