Updated on August 5, 2015
50 Shades Darker – Chapter 6
Christian’s ex-sub is grieving, crazy and on the loose with a gun. Meanwhile, in a thoroughly unexpected turn of events, Christian and Ana are banging.
50 Shades Darker
In one smooth move, [my bra] is off and he pitches it aside.
Christian Grey doesn’t just throw a bra, he fucking PITCHES it.
I sense his longing…
Not as intuitive as you might think given that he’s literally sucking your nipples.
…he stands, takes a foil packet out of his pocket, and tosses it at me…
You do it, bitch.
I come audibly, exhaustingly, spinning down and around, collapsing on top of him.
A truly extraordinary orgasm makes you spin like a top.
He smoothes my hair…
I know EL James is deliberately including Americanisms, but ‘smoothes’? Really?
“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”
I’m very tired of this ‘Ana is so beautiful and she doesn’t know it’ bullshit. This ain’t a One Direction song.
“All those boys pursuing you – that isn’t enough of a clue?”
“Boys? What boys?”
Oh, COME ON, Ana. Every male you’ve ever been NEAR has made a pass at you. Stop being so fucking dense.
He removes his condom, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.
How exactly would one drop a condom ceremoniously?
They fuck again, because why not, and then she goes to have a shower. Naturally she spends her time in the shower thinking about everything, and we have to sit through yet another tedious interior monologue.
He’s revealed so much today … his salary details … and the dossiers he has on me and on all his brunette submissives.
I should clarify; all his previous submissives were brunettes. He doesn’t only keep files on the dark-haired ones.
And there’s Leila – with a gun, potentially, somewhere – and her crap taste in music still on his iPod.
NOT ONLY might she go on a vengeful murderous rampage, she ALSO likes shit music. It really is too much.
Kinky fuckery, yes, I can do that, but more?
Just in case we’d forgotten her fucking dilemma in the last three microseconds.
I select a black bustier corset creation with a price tag of $540.
Given how much she hates luxury, this probably burns her skin when she puts it on.
Wow, they feel … slinky … and kind of hot …
Newsflash: Sexy underwear makes Ana feel sexy.
“Remind me to send a personal note of thanks to Caroline Acton.”
I frown. Who the hell is she?
“The personal shopper at Neiman’s.”
Because, if he had another woman, he’d obviously he’d just drop her name into conversation with you.
He … pulls the silver ball things from his pocket…
“I thought you could wear these tonight.”
Oh man, the explanation for whatever it is they’re doing tonight was several chapters ago and I can’t remember it. Fuck it, I’m sure every detail will eventually be explained.
“Well, rest assured I am not going to [spank] you … not even if you beg me.”
Oh! This is news.
I hate that this is becoming a phrase.
He looks so wickedly tempting – unkempt, recently fucked hair…
At what point does just-fucked hair turn into recently fucked hair? Also, you didn’t fuck his hair.
“Okay,” I acquiesce softly. Hell yes! My inner goddess has found her voice…
Your inner goddess has found her voice and it’s Christian’s!
She puts on some shoes (again we get the exact price tag, proving that this book is just as much a shopping list for the super rich, as it is a shit novel), then she sucks on his fingers whilst he slips the silver balls into her. He gives her a pair of earrings (described in nauseating detail) and FINALLY they fuck off out to the event, party, thing.
I have entered an alternate universe.
You haven’t. Much as the wealthy would like to deny it, they do live in the same world as the rest of us.
I have kept my makeup to a minimum, a natural look.
Good, you needn’t tell us any more.
Eyeliner, mascara, a little pink blush.
I said, that’s enough.
I don’t really need the blush.
FUCKING HELL, YOU CRETIN, JUST STOP!
I reach into the bag and pull out an intricate silver masquerade mask with cobalt blue feathers in a plume crowning the top.
“It’s a masked ball,” he states matter-of-factly.
And here I was thinking this was something else he wanted to stick up her vag.
…he leads me out into the hallway and to a door beside the stairs. This [room] is filled with books. Wow, a library.
Trying to rip off that classic scene from ‘Beauty and the Beast’? I was raised on Disney. You will never match the beauty and emotion of that perfectly crafted piece of cinema.
“Yes, the balls room, as Elliot calls it.”
This is because there’s a billiards table in it. Not because Christian uses it for testicular related activities.
On the way to the event in the car there’s more suggestive finger sucking and Ana goes on and on about the balls moving about inside her. Tl;dr it feels really good.
“Mr Grey!” one of the photographers calls. How do they know it’s him?
Because, of his entire person, the mask only covers his eyes. I can tell that Ana would totally be taken in by Clark ‘I’m wearing glasses so you can’t tell I’m Superman’ Kent.
Standing at each entrance are two elaborate ice sculptures of swans.
I can’t decide whether this impresses or sickens me.
A young woman appears out of the throng and … immediately I know she’s Mia.
Ugh, Christian’s irritatingly over-friendly sister. I hate her.
“Ana! Oh, darling, you look gorgeous!” She gives me a quick hug.
See what I mean? They’ve only met once.
Mia introduces Ana to all her friends.
…Lily, I think her name is, regards me sourly from beneath her red mask.
I think I’m going to like Lily.
We find out, predictably, that Christian once turned Lily down, hence her bitterness. God forbid that a woman in this world should get over rejection and move on. Oh no, that would be far too healthy.
Christian pulls me to his side. All four women flush, grin, and fidget, his dazzling smile doing what it always does.
I’d like to meet Christian and vomit on him.
I meet two Hollywood actors, two more CEOs, and several eminent physicians.
As if you give a fuck about the physicians.
They all sit down at the dinner tables and faff about with some sort of raffle. Then there’s literally a MENU, which I won’t even read because talking about what you’ve eaten or are about to eat is the most boring thing in the world.
…two servers pull back the canvas, revealing the sunset over Seattle and Meydenbauer Bay. It’s an absolutely breathtaking view, the twinkling lights of Seattle in the distance and the orange, dusky calm of the bay reflecting the opal sky.
I’m getting mighty sick of all this lavish description. The sheer weight of adjectives is suffocating.
On a silent cue, they serve us our starters in complete synchronization…
Because there’s nothing more irritating than starting your meal a few seconds after somebody else.
Christian seems intent on empowering impoverished communities all over the world with windup technology…
Yes, yes, all this wealth is fine because it’s founded on good intentions. Whatever.
…the master of ceremonies appears at our table, and with him … is Miss European Pigtails. What’s her name? Hansel, Gretel … Gretchen.
Little bit racist?
She goes to the bathroom and takes out the balls because – boo hoo – she’s in too much pleasure. Then she gets hold of a list of the auction prizes (oh yeh, it’s a charity auction) and is overcome with shock when she learns that Christian owns property in Aspen. Unbelievable.
The bidding moves to Christian’s place in Aspen and reaches $20,000. And I don’t know what possesses me, but I suddenly hear my own voice ringing out clearly over the throng.
“Twenty-four thousand dollars!”
“…going once, going twice … Sold!”
And, on that act of thundering stupidity, the chapter ends.
Read Chapter Seven.