Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 15

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"How come no one knows where we are?" You ask.

"Would you rather someone did?"

You tilt your head and smile. "I'm not worried, you know? I do trust you."

You let the words slip out faster than you can catch them. I trust Christian Grey. Is it an odd sentiment? One could never know. But it was a sentiment spoken from the heart and not the mind. You are comfortable around him. You don't mind his presence. Yes, it can be overwhelming at times. And others, your panties get so soaking wet you hope he can't smell it on your skin. Is it an odd sentiment? Maybe, but what's normal these days?

Your hands are in your jacket pockets as you walk side by side through a twisty path. Trees hover grand and wistfully play with the wind. The air is cleaner; the sounds of the city muted. You and Christian are far away from city life. Gone behind you; disappearing in a mirage of a forgotten kingdom, though deeply settled on the back of your mind is a reality that you must return to. Though, for now, it is a reality you are gladly parted from.

Yes, your heart races near Christian Grey, but it is not out of fear, but rather, an unsatisfied butterfly machine-gunning its wings. Trying to take flight from your stomach and onto Christian Grey's tongue. The butterfly is fiery red and would melt into him. You'd melt into him. With appreciation. With gratitude. With a longing to be touched by a man that does not touch; to be felt by a man that does not feel; to be cared for by a man that does not care.

"I'm not good with...emotions," Christian says. "In fact, if it were up to me, I'd rather spare it."

You look down. "I don't want you doing anything you don't want to do."

"It's just not normal for me to do."

You shrug. "Then why are we here?"

Christian sighs, running a hand through his shiny, brown coif. He stops. "If for one fleeting moment I can have you, I'd rather it be here. Now. Even only for a second."

You shake your head and continue walking. He follows. "You can't keep saying things like that."

"Like what?"

"Beautiful things."

He laughs a rockslide of deepness. "Don't tell me you're uncomfortable with it."

"From you I am."

His smile fades. "Why?"

"Because."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Madison."

"Christian." He chuckles as you awkwardly continue, "I'm sorry for our first encounter."

"You're apologising?" he asks incredulously.

"I must've given you the impression that I'm easy for doing what I did. There's no excuse. But I'm not. I'm not a person who can have one night stands and then be discarded as if I was unimportant."

"I wouldn't do that. I'm rough, but I'm not cold." You eye him and he tilts his head from side to side. "Okay, okay, I may be cold, but not to women."

And there it was. To women. You had been avoiding it all along without knowing until the words were forced out by his tongue. To women. Women. Other women. Many women. What number are you? Could you ever be satisfied with a life marked by an interlude in another man's life? To him you were just a number. Another women. But to you, he was Christian Grey. There was no balance. No meeting of the eyes. And it isn't as if you were asking for a relationship, you just aren't the hopping type.

This was hard to talk about to man like Christian Grey. A man that only wants sex, rough, no vanilla, sex; how could your concerns be welcomed? Simple. They won't be. You're convinced the minute you start talking about your concerns, he will do more than discard you. He will forget you. Could you live with that?

"Madison?"

You are both approaching a small pier that leads into a lake littered with leaves floating over the surface. Tall trees open up to bright sky, cold as night.

"I have...concerns," you test. Perhaps you've been wrong this whole time.

"Yes...?"

"Just concerns," you say, keeping your eyes on the rippling water and the falling leaves, "things that I'm not sure I can talk to you about. Or want to even know."

"You assume to know too much, Madison."

"It's not an assumption," you shake your head. "You just want sex, right?" He doesn't reply. "How do I know I won't want more, and that it won't hurt when my feelings aren't reciprocated?"

He smiles and steps closer. "I can't promise you anything."

"I know. That's what scares me."

"I think it's exciting."

"Yeah, because you've done this before."

He huffs air through his enlarged nostrils. "I want you." He takes your hand and turns your body to face him. "Simply put, I want you."

"Christian..." you breathe.

"Do you want me?"

You look hazily at him, his eyes angular and brooding. You nod. "Yes..."

"Isn't that all we need?" You shrug. He pulls you in closer. "Perhaps a kiss?"

You nod. "One kiss."

He eyes your plump lips and drags his thumb from your bottom lip down to your neck. He angles your neck backwards and places a soft, long kiss on your neck. In between kisses he rubs his lips back and forth over your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

"That's more than one kiss," you breathe, your eyes closed.

"It's never enough," he whispers. "Is it?"

"Why don't we just...hang out?"

He pushes space between the both of you. "I don't hang out," he smiles.

"Well," you feel your cheeks heat up as you look at the water, "you were interested in seeing my place."

He smiles wider. "Where you squaller."

You narrow your eyes at the joke. "I thought maybe we could take it slow."

"I think we're past slow."

Your mind reverts back to that one fleeting moment in the Red Room, where you let all your inhibitions escape. The operative word being 'escape'.

"Yes," you nod.

"And I'm not an intimate person. You know this."

"I do. But I wasn't suggesting intimacy."

"Then what?"

"That you'd just see the place."

"And then leave?"

You nod. "Why not?"

He sighed. "Okay."

You blink twice. "Okay?"

"What? You want it in writing?"

"Nope. 'Okay' is...okay."

A pause intrudes. "Let's go?"

Your brows lift. "Now?"

"Not now?"

"No, no," you shake your head, "now's fine."

"Good."

A somewhat comfortable silence fills the thin, crisp air as your feet crunch over the dead leaves alongside Christian Grey; back from whence the both of you came...