50 Shades Darker – Chapter 9

There’s still no sign of Leila, Christian’s ex who has a gun and seems to have broken into his apartment. Ana has ‘agreed’ to a contraceptive injection and they’re staying in a hotel until the whole murderous previous lover escapade blows over. Which I’m sure it will. Without event.

Read Chapter Eight, or read the whole lot on ‘The Fifty Shades Saga‘ page.

50 Shades Darker
Chapter 9

I cannot contain my jubilation.

He said he loves her. Or rather he said, “Yes,” when she asked him if he did. Close enough.

This beautiful, fucked-up man…

Whom you repeatedly describe using those two adjectives.

…is also fragile and alienated and full of self-loathing.

Yay?

My heart is big enough for both of us. I hope that it’s big enough for both of us.

Um, that’s not really how love works. He will also require a heart.

“Oh Ana … I want you, but not here.”

I wonder if they’ll ever be able to talk to each other without having to immediately bang afterwards.

He swathes the towel around my head so that … I look like I’m wearing a veil.

Really? Does it really look like you’re wearing a veil, or just a damp towel on your head? Also, FORESHADOWING.

Carefully, I wipe his back beneath the faint lipstick line, which is still visible.

Seriously, she drew this line about a hundred chapters ago; since then there have been at least two nights, three sex sessions and a SHOWER. Unless she’s using fucking lead-based paint on her lips, I can’t imagine how the line is still visible.

We all know that he won’t let her touch his chest, so she takes hold of his hand and uses it to towel dry his chest. Gosh, she’s a cunning one.

His anxiety ripples off his back in waves.

I … I don’t understand how that sentence ever came to be.

We gaze at each other, basking in our post-coital bliss.

I know I said the sex scenes are repetitive, but SKIPPING OVER THEM ENTIRELY? Aside from the cheap titillation, there is literally no reason to read this tripe. I’ve been robbed.

“I robbed you of your virtue.”
“I don’t think you robbed me.” I am not a helpless maiden.

Yeh, you kind of were, though. You’d never even touched yourself.

“Your biological father … do you know who he was?”
“I have no idea. Wasn’t the savage who was her pimp, which is good.”

Small mercies.

“The pimp discovered the crack whore’s body and phoned it in to the authorities. Took him four days to make the discovery, though. He shut the door when he left … left me with her … her body.”

So that’s why you believe he isn’t your father? Sure, the guy was an exploitative pimp who left a kid alone with a decomposing body, but doing it to his own son … THAT’S a line he wouldn’t cross.

He grins at me with a boyish, carefree, I’m-only-twenty-seven smile.

That is not a type of smile.

“My palms still twitch, you know, Miss Steele.”

That’s good, because every whiff of BDSM has disappeared from this book. Now it’s just a terribly written romance featuring vanilla sex.

Jeez, everyone is so happy today.

I know, it’s bloody tedious.

They go to a Saab dealership because he says it’s about time he got her another car. Any trace of all that previous anger – I want to support myself, stop buying me shit – has disappeared. This is very realistic and like genuine human emotions because … oh wait, no, it isn’t at all.

“Christian, you really don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
I resign myself to my fate.

Why didn’t this work the first two hundred times he said it? I feel like EL James got bored with her own storyline. Understandable.

Christian asks her what colour she wants. She suggests black, he says no. She suggests yellow, he says no. She asks him what colour he wants her to have. He picks silver.

My subconscious is cringing in disgust, mortified by the whole buying-a-car business.

Don’t go on about how disgusting you find it all if you’re just going to accept the bloody thing off him without argument.

Christian turns to Troy. “What are the safety stats on the convertible?”

Oh, go fuck yourself.

This man – God’s gift to women.

Um, I don’t want him.

“Who’s this?” I ask.
“Eva Cassidy.”
“She has a lovely voice.”
“She did. She died young.”
“Oh.”

Oh?! She was a vocal GODDESS whose death was an unbelievable tragedy, and all you can muster is OH!?!?!?!

They go to lunch at a seafront bar, where the barman is called Dante, of all things. They discuss exactly what beer they are going to have and what food they’ll eat, then the relay the information to the barman so we get to read it twice!

As we talk, it strikes me that he’s turned from Hardy’s Alec to Angel, debasement to high ideal.

Oh good, not long until he disowns you for not being a virgin then. That’s certainly my high ideal.

“I thought we’d go sailing this afternoon. This is my boat.”

Oh God, there really was no need for that whole lunch scene.

Two sleek white hulls, a deck … and towering overhead an impressive mast. I know nothing about boats, but I can tell this one is special.

Might the, ahem, impressive mast have something to do with that?

They meet Christian’s boat man, Mac. He says, ‘She’s ready to rock and roll’ and Ana thinks he’s talking about her because she’s obscenely stupid. Then Christian gives her (and us) a tour of the boat, in which the words ‘modern’ and ‘sleek’ are severely overused.

“You’re the first girl in here, apart from family,” he says.

Seriously, what’s the point of having a glamorous yacht if you’re not going to have sex on it?

“Come.” He grabs my hand and leads me outside.

I thought that was a command and was surprised that she didn’t orgasm on the spot.

Christian … pulls me between his legs and points out various dials and gadgets in the cockpit.

The INNUENDO. So very clever.

He gives her command of the steering wheel and tells her to cut the engine at his signal.

Christian and Mac hoist the mainsail … they get to work on the headsail.

Earlier on, Christian used some technical boat terms and she told him off for confusing her. Now she’s been on a boat for ten minutes and knows all the lingo.

I stand firm, grasping the wheel, fighting the rudder.

Guys, guys, guys. IT’S LIKE A METAPHOR FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

Mac … is unfurling the spinnaker…

No, seriously, where did all this nautical knowledge come from? I guess EL James did some research and wanted to prove it to us, at the expense of maintaining a realistic character perspective.

“She’s doing fifteen knots.”
“I have no idea what that means.”

Oh yeh, Ana isn’t meant to know anything about sailing. Good save.

They anchor in a cove. Mac buggers off to give them some privacy and they go down to the cabin. I wonder why?

I am panting and eager, aroused by … the gentle sway of the boat.

Not only is she immune to UTIs and gives perfect head on her first time, she also hasn’t ever heard of sea sickness.

I step out of my jeans and stand there for him in the lingerie he’s paid for, but I no longer feel cheap. I feel his.

So it’s OK to have a price, as long as it isn’t cheap.

He walks me backward to the bed and gently lowers me onto it, following me down.

Apparently she’s only clumsy when it suits the story. Real people would definitely trip over each other at this point.

…his long, skilled fingers caressing and stroking me … and all this time he’s kissing and sucking my breasts.

You know, the backs of the knees are also an erogenous zone, but you never see him go there.

“Oh, Ana. What you make me feel,” he murmurs.

Yes, yes, it’s really good. Spank her again.

…he groans as we both come together.

Just another regular day for Ana and Christian. Yawn.


Read Chapter Ten.

Why not let me know what you think? You can buy the book here, or the entire trilogy, if you’re a glutton for punishment. Ironically.

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4 Comments on “50 Shades Darker – Chapter 9

  1. Is it me, or is Ana just mentioning the orgasms as an afterthought now?

    E.L seems to be getting sick of repeating herself, yet she won’t stop. How the hell did women the world over find “we come together” time and time and time and TIME again, erotic, is beyond me.

    And OK, aside from the whole walking her backwards to the bed without either of them tripping, I can’t help but keep wondering HOW this (vanilla) sex takes place without so much as a touch of her body parts to his chest.

    Is Christian always on his knees? Braced up on his forearms? Standing across the room and reaching inside her on the bed with his “considerable mast” – Do her hands never stray/clutch/fist/grab during her spin-cycle on the wash-machine orgasms? And, is it just his chest robot guy doesn’t like touched? Why just the chest? Does E. L even know how utterly stupid that comes across, and especially if it’s CONSTANTLY referred to?

    I think I’m only going to follow this through to the end to know WHAT THE BIG FUCKING DEAL IS ABOUT HIS CHEST.

    P.S. Best moment of the update today
    “Come.” He grabs my hand and leads me outside.

    I thought that was a command and was surprised that she didn’t orgasm on the spot.”

    *rofl applause*

    • I know exactly what you mean about his chest! From what I’ve read, I think Mrs Robinson used to stub cigarettes out on it or something. But how Ana and Christian have managed to have all that sex without any part of her ever touching him there, I don’t know.

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