Chapter 38 (1/2)

Not from me. Not now that I’ve had you.

“How would you like your eggs?” Her tone is unexpectedly haughty. And I want to laugh out loud, but I resist.

“Thoroughly whisked and beaten,” I reply, trying and failing to sound deadpan. She attempts to hide her amusement, too, and continues her task.

Her smile is bewitching.

Hastily, I set up the placemats, wondering when I last did this for someone else.

Never.

Normally over the weekend my submissive would take care of all domestic tasks.

Not today, Grey, because she’s not your submissive…yet.

I pour us both orange juice and put the coffee on. She doesn’t drink coffee, only tea. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please. If you have some.”

In the cupboard I find the Twinings teabags I’d asked Gail to buy.

Well, well, who would have thought I’d ever get to use them?

She frowns when she sees them. “Bit of a foregone conclusion, wasn’t I?”

“Are you? I’m not sure we’ve concluded anything yet, Miss Steele,” I answer with a stern look.

And don’t talk about yourself like that.

I add her self-deprecation to the list of behaviors that will need modifying.

She avoids my gaze, busy with serving up breakfast. Two plates are placed on the placemats, then she fetches the maple syrup out of the fridge.

When she looks up at me I’m waiting for her to sit down. “Miss Steele.” I indicate where she should sit.

“Mr. Grey,” she replies, with contrived formality, and winces as she sits.

“Just how sore are you?” I’m surprised by an uneasy sense of guilt. I want to fuck her again, preferably after breakfast, but if she’s too sore that will be out of the question. Perhaps I could use her mouth this time.

The color in her face rises. “Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to,” she says tartly. “Did you wish to offer your commiserations?” Her sarcastic tone takes me by surprise. If she were mine, it would earn her a spanking at least, maybe over the kitchen counter.

“No. I wondered if we should continue your basic training.”

“Oh.” She startles.

Yes, Ana, we can have sex during the day, too. And I’d like to fill that smart mouth of yours.

I take a bite of my breakfast and close my eyes in appreciation. It tastes mighty fine. When I swallow she’s still staring at me. “Eat, Anastasia,” I order. “This is delicious, incidentally.”

She can cook, and well.

Ana takes one bite of her food, then pushes her breakfast around on her plate. I ask her to stop biting her lip. “It’s very distracting, and I happen to know you’re not wearing anything under my shirt.”

She fidgets with her teabag and the teapot, ignoring my irritation. “What sort of basic training did you have in mind?” she asks.

She’s ever-curious—let’s see how far she’ll go.

“Well, as you’re sore, I thought we could stick to oral skills.”