8. Anders #4
Penn has already assured me that the permanent job is Henry’s if he’ll just accept it and that they plan to offer him the apartment over the garage as a job perk.
But as they clearly haven’t spoken to him about that yet, I keep that information to myself.
I’d much rather he move in with me, but for his sake, having his own place away from me will help keep my controlling urges in check.
“Okay, well how about this? While you work for the Barnetts, on the nights you don’t stay with me, you’ll agree to me driving you to and from work.
I don’t care about the distance, and I’ll enjoy having the extra time with you.
Plus, if I’m staying at your place, we’re both going to the same place anyway. ”
A look of horror streaks across his face at the mention of me staying at his place.
Parker told Danny it was in a rough neighborhood and that, from the outside, the building looked run-down.
When I drop him off later, I intend to go inside with him to see if it’s as safe as he said it was.
If it isn’t, I’ll be bringing him straight back home with me.
“What are the other rules?” he asks, avoiding agreeing to my suggestion.
“That we’re one hundred percent exclusive. Me and you, no one else. No flirting, no chatting, no sharing. You’re mine, every inch of you, and I’m yours.”
“Yes,” he says immediately.
Smiling, I lean forward and cup his cheek with my palm, and he leans into my touch, exhaling happily.
“Thank you, Kitten.”
The sound that comes from his mouth sounds more like a purr than a word, but I don’t point it out, happy to be allowed to touch him.
“Is that it?” he asks sweetly.
“You already know the other rule.”
“What?” he stiffens.
“I told you the other night. All of your pleasure belongs to me. You don’t touch yourself without asking my permission. Did you forget?”
His cheeks burn red, and he drops his gaze, hiding himself beneath his thick lashes. “No, I didn’t forget.”
“Did you do something naughty?” I whisper.
I wait for his denial, because my Kitten doesn’t strike me as a rule breaker, but instead he stays quiet.
“Boy, did you break the rule?” I growl, filling my words with stern authority.
“I didn’t touch myself,” he whimpers quietly.
He’s telling me the truth, I can tell already, but it’s not the whole truth. “But…” I trail off, waiting for him to tell me everything.
“I had a dream,” he finally admits.
“What kind of dream?” I ask, both tense and excited.
“The naughty kind,” he whispers.
“The wet kind?” I tease, smiling.
He shakes his head.
“What did you do after you woke up from your naughty dream?”
“I took a shower.”
“Was your pretty dick all hard?”
He nods solemnly.
“But you didn’t touch it?”
He shakes his head.
“But you did something, didn’t you?” There’s something about his innocent defiance that’s driving me crazy. My cock is so hard that if we were alone, I’d unfasten my pants just to give myself some space because right now the head is pressing firmly against my zipper.
He nods again.
“Tell me, Boy. Tell me what you did.” Pulling back, I let my hand fall away from his face, but I stay leaning into him, crowding him even though the table is between us.
Sucking in a sharp breath, he glances around like he’s worried we’ll be overheard.
“The water…” Pausing, he swallows thickly.
“Did you use the water on that tight little hole of yours?” I ask, imagining what he’d look like using the showerhead to tease his ass.
Shaking his head, his frantic eyes dart from side to side.
“Look at me,” I demand, and his gaze instantly lands on me. “Tell me.”
“It…I…just…”
He trails off, and it’s clear that as much as he wants to, he can’t say the words.
He can’t tell me, and I want to laugh or groan, because how can my perfect man be so fucking cute?
My taste in scene partners usually leans toward brats who I can tame, at least sexually anyway.
Since Gabe, I’ve only done scenes or had one-night stands with guys, and then I just look for hot guys who are happy to bottom.
But Henry isn’t a one-nighter, and he’s as far from a brat as you could get.
He’s innocent enough that even talking about sex genuinely embarrasses him. I want to push him, but I don’t know him well enough to know when my probing will turn into something darker. So instead, I smile, lean back, and chuckle softly. “When we take a shower next time, you can show me.”
His cheeks are crimson now, his entire being is visibly ruffled, and if we weren’t in a restaurant, I’d put him on my lap and kiss him until we were both breathless. Instead, I smile. “Too fucking cute.”
When the bouncy server arrives, she doesn’t bother flirting with me and instead quickly unloads our plates, then leaves, her attitude curt and sour.
“She didn’t flirt with you,” Henry points out.
“I think she got the hint I wasn’t interested,” I tell him, slicing a piece of steak and holding it up to his mouth.
“I can feed myself,” he says, before parting his lips and taking the food I’m offering him.
“I’m aware,” I say, swapping my fork for a spoon and offering him some of the lobster bisque next.
Instead of cutting a piece, I hold the entire burger up to his lips, watching as he takes a small bite. Next, I offer him some of the Thai beef salad and wait for him to finish before I ask. “Which is your favorite?”
“Which is yours?” he counters.
“I like them all. But I asked you a question.”
For a long moment I watch him consider what to do. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to tell me which is his favorite, because he knows I’ll encourage him to eat it. But I’m more than happy to wait him out, because I’m confident that he’ll crack first.
“The burger,” he blurts after several seconds.
“What did you think of the lobster?” I ask.
“It was good, but not as good as the burger,” he admits.
Smiling, I pick up the plate with the burger on it and place it in front of him, moving the steak to the middle of the table.
Half of the food is still left by the time Henry has eaten his fill.
For a small guy, he can really eat, and I once again consider that he may not have enough money to feed himself properly.
When the server comes back, I ask her to wrap up all the leftovers. “Do you have room for dessert?” I ask him.
“No, I’m so full,” he groans, rubbing his stomach as he leans back in his chair.
“We’ll just take the check then, please,” I tell the server.
Her attitude seems to have improved a little when she bounces back over to us with three takeaway boxes and a leather wallet that I’m assuming holds the check. Instead of placing it in front of me, she puts it in front of Henry, who immediately grabs it, his eyes widening when he sees the total.
Scowling at the server, I pluck the check out of his hands, flashing him a warning look when he starts to speak. Turning angry eyes on the server, she shrinks beneath my displeasure before turning and scurrying away.
“Let’s split it,” Henry says.
“No. I already told you I was paying.”
“But it’s so expensive?—”
Lifting my hand, I silence him. “I wanted you to try things without having to worry about not enjoying them. I chose to order things so that we could share, and I told you that I was paying. It doesn’t matter how much it costs if you enjoyed the food.”
“I did, but?—”
I silence him again, and he bites his lip to stop himself from saying anything more.
Grabbing the pen that’s in the billfold, I fill in the tip section, wishing I was the type of person who could leave a zero and a note to not be an asshole.
But I don’t. Instead, I leave a basic tip instead of the much larger amount I would have left if she’d behaved better and taken the hint I wasn’t interested with a little grace.
She doesn’t say anything else when she arrives with the card machine, and after she’s finished, I turn my back on her and hold my hand out for Henry to take.
His eyes search the room again before he places his hand on top of mine and lets me help him up.
I don’t release him as I lead him out of the restaurant and into the dark night.
When we reach my car, instead of opening his door, I back him up against it, curl my hand around his throat, and kiss him. He melts into me, pressing his hard cock against mine, while his tongue follows my lead as we kiss.
I adore his innocently enthusiastic reaction to my touch, and I have to fight the urge to grab his ass and pull him closer. Reluctantly dragging myself away from his mouth, I open his door, leaning over him to fasten his seat belt the moment he sits down.
His dick is tenting his pants, and I cover it with my palm, rubbing it firmly through the fabric. “This is mine,” I growl. “I’m the only one who gets to play with it. I’m the only one who gets to make you come. Your pleasure is mine. Do you understand?”
He nods.
“Tell me.”
“My pleasure is yours,” he repeats breathlessly, lifting his butt out of the chair to push up into my hand.
“If you want to come, then you need to ask for permission.”
He nods, as I slowly rub him.
“That means no more doing whatever you were doing in the shower to make yourself blow your load.”
His eyes widen and I smile, pausing as I wait for him to agree.
“Okay,” he pants.
“Good boy,” I praise, then pull my hand from his cock, straighten and close his car door, chuckling to myself as I listen to his splutter of indignation.
“Come home with me,” I half order, half ask, the moment I’m situated behind the steering wheel.
“No,” he says, shaking his head like he needs the physical movement to reinforce his words.
“Come home with me, let me take care of you.”
“I can’t,” he whimpers.