Fifty Shades Book 1 - Page 106

"I need the bathroom." My voice is a whisper.

He frowns, bemused.

"Now you're asking permission?"

"Err... no."

"Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don't need my permission to use it." He cannot hide his irritation. He shrugs out of his s.h.i.+rt, and I scoot into the bathroom.

I stare at myself in the over-large mirror, shocked that I still look the same. After all that I've done today, it's still the same ordinary girl gaping back at me. What did you expect - that you'd grow horns and a little pointy tail My subconscious snaps at me. And what the h.e.l.l are you doingTouching is his hard limit. Too soon, you idiot, he needs to walk before he can run. My subconscious is furious, medusa-like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch's Scream. I ignore her, but she won't climb back into her box. You are making him mad - think about all that's he's said, all he's conceded. I scowl at my reflection. I need to be able to show him affection - then perhaps he can reciprocate.

I shake my head resigned and grasp Christian's toothbrush. My subconscious is right of course. I'm rus.h.i.+ng him. He's not ready and neither am I. We are balanced on the delicate see-saw, that is our strange arrangement - at different ends, vacillating, and it tips and sways between us. We both need to edge closer to the middle. I just hope neither of us falls off in our attempt to do so. This is all so quick. Maybe I need some distance. Georgia seems more appealing than ever. As I begin brus.h.i.+ng my teeth, he knocks.

"Come in," I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Christian stands in the doorway, his PJs hanging off his hips - in that way that makes every little cell in my body stand up and take notice. He's bare-chested, and I drink him in like I'm crazed with thirst and he's clear cool mountain spring water. He gazes at me impa.s.sively, then smirks and comes to stand beside me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, gray to blue. I finish with his toothbrush, rinse it off, and hand it to him, my look never leaving his. Wordlessly, he takes the toothbrush from me and puts it in his mouth. I smirk back at him, and his eyes are suddenly dancing with humor.

"Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush." His tone is gently mocking.

"Thank you, Sir," I smile sweetly, and I leave, heading back to bed.

A few minutes later he joins me.

"You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out," he mutters petulantly.

"Imagine if I said to you that you couldn't touch me."

He clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged.

"Anastasia, I've told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life - you don't want that s.h.i.+t in your head. Why would you?"

"Because I want to know you better."

"You know me well enough."

"How can you say that?" I struggle up onto my knees, facing him.

He rolls his eyes at me, frustrated.

"You're rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee."

"Oh, I'd like to put you there again."

Inspiration hits me.

"Tell me and you can."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You're bargaining with me?" His voice resonates with astonished disbelief.

I nod. Yes... this is the way.

"Negotiating."

"It doesn't work that way, Anastasia."

"Okay. Tell me, and I'll roll my eyes at you."

He laughs, and I get a rare glimpse of carefree Christian. I've not seen him for a while.

He sobers.

"Always so keen and eager for information." His gray eyes blaze with speculation.

After a moment, he gracefully climbs off the bed. "Don't go away," he says and exits the room.

Trepidation lances through me, and I hug myself. What's he doingDoes he have some evil planc.r.a.p. Suppose he returns with a cane, or some weird kinky implement?

Holy s.h.i.+t, what will I do then When he does return, he's holding something small in his hands. I can't see what it is, and I'm burning with curiosity.

"When's your first interview tomorrow?" he asks softly.

"Two."

A slow wicked grin spreads across his face.

"Good." And before my eyes, he subtly changes. He's harder, intractable... hot. This is Dominant Christian.

"Get off the bed. Stand over here." He points to beside the bed, and I scramble up and off in double-quick time. He stares intently down at me, his eyes glittering with promise.

"Trust me?" he asks softly.

I nod. He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two round, s.h.i.+ny, silver b.a.l.l.s, linked with a thick black thread.

"These are new," he says emphatically.

I look questioningly up at him.

"I am going to put these inside you, and then I'm going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine." He pauses, gauging my wide-eyed reaction.

Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner G.o.ddess is doing the dance of the seven veils.

"Then we'll f**k, and if you're still awake, I'll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?"

He's asking my permission! Breathlessly, I nod. I'm incapable of speech.

"Good girl. Open your mouth."

Mouth?

"Wider."

Very gently, he puts the b.a.l.l.s in my mouth.

"They need lubrication. Suck," he orders, his voice soft.

The b.a.l.l.s are cold, smooth, surprisingly heavy, and metallic tasting. My dry mouth pools with saliva as my tongue explores the unfamiliar objects. Christian's gray gaze does not leave mine. Holy h.e.l.l, this is turning me on. I squirm slightly.

"Keep still, Anastasia," he warns.