I watch him move gracefully about the cabin as he dresses. He really is divinely beautiful, and what’s more, he’s just made such sweet love to me again. I can hardly believe my good fortune. I can’t quite believe that this man is mine.
I cock my head to one side. “You are master of my heart, Mr. Grey.” And my body . . . and my soul.
“I’m still me, Anastasia—in all my fifty shades of fuckedupness. Yes, I have to fight the urge to be controlling . . . but that’s my nature, how I’ve dealt with my life. Yes, I expect you to behave a certain way, and when you don’t it’s both challenging and refreshing. We still do what I like to do. You let me spank you after your outrageous bid yesterday.” He smiles fondly at the memory. “I enjoy punishing you. I don’t think the urge will ever go . . . but I’m trying, and it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”
Why is this so hard to talk about? I have done all manner of kinky fuckery with this man, things I hadn’t even heard of a few weeks ago, things that I would never have thought possible, yet the hardest of all is talking to him.
Yes, he took her to places she never imagined with all of his kinky fuckery.
“You are not allowed out of here alone. You understand?” he snaps.
“Okay.” Jeez—keep your hair on. But his attitude makes me smile. I want to hug myself—now this man, all domineering and short with me I know. I marvel that I would have found it so threatening only a week or so ago when he spoke to me this way. But now, I understand him so much better. This is his coping mechanism. He’s stressed about Leila, he loves me, and he wants to protect me.
Or maybe he’s just a possessive, insecure asshole. But then you’d come up with a reasonable excuse for it, wouldn’t you, Ana?
“Don’t flirt with the staff, Anastasia,” he scolds.
I open my mouth to defend myself—then close it again, then open it. “I wasn’t flirting. I was being friendly—there is a difference.”
“Don’t be friendly with the staff or flirt with them. I don’t like it.”
Oh. Good-bye, carefree Christian. “I’m sorry,’”I mutter and stare down at my fingers. He hasn’t made me feel like a child all day. Reaching down he cups my chin, pulling my head up to meet his eyes.
“You know how jealous I am,” he whispers.
“You have no reason to be jealous, Christian. You own me body and soul.”
What the fuck is this shit? She was just trying to be friendly, and Christian acts like she’s flirting and throwing herself at Taylor. When he admonishes her for it, she capitulates to him. How fucked up is this? Ana wasn’t doing anything wrong. Christian is the one who should be sorry.
“I want you sleeping with me. I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me.”
“You have nightmares?”
I tighten my hold around him. Holy cow. More baggage. My heart contracts for this man.
“Do you think I am going to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you’re off being Master of the Universe?”
“Frankly . . . Yes.”
And that’s it for this week! Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!