Updated on August 5, 2015
50 Shades Darker – Chapter 20
Everyone thought Christian had died in a helicopter crash, but he hadn’t. Later, Ana said yes to Christian’s marriage proposal through the medium of a tacky flashing key ring. There will never be a love like this again.
50 Shades Darker
“You’ll marry me?” he whispers, incredulous.
Did you SEE the key ring? How can you doubt her love for you after such a grand gesture?
He moves suddenly, grabbing me and swinging me around in a most un-Fifty-like manner. He’s laughing, young and carefree, radiating joyful elation.
Were you imagining the movie when you write this, EL James? You might as well say this is all happening in slow motion with Coldplay in the background.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I murmur.
“Baby, it will take more than a malfunctioning 135 to keep me away from you.”
What do you think he’s talking about, the serial number of a dildo? It’s his fucking helicopter, you moron.
“Charlie Tango. She’s a Eurocopter EC135, the safest in its class.”
I cannot imagine why EL James put this in, except to prove that she googled ‘makes of helicopter’.
“Wait a minute. You gave this to me before we saw Flynn,” he says.
“I wanted to let you know that whatever Flynn said, it wouldn’t make a difference to me.”
Then why did you still go and see Flynn?
“So all yesterday evening, when I was begging for an answer, I had it already?”
Are you surprised? It does seem awfully like you were letting him stew in it.
He says some ‘retribution’ is in order for her teasing him. Everything inside Ana clenches (ew…) and I steel myself for another spanking scene.
…on a brave impulse, I swat his behind. He swats me right back.
Sexy bum slaps all round!
“Shower time,” he declares triumphantly.
Pausing by the vanity, he empties his pockets – dead BlackBerry, keys, wallet, the key chain.
Why the FUCK are you describing the contents of his pockets?
I can only imagine what I look like in the mirror from this angle.
Or you could … look in the mirror.
It’s cold and I’m fully clothed.
Christian Grey: so hot he even turns women on in COLD showers.
My hands move involuntarily to his shirt.
Ah! She’s lost control of her hands! Somebody help her!
I tug his shirt hard, ripping it open.
“Cufflinks,” he murmurs, holding up his wrists where his shirt hangs sodden and limp.
Aw, tried to be sexy. Failed.
His eyes search mine through the cascading water, his gaze burning, carnal, heated like the water.
Ah good, it’s warm now.
He smoothes my wet hair away from my neck, and runs his tongue up my neck to my hairline and back again, kissing and sucking as he goes.
That sounds … horrible.
I push my breasts into his magical hands.
Abracadabra and alakazam! I’ve got your boobs!
She rubs body wash into his chest; he looks all scared but lets her do it anyway. I don’t get what the ‘retribution’ is meant to be in this apparently pleasurable scene.
He reaches for the shampoo and squirt[s] some onto the top of my head.
This just gets hotter and hotter.
Groaning in appreciation, I close my eyes and give myself over to the heavenly sensation.
What is this, a Herbal Essences advert?
When he’s done, I face him once more and make a beeline for his pants.
Can you make a beeline for anything that’s within arm’s reach?
I stand and reach for the body wash and the freshwater sponge.
Why should I care that the sponge is FRESHWATER? Why don’t you just have a normal freaking sponge?!
He remembers that it’s Saturday, so she’s been on the pill long enough for them to bang without a condom. They do.
He picks up the pace, pushing me onward, upward – away from this earthly plane.
Don’t forget, your vagina is on earth.
I detonate around him – a healing, cathartic orgasm, crying out his name as tears flow down my cheeks.
So beautiful! So moving!
“My fingers are pruny,” I murmur.
So beautiful! So moving!
Christian insisted on drying my hair – he’s quite skilled at it. How that happened is an unpleasant thought.
Maybe it’s because he also has hair.
“Since it was going to be your birthday … What do you give the man who has everything? I thought I’d give you … me.”
Dude, do you even modest?
“When are you going to get it through your thick skull that you are loved?”
“I don’t think the bone density of my head is significantly higher than anywhere else in my body.”
She was trying to be nice. There’s no need to be a bloody pedant.
They go to bed.
I wake suddenly from a dream or nightmare.
Thanks for being specific.
I find José at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal.
More details about breakfast, please.
I take the eggs and bacon out of the fridge.
Christian is still in bed. José implies that Ana only loves him for his money.
Hmm … will I always have this levelled at me? That I’m marrying Christian for his money?
Yes, probably. But you’re not, so it doesn’t matter.
Swaggering over, Christian wraps his arm around me, tilts my chin up, and plants a loud wet kiss on my lips. Why is he so territorial?
BECAUSE THERE’S ANOTHER MAN THERE WHO FANCIES YOU.
[Christian and José] are talking fishing? What is it about fishing?
Some people like it. You don’t have to. That is all.
I zone out. This I do not need to know.
Yeh, it’s a boring conversation for men. You should go and think about your outfit for the day.
José leaves. Christian and Ana discuss how they’re going to tell her parents that they’re getting married.
“I should ask your father.”
“Oh, Christian – this isn’t the eighteenth century.”
Could have fooled me, given Christian’s attitude to working women.
“It’s traditional,” Christian shrugs.
Brilliant. Nothing bad has ever happened in the name of tradition.
“You’re biting your lip again,” he says and pulls on my chin.
A thrill runs through my body as his fingers touch me.
Yeh, but he’s tugging on your face.
She gives him the rest of his birthday presents.
The box contains a small wooden helicopter with a large, solar-powered rotor blade.
Bet that would have been a better present before his real helicopter nearly killed him.
“It’ll keep me company while we salvage Charlie Tango. I’ll miss her, otherwise.”
Her? I am shocked at myself for the small pang of jealousy I feel for an inanimate object.
So you should be. That’s a fucking LUDICROUS reaction.
He tears through the pale blue tissue paper and fishes out an eye mask, some nipple clamps, a butt plug, his iPod, his silver grey tie, and the key to his playroom.
I know it’s the gesture that’s the point, but you have just given him a box of his own shit.
“Come,” he orders.
It’s funny because it’s a double entendre!
Read Chapter Twenty One.