“fuck!”iscreamandchristiangrabsmyhipsandclimaxesloudly,holding

mestill.

thewomanisstillsinging.christianalwaysputssongsonrepeatinhere.

strange.iamcurledinhisarmsonhislapourlegstangledtogether,withmy

headrestingagainsthischest.we’reontheflooroftheplayroombythe

table.

“welcomeback,”hesays,peelingtheblindfoldoffme.iblinkasmyeyes

adjusttothemutedlight.tippingmychinback,heplantsasoftkissonmy

lips,hiseyesfocusedonandanxiouslysearchingmine.ireachuptocaress

hisface.hesmiles.

“well,didifulfillthebrief?”heasks,amused.

ifrown.“brief?”

“youwantedrough,”hesaysgently.

igrin,becauseijustcan’thelpit.“yes.ithinkyoudid...”

heraiseshiseyebrowsandgrinsbackatme.“i’mverygladtohearitmrs.

grey.youlookthoroughlywellfuckedandbeautifulatthismoment.”he

caressesmyface,hislongfingersstrokingmycheek.

“ifeelit,”ipurr.

hereachesdownandkissesmetenderly,hislipssoftandwarmandgiving

againstmine.“youneverdisappoint.”heleansbacktogazedownatme.

“howdoyoufeel?”hisvoiceissoftwithconcern.

“good,”imurmur,feelingaflushcreepacrossmyface.

“thoroughlywellfucked.”ismileshyly.

“why,mrs.grey,youha一veadirty,dirtymouth.”christianfeignsanoffended

expression,buticanhearhisamusement.

“that’sbecausei’mmarriedtoadirty,dirtyboy,mr.grey.”

hegrinsaridiculouslystupidgrinandit’sinfectious.“i’mgladyou’remarried

tohim.”hegentlytakesholdofmybraid,liftsittohislips,andkissestheend

withreverence,hiseyesglowingwithlove.ohmy...didieverha一vea

chanceofresistingthisman?

ireachforhislefthandandplantakissonhisweddingring,aplainplatinum

bandmatchingmyown.“mine,”iwhisper.

“yours,”heresponds.hecurlshisarmsaroundmeandpresseshisnose

intomyhair.“shallirunyouabath?”

“hmm.onlyifyoujoinmeinit.”

110|page

eljames

“okay,”hesays.hesetsmeontomyfeetandstandsupbesideme.he’sstill

wearinghisjeans.

“willyouwearyour...er...otherjeans?”

hefrownsdownatme.“otherjeans?”

“theonesyouusedtowearinhere.”

“thosejeans?”hemurmursblinkingwithperplexedsurprise.

“youlookveryhotinthem.”

“doi?”

“yeah...imean,reallyhot.”

hesmiles,shyly.“wellforyou,mrs.grey,maybeiwill.”hebendstokissme

thengrabsthesmallbowlonthetablethatcontainsthebuttplug,thetubeof

lubricant,theblindfold,andmypanties.

“whocleansthesetoys?”iaskasifollowhimovertothechest.hefrownsat

me,asifnotunderstandingthequestion.“me.mrs.jones.”

“what?”

henods,amusedandembarrassed,ithink.heswitchesoffthemusic.“well

—um...”

“yoursubsusedtodoit?”ifinishhissentence.hegivesmeanapologetic

shrug.

“here.”hehandsmehisshirtandiputiton,wrappingitaroundmyself.his

scentstillclingstothelinen,andmychagrinaboutbuttplugwashingis

forgotten.helea一vestheitemsonthechest.takingmyhand,heunlocksthe

playroomdoorthenleadsmeoutanddownstairs.ifollowhimmeekly.

theanxiety,thebadmood,thethrill,fear,andexcitementofthecarchase

ha一veallgone.i’mrelaxed—finallysatedandcalm.asweenterour

bathroom,iyawnloudlyandstretch...ateasewithmyselfforachange.

“whatisit?”christianasksasheturnsonthefaucet.ishakemyhead.

“tellme,”heaskssoftly.hespillsjasminebathoilintotherunningwater,

fillingtheroomwithitssweet,sensualscent.iflush.“ijustfeelbetter.”

hesmiles.“yes,you’vebeeninastrangemoodtoday,mrs.grey.”

standing,hepullsmeintohisarms.“iknowyou’reworryingaboutthese

recentevents.i’msorryyou’recaughtupinthem.idon’tknowif111|page

fiftyshadesfreed

it’savendetta,anex-employee,orabusinessrival.ifanythingwereto

happentoyoubecauseofme—”hisvoicedropstoapainedwhisper.icurl

myarmsaroundhim.

“whatifsomethinghappenstoyou,christian?”ivoicemyfear.hegazes

downatme.“we’llfigurethisout.nowlet’sgetyououtofthisshirtandinto

thisbath.”

“shouldn’tyoutalktosawyer?”

“hecanwait.”hismouthhardens,andifeelasuddenpangofpityfor

sawyer.what’shedonetoupsetchristian?

christianhelpsmeoutofhisshirtthenfrownsasiturntohim.mybreastsstill

bearfadedbruisesfromthelovebiteshega一vemeduringourhoneymoon,

butidecidenottoteasehimaboutthem.

“iwonderifryanhascaughtupwiththedodge?”

“we’llsee,afterthisbath.getin.”heholdshishandoutforme.iclimbinto

thehot,fragrantwaterandsittentatively.

“ow.”myassistender,andthehotwatermakesmewince.

“easy,baby,”christianwarns,butashesaysit,theuncomfortablesensation

meltsaway.

christianstripsandclimbsinbehindme,pullingmeagainsthischest.i

nestlebetweenhislegs,andwelieidleandcontentinthehotwater.irunmy

fingersdownhislegs,andgatheringmybraidinonehand,hetwirlsitgently

betweenhisfingers.

“weneedtogoovertheplansforthenewhouse.laterthisevening?”

“sure.”thatwomaniscomingbackagain.mysubconsciousgazesupfrom

volume3ofthecompleteworksofcharlesdickensandglowers.i’mwith

mysubconscious.isigh.unfortunately,giamatteo’sdesignsare

breathtaking.

“imustgetmythingsreadyforwork,”iwhisper.

hestills.“youknowyoudon’tha一vetogobacktowork,”hemurmurs.

ohno...notthisagain.“christian,we’vebeenthroughthis.pleasedon’t

resurrectthatargument.”

hetugsmybraidsomyfacetiltsupandback.“justsaying...”heplantsa

softkissonmylips.

112|page

eljames

ipullonsweatpantsandacamisoleanddecidetofetchmyclothesfromthe

playroom.asimakemywayacrossthehallway,ihearchristian’sraised

voicefromhisstudy.ifreeze.

“wherethefuckwereyou?”

ohshit.he’sshoutingatsawyer.cringing,idashupstairstotheplayroom.i

reallydon’twanttohearwhathehastosaytohim—istillfindshoutychristian

intimidating.poorsawyer.atleastigettoshoutback.

igatherupmyclothesandchristian’sshoes,thennoticethesmallporcelain

bowlwiththebuttplugstillontopofthemuseumchest.well...isupposei

shouldcleanit.iaddittothepileandmakemywaybackdownstairs.i

glancenervouslythroughthegreatroom,butallisquiet...thankhea一vens.

taylorwillbebacktomorrowevening,andchristianisgenerallycalmerwhen

he’saround.taylorisspendingsomequalitytimetodayandtomorrowwith

hisdaughter.iwonderidlyifi’llevergettomeether.

mrs.jonescomesoutoftheutilityroom.westartleeachother.

“mrs.grey—ididn’tseeyouthere.”oh,i’mmrs.greynow!

“hello,mrs.jones.”

“welcomehomeandcongratulations.”shebeamsatme.

“pleasecallmeana.”

“mrs.grey,iwouldn’tfeelcomfortabledoingthat.”

oh!whymusteverythingchange,justbecauseiha一vearingonmyfinger?

“wouldyouliketorunthroughthemenusfortheweek?”sheasks,lookingat

meexpectantly.

menus?

“um...”thisisnotaquestioniha一veeveranticipatedbeingasked.she

smiles.“whenifirstworkedformr.grey,everysundayeveningiwouldrun

throughthemenusfortheupcomingweekwithhimandlistanythinghemight

needfromthegrocerystore.”

“isee.”

“shallitakethoseforyou?”

sheholdsoutherhandsformyclothes.

“oh...um.actuallyiha一ven’tfinishedwiththese.”andtheyarehidingthe

bowlwiththebuttplugin!iblushcrimson.it’sawonderi113|page

fiftyshadesfreed

canlookmrs.jonesintheface.sheknowswhatwedo—shecleansthe

room.jeez,it’sjustweirdsharingmylivingspacewithstaffwhoknow

everything.

“whenyou’reready,mrs.grey.i’dbemorethanhappytorunthroughthings

withyou.”

“thankyou.”weareinterruptedbyanashen-facedsawyerwhostalksoutof

christian’sstudyandbrisklycrossesthegreatroom.hegivesusbothabrief

nod,notlookingeitherofusintheeye,andslinksintotaylor’sstudy.i’m

gratefulforhisintervention,asidon’twishtodiscussmenusorbuttplugs

withmrs.jonesrightnow.offeringherabriefsmile,iscurrybacktothe

bedroom.willievergetusedtoha一vingdomesticstaffatmybeckandcall?i

shakemyhead...oneday,maybe.

idumpchristian’sshoesonthefloorandmyclothesonthebed,andtakethe

bowlwiththebuttplugintothebathroom.ieyeitsuspiciously.itlooks

innocuousenough,andsurprisinglyclean.idon’twanttodwellonthat,andi

washitquicklywithsoapandwater.willthatbeenough?i’llha一vetoaskmr.

sexpertifitshouldbesterilizedorsomething.ishudderatthethought.

ilikethatchristianhasturnedthelibraryovertome.itnowhousesan

attractivewhitewoodendeskicanworkat.itakeoutmylaptopandcheck

mynotesonthefivemanuscriptsireadonhoneymoon.yep,iha一ve

everythingineed.partofmedreadsgoingbacktowork,buticannevertell

christianthat—he’dseizeontheopportunitytomakemequit.iremember

roach’sapoplecticreactionwhenitoldhimiwasgettingmarriedandto

whom,andhow,shortlyafterward,mypositionwasconfirmed.irealizenowit

wasbecauseiwasmarryingtheboss.thethoughtisunwelcome.iamno

longeractingcommissioningeditor—iamanastasiasteele,commissioning

editor.iha一ven’tyetpluckedupthecouragetotellchristianthatiamnot

goingtochangemynameatwork.ithinkmyreasonsaresolid—ineed

somedistancefromhim—butiknowtherewillbeafightwhenhefinally

realizesthat.perhapsishoulddiscussthiswithhimtonight.sittingbackin

mychair,istartmyfinalchoreoftheday.iglanceatthedigitalclockonmy

laptop,whichtellsmeit’ssevenintheevening.114|page

eljames

christianstillhasn’temergedfromhisstudy,soiha一vetime.takingthe

memorycardoutofthenikoncamerailoaditintothelaptoptotransferthe

photographs.asthepicturesupload,ireflectontheday.isryanback?oris

hestillonhiswaytoportland?hashecaughtupwiththemysterywoman?

haschristianheardfromhim?iwantsomeanswers.idon’tcarethathe’s

busy;iwanttoknowwhat’sgoingon,andisuddenlyfeelatadresentfulthat

he’skeepingmeinthedark.irise,intendingtogoandconfronthiminhis

study,butasidothephotosfromthelastfewdaysofourhoneymoonpopup

onscreen.holycrap!

pictureafterpictureofme.asleep,somanyofmeasleep,myhairovermy

faceorfannedoutacrossthepillow,lipsparted...shit—

suckingmythumb.iha一ven’tsuckedmythumbforyears!somanyphotos...i

hadnoideahe’dtakenthese.thereareafewcandidlongshots,including

oneofmeleaningovertherailoftheyacht,staringmoodilyintothedistance.

howdidinotnoticehimtakingthis?ismileatthephotosofmecurledup

beneathhimandlaughing—myhairflyingasistruggle,fightinghistickling,

tormentingfingers.andthere’stheoneofhimandmeonthebedinthe

mastercabinthathetookatarm’slength.iamcuddledonhischestandhe

gazesatthecamera,young,wide-eyed...inlove.hisotherhandcupsmy

head,andiamsmilinglikealove-struckfool,buticannottakemyeyesoff

christian.oh,mybeautifulman,hisruffledjust-fuckedhair,hisgrayeyes

glowing,hislipspartedandsmiling.mybeautifulmanwhocannotbeartobe

tickled,whocouldnotbeartobetouchedjustashortwhileago,yetnowhe

toleratesmytouch.imustaskhimifhelikesit,orwhetherheletsmetouch

himformypleasureratherthanhis.ifrown,gazingdownathisimage,

suddenlyoverwhelmedbymyfeelingsforhim.someoneouttherewantsto

harmhim—firstcharlietango,thenthefireatgeh,andthatdamnedcar

chase.igasp,puttingmyhandtomymouthasaninvoluntarysobescapes.

abandoningmycomputer,ileapuptofindhim—nottoconfronthimnow—

justtocheckthathe’ssafe.

notbotheringtoknock,ibargeintohisstudy.christianissittingathisdesk

andtalkingonthephone.helooksupinsurprisedannoyance,butthe

irritationonhisfacedisappearswhenheseesit’sme.115|page

fiftyshadesfreed

“soyoucan’tenhanceitfurther?”hesays,continuinghisphone

conversation,thoughhedoesn’ttakehiseyesoffme.withouthesitation,i

walkaroundhisdesk,andheturnsinhischairtofaceme,frowning.icantell

he’sthinkingwhatdoesshewant?whenicrawlontohislap,hiseyebrows

shootupinsurprise.iputmyarmsaroundhisneckandcuddleintohim.

gingerly,heputshisarmaroundme.

“um...yes,barney.couldyouholdonemoment?”hecupsthephone

againsthisshoulder.

“ana,what’swrong?”

ishakemyhead.tippingmychinup,hegazesintomyeyes.ipullmyhead

freefromhishold,tuckitbeneathhischin,andcurlupsmalleronhislap.

bemused,hewrapshisfreearmmoretightlyaroundmeandkissesthetop

ofmyhead.

“okay,barney,whatwereyousaying?”hecontinues,wedgingthephone

betweenhisearandhisshoulder,andtapsakeyonhislaptop.agrainy

blackandwhitecctvimageappearsonthescreen...amanwithdark

hairwearingpalecoverallscomesonthescreen.christianpressesanother

key,andthemanwalkstowardthecamera,butwithhisheadbowed.when

themanisclosertothecamera,christianfreezestheframe.he’sstanding

inabrightwhiteroomwithwhatlookslikealonglineoftallblackcabinetsto

hisleft.thismustbegeh’sserverroom.

“okaybarney,onemoretime.”

thescreenspringstolife.aboxappearsaroundtheheadofthemaninthe

cctvfootageandsuddenlywezoomin.isitup,fascinated.

“isbarneydoingthis?”iaskquietly.

“yes,”christiananswers.“canyousharpenthepictureatall?”hesaysto

barney.

thepictureblurs,thenrefocusesmoderatelysharperofthemanconsciously

gazingdownanda一voidingthecctvcamera.asistareathim,achillof

recognitionsweepsupmyspine.thereissomethingfamiliarinthelineofhis

jaw.hehasscruffyshortblackhairthatlooksoddandunkempt...andinthe

newlysharpenedpicture,iseeanearring,asmallhoop.

holycrap!iknowwhoitis.

“christian,”iwhisper.“that’sjackhyde.”

116|page

eljames