Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 101

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Well, aren’t you the wanton creature? I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist.”

She sits up immediately, watchful and wary. Her fatigue, a memory. “No one’s watching, are they?” She scours the parking lot.

“Do you think I’d let anyone watch my wife come?” I stroke my hand down her back and she calms, turning around to give me a sweet playful smile.

“Car sex!” she exclaims, and her eyes flare with a sense of achievement, I think.

I grin. Yes. It’s a first for me, too, Ana. I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s head back. I’ll drive.” Leaning forward, I open the car door, and Ana clambers off my lap so I can do up my fly.

When I’m back in the driver’s seat I call our security detail.

“Mr. Grey, it’s Ryan.”

“Where’s Sawyer?” I snap.

“At Escala.”

“And the Dodge?”

“I’m following the Dodge south on I-5.”

“How come Sawyer’s not with you?”

“He thought it better to wait at Escala once we saw her—”

“Her?” I gasp.

“Yes. The driver is a woman,” says Ryan. “I was going to follow her to see if we can ID her.”

“Stick with her.”

“Will do.”

I hang up and look at Ana.

“The driver of the Dodge is female?” She sounds shocked.

“So it would appear.” I have no idea who it might be. It can’t be Elena, and surely not Leila. Not after all the work that Flynn has put in with her. “Let’s get you home.”

The R8 growls to life, and I reverse out of the space and head home.

“Where’s the, um, unsub? What does that mean, by the way? Sounds very BDSM.”

“It stands for unknown subject. Ryan is ex-FBI.”

“Ex-FBI?”

“Don’t ask.” That’s a long story about doing the right thing, protecting an innocent, and getting fired for it. I’ll tell her over dinner. He’s probably why we know the plates on the Dodge were false. He has extensive connections.

“Well, where is this female unsub?” Ana continues.

She shuts the door and I get out after her. She’s waiting by the trunk, looking every bit the just-fucked goddess who wants a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car.

She’s never asked me for anything.

Why is that so hot?

Leaning down, I whisper, “You like the car. I like the car. I’ve fucked you in it. Perhaps I should fuck you on it.”

She gasps and her cheeks pink in that delightful way I love. The sound of a car pulling into the garage distracts me. It’s a silver 3 Series BMW.

Cockblocker.

“But it looks like we have company. Come.” Taking her hand, I guide her to the elevator. Sadly, we have to wait and we’re joined by Mr. BMW Cockblocker. He looks my age. Maybe younger.

“Hi,” he says, with an appreciative smile aimed at my wife.

I put my arm around Ana.

Back off, bud.

“I’ve just moved in. Apartment sixteen,” he gushes at her.

“Hello,” Ana says, her tone nothing but friendly.

We’re saved by the elevator. Once inside, I keep Ana close. I glance down at her, willing her not to engage with this stranger.

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