E L James
Fifty Shades
Freed
The Writer's Coffee Shop
First published by The Writer's Coffee Shop, 2012
Copyright © E L James, 2012
The right of E L James to be identified as the author of this work has been asser-
ted by her under 11k ' . i. . Riglmi let 201X1
This work is copyright. Apan from any use as permitled under die ( onyridit Act
1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, re-
mission of the publisher.
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Writer's Coffee Shop
(Australia) PO Box 2013 Hornsby Westfield NSW 1635
(USA) PO Box 2 1 1 6 Waxahachie TX 75 1 68
Paperback ISBN- 978-1-61213-060-6
E-book ISBN- 978- 1 -6 1 2 1 3-06 1 -3
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.
Cover image by: © Photo-Dave
Cover design by: Jennifer MeGuire
Dr. Seuss. The Lorax. New York: Random House, 1971.
About the Author
Since early childhood. she dreaml of writing siories thai readers would fall in love
with, bill pnl ihose dreams on hold lo i'ocus on her family and her career. She 11-
nally plucked up the courage to put pen to paper « ill) her first no el. Fifty Shades
of (// c i h L I inies v i 1 1 in n 1 1 i i 1 I ui i
natural twist.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to: Niall, my rock;
To Kathleen for just being a great sounding board, friend, confidante and a tech-
To Bee for endless moral support;
To Taylor (also a technical wiz), Susi, Pam and Nora for showing a girl a good
And for their advice and tact I'd really like to thank:
Dr. R;iina Sluder for help w illi all mailers medical:
Anne Forlincs for the financial advice;
Elizabeth de Yos for her kind counsel regarding the American adoption system.
Thank- to Maddie Blandino for her exquisite, inspirational art.
And to Pam and Gillian lor Salurda> morning coffee and hauling me back to real
life.
Also thanks to my editing team Andrea. Shay anal the e or Io ely and only occa-
sionalK frothing lanine. who tolerate- m frothing with patience, fortitude and a
great sense of humour.
And lastly to Amanda and all at The Writer's Coffee Shop Publishing
House — Thank you.
Para ml Mama con todo ml amory gratltud
And for my beloved Father
Daddy, I miss you every day
Prologue
Mommy! Mommy! Mommy is asleep on the floor. She has been
doesn't wake up. I shake her. Mommy! My tummy hurts. It is
sink, and I have a drink. The water splashes over my blue sweater.
Mommy is still asleep. Momim wake up! She lies still. She is cold.
I fetch my blankie, and I cover Mommy, and I lie down on the
siick> green rug beside her. Mommy is still asleep. I have two toy
cars. They race by the floor where Mommy is sleeping. I think
Mommy is sick, i search for something lo eal. In the freezer 1 find
peas. They arc cold. I eal them slow l> . The;, make my tummy hurt. I
sleep beside Mommy. The peas are gone. In the freezer is
something. 11 smells funny. 1 lick il and m tongue is stuck to it. I
eat it slowly. It tastes nasl . I drink Mime w ater. I play with my cars,
and I sleep beside Momim Iomm is so cold, and she won't wake
up. The door crashes open. I cover Mommy with my blankie. He's
here. Fuck II hat il i >/*•; hen Oh, the crazy fucked up
bitch. Shit. Fuck. Get out of my way. you little shit. He kicks me, and
I hit my head on the floor. My head hurts. He calls somebody and he
goes. He locks the door. I la dow u beside Mommy. My head hurts.
The lady policeman is here. No. No. No. Don't touch me. Don't
touch me. Don't touch me. I stay by Mommy. No. Stay away from
me. The lady policeman has my blankie, and she grabs me. I
scream. Mommy! Mommy! I want my Mommy. The words are
gone. 1 can't say die words. Monunv can'! hear me. I have no
nightmare, the depths of his despair. "I'm here. I'm here."
i I i ii i in I l i hi i
mouth. "You're here."
"I had a dream . . ."
"Ana." He breathe-, her name, and it's a talisman against the black clinking
p 1 ' ours i . Ihn ugh Ins body.
"Hush, I'm here." She curls around him, her limbs cocooning him, her
warmth leeching int i forcing back I his k icing back the fear.
She is sunshine, she is light ... she is his.
"Please Id's no; fight." His voice is hoarse as lie w raps his arms around her.
"Okay."
"The vows. No obc\ ing. 1 can do that. We'll find a \a ." Tlic words rush out
of his mouth in a tumble of emotion and confusion and anxiety.
"Yes. We will. We'll always find a way," she whispers and her lips are on
his, silencing him, bringing him back to the now.
Chapter One
I stare up through g t > i the i grass pai I at the bit 1 skies, summer blue,
Mediterranean blue v. ill) a contented sigh. Christian is beside me. stretched out on
a sun lounger. My husband — my hot, beautiful husband, shirtless, and in cut-off
jeans — is reading a book predicting the collapse of the Western banking system.
more like a student than the hotshot (. k( > of one the top priately owned compan-
On the final leg oh our honeymoon, we laze in die afternoon sun on the beach
of the aptly named Beach Plaza Monte Carlo in Monaco, although we're not
actually staying in this hotel. 1 open my eyes and gaze out at the Fair Lady
anchored in the harbor. We Lire slaying, of course, on board a luxury motor yacht.
Built in 1928, she floats majestically on the water, queen of the all the yachts in
the harbor. She looks like a child's wind-up toy. Christian loves her — I suspect
he's tempted to buy her. i loncslly. bos and their toys.
Sitting back, I listen to the Christian Grey mix on my new iPod and doze in
the hue afternoon sun, idly remembering his proposal. Oh his dreamy proposal in
the boathousc ... 1 can almost -.nicll the seem ol'lhe meadow Honors . . -
"Can we marry tomorrow?" Christian murmurs softly in my ear. I am spraw led on
his chest in the flowery bower in the boathouse, sated from our passionate
lovemaking.
"Hmm."
"Is that a yes?" I hear his hopeful surprise.
I sense his grin. ""Miss Steele, are ou incoherent?"
lie laughs and hugs me tightly, kissing the top of my head. "Vegas, tomor-
Sleepily I raise my head. "I don't think my parents would be very happy with
that."
He thrums his fingertips up and down my nal i i i
"What do you want, Anastasia? Vegas? A big wedding with all the trim-
mings? Tell me."
"Not big . . . Just friends and family." I gaze up at him moved by the quiet
entreaty in hi;, glow in. s il does he want?
"Okay." He nods. "Where?"
"Could we do it here?" he asks tentatively.
"Your folks' place? Would they mind?"
He snorts. "My mother would be in seventh heaven."
"Okay, here. I'm sure my mom and dad would prefer that."
I'u n ii Id I be m happier?
"So, we've established w here, now die w lien."
"Surely you should ask your mother."
"1 1mm." Christian's smile dips. ""She can ha e a nionlh. that's it. I want you
too much to wait any longer."
"Christian, you have me. You've had me for a while. But okay — a month it
is." 1 kiss liis chest, a >olt chaste kiss, and smile up at him.
"You'll burn." C hristian whispers in m ear. startling me bum m doze.
"Only for you." I give him m> sweetest smile. The kite afternoon sun has
shifted, and I am under its full glare. He smirks and in one swift move pulls my
sun lounger into the shade of the parasol.
"Out of the Mediterranean sun, Mrs. Grey."
"Thank you lor your altruism. Mr. Grey."
"My pleasure, Mrs. Grey, and I'm not being altruistic at all. If you burn, I
won't be able to touch you." He raises an eyebrow, his eyes shining with mirth,
and my heart expands "Bui 1 suspect urn know thai and you're laughing at me."
"Would I?" I gasp, feigning innocence.
"Yes you would and you do. Often. It's one of the many things I love about
you." He leans down nd kisse 111 >la full biting my lower lip.
"I was hoping you'd rub me down with more sunscreen." I pout against his
lips.
"Mrs. Grey, it's a dirty job ... but that's an offer I can't refuse. Sit up," he
orders, his voice husky. I do as I'm told, and with slow meticulous strokes from
strong and supple lingers, he eoats me in sunscreen.
"You really are very lovely. I'm a lucky man," he murmurs as his fingers
skim over my breasts, spreading the lotion.
"Yes, you are, Mr. Grey " 1 gaze on 1 up at him through my lashes.
"Modesty becomes you, Mrs. Grey. Turn over. 1 want to do your back."
Smiling, I roll over, and he undoes the back strap of my hideously e.pensi c
"How would you feel if I went topless, like the other women on the beach?" I
"Displeased," he says without hesitation. ""I'm not very happy about you
wearing so little right now." lie leans down and whispers in my car. "Don't push
"No. It's a statement of fact, Mrs. Grey."
I sigh and shake my head. Oh i'hristhm . . . my /xmi/m jealous, control
freak Christian.
When he's finished, he slaps my behind.
"You'll do, wench."
I lis ever-present l t t L Li i I li n and he smirks.
"My eyes only, Mrs. Grey." He raises his eyebrow in playful warning, skips
my backside once more, and sits back down on his lounger to take the call.
My inner goddess purrs. Maybe tonight w e could do some kind of floor show
lor Ins eyes only. She smirks knowingly, arching a brow . I grin at the thought and
1 in b an n crnoon siesia
"Mam "selle? Un Pcrrier pauv moi. mi Coca-Cola light prnir ma jemme, s'il vans
plait. El t/uclc/iic chose u manger ■ . . luinez-moi voir la cane."
Hmm . . . Christian speaking fluent French wakes me. My eyelashes llnlicr in
the glare of the sun. and I i CI islia I g i hile i li cried young wo-
man walks away, her tray held aloft, her high blond ponytail swinging
provocatively.
"Thirsty?" he asks.
"Yes," I mutter sleepily.
"I could watch you all day. Tired?"
I flush. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Me neither." He grins, puts down his BlackBcrry, and stands. His shorts fall
a little and hang . . . in thai way so his sw im trunks are visible beneath. Christian
takes his shorts off. stepping out of his flip-Hops. I lose m train of thought.
dazed. "Swim?" he says again, cocking his head to one side, an amused cxpres-
"I think you need a wake-up call." Suddenly Ik pounce-, and lifts me into his
■"Christian! Put me down!" I squeal.
He chuckles. "Only in the sea, baby."
Several sunbalhers on the beach w atch w ith thai bemused disinterest so typic-
al. I now realize, of the French as C hristian carries mc to lire sea. laughing, and
I clasp my aims I u Idn'l." I sa hi ilhlc l try in
to stifle my giggling.
He grins. "Oh, Ana, baby, have you learned nothing in the short time we've
know n each other?" He kisses me, and I seize my opportunity, running my lingers
through his hail gras I I ful I g i it , hile in ading his
mouth with my tongue. I le inhales sharply and leans back. ey es smoky but wary.
"I know your game." lie w hispcrs and slow ly sinks into the cool, clear water,
taking me with him as his lips find mine once more. The chill of the Mediter-
ranean is soon forgotten as ! wrap my self around my husband.
"1 thought you w anted lo sw im." I murmur against his mouth.
"You're vcr di i in C hrislian gi his I h al n g m lower lip. "But
I'm not sure I want the good people of Monte Carlo to see my wife in the throes
of passion."
I ran my teeth i I i 1 I I list m 1 ngr c not caring
a dime for the good people o! Monte Carlo.
"Ana," he groans. He wraps my ponytail around his wrist and tugs gently,
tilting my head back, exposing m throat. 1 le trails kisses from my car down my
"Shall I take you in the sea'.'" he breathes.
"Yes," 1 whisper.
Christian pulls away and gazes down at me, his eyes warm, wanting, and
amused 'Mrs Cites t're ins I I so bra ! rt of monster I I
created?"
"A monster lit for you Would you hae me any other way?"
"I'll take you any way I can get you, you know that. But not right now. Not
with an audience." He jerks his head toward the shore.
What?
enee and now regard us w ith interest. Suddenly. ( hrislian grabs me around my
the waves to the soli in 1 surl i ih i I
"Christian!" I seold. glaring al him. I thought we were going to make love in
amusement. I splash him. and he splashes me right back.
"We have all night." he says, grinning like a fool. "Latere, baby." He dives
beneath the sea and surfaces three feet away from me, then in a fluid, graceful
crawl, swims awa> from the shore. awa horn me.
Culi! Playful i I lilt i li i Hi sun as I watch him
go. He's such a tease . . . what can I do lo gel htm back? While 1 swim back to the
shore, I contemplate m> options. At the sun loungers our drinks have arrived, and
I take a quick sip ot ( o I t i i 1'aii in the distance.
Hmm ... I lie down on my front and, fumbling with the straps, take my bikini
top off and toss it casual!;, onto Christian's sun lounger. There ... see how brazen
I can be, Mr. Grey. Put this in your pipe and smoke it. I shut my eyes and let the
"You nun kiss the bride." Reerencl \
1 beam tit my husband.
"Finally, you're mine." he whispers and pulls me into his arms and kisses me
chastely on the lips.
I am married. I am Mrs. t hristian < ire . i am giddy with joy.
"You look beautiful, Ana," he murmurs and smiles, his eyes glow ing with
love . . . and something darker, something hot. "Don't let anyone take that dress
off but me, understand'.'" His smile heals a hundred degrees as his fingertips trail
dow n m> check, igniting my blood.
Holy crap . . . How does he do this, even here with all these people staring at
I nod mutely. Jeez, I hope no one can hear us. Luckily Reverend Walsh has
ell | I I ] 1 11 III! i I lil
t 1 1 i 1 lilt I
My mom, Ray, Bob, and the Greys are all applauding — even Kate, my maid of
honor, who looks si a i le pink as la id Christian's best man,
his brother Elliot. Who knew that even Elliot could scrub up so well? All wear
huge, beaming smiles — except Grace, who weeps graciously into a dainty white
handkerchief.
"Ready to parly Mrs drey?" < hristian murmurs, giving me his shy smile. I
melt. He looks divine in a simple black tux with silver waistcoat and tie. He's
"Ready as I'll cer be." I grin, a totally gool'x smile on m lace
Later the wedding party is in full swing . . - Carrick and Grace hac gone lo
town. They have the marquee set up again and beaulil'ulK decorated in pale pink,
silver, and ivory with its sides open, facing the bay. We have been blessed with
fine weather, and the late afternoon sun shines over the water. There's a dance
floor at one end of the marquee, a la ish bullet at the oilier.
Ray and m> moilici re , an ig md i nighiug illi c » li cither. I feel bitter-
sweet watching them together. 1 liope Christian and 1 last longer. 1 don't know
what I'd do if he left me. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. The saying haunts me.
Kate is beside me. looking so beautiful in her long silk gown. She glances at
me and frowns. "Hey, this is supposed to be the happiest day of your life," she
scolds.
"It is," I whisper.
"Oh, Ana, what's wrong? Are you watching your mom and Ray?"
I nod sadly.
"They're happy."
"Happier apart."
"You're having doubi Laic akin <
"No, not at all. It's just ... I love him so much." I freeze, unable or unwilling
to articulate my fears.
"Ana, it's obvious he adores you. I know you had an unconventional start lo
your relationship, but I can see how happy you've both been over the past
month She i p ill too late now," she
adds with a grin.
1 giggle. Trust Kate to point out the obvious. She pulls me into a Kathcrinc
Kavanagh Special Hug. "Ana, you'll be fine. And if he hurts one hair on your
head, he'll have me lo answer to." Releasing me. she grins at whoever is behind
"Hi, baby " C hi i ian nil Ilk ms iron 1 mc ui ri ng me, and kisses my
temple. "Kate," he acknowledges. He's still cool toward her even after six weeks.
"'Hello again. Chrisiian. I'm off lo find > our best man. w ho happens to be my
best man, too." With a smile to us both, she heads over to Elliot, who is drinking
ill her brother Elba md i> cm I"s L
"Time lo go." Chrisiian murmurs.
"Already? This is the first party I've been to where I don't mind being the
center of attention." I turn in his arms to face him.
"You deserve to be. You look stunning, Anastasia."
"So do you."
lie Miiiles. bis expression healing. "This beautiful dress becomes sou."
"This old thing?" I blush shyly and pull on the fine lace trim of the simple,
filled wedding dress designed for me by Kate's mother. I love that the lace is just
off the shoulder — demure, yet alluring, I hope.
lie bends and kisses me. "Let's go. 1 don't want to share you with all these
people anymore."
"Can we leave our own wedding?"
And right now, I'd like to whisk you away and have you all to myself."
I giggle. "You hac me lor a lifetime. Mr (ires ."
"I'm very glad to hear that, Mrs. Grey."
"Oh, there you two are! Such lovebirds."
I groan inwardly . . . Grace's mother has found us.
"Christian, darling — one more dance with your grandma?"
Christian purses Ins lips. ""Of course. Grandmother."
"And you, beautiful Anaslasia. go and make an old man happy — dance with
Thco."
"Theo, Mrs. Trevelyan?"
'Come. Grandmother." he says, hurriedly
ancc floor. He glances back at me, practic-
ally pouting, and rolls his eyes. "Lalers. baby."
As I walk to a 11 i 1 1 I n
"I won't ask you for another dance. I think 1 monopolized too much of your
time on the dance floor as it is . . . I'm happy to see you happy, but I'm serious,
Ana. I'll be here . . . If you need me."
"Jose, thank you. You're a good friend."
"I mean it." His dark eyes shine w ill) sincerity .
"I know you do. Thank you, Jose. Now if you'll please excuse me — I have a
date with an old man."
He furrows his brow in confusion.
"Christian's grandfather," 1 clarify.
I Ic grins. "(hhhI luck \ :th that. Annie. ( kmhJ luck with everything."
"Thanks, Jose."
After my dance with Christian's e er-cliarming grandfather, i stand h the
French doois watcltin the sun sink slow 1 Seattle, t h i i
aquamarine shadows across the bay.
"Let's go," Christian urges.
"I have to change." I grasp his hand, meaning to pull him through the French
windows and upstairs w ith me. lie frowns, not understanding, and tugs genlK on
my hand, halting me.
"I thought you wanted to be the one to take this dress off," 1 explain. 1 lis eyes
light up.
"Correct." He gixes me a lasci ions grin. ""But I'm not undressing you here.
We wouldn't leave until ... I don't know . . ." He w aves his long-lingered hand,
leaving his sentence unfinished but his meaning quite clear.
J Hush and lei go of his hand.
"And don ml r hail i lurnt
"No buts, Anastasia. You look beautiful. And 1 want to be the one to undress
Oh. 1 frown.
"Pack your going-awa> clothes." he orders. ""> ou'll need them. Taylor has
"Okay." What has he got planned? He hasn't told me where we're going. In
fact, I don't think anyone knows where we're going. Neither Mia nor Kale has
managed to inveigle the information out of him. f turn to where my mother and
Kate are hovering nearby.
"I'm not changing."
"What?" my mother says.
"'Christian doesn't want me to." I shrug as if this should explain everything.
Her brow furrows briefly.
"You didn't promise to obey," she reminds me tactfully. Kate tries to dis-
guise her snort as a cough. I narrow my eyes at her. Neither she nor my mother
have any idea of the fight Christian and I had about that. I don't want to rehash
that argument. Jeez, can my Fifty Shades sulk . . . and have nightmares. The
memory is sobering.
"I know, Mom. bill he likes this dress. and ! want to please him."
Her expression softens. Kate rolls her eyes and tactfully moves away to leave
"You look so Unci; darling ( irk gcnlly li s at ;i loose lendril of my hair
and strokes my chin. "I am so proud of you, honey. You're going to make Christi-
an a very happy man." She pulls me into a hug.
Oh, Mom!
"I can't bclie e bow grow n-up > ou look right now . Beginning a new life . . .
Jusi rememhei dial men are from a different plane!, and you'll be line."
I giggle. Christ iai) is from a different uimerse. if only she knew.
"Thanks, Mom."
Ray joins us, smiling sweetly at both Mom and me.
"You made a beautiful baby girl, Carla," he says, his eyes glowing with
pride. He looks so dapper in his black tux and pale pink waistcoat. Tears prick the
back of my eyes. Oh no ... so far
I have managed not to cry.
""And on watched her and helped her grow up, Ray," Carta's voice is
wistful.
"And I loved every single minute. You make one hell of a bride, Annie." Ray
lucks the same k
"Oh, Dad ..." I stifle a sob, and he hugs me in his brief, awkward way.
"You'll make one hell of a wife, too," he whispers, his voice hoarse.
\ hen he releases me. Christian is back at in; side.
""1 full; intend to. Ra; . (. aria "' i le nods at in; slepdad and kisses my mom.
The rest of the wedding guests have formed a long human arch for us to
travel through, leading round 10 the front of the house.
"Ready?" Christian says.
"Yes."
Taking my hand, he leads me under their outstretched arms while our guests
shout good luck md ralulaii I showei i i iting wilh smiles
and hugs at the end of the arch are ( iraee and ( arriek In turn they hug and kiss us
both. Grace is cnu 1 1 i i! ve bid I sl good-byes.
Taylor is waiting to whisk us away in the Audi SUV. As Christian holds the
car door open for me, I turn and toss m bouquet of w hile unci pink roses into the
crowd of young women ihal has gathered. Mia triumphantly holds il alofl. grin-
ning from ear lu ear.
As 1 slide into the SUV laughing at Mia's audacious catch, Christian bends to
gather the hem of my dress. Once I'm safely in, he bids the wailing croud a
farewell.
Taylor holds the car door open for him. "Congratulations, sir."
1 1 il i I i loi i|m i 'i i pi i he ns hhibclfbc in
As Taylor pulls away, our wedding guests shower the vehicle with rice.
Chrislian grasps my hand and kisses my knuckles.
"So far so good. Mis. (ircyT
"So far so wonderful II G no re .... in
"Sea-Tac,"hc says simph and smiles a sphinxlike smile.
Hmm . . . what is he planning?
Taylor docs not head for ihe departure terminal as I expect but through a se-
curity gate and directly on to the tarmac. What? And then I see her — Christian's
jet ... Grey Enter/ i lue lettering aet ss her fuselage.
"Don't tell me you're misusing company property again!"
( 11 1 hope so uiaslasia C hi 1 an rrin>
Taylor halts at the I'ool of the steps leading up to the plane and leaps out of
the Audi to open Christian's door. They have a brief discussion, then Christian
leans in and lifts me.
"Carrying you over the threshold," he says.
"Oh." Isn't that supposed to be at home?
He carries me effortlessly up the steps, and Taylor follows with my small
suitcase. He leaves it on the threshold of the plane before returning to the Audi.
I 11 11 I 1 I II I 11 ! I ll 1 1 111 HI I
"Welcome aboard, sir. Mrs. Grey." He grins.
Christian puts me down and shakes Stephan's hand. Beside Stephan stands a
dark-haired w oman in Iter w hat'. 1 karly ihirlics? She's also in uniform.
"Congratulations to you both," Stephan continues.
"Thank you. Slephan Anaslasia. you know Sicphan. I lc's our captain today,
and this is First Officer Bcighlcy."
She bl i ii I 11 I i i I want to roll my
eyes. Another female completely captivated by my too-handsomc-for-his-own-
good husband.
'"Delighted to meet yon." gushes Bcighlcy. 1 smile kindly ai her Alter
all — he is mine.
VII pre| I i ii 1 i I I I I
cabin. The interior is all pale maple wood and pale cream leather. It's lovely.
Another young woman in uniform stands at the other end of the cabin — a very
pretty brunette.
"We have the all clear. Weather is good from here to Boston."
Boston?
"Turbulence?"
"Not before Boston. There's a weather front over Shannon that might give us
a rough ride."
Shannon? Ireland?
"I see. Well, I hope to sleep through it all," says Christian matter-of-factly.
Sleep?
"We'll get underway, sir," Stephan says. "We'll leave you in the capable care
of Natalia, your flight attendant." C hrislian glances in her direction and frowns,
but turns to Stephan with a smile.
"Excellent," he says. Taking my hand, he leads me to one of the sumptuous
leather seats. There must be about twelve of them in total.
"Sit," he says as he removes his jacket and undoes his fine sliver brocade
vest. We sit in two single seats facing each other with a small, highly polished
"Welcome aboard, sir, ma'am, and congratulations." Natalia is at our side,
offering us both a glass of pink champagne.
"Thank you (In nd sh smiles | u t i us ind retreats to the
"Here's 10 a happy married life. Anasiasia." (. hrislian raises his glass to mine,
< i 1 m h i i| gnc L icioi
"Bollinger?" I ask.
"The same."
"The first time I drank this it was out of teacups." 1 grin.
"I remember that day well. Your graduation."
1 ii 11 I i i i i i in i i ii i
"Shannon," Christum says, his eves alight wis!) excitement. He looks like a
small boy.
"In Ireland?" We're going to Ireland!
"To refuel," he adds, teasing.
"Then?" I prompt.
His grin broadens and he shakes his head.
" L nd n," he 1 I t i t
1 gasp. Holy cow. I thought maybe we'd be going to New York or Aspen or
maybe the Caribbean. I can hardly believe it. My lifetime ambition has been to
visit England. I'm lit up from w illiin. incandescent with happiness.
"Then Paris."
What?
"Then the South of France."
"I know you e i ii E pe." he says softly. "I want
to make your dreams come true, Anastasia."
"You are my dreams come true, Christian."
"Back at yon. Mrs. Cirey." lie whispers.
"Buckle up."
As the plane taxis out on to the runway, we sip our champagne, grinning in-
anely til each other. 1 can't believe ii. At twenty-two sears old. Fin finally leaving
the United States and going to Europe to London of all places.
Once we're airborne. Natalia serves us vet more champagne and prepares our
wedding least. And what a least n is smol d Imon. i lowed by roast part-
ridge with a gieen In ilad and / potatoes, all lokcd and served by
the ever-efficient Natalia.
"Dessert, Mr. Grey?" she asks.
He shakes his head and runs his linger across his bottom lip as he looks qucs-
tioningly at me, his expression dark and unreadable.
"No, thank you," I murmur, unable to break eye contact with him. His lips
curl up in a small, secret smile and Natalia retreats.
"Good," he murmurs. ""I'd rather planned on ha ing you for dessert."
Oh . . . here?
"Come," he says, rising from the table and oi lining me his hand. He leads me
to the back of the cabin.
"There's a bathroom here." He points to a small door then leads mc on down
i hot i rridot n ihrougl i r at the end.
Jeez . . . a bedroom. The cabin is cream and maple wood and the small
double bed is covered in gold and taupe cushions. It looks very comfortable.
Christian turns and pulls me into his arms, gazing down at mc.
"I thought we'd spend our wedding night at [him -fine-thousand feet. It's
something I've never done before."
Holy
cow . . . another first. ! gape at hint, my heart pounding . . . the mile
high club. I'e heard about this.
love and something darker, something i fare . . something that calls to my inner
goddess. He takes my breath away.
"Turn around." His voice is low, authoritative, and sexy as hell. How can he
move to my hair. Gently he pulls out each hairpin one at a time, his expert fingers
making short work of the task. My hair falls in swathes over my shoulders, one
lock at a time, covering my back and down to my breasts. I try to stand still and
want him— all of him.
"You have such beautiful hair, Ana." His mouth is close to my ear and I feel
his breath, though his lips don't touch me. When my hair is free of pins, he runs
his fingers through it. gently massaging my scalp ...oh my... I close my eyes
and savor the sensation. His lingers Panel on down, and he lugs, tilting my head
back to expose my throat.
"You're mine.'" he breathes and his teeth tug my car lobe
"Hush now." he admonishes. Me sweeps ins hair over my shoulder and trails
a finger across the top of my back from shoulder to shoulder follow ing the lace
edge of my dress. 1 shiver in anticipation. He plants a tender kiss on my back
above the first button on my dress.
"So beautiful," he says as he deftly undoes the first button. "You have made
me the happiest man alive today." With infinite slowness, he unfastens each one,
all the way down my back. "I love you so much." Trailing kisses from the nape of
my neck to the edge of my shoulder. Between each kiss he murmurs, "I. Want.
You. So. Much. I. Want. To. Be. Inside. You. You. Are. Mine."
Each word is ml i In I i 1 till my h giving him easict
access to my neck, and I fall further under the spell that is Christian Grey, my
husband.
"Mine," he whispers once more. He peels my dress down my arms so that it
pools at my feet in a cloud of ivory silk and lace.
"Turn around," he whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse. I do so and he gasps.
I'm dressed in a light, blush-pink satin corset vitlt garter straps, matching
lacy briefs, and white silk stockings. Christian's eyes travel greedily down my
body, but he says nothing. He just gazes at me, his eyes wide with want.
"You like Iwli ill 1 h creeping a loss my cheeks.
"More than like. baby. You look sensational. Here." lie holds out his hand
and taking it, I step out of my dress.
runs his middle finger over m breasts, follow ing the line of my corset. My breath
shallows, and he repeats the journey over my breasts once more, his tantalizing
finger sending tingles down my spine. He stops and twirls his index finger in the
air, indicating that he wants me to turn around.
"Stop," he says. I'm facing the bed, away from him. His arm encircles my
waist, pulling me against him, and he nuzzles my neck. Gently he cups my
breasts, toying with litem, while bis thumbs circle oxer my nipples so that they
strain against the fabric of my corset.
"Mine," he whispers.
"Y ours." I breathe.
Leaving my breasts bereft he runs his hands down my stomach, over my
belly, and down t it t 1 till i moan. His
fingers skate down I It bis u he simultaneously
unhooks each one from m stockings. 1 ii, bands tra el around to my behind.
"Mine. 1 " he breathes as his hands spread across my backside, die lips of his
fingers brashing my sex.
"Ah."
"Hush." His hands Inn el down the backs of im thighs, and once more he un-
clips my garters.
Leaning down, lie pulls back the cox er on die bed. "Sit down."
I do as I'm told i la ' '1 i I! kneels at n feel a I gently tugs off each
of my white bridal Jimmy Choos. He grasps the top of my left stocking and
slowly peels it off. running his thumbs down my leg . . . Oh my. He repeats the
process with my other stocking.
"This is like unwrapping my Christmas presents. He smiles up at me
through his long dark lashes.
"A present you c had already. . . ."
He frow ns in admonishment. "Oh no. baby. This lime it's really mine."
"Christian, I've been yours since I said y es." 1 scoot forw ard, cupping his be-
loved face in my hands. "I'm yours. I will always be yours, husband of mine.
Now, I think you i l > . > i_l lain clolh 1 > k i s him, and suddenly
he leans up kisses i i i I a his fingers thread-
ing into my hair.
vasivcly persuasive.
"Clothes," I whisper, our breath mingling as I push back his vest and he
wide, eyes wanting.
band, my Fifty.
Ilcsishkl ! ill ill hi lie — his sliver-gray
tic, my favorite tie — and slowly undo it and pull it free. He raises his chin to let
mc tackle the top button of his white shirt; then once it's undone, I move on to his
cuff--, lie'- wearing plalnuim cufflink* engraved with an entwined A and
C my wedding present to him. When I've removed them, he takes the cufflinks
from me and fists them in his hand. Then he kisses Ins fist and shoves them into
his pants pocket.
"Mr. Grey, so romantic."
"For you Mrs. Grey — hearts and flowers. Always."
I take his hand n< glancing ii| I ro .,1111 l;isl II his plain platinum
1 1 1 1 1 ii his eye
"Ana," he whisper- mid m> name is a prayer.
Reaching up to his second shirt button and mirroring him from earlier, I plant
a soli kiss on his cliesl as 1 undo each ol'lhein and w liispei between each kiss.
"You. Make. Me. So. Happy. I. Love. You."
lie groans, and in one swill moe. he clasps me around the waist and lifts me
on to the bed, following me down on to it. His lips find mine, his hands curling
around my head, holding me. stilling me as our tongues glory in each other.
Abruptly Christian kneels up, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
"You are so beautiful ... wife." He runs t 1 ha ! own 111; legs then grasps
my left loot. "You have such lovely legs. } wan! to kiss every inch of them. Start-
ing here." He pre I I ll 1 I s ith his,
teeth. Everything so I 1 I 1 1 1 I I 1 glides up my instep
and his teeth skim my heel and up to my ankle. He trails kisses up the inside of
my calf; soft wet kisses. I wriggle beneath him.
"Still, Mrs. Grey," he warns, and suddenly he flips me on to my stomach and
continues his leisurely journey with his mouth up the back of my legs, to my
thighs, my behind, and then he stops. I groan.
"Please . . ."
"I want you naked I 1 11 1 1 11 1 1 i> corset ic hook at
a time. When it's Hat on the bed beneath me. he runs his tongue up the length of
"'Christian, please."
"What do you want, Mrs. Grey." His words are soft and close to my ear. He's
almost lying on top of me ... I can feel him hard against my behind.
"You."
"And I you, my love, my life . . . ," he whispers, and before I know it, he's
flipped me on to m back, lie -lauds swiftly and in one efficient nunc dispenses
with his pants and boxei 1 • th it In .1 >ri< u I 1 1I0 d and looming large
and ready over me. The small cabin is eclipsed by his dazzling beauty and his
wantandneedofmc.il 11 11 1 t hen izesdownal
"Mine," he mouths.