𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘//𝐁.𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

TW: Sexual Activity

Anastasia is running her hands through her hair and pacing up and down her study. Two hands—that's double exasperation. Her usual concrete control seems to have slipped a notch.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me," She castigates me.

"The subject never came up. I'm not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other." I'm staring at my hands. Why am I feeling guilty? Why is she so mad? I peek up at her.

"Well, you know a lot more about me now," She snaps, her mouth presses into a hard line. "I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!" She says it like it's a really dirty word. "Hell, Bil, I just showed you ..." She groans. "May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?"

"Of course I have." I try my best to look affronted. Okay ... maybe twice.

"And a nice young man hasn't swept you o your feet? I just don't understand. You're twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You're beautiful." She runs her hand through her hair again. Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Anastasia Grey thinks I'm beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. Perhaps she's farsighted. My subconscious has reared her somnambulant head. Where was she when I needed her?

"And you're seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience." Her brows knit together. "How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please." I shrug.

"No one's really, you know ..." Come up to scratch, only you. And you turn out to be some kind of monster. "Why are you so angry with me?" I whisper.

"I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with myself. I just assumed ..." She sighs. She regards me shrewdly and then shakes her head. "Do you want to go?" She asks, her voice gentle.

"No, unless you want me to go," I murmur. Oh no ... I don't want to leave.

"Of course not. I like having you here." She frowns as she says this and then glances at her watch. "It's late." And she turns to look at me. "You're biting your lip." Her voice is husky, and she's eyeing me speculatively.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's just that I want to bite it, too, hard." I gasp ... how can she say things like that to me and not expect me to be affected."Come," She murmurs.

"What?"

"We're going to rectify the situation right now."

"What do you mean? What situation?"

"Your situation. Billie, I'm going to make love to you, now."

"Oh." The floor has fallen away. I'm a situation. I'm holding my breath.

"That's if you want to, I mean, I don't want to push my luck."

"I thought you didn't make love. I thought you fucked hard." I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. She gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.

"I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we'll see. I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me. I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea what you're getting yourself into. We can start your training tonight—with the basics. This doesn't mean I've come over all hearts and flowers; it's a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do, too." Her gaze is intense. I flush ... oh my ... wishes do come true.

"But I haven't done all the things you require from your list of rules." My voice is all breathy, hesitant.

"Forget about the rules. Forget about all those details for tonight. I want you. I've wanted you since you fell into my office, and I know you want me. You wouldn't be sitting here calmly discussing punishment and hard limits if you didn't. Please, Billie, spend the night with me." She holds her hand out to me, her eyes are bright, fervent ... excited, and I put my hand in her.