Page 27 of Inferno

I don’t mean to sound cold or dismissive, but I need some time to think about this. Henry is a virgin. Claiming him was bad enough when I was just an incredibly dominant man who is twelve years older than him. But knowing that he has zero experience with other men, sex, or relationships is terrifying to me.

Starting something new is scary anyway, especially with my particular…needs, but knowing that Henry doesn’t have enough experience to understand if my behavior crosses a line is a bright red flag for me.

After things with Gabe ended so badly, it took me a long time and a lot of therapy to be ready to be in a relationship again. Since then, I’ve only ever dated people in the lifestyle who knew they could use a safe word or red card me if I got out of control. I’ve never allowed myself to need the safety precautions I put in place, but I knew that they’d call me on my shit if they needed to.

I doubt Henry even knows what a safe word is, and even if he did, would he feel confident and able to say it if he needed to? As a virgin, would he even know if I put him in a position that was pushing or crossing his limits?

Reaching for the soap, I wash myself quickly, taking the shampoo once Henry is finished with it and scrubbing my hair without any of the usual finesse I use when taking care of my shoulder-length locks.

Once I’m done, I don’t bother with conditioner, knowing I’ll regret it in the morning, too eager to get Henry out of the shower and into some clothes to care.

“Can you take me back to town, please?” Henry says the moment I turn off the water and hand him a towel.

“No,” I snap, allowing myself to actually look at him for the first time since he dropped the V bomb.

“I think I should leave,” he says, his voice so small it’s barely above a whisper.

“You’re not going anywhere. I just need some time to figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” he asks, so incredibly confused it’s clearly etched across his features.

“This.” I motion between us. “Us.”

“There’s not an us to figure out.”

“The hell there’s not. There’s an us, we’re an us. I just don’t…” I trail off, because telling him I’m scared I’ll turn into a controlling psycho probably isn’t the best idea right now.

“I get it, you’re not into virgins. But I didn’t ask to come here. I didn’t ask you to touch me.” His cheeks are pink, but I love the fire in his shaky voice.

My entire body softens, and I close the distance between us and collar his throat with my hand, noticing for the first time how fair his skin looks against my sun-warmed fingers. “Oh, Kitten, I don’t care that you’re a virgin. No, that’s a fucking lie. I love that you’re a virgin. I love knowing I’ll be the first person to take you, the first person to push into your body. The first person to truly fucking own you.”

“Then?” His brow furrows as he stares at me.

“Do you know what BDSM is?” I ask.

“Sort of.”

“Well, I enjoy the dominance and submission parts. I’m bossy, controlling, possessive, jealous, and obsessed. If you let me, I’ll take over your entire world, and I’ll keep going until you hate me for it. I don’t want to do that,” I tell him, not wanting to explain about my past, even though I know eventually I’ll have to.

“What if I don’t let you?” he asks boldly.

“How would you stop me, Kitten? Have you ever been in a relationship?”

Shaking his head, he says, “No.”

“I don’t want to ruin you, Henry. I don’t want you to hate me or resent me or be scared of me, and if I let myself do all of the things I want to do to you, eventually you will. Eventually you’ll look at your life and realize I’ve taken everything from you, and you let me do it because you didn’t know any better. I won’t do that to you.”

“Okay.”

Blinking, I stare at him, feeling like he just punched me.

“If that’s what you think will happen, I understand. I don’t want that either. Can you show me where the washer is so I can put my things in?”

He’s so calm. So unaffected that I simply look at him for a long moment before I jolt back to reality and nod. “I’ll do it. You get into bed.”

“No, I can do it,” he protests.

“Get into bed, Kitten. Let me do this for you,” I plead.

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