Breathless, she nips my jaw to my ear. “I’ve missed you,” she murmurs above the rush of the shower.
Fuck.
Her words pour gasoline on the fire. My erection is harder and fuller, pressing against her. Wanting her. My fingers are in her wet hair, angling her lips to mine, while I take more from her mouth.
I’d expected maybe some gentle lovemaking, the way we have recently.
But not this.
Ana is lit and greedy. Her teeth scrape along my stubbled jawline. Her fingers tug at my hair as my hands move to her behind, pressing her to me. She squirms against me, finding some friction, her intent clear.
“Ana? Here?” I gasp.
“Yes. I’m not made of glass, Christian.” She’s emphatic as she kisses the line of my clavicle, her hands now roaming down my back to my ass. She squeezes hard, and then her hand is on me.
“Fuck,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
“I’ve missed this.” She wraps her fingers around my cock and starts to move her hand up and down, her mouth on mine once more. I pull back to gaze at her; her eyes are dazed with passion. Her hand tightens around me, and I watch and clench my ass with each move, thrusting into her hand.
She licks her lips.
Oh, no. To hell with this.
I want inside her.
She said she’s not made of glass.
I lift her. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” She complies, with a surprising agility.
That must be her sessions with Bastille.
And her lust.
I turn, resting her back against the tiles.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, and slowly ease into her.
She tips her head up against the wall and cries out.
The sound travels to the end of my dick.
And I start to move.
Hard. Fast.
Her heels press into my butt. Spurring me on. Her arms wrap around my neck, cradling me as I drive myself into her. Over and over. Her breathing accelerates, becoming louder and harsher in my ear as she climbs.
“Yes. Yes,” she whispers, and I don’t know if it’s a plea or a promise.
Ana.
My love.
Suddenly she cries out as her orgasm consumes her, and I let go, following her over the edge, coming inside my wife and calling her name.
When I’m sane again, I’m leaning against her, holding both of us up. Ana unhitches her legs and slides them down my body so that we’re both standing together in the shower.
I press my forehead to hers.
And together we catch our breath.
Holding each other beneath the stream of hot water.
Ana tilts her head up, cups the back of my neck, and brushes her lips against mine. Gentle. Sweet. “I needed that,” she says.
I laugh. “Me, too, baby!” My lips are on hers once more, but this time in thanks.
“Can we enjoy part two in bed?” Her eyes are still smoldering.
“But…work?”
Ana shakes her head. “I’ve taken the day off. I want to spend it in bed with you. We’ll never have this first again, and I want to celebrate our anniversary, doing what we do best.”
I beam down at her, feeling all the love in the world. “Mrs. Grey. Your wish is my command.” Lifting her into my arms, I carry her back to bed and lay her down, both of us soaking wet.
Ana is dozing, facedown and naked on our bed. I kiss her shoulder and get up. In our closet, I drag on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and go in search of food. I check in on Teddy and find Hope with him, changing his diaper.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.” She has a sweet drawl, betraying her southern roots.
“Good morning, Hope.”
Hope minds Teddy when Ana’s at work and lives upstairs with the rest of the staff.
She’s in her early forties. Never married. Never had kids. I’m sure there’s a story there that Ana will unearth one day. Ana has a knack for getting people to talk.
She did it with me.
Hope has been with us for three months, and so far, it’s working well. Ana had insisted on someone older—a career nanny, because Ana’s so young. I want someone I can learn from. My mom lives too far away, and your mom is so busy.
Hope does not approve of Ted sleeping in our bed.
As much as I love him, I’m with Hope on this, but Ana will not be swayed.
Hope kisses Teddy’s belly and he chortles with glee.
It’s a beautiful sound.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I tell Hope.
Mrs. Jones is at the stove. “Good morning, Gail.”
“Ah! Mr. Grey. Good morning. Happy anniversary.”
“Thank you. I’d like to take Ana breakfast in bed.”
“Lovely idea. What would the two of you like?”
“Pancakes, bacon. Blueberries. Coffee.”
“Coming right up. It’ll be about twenty minutes.”
“Great.” I amble into my study to fetch the first of my anniversary presents for Ana. The second one, an eternity ring—a symbol of my eternal love—I’ll give to her over dinner this evening. I open my desk drawer to check that the red box with her ring is still there, but my eyes stray to the photograph of Ella Pusztai adorned by a silver frame that’s now tucked away in my drawer. Ana liberated the snap from my childhood bedroom and had it enlarged and placed in the frame as a gift for my last birthday, but no matter how often I open the drawer, the sight of my birth mother catches me unawares.