All characters belong to E.L. James, I am just playing around in the world she created.
The cool air whips through my hair as I speed through the mountain pass on my way back to Seattle. I quickly glanced at the clock and sighed a breath of relief. I am making good time. He isn't expecting me until six tonight and it is only 1:20. Plenty of time, Ana, plenty of time, I repeat to myself. That is a very good thing. This will be our last weekend together before my big move on Monday and I clench my thighs in anticipation of what is hopefully to come later. I figure it can go one of two ways since he wasn't happy at all when I informed him that I would not be agreeing to an extension of our contract. He might be in the mood to punish me again. Then again, he might want things to end on a better note and it will just be a weekend of fantastic sex and to be honest, I am not sure which one I would prefer. Fantastic sex is great, of course, but it will be that much harder to leave him and not look back. Not that I have a choice. The contract I signed is iron clad as far as what is to happen once we go our separate ways. Once this arrangement is over, it is over. We will have no more contact, in any form, ever again. It is just so final and that makes me sad. I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to work in publishing, even if the job is in New Orleans.
I reach over and pat the box on the passenger seat beside me. It contains almost all the things he has given me over the past year. While I was in Montesano saying goodbye to my dad, Ray, this weekend, I did some serious soul searching. While this publishing job is a dream come true, the actual moving part has been a nightmare. I am a creature of habit and New Orleans will be such a change that I am not so sure I am ready for anymore. To be truthful, I am terrified. And sad. Sad about leaving my dad. Sad about ending my contract with Mr. Grey. Sad about moving out of the apartment I share with Kate. Just sad about everything. The one thing that has been easy however, was the decision to give Mr. Grey back the "gifts" he has showered me with. While I know he can afford it, financially speaking, I am not so sure he can afford it emotionally speaking. To be as rich as he is, it has to be so hard for him to trust anyone outside of his family with the exception of maybe Taylor and Gail, though even they depend on him to provide for them through their employment. One day I hope he meets the girl of his dreams, one who he doesn't feel the need to hide behind a contract spelling out what exactly he will give her. I am not sure he will ever be able to open himself up like that if someone doesn't do the unexpected and show him that not everyone wants him just for his money. I did keep one of the gifts though. I just couldn't bear to part with the first gift, a necklace. Being that we were newly contracted at the time, only a few weeks, it was small. Just a simple gold chain with a small rose pendant. The longer we were contracted, the more he seemed to spend on each gift but at the same time, the less thought he seemed to put into it. I am really nervous of his reaction to receiving all of this back. He might refuse to take it, or punish me. I suppose he could give it to the next girl, or sell it maybe.
The idea of the next girl really bothers me. Per the contract, I am not allowed to get attached to him. And in many ways I am not. One of the reasons our contract was able to go on as long as it has, has been the fact that I have been able to keep my emotions out of it. However, now that it is ending, I have to admit to myself that I am pretty fond of Mr. Grey and am really off kilter about the idea of being so easily replaced. Not to mention, the finality of it just seems so cold and uncaring. Like the past year has been an illusion and nothing else.
I can see Seattle in the distance and I think back to when Kate and I were just moving to Seattle and how this crazy contract came about in the first place. I laugh as I remember how demanding Kate had been about having a spa day after two months came and went and I still didn't have a job offer in the publishing field. I was pretty down about having to take the one offer I did have. A coffee house down the street from our apartment offered me an entry level position and that was far from a job at a publishing house I was hoping for. "Come on Ana," she begged, "we will get you all spruced up and the offers will fly in like crazy." That is Kate for you. As if me having a facial, wax, and hair cut was going to get me a job offer at a publishing house. Spa days, however, are Kate's answer to everything. That is where I met Elena who happened to own the spa we went to, a high end place called Esclava. She did all my services personally and seemed to take a special interest in me. She convinced me to try a Brazilian wax which was something so far out of my comfort zone at that time in my life. She also wasn't shy about her interest in kink or about the fact that she thought I was perfect for someone in particular. Even though I was still a virgin, her stories about domination and submission that day both excited me and made me very curious in ways I hadn't been before. I found myself wanting to know more. She told me about a particular picky, high end client of hers and suggested that I allow her to set up a meeting since he was looking to train a brand new submissive. At first I was scared and told her no but she convinced me to at least consider her offer. After a week, I agreed to meet him and as they say, the rest is history. We signed a contract that very night which I now know is not the usual practice but we just hit it off so well from the start.
I don't want to be a submissive anymore, but I can say that I don't regret the last year one bit. I have learned more about myself that I ever thought possible. I was lucky in that Mr. Grey has always taken great care of me and I have always felt safe, even when he was punishing me but I know not every Dom is as careful about safety and for that reason, I don't want to risk another dominant. I roll down the window and enter my security code into the Escala garage. After a few moments, the arm lifts and I drive in finding my usual space empty and waiting for me. I toss the car keys into the box and tape it up while at the same time, I try to control the usual butterflies about what awaits me this weekend. The anticipation is my favorite part if I am being completely honest with myself. Pulling my suitcase out of the trunk and lugging the big box I make my way over to the elevator and enter yet another code before I find myself being whisked up to his palace in the sky in the cool white marble elevator. The ding announces my presence and I am surprised to see Mr. Grey standing in front of the wall of windows looking out over the city.
"You are early Ms. Steele." He says without turning around.
Mr. Grey loosens his tie but continues staring out the window at the city. I admire his backside. The way his muscles ripple under his white dress shirt and his black slacks fit to show off his rear. I can tell he is tense. He didn't tell me I could approach him or even come any closer so I don't. He is correct. I am an hour early. He doesn't appreciate being early or late. He wants on time. I know this, but this being the last time, I hoped to make the most of the time we have left. I gulp as I wonder how big of a mistake I made this time. For all I know, he might leave me standing here until precisely 6:00. If that is the case, I should have worn different shoes because these heels are killing me already.
A few more minutes pass when finally he turns around and I can see the expression on his gorgeous face. My heart drops into my aching feet. While he doesn't look angry like I was expecting, he looks awful. His eyes are red rimmed and his cheeks are pink. Oh no, is he sick? Stay here, I remind myself, ignoring the instinct I have to run to him and take care of him. I try to keep my expression neutral but I know I am failing miserably. He motions me to the couch and with relief, I quickly obey and sit down leaving my suitcase and the box next to the elevator. He sits next to me and slides me so that I am sitting with my feet in his lap. He takes his finger and glides it up my insole removing the shoe and causing me to become very wet at the same time.
"I don't think I can do this weekend Anastasia." He states without looking at me while mindlessly continue to massage my feet.
"Sir?" I question. What does he mean, he doesn't think he can do this? What the hell! I feel the anger bubbling up inside of me and my face becoming flush.
"Anastasia, you are the first woman who has ever refused to extend a contract with me. You are the first woman I have not ended the contract with!" His hands fly up into his mess of copper curls, his frustration evident. "I have no experience with this and I don't like it one bit. I don't know that I can perform up to either of our standards and I don't know that I want to find out."
"Sir?" I start again. Other than the steady rhythm of his hands gliding over my feet there is no reaction from him and it pisses me off. "Christian, this is bull shit." His head snaps up like I smacked him and he glares at me. Uh oh. I might have pushed him a bit too far but shit, if I am in this deep, I might as well go all in. "You know it is. You know my dream is to be an editor and you know I tried to find a position here in Seattle but it just didn't happen. New Orleans happened though and while it is not where I want to be, I would be selling myself short if I don't go and at least try." I am starting to feel a little better because the yelling is relieving some of the stress I have been feeling. "Besides, let's be honest, it is YOUR contract, YOUR terms, if you don't like something, YOU have the power to change it." He is still staring at me like I've grown another head or something.
In a flash, his lips are on mine and our teeth are clashing as his tongue begs for entrance and I give it to him. It registers with me that we are still on the couch in his living room and not in the red room. In all our time together, all of our physical encounters have happened only in the red room. His hand reaches between my thighs and he starts rubbing me where I need it most and I start to build towards a climax. "Say it again." He demands. I try to wrack my brain and figure out what he wants me to repeat.
"You have the power." I tell him. He bites my shoulder and shakes his head no. What did I say? I can't think of anything that would cause him to have such a primal reaction. It wouldn't be about my move I wouldn't think. "Christian?" I said tentatively. It was all I could think of. I have never called him by his first name, at least not in his presence
"Yes!" He grunts. "Say it again." I register my panties being pulled off and being replaced with his tongue.
It feels so good and I scream "Christian." as the first bit wave of my orgasm overtakes me. This is so raw, so sexy, and so unexpected. He continues to rub me through my orgasm and slowly brings me down. When he looks up at me, his chin covered with the remnant of my pleasure, it only turns me on again. He slides me down onto his thick shaft and I carefully place my hands on the couch so that he can see that I won't touch him and hopefully he will be able to relax and succumb to his own pleasure.
As Christian chases his own orgasm, I keep the pace but am transfixed on watching him. I never had the opportunity before being that he usually blindfolded me if I was going to be facing him. I watched and noticed how his lips formed a tight "o" the closer he got to his release. How his breathing turns erratic, how he closes his eyes. What I am seeing and the sexy sounds he is making is bringing me close to the edge but I am determined to stave off my own release. Harder and faster he is pushing his way into me and I am matching him stroke for stroke until he yells and groans out his orgasm finally burying his head into my neck. I reach up and wrap my arm around his head and massage his scalp and tug on his hair the way I know he likes.
I don't know how long we sit tangled together but my body is still when he finally looks at up at me. His eyes, the windows to his soul, look confused and scared before being quickly replaced with his typical, steely expression. I hold my breath and wait because this is uncharted waters. We have never had sex outside of the playroom before and while it was exciting in the moment, I am no longer sure it was the right thing to do. Sex in the playroom is scripted. We both know our parts well and that provides a whole lot more comfort than what I am feeling now. I take a deep breath and will my body into submission. If it works in the playroom, then it should work here in the living room.
After a beat, I feel him shift. "Ana...," he starts nervously. "Please start dinner. I have some work to do in my study. I will be there if you need me." I stretch out and begin to stand, grateful to have instructions. His instructions renew my purpose and I gleefully start going down my mental rolodex of recipes trying to decide what I am going to cook. Gail always leaves the kitchen fully stocked so the sky is the limit. I turn towards the kitchen when I feel a force turning me back around. Before I know what is happening, I feel the soft lips of one Mr. Grey on my forehead and a playful smack on my bottom and then hear his footsteps on the wood floor heading to his office. A playful Mr. Grey just made a rare appearance. With a smile on my face and shaking my head I start listing out the ingredients I need for tonight's meal.
A/N: I have had this story swirling around for a few years now and I am determined to see this through to fruition. Please review if you want to let me know what you think but please understand that it is largely planned out already. I hope will join me on this ride.