50 shades of gray

Chapter 4 - initial Negotiations

I eat my pancakes self consciously in the nude on a white leather barstool. I try to avoid his gaze, but Christian openly gawks at me while he methodically eats his egg white omelet. He finishes long before I do, smiling like an idiot as he watches me. I stare at my food then out of desperation grab the newspaper off the counter.

"Oh, the Mariners won last night," I remark in as casual a tone as I can muster.

I open the paper up and try to block myself from his view as I take another sip of tea. It's my favorite, Twinings. I'm a bit touched he remembered.

I gasp and almost choke on the tea. He has slid his hand under the newspaper and around my thigh. I can't see his face, only his hand. It's so surprising, I spread my legs, giving him purchase. He massages my nub with gusto. I can feel myself drawing near the edge, building to a quick release. Should I drop the paper so I can see him? There's definitely something arousing as all get out about the anonymity of it. His hand could be anyone's, as though I could be anywhere, enjoying my breakfast and my newspaper (admittedly in the nude) when this unbidden hand takes me by surprise.

Christian Grey is the stuff fantasies are made of, but I let my mind wander through the possibilities: I'm on a train when the man sitting next to me cops a feel; I'm on my lunch break in the park and someone I've never met can't resist a little touch-and-feel; I'm at home on the couch reading when a mysterious hand reaches around and gives me this... mind-shattering... orgasm... from out. of. nowhere.

The waves of pleasure wrack my body and I nearly fall off my stool.

Now the paper is crumpled into an unreadable mess in my hands. As the tremors subside, I smile and look over at Christian. I expect to see that sexy and snide look of accomplishment and satisfaction, but instead I'm faced with one of sheer amusement. He's laughing, and I'm pretty sure it's at me.

"What?" I pant. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You talk when you come, did you know that?"

I blush crimson and drop my head. Honesty, right? That's what he wants.

"Well, I've never done it before last night, so how would I know?"

I sneak a look up at him and his eyes are wide.

"You are full of surprises, Miss Steele. Are you sure you can't stay another night?"

Oh shit! "What time is it?" I ask in a panic, slipping off the barstool and taking another bite of pancake before practically running for Christian's study.

"It's nearly two o'clock," he calls, laughing again. What a fantastic sound. I stop and look back at him. He looks his age for once. It really suits him.

"I promised Kate I'd call. She's gonna be worried sick."

When I make it to the study, I'm completely stunned. Last night it had looked like a bomb had gone off — a laptop, a half-dozen books, two bookends, a lamp, and every paper on the planet had been dashed across the floor plus the horrendous mess I had made of the desktop between the dripping and the fingernail gouges. Today, everything is restored to its original state as though nothing ever happened. I'm assuming this Mrs. Jones has magical powers à la Mary Poppins.

I find my purse sitting neatly on the desk and fish out my phone. I send Kate a quick text:

*Sorry I didn't call, I got busy. I'll tell you all about it tonight at dinner. Beers and hamburgers okay? Love ya!*

Replacing the phone, I notice the contract sitting in the middle of the desk, still unsigned. I sit and read over it quietly and carefully, refreshing my memory. I don't remember half the stuff in here from last night, but then, I wasn't paying very close attention before. I pick it and my purse up and march back to the kitchen.