Chapter Thirteen #3
“Good.” He smiles. “Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now.” He pauses.
He can’t stay away from me? What?
“How about one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself—but I get a midweek night that week?”
“Okay.”
“And please, let’s try it for three months. If it’s not for you, then you can walk away anytime.”
“Three months.” I’m feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat myself to another oyster. I could learn to like these.
“The ownership thing, that’s just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying.
It’s to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I’m coming from.
And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you.
You have to accept that, and willingly. That’s why you have to trust me.
I will fuck you, anytime, any way I want—anywhere I want.
I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me.
“But I know you’ve not done this before. Initially, we’ll take it slowly, and I will help you. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The ‘or otherwise’—again, it’s to help you get into the mind-set; it means anything goes.”
He’s so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is… I can’t take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.
“Still with me?” he whispers, his voice rich, warm, and seductive. He takes a sip of his wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.
The waiter comes to the door, and Christian subtly nods, permitting the waiter to clear our table.
“Would you like some more wine?”
“I have to drive.”
“Some water, then?”
I nod.
“Still or sparkling?”
“Sparkling, please.”
The waiter leaves.
“You’re very quiet,” Christian whispers.
“You’re very verbose.”
He smiles. “Discipline. There’s a very fine line between pleasure and pain, Anastasia.
They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other.
I can show you how pleasurable pain can be.
You don’t believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can’t handle.
Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Ana? ”
Ana!
“Yes, I do,” I respond spontaneously, not thinking. Because it’s true—I do trust him.
He looks relieved. “Well, then, the rest of this stuff is just details.”
“Important details.”
“Okay, let’s talk through those.”
My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Kate’s digital recorder so I can listen to this again later. There is so much information, so much to process.
The waiter reemerges with our entrées: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hollandaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.
“I hope you like fish,” Christian says mildly.
I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was wine.
“The rules. Let’s talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?”
“Yes.”
“Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?”
“No.” I am so not backing down on this. No one is going to dictate to me what I eat. How I fuck, yes, but eat…no, no way.
He purses his lips. “I need to know you’re not hungry.”
I frown. Why? “You’ll have to trust me.”
He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes. “Oh, touché, Miss Steele. I concede the food and the sleep.”
“Why can’t I look at you?”
“That’s a Dom/sub thing. You’ll get used to it.”
Will I? “Why can’t I touch you?”
“Because you can’t.” His mouth sets in a mulish line.
“Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?”
He looks quizzically at me. “Why would you think that?” And immediately he understands. “You think she traumatized me?”
I nod.
“No, Anastasia. She’s not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t take any of that shit from me.”
Oh…but I have to. I pout. “So nothing to do with her.”
“No. And I don’t want you touching yourself, either.”
What? Ah yes, the no-masturbation clause.
“Out of curiosity, why?”
“Because I want all your pleasure.” His voice is husky but determined.
Oh… I have no answer for that. On one level, it’s up there with “I want to bite that lip”; on another, it’s so selfish.
I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what concessions I’ve gained.
The food, the sleep. He’s going to take it slow, and we haven’t discussed soft limits.
But I’m not sure I can face that over food.
“I’ve given you a great deal to think about, haven’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go through the soft limits now, too?”
“Not over dinner.”
He smiles. “Squeamish?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ve not eaten very much.”
“I’ve had enough.”
“Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you’ve not eaten all day. You said I could trust you.”
Jeez. He’s kept an inventory.
“Christian, please, it’s not every day I sit through conversations like this.”
“I need you fit and healthy, Anastasia.”
“I know.”
“And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress.”
I swallow and feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I’m now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can’t have this. His most potent weapon, used against me again. He’s so good at sex—even I’ve figured this out.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmur quietly. “We haven’t had dessert.”
“You want dessert?” he snorts.
“Yes.”
“You could be dessert,” he murmurs suggestively.
“I’m not sure I’m sweet enough.”
“Anastasia, you’re deliciously sweet. I know.”
“Christian. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn’t fair,” I whisper, staring down at my hands, and then looking directly at him.
He raises his eyebrows, surprised, and I see he’s considering my words. He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “You’re right. I do. In life you use what you know. Doesn’t change how much I want you. Here. Now.”
How can he seduce me solely with his voice? I’m panting already—my heated blood rushing through my veins, my nerves tingling.
“I’d like to try something,” he breathes.
I frown. He’s just given me a shitload of ideas to process and now this.
“If you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about this.
It would be easy.” His voice is soft, seductive.
“All those decisions—all the wearying thought processes behind them. The ‘Is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now?’ You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that detail.
That’s what I’d do as your Dom. And right now, I know you want me, Anastasia. ”
My frown deepens. How can he tell?
“I can tell because—”
Holy shit, he’s answering my unspoken question. Is he psychic as well?
“—your body gives you away. You’re pressing your thighs together, you’re flushed, and your breathing has changed.”
Okay, this is too much.
“How do you know about my thighs?” My voice is low, disbelieving. They’re under the table, for heaven’s sake.
“I felt the tablecloth move, and it’s a calculated guess based on years of experience. I’m right, aren’t I?”
I flush and stare down at my hands. That’s what I’m hindered by in this game of seduction.
He’s the only one who knows and understands the rules.
I’m just too naive and inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Kate, and she doesn’t take any shit from men.
My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennet would be outraged, Jane Eyre would be too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have.
“I haven’t finished my cod.”
“You’d prefer cold cod to me?”
My head jerks up to glare at him, and his eyes burn molten silver with compelling need. “I thought you liked me to clear my plate.”
“Right now, Miss Steele, I couldn’t give a fuck about your food.”
“Christian. You just don’t fight fair.”
“I know. I never have.”
My inner goddess frowns at me. You can do this, she coaxes—play this sex god at his own game.
Can I? Okay. What to do? My inexperience is an albatross around my neck.
Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip.
Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.
Christian’s eyes widen infinitesimally, but I notice.
“Anastasia. What are you doing?”
I bite off the tip. “Eating my asparagus.”
Christian shifts in his seat. “I think you’re toying with me, Miss Steele.”
I feign innocence. “I’m just finishing my food, Mr. Grey.”
The waiter chooses this moment to knock and, unbidden, enter.
He glances briefly at Christian, who frowns at him but then nods, so the waiter clears our plates.
The waiter’s arrival has broken the spell.
And I grasp this precious moment of clarity.
I have to go. Our meeting will only end one way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense conversation.
As much as my body craves his touch, my mind is rebelling.
I need some distance to think about all he’s said.
I still haven’t made a decision, and his sexual allure and prowess doesn’t make it any easier.
“Would you like some dessert?” Christian asks, ever the gentleman, but his eyes still blaze.
“No thank you. I think I should go.” I stare down at my hands.
“Go?” He can’t hide his surprise.
The waiter leaves hastily.
“Yes.” It’s the right decision. If I stay here, in this room with him, he will fuck me. I stand, purposefully. “We both have the graduation ceremony tomorrow.”
Christian stands automatically, revealing years of ingrained civility. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Please, I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve given me so much to consider, and I need some distance.”