Moonlight Sonata // Christian & Ana
Ana smiled a small smile to herself, her fingers curling around the luxurious fabric as she pulled the cashmere blanket carefully out of the closet, conscious of Mr. Grey’s movements around the house. She moved, light on her feet, daring to go barefoot as she made her way out across the patio. She knelt, unconsciously, as she spread the blanket out in the grass, worked out any uneven places with her fingers, then sat back on her heels.
She watched as her husband came into view, his tall form silhouetted in the moonlight. Her gaze turned downward, coming back up as he came closer to her, smiling as he kissed her cheek, warm at the suggestion of more wine. “Good choice.” She took the glass with one hand, worrying at the suede of the flogger with the other as he sat it down, her top teeth brushing over her bottom lip as she looked up at him. “Yes please, Mr. Grey.”
He loved watching her beauty from afar, her every movement stirring his want and need, and yet he tempered it slightly as he drew closer. Close, cozy and intimate was so much better, the warmth of her skin radiating like the moonlight above them. “Yes, well, I think we’ve learned not to mix our drinks.” Christian smiled, brushing Ana’s cheek with his fingertips, seeing her eye the flogger with both apprehension, and passion. “Even the best wines.”
He poured their glasses half full with the utmost precision, setting the bottle in the grass, just off the edge of the blanket, never tearing his eyes from her beautiful face. The lip bite didn’t slip past him, and his free hand gently grasped her chin. “You know what that does to me.” He said, using his thumb to pull her bottom lip free, brushing over it softly. “Oh, Ana, Ana, Ana. What am I going to do with you?”
Releasing her, he raised his glass, tapping it against hers with a soft clink as his jovial smile slowly became a salacious smirk. “To cloudless climes, and starry skies…Mrs. Grey.” His eyes slowly turned to the sky above, after his favorite Byron quote, teasingly prolonging the inevitable.
