Page 39 of Inferno

“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.

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