Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 152

Even when I said we didn’t need them.

“I’m glad you did,” I mutter.

“Really?” She doesn’t believe me.

I try to smile at her. “Yes. I don’t want to hurt you. I got carried away.” I kiss her. “Lost in the moment.” I kiss her again. “Happens a lot with you.”

Her face brightens with a grin.

It’s catching. “I don’t know why you’re grinning, Mrs. Grey.”

“Me neither.”

I embrace her, holding her close, and place my head on her chest. She strokes my naked back with one hand and runs her fingers through my hair with the other. And I crave her touch.

“It means I can trust you, to stop me. I never want to hurt you,” I confess. “I need—”

Tell her, Grey.

“You need what?”

“I need control, Ana. Like I need you. It’s the only way I can function. I can’t let go of it. I can’t. I’ve tried. And yet, with you…” I shake my head in exasperation.

“I need you, too,” she says, hugging me tighter. “I’ll try, Christian. I’ll try to be more considerate.”

“I want you to need me.”

“I do!” she says emphatically.

“I want to look after you.”

“You do. All the time. I missed you so much while you were away.”

“You did?”

“Yes, of course. I hate you going away.”

I smile. “You could have come with me.”

“Christian, please. Let’s not rehash that argument. I want to work.”

I sigh as she runs her fingers through my hair, chasing away my tension, helping me relax. “I love you, Ana.”

“I love you, too, Christian. I will always love you.”

We lie entwined in red satin, almost naked, me wearing jeans, Ana in her bra.

What a pair we are…

Her breathing evens out, she’s sleeping. I close my eyes.

Mommy is sitting on the couch. She is quiet. She looks at the wall and blinks sometimes. I stand in front of her with my cars, but she doesn’t see me. I wave and she sees me, but she waves me away. No, Maggot, not now. He comes here. He hurts Mommy. Get up, you stupid Bitch. He hurts me. I hate him. He makes me so mad. I run to my kitchen and hide under the table. Get up, you stupid Bitch. He shouts. He is loud. Mommy screams. No. I put my hands over my ears. Mommy. He comes into the kitchen with his boots and smell. Where are you, little shit? There you are. Stay here, you little prick. I’m going to fuck your bitch of a mother. I don’t want to see your fuck-ugly face for the rest of the evening. Understand? When I don’t reply, he slaps my face. Hard. My cheek stings. Or you get the burn, you little prick. No. No. I don’t like that. I don’t like the burn. It hurts. He smokes his cigarette and waves it in front of me. Do you want the burn, you little shit? Do you? He laughs. He has some teeth gone. He laughs. And laughs. I’m going to cook something for that bitch. Gonna need a spoon. Then it’s going into this. He holds an in-jec-shun up for me to see. She loves this. She loves this more than she loves you or me, you little shit. He turns away. He changes. He’s Jack Hyde and Ana lies on the floor beside him and he’s plunging the syringe into her thigh.

“No!” I bellow to the world.

“Christian, please. Wake up!”

I open my eyes. She is here. Shaking me. “Christian, you’re having a nightmare. You’re home. You’re safe.” I look around. We’re on the bed in the playroom.

“Ana!” She’s here. She’s safe. I grab her face and pull her lips to mine, seeking the comfort and solace of her mouth. She is everything wholesome in my life. My love. My light.

Ana.

Desire rockets through my body like lightning; I’m aroused. I roll us over, pressing her into the mattress.

I want her. I need her.

Holding her chin, I place my hand on her head to keep her still while I part her legs with my knee, resting my bursting dick, still clad in denim, against her sex. “Ana,” I breathe, and gaze down into her startled blue eyes. Her pupils grow bigger and darker.