Chapter Twenty
Christian bursts through the wooden door of the boathouse and pauses to flick on some switches.
Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building.
From my upside-down view, I can see an impressive cruiser in the dock floating gently on the dark water, but I only get a brief look before he’s carrying me up some wooden stairs to the room above.
He pauses at the doorway and flips another switch—halogens, this time, that are softer, on a dimmer—and we’re in an attic room with sloping ceilings.
It’s decorated with a nautical New England theme: navy blues and creams with dashes of red.
The furnishings are sparse. Just a couple of couches are all I can see.
Christian sets me on my feet on the wooden floor.
I don’t have time to examine my surroundings—my eyes can’t leave him.
I’m mesmerized…watching him like one would watch a rare and dangerous predator, waiting for him to strike.
His breathing is harsh, but then he’s just carried me across the lawn and up a flight of stairs.
Gray eyes blaze with anger, need, and pure unadulterated lust.
Holy shit. I could spontaneously combust from his look alone.
“Please don’t hit me,” I whisper, pleading.
His brow furrows, his eyes widening. He blinks twice.
“I don’t want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don’t.”
His mouth drops open in surprise, and beyond brave, I tentatively reach up and run my fingers down his cheek, along the edge of his sideburn, to the stubble on his chin.
It’s a curious mixture of soft and prickly.
Slowly closing his eyes, he leans his face into my touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.
Reaching up with my other hand, I run my fingers into his hair.
I love his hair. His soft moan is barely audible, and when he opens his eyes, his look is wary, like he doesn’t understand what I’m doing.
Stepping forward so I am flush against him, I pull gently on his hair, bringing his mouth down to mine, and I kiss him, forcing my tongue between his lips and into his mouth.
He groans, and his arms embrace me, pulling me to him.
His hands find their way into my hair, and he kisses me back, hard and possessive.
His tongue and mine twist and turn together, consuming each other. He tastes divine.
He pulls back suddenly, our collective breathing ragged and mingling. My hands drop to his arms, and he glares down at me.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispers, confused.
“Kissing you.”
“You said no.”
“What?” No to what?
“At the dinner table, with your legs.”
Oh…that’s what this is all about.
“But we were at your parents’ dining table.” I stare up at him, completely bewildered.
“No one’s ever said no to me before. And it’s so…hot.”
His eyes widen, filled with wonder and lust. It’s a heady mix. I swallow instinctively. His hand moves down to my behind. He pulls me sharply against him, against his erection.
Oh my…
“You’re mad and turned on because I said no?” I’m astonished.
“I’m mad because you never mentioned Georgia to me.
I’m mad because you went drinking with that guy who tried to seduce you when you were drunk, and who left you when you were ill with an almost complete stranger.
What kind of friend does that? And I’m mad and aroused because you closed your legs on me. ”
His eyes glitter dangerously, and he’s slowly inching up the hem of my dress.
“I want you, and I want you now. And if you’re not going to let me spank you, which you deserve, then I’m going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours.”
My dress is now barely covering my naked behind. He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I suppress my moan.
“This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning.
“Yes, yours. Do it,” I breathe as desire, hot and heavy, surges through my bloodstream, affecting…everything. My nerve endings, my breathing. My heart is pounding, trying to leave my chest, the blood thrumming in my ears.
Abruptly, he moves, doing several things at once: withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting, unzipping his fly, and pushing me down onto the couch so he’s lying on top of me.
“Hands on your head,” he commands through gritted teeth as he kneels, forcing my legs wider, and reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He takes out a foil packet, gazing down at me, his expression dark, before shrugging off his jacket so it falls to the floor.
He rolls the condom down over his impressive length.
I place my hands on my head, and I know it’s so I won’t touch him. I’m so turned on. I feel my hips already moving up to meet him, wanting him inside me, like this—rough and hard. Oh…the anticipation.
“We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand? Don’t come or I will spank you,” he says through clenched teeth.
Holy crap…how do I stop?
With one swift thrust, he’s fully inside me.
I groan loudly, gutturally, and revel in the fullness of his possession.
He puts his hands on mine on top of my head, his elbows hold my arms out and down, and his legs pinion me.
I’m trapped. He’s everywhere, overwhelming me, almost suffocating.
But it’s heavenly, too—this is my power, this is what I do to him, and it’s a hedonistic, triumphant feeling.
He moves quickly and furiously inside me, his breathing harsh at my ear, and my body responds, melting around him.
I mustn’t come. No. But I’m meeting him thrust for thrust, a perfect counterpoint.
Abruptly, and all too soon, he rams into me and stills as he finds his release, air hissing through his teeth.
He relaxes momentarily, so I feel his entire, delicious weight on me.
I’m not ready to let him go, my body craving relief, but he’s so heavy, and in that moment, I can’t push against him.
All of a sudden, he withdraws, leaving me aching and hungry for more. He glares down at me.
“Don’t touch yourself. I want you frustrated. That’s what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what’s mine.” His eyes blaze anew, angry again.
I nod, panting. He stands and removes the condom, knotting it at the end, and puts it in his pants pocket.
I gaze at him, my breathing still erratic, and involuntarily I squeeze my thighs together, trying to find some relief.
Christian does up his fly and runs his hand through his hair as he reaches down to collect his jacket.
He turns back to gaze down at me, his expression softer.
“We’d better get back to the house.”
I sit up, a little unsteadily, dazed.
“Here. You may put these on.”
From his inside pocket, he produces my panties. I don’t grin as I take them from him, but inside I know—I’ve taken a punishment fuck but gained a small victory over the panties. My inner goddess nods in agreement, a satisfied grin over her face: You didn’t have to ask for them.
“Christian!” Mia shouts from the floor below.
He turns and raises his eyebrows at me. “Just in time. Christ, she can be really irritating.”
I scowl back at him, hastily restore my panties to their rightful place, and stand with as much dignity as I can muster in my just-fucked state. Quickly, I attempt to smooth my just-fucked hair.
“Up here, Mia,” he calls down. “Well, Miss Steele, I feel better for that—but I still want to spank you,” he says softly.
“I don’t believe I deserve it, Mr. Grey, especially after tolerating your unprovoked attack.”
“Unprovoked? You kissed me.” He tries his best to look wounded.
I purse my lips. “It was attack as the best form of defense.”
“Defense against what?”
“You and your twitchy palm.”
He cocks his head to one side and smiles at me as Mia comes clattering up the stairs. “But it was tolerable?” he asks softly.
I flush. “Barely,” I whisper, but I can’t help my smirk.
“Oh, there you are!” She beams at us.
“I was showing Anastasia around.” Christian holds his hand out to me, his gray eyes intense.
I put my hand into his, and he gives it a soft squeeze.
“Kate and Elliot are about to leave. Can you believe those two? They can’t keep their hands off each other.” Mia feigns disgust and looks from Christian to me. “What have you been doing in here?”
She’s so forward. My face must be scarlet.
“Showing Anastasia my rowing trophies,” Christian says without missing a beat, completely poker-faced. “Let’s go say goodbye to Kate and Elliot.”
Rowing trophies? He pulls me gently in front of him, and as Mia turns to go, he swats my behind. I gasp in surprise.
“I will do it again, Anastasia, and soon,” he threatens quietly close to my ear, then he pulls me into an embrace, my back to his front, and kisses my hair.
Back in the house, Kate and Elliot are making their farewells to Grace and Mr. Grey. Kate hugs me hard.
“I need to speak to you about antagonizing Christian,” I hiss quietly in her ear as she embraces me.
“He needs antagonizing. Then you can see what he’s really like. Be careful, Ana—he’s so controlling,” she whispers. “See you later.”
I KNOW WHAT HE’S REALLY LIKE—YOU DON’T! I scream at her in my head.
I’m fully aware that her actions come from a good place, but sometimes she just oversteps boundaries, and right now she’s so far over that she’s in the neighboring state.
I scowl, and she pokes her tongue out at me, making me smile.
Playful Kate is novel. Must be Elliot’s influence.
We wave them off at the doorway, and Christian turns to me. “We should go, too—you have interviews tomorrow.”
Mia embraces me warmly as we say our goodbyes. “We never thought he’d find anyone!” she gushes.