fifty-shades-of-grey

“Bit of a foregone conclusion wasn’t I?”“Are you? I’m not sure we’ve concluded anything yet, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.What does he mean by that? Our negotiations? Our, err… relationship… whatever thatis? He’s still so cryptic. I serve up the breakfast onto the heated plates and lay them on theplacemats. I hunt in the refrigerator and find some maple syrup.I glance up at Christian, and he’s waiting for me to sit down.“Miss Steele.” He motions to one of the bar stools.“Mr. Grey.” I nod in acknowledgement. I climb up and wince slightly as I sit down.“Just how sore are you?” he asks as he sits down. His gray eyes dark.I flush. Why does he ask such personal questions?“Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to,” I snap at him. “Did you wishto offer your commiserations?” I ask too sweetly. I think he’s trying to stifle a smile, butI can’t be sure.“No. I wondered if we should continue your basic training.”“Oh.” I stare at him dumbfounded as I stop breathing and everything inside me clenchestight. Ooh… that’s so nice. I suppress my groan.“Eat, Anastasia.” My appetite has become uncertain again… more… more sex… yesplease.“This is delicious, incidentally.” He grins at me.I try a forkful of omelet but can barely taste it. Basic training! I want to fuck yourmouth. Does that form part of basic training?“Stop biting your lip. It’s very distracting, and I happen to know you’re not wearinganything under my shirt which makes it even more distracting,” he growls.I dunk my teabag in the small pot that Christian has provided. My mind is in a whirl.“What sort of basic training did you have in mind?” I ask, my voice slightly too high,betraying my wish to sound as natural, disinterested, and calm as I can with my hormoneswreaking havoc through my body.“Well, as you’re sore, I thought we could stick to oral skills.”I choke on my tea, and I stare at him, eyes wide and gaping. He pats me gently on theback and passes me some orange juice. I cannot tell what he’s thinking.“That’s if you want to stay,” he adds. I glance up at him, trying to recover my equilibrium.His expression is unreadable. It’s so frustrating.“I’d like to stay for today. If that’s okay. I have to work tomorrow.”“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?”“Nine.”“I’ll get you to work by nine tomorrow.”I frown. Does he want me to stay another night?“I’ll need to go home tonight – I need clean clothes.”“We can get you some here.”I don’t have spare cash to spend on clothes. His hand comes up, and he grasps mychin, tugging it so my lip is released from the grip of my teeth. I’m not even aware I’vebeen biting my lip.“What is it?” he asks.“I need to be home this evening.”