"Oh, Ana," he gasps. He moves one of his hands from my hips and twists the plug again, tugging it slowly, pulling it out and pushing it back in. The feeling is indescribable and I think I'm going to pass out on the table. He never misses a beat as he takes me, again and again, moving strong and hard inside me, my insides tightening and quivering.
"Oh f**k," I moan. This is going to rip me apart.
"Yes, baby," he hisses.
"Please," I beg him and I don't know what for - to stop, to never stop, to twist the plug again. My insides are tightening around him and the plug.
"That's right," he breathes, and he slaps me hard on my right buttock, and I come - again and again, falling, falling, spinning, pulsing around and around - and Christian gently pulls the plug out. "Fuck! " I scream and Christian grabs my hips and climaxes loudly, holding me still.
The woman is still singing. Christian always puts songs on repeat in here. Strange. I am curled in his arms on his lap our legs tangled together, with my head resting against his chest. We're on the floor of the playroom by the table.
"Welcome back," he says, peeling the blindfold off me. I blink as my eyes adjust to the muted light. Tipping my chin back, he plants a soft kiss on my lips, his eyes focused on and anxiously searching mine. I reach up to caress his face. He smiles.
"Well, did I fulfill the brief?" he asks, amused.
I frown. "Brief?"
"You wanted rough," he says gently.
I grin, because I just can't help it. "Yes. I think you did . . ."
He raises his eyebrows and grins back at me. "I'm very glad to hear it Mrs. Grey. You look thoroughly well f**ked and beautiful at this moment." He caresses my face, his long fingers stroking my cheek.
"I feel it," I purr.
He reaches down and kisses me tenderly, his lips soft and warm and giving against mine. "You never disappoint." He leans back to gaze down at me. "How do you feel?" His voice is soft with concern.
"Good," I murmur, feeling a flush creep across my face.
"Thoroughly well f**ked." I smile shyly.
"Why, Mrs. Grey, you have a dirty, dirty mouth." Christian feigns an offended expression, but I can hear his amusement.
"That's because I'm married to a dirty, dirty boy, Mr. Grey."
He grins a ridiculously stupid grin and it's infectious. "I'm glad you're married to him." He gently takes hold of my braid, lifts it to his lips, and kisses the end with reverence, his eyes glowing with love. Oh my . . . did I ever have a chance of resisting this man?
I reach for his left hand and plant a kiss on his wedding ring, a plain platinum band matching my own. "Mine," I whisper.
"Yours," he responds. He curls his arms around me and presses his nose into my hair. "Shall I run you a bath?"
"Hmm. Only if you join me in it."
"Okay," he says. He sets me onto my feet and stands up beside me. He's still wearing his jeans.
"Will you wear your . . . er . . . other jeans?"
He frowns down at me. "Other jeans?"
"The ones you used to wear in here."
"Those jeans?" he murmurs blinking with perplexed surprise.
"You look very hot in them."
"Do I?"
"Yeah . . . I mean, really hot."
He smiles, shyly. "Well for you, Mrs. Grey, maybe I will." He bends to kiss me then grabs the small bowl on the table that contains the butt plug, the tube of lubricant, the blindfold, and my panties.
"Who cleans these toys?" I ask as I follow him over to the chest. He frowns at me, as if not understanding the question. "Me. Mrs. Jones."
"What?"
He nods, amused and embarrassed, I think. He switches off the music. "Well - um . . ."
"Your subs used to do it?" I finish his sentence. He gives me an apologetic shrug.
"Here." He hands me his shirt and I put it on, wrapping it around myself. His scent still clings to the linen, and my chagrin about butt plug washing is forgotten. He leaves the items on the chest. Taking my hand, he unlocks the playroom door then leads me out and downstairs. I follow him meekly.
The anxiety, the bad mood, the thrill, fear, and excitement of the car chase have all gone. I'm relaxed - finally sated and calm. As we enter our bathroom, I yawn loudly and stretch . . . at ease with myself for a change.
"What is it?" Christian asks as he turns on the faucet. I shake my head.
"Tell me," he asks softly. He spills jasmine bath oil into the running water, filling the room with its sweet, sensual scent. I flush. "I just feel better."
He smiles. "Yes, you've been in a strange mood today, Mrs. Grey."
Standing, he pulls me into his arms. "I know you're worrying about these recent events. I'm sorry you're caught up in them. I don't know if it's a vendetta, an ex-employee, or a business rival. If anything were to happen to you because of me - " His voice drops to a pained whisper. I curl my arms around him.
"What if something happens to you, Christian?" I voice my fear. He gazes down at me. "We'll figure this out. Now let's get you out of this shirt and into this bath."
"Shouldn't you talk to Sawyer?"
"He can wait." His mouth hardens, and I feel a sudden pang of pity for Sawyer. What's he done to upset Christian?
Christian helps me out of his shirt then frowns as I turn to him. My br**sts still bear faded bruises from the love bites he gave me during our honeymoon, but I decide not to tease him about them.
"I wonder if Ryan has caught up with the Dodge?"