Happy Thanksgiving

Daylight peeks through the half-drawn curtains and I reluctantly open my eyes. Christian limbs are wrapped around my body like a vine. I smile, relishing the closeness, the warmth.

I peek at the clock on the nightstand, the red neon display reads 8:12 am. I sigh, why did I insist on having Thanksgiving Dinner here?

As carefully as I can I slide out of bed, grabbing my discarded nightie off the floor. I pull the silk garment over my head, noticing the faint red marks around my wrists.

I run fingers across the lines as the memories of last night flood my brain. Christian's idea of celebrating Thanksgiving was having me trussed up like a turkey, as he drove wildly into me from behind. I can still feel him between my legs. He is in every step I take; every movement intensifies the emptiness.

My teeth sink into my lip as I look at the man responsible for this delicious torture. He looks so peaceful laying there, the sheet barely covering him. I silently debate crawling back into bed with him. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge that we will be hosting our entire family for dinner in a few short hours.

I pad down stairs, and across to the kitchen. The penthouse is eerily quiet, though I know we aren't alone. Christian staffs 24/7 security, so even when I can't see them, I know they are there.

As I pull the turkey out of the fridge I absently wonder who got stuck with the short straw today? Gail and Taylor are off visiting her sister and Sawyer is meeting his girlfriend's family for the first time. I don't know much about the other men on Taylor team, but I make a mental note to change that.

I preheat the oven. So much has changed in the past six months, I've officially moved in with Christian, and we are in the mists off planning our wedding.

Jose's photography career has taken off, he's constantly traveling the world, getting paid outrageous amounts of money to pursue his passion.

And then there's Kate. My beautiful, head strong, and outspoken friend is now five months pregnant. Kate, the least maternal person I know, was going to be a mom and she couldn't be more excited.

I still remember the day she found out, like it was yesterday. She thought she had a stomach virus but by the third day constant nausea and vomiting I finally convinced her to go to the doctor.

She was shock for a week. She never even mentioned again. Whenever I brought up to her she looked at me like I was a crazy person. Then one day, on the rare occasion that Jose was home, she looked at us and smiled saying, I think it a girl. From that day on it's been full steam ahead with preparations for our little bundle of joy.

Pulling the turkey out of the brining bag I check the notes that Gail was nice enough to leave for me. She spent most of yesterday helping me prep for today's feast.

The next step on her list is to slather the bird with a mixture of with butter, rosemary and salt and pepper.

"That looks disgusting," Christian says as he enters the kitchen. He wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms and nothing else. The sight of his bare feet make me grin. This man is a powerful, dominating CEO. He is the face of a multi-billion dollar empire and he's here, standing before me, barefoot in the kitchen.

"Good morning to you too sunshine." I giggle.

"How's little Ana this morning?" He asks wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Deliciously sore, thank you." I say tilling my head, allowing him access to my neck. He plants a wet kiss on my throat, causing a moan to slip from my lips.

"Come back to bed, I'll kiss it and make it better." His voice oozes sex as his hand runs up my thigh.

I press my legs together, halting his progress. "Tempting, but I've gotta get the turkey in the oven."

He exhales harshly, "I told you to let Gail do all this before she left yesterday. No one would have even known the difference."

"I would have known," I say annoyed. "I want us to do this together."

"Whoa, you never said anything about me helping," He unwraps himself from me and backs away slowly.

"Not so fast Grey, I asked you about it yesterday."

"No you did not and if you did I'm sure I said no."

"Your exact words were, anything you want baby." I say in my Christian Grey constipated voice.

"And when did we have this mystery conversation?" He asks crossing his arms over his chest.

"In the morning, before we left for work," I grin, lifting the turkey into the roasting pan. I pull off two sheets of heavy duty aluminum foil and cover it completely.

I glance over my shoulder at my fiancé. I can see the wheels spinning in Christian's brain. He's silently replaying the events of yesterday morning in his mind.

He narrows his gray eyes at me, as the harsh realization sinks in. "That doesn't count."

"Yes it does. Promises were made." I say shoving past him to put the turkey in the oven.

"It doesn't count if you asked me when my dick was in your mouth." He cocks a brow at me.

"It does if you ever hope to put your dick in my mouth again," I counter.

We stand there in a ridiculous standoff. Glaring at one another for what seems like an eternity.

He squares his shoulders and his eyes darken, "Anastasia," he growls going full on Dom mode on me.

"No, that's not going to work. "I'm not budging. He's going to help me prepare a beautiful meal for our family and friends and he's going to enjoy it, even if it kills him.

"Please," he pouts. Christian Grey, my future husband, my dominant, pouting. I can't contain my amusement. I laugh so hard tears begin leaking from my eyes. "Are you really going to make me do this," he huffs.

"Yes, and I never thought I'd say this, but you might want to put on a shirt."

Five hours, three fights and one small fire later, Christian and I managed to put together a successful Thanksgiving meal.

"See it wasn't so bad, was it?" I ask him as we set the table. We've showered and change and now we are just waiting for our guests.

"Yes it was," Christian replies dryly. "But it's ok, because I'm going to take it out on your body next time we're in the playroom."

My breath hitches. I can feel my cheeks heat as I sink my teeth into my lower lip.

"Don't, Anastasia," he reprimands, " I've been trying to get you back into bed all morning, and now when our guests are due to arrive any minute, you're practically begging me to take you over my knee."

"I can't help it," I say, dropping the napkins I was folding onto the table. I walk around to where he's standing and throw my arms around his neck. He stills for only a second. He doesn't mind my touch so much anymore, but sometimes, when I catch him off guard, he needs a moment to adjust. "We've worked hard all morning; I think we deserve a little break."

I lean up on my toes and press a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. The kiss starts out innocently enough.

Our lips meet briefly, his mouth molding itself to mine, parting ever so slightly. One innocent kiss is all it takes.

"Fuck, Anastasia," he groans as I reach for the button on his jeans. My fingers find the zipper and I yank it down as fast as my clumsy hands will allow.

. "Baby," he mumbles against my lips.

"Yes, Sir," my voice a whisper, as my hand slips inside the front of his boxer briefs, gently releasing the sleeping giant from its cave. I sink to my knees, peeking up at him through my lashes.

"Oh my God!" I cringe, instantly recognizing the familiar voice. It's a voice that stops both Christian and I cold. A voice that causes me to scramble to my feet and force my hands to high into the air. I know my face is its deepest shade of red yet.

"MOM?!" Christian squeaks. I have never heard Christian speak at such a high octave. Another first.

"Hello son," Carrick's baritone calls from behind his wife.

"Christian." I elbow him, my hands still in the air. "Christian," I nudge him again. I'm not sure, but I think he's gone into shock. "Christian, put Thor away."

"Thor?" Grace shrills.

"Jesus , holy fuck," Christian hisses, turning quickly to stuff himself back into his pants before facing his parents.

We stand there for what feels like eternity, me with my hands in the air as if Grace is pointing a gun at me, and Christian with his hands clasped in front of his crotch, as if that would somehow make up for the ten seconds that it was hanging out.

The awkwardness is stifling so I say the only thing that comes to mind, "Happy Thanksgiving."

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends! Happy Thursday(or Friday?) to everyone else.

xoxo

Erika!

(No there will not be a sequel, just having a little fun!)