[disclaimer: I don’t own any of the gifs/images used in this post (or any other for that matter). If you see a gif that you created and would either like credit for it or would like it taken down, please let me know.]
So then Christian starts asking Ana what she’s doing the rest of the week, probably so he can make plans to cook her and eat her eyeballs, and she says that she’s working a lot and also is moving to Seattle with Kate in the next week, and is moving to a place that apparently isn’t far from Christian, which is awfully convenient.
Christian asks her what she’s doing for a job once she moves, and she says she’s applied to some internships but hasn’t heard back yet, and then he creepily asks if she applied to work at his company, which doesn’t make sense because she’s an English major so why would she get a job working as a secretary at some place that has nothing to do with what she wants to do, but whatever. She didn’t apply to work at his company so it’s all good.
“And what’s wrong with my company?”
“Your company or your Company?” I smirk.
THAT WAS A TERRIBLE JOKE, ANA. GO HOME.
He smiles slightly.
“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?” He cocks his head to one side, and I think he looks amused, but it’s hard to tell. I flush and glance down at my unfinished breakfast. I can’t look him in the eye when he uses that tone of voice.
“I’d like to bite that lip,” he whispers darkly.
Oh my. I am completely unaware that I am chewing on my bottom lip.
Ugh. I want to vomit.
Ana, however, does not have the same reaction.
My mouth pops open as I gasp and swallow at the same time. That has to be the sexiest thing anybody has ever said to me. My heart beat spikes, and I think I’m panting. Jeez, I’m a quivering, moist mess, and he hasn’t even touched me. I squirm in my seat and meet his dark glare.
Blehhh the word moist is repulsive. This whole paragraph is repulsive. I’ve seen 13 year olds write better porn. I’ve WRITTEN better porn when I was 13! And nothing sexy has even happened yet! Ugh.
“Why don’t you?” I challenge quietly.
“Because I’m not going to touch you, Anastasia – not until I have your written consent to do so.” His lips hint at a smile.
I…I guess that’s one way to prevent rape? Kind of? Except she could still change her mind and say no and all the written consent in the world doesn’t make it okay to have sex with her.
This is getting creepier and creepier as the pages go on.
So then he refuses to tell her what that’s all about, and proposes a special dinner date that night or another night at his place, where he’ll then “acquaint her with the facts.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?” I sound petulant.
“Because I’m enjoying my breakfast and your company. Once you’re enlightened, you probably won’t want to see me again.”
BECAUSE HE’S A MURDERER.
Holy shit. What does that mean? Does he white-slave small children to some God-forsaken part of the planet? Is he part of some underworld crime syndicate? It would explain why he’s so rich. Is he deeply religious? Is he impotent?
God this book would be so much better if he was actually a murderer.
They decide to have the dinner/meeting/murder/whatever tonight, and Christian makes a series of cryptic phone calls to some more of his body guards. We then find out that he’s making these phone calls so that one of his men will bring his goddamned helicopter down from Seattle so he can fly Ana from Portland to Seattle, because he’s a goddamned billionaire. Jesus. H. Christ.
Then Christian gets all weird because Ana hasn’t finished the food on her plate (god forbid she isn’t hungry). He says he has a problem with “wasted food,” whatever that means. He’s probably saying that because the bacon on her plate is made of people and he wants to get rid of the evidence.
And THEN we find out that they slept in the same bed last night, which is SUPER FUCKING CREEPY because I’m sure there were other sleeping options available. He could have had her sleep on the couch, or he could have slept on the couch, or on the floor, or ANYWHERE ELSE.
Instead he slept next to her in bed, which apparently he’s never done before in his life.
He is seriously the biggest fucking creepshow ever.
Ana then goes and blow dries her hair, and then heads to the bathroom.
I want to clean my teeth. I eye Christian’s toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth. Hmm…Glancing guiltily over my shoulder at the door, I feel the bristles on the toothbrush. They are damp. He must have used it already. Grabbing it quickly, I squirt toothpaste on it and brush my teeth in double-quick time. I feel so naughty. It’s such a thrill.
I TAKE IT BACK. YOU DESERVE EACH OTHER.
Jesus, why don’t you stick the toothbrush in your vagina while you’re at it.
Is this an actual thing that people think? That toothbrushes are somehow erotic? I mean, I know I’ve never looked at a toothbrush and thought it would be like having them inside me, but maybe I’m alone in that?
Ugh. You two are weird-ass motherfuckers.
And then they leave his hotel room and get in the elevator.
My breathing alters as my heart races. His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bite my lip.
“Oh, fuck the paperwork,” he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, he’s got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip above my head, and he’s pinning me to the wall using his hips. Holy shit. His other hand grabs my ponytail and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. It’s only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this. My tongue tentatively strokes his and joins his in a slow erotic dance that’s all about touch and sensation, all bump and grind.
Okay, see, here’s the thing. That was actually really hot for like, 3 sentences, and then the tongue thing started happening, and my boner died a quick death as soon as she said their tongues were doing a “slow erotic dance.”
Also, lol, bump and grind.
[I hope the video works, if not, here’s the link: Bump and Grind]
So their super gross tongue-dance is interrupted by some businessmen who get on the elevator (thank god). And then they get off the elevator and into the lobby.
“What is it about elevators?” he mutters, more to himself than to me as he strides across the lobby. I struggle to keep pace with him because my wits have been thoroughly, royally, scattered all over the floor and walls of elevator three in the Heathman Hotel.
Is it bad that I sort of wish her brains had been scattered all over the floor and walls of elevator three?
-End of Chapter 5-
Well then. Finally some sexy things are happening, but we really wish they weren’t. I’m almost excited to see how bad these sex scenes get as the book progresses.
See you on Monday!