Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 70

“What are you doing?” she squeals.

“Carrying you over the threshold.”

She giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I carry her up the plane steps, where we’re met

by Captain Stephan.

“Welcome aboard, sir. Mrs. Grey,” he greets us, with a bold grin. I set Ana down and shake his hand. Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Congratulations to you both,” he continues.

“Thank you, Stephan. Anastasia, you know Stephan. He’s our captain today, and this is First Officer

Beighley.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Beighley says to Ana.

Ana looks a little shell-shocked, but she responds in kind to them both.

“All preparations complete?” I ask Beighley.

“Yes, sir,” she replies with her usual confidence.

“We have the all clear,” Stephan informs us. “Weather is good from here to Boston.”

“Turbulence?”

“Not before Boston. There’s a weather front over Shannon that might give us a rough ride.”

“I see. Well, we hope to sleep through it all.”

“We’ll get underway, sir,” Stephan says. “We’ll leave you in the capable care of Natalia, your flight

attendant.”

Natalia?

Where’s Sara?

Natalia looks vaguely familiar.

I ignore my misgivings. “Excellent,” I say to Stephan, and taking Ana’s hand, I guide her to one of the

seats. “Sit.”

She does as she’s told, folding herself into the seat with surprising grace. I remove my jacket, undo the

buttons on my vest, and sit down opposite her.

“Welcome aboard, sir, ma’am, and congratulations,” Natalia welcomes us, poised with two crystal flutes

of pink champagne.

“Thank you.” I take both and offer one to Ana, while Natalia disappears into the galley.

“Here’s to a happy married life, Anastasia.” I raise my glass to Ana’s and we clink.

“Bollinger?” she asks.

“The same.” We’ve been drinking it for most of the afternoon.

“The first time I drank this it was out of teacups.” Her eyes have a faraway look.

“I remember that day well. Your graduation.”

What a day that was… I think spanking was involved. Hmm…and a discussion about soft and hard

limits.

I shift in my seat.

“Where are we going?” Ana drags me back to the now.

“Shannon.”

“In Ireland?” she squeaks.

“To refuel.”

“Then?” Ana’s eyes are out on stalks; her excitement is contagious.

I grin at her and say nothing, tantalizing her.

“Christian!”

I put her out of her misery. “London.”

She gasps, looking shocked and awed at once. Then her light-up-Seattle smile is back.

“Then Paris. Then the South of France,” I continue.

I think Ana is going to combust.

“I know you’ve always dreamed of going to Europe. I want to make your dreams come true, Anastasia.”

“You are my dreams come true, Christian.”

“Back at you, Mrs. Grey.” Her words warm my soul, and I take another sip of champagne. “Buckle up.”

Ana grins. I think she’s pleased. And so am I. We’re flying through the sunset to chase the dawn on the

other side of the Atlantic.

Once we’re airborne, Natalia serves us dinner. Again, I’m starving.

Why?

Getting married really takes it out of a man. Ana and I discuss our highlights of the wedding. Mine was

seeing her for the first time in her beautiful dress.

“Mine was seeing you,” Ana confesses. “And that you were there!”

“There?”

“Part of me had wondered if this was all a dream and that maybe you wouldn’t show up.”

“Ana, wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away.”

“Dessert, Mr. Grey?” Natalia asks.

I decline, and turn to study my wife. Running my finger across my bottom lip, I watch Ana, waiting for

her response.

“No, thank you,” she says to Natalia, gazing intently at me. Natalia leaves us.

Oh, sweet heaven. I’m going to claim my wife.

“Good,” I whisper. “I’d rather planned on having you for dessert.”

Ana’s eyes meet mine and darken while her teeth tease her bottom lip.

Rising from the table, I offer her my hand. “Come.” We head to the back of the cabin, away from the

galley and the cockpit. I point to a door at the far end. “There’s a bathroom here.” Passing through a

short corridor, we emerge into the aft cabin where the queen-size bed is ready for us.

I pull Ana into my arms. “I thought we’d spend our wedding night at thirty-five thousand feet. It’s

something I’ve never done before.”

Ana inhales sharply, and the sound echoes in my groin.

“But first I have to get you out of this fabulous dress.”

Her breathing deepens. She wants this, too.

“Turn around,” I whisper.

She complies instantly, and I study her updo. Each hairpin has a tiny pearl on it—they’re exquisite. Like

Ana. Gently, I start to extract each one, letting every strand of her hair fall free. My fingertips graze her

temple, her neck, her earlobe, but it’s the lightest of touches. I want to tease and tantalize the hell out

of my wife. And it’s working. She’s surreptitiously shifting her weight from foot to foot. She’s restless.

Impatient. Her breathing is louder.

She’s aroused.

Just by my touch. And for me, her response is equally arousing.

“You have such beautiful hair, Ana.” I breathe the words against her temple, enjoying her delicious

fragrance, and a soft sigh escapes her lips. When I’ve removed all the pins, I ease my fingers into her

hair and begin to slowly massage her scalp.

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