Fifty Shades Freed

“Yes.” I moan.

His hand moves back to concentrate on my nipple once more and his teeth scrape along my jaw. “Do you know how hot you are, Ana?” His voice is hoarse as he rocks harder against me. I open my mouth to articulate a response and fail miserably, groaning loudly. He captures my mouth once more, tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth before plunging his tongue into my mouth again. He releases my other wrist and my hands travel greedily up his shoulders and into his hair as he kisses me. When I pull on his hair, he groans and raises his eyes to mine.

“Ah…”

“Do you like me touching you?” I whisper.

His brow furrows briefly as if he doesn’t understand the question. He stops grinding against me. “Of course I do. I love you touching me, Ana. I’m like a starving man at a banquet when it comes to your touch.” His voice hums with passionate sincerity.

Holy cow…

He kneels between my legs and drags me up to haul off my top. I’m naked beneath. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he yanks it over his head and tosses it on the floor, then pulls me onto his kneeling lap, his arms clasped just above my behind.

“Touch me,” he breathes.

Oh my… Tentatively I reach up and brush the tips of my fingers through the smattering of chest hair over his sternum, over his burn scars. He inhales sharply and his pupils dilate, but it’s not with fear. It’s a sensual response to my touch. He watches me intently as my fingers float delicately over his skin, first to one nipple and then the other. They pucker beneath my caress. Leaning forward, I plant soft kisses on his chest, and my hands move to his shoulders, feeling the hard, sculptured lines of sinew and muscle. Jeez… he’s in good shape.

“I want you,” he murmurs and it’s a green light to my libido. My fingers move into his hair, pulling his head back so I can claim his mouth, fire licking hot and high in my belly. He groans and pushes me back onto the couch. He sits up and rips off my sweatpants, undoing his fly at the same time.

“Home run,” he whispers, and swiftly he fills me.

“Ah…” I groan and he stills, grabbing my face between his hands.

“I love you, Mrs. Grey,” he murmurs and very slowly, very gently, he makes love to me until I come apart at the seams, calling his name and wrapping myself around him, never wanting to let him go.

I lay sprawled on his chest. We’re on the floor of the TV room.

“You know, we completely bypassed third base.” My fingers trace the line of his pectoral muscles.

He laughs. “Next time, Mrs. Grey.” He kisses the top of my head.

I look up to stare at the television screen where the end credits for The X-Files play. Christian reaches for the remote and switches the sound back on.

“You liked that show?” I ask.

“When I was a kid.”

Oh… Christian as a kid… kickboxing and X Files and no touching.

“You?” he asks.

“Before my time.”

“You’re so young.” Christian smiles fondly. “I like making out with you, Mrs. Grey.”

“Likewise, Mr. Grey.” I kiss his chest, and we lie silently watching as The X-Files finish and the commercials come on.

“It’s been a heavenly three weeks. Car chases and fires and psycho ex-bosses notwithstanding. Like being in our own private bubble,” I mutter dreamily.

“Hmm,” Christian hums deep in his throat. “I’m not sure I’m ready to share you with the rest of the world yet.”

“Back to reality tomorrow,” I murmur, trying to keep the melancholy from my voice.

Christian sighs and runs his other hand through his hair. “Security will be tight-” I put my finger over his lips. I don’t want to hear this lecture again.

“I know. I’ll be good. I promise.” Which reminds me… I shift, propping myself up on my elbows to see him better. “Why were you shouting at Sawyer?”

He stiffens immediately. Oh shit.

“Because we were followed.”

“That wasn’t Sawyer’s fault.”

He gazes at me levelly. “They should never have let you get so far in front. They know that.”

I blush guiltily and resume my position, resting on his chest. It was my fault. I wanted to get away from them.

“That wasn’t-”

“Enough!” Christian is suddenly curt. “This is not up for discussion, Anastasia. It’s a fact, and they won’t let it happen again.”

Anastasia! I am Anastasia when I am in trouble just like at home with my mother.

“Okay,” I mutter, placating him. I don’t want to fight. “Did Ryan catch up with the woman in the Dodge?”

“No. And I’m not convinced it was a woman.”

“Oh?” I look up again.

“Sawyer saw someone with their hair tied back, but it was a brief look. He assumed it was a woman. Now, given that you’ve identified that fucker, maybe it was him. He wore his hair like that.” The disgust in Christian’s voice is palpable.

I don’t know what to make of this news. Christian runs his hand down my naked back, distracting me.

“If anything happened to you…,” he murmurs, his eyes wide and serious.

“I know,” I whisper. “I feel the same about you.” I shiver at the thought.

“Come. You’re getting cold,” he says, sitting up. “Let’s go to bed. We can cover third base there.” He smiles a lascivious smile, as mercurial as ever, passionate, angry, anxious, sexy-my Fifty Shades. I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet, and without a stitch on, I follow him through the great room to the bedroom.

The following morning, Christian squeezes my hand as we pull up outside SIP. He looks very much the powerful executive in his dark navy suit and matching tie, and I smile. He’s not been this smart since the ballet in Monaco.

“You know you don’t have to do this?” Christian murmurs. I am tempted to roll my eyes at him.

“I know,” I whisper, not wanting Sawyer and Ryan to overhear me from the front of the Audi. He frowns and I smile.

“But I want to,” I continue. “You know this.” I lean up and kiss him. His frown doesn’t disappear. “What’s wrong?”He glances uncertainly at Ryan as Sawyer climbs out of the car. “I’ll miss having you to myself.”

I reach up to caress his face. “Me, too.” I kiss him. “It was a wonderful honeymoon. Thank you.”

“Go to work, Mrs. Grey.”

“You, too, Mr. Grey.”

Sawyer opens the door. I squeeze Christian’s hand once more before I climb out onto the sidewalk. As I head into the building, I give him a little wave. Sawyer holds open the door and follows me in.

“Hi, Ana.” Claire smiles from behind the reception desk.

“Claire, hello.” I smile back.

“You look wonderful. Good honeymoon?”

“The best, thank you. How’s it been here?”

“Old man Roach is the same, but security has been stepped up and our server room is being overhauled. But Hannah will tell you.”

Sure she will. I give Claire a friendly smile and head to my office.

Hannah is my assistant. She is tall, slim, and ruthlessly efficient to the point that sometimes I find her a little intimidating. But she’s sweet to me, in spite of the fact that she’s a couple of years older. She has my latte waiting-the only coffee I let her get for me.

“Hi, Hannah,” I say warmly.

“Ana, how was your honeymoon?”