I will fuck you, any time, any way, I want – anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because

you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you’ve not done this before.

Initially, we’ll take it slowly, and I will help you. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I

want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The “or otherwise”

– again it’s to help you get into the mindset, it means anything goes.”

He’s so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is… I

can’t take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.

“Still with me?” he whispers, his voice rich, warm and seductive. He takes a sip of his

wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.

The waiter comes to the door, and Christian subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear

our table.

“Would you like some more wine?”

“I have to drive.”

“Some water then?”

I nod.

“Still or sparkling?”

“Sparkling, please.”

The waiter leaves.

“You’re very quiet,” Christian whispers.

“You’re very verbose.”

He smiles.

“Discipline. There’s a very fine line between pleasure and pain Anastasia. They are

two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how plea-

surable pain can be. You don’t believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There

will be pain, but nothing that you can’t handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Doyou

trust me, Ana?”

Ana!

“Yes, I do.” I respond spontaneously, not thinking… because it’s true – I dotrust him.

“Well then,” he looks relieved. “The rest of this stuff is just details.”

“Important details.”

“Okay, let’s talk through those.”

My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Kate’s mini disc

player so I can listen back to this. There is so much information, so much to process. The

waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hol-

landaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.

“I hope you like fish,” Christian says mildly.

I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently

wish it was wine.

“The rules. Let’s talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?”

“Yes.”

“Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?”

“No.” I am so not backing down on this. No one is going to dictate to me what I eat.

How I fuck, yes, but eat… no, no way.

He purses his lips.

“I need to know that you’re not hungry.”

I frown. Why?

“You’ll have to trust me.”

He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes.

“Touché, Miss Steele,” he says quietly. “I concede the food and the sleep.”

“Why can’t I look at you?”

“That’s a Dom/sub thing. You’ll get used to it.”

Will I?

“Why can’t I touch you?”

“Because you can’t.”

His mouth sets in a mulish line.

“Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?”

He looks quizzically at me.

“Why would you think that?” And immediately he understands. “You think she trau-

matized me?”

I nod.

“No Anastasia. She’s not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t take any of

that shit from me.”

Oh… but I have to.I pout.

“So nothing to do with her.”

“No. And I don’t want you touching yourself, either.”

What?Ah yes, the no masturbation clause.

“Out of curiosity… why?”

“Because I want all your pleasure,” his voice is husky, but determined.

Oh… I have no answer for that. On one level it’s up there with, ‘I want to bite that lip’,

on another, it’s so selfish. I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what

concessions I’ve gained. The food, the sleep, I can look him in the eye. He’s going to take

it slow, and we haven’t discussed soft limits. But I’m not sure I can face that over food.

“I’ve given you a great deal to think about haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?”

“Not over dinner.”

He smiles.

“Squeamish?”

“Something like that.”

“You’ve not eaten very much.”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no

olives, and you’ve not eaten all day. You said I could trust you.”

Jeez. He’s kept an inventory.

“Christian, please, it’s not every day I sit through conversations like this.”

“I need you fit and healthy Anastasia.”

“I know.”

“And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress.”

I swallow. Peel me out of Kate’s dress.I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that

I’m now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can’t have this. His most potent

weapon, used against me again. He’s so good at sex – even I’ve figured this out.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I murmur quietly. “We haven’t had dessert.”

“You want dessert?” he snorts.

“Yes.”

“You could be dessert,” he murmurs suggestively.

“I’m not sure I’m sweet enough.”

“Anastasia, you’re deliciously sweet. I know.”

“Christian. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn’t fair,” I whisper, staring down at my

hands, and then looking directly at him. He raises his eyebrows, surprised, and I see he’s

considering my words. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.

“You’re right. I do. In life you use what you know, Anastasia. Doesn’t change how

much I want you. Here. Now.”

How can he seduce me solely with his voice? I’m panting already – my heated blood

rushing through my veins, my nerves tingling.

“I’d like to try something,” he breathes.

I frown. He’s just given me a shit load of ideas to process and now this.

“If you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about this. It would be easy.” His

voice is soft, seductive. “All those decisions – all the wearying thought processes behind

them. The – is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now?

You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that detail. That’s what I’d do as your Dom. And

right now, I know you want me, Anastasia.”

My frown deepens. How can he tell?

“I can tell because… ”

Holy shit he’s answering my unspoken question. Is he psychic as well?

“… Your body gives you away. You’re pressing your thighs together, you’re flushed,

and your breathing has changed.”

O, this is too much.

“How do you know about my thighs?” My voice is low, disbelieving. They’re under

the table for heaven’s sake.

“I felt the tablecloth move, and it’s a calculated guess based on years of experience.

I’m right aren’t I?”

I flush and stare down at my hands. That’s what I’m hindered by in this game of se-

duction. He’s the only one who knows and understands the rules. I’m just too naïve and

inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Kate, and she doesn’t take any shit from

men. My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennett would be outraged, Jane Eyre

too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have.

“I haven’t finished my cod.”

“You’d prefer cold cod to me?”

My head jerks up to glare at him, and his gray eyes burn molten silver, with compel-

ling need.

“I thought you liked me clearing my plate.”

“Right now, Miss Steele, I couldn’t give a fuck about your food.”

“Christian. You just don’t fight fair.”

“I know. I never have.”

My inner goddess frowns at me. You can do this, she coaxes – play this sex god at his

own game. Can I?Okay. What to do? My inexperience is an albatross around my neck.