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350 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 14, 2013









And what about his movies? They have sex in them. Meaning he has sex, with actresses, on screen for millions of people to see. And yet he'd come home to me and I'd kiss him and touch him and have to know that another woman just did all that, even if it was for a movie and not real emotion? Even without emotion, it would be real kisses real sex.



















“In person… he’s beyond perfection. I can’t look away from him, but his beauty burns me, like staring into the sun.”
“I’ve always gotten what I want. Always. And I want you all to myself. I don’t want you working there anymore, and I knew you’d fight me on it, so I took the fight away from you.”
“I’m already losing myself in him, losing track of who I was and who I am and where that stops and he begins.”
“You exude this effortless sensuality, but it’s— I don’t know, it’s not sexual, somehow. Like, it should be, considering what you do, but it’s not. It’s sensual, this weird mix of innocence and raw beauty.”
“What do you need, baby? Tell me, so I can give it to you.”





Dawson Kellor. My heart stops, my breath catches. I’ve seen pictures of him, I’ve seen him in his latest films. But none of that does him justice. Not even close.
“Girlfriends are a dime a dozen. I could snap my fingers and have six girlfriends, one for every day of the week and Sunday off. I don’t want that. I’ve had that. It’s boring. I want you.”
I know I shouldn’t let this happen, that I’m crossing some line I shouldn’t cross, but I won’t stop it. He’s touching me; he owns me. He knows exactly what I need, what I want, even if I don’t.Dawson and Grey together... it was HOT.
‘You make me feel like I’m sone one, and not because I’m Dawson Fucking Kellor, either.’
‘You make me feel alive, Grey. And... I love that feeling.’





"I want to kiss you whenever I feel like it. I want to tell you when you're being ridiculous. I want to make love to you. I want to fuck you. I want to hold you. I want to be yours."

I'm the girl who's off-limits. I'm the pastor's daughter.

"You know I've put on, like, fifteen pounds of muscle since I met you? Because you get me worked up and then I can't get off on my own because if feels wrong, and I need to let it out, so I work out. You turn me on, just breathing."
"I'm a guy. I pee and I miss the toilet. I take shits. I eat cheeseburgers. I watch baseball and drink beer."

"You're so fucking gloriously gorgeous that I literally cannot stand it. I'm having to remind myself to keep breathing, because you take my breath away."

My name is Grey Amundsen. But Grey, she doesn't exist in here, in this slimy, smoky, sex-hazed hole. In here, I'm Gracie.

"You make me feel alive, Grey. And... I love that feeling."

“In person… he’s beyond perfection. I can’t look away from him, but his beauty burns me, like staring into the sun.”
“I want to kiss you whenever I feel like it. I want to tell you when you’re being ridiculous. I want to make love to you. I want to fuck you. I want to hold you. I want to be yours.”


“My name is Grey Amundsen. But Grey, she doesn’t exist in here, in this slimy, smoky, sex-hazed hole. In here, I’m Gracie.”

Who am I? Who am I, that this man loves me?
I’m not a film student, I’m not a stripper, I’m not a dancer, I’m not anyone. I’m just Grey Amundsen. But this glorious man, this near-deity…he loves me.
Why?
What am I, that he feels so strongly about me? What do I offer?
But he barely knows me, and what if he finds someone else? Someone prettier? Someone more experienced? What if he has to do a love scene and I can’t handle it? There’s no if there; I couldn’t take that. It would ruin me.
But I’m already ruined. No longer a virgin.
I feel like an impostor sometimes. Like someone will see through my disguise and point at me and laugh, and say, “She doesn’t belong here! She’s just a hick from Georgia!”
I shouldn’t love him.
But I do. And why not?
It was sin.
I stink of Dawson. I reek of his musk, his essence, his touch.
He's sexy.
He's sweet.
He's romantic.
HE'S PERFECTION.
“In person… he’s beyond perfection. I can’t look away from him, but his beauty burns me, like staring into the sun. He’s too beautiful for words, and I’m not sure what to do. My body won’t work.”
The changeable beauty of his eyes, technically hazel but brownish when he’s feeling kind and soft, almost blue when he’s angry, faded moss-green when he’s raw with lust, always somewhere in between, never one shade.
His eyes are quicksilver, a changeable hazel.







”My name is Grey Amundsen. But Grey, she doesn't exist in here, in this slimy, smoky, sex-hazed hole. In here, I'm Gracie.”
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”I want to kiss you whenever I feel like it. I want to tell you when you're being ridiculous. I want to make love to you. I want to fuck you. I want to hold you. I want to be yours."
"You're so fucking gloriously gorgeous that I literally cannot stand it. I'm having to remind myself to keep breathing, because you take my breath away."







"No daughter of mine will engage in any such lewd and sinful behavior as dancing," Daddy says to me, his blue eyes blazing. "It is gross and immodest and entirely sexual. I've seen the kind of dancing those...those harlots engage in at that so-called academy. You will not attend."


[ ] Physically controls her because she is frequently totally out of control and would not be able to function without him.
[ ] Financially dominates her - usually by giving expensive gifts she is uncomfortable receiving and didn't ask for, putting money in her bank account without asking her, etc.
[ ] Weirdly obsessive about her food intake, either demanding that she eat (or not eat) certain foods, or forcing her to eat and yelling at her when she doesn't - even if she says she's not hungry.
[ ] Physically possessive and controlling without negotiating terms with her before engaging in this behaviour; may be controlling of her before she's even expressed interest in him.
[ ] Seriously says things like "you are mine" and "you belong to me," and means them literally - again, often before she has agreed to any kind of relationship with him.
[ ] Threatens her friends and family, whether or not he knows she knows them.
[ ] Threatens people who look at her.
[ ] Physically assaults other men who look at her, flirt with her, or touch her in a non-sexual way.
[ ] Throws tantrums when he doesn't get his way, causing property damage or assaulting other people.
[ ] Obviously meant to be a stand-in for a real-life actor - either directly compared to him or subtly implied to be.
[ ] "Burning" or "piercing" eyes. (Dawson has magical colour-changing eyes.)
[ ] Isolates her from friends and family.
[ ] Incessantly nags her for attention - will not take no for an answer.
[ ] Is convinced that he knows better than her in all ways and that her "nos" are really a "yes" she's too scared to give for whatever erason.
[ ] Is frequently compared to a drug, his influence over her is said to be so potent that she literally cannot say no to him.
* "God...my God, why have you forsaken me? Eli eli lama sabacthani?" He pulls away from me, covers his face with his hands. Really? He's spouting Aramaic now?
* I'd been beside her bed for forty-eight hours, waiting. I hadn't moved, not once. Not to eat, not to drink, not to pee. (According to science!, not actually possible.)
* "Grey Amundsen." "Grey. Like the color? [...] Oh. Like Fifty Shades." I shrug, not wanting to admit I don't know what she's talking about.
* The last bit of the outfit - the costume - is [...] a pair of knee-high boots. Hooker boots, I've heard them called. [...] They're suede boots [...] with a spindly three-inch stiletto heel..." (As a note explaining why this is ridiculous: industry standard is 5 inches. Wilder obviously googled stripping as a career, and didn't bother to learn this.)
* A single tear drips free to mingle with the sweat on my upper lip. I'm officially a stripper.
* I'm the most popular dancer by far. All the VIP rooms request me. I do five stage sets a night, and I always pull in at least a hundred dollars per set. I charge twenty per table dance, five for lap dances, and VIP rooms start at one fifty. (I HAVE LITERALLY NEVER EVER HEARD OF A CLUB THAT CHARGES 5 DOLLARS FOR A LAP DANCE, NOT UNLESS THEY'RE RUNNING SOME KIND OF SPECIAL, WHAT THE HECK AM I READING.)
* I know for a fact Kaz will fire me in a heartbeat if he knows I'm a stripper. I watched him fire an assistant secretary when he discovered she'd stripped in college. He fired her, not for having been a stripper, but for having lied about it. I've lied about it. Not directly, but by omission. It's enough.
* Then there was an allegation of rape, and that was when Dawson vanished from the public eye for the last few years. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
* I'm three bites into a giant bacon cheeseburger before I realize neither Dawson nor Greg has moved. They're just watching me eat. "What?" Dawson just wipes at his smile with a palm, then grabs the container beneath the one I'm eating from. "Nothing. Just...this is L.A. You don't often see girls dig into a burger like that around here."
* "Am I treating you like a stripper?" He says the word casually, as if the truth of it doesn't ripe a hole in me. "No," I can barely whisper the answer.
* He's the face of Cain Riley, hero of the Mark of Hell trilogy, a series of paranormal action-adventure/romance books that outsold both Harry Pottera nd Twilight.
* I seem to spend a lot of time terrified around this man.
* I'm helpless. I have no will left, no capacity to resist his touch, no ability to stop this.
* "...so I made that slimy fucking worm Tim an offer he couldn't refuse." [...] "Tim? Timony van Dutton?" "Yeah, that little cocksucker." (Great casual homophobia!)
* You were like an angel, trapped in hell. You couldn't have been more out of place if you tried. I watched you out on the floor, you know. And that dance on stage. You... captured them. All those poor, sweaty, greasy, miserable assholes. You were so different from the other blank-eyed, apathetic strippers you see in clubs like that.
* He's all there is. All there will ever be. I'm falling through eternity, and his touch is the fabric of that forever. His kiss is the substance of infinity. [...] His arms are like prison bars, but it's a cell I have no desire of escaping.
* The world ends in that moment [that we simultaneously orgasmed.] Lights flash and my entire existence shifts...
* His manhood is still slightly turgid.
* The entire scene after they have perfect porno sex like six times and then she runs off and sleepwalks her way through going to the airport on a plane to Georgia without knowing what she's doing and he just follows her without saying anything and then pops up behind her like SURPRISE!!! like some kind of weirdo cartoon vampire or something.
* THERE'S A WOMAN NAMED MRS. ELDRITCH
* "And the Oscar for Best Actor goes to...Dawson Kellor!" Channing Tatum claps his hands, the sound too loud in the microphone, his hands hitting the envelope. Beside him, Emma Stone claps as well, holding a smile as Dawson rises to his feet and makes his way down the aisle.
* aftER HE PROPOSES TO HER ON STAGE ON CAMERA AT THE OSCARS: "And then Morgan Freeman is beside us, tall and imposing, speaking to Dawson in that amazing voice of his. "Well, John Travolta and Rachel McAdams were supposed to be the next presenters, but you and your new fiancee here might as well do the honors.""
* "I feel so... disgusted. When I think about it, I want to throw up all over again. I hate knowing that I did that. That I was... that I let men -"
* "I have to say I'm glad you're not [stripping] anymore. It didn't suit you. You're too...good...for that lifestyle."
* I'm blind, deaf, swept away by the rocket rush and earthquake shakes and chaotic intensity [of orgasm].
* and then he baNGS HER IN THE POOPER AND THEN IN THE VAGINA IMMEDIATELY AFTER OMFG DAWSON YOU DISGUSTING CREEP THATS LITEARLLY GOING TO MAKE HER SJAIJOSI SICK WHY OWUAJ NO!!! YOU NEVER GO ASS-TO-ANYTHING!!!!!
* A spotlight shines on the edge of the dance floor, bathing a single figure: Lindsey Stirling. She lives a violin to her shoulder, pauses, and then launches into "Elements."







