I have a rare moment alone the night before Christian’s birthday and I take full advantage of it. Poor Gail has come down with a horrible flu that has had her stuck in bed for three days now, so I’ve been on my own when it comes to birthday preparations. It hasn’t been easy since Christian doesn’t seem to want to spend a single moment apart from one another that we aren’t forced to because of work. He had therapy with Flynn tonight, though, so the moment he was out the door with Taylor, I went to the grocery store to buy the things I needed to bake his birthday cake and prepare my best meal for him, with Prescott dragging along behind me. I frown as I put the last of the groceries in the fridge. My negotiation skills with Christian haven’t been as effective as they normally are over the past week and a half and I still haven’t been able to get Luke back as my CPO. He’s been moved back to Grey House while I’m constantly followed around by Prescott, the wet mop.

It hasn’t been all terrible though… Luke’s responsibilities at GEH are not as time consuming as his job being my personal body guard was so he’s had time to look into Elena and try and find some proof that she’s the one leaking things to the paparazzi about Christian and I. He hasn’t been able to find irrefutable proof yet, but I know it’s her. She’s the only person it could be… The Google Alerts haven’t stopped since Christian’s been home, they just include him now. They stopped for the two days Elena was in New York, but not four hours after she was back, there was a picture of me talking to Jack Hyde outside of SIP that was spun on TMZ as a “lover’s quarrel”. Last weekend Christian was “picking up a girl in a coffee shop” because he’d run down to the corner to get us coffee and muffins and some girl waiting in line had dropped her keys. Whoever it is leaking the photos got a picture of him handing them back to her, but in the photo, it looked like he was holding her hand and smiling down at her, “with unmistakeable love in his eyes”.

I shake that image away immediately, feeling a flash of guilt that I let it get to me at all. I know it was nothing, and I can’t allow myself to be jealous over pictures of him if I expect him to keep a cool head about pictures posted of me.

Once I have everything from tonight’s trip to the store put away in the kitchen, I hurry into the bedroom, to make sure everything I have set aside for tomorrow night is tucked discreetly away under the bed. Again, I run my fingers through the leather straps of the flogger that Christian had ordered last weekend, taking solace in the fact that it is not the same one that Elena had tried to give me in that sex shop. We’ve actually purchased quite a few things and even just looking through some of the websites together online has led to some… interesting and hot nights, but we haven’t used any of this stuff yet. I’m not really sure what he’s waiting for, I’ve been dying to put some of these things to use all week…

I smile to myself as I tuck the flogger back into it’s case and slide it easily under the bed with the rest of the items I’ve pulled aside. They’ll all be put to very good use tomorrow night.

The low ping of the elevator echos in the empty apartment behind me so I quickly push the case under the bed, straighten out the comforter to hide the evidence I’d been in here, and make my way back out to the living room. I pause when I see Christian come out of the foyer. He looks almost… shell shocked. He’s been increasingly agitated coming home from therapy over the last week, but this is different. This isn’t anger or irritation. He looks gaunt.

Shit, what did they talk about?

“Hey,” I greet him and he looks up to me, the corner of his mouth turns up into a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey,” He replies, his voice almost hoarse, and it just exacerbates my concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He says, unconvincingly. “I have some work to finish, calls to make… I’ll be in my office.”

“Okay… do you want me to bring you something to eat?” I ask. It’s almost eight and he hasn’t eaten dinner yet and a small part of me secretly hopes that’s the reason for his mood. Though I’m not counting on it.

“Yes. Please,” He says, giving me the same weak smile and then turning down the hallway towards his office.

He spends the rest of the night locked away and working. I try to leave him alone for as long as possible, giving him the space he clearly wants in this moment, but eventually, I find myself pacing in front of his office door, listening to him yelling at different members of his staff, trying to deduce if he’s acting strange because of something going on at work, or something he discussed in therapy. It’s impossible to tell by the muffled words I hear him shouting through his office door and eventually those stop too.

At a quarter past ten, I stick my head through the door and look at him cautiously, not sure if he’s in the mood to be interrupted.

“Christian?” I ask, and he looks up at me sharply, his eyes only softening a fraction when he sees me standing there looking worried. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“I’ll be in soon,” He says flatly and I frown.

“Are you…” I want to ask if he’s okay, but I did that already and he spent the night locked away in here. I can see that he isn’t okay and I don’t want him hiding away from me in here the rest of the night because he thinks I’m waiting to pounce on him for details. I don’t think tonight is the night to push him… “Are you going into work tomorrow?” I ask, instead.

“No,” He says. “No, I want to spend my birthday with you.”

“Okay,” I smile. “I’ll wait for you in bed.”

“Goodnight, baby,” He says, and he looks back down at the laptop open in front of him, effectively dismissing me. I sigh, close the door and head off for our bedroom.

The next morning, I wake up feeling like I’m on fire. Christian’s body is flush against mine, his arms wrapped tightly around me, even his leg is resting over the top of my hip, and his heat his radiating over me like open oven. I squirm away, putting just enough distance between us so that he isn’t pressed against me and it helps. My body adjusts to the temperature change but just as I start to drift off to sleep again, he shifts and snuggles up behind me once me. I shake my head and let out a defeated sigh, but I smile a little too to know how drawn he is to me, even in his sleep. Then, he flexes his hips and I feel him press, hard and ready, into my backside.

Oh, good morning, Christian.

I look over my shoulder at him but he’s still asleep. I smile at the whole new realm of possibilities that opens up in itself.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as the plan forms in my mind and I ease away from him again and, carefully, slide out of his arms. My body tenses as he takes a sharp, intake of breath through his nose and his eyelids move a little, but he doesn’t wake. Instead, he lets out a low, sleep induced moan and rolls over onto his back. Perfect.

Once I’m sure I’m not going to wake him, I duck underneath the comforter and shimmy my way down the bed until I’m level with his hips. With the gentle precision one might attribute to a surgeon, I reach out and slowly peel his shorts down over his hips to free his erection. He moves again and I freeze, a jolt of nervous excitement racing through me like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be and am just about to get caught. When he’s still again, I lean forward, and lightly run my tongue up his length. He still doesn’t wake so I wrap my hand around him and then guide the head of his erection into my mouth, enveloping him and sucking gently until I pull him into the back of my throat.

He groans.

I hum a low sound of approval, and move my tongue back and forth over him, squeezing him with my lips, as I pull him out of my mouth and then push down onto him again. His hips flex once more, encouraging me, and I take him deeper into my mouth. His hand reaches under the comforter and his fingers twist into my hair, pulling at the roots and then pushing me back down onto him.

“Oh, Ana…” I hear him moan as he thrusts up into my mouth. “That feels so good.”

I wrap my lips around the head of his erection, sucking hard and then rolling my tongue over the lip of his frenulum. His breath hisses between his teeth as he pushes himself deep into my mouth again. I feel him brush against the back of my throat and then pull back again. I run my tongue from side to side, sucking hard and keeping my lips tight around him as he thrusts in and out of my mouth, pushing the limits of how far he can move. I feel heat blooming between my legs as I listen to the carnal sounds spilling from his lips and sense the tightness in his thighs as he writhes beneath me, inching closer and closer to release.

“Anastasia, oh…” He breathes, his fingers tightening in my hair once more. “I’m going to come in your mouth, baby.”

I can’t speak so I suck harder to reassure him rather than tell him myself. He thrusts forward again, and I pull him as far into my mouth as possible, sucking and pulling like I’m trying to swallow him. He tenses and then explodes, and the warm, bitter liquid drips down my throat. I swallow it quickly, grimacing slightly as it’s not the easiest consistency to get down, but also feeling extraordinarily accomplished at having unravelled him with only my mouth.

His hands reach down and he pulls me up, the cool, clean air outside the comforter a welcome refreshment for only a second before his lips are on mine. I moan appreciatively, feeling his arms wrap around me, his fingers gripping tightly to me, as his tongue slips into my mouth.

“That was quite the wake-up call, Miss Steele.” He says, smiling at me.

“Well it is your birthday.” I reply and his eyes twinkle with salacious promise as he sits up and rolls me onto my back.

“My birthday, huh?” He says, “Well… if that’s the case, let’s see what else I can get away with?”

Well, his mood has certainly improved since last night.

I giggle and squirm a little as his hand slides up my thigh towards my panties but just as his finger hooks beneath the band, tugging my underwear to the side, and his index and middle finger find their way inside of me, we hear a voice echo through the apartment.

“Christian, good morning!” the chipper voice calls, and we both groan as we realize it’s Grace.

“Son of a bitch,” Christian growls, and I frown as he pulls his fingers out of me, adjusts his shorts so that he’s decent once more, and then rolls out of bed and heads towards the great room. I sigh, pull back the comforter and disappear into the closet to find some clothes. Once I’m dressed, I head out of the bedroom, finding Christian and, surprisingly, his entire family, and Kate standing around the breakfast bar. Grace is making herself busy around the kitchen and she smiles when she sees me come around the corner.

“Good morning, Ana!” She says brightly.

“Good morning,” I reply, “What’s everyone doing here?”

“My mom wanted to make me breakfast for my birthday…” Christian says, not bothering to hide the fact that he seems less than pleased by this perfectly sweet gesture.

“Now, Christian,” Grace says, “I know it’s been a few years, but this is our tradition. I’ve made chocolate chip pancakes for all of your birthdays, and all of your sister’s birthdays, and all of your brother’s birthdays, since you were all little. You love them.”

“Yeah, Christian,” Elliot says with a broad grin. “It’s not like you could have had anything better to do this morning… What were you planning to do? Lay in bed all day with your girlfriend? What could you possibly do in there that would be more appealing than spending the morning eating chocolate chip pancakes with your whole family?”

“That’s enough, Elliot,” Carrick says. “Why don’t you help set the table for everyone.”

“Ah man, I always have to set the table,” He grumbles as he makes his way into the kitchen to find plates.

“That’s because you’re obnoxious and people are always trying to get rid of you,” Mia quips and he glares at her.

“Don’t you have some over-angsty teenage brooding to be doing?” He asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard you complain about how unfair the world is all day today.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to that once you get to moving out of our parents house you 24 year old mooch.”

My hand flies up to my mouth as an uncontrollable giggle escapes my lips, and Elliot’s mouth opens with shock. Christian grips tightly to his brother’s shoulder, giving him a solemn look.

“That was a pretty savage burn,” He says, fighting a smile and Elliot glares at him.

“Mom cooks me food, why would I ever leave?” He asks and Christian laughs as he moves to the cabinet next to the oven to pull out more placemats for the dining room table.

It finally feels just like old times being gathered around Christian’s table and having breakfast with his family. Even Mia isn’t acting in her, now usual, resentful manner towards Christian and I can tell how much that means to him. I have a hard time keeping the smile off my face as I watch him talking to Mia about her upcoming, and very first, professional dance recital. He’s completely enraptured with her, staring down at her in the adoring way I remember from the very first time he told me he had read Harry Potter for her.

“You’re coming to our house on Sunday, aren’t you, Christian?” Grace asks. “We’re having a barbeque for father’s day, around one o’clock.”

“Absolutely,” Christian says, “We wouldn’t miss it. Right, Ana?”

“No, of course not. Can I bring anything?”

“Just your wonderful self,” Grace smiles. “Speaking of Father’s day, how’s Bob doing, Ana? Are your parents coming out here for the holiday? We’d love to have them over to the house to catch up.”

“Oh no, uh… I think I’ll have to settle for a phone call,” I say and she frowns but nods in an understanding way.

“Do you want them to come out?” Christian asks. “I can make arrangements to fly them out here.”

“Oh, uh… no. Don’t worry about it,” I reply awkwardly. My mother isn’t exactly team Christian right now and I really don’t want to deal with the two of them in the same room until there is some headway made on that front.

“Well we should have them come at some point,” Grace says. “Maybe the Fourth of July. I’m sure they’d love to get out of that horrible Savannah heat for a few days.”

“Maybe,” I shrug, non-committal. Christian gives me a skeptical glance at my less enthusiastic response, but Grace seems placated.

“And how’s Ray?” She asks. “Have you heard from him lately?”

“Yeah,” I say, brighter now. “He seems to have finally gotten my address right and I got a letter from him a few days ago. In fact, I’m going to get to talk to him on the phone for a few minutes on Sunday.”

“That’s wonderful, dear. We’ll have to plan something special for his return.”

“That’d be great,” I say, smiling broadly at her.

Once breakfast is over and we’ve cleared away the dishes, each of the Greys pull out a brightly wrapped package or gift bag for Christian. He gets a pair of expensive looking anti-reflective sunglasses from Grace and Carrick that Grace tells us are specially made for helicopter pilots, Kate and Elliot gift him a beautifully made leather jacket by Salvatore Ferragamo, and from Mia, he unwraps a plain, platinum tie bar from Tiffany and Co.

“Thanks, Meems,” He says, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her hair. She blushes and smiles up at him.

“What about you, Ana?” Elliot asks with a sly grin. “You don’t want to let Christian open your gift in front of everyone?”

Kate snorts into her drink and I glare at her… Did she tell him what I told her I was getting Christian for his birthday, or is he just making assumptions? She shakes her head at me, a genuinely innocent look behind her eyes, and I breathe a little easier.

“Oh, she already gave me her present this morning,” Christian says with a knowing smile.

“Okay, okay…” Carrick interrupts him, and then quickly changes the subject. “Are you taking the day off, Son?” He asks.

“Yeah, we’re actually going to head down to the Marina this afternoon to take a look at boat I’m thinking of buying as a birthday gift to myself.”

“That sounds great, Christian!” Carrick says proudly. “Ah, I remember my first sailboat.”

Christian’s lips come together in a tight kind of pout and he nods along as his father tells the story. I have a feeling he’s hiding something, but I’m not sure what…

“You’re going to go out on the water this afternoon?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah, you want to come?” Christian offers and Elliot lights up.

“Hell yeah!”

Christian nods and then turns to Mia. “How about you, Meems? Wanna spend the day on the sound?”

“I can’t,” She says, not looking up from the cell phone in her hand. “I’ve got dance rehearsal this afternoon.” Christian frowns, but nods, and everyone gets up from the table so that we can head out. Grace gives me one last reminder about Sunday as she hugs me goodbye, and I feel a twinge of sadness as I tell her goodbye and watch her, Carrick and Mia walk through the foyer to the elevator. It’s like she doesn’t really expect Christian to actually show up… and as I think about it, I realize that’s probably true. Carrick and Christian have had a difficult relationship as long as I’ve known him, and it had never been worse than it had been over the last two years. It’s been good these last few weeks, but I can understand Grace’s apprehension in accepting it’s going to last. Christian’s been that way since I stepped through the doors of his office last month. Maybe he gets that untrusting nervousness from his mother.

“We should get dressed,” Christian says, interrupting my inner musings. “I’m ready to get out onto the water to enjoy our afternoon.”

Twenty minutes later, Kate, Elliot, Christian and I pile into Christian’s Maybach and head down to the Marina. Elliot presses Christian for details about the boat we’re going to look at, but he remains fairly tight lipped, and once we pull up to the Marina boat terminal in Smith Cove, I can see why.

“Ho-ly shit!” Elliot says, elongating his syllables as he looks up at the luxury yacht docked in front of us. It isn’t a boat… it’s a fucking ship.

The yacht has three decks. The lower exterior is painted a deep blue while the top sections are a clean, arctic white. It’s huge, so huge, in fact, that it doesn’t sway at all in the gentle current rolling its way towards the shore, and as I stare over the impressive luxury yacht in front of me, I look incredulously over at Christian.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” He says, a wide grin across his face. His fingers entwine with mine and he walks up the pier towards a man waiting next to the small ramp that leads to an open door at the base of the yacht.

“Mr. Grey,” The man says, smiling broadly at us as he holds his hand out to shake Christian’s. “Here she is, the Benetti 60, brought in all the way from the Dominican Republic.”

“Well, let’s see it,” Christian says, and the man nods and gestures for us all to go aboard.

He leads us through the grotesquely luxurious rooms of the yacht, all filled with a fine assortment of furniture and top end finishes. There are grand, sweeping windows surrounding us everywhere we go, giving us an amazing view of the sound around us. I have no sphere of reference to compare to the quality of this yacht, but, as we’re led up the winding marble staircase to the second level and the salesman rattles off the full list of specifications, I know it has to be one of the more impressive yachts on the market.

“She has six VIP cabins that can accommodate twelve guests, and seven additional cabins below that can house up to fifteen crew members. Your master suite cabin is just off the sitting room here, and in addition to the generous open space of the bedroom, it has his and hers bathrooms, a huge walk in closet, it’s own lounge, and a private office.”

“That’s fine,” Christian nods, looking around and examining the second sitting room we’ve been shown. I watch his eyes follow the wall up to the ceiling and he looks at it skeptically.”

“The top deck, is it helicopter accessible?” He asks.

“Yes, sir. There’s a helideck already installed on the stern section of the third deck.” He says and Christian’s eyes light up with excitement.

“Excellent. What’s her range?”

“Eight thousand nautical miles, sir,” He says, and as Christian turns to look around some more, he adds, “Would you like to take her out, Mr. Grey? Get a feel of her on the open water?”

“Yes,” Christian says. “I would.”

The salesman nods and then disappears to ask the captain to take the boat out into the sound. Kate and Elliot both excitedly rush out to the second level promenade so they can watch the boat sail away from the pier while feeling the warm, sea air whipping around them, but Christian holds me back with him.

“Let’s go check out our bedroom,” He says and I can’t help the smile that creeps across my face as he leads me into the master suite. The room is slightly rounded with floor to ceiling length windows covering one wall and a huge, beautifully made bed against the other. I crane my neck slightly to see through the door on the far side of the room that leads to what would be our own private balcony, but Christian distracts me by tugging on my wrist and pulling me into him, and then kissing me deeply.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“About the yacht?” I reply, my voice raising a little too high at the ridiculousness of the question. “It’s amazing, Christian, but don’t you think it’s a little much?”

“No,” He says, plainly. “It’s the best there is, Anastasia, and I want only the best for you. Just imagine, the two of us alone, out at sea, making love in this bed.”

I moan, a low, approving sound as I picture it, staring down at the very bed he’s speaking of. It’s right here, and we are alone…

“I don’t know how good my imagination is, Mr. Grey,” I say coyly. “Maybe you could give me a… demonstration to help sway my opinion on the yacht?”

“Oh, Miss Steele,” He says, his voice dark with salacious need. “You know that I would love nothing more than to take you here, and now, but unfortunately, I have other plans for you this afternoon.”

“Oh?” I ask, intrigued. Other plans? Maybe kinky plans..?

He crosses the room and sits down on the end of the bed, pulling out a small square box from his jacket. I stare at it dubiously, but go to him when he holds his arms out for me.

He stops me just as I’m standing in front of him, and then his fingers find their way to the front of my shorts and they quickly pull open my buttons and zipper. I glance nervously over my shoulder at the open windows behind me as he slides my shorts and my underwear down my legs.

“Don’t worry, baby,” He assures me. “That’s a private balcony. I wouldn’t let anyone else see you this way.”

I nod and then exhale with desire as he leans forward and places a single kiss over my clitoris. He looks up at me, smiling, and then opens the box to reveal two silver balls, tied together with a short, black string.

“Open your mouth,” He tells me and I do. He lifts the balls to my mouth and pushes them past my lips and onto my tongue. “Suck,” He commands, his voice only a whisper, and I feel it in my groin. I suck on the metal balls, coating them with my saliva as I anticipate what he plans to do with them. His eyes grow dark and hooded as he watches my mouth move around them.

“Turn around,” He instructs me once he’s removed the silver balls from my mouth, and when I do, he places his hand on my lower back and pushes slightly so that I bend over. “Hold onto your ankles, baby.”

I groan loudly when his lips make precious contact with my now aching center and he begins to swirl his tongue tantalizingly around my clitoris. I succumb to his expert touch, unconsciously pushing back into him as I silently, but greedily, plead for more. His mouth moves against me, sucking and licking me until I’m just on the brink of orgasm, and then he stops and gently eases the silver balls inside of me. I wait for his mouth to continue, but instead, his fingers reach down for my shorts and he pulls them up, covering me once more.

“No…” I whimper in protest, but he clicks his tongue disapprovingly in response.

“Oh no, baby. You’ve got quite aways to go before I let you come. I want to watch you… suffer a little first.”

He slaps me, hard, on the behind and the balls inside of me jolt forward. A strangled cry escapes my lips as I find myself unprepared for the sensation and then I moan again, my need apparent in my complaint, as once again I feel the burning desire and promise for release rising inside of me. He smacks me once more, the balls massaging my insides as he grabs and kneads my ass under my shorts, and I think for a minute, I might be able to come this way. But, then, he stops once more.

“You’re not very nice,” I tell him as he stands next to me and he chuckles slightly.

“Oh, Anastasia. I have been accused of being many things in the past, but nice is rarely one of them. Now, come. There’s something I want to do.”

He holds his hand out for mine and I sigh in defeat as I take it and walk out of the room with him. The balls inside of me shift as I walk, and it’s uncomfortable but in a really good way. It’s enough to keep me on the edge, wanting and needy, but not enough to give me release.

We find Kate and Elliot out on the deck and I’m surprised when we step out into the open air how far out from the coast we are. I didn’t think Christian and I had been in the bedroom for that long, but apparently, both Kate and Elliot disagree.

“I’m sorry,” Christian apologizes, when Elliot makes a comment about keeping guests waiting. “But I have something that might make it up to you.”

He signals for one of the staff members who are hovering silently behind us everywhere we go on the boat to tell the captain to stop the engines and to set anchor. Then he leads us back down to the first level of the yacht and out to the open deck at the back of the boat. Elliot’s eyes widen when he sees what’s waiting for us there.

“Jet skis!” He exclaims and I laugh as I’m immediately harkened back to our time in Bora Bora when that’s all he could think about for an entire week. He hurries forward and pulls up the seat on the one closest to him to yank out the life jackets. He throws one at Kate, who shakes her head at his tenacity, but who is also grinning as she scurries forward to help him pull the ski into the water.

Christian takes a life jacket out of the ski across from it and holds it out for me to slip my arms into. A small, knowing smile creeps across his lips as he tightens the straps around me, and then once he’s in his own life jacket, he pulls the machine forward and eases it into the water next to Kate and Elliot.

“Sit in front of me,” He says, holding his arm open as he scoots back on the ski.

“Are you sure?” I ask, dubiously. “How will you see?”

“I’ll see fine,” He assures me, and so I step off of the boat and onto the jet ski, straddling the seat in front of him. He straps the key to my life vest and then plugs it into the ignition. When he hits the green button next to it, the engine roars to life and he eases onto the throttle so that we pull easily away from the yacht. Elliot is not as cautious as Christian and he slams on the gas, sending him and Kate shooting off through the water ahead of us.

“Ready?” Christian asks, and I nod excitedly. “Hold on tight with your legs, baby. This is going to be intense.”

I grip the side of the machine with my legs and he presses down on the gas and we hurtle forward. I’m confused why he doesn’t keep a wider distance when he comes up behind Elliot, but as he steers the jet ski through Kate and Elliot’s wake… I know why.

We hit the wave and as the jet ski bounces and then slams back down on the water, the balls inside of me jerk, electrifying me once again. I gasp, loudly, and hear him chuckle behind me.

“Hold on tight, baby,” He tells me and then he steers through the wake again. When he’s no longer confined us just to Elliot’s wake, he steers us towards a particularly choppy straight of water and hits the gas. The jet ski bounces as it skims over the water, and so do the balls inside of me. As I bob up and down on the seat, I feel the heat beginning to build inside of me. Holy fuck, is he going to make me come on the jet ski?

“Christian!” I cry out, and the hand he doesn’t have on the throttle snakes around my waist to hold me in place.

“Is it too much?” He asks, his voice low and husky at my ear.

“No…” I whimper as the balls shift tantalizingly inside of me once more. “Fuck. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”

“Are you going to come, Anastasia?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, almost at the edge, and then Christian moves his thumb off the gas. The jet ski comes to an easy stop and once the bouncing ceases, so does the promising heat inside of me.

“No!” I complain and he chuckles once more.

“Not yet, baby.”

A pattern ensues, him bringing me almost to the edge and then stopping right before I tip over. I’m panting by the time we head back to the yacht, literally quivering with desire and my need for him, for release, for anything. He helps me off the jet ski, which a few staff members hurry forward to pull back onto the deck and then he takes my hand and leads me back to the main level, asking Kate and Elliot if they’d like to have some cocktails before heading back to shore.

As we sit in the main level sitting room, waiting for the unfamiliar staff to bring the drinks we’ve requested, I find myself too keyed up to pay attention to the conversation between Christian and Elliot. Kate tries to ask me about work and then, covertly, whether or not Luke has found any new information on Elena, but I’m useless for more than one word answers and simple shrugs. I feel flushed, my whole body hot as every movement twists the balls inside of me and drags out the blistering need.

And then… just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I feel the balls start to vibrate. Oh… fuck!

“Ana, what’s wrong?” Kate asks, as I physically can’t pull back my reaction to this new sensation. The vibrating stops immediately, and I shake my head at her, giving her some off handed excuse about cramps, and then turn to Christian. He doesn’t look over at me, he doesn’t look as though he’s noticed any change. He’s just sitting there, talking to Elliot. But as I settle back into my chair, wondering if I maybe just imagined the sensation in my sex crazed state of mind, I watch Christian subtly reach into his pocket and then the vibration begins again.

That kinky bastard has a remote!

“Christian!” I squeak, and as he pulls his hand out of his pocket the vibration stops, and he turns to look at me.

“Yes, baby?” He asks, a self satisfied smirk playing across his lips.

“Can I see you in private for a minute?” I ask and he nods and tells Elliot he’ll be right back, before getting out of his seat and following me back into the master bedroom. The minute I have him alone and can close and lock the door behind him, I pounce. My lips come crashing down on his and I practically leap into his arms. He doesn’t push me away or spurn my advances in anyway. He seems just as eager as I am to have me wrapped around his waist as he carries me back to the bed.

“You’re so hot like this, Ana,” He whispers, once he’s deposited me onto the sand colored bedspread. “I like you needy, baby.”

“Just fuck me, Christian,” I groan and he smiles.

“Oh, Ana. With pleasure.”

He makes quick work of the buttons on my shorts and then roughly yanks them off of me, my panties coming with them in one swift movement. His hands immediately find my opening, his fingers reaching inside of me to remove the balls and make room for him, and as he slides his fingers inside of me, his breath hisses between his teeth.

“Fuck, you’re soaking,” He practically growls and I moan and grind against his fingers, desperate for the friction. “Oh no, baby.” He tells me once he’s removed the balls and left me wanting once more. “If you’re going to come, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

I whimper as he reaches down for his fly and releases his erection. He doesn’t hesitate as he leans over the top of me and buries himself inside of me. I scream at the intense wave of pleasure I feel at the sudden fullness and he reaches up and puts his hand over my mouth.

“We’re not alone, Anastasia. You have to be quiet,” He chides me, but as he pulls back and then slams into me again, I cry out once more. “Can you be quiet?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Then you’re going to have to scream into my hand, baby,” He tells me. I groan as he begins to thrust forward, pushing into me deep and hard and driving me to the edge of insanity. It’s almost too much, the sensation of him inside of me coupled with an entire afternoon of need and deprivation, I feel like I’m going to explode when I finally find release.

“Fuck, baby,” Christian hisses, as he slams forward again. “You’re so fucking wet. Mmm, this is going to be quick.”

He gets into his rhythm, moving in and out of me in quick, harsh movements that hit me everywhere I need him to. The heat begins to build, burning out of control like wildfire until eventually I reach the very pinnacle of my pleasure and I detonate around him.

“Jesus, fuck, Ana!” Christian cries as I squeeze around him harder than I ever have before. The pleasure is so intense, I fear for a minute that I might be ripped apart by my orgasm but I’m so blissfully high, I don’t care. There are worse ways to go in this world.

He continues to pound into me, stretching out the pleasure with his relentless ardor until eventually he stills and pours his own release into me.

I’m shaking when I come down, almost unable to breathe through the gasps that escape from deep inside my chest. He continues to hold his hand over my mouth as my breathing really is too loud, but once I’ve got it under control, his hand disappears and is immediately replaced by his lips.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” He says, reverentially. I moan and pull him deeper into the kiss, exploring his perfect, chiseled mouth with my tongue.

When the boat docks, the salesman who met us earlier this afternoon is waiting excitedly at the end of the dock.

“I don’t know,” Elliot says as we make our way down the ramp and onto the pier. “I looked around. There are only four jet skis. He said there is enough room for twelve people on this boat. That means only a third of us could be riding jet skis at any one time. What does he expect us to do, share? Like peasants?”

Christian glowers at him. “We can get more jet skis.”

“You promise?” Elliot asks. “Because I won’t share.”

“Sure,” Christian responds, just as we finally make it to the salesman.

“Well Mr. Grey, what do you think?” He asks.

“He’ll take it!” Elliot says excitedly and Christian glares at him before turning back to the salesman.

“What’s the final asking price?”

“$35,000,000,” The salesman says casually, and I feel my stomach drop. Million? Holy fuck…

“American?” Elliot asks, his tone echoing my own shock and the salesman nods uneasily.

Christian turns around and looks at the yacht again, examining it thoughtfully. His eyes fall on the balcony high above us that I realize must be the balcony to the master suite and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’ll take it,” He says, turning back to the salesman. “I’ll get you in touch with my accountant, he’ll have the payment transferred to the owner by the end of business next Friday.

“Excellent!” The salesman says giddily, holding his hand out and shaking Christian’s a little too enthusiastically. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Grey.”

“Oh no,” Christian says, shooting an appreciative look down at me. “The pleasure was all mine.”

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