"I can have mine come and see you at your apartment - Sunday morning before you come and see me. We are back to mergers and acquisitions - another 180-degree mood swing.
He sits back on the bed as he puts on his shoes and socks. "You need to sort out some contraception." "Well?" he prompts when I don't reply, and he looks at me expectantly as if he's waiting for my opinion on the weather. He holds up the condom, then puts it on the floor, and slips on his jeans. "I hate wearing these things," he grumbles. "When is your period due?" He interrupts my thoughts. I scoot out of bed too and grab my sweat pants and a cami top, then sit back on the bed, cross-legged, watching him. I glance quickly at the time - it's only nine-forty. Leaning down, he gives me a brief kiss then stands and grabs his boxers, oh no. "No, but I'm sure I could get one." His gray eyes blaze with excitement. "Anastasia, what was I doingI won't ask you again." And like a small child, I briefly entertain the thought that if I can't see him, then he can't see me. I peek up at him from under my arm, and he looks amused. "I came in my sleep." I throw my arm over my eyes. "Do you have something to tell me?" his voice is suddenly stern. I flush and blink at the same time, as he stares down at me. You've had six orgasms so far and all of them belong to me," he boasts, playful again. "Miss Steele, you are not just a pretty face. "If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well you haven't taken into account my GPA." I smile shyly at him. I cock my head to one side, like he does, and make an enormous effort to smile at him. It's so frustrating - I am desperate to know more. I'm still reeling from the tough introduction to life comment. He looks thoroughly pleased with himself and sounds very matter-of-fact at the same time, like he's just marked another tick box in a checklist. "I think that's all the very basics covered. Just don't." He strokes his nose against mine, and then he pulls out of me and sits up. I don't want to burden you with the details. "I had a very tough introduction to life. "Because I'm fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia." "Why don't you like to be touched?" I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. "Don't," he murmurs, then kisses me lightly. His hand swoops up and grabs mine, but he softens the blow by pulling it to his mouth and sweetly kissing my knuckles. This is the first time I've touched him here. And as rhyme and reason return to the rest of my body, I stretch my hand out on his chest. I nuzzle him, wishing I didn't have the barrier of his t-shirt. I don't want to move, I want to breathe this elixir for eternity. I'm lying on top of him, my head on his chest, and he smells divine: fresh, laundered linen and some expensive body wash, and the best, most seductive scent on the planet. I am floating, my limbs soft and languid, utterly spent. Slowly the outside world invades my senses, and oh my, what an invasion.
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