Claiming of Fifty shades

Shock

"Do you resent me Christian?" Listening to him talk like that had felt surprisingly painful.

To my utter distress, he wasn't finished.

His eyes turned into slits as though in concentration. His jaw ticked, with a pulse beating in his sculpted cheek. "I'm to be one of those thrills Miss Steele? I don't know whether to feel offended or flattered." He said in a dangerously soft tone, "You've, after all, reduced me to a mere thrill. I see you're making light of me. Kudos to your talent of shrinking a man's ego, without even knowing it. Or maybe you do know it. It makes me wonder if you do it on purpose. Are you indirectly implying my time with you is limited?"

Stunned, my eyes widened. His sudden raw coldness had rendered me feeling like a dear caught in headlights. My head shook fervently, "No! No I don't know how your mind took hold of such an absurd notion—"

He cut me off chillingly, "As long as you're with me, I don't want to hear about your plans with other men."

"I wasn't talking about my plans with other men. I was merely answering your questions!" I sputtered.

"I forbid you to talk about any other man. Understand Miss Steele?" He vehemently stabbed his finger twice on the table.

"Oh for God's sake. How did you manage to get offended—"

"I've made myself clear. Let's not discuss this further."

My lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Forgive me for saying you were a socio-path. Because indeed, you're more insane."

"Certifiably. And since you've embraced my insanity with acceptance, let's move on. I don't like you talking about anyone else. You should have figured this one out sooner."

He knew exactly how, when and where to insert the knife. As soon as I got comfortable around him, he never failed to pull the rug under my feet. And on top of that, he wouldn't leave me to my own devices so I could wallow in pity and move on accepting he was just a silly mirage. I wanted to scream and scratch his face. Then I wanted to scream some more because I'd never been a violent person.

As long as I did and said what pleased him, he was absolutely flexible and charming.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths usually helped to settle the nerves. It didn't help me this time around.

After a few moments passed, I mumbled, "I cannot believe you." Then shook my head in disbelief, "One would think with all of your multiple personalities, at least one would be likeable." I looked up at him, "You act as though... as though your arrogance is a virtue. I don't need to listen to all this. I came on this dinner, perfectly aware about your arrogance. Do you know why I still chose to come?" When he intently kept on looking at me without any reply, I continued stubbornly, "I came on this dinner for the very same reason I mentioned a while earlier; I'd rather regret doing something than not doing it at all. And as much as it pains me to say that, I'm beginning to regret it already."

He had the decency to look a tad disquieted. His face shone with some unreadable expression. He sighed, then took on a determined visage appearing to be reached some decision.

"Look here," Christian started, his voice gruff with a hint of consolation, appearing almost uncomfortable, "if my behaviour offended you, I-I'm deeply regretful. I'm not used to feeling this way." Then leaned forward in defiant resignation, "If this is offensive to you, take my word for it, it is beyond embarrassing for me. I would've left you alone ages ago—if I could. Do you believe I enjoy wanting you?" Sensing my forming scowl, he added, "I'm not in control of myself Miss Steele. I feel irrational around you. When I get back from seeing you, always, almost always, I regret what I had done or said. That puts me on edge." He threw me an accusingly look, "I'm not verbose. Never been. I keep to myself. I know I'm always looked at as a cold and ruthless bastard, infamous for my bad temper, but believe it or not, I'd never went out of my way to be the cause of distress for anyone. Truth be told, I can't be bothered enough to interfere in anybody's life. With you—it's different. Too foreign. Too ter..." He snapped his mouth shut. Too terrifying, he wanted to say. The fact that I could mean something—anything—to him had come as a shock. I could relate to the too terrifying bit. With him my emotions were too terrifying for my own good.