姐,我要。。。
轻松的小说阅读环境
五十度灰英文版 - Part 1 15(2)
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  ldquo;Four!” I yell as the belt bites me again, and now the tears are streaming down my face. I don’t want to cry. It angers me that I am crying. He hits me again.
  “Five.” My voice is more a choked, strangled sob, and in this moment, I think I hate him. One more, I can do one more. My backside feels as if it’s on fire.
  “Six,” I whisper as the blistering pain cuts across me again, and I hear him drop the belt behind me, and he’s pulling me into his arms, all breathless and compassionate… and I want none of him.
  “Let go… no... ” And I find myself struggling out his grasp, pushing him away. Fighting him.
  “Don’t touch me!” I hiss. I straighten and stare at him, and he’s watching me as if I might bolt, gray eyes wide, bemused. I dash the tears angrily out of my eyes with the backs of my hands, glaring at him.
  “This is what you really like? Me, like this?” I use the sleeve of the bathrobe to wipe my nose.
  He gazes at me warily.
  “Well, you are one fucked-up son of a bitch.”
  “Ana,” he pleads, shocked.
  “Don’t you dare, Ana me! You need to sort your shit out, Grey!” And with that, I turn stiffly, and I walk out of the playroom, closing the door quietly behind me.
  I clasp the door handle behind me and briefly lean back against the door. Where to go? Do I run? Do I stay? I am so mad, angry scalding tears spill down my cheeks, and I brush them furiously aside. I just want to curl up. Curl up and recuperate in some way. Heal my shattered faith. How could I have been so stupid? Of course it hurts.
  Tentatively, I rub my backside. Aah! It’s sore. Where to go? Not his room. My room, or the room that will be mine, no, is mine… was mine. This is why he wanted me to keep it. He knew I would need distance from him.
  I launch myself stiffly in that direction, conscious that Christian may follow me. It is still dark in the bedroom, dawn only a whisper in the skyline. I climb awkwardly into bed, careful not to sit on my aching and tender backside. I keep the bathrobe on, wrapping it around me, and curl up and really let go – sobbing hard into my pillow.
  What was I thinking? Why did I let him do that to me? I wanted the dark, to explore how bad it could be – but it’s too dark for me. I cannot do this. Yet, this is what he does, this is how he gets his kicks.
  What a monumental wake-up call. And to be fair to him, he warned me and warned me, time and again. He’s not normal. He has needs that I cannot fulfill. I realize that now. I don’t want him to hit me like that again, ever. I think of the couple of times he has hit me, and how easy he was on me by comparison. Is that enough for him? I sob harder into the pillow. I am going to lose him. He won’t want to be with me if I can’t give him this. Why, why, why have I fallen in love with Fifty Shades? Why? Why can’t I love José, or Paul Clayton, or someone like me?
  Oh, his distraught look as I left. I was so cruel, so shocked by the savagery… will he forgive me… will I forgive him? My thoughts are all haywire and jumbled, echoing and bouncing off the inside of my skull. My subconscious is shaking her head sadly, and my inner goddess is nowhere to be seen. Oh, this is a dark morning of the soul for me. I’m so alone. I want my Mom. I remember her parting words at the airport,
  Follow your heart, darling, and please, please – try not to over-think things. Relax and enjoy. You are so young, sweetheart, you have so much to experience, just let it happen. You deserve the best of everything.
  I did follow my heart, and I have a sore ass and an anguished, broken spirit to show for it. I have to go. That’s it… I have to leave. He’s no good for me, and I am no good for him. How can we possibly make this work? And the thought of not seeing him again practically chokes me… my Fifty Shades.
  I hear the door click open. Oh no – he’s here. He puts something down on the bedside table, and the bed shifts under his weight as he climbs in behind me.
  “Hush,” he breathes, and I want to pull away from him, move to the other side of the bed, but I’m paralyzed. I cannot move and lie stiffly, not yielding at all. “Don’t fight me, Ana, please,” he whispers. Gently, he pulls me into his arms, burying his nose in my hair, kissing my neck.

  “Don’t hate me,” he breathes softly against my skin, his voice achingly sad. My heart clenches anew and releases a fresh wave of silent sobbing. He continues to kiss me softly, tenderly, but I remain aloof and wary.
  We lie together like this, neither saying anything for ages. He just holds me, and very gradually, I relax and stop crying. Dawn comes and goes, and the soft light gets brighter as morning moves on, and still we lie quietly.
  “I bought you some Advil and some arnica cream,” he says after a long while.
  I turn very slowly in his arms so I can face him. I am resting my head on his arm. His eyes are flinty gray and guarded.
  I gaze at his beautiful face. He’s giving nothing away, but he keeps his eyes on mine, hardly blinking. Oh, he is so breathtakingly good-looking. In such a short time, he’s become so, so dear to me. Reaching up, I caress his cheek and run the tips of my fingers through his stubble. He closes his eyes and exhales slightly.
  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
  He opens his eyes and looks at me puzzled.
  “What for?”
  “What I said.”
  “You didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know.” And his eyes soften with relief. “I am sorry I hurt you.”
  I shrug.
  “I asked for it.” And now I know. I swallow. Here goes. I need to say my piece. “I don’t think I can be everything you want me to be,” I whisper. His eyes widen slightly, and he blinks, his fearful expression returning.
  “You are everything I want you to be.”
  What?
  “I don’t understand. I’m not obedient, and you can be as sure as hell I’m not going to let you do that to me again. And that’s what you need, you said so.”
  He closes his eyes again, and I can see a myriad of emotions cross his face. When he reopens them, his expression is bleak. Oh no.
  “You’re right. I should let you go. I am no good for you.”
  My scalp prickles as every single hair follicle on my body stands to attention, and the world falls away from me, leaving a wide, yawning abyss for me to fall into. Oh no.
  “I don’t want to go,” I whisper. Fuck – this is it. Pay or play. Tears swim in my eyes once more.
  “I don’t want you to go either,” he whispers, his voice raw. He reaches up and gently strokes my cheek and wipes away a falling tear with his thumb. “I’ve come alive since I met you.” His thumb traces the contours of my lower lip.
  “Me too,” I whisper, “I’ve fallen in love with you, Christian.”
  His eyes widen again, but this time, with pure, undiluted fear.
  “No,” he breathes as if I’ve knocked the wind out of him.
  Oh no.
  “You can’t love me, Ana. No… that’s wrong.” He’s horrified.
  “Wrong? Why’s it wrong?”
  “Well, look at you. I can’t make you happy.” His voice is anguished.
  “But you do make me happy.” I frown.
  “Not at the moment, not doing what I want to do.”
  Holy fuck. This really is it. This is what it boils down to – incompatibility - and all those poor subs come to mind.
  “We’ll never get past that, will we?” I whisper, my scalp prickling in fear.
  He shakes his head bleakly. I close my eyes. I cannot bear to look at him.
  “Well… I’d better go, then,” I murmur, wincing as I sit up.
  “No, don’t go.” He sounds panicked.
  “There’s no point in me staying.” Suddenly, I feel tired, really dog-tired, and I want to go now. I climb out of bed, and Christian follows.
  “I’m going to get dressed. I’d like some privacy,” I say, my voice flat and empty as I leave him standing in the bedroom.
  Heading downstairs, I glance at the great room, thinking how only hours before I had rested my head on his shoulder as he played the piano. So much has happened since then. I have had my eyes opened and glimpsed the extent of his depravity, and I now know he’s not capable of love – of giving or receiving love. My worst fears have been realized. And strangely, it’s very liberating.

  The pain is such that I refuse to acknowledge it. I feel numb. I have somehow escaped from my body and am now a casual observer to this unfolding tragedy. I shower quickly and methodically, thinking only of each second in front of me. Now squeeze body wash bottle. Put body wash bottle back in rack. Rub cloth on face, on shoulders… on and on, all simple, mechanical actions, requiring simple mechanical thoughts.
  I finish my shower – and as I haven’t washed my hair, I can dry myself quickly. I dress in the bathroom, taking my jeans and t-shirt out of my small suitcase. My jeans chafe against my backside, but quite frankly, it’s a pain I welcome as it distracts my mind from what’s happening to my splintering, shattered heart.
  I stoop to shut my suitcase, and the bag holding Christian’s gift catches my eye, a modeling kit for a Blahnik L23 glider, something for him to build. Tears threaten. Oh no… happier times, when there was hope of more. I take it out of the case, knowing that I need
  to give it to him. Quickly, I rip a small piece of paper from my notebook, hastily scribble a note for him, and leave it on top of the box.
  I gaze at myself in the mirror. A pale and haunted ghost stares back at me. I scoop my hair into a ponytail and ignore how swollen my eyelids are from the crying. My subconscious nods with approval. Even she knows not to be snarky right now. I cannot believe that my world is crumbling around me into a sterile pile of ashes, all my hopes and dreams cruelly dashed. No, no don’t think about it. Not now, not yet. Taking a deep breath, I pick up my case, and after placing the glider kit and my note on his pillow, I head for the great room.
  Christian is on the phone. He’s dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. His feet are bare.
  “He said what!” he shouts, making me jump. “Well, he could have told us the fucking truth. What’s his number, I need to call him… Welch, this is a real fuck-up.” He glances up and doesn’t take his dark and brooding eyes off me. “Find her,” he snaps and presses the off switch.
  I walk over to the couch and collect my backpack, doing my best to ignore him. I take the Mac out of it and walk back toward the kitchen, placing it carefully on the breakfast bar, along with the BlackBerry and the car key. When I turn to face him, he’s staring at me, stupefied with horror.
  “I need the money that Taylor got for my Beetle.” My voice is clear and calm, devoid of emotion… extraordinary.
  “Ana, I don’t want those things, they’re yours,” he says in disbelief. “Please, take them.”
  “No Christian – I only accepted them under sufferance – and I don’t want them anymore.”
  “Ana, be reasonable,” he scolds me, even now.
  “I don’t want anything that will remind me of you. I just need the money that Taylor got for my car.” My voice is quite monotone.
  He gasps.
  “Are you really trying to wound me?”
  “No.” I frown staring at him. Of course not… I love you. “I’m not. I’m trying to protect myself,” I whisper. Because you don’t want me the way I want you.
  “Please, Ana, take that stuff.”
  “Christian, I don’t want to fight – I just need the money.”
  He narrows his eyes, but I’m no longer intimidated by him. Well, only a little. I gaze impassively back, not blinking or backing down.
  “Will you take a check?” he says acidly.
  “Yes. I think you’re good for it.”
  He doesn’t smile, he just turns on his heel and stalks into his study. I take a last lingering look around his apartment – at the art on the walls – all abstracts, serene, cool… cold, even. Fitting, I think absently. My eyes stray to the piano. Jeez – if I’d kept my mouth shut, we’d have made love on the piano. No, fucked, we would have fucked on the piano. Well, I would have made love. The thought lies heavy and sad in my mind. He has never made love to me, has he? It’s always been fucking to him.

  Christian returns and hands me an envelope.
  “Taylor got a good price. It’s a classic car. You can ask him. He’ll take you home.” He nods in the direction over my shoulder. I turn, and Taylor is standing in the doorway, wearing his suit, as impeccable as ever.
  “That’s fine, I can get myself home, thank you.”
  I turn to stare at Christian, and I see the barely-contained fury in his eyes.
  “Are you going to defy me at every turn?”
  “Why change a habit of a lifetime?” I give him a small, apologetic shrug.
  He closes his eyes in frustration and runs his hand through his hair.
  “Please, Ana, let Taylor take you home.”
  “I’ll get the car, Miss Steele,” Taylor announces authoritatively. Christian nods at him, and when I glance around, Taylor has gone.
  I turn back to face Christian. We are four feet apart. He steps forward, and instinctively I step back. He stops, and the anguish in his expression is palpable, his gray eyes burning.
  “I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, his voice full of longing.
  “I can’t stay. I know what I want and you can’t give it to me, and I can’t give you what you need.”
  He takes another step forward, and I hold up my hands.
  “Don’t, please.” I recoil from him. There’s no way I can tolerate his touch now, it will slay me. “I can’t do this.”
  Grabbing my suitcase and my backpack, I head for the foyer. He follows me, keeping a careful distance. He presses the elevator button, and the doors open. I climb in.
  “Goodbye, Christian,” I murmur.
  “Ana, goodbye,” he says softly, and he looks utterly, utterly broken, a man in agonizing pain, reflecting how I feel inside. I tear my gaze away from him before I change my mind and try to comfort him.
  The elevator doors close, and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own personal hell.
  Taylor holds the door open for me, and I climb into the back of the car. I avoid eye contact. Embarrassment and shame washes over me. I’m a complete failure. I had hoped to drag
  my Fifty Shades into the light, but it’s proved a task beyond my meager abilities. Desperately, I try to keep my emotions banked and at bay. As we head out onto 4th Avenue, I stare blankly out of the window, and the enormity of what I’ve done slowly washes over me. Shit – I’ve left him. The only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I’ve ever slept with. I gasp, and the levees burst. Tears course unbidden and unwelcome down my cheeks, and I wipe them away hurriedly with my fingers, scrambling in my bag for my sunglasses. As we pause at some traffic lights, Taylor holds out a linen handkerchief for me. He says nothing and doesn’t look in my direction, and I take it with gratitude.
  “Thank you,” I mutter, and this small discreet act of kindness is my undoing. I sit back in the luxurious leather seats and weep.
  The apartment is achingly empty and unfamiliar. I have not lived here long enough for it to feel like home. I head straight to my room, and there, hanging limply at the end of my bed, is a very sad, deflated helicopter balloon. Charlie Tango, looking and feeling exactly like me. I grab it angrily off my bedrail, snapping the tie, and hug it to me. Oh – what have I done?
  I fall onto my bed, shoes and all, and howl. The pain is indescribable… physical, mental… metaphysical… it is everywhere, seeping into the marrow of my bones. Grief. This is grief – and I’ve brought it on myself. Deep down, a nasty, unbidden thought comes from my inner goddess, her lip curled in a snarl… the physical pain from the bite of a belt is nothing, nothing compared to this devastation. I curl up, desperately clutching the flat foil balloon and Taylor’s handkerchief, and surrender myself to my grief.
  End of Part One
或许您还会喜欢:
教父
作者:佚名
章节:45 人气:2
摘要:亚美利哥·勃纳瑟拉在纽约第三刑事法庭坐着等待开庭,等待对曾经严重地伤害了他的女儿并企图侮辱他的女儿的罪犯实行法律制裁。法官面容阴森可怕,卷起黑法衣的袖子,像是要对在法官席前面站着的两个年轻人加以严惩似的。他的表情在威严傲睨中显出了冷酷,但是,在这一切表面现象的下面,亚美利哥·勃纳瑟拉却感觉到法庭是在故弄玄虚,然而他还不理解这究竟是怎么回事。“你们的行为同那些最堕落腐化的分子相似,”法官厉声地说。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城2:新月
作者:佚名
章节:25 人气:2
摘要:我百分之九十九点九地确定我是在做梦。我之所以如此确信的理由是:第一,我正站在一束明亮的阳光下——那种令人目眩的,明净的太阳从未照耀在我的新家乡——华盛顿州的福克斯镇上,这里常年笼罩在如烟似雾的绵绵细雨之中;第二,我正注视着玛丽祖母,奶奶至今去世已经有六年多了,因此,这一确凿的证据足以证明我是在做梦。奶奶没有发生很大的变化;她的脸庞还是我记忆中的模样。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城4:破晓
作者:佚名
章节:41 人气:2
摘要:童年不是从出生到某一个年龄为止;也不是某一个特定的年纪孩子长大了,抛开幼稚童年的国度里,没有人会死去EdnaSt.VincentMillay前言我拥有比一般人多得多的濒临死亡的经历;这并不是一件你真正会习惯的事。这似乎有些奇怪,我又一次不可避免地面对着死亡。好像注定逃不开这一宿命,每一次我都成功逃开了,但是它又一次次地回到我身边。然而,这一次的似乎与众不同。 [点击阅读]
狼的诱惑
作者:佚名
章节:74 人气:2
摘要:“彩麻,你能去安阳真的好棒,既可以见到芷希和戴寒,又可以和妈妈生活在一起,真的是好羡慕你啊!”“勾构,我以后会经常回来的,你也可以到安阳来看我呀。记得常给我写信,还有打电话。”“喂,各位!车子马上就要出发了。”长途客运站的管理员冲我们叫道。“你快去吧,否则可要被车子落下了。”“嗯,我要走了,勾构。我一到妈妈家就会给你打电话的。 [点击阅读]
瓦尔登湖
作者:佚名
章节:24 人气:2
摘要:这本书的思想是崇尚简朴生活,热爱大自然的风光,内容丰厚,意义深远,语言生动,意境深邃,就像是个智慧的老人,闪现哲理灵光,又有高山流水那样的境界。书中记录了作者隐居瓦尔登湖畔,与大自然水-乳-交融、在田园生活中感知自然重塑自我的奇异历程。读本书,能引领人进入一个澄明、恬美、素雅的世界。亨利·戴维·梭罗(1817-1862),美国超验主义作家。 [点击阅读]
神秘岛
作者:佚名
章节:66 人气:2
摘要:《神秘岛》是凡尔纳著名三部曲(《格兰特船长的儿女》、《海底两万里》和《神秘岛》)的最后一部。在这部中,他把前两部情节的线索都连结了起来。神秘岛》中,船长是一位神秘人物,一直在暗中帮助大家。后来由于神秘岛的火山活动,岩浆堵住了岩洞口,使潜艇无法离开。船长帮助大家逃离后,自己说什么也要坚持与陪伴了自己一生的潜艇和伙伴在一起。最终当然是永远地留在海底了尼摩船长本是印度的达卡王子。 [点击阅读]
董贝父子
作者:佚名
章节:63 人气:2
摘要:我敢于大胆地相信,正确地观察人们的性格是一种罕见的才能(或习惯)。根据我的经验,我甚至发现,即使是正确地观察人们的面孔也决不是人们普遍都具有的才能(或习惯)。人们在判断中,两个极为寻常发生的错误就是把羞怯与自大混同——这确实是个很寻常的错误——,以及不了解固执的性格是在与它自身永远不断的斗争中存在的;这两种错误我想都是由于缺乏前一种才能(或习惯)所产生的。 [点击阅读]
裸冬
作者:佚名
章节:32 人气:2
摘要:刚刚度过了数月新婚生活的红正在收拾饭桌。昨晚丈夫领回来一位同僚,两人喝酒喝到深夜,留下了遍桌杯盘,一片狼藉。蓦地,红抬起头,四个男人蹑手蹑脚地偷偷闯进屋来!红骤然激起杀意,抓起桌上的牙签怒视着来人。她一眼就看出这四个来路不明的家伙不是打家劫舍找错了门,也不是找自己的丈夫寻衅闹事,而是专门冲着她本人来的!未等红顾及责问他们,这四个家伙早已蜂拥扑来。 [点击阅读]
贵宾室的怪客
作者:佚名
章节:13 人气:2
摘要:当浅见光彦决定乘坐“飞鸟”号豪华游轮去作环球航海旅游时,最吃惊的莫过于他自己了。“飞鸟”号是日本最大的豪华游轮,即使只住最便宜的“普通间”,作一次环球旅行所需的费用也大约要花上三百万日元。这是个几乎可以让浅见昏厥的数字。他一直认为这是个与自己毫无关系的另一个世界的话题,所以,当乘坐“飞鸟”号真真切切地发生在自己身上时,浅见的感受就好像是在做一个不祥的梦。 [点击阅读]
一个陌生女人的来信
作者:佚名
章节:34 人气:2
摘要:茨威格(1881-1942),奥地利著名作家、文艺评论家。1881年生于维也纳一一个陌生女人的来信剧照(20张)个富裕的犹太工厂主家庭。青年时代在维也纳和柏林攻读哲学和文学。1904年后任《新自由报》编辑。后去西欧、北非、印度、美洲等地游历。在法国结识维尔哈伦、罗曼·罗兰、罗丹等人,受到他们的影响。第一次世界大战爆发以后,发表反战剧本《耶雷米亚》。 [点击阅读]
中短篇小说
作者:佚名
章节:41 人气:2
摘要:——泰戈尔短篇小说浅谈——黄志坤罗宾德拉纳特·泰戈尔(RobindranathTagore,1861.5.7——1941.8.7)是一位驰名世界的印度诗人、作家、艺术家、哲学家和社会活动家。他勤奋好学孜孜不倦,在60多年的创作生涯中给人们留下了50多部清新隽永的诗集,10余部脍炙人口的中、长篇小说,90多篇绚丽多采的短篇小说,40余个寓意深刻的剧本,以及大量的故事、散文、论著、游记、书简等著作。 [点击阅读]
修道院纪事
作者:佚名
章节:26 人气:2
摘要:在王室名录上第五位叫唐·若奥的国王今天晚上要去妻子的卧室。唐娜·马丽娅·安娜·若泽珐来到这里已经两年有余,为的是给葡萄牙王室生下王子,但至今尚未怀孕。宫廷内外早已议论纷纷,说王后可能没有生育能力。但这仅限于关系亲密者之间的隐隐低语,以免隔墙有耳,遭到告发。要说过错在国王身上,那简直难以想象,这首先是因为,无生育能力不是男人们的病症,而是女人们的缺陷,所以女人被抛弃的事屡见不鲜。 [点击阅读]