Et comme toujours, le début de l’histoire est disponible là. (Mine de rien on est à plus de la moitié)
Résumé des épisodes précédents : Parce que notre PPB est un crétin de première, il se retrouve oblige d’embarquer Ana au repas de famille chez ses parents. Comme si, alors qu’il ne lui a jamais présenté personne, sa mère allait perdre une occasion de rencontrer la seule copine qu’il lui ait jamais présentée ! Franchement, il croit encore au père noël ou bien ?
Aller, en avant pour la suite ! \o/
WARNING ! Y a du NSFW dans cette partie.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
(chap. 14 – part 1)
With the Rolling Stones’ “Shake Your Hips” blasting in my ears, I sprint down Fourth Avenue and turn right on Vine. It’s 6:45 in the morning, and it’s downhill all the way…to her apartment. I’m drawn; I just want to see where she lives.
It’s between control freak and stalker.
Non non tu es between rien du tout : tu ES un affreux stalker !
I chuckle to myself. I’m just running. It’s a free country.
Alors comment te dire… oui mais en fait, non.
The apartment block is a nondescript redbrick, with dark green painted window frames typical of the area. It’s in a good location near the intersection of Vine Street and Western. I imagine Ana curled up in her bed under her comforter and her cream-and-blue quilt.
Si on ne connaissait pas le personnage ça serait Presque chou. Presque.
[Il court, il est content, il est au coeur de la ville, et rien ne peut apaiser son esprit : aujourd’hui est le jour J !]
AFTER MY SHOWER I don jeans and a linen shirt, and from my chest of drawers I take out a hair tie. I slip it into my pocket and head into my study to e-mail Ana.
C’est même un stalker digital maintenant ôô
[Il lui envoie le code du garage et celui de l’ascenseur et lui indique un endroit où se garer. Il a une réponse un moment plus tard où Ana remercie pour le champagne et le ballon Charlie Tango qui est maintenant attaché à son lit, ce qui fait dire à notre ami dans le mail suivant qu’il a bien de la chance. Et comme elle ne répond pas, il va chasser son petit déjeuner.]
Taylor appears while I’m eating my breakfast.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey. Here are the Sunday papers.”
“Thanks. Anastasia is coming over at one today, and a Dr. Greene at one thirty.”
J’aime comment il dit ça : on croirait qu’il parle d’un paysan qui va crotter ses tapisserie -_-
“Very good, sir. Anything else on the agenda today?”
“Yes. Ana and I will be going to my parents’ for dinner this evening.”
Oups…
Taylor cocks his head, looking momentarily surprised, but he remembers himself and leaves the room. I return to my croissant and apricot jam.
Yeah. I’m taking her to meet my parents. What’s the big deal?
Hmmm, voyons voir… que tu les enferme dans ta sale de jeu et que tu leur fouettes l’arrière train et que ça s’arrête là, normalement ?
I CAN’T SETTLE. I’M restless. It’s 12:15 p.m. Time is crawling today. I give up on work and, grabbing the Sunday papers, wander back into the living room, where I switch on some music and read.
Voilà. Au lieu de travailler le dimanche comme un imbécile !
To my surprise there’s a photograph of Ana and me on the local news page, taken at the graduation ceremony at WSU. She looks lovely, if a little startled.
Elle est aux côtés d’un dangereux criminel : tu m’étonnes qu’elle soit secouée !
I hear the double doors open, and there she is…Her hair is loose, a little wild and sexy, and she’s wearing that purple dress she wore to dinner at The Heathman. She looks gorgeous.
Bravo, Miss Steele.
Rappelons, à toutes fins utiles, que la nana est une adepte du jean basket normalement… (non je n’aime pas le message qui est envoyé ici)
“Hmm, that dress.” My voice is full of admiration as I saunter toward her. “Welcome back, Miss Steele,” I whisper, and, holding her chin, I give her a tender kiss on the lips.
“Hi,” she says, her cheeks a little rosy.
“You’re on time. I like punctual. Come.” Taking her hand, I lead her to the sofa. “I wanted to show you something.” We both sit, and I pass her The Seattle Times. The photograph makes her laugh. Not quite the reaction I was expecting.
Et tu t’attendais à quoi, au juste ? -_-
“So I’m your ‘friend’ now,” she teases.
“So it would appear. And it’s in the newspaper, so it must be true.”
OMG !! IL A FAIT DE L’HUMOUR !!! \°o°/
I’m calmer now that she’s here—probably because she’s here. She hasn’t run. I tuck her soft, silky hair behind her ear; my fingers are itching to braid it.
Christian Grey, aspirant coiffeur !
“So, Anastasia, you have a much better idea of what I’m about since you were last here.”
“Yes.” Her gaze is intense…knowing.
“And yet you’ve returned.”
She nods, giving me a coy smile.
I can’t believe my luck.
I knew you were a freak, Ana.
Ou bien émotionnellement parlant c’est une gosse, qui n’a aucune confiance en elle, tu es son premier coup de cœur, et elle se couperait en douze pour toi juste dans l’espoir que tu la remarque un peu. Au choix.
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
Not at all? Okay. We’ll have to fix this. I drag my hand through my hair, and in as even a tone as I can manage I ask, “Are you hungry?”
“Not for food,” she teases.
Whoa. She might as well be addressing my groin.
Je crois qu’on n’a plus tellement besoin, mais au cas où : cette meuf est d’une timidité maladive à la base et est tout juste capable de soutenir le regard d’un proche sans rougir… -___- (la crédibilité est décédée)
Leaning forward, I press my lips to her ear and catch her intoxicating scent. “You are as eager as ever, Miss Steele—and just to let you in on a little secret, so am I. But Dr. Greene is due here shortly.”
I lean against the sofa. “I wish you’d eat.” It’s a plea.
“What can you tell me about Dr. Greene?” She deftly changes the subject.
Ce changement de sujet radical, en effet ^^;
“She’s the best ob-gyn in Seattle. What more can I say?”
Ou comment proclamer « je peux me torcher avec des billets tellement je suis riche » (oui il m’énerve toujours)
That’s what my doctor told my PA, anyway.
… donc en fait tu as même pas pris le temps de vérifier ! Ou faire vérifier ? Mais quel MUFFLE ! èé
“I thought I was seeing your doctor? And don’t tell me you’re really a woman, because I won’t believe you.”
I suppress my snort. “I think it’s more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don’t you?”
She gives me a quizzical look, but she nods. One more topic to tackle. “Anastasia, my mother would like you to come to dinner this evening. I believe Elliot is asking Kate, too. I don’t know how you feel about that. It will be odd for me to introduce you to my family.”
Donc en fait, c’est pas que je voudrais que tu dises que tu veux pas y aller mais ça m’arrangerait pas mal du coup… (on t’a grillé Christian)
She takes a second to process the information, then tosses her hair over her shoulder in that way she does before a fight. But she looks hurt, not argumentative. “Are you ashamed of me?” She sounds choked.
AH ! Et bim ! Sur ton nez monsieur ! ^w^
Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Of course not.” Of all the ridiculous things to say!
I glare at her, aggrieved. How could she think that about herself?
Ben tu lui laisses pas vraiment penser autre chose ?
“Why is it odd?” she asks.
“Because I’ve never done it before.” I sound irritable.
“Why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I’m not?”
Excellente question tiens. GO FOR IT NENUNU ! \o/
“I wasn’t aware that I was.” She’s calling me out. Again.
“Neither am I, usually,” she snaps.
Shit. Are we arguing?
Il semblerait. En tout cas ça en prend le chemin.
Taylor clears his throat. “Dr. Greene is here, sir,” he says.
“Show her up to Miss Steele’s room.”
Ana turns and looks at me and I hold out my hand to her.
“You’re not going to come as well, are you?” She’s horrified and amused at once.
Glauquitude over 9000 ôô
I laugh, and my body stirs. “I’d pay very good money to watch, believe me, Anastasia, but I don’t think the good doctor would approve.”
Glauquitude OVER 9 000 000 !!! ÔÔ
She places her hand in mine, and I pull her up into my arms and kiss her. Her mouth is soft and warm and inviting; my hands glide into her hair and I deepen the kiss. When I pull away, she looks dazed. I press my forehead to hers. “I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait to get you naked.” I can’t believe how much I missed you.
Au moins une partie précise de son anatomie en tout cas -_-
“Come on. I want to meet Dr. Greene, too.”
“You don’t know her?”
“No.”
I take Ana’s hand and we head upstairs, to what will be her bedroom.
Dr. Greene has one of those myopic stares; it’s penetrating and that makes me a tad uncomfortable. “Mr. Grey,” she says, shaking my outstretched hand with a firm, no-nonsense grip.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” I flash her my most benign smile.
“Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele,” she says politely to Ana, and I know she’s sizing up our relationship. I’m sure that she thinks I should be twiddling a mustache like a silent-movie villain.
A-t-elle tort ? Nous savons que non…
She turns and gives me a pointed “leave now” kind of look.
Okay.
“I’ll be downstairs,” I acquiesce. Though I would like to watch. I’m sure the good doctor’s reaction would be priceless if I made that request. I smirk at the thought and head downstairs to the living room.
Ce mec a tout de même un sérieux problème dans sa tête il faut l’avouer…
Now that Ana’s no longer with me, I’m restless again. As a distraction I set the counter with two placemats. It’s the second time I’ve done this, and the first time was for Ana, too.
You’re going soft, Grey.
OH MON DIEU tu as sorti deux sets de table TU DEVIENS UNE SERPILLERE ! Sérieux on croit rêver -__-
I select a Chablis to have with lunch—one of the few chardonnays I like —
Comment avoir l’ai raffiné aux US ? Connaître trois nom de pinard…
and when I’m done I take a seat on the sofa and browse through the sports section of the paper. Turning up the volume via the remote for my iPod, I hope the music will help me focus on stats from last night’s Mariners win against the Yankees, rather than what’s happening upstairs between Ana and Dr. Greene.
…. ce mec est un tordu. Un DANGEREUX tordu ôô
Eventually their footsteps echo in the corridor, and I look up as they enter. “Are you done?” I ask, and hit the remote for the iPod, to quiet the aria.
“Yes, Mr. Grey. Look after her; she’s a beautiful, bright young woman.”
On se croirait au salon de l’agriculture…
What has Ana told her?
Pleeeeiiiin de vilaines choses sur ton zizi qui (ne) parle (toujours pas) ^w^
“I fully intend to,” I say, with a quick what-the-fuck glance at Ana.
She bats her lashes, clueless. Good. It’s nothing she’s said, then.
“I’ll send you my bill,” says Dr. Greene. “Good day, and good luck to you, Ana.” The edges of her eyes crinkle with a warm smile as we shake hands.
Taylor escorts her toward the elevator and wisely closes the double doors to the foyer.
Voilà oui, il jette un voile pudique sur un situation gênante…
“How was that?” I ask, a little bemused by Dr. Greene’s words.
“Fine, thank you,” Ana answers. “She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks.”
What the hell? I gape at her in shock.
Ana’s earnest expression dissolves into one of taunting triumph. “Gotcha!”
Well played, Miss Steele.
En même temps, c’était couru d’avance ta réaction bonhomme…
My eyes narrow and her grin vanishes.
“Gotcha!”
« Ooooh c’est trop mignoooon, quand il fronce les sourcils elle se met à avoir peur ♥ » SAID ! NO ! ONE ! EVER !! >.<
I can’t help my smirk. Reaching around her waist, I pull her against me, my body hungering for her. “You are incorrigible, Miss Steele.” I weave my hands through her hair and kiss her hard, wondering if I should fuck her over the kitchen counter as a lesson.
*ajoute à la liste de course* s’acheter… un… sens… de… l’humour…
All in good time, Grey.
“As much as I’d like to take you here and now, you need to eat and so do I don’t want you passing out on me later,” I whisper.
“Is that all you want me for—my body?” she asks.
Oui. Enfin pour ton vagin, ton rectum, ta bouche et tes seins. Le reste il fait avec parce que tu n’es pas un meuble IKEA.
“That and your smart mouth.” I kiss her once more, thinking of what’s to come…My kiss deepens and desire hardens my body. I want this woman.
Before I fuck her on the floor, I release her, and we’re both breathless.
“What’s the music?” she says, her voice hoarse.
“Villa-Lobos, an aria from Bachianas Brasileiras. Good, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she says, gazing at the breakfast bar. I take the chicken Caesar out of the fridge, place it on the table between the placemats, and ask her if she’s okay with salad.
“Yes, fine, thank you.” She smiles.
From the wine fridge I take out the Chablis, feeling her eyes on me. I didn’t know I could be so domestic. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I was just watching the way you move.”
“And?” I ask, momentarily surprised.
“You’re very graceful,” she says quietly, her cheeks pink.
“Why, thank you, Miss Steele.” I sit beside her, unsure how to respond to her sweet compliment. Nobody’s called me graceful before.
En même temps tu parles pas beaucoup avec les gens en général, et les femmes en particulier…
“Chablis?”
“Please.”
J’adore comment la nana fait genre « oui oui je connais »…
“Help yourself to salad. Tell me—what method did you opt for?”
“Mini pill,” she says.
“And will you remember to take it regularly, at the right time, every day?”
A blush steals across her surprised face. “I’m sure you’ll remind me,” she says with a hint of sarcasm, which I choose to ignore.
You should have had the shot.
Sauf que c’est encore SON corps et qu’elle fait CE QU’ELLE VEUT ! rha mais ! èé
“I’ll put an alarm on my calendar. Eat.”
She takes a bite, then another…and another. She’s eating!
Oui, ça lui arrive… mais en effet c’est pas courant…
“So I can put chicken Caesar on the list for Mrs. Jones?” I ask.
“I thought I’d be doing the cooking.”
“Yes. You will.”
She finishes before I do. She must have been starving.
“Eager as ever, Miss Steele?”
“Yes,” she says, giving me a demure look from beneath her lashes.
Fuck. There it is.
The attraction.
As if under her spell, I get up and tug her into my arms.
“Do you want to do this?” I whisper, inwardly begging her to say yes.
“I haven’t signed anything.”
“I know—but I’m breaking all the rules these days.”
“Are you going to hit me?”
C’est juste LE truc qui lui donne des frissons dans son slip donc, oui, y a fort à parier -__-
“Yes, but it won’t be to hurt you. I don’t want to punish you right now. If you’d caught me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story.”
Her face turns to shock.
Oh, baby. “Don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise, Anastasia. One of the reasons people like me to do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It’s very simple. You don’t, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that.”
I wrap my arms around her, holding her against my hardening erection.
“Did you reach any conclusions?” she whispers.
“No, and right now, I just want to tie you up and fuck you senseless. Are you ready for that?”
A-t-elle le choix de toute façon ?
Her expression is darker, sensual, and full of carnal curiosity. “Yes,” she says, the word as soft as a sigh.
Thank fuck.
“Good. Come.” I lead her upstairs and into my playroom. My safe place. Where I can do what I wish with her. I close my eyes, briefly savoring the exhilaration.
Have I ever been this excited?
A force d’aller dans l’exponentiel, on va finir par penser que tu as quelques origines Marseillaise Christian…
Pushing the door shut behind us, I release her hand and study her. Her lips are parted as she inhales; her breathing is quick and shallow. Her eyes are wide. Ready. Waiting.
“When you’re in here, you are completely mine. To do with as I see fit. Do you understand?”
Her tongue quickly licks her upper lip, and she nods.
Good girl.
“Take your shoes off.”
She swallows and proceeds to take off her high-heeled sandals.
Juste comme ça on rappelle qu’il y a 10 jours la nana avait rien d’autre que des basket… au revoir coherence ! … Ah ! Mais suis-je bête ? Tu n’as jamais été présente !
I pick them up and put them neatly by the door.
“Good. Don’t hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I’m going to peel you out of this dress. Something I’ve wanted to do for a few days, if I recall.”
I pause, checking that she’s still with me.
Pourquoi, t’as mis du GHB dans sa salade ou quoi ???
“I want you to be comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it. It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” My tone is sharper.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you mean that?” I want you unashamed, Ana.
“Yes, Sir.”
Evidemment voyons, suffit qu’on l’ordonne à une personne timide et/ou pudique pour qu’elle ne le soie plus…
“Good. Lift your arms up over your head.”
Slowly she raises her arms in the air. I grab the hem and gently pull the dress up her body, revealing it inch by inch, for my eyes only. When it’s off I stand back so I can have my fill of her.
Legs, thighs, belly, ass, tits, shoulders, face, mouth…she’s perfect. Folding her dress, I place it on the toy chest. Reaching up, I tug her chin. “You’re biting your lip. You know what that does to me,” I scold. “Turn around.”
She complies and turns to face the door. I unfasten her bra and pull the straps down her arms, skimming her skin with my fingertips as I do and feeling her tremble beneath my touch. I take off her bra and toss it on top of her dress. I stand close, not quite touching her, listening to her rapid breathing and sensing the warmth radiating off her skin. She’s excited
… ou terrifiée. On n’est pas sûr à 100%
and she’s not the only one. I gather her hair in both of my hands so it falls down her back. It’s oh-so-silky to touch. I wind it around one hand and tug, angling her head to one side and exposing her neck to my mouth.
I run my nose from her ear to her shoulder and back again, inhaling her heavenly scent.
Fuck, she smells good.
Assez pour lui déguster le foie avec un délicieux Chianti ou… ?
“You smell as divine as ever, Anastasia.” I place a kiss beneath her ear just above her pulse.
She moans.
“Quiet. Don’t make a sound.”
From my jeans pocket I grab the hair tie, and taking her hair in my hands, I braid it, slowly, enjoying the pull and twist against her beautiful, flawless back. Deftly I fasten the end with the hair tie and give it a quick tug, forcing her to step back and press her body into mine. “I like your hair braided in here,” I whisper. “Turn around.”
Ou l’on apprend, sous le choc, qu’en fait tout ce qu’il fallait à Christian pour être vraiment heureux, c’était des poupées à coiffer… ôô
She does so, immediately.
“When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress. Just in your panties. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
She’s learning fast. Her arms are by her sides, her eyes trained on mine. Waiting.
“When I tell you to come in here, I expect you to kneel over there.” I point to the corner of the room beside the door. “Do it now.”
She blinks a couple of times, but before I have to tell her again, she turns and kneels, facing me and the room.
I give her permission to sit back on her heels and she obliges. “Place your hands and forearms flat on your thighs. Good. Now part your knees. Wider.” I want to see you, baby. “Wider.” See your sex.
… sa petite culotte est transparente ? Oo
“Perfect. Look down at the floor.”
Don’t look at me or the room. You can sit there and let your thoughts run wild while you imagine what I’m going to do to you.
Je sais que ça fait partie du jeu mais franchement ? Avec ce mec c’est malsain. TOUT EST MALSAIN CHEZ LUI ARG ! >.<
I walk over to her, and I’m pleased that she keeps her head bowed.
Reaching down, I tug her braid, tilting her head so that our eyes meet. “Will you remember this position, Anastasia?”
Ok c’est un nénuphar mais tout de même elle a un poil plus de mémoire qu’un poisson rouge. D’ailler c’est très intelligent les caniches ! (non je ne me lasse pas de cette image)
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Stay here, don’t move.”
Walking past her, I open the door and for a moment look back at her. Her head is bowed; her eyes stay fixed on the floor.
What a welcome sight. Good girl.
I want to run, but I contain my eagerness and walk purposefully downstairs to my bedroom.
Maintain some fucking dignity, Grey.
Voilà. Que les murs ne voient pas que t’as grave envie d’aller la fesser avant de la ramoner comme une vieille cheminée.
In my closet I strip off all my clothes and from a drawer pull out my favorite jeans. My DJs. Dom jeans.
I slip them on and fasten all the buttons except the top one. From the same drawer I retrieve the new riding crop and a gray waffle robe. As I leave I grab a few condoms and stuff them into my pocket.
Here goes.
Showtime, Grey.
When I get back she’s in the same position: her head bowed, her braid hanging down her back, her hands on her knees. I close the door and hang the robe on its hook. I walk past her. “Good girl, Anastasia. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up.”
She stands, keeping her head down.
“You may look at me.”
Eager blue eyes peek up.
“I’m going to chain you now, Anastasia. Give me your right hand.” I hold out mine and she places her hand in it. Without taking my eyes off hers I turn her hand palm up, and from behind my back produce the riding crop. I quickly flick the end across her palm. She startles and cups her hand, blinking at me in surprise.
“How does that feel?” I ask.
Désagréable je dirais. Surtout quand tu viens là en te jetant dans une parfait trou noir de l’inconnu (sans mauvais jeu de mots)
Her breathing accelerates, and she glances at me before looking back at her palm.
“Answer me.”
“Okay.” Her brows knit together.
“Don’t frown,” I warn.
ET RESPIRER ELLE A LE DROIT DU SCNOCK ? èé
“Did that hurt?”
“No.”
“This is not going to hurt. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Her voice is a little shaky.
Comment j’aurais pas confiance moi… ôô (mais en même temps ça ferait longtemps que j’aurais fui aussi… )
“I mean it,” I stress, and I show her the crop. Brown plaited leather. See? I listen.
Oui, quand ça arrange ta quéquette t’es super attentif en effet.
Her eyes meet mine, astonished. My lips twitch in amusement.
“We aim to please, Miss Steele. Come.”
I lead her to the middle of the room, beneath the restraining system. “This grid is designed so the shackles move across the grid.” She stares up at the intricate system, then back at me.
“We’re going to start here, but I want to fuck you standing up. So we’ll end up by the wall over there.” I point to the Saint Andrew’s cross. “Put your hands above your head.”
She does, immediately. Taking the leather cuffs that hang on the grid, I fasten one to each of her wrists in turn. I’m methodical, but she’s distracting. Being this close to her, sensing her excitement, her anxiety, touching her. I find it hard to concentrate. Once she’s cuffed I step back and take a deep breath, relieved.
Finally I’ve got you where I want you, Ana Steele.
C’est maintenant qu’il faut mettre la table ? Et déboucher le Chianti ?
Slowly I walk around her, admiring the view. Could she look hotter? “You look mighty fine trussed up like this, Miss Steele. And your smart mouth quiet for now. I like that.”
J’aime bien cette dichotomie : le mec est attiré parce qu’elle lui répond, mais il adore pouvoir lui clouer le bec. C’est pas du tout source possible de trucs vraiment pas glop après. Duuu tout…
I stop, facing her, curl my fingers into her panties, and oh so slowly drag them down her long legs until I’m kneeling at her feet.
Worshipping her. She’s glorious.
With my eyes locked on hers, I take her panties, crush them to my nose, and inhale deeply. Her mouth pops open and her eyes widen in amused shock.
Voilà. Je vous rappelle toutes les fois où elle nous l’a joué super séductrice/apprentice porn star… -___-« »
Yes. I smirk. Perfect reaction.
I slip the panties into the back pocket of my jeans and stand, considering my next move. Holding out the crop, I run it over her belly and gently circle her navel with the keeper…the leather tongue. She sucks in her breath and tremors at the touch.
This will be good, Ana. Trust me.
[Il commence à la caresser avec sa cravache et lui donne de petits coups de temps en temps sans prévenir. Il lui demande à un moment si c’est bon, forcément elle gémit que oui mais…sans le « monsieur » ce qui lui vaut un autre coup sur les fesses et elle corrige. Quand il fait la même sur son clitoris, forcément, elle supplie]
“Quiet,” I command, and reprimand her with a harder flick across her backside.
I skim the leather tongue down through her pubic hair, against her vulva to her vagina.
…. SON VAGIN N’EST PAS ACCESSIBLE COMME CA ! (oui ce genre de faute majeure d’anatomie me crispe profondément) (alors que ça avait bien commence juste avant)
The brown leather is glistening with her arousal when I pull it back. “See how wet you are for this, Anastasia. Open your eyes and your mouth.”
She’s breathing hard, but she parts her lips and stares at me, her eyes dazed and lost in the carnality of the moment. And I slip the keeper into her mouth. “See how you taste. Suck. Suck hard, baby.”
Her lips close around the tip and it’s like they’re around my dick.
Fuck.
Mais oui, tu vas y venir, du calme.
She’s so fucking hot and I can’t resist her.
Easing the crop from her mouth, I wrap my arms around her. She opens her mouth for me as I kiss her, my tongue exploring her, reveling in the taste of her lust.
“Oh, baby, you taste mighty fine,” I whisper. “Shall I make you come?”
“Please,” she pleads.
One flick of my wrist and the crop smacks her behind. “Please, what?”
“Please, Sir,” she whimpers.
Good girl.
… Vu le nombre de fois où ces mots sont notés je vais finir par croire qu’elle a fait un camp nano avec ce truc, que son objectif était trop haut, et qu’elle a eu besoin de meubler…
I step back. “With this?” I ask, holding up the crop so she can see it.
“Yes, Sir,” she says, surprising me.
“Are you sure?” I can barely believe my luck.
“Yes, please, Sir.”
Oh, Ana. You fucking goddess.
AH NON !! Ah non PITIE ! La inner goddess j’en ai bouffé pendant trois tome, qu’on la laisse où elle est ! >.<
“Close your eyes.”
She does as she’s told. And with infinite care and not a little gratitude, I rain quick, stinging licks over her belly once more. Soon she’s panting again, her arousal heightened. Moving south, I gently flick the leather tongue over her clitoris. Again. And again. And again.
She pulls at her restraints, moaning and moaning. Then she’s quiet and I know she’s close.
Christian, ce devin de l’orgasme féminin…
Suddenly she throws her head back and mouth open and she screams her orgasm as it shudders through her entire body. Instantly I drop the crop and grab her, supporting her as her body dissolves. She sags against me.
Même les innocents lady des Harlequins historiques ne prennent pas un leur pied dans de telles proportions…
Oh. We’re not done, Ana.
With my hands under her thighs, I lift her trembling body and carry her, still shackled to the grid, toward the Saint Andrew’s cross. There I release her, holding her upright, pinned between the cross and my shoulders. I tug my jeans, undoing all the buttons, and freeing my cock. Yanking a condom from my pocket, I rip the foil packet with my teeth
Ce n’est pas DU TOUT prudent de faire ça avec les dents. Il faut pas. Jamais.
and with one hand roll it over my erection.
… il doit y avoir moyen de monter un bon numéro de cirque entre ces deux-là… ôô
Gently I pick her up again and whisper, “Lift your legs, baby, wrap them around me.” Supporting her back against the wood, I help her wrap her legs around my hips, her elbows resting on my shoulders.
You are mine, baby.
With one thrust I’m inside her.
Fuck. She’s exquisite.
Après « Lonely planet », après « Le Guide du Routard », « Le guide des vagins », par Christiant Grey ! Bientôt dans toutes les bonnes librairies !
I take a moment to savor her. Then I start to move, relishing each thrust. Feeling her, on and on, my own breathing labored as I gasp for air and lose myself in this beautiful woman. My mouth is open at her neck, tasting her.
Moi je vous dis, le canibalisme n’est pas loin…
Her scent fills my nostrils, fills me. Ana. Ana. Ana. I don’t want to stop.
Suddenly she tenses, and her body convulses around me.
Yes. Again. And I let go. Filling her. Holding her. Revering her.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
She’s so beautiful. And sweet hell, was that mind-blowing.
I pull out of her, and as she collapses against me I quickly unbuckle her wrists from the grid and support her as we both sink to the floor. I cradle her between my legs, wrapping my arms around her, and she sags against me, her eyes closed, breathing hard.
“Well done, baby. Did that hurt?”
“No.” Her voice is barely audible.
“Did you expect it to?” I ask, and I push stray strands of her hair off her face so I can see her better.
“Yes.”
“You see? Most of your fear is in your head, Anastasia.”
Eeeuuuh… oui, non, mais faut peut-être pas pousser non plus là quand même monsieur…
I caress her face. “Would you do it again?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer immediately, and I think she’s fallen asleep.
“Yes,” she whispers a moment later.
Thank you, sweet Lord.
C’est sûr que si elle t’avait dit « non » t’aurais bien eu l’air d’un crétin… QUE J’AURAIS AIME CA ! \*.*/
I wrap her in my arms. “Good. So would I.” Again and again. Tenderly I kiss the top of her head and inhale. She smells of Ana and sweat and sex. “And I haven’t finished with you yet,” I assert. I’m so proud of her. She did She did everything I wanted.
Mais encore une fois : avait-elle le choix ? Pour de vrai ? On connait tou.te.s la réponse ! >.<
She’s everything I want.
And suddenly I’m overwhelmed by an unfamiliar emotion that rocks through me, slicing through sinew and bone, leaving unease and fear in its wake.
She turns her head and starts to nuzzle my chest.
The darkness swells, startling and familiar, replacing my unease with a sense of dread. Every muscle in my body tenses. Ana blinks up at me with clear, unflinching eyes as I struggle to control my fear.
“Don’t,” I whisper. Please.
She leans back and peers at my chest.
Get control, Grey.
“Kneel by the door,” I order, uncurling around her.
Go. Don’t touch me.
Vilain toutou qui a fait pipi sur le tapis très cher, villain !! èé
Shakily she gets to her feet and stumbles over to the door, where she resumes her kneeling position.
I take a deep, centering breath.
What are you doing to me, Ana Steele?
Bah en fait… rien de special. Elle flotte. C’t’un nenuphar quoi…
I stand and stretch, calmer now.
As she kneels by the door, she looks every bit the ideal submissive. Her eyes are glazed; she’s tired. I’m sure she’s coming down from the adrenaline high. Her eyelids droop.
Alors comment dire… Techniquement ça devrait être l’inverse mais baste, on ne va pas chipoter, on n’est plus à ça prêt. La biologie a fichu le camp avec le reste depuis un moment déjà…
Oh, this will never do. You want her as a submissive, Grey. Show her what that means.
From my drawer of toys I fish out one of the cable ties I bought from Clayton’s, and a pair of scissors. “Boring you, am I, Miss Steele?” I ask, masking my sympathy. She startles awake and regards me guiltily. “Stand up,” I order.
Slowly she gets to her feet.
“You’re shattered, aren’t you?”
She nods with a bashful smile.
Oh, baby, you’ve done so well.
C’est affreux j’ai ce caniche imprimé au fond de la rétine maintenant…
“Stamina, Miss Steele. I haven’t had my fill of you yet. Hold out your hands in front, as if you’re praying.”
A crease mars her forehead for a moment, but she presses her palms together and holds up her hands. I fasten the cable tie around her wrists. Her eyes flash to mine with recognition.
“Look familiar?” I give her a smile and run my finger around the plastic, checking that there’s enough room and it’s not too tight.
De toute façon serré ou pas, si elle tire dessus ça finira par mordre les chairs. Donc laisser des marques.
“I have scissors here.” I bring them into her view. “I can cut you out of this in a moment.” She looks reassured.
Franchement ? Y a pas de quoi… ôô
“Come.” Taking her clasped hands, I lead her to the far corner of the four-poster bed. “I want more—much, much more,” I whisper in her ear as she stares down at the bed. “But I’ll make this quick. You’re tired. Hold on to the post.”
Halting, she grasps the wooden pillar.
“Lower,” I order. She moves her hands down to the base until she’s bending over. “Good. Don’t let go. If you do, I’ll spank you. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she says.
“Good.” I grab her hips and lift her toward me so she’s properly positioned, her beautiful behind in the air and at my disposal. “Don’t let go, Anastasia,” I warn her. “I’m going to fuck you hard from behind. Hold the post to support your weight. Understand?”
“Yes.”
I smack her hard across her backside.
“Yes, Sir,” she says immediately.
“Part your legs.” I push my right foot against hers, widening her stance. “That’s better. After this, I’ll let you sleep.”
Je ne sais pas à quoi il carbure, mais c’est chimique et très mauvais pour la tension, c’est une certitude.
Her back is a perfect curve, each vertebra outlined from her nape to her fine, fine ass.
… j’ai mal pour elle >.<
I trace the line with my fingers. “You have such beautiful skin, Anastasia,” I say to myself. Bending over her, I follow the path my fingers have taken with tender kisses down her spine.
… et lui est diablement souple ! Oo
As I do, I palm her breasts, trapping her nipples between my fingers, and tug. She writhes beneath me, and I plant a soft kiss at her waist, then suck and gently nip her skin while working her nipples.
She whimpers. I stop and stand back to admire the view, growing harder just looking at her. Reaching for a second condom from my pocket, I quickly kick my jeans off and open the foil packet. Using both hands, I wrap it around my cock.
… il avait enlevé le premier ??? (oui c’est un vraie question) (parce que je n’en ai pas le souvenir…)
I’d like to claim her ass. Now. But it’s too soon for that.
Et puis surtout… TU NE LUI AS PAS DEMANDE, PRIAPIQUE EN GOGUETTE ?? èé (oui je sais, je crie encore) (pardon)
“You have such a captivating, sexy ass. What I’d like to do to it.”
L’assaisonner au gingembre, on sait.
I stroke my hands over each cheek, fondling her, then slide two fingers inside her, stretching her.
She whimpers again.
She’s ready.
“So wet. You never disappoint, Miss Steele. Hold tight. This is going to be quick, baby.”
Clutching her hips, I position myself at the entrance of her vagina, then reach up, grab her braid, wind it around my wrist, and hold it tightly. With one hand on my cock and the other around her hair, I slide into her.
She. Is. So. Fucking. Sweet.
Slowly I slide out of her, then grip her hip with my free hand and tighten my hold on her hair.
Submissive.
En même temps… t’es content non maintenant ? -_-
I slam into her, forcing her forward with a cry.
“Hold on, Anastasia!” I remind her. If she doesn’t she might get hurt.
Breathless, she pushes back against me, bracing her legs.
Good girl.
CE CANICHE ET SA BABALLE VONT ME POURSUIVRE ! T.T pour tout le reste du bouquin
Then I start pounding into her, eliciting small, strangled cries from her as she clings to the post. But she doesn’t back down. She pushes back.
Bravo, Ana.
Je ne sais pas si c’est lui, ou si c’est moi, mais je trouve cette façon de voir le sexe comme une forme de performance dans laquelle il faut exceller assez malsaine…
And then I feel it. Slowly. Her insides curling around me. Losing control, I slam into her, and still. “Come on, Ana, give it to me,” I growl, as I come, hard, her release prolonging mine as I hold her up.
Gathering her in my arms, I lower us to the floor with Ana on top of me, both of us facing the ceiling. She’s utterly relaxed, exhausted no doubt; her weight a welcome comfort. I stare up at the karabiners, wondering if she’ll ever let me suspend her.
Probably not.
And I don’t care.
Our first time together in here, and she’s been a dream.
En même temps tu lui as pas tapé dessus donc…
I kiss her ear. “Hold up your hands.” My voice is husky. Slowly, she raises them as if they’re weighted with concrete, and I slide the scissors beneath the cable tie.
“I declare this Ana open.”
Doit-on parler de la glauquitude de cette phrase, étant donné les délires du monsieur sur la virginité tout ça tout ça ou bien… ?
I murmur, and snip, freeing her. She giggles, her body juddering against mine. It’s a strange and not unwelcome feeling that makes me grin.
“That is such a lovely sound,” I whisper as she rubs her wrists. I sit up so that she’s in my lap.
I love making her laugh. She doesn’t laugh enough.
“That’s my fault,” I admit to myself as I rub some life back into her shoulders and arms.
Il était ridicule en pseudo méchant ténébreux mais alors c’est encore pire.
She turns her face to me with a weary, searching look.
“That you don’t giggle more often,” I clarify.
“I’m not a great giggler,” she says, and yawns.
“Oh, but when it happens, ’tis a wonder and joy to behold.”
“Very flowery, Mr. Grey,” she says, teasing me.
I smile. “I’d say you’re thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep.”
Et bien sûr, monsieur lui, n’a besoin de rien. Tant de ridicule me sidère -__-
“That wasn’t flowery at all,” she scoffs, scolding me.
Lifting her off my lap so I can stand up, I reach for my jeans and slip them on. “Don’t want to frighten Taylor, or Mrs. Jones, for that matter.”
It wouldn’t be the first time.
On préfère ne pas savoir tout ce que ces deux pauvres innocents ont pu voir >.<
Ana sits in a sleepy daze on the floor. I clasp her upper arms, help her to her feet, and take her to the door. From the hook on the back of the door I grab the gray robe and dress her. She’s no help whatsoever; she really is exhausted.
“Bed,” I announce, kissing her quickly.
An alarmed expression crosses her drowsy face.
“For sleep,” I reassure her. And bending down, I gather her in my arms, cradle her against my chest, and carry her to the sub’s room. There I pull back the comforter and lay her down, and in a moment of weakness climb into the bed beside her. Covering us both with the duvet, I embrace her.
I’ll just hold her until she’s asleep.
De la même façon que je ne prends « que » ce tout petit bout de fromage avec mon pain, c’est évident !
“Sleep now, gorgeous girl.” I kiss her hair feeling utterly sated…and grateful. We did it. This sweet, innocent woman let me loose on her.
… ou j’ai un souci, ou il se réjouit pour pas grand-chose. Mais un début de syndrome de Stockholm de ma part n’est pas à exclure ôô
And I think she enjoyed it. I know I did…more than ever before.
[On a droit a un rêve de quand il était petit et que sa mère cuisinait des tartes]
I wake suddenly with a sweet scent invading my mind. It’s Ana. She’s fast asleep beside me. I lie back and stare at the ceiling.
When have I ever slept in this room?
Never.
The thought is unnerving, and for some unfathomable reason it makes me uneasy.
What’s going on, Grey?
Ce délire du « je fais des choses pour elle que je n’avais fait pour aucune autre avant sans y être forcé et… j’aime ça ? QUELLE EST CETTE DIABLERIE ? » n’était déjà pas credible au début mais là c’est encore pire.
I sit up carefully, not wanting to disturb her, and stare down at her sleeping form. I know what it is—I’m unsettled because I’m in here with her. I climb out of bed, leaving her to sleep, and head back to the playroom. There I collect the used cable tie and condoms and stash them in my pocket, where I find Ana’s panties. With the crop, her clothes, and her shoes in hand, I leave and lock the door. Back in her room, I hang her dress on the closet door, place her shoes beneath the chair, and lay her bra on top. I take her panties from my pocket—and a wicked idea comes to mind.
« wicked ». Il est sérieux là ? IL A UN DONJON MEDIEVAL DANS SON LOFT ! >.<
I head for my bathroom. I need a shower before we head to dinner with my family. I’ll let Ana sleep awhile longer.
The piping-hot water cascades over me, washing away all the anxiety and unease that I’d felt earlier. As first times go, that was not bad, for either of And I’d thought that a relationship with Ana was impossible, but now the future now seems full of possibility. I make a mental note to call Caroline Acton in the morning to dress my girl.
Il aurait dit « custimiser ma poupée sexuelle », « reprindre ma voiture », ou encore « habiller mon caniche » ça ne m’aurait même pas fait hausser un sourcil…
After a productive hour in my study, catching up on my reading for work, I decide that Ana has had enough sleep. It’s dusk outside, and we have to leave in forty-five minutes for dinner at my parents’. It’s been easier to concentrate on my work, knowing that she’s upstairs in her bedroom.
Weird.
Non : t’as juste tiré ton coup donc t’es détendu. Simple.
Well, I know she’s safe up there.
From the refrigerator I take a carton of cranberry juice and a bottle of sparkling water. I mix them in a glass and head upstairs.
She’s still fast asleep, curled up where I left her. I don’t think she’s moved at all. Her lips are parted as she breathes softly. Her hair is tousled, tendrils escaping from her braid. I sit on the edge of the bed beside her, lean down, and kiss her temple. She mumbles a protest in her sleep.
“Anastasia, wake up.” My voice is gentle as I coax her awake.
“No,” she grumbles, hugging her pillow.
“We have to leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents’.”
Her eyes flicker open and focus on me.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Get up.” I kiss her temple again. “I’ve brought you a drink. I’ll be downstairs. Don’t go back to sleep, or you’ll be in trouble,” I warn as she stretches her arms. I kiss her once more and with a glance at the chair, where she won’t find her panties, I saunter back downstairs, unable to suppress my grin.
Playtime, Grey.
Mais ! MAIS !!!
While I’m waiting for Miss Steele I press a button on the iPod remote and the music springs to life on random shuffle. Restless, I wander over to the balcony doors and stare out at the early evening sky, listening to Talking Heads’ “And She Was.”
Taylor enters. “Mr. Grey. Shall I bring the car around?”
“Give us five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, and disappears toward the service elevator.
Ana appears a few minutes later at the entrance to the living room. She looks luminous, stunning even…and amused. What’s she going to say about her missing panties?
Mais sérieux, T’AS QUEL AGE ???
“Hi,” she says with a cryptic smile.
“Hi. How are you feeling?”
Her smile broadens. “Good, thanks. You?” She feigns nonchalance.
“I feel mighty fine, Miss Steele.” The suspense is tantalizing and I hope my anticipation is not written all over my face.
“Frank? I never figured you for a Sinatra fan,” she says, cocking her head and giving me a curious look, as the rich tones of “Witchcraft” fill the room.
“Eclectic taste, Miss Steele.” I step toward her until I’m standing right in front of her. Will she crack? I’m searching for an answer in her glittering blue eyes.
Ask me for your panties, baby.
I caress her cheek with my fingertips. She leans her face into my touch —and I’m completely seduced—by her sweet gesture, by her teasing expression, and by the music. I want her in my arms.
“Dance with me,” I whisper, as I remove the remote from my pocket and turn up the volume until Frank’s crooning surrounds us. She gives me her hand. I circle her waist and pull her beautiful body against mine, and we start a slow, simple fox-trot. She grasps my shoulder, but I’m prepared for her touch, and together we whirl across the floor, her radiant face lighting up the room…and me. She falls into step with my lead, and when the song comes to an end, she’s giddy and breathless.
And so am I.
“There’s no nicer witch than you.” I plant a chaste kiss on her lips.
Qui a un violon dans l’assistance ?
“Well, that’s brought some color to your cheeks. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet my parents?”
“You’re welcome, and yes, I can’t wait to meet them,” she replies, looking flushed and lovely.
“Do you have everything you need?”
“Oh yes,” she says with easy confidence.
“Are you sure?”
She nods, her lips carved in a smirk.
God, she has guts.
I grin. “Okay.” I can’t hide my delight. “If that’s the way you want to play it, Miss Steele.” I grab my jacket and we head to the elevator.
She never fails to surprise, impress, and disarm me. Now I will have to sit through dinner with my parents, knowing my girl is not wearing any underwear. In fact, I’m traveling down in this elevator right now, knowing she’s naked beneath her skirt.
She’s turned the tables on you, Grey.
SHE’S QUIET AS TAYLOR drives us north on I-5. I catch a glimpse of Union Lake; the moon disappears behind a cloud, and the water darkens, like my mood. Why am I taking her to see my parents? If they meet her, they’ll have certain expectations. And so will Ana. And I’m not sure if the relationship I want with Ana will live up to those expectations.
Sauf que c’est un peu trop tard pour y penser là du coup
And to make matters worse, I put all this in motion when I insisted she meet Grace. I’m the only one to blame. Me, and the fact that Elliot is fucking her roommate.
Who am I kidding? If I didn’t want her to meet my folks, she wouldn’t be here. I just wish I wasn’t so anxious about it.
Yeah. That’s the problem.
“Where did you learn to dance?” she asks, interrupting my chain of thoughts.
Oh, Ana. She’s not going to want me to go there.
Sans doute que non mais en même temps, vu le truc, nous non plus…
“Christian, hold me. There. Properly. Right. One step. Two. Good. Keep in time to the music. Sinatra is perfect for the fox-trot.” Elena is in her element.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
J’espère que l’on avoir « cette » scène dans ce bouquin. Il se passe un truc dans un des trois premier volume que l’on rate parce que Ana quitte la pièce mais lui, il y reste. Et j’ai franchement hate, j’avoue ôô (oui, son côté stalker déteint sur ma laine, je le crains \°o°/)
“Do you really want to know?” I answer.
“Yes,” she replies, but her tone says otherwise.
You asked.
Cette facilité à se dédouaner de ses propres conneries a quelque chose de fascinant…
I sigh in the darkness beside her. “Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing.”
“She must have been a good teacher.” Her whisper is tinged with regret and reluctant admiration.
“She was.”
Mon dieu que c’est glauque…
“That’s right. Again. One. Two. Three. Four. Baby, you’ve got this.”
Elena and I glide across her basement.
“Again.” She laughs, her head thrown back, and she looks like a woman half her age.
… et ça ne va pas en s’améliorant >.<
Ana nods and studies the landscape, no doubt concocting some theory about Elena. Or maybe she’s thinking about meeting my parents. I wish I knew. Perhaps she’s nervous. Like me. I’ve never taken a girl home.
Il faut bien une première à tout en même temps…
Va-t-on rencontrer enfin Mme Robinson ? La rencontre avec la belle famille va-t-elle se déroulersans attentat à la pudeur ? PPB va-t-il se remettre du fait que sous sa robe, Anna n’a pas de culotte ? On le saura (j’espère) dans la suite du chapitre ! \o/
Formulaire A38 