Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
Wow. All this in a child’s toy.
There is so much more that we could do with this simple technology. The challenge is how to store this energy. Graphene is the way to go…but can we build efficient enough batteries? Batteries that charge quickly and hold their charge—
“You like it?” Ana interrupts my thoughts.
“Ana, I love it. Thank you.” I grab her and kiss her and we watch the rotors spin. “I’ll add it to the glider in my office.” I move my hand out of the light and the rotors slow and come to a complete stop.
We move in the light.
We slow in the shadows.
We stop in the dark.
Hmm. Philosophical, Grey.
This is what Ana has done for me. She’s dragged me into the light and I quite like it.
I place Charlie Tango Mark II on the chest of drawers. “It’ll keep me company while we salvage Charlie Tango.”
“Is it salvageable?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll miss her, otherwise.”
Ana eyes me speculatively.
“What’s in the other box?” I ask.
“I’m not sure if this present is for you or me.”
“Really?”
She hands me the second box. It’s heavier and has a substantial rattle. Ana flicks her hair over her shoulder and shifts from foot to foot.
“Why are you so nervous?”
She seems excited and a little embarrassed, too. “You have me intrigued, Miss Steele. I have to say I’m enjoying your reaction. What have you been up to?” I remove the lid of the box and on top of some tissue is a small card.
On your birthday
Do rude things to me.
Please.
Your Ana x
My eyes dart to hers.
What does this mean?
“Do rude things to you?” I ask. She nods and swallows. She’s nervous, and deep down I know where this is going. She’s talking about the playroom.
Are you ready for this, Grey?
I rip open the tissue that conceals the box’s contents and retrieve an eye mask. Okay, she wants to be blindfolded. Next are some nipple clamps. Oh, not these. They’re vicious. Not beginner level. Beneath the clamps is a butt plug, but this one is way too big. She’s enclosed my iPod, too, which pleases me. She must like my music choices. And here’s my silver gray Brioni tie, so she wants to be tied up.
Last, as I suspected, there’s the key to my playroom.
She’s giving me the big blue eyes. “You want to play?” I ask, my voice soft and husky.
“Yes.”
“For my birthday?”
“Yes.” Her agreement is barely audible.
Is she doing this because she thinks I want to? Is what we do not enough for her? Am I ready for this?
“You’re sure?” I prompt.
“Not the whips and stuff.”
“I understand that.”
“Yes, then. I’m sure.”
She confounds me. Every day. I stare down at the contents of the box. Sometimes she’s just bewildering. “Sex-mad and insatiable,” I mutter. “Well, I think we can do something with this lot.”
If this is what she wants—and her words come back to me in a swirl. She’s asked me and asked me and asked me.
I like your kinky fuckery.
If I win, Christian, you’ll take me back into the playroom.
Red Room, here we come.
I want a demonstration. I like being tied up.
I place the items back in the box.
We could have some fun.
And that spark of anticipation flares and ignites in my gut. I haven’t felt it since we did our last scene in the playroom. I regard her through narrowed eyes and hold out my hand. “Now,” I state. I’ll see how willing she really is.
She puts her hand in mine.
Okay, then, we’re doing this.
“Come.” I have a million things to do since yesterday’s crash landing, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s my birthday and I’m going to have some fun with my fiancée.
Outside the playroom, I pause. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Anything you don’t want to do?”
She’s thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t want you to take photos of me.”
Why the hell would she say that? Why would I want to take pictures of her?
Grey. Of course you would, if she’d let you.
“Okay,” I agree, concerned about what has motivated this question. Does she know? That’s impossible.
I unlock the door, feeling apprehensive and excited at once—like the first time I brought her in here. I usher her in and close the door.
For the first time since she left me, the room is welcoming.
I can do this.
Placing the gift box on the chest of drawers, I remove the iPod, place it in its dock, and set the Bose sound system so the track plays over the speakers. Eurythmics. Yes. This song came out the year before I was born. It has a seductive beat. I love it. Yeah, I think Ana will like it. Setting it to repeat, I hear the track begin. It’s a little loud so I lower the volume a tad.
When I turn to her, she’s in the middle of the room, watching me, a hungry, wanton expression on her face. Her teeth are toying with her lower lip, and her hips are swinging in time to the beat of the music.