Taylor meets me as arranged. If he's at all surprised by what the 'situation' turns out to be he doesn't show it.

"It's only alcohol, no drugs involved. I don't think Miss Steele requires medical assistance, but have the details of a suitable medic on standby just in case," I instruct him.

"Yes sir."

He gets us in through the service entrance at the back and then up to the suite via the emergency staircase. He offers to carry Ana up the stairs, but I refuse because I don't want her in anyone else's arms, not even Taylor's. I can manage just fine.

As we enter the suite, I see Taylor hesitate as he is unsure where I'm going to put Ana. He's never seen a woman sleep in my bed in all the time he's worked for me. He's seen many women come and go, but they've always slept in a separate room from me.

But I head straight for my bed and gently put Ana down there. She stirs momentarily and murmurs sleepily, but doesn't start vomiting again thankfully.

She looks so young and sweet and innocent lying there, and I think I catch an expression of concern, or maybe even pity flit across Taylor's face in an unguarded moment.

"That'll be all. I'll call you if I need anything else," I say to dismiss him, and I know he understands that I've brought Miss Steele here to look after her, not to take advantage of her. That is not my way. Whatever kinky stuff I get up to in my playroom is only ever with fully consenting, sentient females. I don't need to drug women. They willingly beg me to fuck them.

Once he's left, I undo Ana's converse and take them off along with her socks. I realize they have suffered somewhat from her profuse vomiting, as have her jeans. I can't leave her in them, they're gross.

"Miss Steele, I must say this wasn't how I envisaged undressing you," I mutter as I undo the button and zip of her jeans, slide them down over her hips, and then tug them off from the bottom of the legs.

I can't help myself, I feast my eyes on her long, slim gorgeous legs that she's kept hidden away up to now. My God, they really are supermodel legs, but I'm glad she's not a model because I'd hate other men ogling her. For my eyes only, if I have my way. And I usually do.

I roll her onto her side to sleep in case she's sick again, and I see her perfect, soft, round butt encased in plain white cotton panties. Oh she deserves much nicer underwear than that. I'd really like to see her in some obscenely expensive silk and lace panties to showcase that fantastic ass.

My eyes hungrily take in the rest of her lovely figure, but I don't touch her. Not without her permission. But I can see the swell of her full breasts under her t shirt, and I can't help imagining how it would feel to cup them, caress them, suck them, fuck them... I close my eyes and swallow hard. I have to shut down this line of thought right now, so I cover her up and tuck the duvet over her securely.

I take out my Blackberry and call Taylor.

"Miss Steele's clothes need to go to the laundry. Get her some new ones for the morning. Something blue."

"Yes, sir."

I know she'll look great in blue, because of those stunning powder blue eyes of hers. I'm really looking forward to seeing those eyes in the morning. All I can see while she's sleeping are the long lashes on her cheek. They're nice to look at too. I sit in the chair by the bed and study her as she sleeps. Her face is pale and lovely, and now I've had a glimpse, I know the rest of her skin is just as peachy perfect. Her chestnut brown hair is spread out like a fan across the pillow, and I reach across to gently brush it away from her face. It feels soft and silky. Her mouth is slightly open, and I brush my thumb over that luscious bottom lip, and my breath hitches at how soft that feels too. Mm Mm, what it would be like to fuck that mouth...oh for God's sake stop it Grey. Everything about this female is soft and lovely it seems, but that fact gives me an achingly hard rock solid erection.

I find watching her breathing reassuring somehow. I don't know how long I sit there just watching her, but eventually I change into my PJ pants and get into bed too. I curl up behind her and bury my nose in her hair. She smells divine - intoxicating and sexy yet also somehow innocent. How is that possible?

~~~

I wake feeling surprisingly rested and refreshed, having slept undisturbed for several hours, I realize as I glance over at the clock. My arm is round Anastasia's waist, my leg curled over hers. Shit, if she wakes now she'll panic and think I've laid her, especially with my rock hard erection digging into her back the way it is.

Reluctantly I untangle myself from her. I gently kiss her cheek, and as she murmurs in her sleep, I'm beyond thrilled when it's my name I hear coming from her lips. I sure as hell hope she's dreaming a good dream about me, not a nightmare.

She doesn't wake yet. Hopefully her hangover won't be too bad as she should be rehydrated by the water I forced her to drink. Hmm, maybe a bad hangover would teach her a lesson about getting so stupidly drunk, but I'm guessing her vomiting experience will probably be a pretty good deterrent. The thought that it could have been the photographer's bed she found herself waking up in this morning still makes me fucking furious.

I decide I'll to head off to the hotel gym for a work out to try and dispel all these frustrating thoughts. Frustration at having Anastasia in my bed but off limits. Frustration at not teaching Jose fucking Rodriguez the lesson he deserves.

First I text Elliot.

*Tell Kate Ana OK. Hope u used protection.*

I'm surprised to get a text back almost straight away.

*Told Kate bout Ana. Used whole box condoms. So, did u get laid 2 little bro?*

I shake my head and smile at Elliot's banter. I don't bother to reply.

Before I go, I get a glass of orange juice and a couple of Advil which I'm sure Ana will appreciate when she wakes up, and leave them on the bedside table. She shouldn't be leaving or going anywhere while I'm gone because she hasn't got her clothes, but I call Taylor anyway.

"I'm heading down to the gym. Keep Miss Steele under close surveillance."

"Yes, sir. Is she er... fully recovered?"

"Still sleeping like a baby. I'll only be gone about half an hour."

"Very good sir. Miss Steele's clothes have gone to the laundry. I have her new clothes."

"I'll give them to her when I get back."

I don't want her to have them before that or she might get dressed and run. I don't want her going anywhere. I really need to talk to her. Shit, I just need to see her, period.

~~~

When I get back from the gym, I take the shopping bag of clothes for Anastasia from Taylor, who is sitting reading in the living area of the suite with the bedroom door in his direct line of sight.

"Situation unchanged re Miss Steele," Taylor reports and then makes his way out from his babysitting responsibilities.

Shit. Do I just walk in to my bedroom or do I knock? In the end I knock, but enter without waiting for a response. I really need to shower after my punishing workout in the gym.

She's awake. But when she sees me, she lies back and closes her eyes.

"Good morning Anastasia. How are you feeling?" She looks even more frail and ethereal than usual. I notice she has drunk the orange juice and taken the Advil. Good.

"Better than I deserve," she mumbles in a tiny pale voice. "How did I get here?"

It seems she's pretty embarrassed about what happened last night. So she fucking well should be, pulling a stunt like that.

I sit on the edge of the bed as I explain about bringing her here, making the excuse that it was nearer than her place and I didn't want to risk her throwing up all over my leather upholstery. Truth was I was never going to let her out of my sight in the condition she was in.

"Did you put me to bed?" Her voice is barely audible.

"Yes."

"Did I throw up again?"

"No."

"Did you undress me?"

"Yes."

"We didn't...?"

She's so horrified that she can't actually form the words to ask me outright if we fucked or not. She sits and stares at her hands, mortified.

"Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive," I tell her.

What kind of a sick bastard does she think I am? Okay, maybe I am a sick bastard a lot of the time, but only ever with women who actually want me to be and who are fully conscious and consenting.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, clearly very ashamed of herself. Good, so she should be.

"It was a very diverting evening. Not one that I'll forget in a while," I tell her truthfully with some amusement. I certainly wasn't bored, that's for sure, and boredom is my worst enemy. I get bored very easily and quickly.

"You didn't have to track me down with whatever James Bond stuff you're developing for the highest bidder," she snaps at me, having taken umbrage for some reason I can't fathom.

Whoa, hang on there just a minute young lady. I saved your delectable little ass from the attentions of that photographer fucker didn't I? Let's set the record straight here.

"Firstly, the technology to track cell phones is available over the internet. Secondly my company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices, and thirdly, if I hadn't come to get you, you'd probably be waking up in the photographer's bed, and from what I can remember, you weren't overly enthused about him pressing his suit."

I glare at her, pissed that she doesn't seem to realize the danger she put herself in. But for some reason, she seems to find what I've said funny. She bites her lip and starts laughing at me.

"Which medieval chronicle did you escape from? You sound like a courtly knight," she giggles.

The sound of her giggling makes her irresistible, and despite myself I find I'm smiling back at the frustrating woman, even though I'm still so cross with her.

"Anastasia, I don't think so. Dark knight maybe." I don't want her to be under any illusion that I'm any kind of a pure white knight. If she could read my mind and knew exactly what I want to do to her, she would certainly know that.

But we're getting side tracked. I need her to realize how irresponsible she's been.

"Did you eat last night?"

She shakes her head.

"You need to eat. That's why you were so ill. Honestly, Anastasia, it's drinking rule number one." Stupid, silly, frustrating girl.

"Are you going to continue to scold me?"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"I think so."

"You're lucky I'm just scolding you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well if you were mine, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn't eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk. I hate to think what could have happened to you."

"I would have been fine. I was with Kate." Ana scowls at me.

Unbidden pictures spring into my head of Ana struggling and begging the photographer to stop, but being held tightly in his arms. How he held her chin so that he could kiss her, and where all this would have led if I hadn't got there when I did. I imagine his greedy hands pawing her breasts, ripping her clothes off. I shake my head to dispel the disturbing images.

"And the photographer?" I remind her acidly.

"Jose just got out of line," she shrugs, seeming to have no idea of how things could so easily have turned out differently. She certainly couldn't have stopped him overpowering her, the state she was in.

"Well the next time he gets out of line, maybe someone should teach him some manners."

I'll beat the fucking shit of out him if he so much as lays a finger on her again.

"You are quite the disciplinarian," Ana hisses at me.

You have no idea how true that is. I want to see you splayed over the whipping bench to give you the whipping you deserve, make your pretty ass glow bright pink, followed by a harsh punishment fuck. Then you'd learn. Or maybe the bite of the cane, that would really bring you into line.

I like these thoughts so much that I can't help smiling at Ana as I picture her with me in my playroom. But I have to curb them for now.

"I'm going to have a shower. Unless you'd like to shower first?" Or we could shower together? From the look on Ana's face, she is having the same thought. She stares and forgets to breathe as she checks out my body. I can't help reaching across to run my thumb down her cheek and across that full, soft bottom lip of hers.

"Breathe, Anastasia," I whisper, thrilled that she feels the attraction between us just as much as I do. There is hope for us, hope that she will agree to what I want from her. But first things first. She must eat.

"Breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes. You must be famished."

Then I head into the bathroom to take my shower.

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Content Warning: The fan fiction you are reading describes adult, liberal, unconventional relationships. The characters, their personalities, occupations, relationships and events in this story are not always consistent with the original stories 'Fifty Shades of Grey' or 'Grey'. Hopefully they reflect the complexities and moral ambiguities of the original. Billed as erotica with unconventional relationships accessible to a mature audience, this story develops through consensual BDSM themed sexual encounters.

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