Grey : 50 nuances de zizi qui parle (28)

TOUT DE MÊME !! On ne pouvais PAS passer la Saint Valentin SANS zizi qui parle ! \o/

Donc tous les chapitres précédents sont ici. Au cas où, si ça peut servir…

Résumé des épisodes précédents : notre ami au priapisme galopant a eu sa première séance dans sa « salle de jeu » avec Ana et il est tout content. Tellement content qu’il ne se rend pas compte qu’il n’a rien fait de terrible mais il est content ! (pour une fois, ça change). Nous les avons laissé alors qu’ils prenaient la voiture pour aller dîner chez les parents de monsieur.

En avant pour la suite !
WARNING !! Encore du NSFW dans ce chapitre (forcément…)

Sunday, May 29, 2011
(chap. 14 – part 2)

When Ana starts fidgeting I sense something is worrying her. Is she concerned about what we did today?
“Don’t,” I say, my voice softer than I intend.
FICHTRE ! Ben oui alors mince, tu ne lui as pas parlé comme à un chien dis donc ! C’est trop bête ! -__-

She turns to look at me, her expression unreadable in the dark. “Don’t what?”
“Overthink things, Anastasia.” Whatever you’re thinking about. I reach over, take her hand, and kiss her knuckles. “I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you.”
Voilà. Aucun dialogue, aucun mot échangé, juste des ordres donné, et ses couilles vidées. Ca laisse rêveur en effet…

I get a brief flash of white teeth and a timid smile.
“Why did you use a cable tie?” she asks.
Questions about this afternoon; this is good. “It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s something different for you to feel and experience. I know they’re quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device.” My voice is dry as I try to inject a little humor back into our conversation. “Very effective at keeping you in your place.”
Cette phrase fait tellement grincer mes dents… >.<

Her eyes dart toward Taylor in the front seat.
Sweetheart, don’t worry about Taylor. He knows exactly what’s going on, and he’s done this for four years.
Le pauvre… Il a dû en voir tellement des trucs glauques éè

“All part of my world, Anastasia.” I give her hand a reassuring squeeze before I release it. Ana returns to staring out of the window; we’re surrounded by water as we cross Lake Washington on the 520 bridge, my favorite part of this journey. She draws up her feet and, curled on the seat, coils her arms around her legs.
Something is up.
Oui : ses jambes ! \o/ (comment ça j’ai pas compris ?)

When she glances at me, I ask, “Penny for your thoughts?”
She sighs.
Shit. “That bad, huh?”
J’aime voir flipper comme ça, ça me met du baume sur le cœur ^w^

“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” she says.
I smirk, relieved to hear this, and glad she doesn’t know what’s really on my mind.
“Ditto, baby,” I reply.
Alors pour elle, ça doit nager dans la chlorophylle et pour lui… des fessées et un zizi tout dur ? Mais je sais pas je suppute seulement…

 

TAYLOR PULLS UP OUTSIDE my parents’ front door. “Are you ready for this?” I ask. Ana nods and I squeeze her hand.
Oui, non mais jusqu’à preuve du contraire, ils ne mangent pas les gens ses parents si ?

“First for me, too,” I whisper. When Taylor’s out the door I give her a wicked, salacious grin. “Bet you wish you were wearing your underwear right now.”
… ça changerait quoi au juste ?

Her breath hitches and she scowls, but I climb out of the car to greet my mother and father, who are waiting on the doorstep. Ana looks cool and calm as she walks around the car to us. “Anastasia, you’ve met my mother, Grace. This is my dad, Carrick.”
“Mr. Grey, what a pleasure to meet you.” She smiles and shakes his outstretched hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Anastasia.”
“Please, call me Ana.”
“Ana, how lovely to see you again.” Grace hugs her. “Come in, my dear.” Taking Ana’s arm, she leads her inside and I follow in her pantyless wake.
Je ne comprends ce que ça a de si renversant. Elle ne porte pas de culotte en effet. Et après… ?

“Is she here?” Mia screams from somewhere inside the house. Ana gives me a startled look.
“That would be Mia, my little sister.”
We both turn in the direction of the high heels clattering through the hall. And there she is. “Anastasia! I’ve heard so much about you!”
Menteeeeeeeeeuuuse ! ôô

Mia wraps her in a big hug. Though she’s taller than Ana, I remember they’re almost the same age.
Mia takes her hand and drags her into the vestibule as my parents and I follow. “He’s never brought a girl home before,” Mia tells Ana in a shrill voice.
“Mia, calm down,” Grace chides.
Yes, for fuck’s sake, Mia. Stop making such a scene.
Ben oui mais faut comprendre, on te soupçonnait de faire des trucs suspects à de pauvres koalas innocents alors bon… ôô

Ana catches me rolling my eyes and shoots me a withering look.
Grace greets me with a kiss on both cheeks. “Hello, darling.” She’s glowing, happy to have all her children home. Carrick offers his hand. “Hello, son. Long time no see.” We shake hands and follow the women into the living room. “Dad, you saw me yesterday,” I mutter. “Dad jokes”—my father excels at them.
Et vu ton caractère de coincé ça a pas dû être évident…

Kavanagh and Elliot are cuddling on one of the sofas. But Kavanagh gets up to hug Ana when we enter.
“Christian.” She gives me a polite nod.
“Kate.”
La température vient soudain de chuter de 40°C. Il neige à présent dans le salon de la famille Grey.

And now Elliot has his big paws all over Ana.
Fuck, who knew my family was so touchy-feely all of a sudden? Put her down.
On dirait tellement, au choix, un sale gosse qui veut pas partager ses jouer ou un Yorkshire aigri qui veut pas qu’on touche sa baballe…

I glare at Elliot and he grins—an I’m-just-showing-you-how-it’s-done expression plastered all over his face. I slip my arm around Ana’ waist and pull her to my side. All eyes are on us.
Hell. This feels like a freak show.
Avec toi au milieu ? Un peu. Mais c’est pas grave, Ana saura être forte.

“Drinks?” Dad offers. “Prosecco?”
“Please,” Ana and I reply together.
Mia bounces on the spot and claps her hands. “You’re even saying the same things. I’ll get them.” She dashes out of the room.
…. Ah oui non clairement faut qu’elle se calme celle-ci Oo

What the hell is wrong with my family?
Ana frowns. She’s probably finding them weird, too.
Et d’un autre côté, elle couche avec toi. Tout est relatif quand même.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Grace says as she follows Mia out of the room.
“Sit,” I tell Ana, and I lead her over to one of the sofas. She does as she’s told and I sit at her side, careful not to touch her. I need to set an example for my overly demonstrative family.
Maybe they’ve always been this way?
Ou peut-être que c’est juste toi qui est allergique à toute forme d’affection parce que tu perçois ça comme un genre de… faiblesse ?

My father diverts me. “We were just talking about vacations, Ana. Elliot has decided to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week.”
Dude! I stare at Elliot. What the hell happened to Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em?
Il a trouvé un vagin confortable (je sais je suis affreuse) (mais c’est sa faute à lui là !! >.<)

Kavanagh must be good in the sack. She certainly looks smug enough.
“Are you taking a break now that you’ve finished your degree?” Carrick asks Ana.
“I’m thinking about going to Georgia for a few days,” she answers.
“Georgia?” I exclaim, unable to hide my surprise.
Oh oh…

“My mother lives there,” she says, her voice wavering, “and I haven’t seen her for a while.”
“When were you thinking of going?” I snap.
“Tomorrow, late evening.”
Tomorrow! What the fuck? And I’m only learning of this now?
Iceberg in view, iceberg in view, turn you way Titanic !!! \°o°/

Mia returns with pink prosecco for Ana and me.
“Your good health!” Dad raises his glass.
“For how long?” I persist, trying to keep my voice level.
“I don’t know yet. It will depend how my interviews go tomorrow.”
Interviews? Tomorrow?
ABANDON SHIP !! ABANDON SHIP !!! \@o@/

“Ana deserves a break,” Kavanagh interrupts, staring at me with illconcealed antagonism. I want to tell her to mind her own fucking business, but for Ana’s sake I hold my tongue.
Oui et vu le bordel pour des pommes quand vous étiez gosses, je crains le résultat si vous insultez vos petites amies respectives…

“You have interviews?” Dad asks Ana.
“Yes, for internships at two publishers, tomorrow.”
When was she going to tell me this? I’m here with her for two minutes and I’m finding out details of her life that I should know!
… ou pas : c’est encore une citoyenne libre de mener sa vie comme elle l’entend d’autant que… ELLE N’A RIEN SIGNE ! AH ! èé/

“I wish you the best of luck,” Carrick says to her with a kind smile.
“Dinner is ready,” Grace calls from across the hall.
I let the others exit the room but grab Ana’s elbow before she can follow.
“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?” My temper is rapidly unraveling.
“I’m not leaving. I’m going to see my mother. And I was only thinking about it.” Ana dismisses me, as if I’m a child.
“What about our arrangement?”
“We don’t have an arrangement yet.”
But….
I lead us through the living room door and into the hallway. “This conversation is not over,” I warn as we enter the dining room.
Relation abusive bonjoooooooour ! \^o^/

Mom has gone all out—best china, best crystal—for Ana’s and Kavanagh’s benefit. I hold out a chair for Ana; she sits down and I take a seat beside her. Mia beams at both of us from across the table. “Where did you meet Ana?” Mia asks.
“She interviewed me for the WSU student newspaper.”
“Which Kate edits,” Ana interjects.
“I want to be a journalist,” Kate tells Mia.
My father offers Ana some wine while Mia and Kate discuss journalism. Kavanagh has an internship at the Seattle Times, no doubt set up for her by her father.
Et même si c’est le cas, ça te regarde en quoi exactement ?

From the corner of my eye I notice that Ana’s studying me.
“What?” I ask.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” she says, so low that only I can hear.
“I’m not mad at you,” I lie.
Her eyes narrow, and it’s obvious she doesn’t believe me.
En même temps après le début de scène que tu viens de faire QUI peut te croire ? -_-

“Yes, I am mad at you,” I confess. And now I feel like I’m overreacting. I close my eyes.
Get a grip, Grey.
Hu hu hu… C’est bien l’acceptation de son propre ridicule est le premier pas vers la guérison (ou pas…)

“Palm-twitchingly mad?” she whispers.
“What are you two whispering about?” Kavanagh interrupts.
Good God! Is she always like this? So intrusive? How the hell does Elliot put up with her?
Parce que c’est pas un coincé du troufion qui pense que le monde doit tourner autour de ce qu’il veut lui et de rien d’autre ?

I glower at her, and she has the sense to back off.
“Just about my trip to Georgia,” Ana says, with sweetness and charm.
Kate smirks. “How was José when you went to the bar with him on Friday?” she asks, with a brash look in my direction.

What. The. Fuck. Is. This?
Ana tenses beside me.
Kate. Avec des amies comme elle, TU N’AS PAS BESOIN D’ENNEMI ? Et avec des amies comme elle et un mec comme Christian ? RAJOUTE UNE TRES BONNE ASSURANCE VIE ! >.<

“He was fine,” she says quietly.
“Palm-twitchingly mad,” I whisper to her. “Especially now.”
So she went to a bar with the guy who was trying to ram his tongue down her throat the last time I saw him. And she’d already agreed to be mine. Sneaking off to a bar with another man? And without my permission…
She deserves to be punished.
Ou toi tu deserved de garder tes mains dans tes poches et tes idées de chiottes pour toi : ELLE EST ENCORE LIBRE DE FAIRE CE QUELLE VEUT, TETE DE GLAND ! èé (oui je sais: je crie encore) (pardon T.T)

Around me, dinner is being served.
I’ve agreed not to go too hard on her…maybe I should use a flogger. Or maybe I should administer a straightforward spanking, harder than the last one. Here, tonight.
Yes. That has possibilities.

Ana’s looking down at her fingers. Kate, Elliot, and Mia are in a conversation about French cooking, and Dad returns to the table. Where’s he been?
“Call for you, darling. It’s the hospital,” he says to Grace.
“Please start, everyone,” Mom says, passing a plate of food to Ana.
Smells good.
Ana licks her lips and the action resonates in my groin. She must be starving. Good.
Ouais enfin si c’est le cas ça veut qu’elle n’a rien mange avant au point d’être affammée. Je ne suis pas sûre que ça soit une bonne nouvelle…

That’s something.
Mom has surpassed herself: chorizo, scallops, peppers.
*ne fera aucun commentaire sur la cuisine locale au risqué d’être prise pour une sale élitiste française* *mais n’en pense pas moins*

Nice. And I realize that I, too, am hungry. That can’t be helping my mood. But I brighten watching Ana eat.
Grace returns, looking worried. “Everything okay?” Dad asks, and we all look up at her.
“Another measles case.” Grace sighs heavily.
“Oh no,” Dad says.
“Yes, a child. The fourth case this month. If only people would get their kids vaccinated.” Grace shakes her head. “I’m so glad our children never went through that. They never caught anything worse than chicken pox, thank goodness. Poor Elliot.” We all look at Elliot, who stops eating, midchew, mouth stuffed full, bovine. He’s uncomfortable being the center of attention.
En même temps il était pépère en train de manger et d’un coup tout le monde le regarde !

Kavanagh gives Grace a questioning look.
“Christian and Mia were lucky,” Grace explains. “They got it so mildly, only a spot to share between them.”
Oh, give it a rest, Mom.
Beeen… non. Justement parce que c’est une maman. Andouille.

“So, did you catch the Mariners game, Dad?” Elliot’s clearly keen to move the conversation on, as am I.
“I can’t believe they beat the Yankees,” Carrick says.
“Did you watch the game, hotshot?” Elliot asks me.
“No. But I read the sports column.”
“The M’s are going places. Nine games won out of the last eleven, gives me hope.” Dad sounds excited.
“They’re certainly having a better season than 2010,” I add.
“Gutierrez in center field was awesome. That catch! Wow.” Elliot throws up his arms. Kavanagh fawns over him like a lovesick fool.
Regarde à côté de toi avant de critique les voisins bonhomme.

“How are you settling into your new apartment, dear?” Grace asks Ana.
“We’ve only been there one night, and I still have to unpack, but I love that it’s so central—and a short walk to Pike Place, and near the water.”
“Oh, so you’re close to Christian, then,” Grace remarks.
Le premier argument qui me ferait déménager… ôô

Mom’s helper starts to clear the table. I still can’t remember her name. She’s Swiss, or Austrian or something, and she doesn’t stop simpering and batting eyelashes at me.
Ou peut-être qu’elle sent que t’es un type dangereux et elle te quitte pas des yeux pour fuir si jamais tu fais un geste brusque ?

“Have you been to Paris, Ana?” Mia asks.
“No, but I’d love to go.”
“We honeymooned in Paris,” Mom says. She and Dad exchange a look across the table, which frankly I’d prefer not to see. They obviously had a good time.
Ben oui, people fuck Christian, même tes parents adoptifs…“It’s a beautiful city, in spite of the Parisians.
Va crever sale touriste ingrate ! èé

Christian, you should take Ana to Paris!” Mia exclaims.
“I think Anastasia would prefer London,” I respond to my sister’s ridiculous suggestion. Placing my hand on Ana’s knee, I explore her thigh at a leisurely pace, her dress riding up as my fingers follow. I want to touch her; stroke her where her panties should be. As my cock rouses in anticipation I suppress a groan and shuffle in my seat.
… tu es chez tes PARENTS !! Un peu de respects non d’un lapin sous Viagra !!!

She jerks away from me as if to cross her legs, and I close my hand around her thigh.
Don’t you dare!
Mais !! MAIS ELLE DARE CE QU’ELLE VEUT PRIAPIQUE EN GOGUETTE ! èé/

Ana takes a sip of wine, not taking her eyes off my mother’s housekeeper, who is serving our entrées.
“So what was wrong with the Parisians? Didn’t they take to your winsome ways?” Elliot teases Mia.
“Ugh, no, they didn’t. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a domineering tyrant.”
Ana chokes on her wine.
Tu m’étonnes…

“Anastasia, are you okay?” I ask, and release her thigh.
She nods, her cheeks red, and I pat her back and gently caress her neck. Domineering tyrant? Am I? The thought amuses me. Mia shoots me a look of approval at my public display of affection.
Tu parles ! Elle a faille s’étouffer c’est quand même le minimum ! >.<

Mom has cooked her signature dish, Beef Wellington, a recipe she picked up in London. I have to say it ranks close to yesterday’s buttermilk fried chicken. In spite of her choking episode, Ana tucks into her meal and it’s so good to see her eat. She’s probably hungry after our energetic afternoon. I take a sip of my wine as I contemplate other ways to make her hungry.

Mia and Kavanagh are discussing the relative merits of St. Bart’s vs. Barbados, where the Kavanagh family will be staying.
“Remember Elliot and the jellyfish?” Mia’s eyes shine with mirth as she looks from Elliot to me.
I chuckle. “Screaming like a girl? Yeah.”
Va crever, cancrelat

“Hey, that could have been a Portuguese man-of-war! I hate jellyfish. They ruin everything.” Elliot is emphatic. Mia and Kate burst into giggles, nodding in agreement.
Ana is eating heartily and listening to the banter. Everyone else has calmed down, and my family is being less weird. Why am I so tense? This happens every day all across the country, families gathering to enjoy good food and each other’s company. Am I tense because I have Ana here? Am I worried they won’t like her, or that she won’t like them? Or is it because she’s fucking off to Georgia tomorrow, and I knew nothing about that?
It’s confusing.
Au risque de me répéter, c’était déjà lourd au début, mais rendu page 345/577, c’est au-delà du réchauffé-pas-bon-qui-est-trop-resté-au-frigo -___-

Mia takes center stage as usual. Her tales of French life and French cooking are entertaining. “Oh, Mom,
les pâtisseries sont tout simplement fabuleuses. La tarte aux pommes de M. Floubert est incroyable,” she says.
Mia, chérie, tu parles français,” I interrupt her. “Nous parlons anglais ici. Eh bien, à l’exception bien sûr d’Elliot. Il parle idiote, couramment.”
Hoooou la traduction littérale qui puuuuuuuue… ^^;

Mia throws her head back with a bellowing laugh, and it’s impossible not to join her.
…. Elle a déjà trop bu ou bien ?

But by the end of dinner the tension is really wearing me down. I want to be alone with my girl. I’ve only so much tolerance for inane chatter, even if it’s with my family, and I’ve reached my limit. I peer down at Ana, then reach over and tug her chin. “Don’t bite your lip. I want to do that.”
Et moi je veux gagner au loto, perdre 10kg et choicer où et avec qui je bosse. Mais on n’a pas toujours ce qu’on veut dans la vie.

I also have to establish a few ground rules. We need to discuss her impromptu trip to Georgia and going out for drinks with men who are infatuated with her.
Elle va voir sa mère quand elle veut et elle sort boire des verres avec des gens tout pareil. N’en déplaise à monsieur bite-à-pattes èé

I put my hand on Ana’s knee again; I need to touch her. Besides, she should accept my touch, whenever I want to touch her.
Alors, laisse-moi réfléchir…. Non !

I gauge her reaction as my fingers travel up her thigh toward her panty-free zone, teasing her skin. Her breath catches and she squeezes her thighs together, blocking my fingers, stopping me.
That’s it.
Oui, on appelle ça le consentement et le libre arbitre, face de pêt (je ne vais plus crier mais l’insulter en fait, je trouve ça étrangement satisfaisant d’un seul coup)

I have to excuse us from the dinner table. “Shall I give you a tour of the grounds?” I ask Ana, and I don’t give her a chance to answer. Her eyes are luminous and serious as she places her hand in mine.
“Excuse me,” she says to Carrick, and I lead her out of the dining room.
In the kitchen Mia and Mom are clearing up. “I’m going to show Anastasia the backyard,” I announce to my mother, pretending to be cheerful.
Outside, my mood plunges south as my anger surfaces.
Panties. The photographer. Georgia.
Voilà, concentre-toi sur des sujets simple, tu n’as pas les capacités de faire autrement de toute façon.

We cross the terrace and climb the steps to the lawn. Ana pauses for a moment to admire the view.
Yeah, yeah. Seattle. Lights. Moon. Water.
Pfff ces pauvres qui s’émerveillent d’un rien c’est d’un grossier je vous jure… (que quelqu’un lui caresse la tête avec un chaise !)

I continue across the vast lawn toward my parents’ boathouse.
“Stop, please,” Ana pleads.
I do, and glare at her.
C’est vrai c’est utile de faire ça

“My heels. I need to take my shoes off.”
“Don’t bother,” I growl, and lift her quickly over my shoulder. She squeals in surprise.
Hell. I smack her ass, hard. “Keep your voice down!” I snap, and stride across the lawn.
“Where are we going?” she wails as she bounces on my shoulder.
“Boathouse.”
“Why?”
“I need to be alone with you.”
“What for?”
“Because I’m going to spank and then fuck you.”
“Why?” she whines.
“You know why,” I snap.
“I thought you were an in-the-moment guy?”
“Anastasia, I’m in the moment, trust me.”
Arrêtons-nous un instant pour admirer ce merveilleux syndrome de Stockholm (ou un truc approchant) : elle ne discute même le fait de la punition. Ca me désole

Throwing open the boathouse door, I step inside and switch on the light.
As the fluorescents ping to life I head upstairs to the snug. There I flip another switch, and halogens illuminate the room.
I slide Ana down my body, glorying in the feel of her, and I set her on her feet. Her hair is dark and untamed, her eyes shining in the glow of the lights, and I know she’s not wearing her panties. I want her. Now.
“Please don’t hit me,” she whispers.
I don’t understand. I stare down at her blankly.
C’est vrai ça, c’est tellement sympa de se faire taper dessus ! …. MAIS QUELLE ABRUTI C’EST PAS VRAI !

“I don’t want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don’t.”
But…I gape at her, paralyzed. That’s why we’re here.
Oh !! Mais !! MAIS !! MON DIEU ! Ma victim ne veut pas être une gentile petit chose qui se laisse maltraiter, mais… pourquoi ?? *.* …abattez cette creature, elle souffre inutilement -_-

She lifts her hand, and for a moment I don’t know what she’s going to do. The darkness stirs and twists around my throat, threatening to choke me if she touches me. But she places her fingers on my cheek and gently skims them down to my chin. The darkness melts into oblivion and I close my eyes, feeling her gentle fingertips on me. With her other hand she ruffles my hair, running her fingers through it.

“Ah,” I moan, and I don’t know if it’s from fear or longing.

I’m breathless, standing on a precipice. When I open my eyes, she steps forward so her body is flush against mine. She fists both hands in my hair and tugs gently, raising her lips to mine. And I’m watching her do this, like a bystander, not present in my body. I’m a spectator. Our lips touch and I close my eyes as she forces her tongue into my mouth. And it’s the sound of my groan that breaks the spell she’s cast.
Ana.
Eh ben… il lui faut pas grand-chose pour être perdu au monsieur…

I wrap my arms around her, kissing her back, releasing two hours of anxiety and tension into our kiss, my tongue possessing her, reconnecting with her. My hands grip her hair and I savor her taste, her tongue, her frame against mine as my body ignites like gasoline.
Fuck.
When I pull away we’re both dragging air into our lungs, her hands clutching my arms.
Parce qu’il embrasse en panée en plus ? Oo

I’m confused. I wanted to spank her. But she’s said no. Like she did at the dinner table. “What are you doing to me?” I ask.
“Kissing you.”
“You said no.”
“What?” She’s bewildered, or maybe she’s forgotten what happened.
“At the dinner table, with your legs.”
“But we were at your parents’ dining table.”
AH ! Enfin quelqu’un qui a peu de sens des convenances dans cette histoire, merci bien !

“No one’s ever said no to me before. And it’s so—hot.”
FICHTRE ! Gros bébé a fait un caprice et on lui a dit non ? Et ça lui fait des choses dans son slip ? Il est payé à quoi au juste le docteur machin ?

And different. I slide my hand around her backside and jolt her against me, trying to regain control.
“You’re mad and turned on because I said no?” Her voice is throaty.
“I’m mad because you never mentioned Georgia to me. I’m mad because you went drinking with that guy who tried to seduce you when you were drunk,
Donc dans ce cas c’est pas seduced, mais un truc beaucoup moins romantique et beaucoup plus sale

and who left you when you were ill
Vu que t’avais l’air de vouloir lui bouffer un bras, on comprend qu’il ait levé le camp

with an almost complete stranger.
Sauf que tu es un homme, blanc, riche et célèbre. Même si on ne devrait pas (SURTOUT PAS !) on t’accord beaucoup de credit.

What kind of friend does that? And I’m mad and aroused because you closed your legs on me.”
And you’re not wearing panties.
Eh bien dites donc… pour un gars accro au controle il lui en faut pas beaucoup pour partir en vrille (mais ça en même temps on le savait déjà)

My fingers inch her dress up her legs. “I want you, and I want you now. And if you’re not going to let me spank you—which you deserve—I’m going to fuck you on the couch, this minute, quickly—for my pleasure, not yours.”

 

Holding her against me, I see that she’s panting as I slip my hand through her pubic hair and slide my middle finger inside her. I hear a low, sexy hum of appreciation in her throat. She’s so ready.
“This is mine. All mine. Do you understand?” I slip my finger in and out of her, holding her, as her lips part with shock and desire.
“Yes, yours,” she whispers.
Yes. Mine. And I won’t let you forget it, Ana.
Mais !! Mais c’est parce qu’elle voit des gens qu’elle est pas ta copine !! Et c’est bien ça la nuance d’ailleurs : ta COPINE ! Pas TA CHOSE ! Sous-résultat de mauvais compost ! è_é

I push her down onto the couch, unzip my fly, and lie down on top of her, pinning her beneath me. “Hands on your head,” I growl through clenched teeth. I kneel up and spread my knees, forcing her legs wider. From the inside pocket of my jacket I take out a condom, then discard my jacket on the floor. With my eyes on hers I open the packet and roll it down my eager dick.
Ah ! Ah ! Serait-ce un début d’éveil à la spiritualité de son appendice ? *.*

Ana places her hands on her head, watching me, her eyes glinting with need. As I crawl over her she’s squirming beneath me, her hips rising to tease and greet me.
(juste au cas où je vous renvois aux premiers chapitre et vous rappelle que ça fait une vingtaine de jours qu’ils se connaissent, donc une quinzaine qu’ils couchant) (Voilà, voilà…)

“We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand? Don’t come, or I will spank you,” I order, focusing on her dazed wide eyes, and with a swift, hard move I bury myself inside her. She calls out in a welcome and familiar cry of pleasure. I hold her down so she can’t move, and I start to fuck her, consuming her. But greedily she tilts her pelvis, meeting me thrust for thrust, spurring me on.
Oh, Ana. Yes, baby.
She gives it back to me, matching my fervent pace, over and over.
Oh, the feel of her.
And I’m lost. In her. In this. In her scent. And I don’t know if it’s because I’m mad or tense or…
Yessss. I come quickly,
Pfff ! Ejaculateur précosse !

losing all reason as I explode inside her. I still.
Filling her. Owning her. Reminding her that she’s mine.
Non : tu remplis un bout de plastic. Au mieux c’est lui que tu possèdes. Et encore, parce que c’est un objet. Même si tu la prends par tous les trous tu ne possèdes jamais une personne. Pa dans le sens que toi tu voudrais en tout cas.

Fuck.
That was…
I pull out of her and kneel up.
“Don’t touch yourself.” My voice is hoarse and breathless. “I want you frustrated. That’s what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what’s mine.”

She nods, sprawled out beneath me, her dress bunched up around her waist so I can see she’s wide and wet and wanting, and looking every bit the goddess that she is. I stand up, remove the wretched condom and knot it, then dress, picking up my jacket from the floor.
I take a deep breath. I’m calmer now. Much calmer.
Fuck, that was good.
Et rapide surtout… *ne fera aucun commentaire de plus mais n’en pense pas moins*

“We’d better get back to the house.”
She sits up, staring at me with dark, inscrutable eyes.
Lord, she’s lovely.
“Here. You may put these on.” From my jacket pocket I fish out her lacy panties and pass them to her. I think she’s trying not to laugh.
Yeah, yeah. Game, set, and match to you, Miss Steele.
Si on étudiait le cerveau de ce type, on aurait de quoi occupier tout un labo pendant les deux sicèles à venir ôô

“Christian!” Mia yells from the floor below.
Shit.
“Just in time. Christ, she can be really irritating.” But that’s my little sister. Alarmed, I glance at Ana as she slips on her underwear. She scowls at me as she stands to straighten her dress and fixes her hair with her fingers.
“Up here, Mia,” I call. “Well, Miss Steele, I feel better for that—but I still want to spank you.”
“I don’t believe I deserve it, Mr. Grey, especially after tolerating your unprovoked attack.” She is crisp and formal.
“Unprovoked? You kissed me.”
“It was attack as the best form of defense.”
“Defense against what?”
“You and your twitchy palm.” She’s trying to suppress a smile.
Mia’s high heels rattle up the stairs.
“But it was tolerable?” I ask.
Ana smirks. “Barely.”
“Oh, there you are!” Mia exclaims, beaming at the two of us. Two minutes earlier and this could have been really awkward.
Déjà je comprends même pas que ça le soit là de suite maintenant ôo ou alors la soeur est encore plus évaporée qu’elle en a l’air…

“I was showing Anastasia around.” I hold out my hand to Ana and she takes it. I want to kiss her knuckles, but I settle for a soft squeeze.
“Kate and Elliot are about to leave. Can you believe those two? They can’t keep their hands off each other.” Mia wrinkles her nose in distaste.
… ok elle est COMPLETEMENT évaporée.

“What have you been doing in here?”
“Showing Anastasia my rowing trophies.” With my free hand I wave toward the faux-precious-metal statuettes from my sculling days at Harvard arranged on shelves at the end of the room. “Let’s go say good-bye to Kate and Elliot.”
Mia turns to go and I let Ana precede me, but before we get to the stairs I smack her behind.
She smothers her yelp.
“I will do it again, Anastasia, and soon,” I whisper in her ear, and folding her into my arms, I kiss her hair.
J’ai tellement envie de lui faire une coloscopie avec un cactus à ce garçon…

We walk hand in hand across the lawn back to the house while Mia gabbles beside us. It’s a beautiful evening; it’s been a beautiful day. I’m glad Ana’s met my family.
Why haven’t I done this before?
Because I’ve never wanted to.

I squeeze Ana’s hand, and she gives me a shy look and an oh-so-sweet smile. In my other hand I hold her shoes, and at the stone steps I bend down to fasten each of her sandals in turn.
“There,” I announce when I’m done.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Grey,” she says.
“The pleasure is, and was, all mine.”
“I’m well aware of that, Sir,” she teases.
“Oh, you two are sooo sweet!” Mia coos as we head into the kitchen.
Ouiiiiiiii, mignon comme une catastrophe auto routière avec une demi centaine de véhicules impliqués et morceaux humains qui jonchent le sol un peu partout ! Minimum ! ^__^

Ana gives me a sideways look.
Back in the hallway, Kavanagh and Elliot are about to leave. Ana hugs Kate, but then pulls her aside to have a heated private conversation. What the hell is that about? Elliot takes Kavanagh’s arm and my parents wave them off as they climb into Elliot’s pickup.
“We should go, too—you have interviews tomorrow.” We have to drive her back to her new apartment and it’s nearly 11:00.
“We never thought he’d find anyone!” Mia gushes as she hugs Ana, hard.
Oh, for fuck’s sake…
Vu ton caractère de merde, si, quand même, c’était super compromise quand même…

“Take care of yourself, Ana dear,” Grace says, smiling warmly at my girl.
I pull Ana to my side.
“Let’s not frighten her away or spoil her with too much affection.”
“Christian, stop teasing,” Grace chastises me in her usual manner.
“Mom.” I give her a quick peck. Thank you for inviting Ana. It’s been a revelation.
On est rendu au delà du ridicule…

Ana says good-bye to my dad, and we head to the Audi, where Taylor waits, holding the rear passenger door open for her.
“Well, it seems my family likes you, too,” I observe when I’ve joined Ana in the back. Her eyes reflect the light from my parents’ porch, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Shadows shroud her face as Taylor drives smoothly out onto the road.
I catch her staring at me under the flicker of a street lamp. She’s anxious. Something’s wrong.

“What?” I ask.
She is quiet at first, and when she speaks there’s an emptiness in her voice. “I think that you felt trapped into bringing me to meet your parents. If Elliot hadn’t asked Kate, you’d never have asked me.”
Oups… elle a découvert l’astuce on ditait…

Damn. She doesn’t understand. It was a first for me. I was nervous. Surely she knows by now that if I didn’t want her here, she wouldn’t be here. As we pass from light to shadow under the street lamps, she looks distant and upset.
Grey, this will not do.
Je m’attends à tout momen à l’etendre parler de lui-même à vox haute à la troisième personne…

“Anastasia, I’m delighted that you’ve met my parents. Why are you so filled with self-doubt?
Parce que dans cette situation precise, elle est surtout très très lucide, ne t’en déplaise ?

It never ceases to amaze me. You’re such a strong, self-contained young woman, but you have such negative thoughts about yourself. If I hadn’t wanted you to meet them, you wouldn’t be here. Is that how you were feeling the whole time you were there?” I shake my head, reach for her hand, and give it another reassuring squeeze.
She glances nervously at Taylor.
“Don’t worry about Taylor. Talk to me.”
“Yes. I thought that,” she says quietly. “And another thing, I only mentioned Georgia because Kate was talking about Barbados. I haven’t made up my mind.”
Mais ! Mais noooooon !!! Tu n’as PAS à te trouver d’excuses, tu fais ce que tu as ENVIE de FAIRE ! ARG ! >.<

“Do you want to go and see your mother?”
“Yes.”
My anxiety surfaces. Does she want out?
Non, elle veut juste aller voir sa mère, sa. Mère !!

If she goes to Georgia, her mother might persuade her to find someone more…suitable, someone who, like her mother, believes in romance.
Oui, parce qu’elle va expliquer à sa mère qu’elle se fait passer dessus comme un fer passe sur une planchet à repasser, C’EST EVIDENT ! >.<

I have an idea. She’s met my folks; I’ve met Ray; perhaps I should meet her mother, the incurable romantic. Charm her.
“Can I come with you?” I ask, knowing that she’ll say no.
“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answers, surprised by my question.
“Why not?”
“I was hoping for a break from all this…intensity. To try to think things through.”
Shit. She does want to leave me.
Hey mais faut qu’il arête lui! Tu veux pas non plus l’enfermer dans une cage et plus jamais la laisser sortir ??? … oh, wait ! ôô

“I’m too intense?”
She laughs. “That’s putting it mildly!”
Damn, I love making her laugh, even if it is at my expense;
C’est bien, tu commences à prendre un peu de recul…

and I’m relieved she’s kept her sense of humor.
Avec un mec comme toi elle a plutôt intérêt !

Perhaps she doesn’t want to leave me after all.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Steele?” I tease.
“I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Grey.”
“I think you dare, and I think you do laugh at me, frequently.”
“You are quite funny.”
“Funny?”
“Oh yes.”
She’s making fun of me. It’s novel. “Funny peculiar or funny ha-ha?”
“Oh, a lot of one and some of the other.”
“Which way more?”
“I’ll leave you to figure that out.”
I sigh. “I’m not sure if I can figure anything out around you.”
Rha mais pitiéééééé !! Ce mec est censé être super intelligent for fuck sakes !!!

My tone is dry. “What do you need to think about in Georgia?”
“Us.”
Fuck. “You said you’d try,” I gently remind her.
“I know.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
“Possibly.”
It’s worse than I feared. “Why?”

She stares at me in silence. “Why, Anastasia?” I persist. She shrugs, her mouth turned down, and I hope she’ll find her hand in mine reassuring.
Ou super opressante. C’est 50/50.

“Talk to me. I don’t want to lose you. This last week—”
Has been the best in my life.
“I still want more,” she breathes.
Oh no, not this again. What does she need me to say?
Qu’elle est autre chose qu’un sac à foutre ? Mais je sais pas hein…

“I know. I’ll try.” I clasp her chin. “For you, Anastasia, I will try.”
Pour ta queue surtout oui ! èé

I’ve just taken you to meet my parents, for heaven’s sake.
Et après… ?

Suddenly she unbuckles her seatbelt, and before I know it she’s scrambled into my lap.
What the hell?
I sit immobile as her arms slip around my head, and her lips find mine, and coax a kiss from me before the darkness has a chance to stir. My hands slide up her back until I’m cradling her head and returning her passion, exploring her sweet, sweet mouth, trying to find answers…
Au pire tu trouveras des germes de carrie, mais pas plus, désolée :-/

Her unexpected affection is utterly disarming. And new. And confusing. I thought she wanted to leave, and now she’s in my lap and turning me on, again.
I’ve never…never…Don’t go, Ana.
Pffff, MAIS PFFFFFFFFFFFFF !!! C’est CHIANT ! Comme une pâte à crêpes trop liquide

 “Stay with me tonight. If you go away, I won’t see you all week. Please,” I whisper.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “And I’ll try, too. I’ll sign your contract.”
Oh, baby.
“Sign after Georgia. Think about it. Think about it hard.” I want her to do this willingly—
Ah bon ? Pour de vrai ? Parce que c’était tout de même pas super clair jusque là…

I don’t want to force this on her. Well, part of me doesn’t. The rational part.
Mouais. Admettons. Admettons.

“I will,” she says, and nestles against me.
This woman has me tied up in knots.
Ironic, Grey.
And I want to laugh because I’m relieved and happy, but I hold her, breathing in her redolent and comforting scent.
“You really should wear your seatbelt,” I scold, but I don’t want her to move. She stays wrapped in my embrace, her body slowly relaxing against mine. The darkness inside me is quiet, contained, and I’m confused by my warring emotions. What do I want out of her? What do I need out of her?
Doit-on vraiment répondre à cette question ?

This is not how we should be progressing, but I like her in my arms; I like cradling her like this. I kiss her hair, and lean back and enjoy the ride into Seattle.
Taylor stops outside the entrance to Escala. “We’re home,” I whisper to Ana. I’m reluctant to release her, but I lift her onto her seat. Taylor opens her door and she joins me at the entrance to the building.
A shiver runs through her.
“Why don’t you have a jacket?” I ask as I slip mine off and drape it over her shoulders.
“It’s in my new car,” she says, yawning.
“Tired, Miss Steele?”
“Yes, Mr. Grey. I’ve been prevailed upon in ways I never thought possible today.”
“Well, if you’re really unlucky, I may prevail upon you some more.” If I get lucky.
A ce stade c’est juste déprimant….

She leans against the wall of the elevator as we travel up to the penthouse. Under my jacket she looks slim and small and sexy. If she wasn’t wearing her underwear I could take her in here… I reach up and free her lip from her teeth. “One day I will fuck you in this elevator, Anastasia, but right now you’re tired—so I think we should stick to a bed.” I bend down and gently take her bottom lip in my teeth. Her breath catches and she returns the gesture with her teeth and my upper lip.
I feel it in my groin.
En même temps, même le gout de la pizza c’est par là que ça passe chez toi alors bon, hein…

I want to take her to bed and lose myself in her. After our conversation in the car I just want to be sure she’s mine. When we exit the elevator I offer her a drink, but she declines.
“Good. Let’s go to bed.”
She looks surprised. “You’re going to settle for plain old vanilla?”
“Nothing plain or old about vanilla. It’s a very intriguing flavor.”
“Since when?”
“Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?”
“Oh no. I’ve had enough exotic for one day.”
En même temps il l’a sauté combine de fois… deux dans la play room, une fois dans la boat house… Scientifiquement ça peut avoir combine d’orgasmes par jour sans souffrir un monsieur ?

“Sure? We cater for all tastes here—at least thirty-one flavors.” I give her a lascivious look.
“I’ve noticed.” She raises one fine eyebrow.
“Come on, Miss Steele, you have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll be fucked, and sooner you can sleep.”
“Mr. Grey, you are a born romantic.”
Je n’aurais pas dit mieux -__-

“Miss Steele, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come.”
Yeah. I can think of one way.
Closing the door of my bedroom, I feel lighter than I did in the car.
She’s still here.
Encore une fois, les choix ont été très limités à ce sujet donc oui, forcément, elle est toujours là.

“Hands in the air,” I order, and she does as she’s told. I grip the hem of her dress and in one smooth move pull it up and over her body to reveal the beautiful woman beneath.
“Ta-da!” I’m a magician. Ana giggles and gives me a round of applause. I bow, enjoying the game, before placing her dress on my chair.
“And for your next trick?” she asks, eyes glittering.
“Oh, my dear Miss Steele. Get into my bed, and I’ll show you.”
« Tu sens mon gros doigt et pourtant tu vois mes deux mains ! » (ne riez pas il serait capable ce gros lourd)

“Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?” she teases, tilting her head to one side so her hair tumbles over her shoulder.
A new game. This is interesting.
“Well, the door’s closed. Not sure how you’re going to avoid me. I think it’s a done deal.”

“But I’m a good negotiator,” she says, her voice soft but determined.
“So am I.”
Okay, what’s going on here? Is she reluctant? Too tired? What? “Don’t you want to fuck?” I ask, confused.
“No,” she whispers.
“Oh.” Well, that’s disappointing.
Oui Christian, il y a d’autre chose à faire avec une femme que la ligoter, la fesser, et lui ramoner l’entre cuisse comme on brique un vieux chaudron.

She swallows, then says in a small voice, “I want you to make love to me.”
I stare at her, bemused.
What exactly does she mean?
Make love? We do. We have. It’s just another term for fucking.
Non, ça voudrait dire que tu la vois comme autre chose qu’un trou accueillant. Je sais la notion est subtile mais sit u t’y penches 5mn, tu vas comrpendre

She studies me, her expression grave. Hell. Is this her idea of more? All the hearts-and-flowers shit, is that what she means? But we’re just talking semantics, surely? This is semantics. “Ana, I—” What does she want from me? “I thought we did.”
“I want to touch you.”
Fuck. No. I step back as the darkness closes around my ribs.
“Please,” she whispers.
No. No. Haven’t I made it clear?
Pas vraiment. Parce que quand tu dis ça, ça fait surtout gros caprice de sale gosse, en fait :-/

I can’t bear to be touched. I can’t.
Ever.
“Oh no, Miss Steele, you’ve had enough concessions from me this evening. And I’m saying no.”
“No?” she queries.
“No.”
And for a moment I want to send her home, or upstairs—anywhere away from me. Not here.
Don’t touch me.
Elle est à 5 mètres elle va rien te faire !

She’s watching me warily and I think about the fact that she’s leaving tomorrow and I won’t see her for a while. I sigh. I don’t have the energy for this. “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed.”
“So touching is a hard limit for you?”
“Yes. This is old news.” I can’t keep the exasperation out of my voice.
“Please tell me why.”
I don’t want to go there. This is not a conversation I want to have. Ever. “Oh, Anastasia, please. Just drop it for now.”
Beeeeeeen… non ? C’est pas toi qui la fait suer avec « il faut me parler Anastasia ». BEN MONTRE L’EXEMPLE, POMME VEREUSE ! èé

Her face falls. “It’s important to me,” she says, a hesitant plea in her voice.
“Fuck this,” I mutter to myself. At the chest of drawers I pull out a Tshirt and throw it to her. “Put that on and get into bed.” Why am I even letting her sleep with me? But it’s a rhetorical question: deep down I know the answer. It’s because I sleep better with her.
She’s my dream catcher.
She keeps my nightmares at bay.
On se demande VRAIMENT à quoi sert le docteur truc, décidément…

She turns away from me and removes her bra, then slips on the T-shirt.
What did I say to her in the playroom this afternoon? She shouldn’t hide her body from me.
“I need the bathroom,” she says.
“Now you’re asking permission?”
“Er…no.”
“Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don’t need my permission to use it.” I unbutton my shirt and slip it off, and she dashes past me out of the bedroom as I try to contain my temper.
What’s gotten into her?
… j’allais répondre un truc mais c’est du mauvais esprit (mais super drôle !) (de mon point de vue)

One evening at my parents’ and she’s expecting serenades and sunsets and fucking walks in the rain. That’s not what I’m about. I’ve told her this. I don’t do romance. I sigh heavily as I remove my pants.
But she wants more. She wants all that romantic shit.
Fuck.
Elle veut surtout être vue comme une personne, en fait. D’autant que t’es le premier type avec qui elle est… (y a une analyse à faire sur le poids de la symbolique de la virginité dans ce truc je pense)

In my closet I throw my pants into the laundry basket and pull on my PJ bottoms, and then wander back into my bedroom.
This isn’t going to work, Grey.
But I want it to work.
You should let her go.
Page 12, page 359 : on en est toujours. Au. Même. Fucking. Point. C’est usant.

No. I can make this work. Somehow.
The radio alarm reads 11:46. Time for bed. I check my phone for any urgent e-mails. There’s nothing. I give the bathroom door a brisk knock.
“Come in,” Ana garbles. She’s brushing her teeth, literally foaming at the mouth—with my toothbrush. She spits into the sink as I stand beside her, and we stare at each other in the mirror. Her eyes are bright with mischief and humor. She rinses off the toothbrush and without a word hands it to me. I put it in my mouth and she looks pleased with herself.
Je crois que l’union française pour la santé bucco-dentaire n’approuverait pas cette pratique…

And just like that, all the tension from our previous exchange evaporates.
“Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush,” I say sardonically.
“Thank you, Sir.” She beams, and for a moment I think she’s going to curtsey, but she leaves me to brush my teeth.
When I reenter the bedroom she’s stretched out under the covers. She should be stretched out under me. “You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out.” I sound sullen.
“Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me,” she says, as argumentative as ever.
She’s not going to let this go. I sit down on the bed. “Anastasia, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life—you don’t want that shit in your head. Why would you?”
No one should have this shit in their head!
“Because I want to know you better.”
Ben voilà, question débile, réponse simple.

“You know me well enough.”
“How can you say that?” She sits up and kneels facing me, earnest and eager.
Ana. Ana. Ana. Let it go. For fuck’s sake.
“You’re rolling your eyes,” she says. “Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee.”
“Oh, I’d like to put you there again.” Right now.
Her face brightens. “Tell me, and you can.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re bargaining with me?” My voice betrays my disbelief.

She nods. “Negotiating.”
I frown. “It doesn’t work that way, Anastasia.”
“Okay. Tell me, and I’ll roll my eyes at you.”
I laugh. Now she is being ridiculous, and cute in my T-shirt. Her face shines with longing.
“Always so keen and eager for information,” I marvel. And a thought occurs to me: I could spank her. I’ve wanted to since dinner, but I could make it fun.
I get off the bed. “Don’t go away,” I warn, and leave the room.
Et tu veux qu’elle aille où, moitié à poil et pieds nus dans ton t-shirt, avec un ascenceur privé probablement verouillé ou un truc du genre ?

From my study I pick up the key to the playroom and head upstairs. In the playroom chest I retrieve the toys I want and contemplate lube as well, but on reflection, and judging from recent experience, I don’t think Ana will need any.
She’s sitting on the bed when I get back, her expression bright with curiosity.
“When’s your first interview tomorrow?” I ask.
“Two.”
Excellent. No early morning.
“Good. Get off the bed. Stand over here.” I point to a spot in front of Ana scrambles off the bed with no hesitation, eager as ever. She’s waiting.
“Trust me?”

She nods, and I hold out my hand, revealing two silver kegel balls. She frowns and looks from the balls to me. “These are new.
Noooon, tu ne vas pas risquer de lui filer la mycose de ta précédente soumise par des trucs mal nettoyés ? Quelle générosité dis donc ! -__-

I am going to put these inside you and then I’m going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine.”
Mouais. Enfin le tien surtout hein, soyons honnête deux seconds…

 

Notre nenuphar va-t-il pouvoir partir voir sa mère tranquille ? Va-t-elle simplement pouvoir encore marcher le lendemain ? Et ce fichu sboob va-t-il ENFIN se mettre à nous parler ?? Les réponses (peut-être) au prochain chapitre !

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