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Oh, Ana. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

I aim the cue ball at the red, and it sinks into the left top pocket. Then I try for the top right with the yellow. I hit the cue ball gently. It kisses the yellow, but the ball stops just short of its destination.

Shit. Miss.

Ana grins at me. “Red Room, here we come,” she crows.

I like your kinky fuckery.

She really does.

It’s confusing. I signal to her to continue, knowing that I don’t want to take her to the playroom. The last time we were there, she left me.

She pockets the green stripe. She gives me a triumphant smile and sinks the orange.

“Name your pocket,” I mutter.

“Top left-hand,” she says as she wiggles her ass in front of me. She takes the shot and the black skirts wide of its target.

Oh, joy.

Quickly I dispatch the remaining two solids, and now I’m left with the black. I chalk my cue, gazing at Ana. “If I win, I am going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table.”

Her lips part.

Yes. She’s excited by the idea. That’s what she’s been asking me for all day. She thinks I’ve lost my edge?

Well, we’ll see.

“Top right,” I announce, and bend to take the shot. My cue taps the white and it sails up the table and pecks the black, which rolls toward the top-right pocket. It balances on the edge for a moment, and I stop breathing until it drops with a satisfying clunk into its goal.

Yes!

Anastasia Steele, you are mine.

I swagger over to where she stands with her mouth open, looking a little crestfallen. “You’re not going to be a sore loser, are you?” I ask.

“Depends how hard you spank me,” she murmurs. Taking the cue from her, I place it on the table, hook my finger into the top of her blouse, and tug so she steps toward me.

“Well, let’s count your misdemeanors, Miss Steele.” Holding up my fingers, I number her misdeeds. “One, making me jealous of my own staff.” Her eyes widen. “Two, arguing with me about working. And three, waving your delectable derrière at me for the last twenty minutes.”

Leaning down, I rub my nose against hers. “I want you to take your jeans and this very fetching shirt off. Now.” I kiss her gently on her lips, stroll over to the library door, and lock it.

When I turn, she’s frozen to the spot. “Clothes, Anastasia. You appear to still be wearing them. Take them off, or I will do it for you.”

“You do it,” she breathes, and her voice is as soft as a summer breeze.

“Oh, Miss Steele. It’s a dirty job, but I think I can rise to the challenge.”

“You normally rise to most challenges, Mr. Grey.” She bites her lip.

Innuendo from Ana.

“Why, Miss Steele, whatever do you mean?” On the library desk I spy a Perspex ruler.

Perfect.

All day long she’s been making not-so-veiled remarks about missing this side of me. Let’s see how she fares with this. I hold it up so she can see it and flex it between my hands, then slip it into my back pocket and stroll over to her.

Shoes off, I think.

I drop to my knees and undo both her Chucks, removing them and her socks. I undo the top button of her jeans and pull down her zipper. I look up at her as I slowly tug them off. Her eyes don’t leave mine. She steps out of her pants, and she’s wearing her white thong.

That thong.

I’m a fan.

So is my cock…

I grab the back of her thighs and run my nose up the front of her panties. “I want to be quite rough with you, Ana. You’ll have to tell me to stop if it’s too much,” I whisper, and through the lace plant a kiss on her clitoris.

She moans.

“Safe word?” she says.

“No, no safe word, just tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Understand?” I kiss her again and swirl my nose around the potent little bud at the apex of her thighs. I stand before I get carried away. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“You’ve been dropping hints and giving me mixed signals, Anastasia. You said you were worried I’d lost my edge. I’m not sure what you meant by that, and I don’t know how serious you were, but we are going to find out. I don’t want to go back into the playroom yet, so we can try this now, but if you don’t like it, you must promise to tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. No safe word,” she says—to reassure me, I think.

“We’re lovers, Anastasia. Lovers don’t need safe words.” I frown. “Do they?” This is something I know nothing about.

“I guess not,” she responds. “I promise.”

I need to know she will communicate with me if I go too far. Her expression is earnest and full of desire. I unbutton her shirt and let it fall open, and the sight of her breasts is arousing. Very arousing. She looks amazing. From behind her I pick up the cue.

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