Hello, all! Time for another recap of Fifty Shades Freed! We’re wrapping this up, but we still have a few good chapters and some bonus material to get through!
“Blip will love you, too. You’ll be the center of Blip’s — Junior’s world,” I whisper. “Children love their parents unconditionally, Christian. That’s how they come into the world. Programmed to love. All babies . . . even you. Think about that children’s book you liked when you were small. You still wanted your mom. You loved her.”
In my experience, babies are selfish little shits who want you to cater to their every need. Just like Christian!
Christian has been laid back ever since “the talk.” It’s as if a weight has been lifted; Mrs. Robinson’s shadow no longer looms so large over us, maybe because I’ve decided to let it go — or because he has, I don’t know. But I feel closer to him now than I ever have before. Perhaps because he’s finally confided in me. I hope he continues to do so. And he’s more accepting of the baby, too. He hasn’t gone out and bought a crib yet, but I have high hopes.
I gaze at him, drinking him in as he drives. He looks casual, cool . . . sexy with his tousled hair, Ray-Bans, pinstripe jacket, white linen shirt, and jeans.
“Ros, how much stock do we own in Lincoln Timber?” He kneels up.
My scalp prickles. Oh no, what’s this?
“So, consolidate the shares into GEH, then fire the board . . . except the CEO . . . I don’t give a fuck . . . I hear you, just do it . . . thank you . . . keep me informed.” He hangs up, and gazes at me impassively for a moment.
Holy shit. Desire detonates like an incendiary device igniting my bloodstream. I grasp his head, my fingers weaving into his hair, and tug hard so my lips find his. He gasps, surprised by my assault, giving my tongue free passage into his mouth.
These sentences really squick me out for some reason. Purple prose, indeed!
“Go,” he whispers, and he lifts me up and down. My inner goddess is unleashed, and I push him down on the ground and start to move, savoring the feeling of him inside me . . . riding him . . . riding him hard.
And then he got so excited he finished and then it was over. So much for him being this great sex god.
Diving into the closet, I pull out Christian’s faded jeans — his playroom jeans, my favorite jeans — from the drawer. From my bedside table I pick up my BlackBerry, fold the jeans neatly, and kneel by the bedroom door. The door is ajar, and I can hear the strains of another piece, one I don’t know. But it’s another hopeful tune; it’s lovely. Quickly I type an email.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure
Date: September 21, 2011 20:45
To: Christian Grey
I await your instructions.
Jeez . . . Life is never going to be boring with Christian, and I’m in this for the long haul. I love this man: my husband, my lover, father of my child, my sometimes Dominant . . . my Fifty Shades.
She doesn’t sound too enthusiastic about it with that “Jeez,” does she?
And that’s it for this chapter and for this week, but there’s more to come! Have a happy Thanksgiving!