Fifty Shades

4

I wake up feeling too hot. Christian has managed to wrap his entire body around me. His lips parted, and hair lopped down on his forehead. He looks so peaceful and young. My heart warms at the sight of my Fifty. I'm sure I've loved this man since that night at the Heathman Hotel in Portland. He shifts, and I'm free. I decide while I'm up, I'll make breakfast for my man.

I pick up his discarded T-shirt, and I pull it over my head. I strut to the bathroom to grab a hair tie to fix my dreadful sex hair. Before leaving, I check the mirror to notice my flustered cheeks and smile; This is because of him; h makes me happy every second of the day, even when I have wayward thoughts about whether I'm enough for him. Indeed I didn't know what I was missing until I met him.

I head to the kitchen and start making breakfast. When I have the chance, I turn on my cooking playlist. As I mix the pancake batter, Beast of Burden turns on, and I sway my hips to the beat. Listening to music and cooking is my idea of a great way to start the morning. It has some relaxing feel to it. I scoop out some servings of batter and leave it to cook while I start on the eggs. I wonder how fifty likes his eggs. I decide on doing mine before his. I serve breakfast on two plates and put a skillet on for the bacon.

My finger grazes the hot pan, "Fuck.." I whisper. I run cold water over it and dry it with my kitchen towel. I feel hands around my waist and gasp. "Good morning, Anastasia" I smile.

"It was a good morning, Sir" I turn around but remain in his embrace. "I've burned my finger" Christian takes my hand and kisses the injured finger. He draws it into his mouth and sucks gently. "Mm.." I moan in approval; suddenly, it's no longer hurting.

He removes my finger and snakes his hands to my behind, and squeezes lightly. He kisses me briefly. "Better?" I nod in approval. "How do you like your eggs?" I ask sweetly.

"Thoroughly whisked and beaten," he smirks and playfully spanks me. "Of course you do you. Let me finish, please." And I stroll over to the skillet and make his eggs. "Would you like some tea?" He asks.

"Please. Top left Cabinet." It's so strange how normal this feels. Everything else in his life is so complicated and locked off. Yet he stands here making me tea. Perhaps he'll open up more; I've touched his chest a few times. All of which he wasn't awake for, but it counts. I plate the eggs and bacon. I grab some fruit from the fridge and serve them in two small bowls. I arrange our food and sit at the barstool. Christian places my cup of tea in front of me and sits next to me. "This looks delicious, baby" He smiles. "Thanks for the tea Mr. Grey," I say as I take a sip. "The pleasure is all mine," he says and sneaks a kiss on my cheek and then begins eating.

Christian finishes his food and stacks his plates. I still have a few bites left, but I'm mesmerized by this beautiful man that sits next to me. "Anastasia, eat," He demands. "I'm not hungry anymore, not for food, that is," I say seductively. "You're insatiable, but you have to eat" he moves the stray of hair that's escaped my bun. I eat the last few bits of food on my plate and turn to Christian, showing him that I've finished. I don't argue with him about food anymore because I know why he's so particular about it.

He never wants anyone to go hungry because he knows what it's like, but he still won't tell me any more about it. I imagine before he was adopted, he might not have had anything. "Hey, what's wrong?" He pulls me out of my thoughts. "You told me you know what it's like to be profoundly hungry. What did you mean by that?" I ask. "It's too early for this, Ana," he pouts. "Don't pout. It has the same effect on me as it does on you when I do this," I bite my lip.

He parts my legs and stands between them. He kisses me and wraps my arms around his neck. I kiss him hard and pull away before we go any further. "Please answer me," I whisper as I kiss his neck. "Not now, I promise to tell you later. I don't want to sour your mood or mine for the matter." I don't say anything. Instead, I nibble on his ear let my hands run through his beautiful copper-colored hair. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me. I wrap my legs around him, and he takes me to the bedroom.

We stand beside my bed, and he instructs me to let my hair down. It falls loosely over my shoulders. "Hands up" I raise my arms. He takes the hem of his shirt, smoothly glides it up to my body, and throws it onto the bed. "You should be wearing silk, but you look sexy in my t-shirt," He whispers and kisses the corner of my lips. He strips himself of his pants and takes my hand, and leads us to the shower.

After our shower Christian wanders over to his overnight bag. When'd he bring that? I pull on a matching lace bra and panties. I sit on the bed and stare at Christian. He removes his towel and puts it on the corner chair. He turns, and I can see all of him. My mouth drops open, and It's like I'm seeing all of him for the first time again. Oh my. "Enjoying the view?" He asks with a smirk as he pulls on his boxer briefs. "It's a mighty fine one," I whisper. He laughs. Is everything about this man sexy?

I pull some blue jeans, a casual shirt, and an overcoat. Christian is wearing a knitted sweater and those jeans that hang on his hips in the sexiest way. "What do you want to do today?" I ask. "You," He says casually. I can feel my face warm up. "That's not an option." He raises his eyebrows as if confused.

"And why not?" I walk out of the room and grab my keys. Christian grabs me by the waist and turns me around. I giggle and pull away. "Because as much as I'd love to be under you, I have some things I need to get done."

"Okay, let's go then." He says. We exit my apartment, and I lock the door.

"Where first?"

I have a few things to do; I have to go shopping, pick up a copy of a manuscript, and talk to Christian's trainer Claude. "Perhaps we should go talk to your trainer first," I say as we head to my car—the Saab he bought me after the submissive special got wrecked by his ex. He opens the passenger seat and ushers me in. He closes the door and saunters over to the driver's side. A chivalrous dominant, how perfect. "Why can't I drive for a change?" I asked, sounding like a child. "I don't like to be driven." He says as he pulls out of the parking spot. "Taylor drives you," I state. "I trust his driving skills implicitly" I remember him telling me that Taylor even knows how to drive a tank— he's ex-military. I roll my eyes and stare out the window as he pulls into the Seattle streets.

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