fifty-shades-of-grey

Christian bursts through the wooden door of the boathouse and pauses to flick on somelights. Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large woodenbuilding. From my upside-down view, I can see an impressive motor launch in the dockfloating gently on the dark water, but I only get a brief look before he’s carrying me upsome wooden stairs to the room above.He pauses at the doorway and touches another switch – halogens this time, they aresofter, on a dimmer – and we’re in an attic room with sloping ceilings. It’s decorated witha nautical New England theme: navy blues and creams with a dash of red. The furnishingsare sparse, just a couple of couches are all I can see.Christian sets me on my feet on the wooden floor. I don’t have time to examine mysurroundings – my eyes can’t leave him. I am mesmerized… watching him like one wouldwatch a rare and dangerous predator, waiting for him to strike. His breathing is harsh butthen he’s just carried me across the lawn and up a flight of stairs. Gray eyes blaze withanger, need, and pure unadulterated lust.Holy shit. I could spontaneously combust from his look alone.“Please don’t hit me,” I whisper, pleading.His brow furrows, his eyes widening. He blinks twice.“I don’t want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don’t.”