22 February 2013

Chapter 55 - The Honeymooners

Anastasia Rose Grey. My wife. I love rolling those words around in my head, and I love saying them out loud. I don’t think I will ever tire of hearing or saying them.

The staff have all been advised that the correct protocol from now on is that, whatever my wife may say, she is always to be addressed as Mrs. Grey. This is partly to prevent anyone from becoming over familiar or forgetting their place just because Ana is still very young and tends to have a rather relaxed attitude towards staff, but it’s also because I just fucking love hearing her called ‘Mrs. Grey’. 

It makes me feel content and secure, because now unarguably her place in the world is by my side, as my wife. Her title, and the rings that she wears on the third finger of her left hand are proof to the world that she belongs to me. Taken. Mine. It tells every other man to fuck off and leave my property alone.
Anastasia’s husband.

The word husband comes from an old Norse word meaning ‘Master of the House’, so naturally, I fucking love being referred to as Ana’s husband. I feel more relaxed because now I have legal rights which allow me to be involved in her life. I can take care of her, provide for her, make her happy, make her dreams come true. Cherish is the word I like best. I will cherish my adored wife.

Once we’re on board my jet, it’s finally time for Ana to discover where we are going for our honeymoon. The thrilled look on my wife’s face when I tell her our first destination is London is worth all the meticulous planning our trip has involved. The sheer excitement that bubbles out of her when I tell her we are also going to Paris and then on to the South of France makes me feel so happy that this trip to Europe is making some of her dreams come true. 

This is what I want to spend my life doing now. Making Ana happy and making her dreams come true in ways she hasn’t even imagined yet. I want us to start by sharing as many firsts as possible on our honeymoon.

After having to be sociable with all the people at our wedding, I’m more than happy to finally have Ana all to myself, as we sit and enjoy a meal together once we’ve taken off. We toast to our future with a glass of our favorite Bollinger pink champagne, which is something I introduced her to. 

There are so many other things I can introduce her to that I know she is going to love while we are in Europe, and I can't wait.

I'm so glad I insisted she didn’t change out of her gorgeous wedding dress so that I could appreciate it for as long as possible, but once we finish our meal, I can't wait to get her out of it.

So I lead her to the bedroom that Ana didn’t even realize my jet had. It’s small and intimate, perfect for our first lovemaking as husband and wife.

“I thought we’d spend our wedding night at thirty five thousand feet. It’s something I've never done before,” I explain.

Ana gapes at me in disbelief when she realizes my intentions. But I can see she’s excited at the thought of what I have in mind. That’s my girl.

I loved seeing all that glorious chestnut brown hair of hers gracefully pinned up to expose her shoulders and neck for our wedding, but now I enjoy unpinning each lock of hair, because I really love seeing it cascading down her back.

“You have such beautiful hair, Ana,” I whisper as I run my fingers through it.

Then it is finally time to remove her wedding gown, but I don’t want to rush things. We have all the time in the world. 

So I slowly finger the gorgeous lace that sits across her shoulders, before undoing each of the tiny pearl buttons down the back of her dress. The fine silk of her dress feels exquisite as I peel it away to let it pool in a cloud at her feet. 

I’ve been wondering all day what I would discover underneath, and what I find is even better than I imagined.
Ana’s wearing a pale blush pink corset, with garter straps, white silk stockings and lacy panties and her Jimmy Choo wedding shoes.

I just stand and stare at this vision of sexy loveliness that is for my eyes only. You are one lucky son of a bitch, Grey.

“You like?” Ana asks shyly. Do I like? Is she fucking kidding me? Does she have no idea how amazing she looks?

“More than like, baby. You look sensational,” I say, as I help her step out of her dress.

I get her to twirl round for me so I can see her from all angles. Without question, she has the most perfect and sexiest ass on the planet, and seeing it barely covered in tiny scraps of pink lace and silk makes me want to take her right now, this second, but I restrain myself, even as I gaze at her lovely legs in the silk stockings and high heels. I want this to be a long, lingering love making to celebrate the fact that we are husband and wife.

We slowly undress each other, savoring the removal of each layer. Ana smiles as she undoes my silver gray tie, knowing what memories it holds. As I shrug off my shirt, I carefully remove my new cufflinks and put them in the pocket of my pants, not wanting to risk losing my precious wedding present from Ana.

She takes my hand and tenderly kisses my wedding ring, showing how she loves me wearing the sign of our marriage just as much as I do. I love that she is possessive of me. I’ve never worn any kind of ring before, so it feels odd, but in a great way. I love that we have matching rings, and I'm proud that it proclaims to the world that I am Ana’s husband. I'm no longer available. I only want Anastasia.

We end up on the bed, and I flip her onto her front so I can unhook her beautiful corset. I love it, but I want her naked, and I want me naked too.

I want the first fuck of our married life to be sensational. I want her to have a mind blowing orgasm.  I know the best way to set Ana up for this, so I push her legs apart to start kissing my way up her legs, teasing her until I reach my goal.
She moans because she knows what I'm about to do to her.


“Ah, wife of mine,” I murmur as I smell the muskiness of her arousal. Then I start licking and kissing and sucking her sweetness, holding her still when she starts to buck off the bed, as I skillfully use my tongue on her clitoris in the way I know drives her crazy with need. I love doing this to her, I love being able to give her such pleasure. So I take her right to the edge, but then stop just before she climaxes, much to her obvious frustration as she groans loudly.

“So impatient, Mrs. Grey. We have until we touch down on the Emerald Isle,” I remind her, as I start kissing and sucking her pretty nipples next, knowing how responsive she is to this form of stimulation. I love that I know her so intimately, and I love that no one else knows these things about her.

“Husband, I want you. Please.”

Oh, I want her too, and seeing as she’s begged so nicely, I comply with her wishes, as I move up to look at her beautiful face. The face of my beloved.

“Mrs. Grey…wife. We aim to please. I love you,” I whisper, as she runs her hands down my back and then grabs my backside to encourage me. I love it when she does that. It shows how much she wants what I'm about to give her.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back.

“Eyes open. I want to see you.” You’re my wife, and my lover. I want you to look at me.

I position my cock at her wet, slick entrance, then slowly slide in, feeling her luscious heat enveloping me in her special heaven that only I have ever experienced, and only I ever will.

“Christian…ah…” she moans with pleasure.

I love how we fit together so perfectly. My cock fills her completely. Her tight silken walls surround me completely. There is no better sensation in the world than the feeling of my cock sliding in and out of my wife, over and over, faster and harder, pushing us to climb higher, before flying over the edge to find our release together.

We spend most of the flight sleeping and love making in turns. Every shade of wedding vanilla. Me on top. Her on top. From behind. She’s insatiable. I'm insatiable.  It’s the best possible start to a honeymoon that a man could wish for.




I remember first coming here with my parents as part of a trip to take in some of the great sights of Europe. We always had some kind of overseas trip in the summer recess, as they’ve always strongly believed that travel broadens the mind. 

I don’t think I really appreciated it at the time, as I found constantly being with my parents and siblings for several weeks at a stretch pretty stressful. 

Subsequently, I've been in London on business a few times, but I’ve never had time to take in the sights.

I've drawn up an itinerary for our honeymoon to take in the sights that I think Ana will appreciate the most, and I've also tried to include some of the lesser known and maybe quieter spots that I think she would like.

Wherever we go we will have a close protection team escorting us, which Ana hates. She’s torn between ignoring them as I instruct her, or giving in to her naturally friendly nature and chatting to them, which I strongly discourage. 

They need to concentrate on their job and not let themselves be distracted by my beautiful wife. At least I'm less well known outside of Seattle, so hopefully the paparazzi will be less likely to bother us while we are away.

Taylor is escorting us for the whole trip, but after lengthy discussions with Welch, the decision was taken to employ local operatives in each overseas location, because they will have vital local knowledge that would be lacking if we brought our own team in with us.

I’ve insisted that all the temporary operatives we employ must be ex-military with all the necessary accreditation. So here in London, we have John Andrews, who is ex SAS, and Bruce Farrell, who is ex SBS.  

Then in France, we will have two ex BFST operatives – Philippe and Gaston Cloutier. Apparently they are identical twins, so that will be another first. They all come highly recommended by contacts of Taylor and Welch, as I believe there are links and contacts between all the different Special Forces – a kind of a secret brotherhood.

I have also taken the opportunity to set up some business meetings in London, which will give Ana the chance for some down time to get over the inevitable jet lag. I don’t need as much sleep as much as her, so it won’t affect me as badly as I anticipate it will her.

We’re staying at Brown’s Hotel in Piccadilly, right in the heart of London, and at breakfast on our first morning, I present Ana with my wedding gift to her. It’s a platinum Omega watch to match mine. It has a very special personal inscription.

You are my more
My love, My life

I want her to see those words every day as she puts her watch on, and have them next to her always as a reminder that she is everything to me. Everything.

 “Christian! It’s beautiful, and the inscription…it’s so romantic,” she whispers as she smiles shyly at me.

“Put it on,” I order, pleased at her reaction. I'm really working hard on bringing my romantic ‘hearts and flowers’ side up to speed, because I love seeing Ana’s face light up when I get it right. And I love giving her presents, of course. 

My wife will have the best of everything, with no further talk of her rejecting gifts from me. I can buy her whatever I fucking well like now.

We spend the first couple of days in London sightseeing. I’ve planned that we will take in a lot of sightseeing in the first two weeks of our trip which will be quite tiring, but then we can have a more relaxing time on the yacht I’ve hired in the South of France for the final week of our honeymoon.

 Of course I will be remaining in touch with my office the whole time, because I know I'll be unable to fully relax if I can’t keep my finger on the pulse of all my business affairs. Control freak. It’s just the way I am because I love what I do, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t impinge on our time excessively.

We have a picnic at Kew Gardens on a lovely sunny day.

And I take my little bookworm for a private viewing of the Charles Dickens Museum, at his only surviving London address in Bloomsbury. She is fascinated to see original manuscripts and the actual desk where he sat.

We go to the National Gallery to view the classic art, and then as a complete contrast we visit the Tate Modern to take in the Damien Hirst exhibition, both agreeing that we like his ‘Anatomy of an Angel’ sculptures.

However, neither of us is keen on his work made up of flies stuck onto a canvas, although it shows a truly original train of thought which I admire.  I am, however, fascinated by his work ‘For the Love of God’ -  a human skull encrusted with 8,601 diamonds that sold for a reputed fifty million pounds sterling. Ana throws me a suspicious look when she sees my interest, but I’m not in the market for acquiring this type of art – not on this trip anyway. 

It’s fun wandering through art galleries together and discussing what we like, and what we don’t. It’s fun just spending time together.

We have a meal at the Clos Maggiore restaurant in Covent Garden, reputed to be the most romantic restaurant in London.  It is certainly very cozy – I’m finding it hard to get used to how small everywhere seems compared to back home, but Ana loves it. 

After our meal, we head over to see ‘Tosca’ at the Royal Opera House. I love watching Ana’s entranced face as she hasn’t been to the opera before.

“I feel like I'm the Julia Roberts character in ‘Pretty Woman’” Ana confides, with a big goofy grin.

“Yeah, but she was a hooker. You, on the other hand, are my sweet, innocent wife,” I point out.

“Not so sweet and innocent since I met you, hmm? Especially after last night, Mr. Grey,” she smirks at me.

“Fair point, well made as ever, Mrs. Grey,” I grin back at her.

My wife excelled herself to prove she is fast becoming an expert with her fellatio skills. Of course she has had a Master instructing her, but she certainly has a lot of natural ability.


After a couple of very busy days, I think Ana is quite happy to have a quiet day, so she can just relax and chill while I go off to my business meetings. However, I need to make sure she is going to stay in the hotel while I am out. I don’t want her wondering around London without me, even with security in tow. I need to know exactly where she is at all times, and that she is in a secure place - I can't relax and concentrate on my work otherwise. 

But given half the chance, I know Ana would love to sneak off, with complete disregard for her personal safety, especially after what she said to me yesterday.

“Christian, do we have to have security with us all the time? Over here, no one knows who we are, so couldn’t we just go out by ourselves? I think all the body guards just draw more attention to us and make us more of a target. And I’d love to just sit on a London bus like a normal person, or travel on the tube instead of in a big car with all the bodyguards. Please? It would be so much more fun if it was just us.”

“No, Ana. Security is essential at all times. No argument on this,” I insisted.

There is no way I’m taking any chances, not since it was confirmed that Charlie Tango was sabotaged. Becoming my wife has put Ana at high risk, so it is my absolute priority to ensure her safety at all times.

Luckily I think she is so tired after our busy schedule that she will not be tempted to try and disobey me while I'm out today, but her security detail, one of the Brits, has been left in little doubt that under no circumstances is my wife to be allowed out on her own. 

He has positioned himself directly outside our hotel suite to ensure there will be no sneaking off by her on his watch.


It’s late when I get back from my business meetings. It’s been a very busy and hectic day, but I’m pleased with what I’ve achieved – I had as much as possible scheduled in for today so that only one day of our honeymoon would be taken up.

Ana’s already in bed, so I quickly undress and slide in next to her. I run my hand under the satin night dress she’s wearing, preparing to put her in the mood for some love making after being away from her all day, because I can't get enough of my gorgeous wife. 

But as my hand reaches the top of her legs, there’s something missing. There are no soft curls for me to run my fingers through.

“What the hell have you done?” I exclaim, as I reach to put the bedside light on.

Ana turns to look at me, blushing deeply as she tries to pull her nightdress down, but I won’t let her. I want to see what’s going on.

 “Ana!” I quickly discover that she is denuded. No question - there is a distinct lack of pubic hair.

“I – err…shaved,” she explains bashfully.

Why is she so embarrassed about this? I fucking love what she’s done, all of her own accord.

“I can see that. Why?”

Wow. She looks amazing. And hot. Amazingly hot. I can't stop grinning at how great she looks, because now there’s no camouflage to prevent me seeing every little detail of her sweet pussy.

But Ana seems mortified as she covers her face with her hands. Does she think I’m laughing at her? I need to reassure her, so I mustn't laugh, although I'm finding it hard because I'm so pleased.

“Hey. Don’t hide. Tell me. Why?”

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you. I'm sorry. I'm…delighted,” I try and explain.


“Tell me. Why?”

“This morning after you left for your meeting, I took a shower and was remembering all your rules.”

So Ana is still worrying about all that shit.

“And I was ticking them off one by one and how I felt about them, and I remembered the beauty salon, and I thought…this is what you’d like. I wasn’t brave enough to get a wax,” she whispers.

Ana is trying so hard, thinking of extra ways to please me, when she is already everything I could possibly want and need. But this means a lot, as I know she has done it because she loves me, not because she is mindlessly following a set of rules.

“Oh, Ana. You beguile me,” I whisper, as I tenderly kiss her. What she’s done for me is so fucking sexy that I have to take a closer look.

“I think I should do a thorough inspection of your handiwork, Mrs. Grey.”

“What?” No,” she protests, as she tries to cover her modesty.

“Oh, no you don’t, Anastasia.”

I grasp her hands and pry them away, then move between her legs and pin her hands by her side.

To see her finally without hair is such an incredibly erotic sight. Although I always insisted my subs came fully waxed and hairless, when I first saw Ana I found I rather liked her little triangle of brown curls, because it showed she was different – a symbol of her innocence in a way.  

And I’ve not raised the subject of waxing again for fear of resurrecting her insecurities when I know already she worries she can't do everything my subs used to. But now I can't hide the fact that I fucking love seeing her intimate flesh naked, and I can show her how much extra pleasure she will experience with such a highly sensitive area exposed in this way for the first time.

“Well, what have we here?” I tease, as I kiss her bare skin and then scrape my bristly chin across.

“Ah!” she squeals, because it is so sensitive.

But as I look closely, I can see she’s missed a little bit right underneath. I guess it must be really hard for her to shave accurately among all her delicate folds.

“I think you missed a bit,” I state, as I perform a thorough inspection of my wife’s most intimate area.

“Oh…Damn,” she mutters.

“I have an idea.”

Now she’s initiated this, I want to see her totally smooth and hairless. I don’t want anything to spoil her perfection.  So I head to the bathroom, and return with my shaving gear, along with a towel for her to rest on while I complete this personal grooming task for her.

But Ana is horrified when she realizes my intention.

“No. No. No.”

“Mrs. Grey, if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. Lift your hips.”

“Christian! You are not shaving me.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because…it’s just too…”

“Intimate? Ana, I crave intimacy with you – you know that. Besides, after some of the things we’ve done, don’t get all squeamish with me now. And I know this part of your body better than you do.”

Baby, I’ve touched and kissed and rubbed and fingered and licked and sucked and fucked virtually every part of your body in some way. I love every bit of you. It all belongs to me. I'm only taking care of what is mine by completing your intimate grooming for you.

“It’s just wrong!” she whines.

“This isn’t wrong – this is hot.” Why the fuck didn’t I think of this before?

“This turns you on?”

“Can’t you tell?” I glance down at my rock solid erection to prove the point. “I want to shave you.”

Resigned to her fate, Ana lies back on the bed, throwing her arm over her face to hide her embarrassment.

“If it makes you happy, Christian, go ahead. You are so kinky,” she sighs, as she lifts her hips for me to put the towel under her. Kinky? Me? Of course.

Now I have her permission to get to work, I sit between her legs on the bed.

“I’d really like to tie you up right now,” I murmur, thinking how fantastic that would be.

For practical reasons, I don’t want her to wriggle or move while I'm using my razor on such a delicate area, but there’s no doubt that tying her up would raise this whole experience to another erotic level for me. 

However, I mustn’t push my luck, knowing how hard Ana is already finding this. Perhaps next time, if I'm lucky and she’s more relaxed about the whole thing, she’ll let me restrain her while I shave her. Perhaps it’s something we could try in my playroom. Our playroom. What’s mine is hers.

So I’m very gentle and ultra careful not to cause her any discomfort, as I lather her up and then run the razor over her sensitive folds. I really love doing this, especially as it’s another first for both of us.

And once I've completed the task to my satisfaction, of course I have to spend a considerable amount of time testing out this new version of one of my favorite parts of my wife’s anatomy.




More sightseeing. The Palace of Versailles, with its Hall of Mirrors. The Louvre, with the Venus de Milo. The Eiffel Tower. Cruising along the River Seine in our own private Bateaux Mouche. Dinner in an exclusive restaurant on the Avenue des Champs-Elysees. 

Then we move on again

The Côte d'Azur, on board the Fair Lady, our own private motor yacht.

Everything has been going so well, it’s pretty much been a perfect honeymoon. 

That is until I lose my temper with Ana – big time. And now, the next day, I'm not sure how to deal with the aftermath of the punishment I gave her, and I'm feeling so confused.

While we were sunbathing after swimming together yesterday, she asked how I felt about her going topless, like the other women on the beach. I told her in no uncertain terms that I’d be displeased, and I made it crystal clear that it’s not an option for my wife to show off her breasts to anyone but me, so she most certainly should not display them in public. For my eyes only. I wasn’t  very happy about her displaying so much of her body in just a tiny bikini, but as I’d bought it for her, and she was lying right next to me, I just about managed to tolerate it.

So I could not believe my eyes when I returned from swimming in the sea to find she was lying there, fucking topless, her wonderful breasts out in full view of everyone, including Taylor and the rest of the security detail, as well as any paparazzi that were no doubt hanging around, ready to send juicy pictures like this around the whole fucking world.

What the fuck?

I was furious with her for blatantly going against my wishes. Ana tried to make some feeble excuse about turning over in her sleep, but I don’t care how it happened - it shouldn’t have been possible.  I warned her not to challenge me, so what did she expect? I am furious that other men, including my fucking employees for Christ's sake, were able to feast their eyes on my very private personal property.

I’m already very aware that our French security detail, the Gallic twins Philippe and Gaston, appreciate my wife’s attributes. They seem unaware that I speak fluent French, and have overheard mutterings between them that obviously they think I won’t understand.

Le patron a une sacrée chance."

Yes, I know I am a lucky bastard.

Putain, je pense que le patron nous tuerait si quelque chose arrivait à sa femme.

At least they got that right. I would fucking kill them if they let anyone get close enough to hurt Ana.

I hated the thought that they, and Taylor and all the other men on the beach were getting to see my wife practically naked. 

I know what they were all thinking as they ogled the free show. They were all imagining fondling those gorgeous pert breasts and then fucking her. 

It made me almost uncontrollably wild as these thoughts went through my mind.

I tried to stay calm as we returned to the boat, but I knew I had to make my point by punishing her in some way. 

Anastasia had really overstepped the mark this time. Her behavior was totally unacceptable.  She had blatantly disobeyed my express wishes.

I spent some time considering the matter as I rode the Jet Ski back to the boat with Ana holding on tightly behind me. It was exhilarating, so I didn’t head straight back, but took some of my anger out by riding round on it for a while.  

By the time we reached the boat, I was calmer, because I had come up with a plan to punish her and vent my frustration over her disobedience, glad that I’d thought to pack my favorite handcuffs.  

I set my plan in motion. First I made sure Ana had a long drink. Then I told her not to pee, knowing that a full bladder helps to intensify an orgasm.  I made sure she had a safe word. Where the fuck she came up with the word popsicle I have no idea, but as long as it was something she could remember, it would do. I braided her hair in preparation, just as I always have when dealing out a punishment of any sort. I guess it’s part of the ritual for me.

And I can't deny that I was really turned on by the thought of punishing her. Punishing her with pleasure though. I planned to deal her an incredibly intense orgasm that she would have no control over whatsoever. I would be in control to torture her and drive her mad with all the extreme sensations, just as she had driven me mad with rage.

I used two pairs of handcuffs to restrain her wrists to her ankles, thereby ensuring she couldn’t move at all. And I knew that if she struggled, the harsh metal of the cuffs would bite spitefully into her skin. And I also knew that with what I had planned, she would be unable to stop herself pulling against them, especially as I blindfolded her to increase the intensity as well. But knowing all this didn’t stop me from using the cruel metal handcuffs.

Then I went ahead and fucked her extremely hard and very deeply until she screamed out as she came. I think she probably experienced her most intense orgasm to date, she virtually passed out afterwards and needed to sleep for a while to recover.

I didn’t originally plan to give her hickeys, but as I looked at her breasts while I fucked her, I felt an uncontrollable urge to mark her in some way. Mark her as mine. So I did, very thoroughly and very effectively.

When I looked at my handiwork afterwards, I thought maybe I had gone a little overboard, but it was too late, the damage was done. Ana was well and truly marked, and at least there was no way she would be exposing her breasts again to anyone but me, her husband, for the rest of our honeymoon.

I waited somewhat nervously for Ana's reaction when she woke up and headed to the bathroom, knowing she would see herself in the mirror, but even so I was taken aback at just how furious she was, as she impressively threw a hairbrush very accurately right at me, and then stormed off up onto the deck - at least she couldn’t get too far away from me.

 I wasn’t sure how to deal with Ana like this, and we ended up rowing – again. But eventually we managed to talk things through, and I think it helped us to understand each other a little better, although I think we both realize we still have so much to learn about each other. We ended up having great make up sex anyway, so every cloud….

But what is really freaking me out today is how I feel about the nasty red wheals the handcuffs have left on her wrists and ankles. Remorse sweeps through me. I've inflicted this damage on her. Me, her husband. I’ve hurt my wife, when I vowed to protect and cherish and look after her.

At the time I was so sure she deserved to be punished, that it was necessary, but now I feel upset and guilty, and I'm struggling to balance my conflicting feelings. 

Perhaps there is some truth in what Elena has always told me – I’m a sadist and I can't ignore my need to punish, so Ana is suffering as a result, despite how much I love her. 

As I think about everything from my past, I know I'm still many shades of fucked up, especially when Ana tries to get me to talk about my birth mother as well. 

So many contradictory thoughts and feelings. I don’t know how to sort it all out and I'm confused.

As we stroll through the little cobbled streets of Saint-Paul-De-Vence, browsing in art galleries and buying a couple of paintings for our new home, I try to ignore the disquiet I feel every time I catch sight of the damage I inflicted on her, but I can't.

 I end up buying Ana a pretty cuff bracelet that’s wide enough to cover up the mark on the wrist that’s not covered by her watch. I know it can't make up for hurting her, but at least it stops me from seeing my handiwork. 

Out of sight out of mind? It doesn't work like that, as you well know, Grey. You have inflicted damage on your most precious possession. The woman that you love more than anything, more than life itself. What kind of a depraved man does that make you? A pretty sick one. So much for cherishing your beloved wife.

I didn’t expect to feel like this when I planned her punishment yesterday. Guilty. Remorseful. I don’t want to feel like this ever again. So I know I could never cane or whip Ana, even if it was what she wanted and begged me to do it. 

This has been a harsh but important lesson for me.

 The Master of handing out punishments, doesn’t enjoy seeing evidence of his handiwork on his beloved wife, even though she keeps saying that she’s fine, and that she enjoyed the rough sex. 

I’ll have to talk all this through with Flynn as soon as we get back, to try and get it straight in my head. He always manages to lay things out for me, and set me in the right direction again. 

I'm just so scared of doing something that will push Anastasia away from me, because I know I couldn’t handle that. I have to make sure that never happens.

But all that is suddenly pushed to the back of my mind when I get a call on my cell as we are driving back to the yacht.

It’s Barney. There’s been a fire in the server room at Grey House. 

Suspected arson.

Our honeymoon has to be put on hold while I get to the bottom of what the fuck has happened back in Seattle.

I don’t own any of the Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters therein. They belong to E L James. I’m just borrowing them for fun and not for profit. Please refer to the Legal’s page for further details. This work is not to be copied or reproduced in any way without permission.