Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

grins.
    “Today, it’s The Piano .”
    His grin is infectious.
    “Of course. Silly me. Such a sad, exciting score, which no doubt you can play? So many accomplishments, Mr. Grey.”
    “And the greatest one is you, Miss Steele.”
    “So I am number seventeen.”
    He frowns at me not comprehending.
    “Seventeen?”
    “Number of women you’ve um… had sex with.”
    His lips quirk up, his eyes shining with incredulity.
    “Not exactly.”
    “You said fifteen,” My confusion is obvious.
    “I was referring to the number of women in my playroom. I thought that’s what you meant. You didn’t ask me how many women I’d had sex with.”
    “Oh.” Holy shit… there’s more… How? I gape at him. “Vanilla?”
    “No. You are my one vanilla conquest,” he shakes his head, still grinning at me.
    Why does he find this funny? And why am I grinning back at him like an idiot?
    “I can’t give you a number. I didn’t put notches in the bedpost or anything.”
    “What are we talking – tens, hundreds… thousands?” My eyes grow wilder as the numbers get larger.
    “Tens. We’re in the tens, for pity’s sake.”
    “All submissives?”
    “Yes.”
    “Stop grinning at me,” I scold him mildly, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
    “I can’t. You’re funny.”
    “Funny peculiar or funny ha ha?”
    “A bit of both I think.” His words mirror mine.
    “That’s a damned cheek, coming from you.”
    He leans across and kisses the tip of my nose.
    “This will shock you, Anastasia. Ready?”
    I nod, wide-eyed, still with the stupid grin on my face.
    “All submissives in training, when I was training. There are places in and around Seattle that one can go and practice. Learn to do what I do,” he says.
    What?
    “Oh.” I blink at him.
    “Yep, I’ve paid for sex, Anastasia.”
    “That’s nothing to be proud of,” I mutter haughtily. “And you’re right… I am deeply shocked. And cross that I can’t shock you.”
    “You wore my underwear.”
    “Did that shock you?”
    “Yes.” My inner goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar.
    “You didn’t wear your panties to meet my parents.”
    “Did that shock you?”
    “Yes.”
    Jeez, the bar’s moved to sixteen feet.
    “It seems I can only shock you in the underwear department.”
    “You told me you were a virgin. That’s the biggest shock I’ve ever had.”
    “Yes, your face was a picture, a Kodak moment.” I giggle.
    “You let me work you over with a riding crop.”
    “Did that shock you?”
    “Yep.”
    I grin.
    “Well, I may let you do it again.”
    “Oh, I do hope so, Miss Steele. This weekend?”
    “Okay,” I agree, shyly.
    “Okay?”
    “Yes. I’ll go to the Red Room of Pain again.”
    “You say my name.”
    “That shocks you?”
    “The fact that I like it shocks me.”
    “Christian.”
    He grins.
    “I want to do something tomorrow.” His eyes glow with excitement.
    “What?”
    “A surprise. For you.” His voice is low and soft.
    I raise an eyebrow and stifle a yawn at the same time.
    “Am I boring you, Miss Steele?” His tone is sardonic.
    “Never.”
    He leans across and kisses me gently on my lips.
    “Sleep,” he commands, then switches off the light.
    And in this quiet moment as I close my eyes, spent and sated, I think I’m in the eye of the storm. And in spite of all he’s said, and what he hasn’t said, I don’t think I have ever been so happy.

Christian stands in a steel-barred cage. Wearing his soft, ripped jeans, his chest and feet are mouthwateringly naked, and he’s staring at me. His private-joke smile is etched on his beautiful face and his eyes a molten gray. In his hands he holds a bowl of strawberries. He ambles with athletic grace to the front of the cage, gazing intently at me. Holding up a plump ripe strawberry, he extends his hand through the bars.
    “Eat,” he says, his tongue caressing the front of his palate as he enunciates the ‘T’.
    I try and move toward him, but I’m tethered, held back by some unseen force around my wrist, holding me. Let me go.
    “Come, eat,” he says, smiling his delicious crooked smile.
    I pull and pull… let me go! I want to scream and shout, but no sound emerges. I am mute. He stretches a little further, and the strawberry is at my lips.
    “Eat, Anastasia.” His mouth forms my name, lingering sensually on each syllable.
    I open my mouth and bite, the cage disappears, and my hands are free. I reach up to touch him, graze my fingers