Chapter 179


    I remember Le, broken and filthy as I bathed her in Ana’s old apartment and how I felt seeing her like


    that.


    Hell. I’ve had enough of this shit.


    “This discussion is over. Let’s go home.”


    Ana nces at her watch. “It’s too early.”


    “Home!” I insist.


    Please. Ana.


    “Christian, I’m tired of having the same argument with you.” She sounds weary.


    What argument?


    “You know,” she continues, correctly interpreting my frown, “I do something you don’t like, and you think


    of some way to get back at me. Usually involving some of your kinky fuckery, which is either mind-


    blowing or cruel.” She shrugs.


    Belongs to (N)?vel/Drama.Org.


    Cruel? Shit.


    Yeah, she safe-worded on you, Grey.


    Fuck.


    “Mind-blowing?” I ask, because I don’t want to dwell on cruel.


    “Usually, yes.”


    “What was mind-blowing?”


    Ana looks exasperated. “You know.”


    “I can guess.” Various erotic memories cloud my imagination. Ana in a spreader bar, shackled to the


    bed, the cross…in my childhood bedroom…


    “Christian, I—” She sounds breathless; distracting her has worked.


    “I like to please you.” I brush my thumb over her bottom lip.


    “You do.” Her voice is petal-soft, caressing me. Everywhere.


    “I know.” I whisper in her ear, “It’s the one thing I do know.” When I stand, Ana’s eyes are closed. She


    opens them abruptly and purses her lips, probably in response to my wicked smile.


    I want her.


    I don’t want to argue.


    “What was mind-blowing, Anastasia?” I coax her.


    “You want the list?”


    “There’s a list?”


    “Well, the handcuffs,” she mumbles, and for a moment she looks lost in the memory of our honeymoon


    tryst.


    No. I grab her hand and skim my thumb around her wrist. “I don’t want to mark you.” My eyes meet


    hers, imploring her. “Come home.”


    “I have work to do.”


    “Home.”


    Please, Ana. I don’t want to fight.


    We gaze at each other, our battlefield the space between us as I try desperately to understand what


    she might be thinking. I know I’ve angered her, and at the back of my mind I’m concerned that I might


    be doing exactly what Flynn has warned me against—sabotaging our rtionship and killing my own


    happiness.


    I need to know we’re okay.


    Her pupils widen, growingrger and darkening her eyes. I can’t resist her. Raising my hand, I caress


    her cheek with the back of my fingers. “We could stay here.” My voice is hoarse, betraying my desire


    and my need to reconnect with my wife.


    Ana blinks and shakes her head, stepping back. “Christian, I don’t want to have sex here. Your


    mistress has just been in this room.”


    “She was never my mistress.”


    Only Elena fits that title.


    Don’t go there, Grey.


    “That’s just semantics, Christian.” She sounds weary, once more.


    “Don’t overthink this, Ana. She’s history.” And I don’t know if I’m referring to Le or Elena, but the


    same applies to both of them.


    They’re history.


    Ana sighs, and she regards me as if I’m aplex riddle to solve, her eyes beseeching me, but for


    what I don’t know. Suddenly, her expression changes to one of rm, and she gasps, and I think she


    says no.


    But she is history. “Yes,” I implore her, and press my lips to hers, to drive away her doubt.


    “Oh, Christian,” she whispers, “you scare me sometimes.” She grasps my head in her hands and pulls


    my lips to hers, kissing me.


    I’m lost. Scare her?


    I fold her in my arms and whisper against her lips, “Why?”


    “You could turn away from her so easily.”


    This time I know she’s referring to my attitude to Le. “And you think I might turn away from you, Ana?


    Why the hell would you think that? What’s brought this on?”


    “Nothing. Kiss me. Take me home.” Her lips find mine once more, but this time there’s a desperate


    edge to her kiss.


    What’s wrong, Ana?


    The thought is fleeting as I surrender to her tongue.


    Ana writhes beneath me. “Oh, please,” she begs.


    “All in good time.” I have her exactly where I want her, on our bed in Esc, trussed up and avable.


    She groans and pulls on the leather restraints that bind each elbow to each knee. She’spletely


    open to me, and helpless, as I focus my attention and the tip of my tongue on her clitoris. She groans


    as I tease the potent powerhouse buried in her flesh, feeling it harden under my relentless ministration.


    God, I love this.


    Her fingers find my hair, tugging it hard.


    But I don’t stop.


    She’s trying to straighten her legs. She’s close. “Don’te.” My words float over her wet flesh. “I will


    spank you if youe.”


    She groans and tugs harder.


    “Control, Ana. It’s all about control.” And I double down on my efforts, my tongue continuing to provoke


    her, bringing her closer and closer. I know this is a losing battle for her, she’s so near.


    “Ah!” she cries, and her climax spirals through her body. She raises her face to the ceiling and arches


    her back as shees.


    Yes!


    I don’t stop until she screams. “Oh, Ana,” I chide her, nipping her thigh. “You came.” Flipping her onto


    her front, I smack her hard on her behind, so she cries out.


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