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So Ana tells Christian that no one has really interested her, and that’s how she’s “avoided” sex or whatever.
“Why are you so angry with me?” I whisper.
SPEAK UP, MOTHERFUCKER. YOU HAVEN’T SAID ANYTHING ABOVE A MUMBLE THIS ENTIRE GODDAMNED BOOK.
“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with myself. I just assumed…” He sighs.
Well at least Christian’s anger is directed at the right place. I still don’t understand why he just assumed she’d had sex. Apparently in his mind if you’re pretty you’ve had sex. Which is a whole lot of bullshit, but this whole book is bullshit, so it’s like a bullshit needle in a giant dumptruck of bullshit.
So then Christian asks if Ana wants to go, and she’s all “No, unless you want me too,” because already she’s decided that it’s not about what SHE wants, it’s about what HE wants.
So much rage.
“Come,” he murmurs.
“We’re going to rectify the situation right now.”
“What do you mean? What situation?”
“Your situation. Ana, I’m going to make love to you, now.”
First of all
WHO THE FUCK TALKS LIKE THAT.
“Come, let us rectify the situation regarding your virginity, which I have deemed unsuitable for someone of your pulchritude.”
[See, E.L.? I can use a thesaurus too.]
SECOND OF ALL.
“I thought you didn’t make love. I thought you fucked hard.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.
I assume by “down there” she means Australia, because I would imagine that if you think you’re ready to have sex with someone you should be able to refer to your goddamned vagina by name. Vagina. Pussy. Even “between my legs” or something like it would work. You could use clunge, I hear that’s a word that refers to vagina, albeit a gross word.
If you can’t even call your vagina a vagina, maybe you shouldn’t have sex. If you’re so ashamed of your own body that you can’t even name parts of it in your own head, there is something wrong.
Vaginas are pretty great! Get to know yours! Make friends with the vagina! Taste the vagina! Date the vagina! BE THE VAGINA.
“I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we’ll see. I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me. I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea what you’re getting yourself into. We can start your training tonight – with the basics. This doesn’t mean I’ve come over all hearts and flowers, it’s a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do, too.”
Christian Grey: Literally the most unromantic being on the goddamned planet.
That’s all I can think of.
Ugh and then Ana blushes because she’s just a fucking blush factory.
I was going to try and pay attention to the drinking game rules and tell you guys when to drink, but I’m honestly so repulsed by this whole ridiculous chapter that I keep forgetting.
So then Christian gets up and holds Ana against him because he’s trying to convince her to have sex with him tonight.
He runs his fingers round the nape of my neck, winds my ponytail around his wrist, and gently pulls so I’m forced to look up at him. He gazes down at me.
“You are one brave young woman,” he whispers. “I am in awe of you.”
HOW IS SHE BRAVE.
SHE’S SPOKEN UP AGAINST YOU MAYBE TWICE IN THIS WHOLE FUCKING BOOK. IS SHE BRAVE BECAUSE SHE’S STILL STANDING THERE DISCUSSING YOUR KINKY SHIT? THAT’S NOT BRAVE. SHE’S PROBABLY TOO SCARED TO LEAVE BECAUSE YOU’RE A GODDAMNED MURDERER.
I SWEAR TO GOD YOU ARE THE BIGGEST PILE OF FUCKS I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED IN LITERATURE.
“Please, Ana, let me make love to you.”
“Yes,” I whisper, because that’s why I’m here.
I knew she was going to say yes. That doesn’t mean I like it, but I knew it.
Get ready to puke, everybody.