8. Anders #2
I spend the next few hours coming up with a plan on how to show my Kitten that I might not have handled things in the best way, but that I’ll do better from now on.
By the time I climb in my car a little before five p.m., I have a clear idea of how to show my Boy that even if I fucked up by not speaking to him for days, he’s still mine.
I’ve never considered myself a sadist, but I don’t hate the feelings of gleeful anticipation that are swirling inside of me as I slow my car to a stop just around the corner from the garage.
I know the route he takes to the bus station, so unless Parker gives him a ride home, he’ll be walking past me at some point in the next ten minutes.
The wait seems to last a lifetime, but the moment I spot him in my rearview mirror, I exhale a huff of relief. Jumping out of the car, I keep my head down, trying to appear inconspicuous while Henry walks toward me, completely oblivious to my presence.
“Hello, Kitten,” I say as I step out in front of him.
His eyes light up, then immediately dim. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“No, thank you,” he says, his tone achingly polite as he tries to step around me.
“Boy, get in the car.”
“I’m happy riding the bus.”
“Well, that makes one of us. No boy of mine is going to ride the bus. It’s not safe,” I growl.
I hear his sharp gasp and watch as his body recoils like I’ve hit him. “I’m not yours,” he whimpers, brokenly.
Not giving him a chance to escape, I turn him, backing him into my car, then cage him against it with my body. “Oh, Kitten, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re all mine.”
Shaking his head he denies my words.
“I’m sorry for being an idiot. I’m a lot to deal with, and I don’t want to hurt you.
I’m possessive and obsessive and jealous.
I’ll smother you, control you, consume you…
own you, but the truth is, I’ve missed you so much these last few days.
I thought I was giving you space, but it turns out I was testing myself, and I failed.
I can’t walk away from you now, even if I wanted to, and I don’t. ”
Henry’s pupils are blown wide as he stares up at me. “Anders?—”
Interrupting him before he can utter whatever bullshit argument he can come up with about why we won’t work, I cup his cheeks in my palms, lean in, and kiss him. Swallowing his shocked sounds, I plunder his mouth, finding his tongue with mine and demanding its compliance.
His body stays rigid for longer than I’m expecting, but then he softens, melting into me like it’s taken all of his strength to hold himself up, and now that I’m here, he’s happy to let me take over.
We kiss for a long moment before I pull away. “Let’s go home.”
“I can’t,” Henry whispers.
“You are. You’re coming with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Boy,” I growl.
“I’m not a boy, I’m a fully grown man, and you’re right. You hurt me, and I’m not just going to get over it because you kissed me.”
“I know that, Kitten. But how can I fix things while you’re avoiding me?” I’m trying to stay calm and not just demand he be a good little Kitten and get in my fucking car, but it’s hard.
“I have to go or else I’ll miss my bus.”
“You’re not getting on that bus, Henry.” This time I can’t keep the stern authoritarian tone out of my voice, and once again he reacts, jerking away and smacking his spine against the car behind him.
“You don’t have to be scared of me, Henry,” I say, lowering and softening my voice.
“I know,” he admits, and I exhale a relieved breath at the sound of his sincerity.
“Come home with me,” I say again.
“I can’t.”
“Then let me take you to dinner. I’ll drive you home after.”
“My home or yours?” he asks suspiciously.
Smiling, I chuckle. “Mine preferably, but yours if you insist.”
“Do you promise you’ll take me back to my house once we’ve eaten?” he asks, putting emphasis on it being his house.
Sighing, I lean in and kiss him softly, needing to taste him and lay claim before I agree to take him anywhere but back to my bed. “Yes. If you decide you don’t want to come home with me, I’ll take you to your place.”
“And you’ll let me pay for my own food.”
“Get in the car, brat.”
“I’m not a brat,” he gasps, scandalized.
Smacking a kiss against his lips, I back up, then take his hand and lead him around to the passenger side, opening his door for him and holding it while he climbs into the seat.
Instead of closing his door, I lean in, then pause when we’re so close I can smell the scent of his shampoo.
Reaching over him, I clip his seat belt into place, pretending I don’t hear the tiny whimper that falls from his parted lips.
Instead of taking him in the direction of Bozeman and his apartment, I drive him to a cute place on the outskirts of town that has a beautiful patio lit with candles in hurricane lamps and twinkle lights.
The whole restaurant has an intimate, romantic vibe, and after parking my car in the lot, I rush to open his door and take his hand, gripping his fingers tightly in mine.
It may seem like a thoughtful gesture, but honestly, I’m just making sure he doesn’t have an opportunity to run from me.
If he did, I’d be forced to chase him, and although this town will put up with a lot of crazy behavior in the name of love, I’m not sure chasing a guy down and tackling him to the ground would seem quite as cute as a Barnett declaring their love within moments of meeting someone.
Tightening my grip on his hand, I lead him into the restaurant. When the hostess asks us if we’d like to eat outside, I immediately agree, towing Henry through the maze of tables and out onto the warmly lit patio.
When I turn to glance at my boy, his cheeks are pink, and his gaze is almost entirely focused on his well-worn sneakers. I’m not sure if it’s the restaurant, the romantic setting, or the fact that I’m still holding his hand that is embarrassing him, but he looks fucking adorable.
“Can I get you some drinks to start?” a perky waitress asks as she hands us menus and pulls out a tablet ready to take our order.
“What do you want to drink, Kitten?”
His blush deepens, and he sinks into his chair. “Soda, Coke if you have it, please.”
“A soda and a beer, please,” I tell the waitress, who nods and taps the screen on her tablet. “I’ll go and grab those for you, then I’ll take your food order when I get back.”
“What sounds good?” I ask Henry as he hides his face behind the menu.
“It all sounds delicious,” he says quietly.
“Do you like seafood?” I ask.
“I had prawns once, they were good,” he admits quietly, still using the menu as an excuse not to look at me.
“Henry, I’ve told you before that I expect you to look at me when we’re speaking,” I say, allowing a hint of demand to slip into my words.
He responds beautifully, lowering the menu to the table, then coyly looking up at me from beneath his lashes.
“Good boy,” I praise, enjoying the involuntary shudder of pleasure that rolls through him. “Have you ever tried lobster?”
He shakes his head.
“Would you like to order a few things to share?”
“Oh, I,” he starts, then trails off.
“We could get a few appetizers too, then you can pick at what you like and leave what you don’t,” I say, wanting to spoil him.
“I don’t.” His gaze dips to the menu, then to me again.
“I’m not letting you pay, Boy.”
“But you?—”
I cut him off. “I asked you to dinner. I’m paying. If you’d rather order your own dish, I won’t be upset.”
“No,” he blurts. “Sharing…I’d like to do what you said.”
I don’t know why I like his discomfort so much. I don’t want him to feel awkward, but keeping him off-kilter and adorably ruffled is exhilarating. Once he’s a little more comfortable with me, he’ll enjoy this game too. But for now, I need to be careful to keep him on edge but not push him over it.
I also want to indulge him, to spoil him, and treat him like the perfect fucking man he is. He’s mine, and once he gives himself over to me, I’ll show him just how much I’ll pamper and adore him. I’ll give him the fucking world, and all he has to give me is him.
Sitting here like this, I can imagine our future together.
Me picking him up from work and taking him to dinner.
The entire night will be foreplay, a tease.
I’ll order for him, knowing without having to ask what he’ll want to eat and drink.
After dinner, I’ll send him to the bathroom with the plug I want him to wear, then watch him squirm while he sits opposite me, his ass full, his sensitive prostate being teased with every breath he takes.
I’ll control him, but he’ll love it, secure in my love, insulated from the worst parts of the world, sheltered and consumed by me.
I blink back to reality when the bouncy server arrives at our table again.
“Are you ready to order?” she asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I say, then proceed to order half the menu.
Instead of looking shocked, the server eyes me, then licks her lips flirtatiously.
I’m not sure if she didn’t see me coming in holding Henry’s hand or if she somehow thinks I’ll suddenly drop my date and leave with her.
But either way, I ignore her behavior, handing her back the menu and turning to look at Henry, smiling at his visible shock.
“Anders, that’s too much food,” he protests weakly.
“Don’t worry, Kitten, we can just take whatever we don’t eat home for leftovers,” I assure him, with a wink.
The server’s expression sours as she watches me blatantly flirt with my Kitten. But she doesn’t say anything and instead just tells us she’ll have our food out as soon as it’s done, then bounces away with a little less pep in her step.
“She was a pretty girl,” Henry comments.
“Who?” I ask, pretending not to have noticed.