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Christian Ana Grey

Bio Our Little Blip... “You make me forget everything. You are the best therapy,”

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image by Christian Ana Grey (@catpgrey_fs) with caption : "@dakotajohnson -  Today I wear black in solidarity with women who have experienced harassment, and to encourage all wome" - 1687327285332925477
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@dakotajohnson - Today I wear black in solidarity with women who have experienced harassment, and to encourage all women—no matter their age or profession—to know their worth, stand up for themselves, and know they are supported. @timesupnow -

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Spoiler. If you haven't read the books, do not read this. 👇 Dr. Greene wiggles the mouse on her desk, and her computer comes to life. “Yes . . . it’s been over thirteen weeks. You’re cutting it a bit close. We'd better do a test before we give you another shot.” “A test?” I whisper, all the blood rushing from my head. “A pregnancy test.” Oh, no. She reaches into the drawer of her desk. “You know what to do with this.” She hands me a small container. “The restroom is just outside my office.” I get up as if in a trance, my whole body operating as if on automatic pilot and I stumble to the restroom. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. How could I have let this happen . . . again? I suddenly feel sick and offer a silent prayer. Please no. Please no. It’s too soon. It’s too soon. It’s too soon. When I reenter Dr. Greene’s office, she gives me a tight smile and waves me to the seat in front of her desk. I sit down and wordlessly hand her my sample. She dips a small white stick into it and watches. She raises her eyebrows as it turns pale blue. “What does blue mean?” The tension is almost choking me. She looks up at me, her eyes serious. “Well, Mrs. Grey, it means you’re pregnant.” What? No. No. No. Fuck I love this girl so much 😍

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“Dance with me.” He’s still mad. “Dance. Christian, please.” I take his hands. Christian glares after the guy, but I start to move against him, weaving myself around him. The throng of dancers has circled us once more, although there’s now a two-foot exclusion zone around us. “You hit him?” Christian asks, standing stock-still. I take his fisted hands. “Of course I did. I thought it was you, but his hands were hairier. Please dance with me.” As Christian gazes at me, the fire in his eyes slowly changes, evolves into something else, something darker, something hotter. Suddenly, he grabs my wrists and pulls me flush against him, pinning my hands behind my back. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance,” he growls close to my ear, and as he rolls his hips around into me, I can do nothing but follow, his hands holding mine against my backside. Oh . . . Christian can move, really move. He keeps me close, not letting me go, but his hands gradually relax on mine, freeing me. My hands creep around, up his arms, feeling his bunched muscles through his jacket, up to his shoulders. He presses me against him, and I follow his moves as he slowly, sensually dances with me in time to the pulsing beat of the club music. The moment he grabs my hand and spins me first one way, then the other, I know he’s back with me. I grin. He grins. We dance together and it's liberating—fun. His anger forgotten, or suppressed, he whirls me around with consummate skill in our small space on the dance floor, never letting go. He makes me graceful, that’s his skill. He makes me sexy, because that’s what he is. He makes me feel loved, because in spite of his fifty shades, he has a wealth of love to give. Watching him now, enjoying himself . . . one could be forgiven for thinking he doesn’t have a care in the world. But I know his love is clouded with issues of overprotectiveness and control, but it doesn’t make me love him any less.

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You insist on defying me. What should I do about that? Learn to live with it. @Regranned from @fiftyshadesmovie - Mrs. Grey will see you now. Don’t miss in theaters February 9.

image by Christian Ana Grey (@catpgrey_fs) with caption : "“Shit, Ana!” I shout, tugging her toward me to stop her from falling in the path of an idiot cyclist
who’s flying the w" - 1652187463446691085
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“Shit, Ana!” I shout, tugging her toward me to stop her from falling in the path of an idiot cyclist who’s flying the wrong way up the street. All of a sudden she’s in my arms clutching my biceps, staring up at me. Her eyes are startled, and for the first time I notice a darker ring of blue circling her irises; they’re beautiful, more beautiful this close. Her pupils dilate and I know I could fall into her gaze and never return. She takes a deep breath. “Are you okay?” My voice sounds alien and distant, and I realize she’s touching me and I don’t care. My fingers caress her cheek. Her skin is soft and smooth, and as I brush my thumb against her lower lip, my breath catches in my throat. Her body is pressed against mine, and the feel of her breasts and her heat through my shirt is arousing. She has a fresh, wholesome fragrance that reminds me of my grandfather’s apple orchard. Closing my eyes, I inhale, committing her scent to memory. When I open them she’s still staring at me, entreating me, begging me, her eyes on my mouth. Shit. She wants me to kiss her. And I want to. Just once. Her lips are parted, ready, waiting. Her mouth felt welcoming beneath my thumb. No. No. No. Don’t do this, Grey. She’s not the girl for you. She wants hearts and flowers, and you don’t do that shit. I close my eyes to blot her out and fight the temptation, and when I open them again, my decision is made. “Anastasia,” I whisper, “you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.”

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What to say? Mine Yours Always @Regranned from @fiftyshadesmovie - The final chapter begins this Valentine’s Day. Watch the trailer (link in bio), and book tickets now: http://unvrs.al/FSFTix -