Meeting Ana - Chapters 1-3

Meeting Ana

Chapter One

Christian

RUIN was a mixture of darkness, shadows, and blaring music. I walked through the crowd, feeling intense eyes settle on me as I migrated toward the bar. My face was recognizable because I didn’t wear a mask.

           

But that wasn’t necessary here.

It was the only BDSM club where I could show my face. Everyone here kept their sights and thoughts to themselves. When people looked at the women dressed in leather and chains, and the men with their whips, no one said a damn thing.

And all secrets remained in RUIN.

I reached the bar and spotted Jackson manning the booze.

He looked at me, instantly recognizing me in my black suit. “Cal is in the office.” He answered my unspoken question.

I just gave him a nod.

I headed to the back of the club on the second floor. When I passed a group of women, they immediately gave me the eye. I was clearly a Dom without a sub. It was obvious to anyone who existed in this universe.

I knocked before I walked inside Cal’s office.

Calloway Owens sat at his pitch black desk, a tinted window right behind him. It overlooked the alleyway and the adjacent building. On the ground, against the building, were two people going at it, unable to wait until they got home after paying RUIN a visit.

He was reading something on his iPad when he noticed me. “Christian.”

“Calloway.” I slid into the armchair facing his desk.

“How’s Leila?”

“Gone.” I crossed my legs and stared at the hard features of his face. He had a strong jaw just like his late father, and his crystal blue eyes were unnerving in their clearness.

“Sorry to hear that.”

           

I held his gaze and didn’t say a word. All good things came to an end, and what Leila and I had was over. Women came and went, and in their eyes, men like me came and went as well. “Don’t be.”

“Looking for someone new, then?”

“I suppose.”

           

Calloway tossed his iPad on the desk and stared me down. “Isabella might know someone.”

Isabella was his current submissive. It was the longest Dom-sub relationship he’d ever had, and he wore the ring of obsidian to show their exclusivity. Personally, I’d never worn such a ring. “I’m sure I’ll find someone when I’m meant to.”

“So, what brings you here?” Calloway wasn’t one for small talk. He was usually right to the point, probably why the two of us got along so well.

He owned and operated a non-profit company in the city. Its goals were to aid people in need, particularly within the community. Together, we’d organized food drives domestically as well as overseas. He and I were both creatures of the dark with our rules and fetishes, but we were also white knights—sometimes. “Want to talk to you about our Food Network project.”

           

“And?”

“That’s it, Cal.”

“Interesting that you chose to come to RUIN at this time of night if all you want to discuss is business.” He gave me that knowing look, calling bullshit on my excuse. “I think you have an ulterior motive.”

I didn’t argue against his accusation. “Have any playrooms available for the night?”

He grinned from ear-to-ear, showing his straight teeth and million-dollar smile. “You know I do.”

***

The playroom was dark, a single large bed in the center of the room. Cable ties sprinkled the dresser in the corner, and leather bindings hung from the ceiling to suspend someone a few feet in front of the bed.

I took a seat in the corner and watched the action.

“On your knees.” Calloway made the demand without raising his voice, his tone impossible to challenge.

Isabella did as she was commanded. She fell to her knees on the ground, her hair in a braid over one shoulder. She stared at the floor and remained silent, taking her obedient position without a single thought in her mind.

Calloway removed his jacket and tossed it on the nearby dresser. Then he undid all the buttons of his gray collared shirt until it came loose. He tossed it on top of his jacket, standing shirtless with the muscles of a man who devoted his life to physical perfection.

He grabbed a whip from the display case then ran it across her shoulders, from one end to the other. The leather moved across her skin, slowly and seductively. He suddenly gave her a quick tap just above her ass.

She released a quiet moan, restraining herself from calling out his name from that simple touch. She wanted more. She wanted more pain, more touches. But she didn’t ask for any because she wasn’t allowed to.

Calloway swatted her again, hitting her right above her crack.

She moaned again, her head down and her hands resting on her thighs.

“Head down.” Calloway’s authority rang through the air. “Ass up.”

Like an animal, she morphed her body. Her ass was on display for me to see, and she didn’t seem to care that a stranger watched her. Her pussy was slick and wet, ready for him whenever he chose to take her.

Calloway swatted her hard on the ass, immediately making the skin redden.

She hissed between her teeth.

He rubbed the leather against the skin gently, comforting her. “Count to ten, Isabella. And that last one didn’t count.” Without warning, he struck her hard.

She hissed between her teeth again. “One.”

Another swat to her right cheek.

“Two.” She moaned and cried out at the same time.

The skin became redder. Calloway struck her again, this time harder.

She moaned into the ground.

“Count,” he demanded.

She spoke the number immediately. “Three.”

He changed the whip to the other cheek, showing her some mercy.

“Four,” she breathed.

He tapped the leather against her reddening skin.

“Five.”

I watched the interaction, missing the high of control. I missed holding that whip and making commands. I missed having a submissive bow to me, allowing me to do whatever I wished. Watching Calloway wasn’t the same as the real thing, but it was better than nothing.

“Six.” She clenched her hips once he hit her again. “Seven.”

For the last three, he struck her hard. Each slap was nearly brutal.

“Eight.” She whimpered with both pain and pleasure. “Nine…”

He rubbed the leather against her ass before he whipped her harder than ever, making the last one count.

This time she screamed. “Ten.”

He spun the whip in his hand until he held the end. Then he extended it to me. “Would you like a go, Mr. Grey?”

I eyed the whip in his hands, the need suddenly powerful and irrefutable. That red skin made my breathing irregular, and my natural dictatorship came to the surface. I grabbed the whip and stood up, feeling my spine straighten with power.

Calloway stepped to the side and yielded the floor.

Chapter Two

Christian

Andrea’s voice came into the intercom. “Calloway Owens from Humanitarians United is here to see you, sir.”

I hit the button before I spoke. “Send him in.”

           

Calloway walked inside, looking crisp in a dark suit. A shiny watch was on his wrist, and his dress shoes were nearly as polished as my floor. He sat in the chair facing my desk, and I couldn’t help but notice that we were in opposite positions from where we were the other night.

He rested his elbows on the arm rests and interlocked his fingers together. “Had fun the other night?”

“Immensely.” I didn’t fuck his submissive because they were exclusive. His obsidian ring told me she was off-limits. But I did step into my dominance with her, making her do things to herself that I got to enjoy. I’d shared a submissive with him before in the same way—with no fucking.

“I think she enjoyed it as well.” There wasn’t jealousy in his eyes. “But I think it’s time you stepped back into the game.”

“I agree.” I was picky when it came to submissives. It usually took me a while before I found the right one. Sometimes Elena connected me with women who seemed to be the right fit. But right now, she didn’t have any recommendations.

“You know me, Christian. I’m always here to help.”

“I’ll let you know if I need any.”

He clapped his hands together once and cleared his throat. “Shall we get down to business, then?”

“Yes. But I have one more question.”

“Fire away, Mr. Grey.”

“Why are you monogamous with Isabella if you don’t mind sharing her?” I wasn’t the jealous type, but I didn’t like sharing my partners with other men, unless they were one-time events. When a submissive was mine, I wanted to be the only one to enjoy her. That kind of possessiveness was rare in my world—extremely. Calloway knew that.

He took his time before he answered the question. “We go way back, Christian. I guess that’s why.”

That still didn’t answer my question, but that was all he would give me. “Let’s start with the first quarter reports.”

“Alright.”

***

After work, I went across the street to the coffee shop. Taylor or Andrea normally attended to my mediocre requests, but I needed some fresh air. The surge of control I felt the other night made me feel whole once more. But once it was gone, I was lost again.

I knew I needed a new submissive. It’d been three months since Leila. It was time for me to move on.

I entered the coffee shop and stood in line, hearing the bell ring overhead once the door opened. Like always, I examined my surroundings to detect unforeseen threats. Most of the people sitting at the tables were college kids with their laptops. But I spotted one unusual sight.

In the corner table was a woman with dark brown hair that reached past her shoulders. She had a pen in her mouth and she was biting on it as she read her computer screen. Her blue eyes scanned back and forth as she read the words.

Those plump lips looked delectable, absolutely delicious.

When she pulled the pen out of her mouth, she took some notes on her notepad. But then she bit her lip with the absence of the pen.

And that got me hard.

Harder than I was the other night with Isabella.

I ordered my coffee then walked to one of the tables. Taking a seat so we were in line with each other’s sight, I sat there and sipped my drink. I’d never done something like this before. I never went out of my way to talk to a woman that I didn’t know anything about. She wore a baggy gray sweater and old jeans, looking like she just finished working outside. But somehow, she looked beautiful despite all the things working against her.

I drank my coffee and crossed my legs, wondering if and when she would notice me.

And then she did.

She looked up from her computer when she felt my hot stare on her face. Her blue eyes found mine, and they immediately flinched when we made eye contact. She looked away and pretended to read her computer screen.

But then she snuck another peek at me.

And I was still watching her.

Her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, contrasting against her fair skin. Nervous or aroused, she bit her lip again.

I was gonna bite that lip eventually.

She grew flustered and shifted her weight in her seat several times. She didn’t take notes like she did before because she was obviously nervous—terrified. My simple gaze put her on display, and she didn’t like the attention one bit.

Interesting.

I ignored the protests coming from deep inside me and moved from my table to hers. I dropped into the chair across from her and set my coffee down. I could easily see over her computer, studying all the features of her face, including the tiny freckles that sprinkled her nose. “Christian Grey.” I didn’t extend my hand to shake hers. The computer was still between us.

“Uh…hi.” She moved her laptop to the side rather than closing it, and since she wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing, she nearly knocked it off. It tipped over the edge and spiraled toward the ground.

Since I knew it was about to happen, I grabbed it and placed it back on the table. This time, I closed the screen.

She gave me the same nervous expression.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

It took her several seconds to recover from her embarrassment. “Ana.”

“Ana, what?”

“Steel.”

“Is Ana short for something?”

“Anastasia.”

I would love to say that name while I fucked her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia.”

“Everyone calls me Ana.”

I’m not everyone. I glanced at her notepad and read the notes she took. “Applying for a job?”

“I just moved here last week,” she explained. “I just graduated from college.”

She was younger than me by a few years. That was okay. Age didn’t matter to me. “What’s your discipline?”

“English. I want to go into publishing.”

I nodded in understanding. “We have a great intern program at Grey House.”

“Thank you,” she said in surprise. “But I could never accept.”

“Why not?”

She never gave an answer. It was clear she knew who I was because she didn’t ask about Grey House. She didn’t ask me how I could get her an internship. It wasn’t clear if she recognized me by face or by name.

She suddenly packed her stuff away in her bag, like leaving her items out gave up critical information about herself. “I’m a fan of your company and all the humanitarian work you’ve done. My friend Kate interviewed you for our school newspaper a few months ago.”

I distantly recalled the blonde who came into my office about three months earlier. I couldn’t remember her features well because I didn’t care about them. She was blonde, and I never cared for blondes. “What a small world.”

“She said you were very polite…and intimidating.”

I like to be intimidating. “And she was very nice. Had a lot of great questions for me—except when she asked if I were gay.”

Anastasia tried to hide the chuckle she involuntarily made. Her cheeks blushed all over again.

“And of course, I told her I wasn’t.” I wanted this sexy creature to understand that perfectly well.

“I still can’t believe she asked that.”

“I admire her audacity. Just not sure where it’s going to get her in life.”

“I’m not sure either,” she said quietly. Her gaze locked on mine again, and she fell quiet as the tension rose between us. She was skittish and wary, like a submissive looking for a command. She was shy, needing a man to give her direction. She was perfect in every way—especially that pale skin that could turn red so quickly. “Anastasia, will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Her skin paled at the question, like she hadn’t been expecting it whatsoever. “Me?”

“Yes. You.” I stared her down harder, wishing I could grab her right then and there.

“I…uh.” She searched for a response but couldn’t think of one.

I knew she wanted to see me again. She bit her lip so many times now that it was a dead giveaway. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“You don’t have my address.”

I searched her blue eyes and pictured them bubbling with small tears as I reddened her ass with my palm. “I don’t need it.”

Chapter Three

Christian

I arrived at her small apartment dressed in the gray suit and tie. I intended to take her to one of my favorite places downtown, a restaurant with enormous booths that were perfect for privacy.

She answered the door in a black dress with a light jacket. It was better than what she wore the day before, but her clothes didn’t really matter. Those eyes, that skin, and those lips made her breathtaking.

           

I couldn’t wait until the end of the night.

“You look beautiful.”

Right on cue, her cheeks blushed. “Thank you…”

I extended my arm so she could take it. As soon as she did, Kate’s face appeared in the doorway.

“Hello, Mr. Grey.” She had the same spunk as she did before and a smile that wouldn’t quit.

“Hello, Miss Kavanagh.” Her interview with me at Grey House had been ordinary. She asked the same kind of questions everyone else asked, nothing particularly interesting. But she did blurt out a question no one else ever had the balls—or stupidity—to ask.

She eyed Ana with motherly affection, like she planned to interrogate her the second the date was over.

I hoped it wouldn’t be tonight.

***

Ana didn’t seem particularly knowledgeable about wine, so I ordered a bottle for the table. Deep red and dry, it paired perfectly with nearly anything on the menu. Glasses of water sat on the table next to our plates at the booth in the corner. The lights were dim and the candles burned low.

She sat across from me, as tense as she was in the coffee house. When her eyes landed on mine, her need was obvious in the look. Her lips were full and desperate to be kissed, and she bit them far too many times than a normal woman should.

If she didn’t want to be bitten.

I didn’t ask too many questions about her personally. I’d gotten all the necessary information from Taylor. I knew where she went to school, that she grew up with her mother, and her stepfather was the closest thing to a father she’d ever had. She was a smart woman, graduating with a perfect GPA. Withdrawn and quiet, she hid a whole world of information behind those beautiful eyes.

I wanted to know everything about her.

I wanted to know where she liked to be kissed. I wanted to know how she tasted—how every inch of her tasted. I wanted to use my cable ties on her wrists and suspend her from the ceiling, tie her to my headboard, and make her mine in every way possible. I wanted the leather from my whip to bite that pale skin, making it red with discomfort.

Now I wasn’t sure if I could get through dinner.

“How’s the job search?” It was one of the few things I finally asked her. Honestly, I just wanted to see her lips move.

“Good. I applied for a few positions today. I hope I get something soon.”

           

With a GPA like hers, I doubted it would be too difficult.

“I love Kate, but I don’t want a roommate forever.”

I’d prefer it if she lived alone as well.

“How’s work?” She didn’t phrase the question with much confidence, like asking me about my empire was somehow rude.

“Good. I had a few meetings. Nothing too interesting.”

She broke off a piece of bread and popped it into her mouth. The woman hardly ate anything. Most of her food was untouched. I would normally assume she was nervous, but since her frame was so slender, it was obvious she didn’t eat much regularly.

Annoying.

“Do you have family here?” she asked.

“My parents are in Escala. My brother Elliot is as well. Mia is in Paris right now.”

“Is that your sister?”

           

I nodded.

“Must be nice to see them regularly. I miss my mom sometimes. But there’s no way I could live with her. Much too hot.”

And that was too far away from me. “Anastasia, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Call me Ana.”

I narrowed my eyes in irritation when she didn’t answer my question right away. Stating the way she wanted to be addressed seemed more important than giving me the information I needed. “Ana, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.” She chuckled like the question was absurd.

That was the answer I was hoping for. Since she was having dinner with me at this very moment, I could only assume she was available. “I don’t see the humor in the question.”

“I haven’t dated anyone in a long time.”

Even better.

She nibbled on her bread again, avoiding eye contact with me.

“Look at me.”

She immediately looked up, responding to the command.

Fuck, she was perfect. That immediate response made all the muscles in my forearms tense. I could already picture her suspended from the ceiling while I stood underneath her.

Instead of saying a word, I just looked at her. With the thirteen women before her, I’d never had a woman so perfect. Ana’s natural shyness, her innate ability to yield the floor to me, made her abundantly perfect. I could imagine her as my submissive, the most talented one I’ve ever had in the playroom. I didn’t need to see her again to know what I wanted. I didn’t need to ask her a plethora of questions to know she was what I needed.

I just knew.

***

“Thank you for dinner.”

Even though you didn’t eat much of it. “You’re welcome, Miss Steele.”

           

She walked beside me, her arm tucked in mine. “You actually remember my last name?”

“I remember everything you’ve told me.” We arrived at the car and Taylor opened the door so we could sit in the back seat. I sat beside her against the window. While my hand ached to wrap around hers, I didn’t touch her.

“Where to, Mr. Grey?” Taylor asked from the front seat.

“RUIN.”

“Of course.” Taylor hit the button on the ceiling, and the divider rolled up until we were given our privacy.

Ana looked at me, but she didn’t ask the question that burned behind her eyes.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

She held my gaze, her eyes so bright they were nearly blinding.

I gave in to the desire and grabbed her hand, feeling the warmth of our fingers the second we touched. Hers were slender and long, the kind I wouldn’t want on my body. Feeling her touch in my hand was enough. But anything beyond that would be too difficult.

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