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Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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“Kinky fuckery?” she squeaks in disbelief.
“Kinky fuckery.”
“I can’t believe you said that.” She looks anxiously at Taylor again.
“Well, I did. Answer me.”
“I like your kinky fuckery,” she whispers.
Oh, baby, so do I.
I’m relieved. Step one…okay. Keep cool, Grey.
“That’s what I thought. So what don’t you like?”
She’s silent for a moment, and I know she’s scrutinizing me in the light and shadows of the intermittent
street lamps. “The threat of cruel and unusual punishment,” she says.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you have all those—” She stops, glancing at Taylor once more, and her voice lowers. “Things in
your playroom, the canes, and whips, and they frighten the living daylights out of me. I don’t want you
to use them on me.”
This, I have worked out for myself.
“Okay, so no whips or canes. Or belts, for that matter,” I add, unable to keep the irony out of my voice.
“Are you attempting to redefine the hard limits?” she asks.
“Not as such. I’m just trying to understand you—get a clearer picture of what you do and don’t like.”
“Fundamentally, Christian, it’s your joy in inflicting pain that’s difficult for me to handle. And the idea that
you’ll do it because I have crossed some arbitrary line.”
Hell. She knows me. She has seen the monster. I’m not going there, or I will blow this deal. I ignore her
first comment and concentrate on her second point. “But it’s not arbitrary—the rules are written down.”
“I don’t want a set of rules.”
“None at all?”
Fuck—she might touch me. How can I protect myself from that? And suppose she does something
stupid that puts herself at risk?
“No rules,” she states, shaking her head for emphasis.
Okay, million-dollar question.
“But you don’t mind if I spank you?”
“Spank me with what?”
“This.” I hold up my hand.
She shifts in her seat, and a silent, sweet joy unfurls deep in my gut. Oh, baby, I love it when you
squirm.
“No, not really. Especially with those silver balls…”
My cock stirs at the thought. Damn. I cross my legs. “Yes, that was fun.”
“More than fun,” she adds.
“So you can deal with some pain.” I can’t keep the hope out of my voice.
“Yes, I suppose.” She shrugs.
Okay. So we may be able to structure a relationship around this.
Deep breath, Grey, give her the terms.
“Anastasia, I want to start again. Do the vanilla thing and then maybe, once you trust me more—and I
trust you to be honest and to communicate with me—we could move on and do some of the things that
I like to do.”
That’s it.
Fuck. My heart rate escalates; blood thrums through my body, pounding past my eardrums as I wait for
her reaction. My well-being hangs in the balance. And she says…nothing! She stares at me as we pass
under a streetlight and I see her clearly. She’s assessing me. Her eyes still impossibly large in her
beautiful, thinner, sadder face.
Oh, Ana.
“But what about punishments?” she says finally.
I close my eyes. It’s not a no. “No punishments. None.”
“And the rules?”
“No rules.”
“None at all? But you have needs…” Her voice trails off.
“I need you more, Anastasia. These last few days have been hell. All my instincts tell me to let you go,
tell me I don’t deserve you. “Those photos the boy took—I can see how he sees you. You look
untroubled and beautiful, not that you’re not beautiful now, but here you sit. I see your pain. It’s so hard
knowing that I’m the one who has made you feel this way.”
It’s killing me, Ana.
“But I’m a selfish man. I’ve wanted you since you fell into my office. You are exquisite, honest, warm,
strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless. I am in awe of you. I want you, and the thought of
anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul.”
Fuck. Flowery, Grey! Real flowery.
I’m like a man possessed. I’m going to scare her off.
“Christian, why do you think you have a dark soul?” she cries out, totally surprising me. “I would never
say that. Sad maybe, but you’re a good man. I can see that—you’re generous, you’re kind, and you’ve
never lied to me. And I haven’t tried very hard. Last Saturday was such a shock to my system. It was
my wake-up call. I realized that you’d been easy on me, and that I couldn’t be the person you wanted
me to be. Then, after I left, it dawned on me that the physical pain you inflicted was not as bad as the
pain of losing you. I do want to please you, but it’s hard.”
“You please me all the time.” When will she understand this? “How often do I have to tell you that?”
“I never know what you’re thinking.”
She doesn’t? Baby, you read me like one of your books; except I’m not the hero. I’ll never be the hero.
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