Page 60 of Inferno

My heart fucking breaks for him. Has he truly been denied even the smallest amount of affection his whole life that the idea of snuggling is foreign to him?

“Well, I’m an excellent snuggler. So let me help.” This isn’t what I’d planned, but fuck it. I can’t tolerate the amount of space and distance between us. Reaching for him, I haul him across the couch and position him with his head on my chest and hisbody curled into mine. Despite his height, he fits perfectly, and I exhale happily, trying to ignore his small huff of surprise and how tense he is.

Instead of commenting on his discomfort, I offer him the bowl of popcorn and carry on watching the show. His body relaxes in increments, and by the time the episode ends and the next starts, he’s melted into my body, his cheek heavy on my chest as he picks the chocolate out of the popcorn one piece at a time.

Smiling to myself, I exhale happily, glad to finally have my Kitten exactly where I want him.

ELEVEN

HENRY

I’m snugglingwith Anders on his couch.

I’m snuggling with a man who looks like a Viking, is built like a Greek god, and brought me fleece pj’s that he probably finds ridiculous, just so I’d be comfortable in his home.

Who is this man, and what the hell did I do to deserve him?

His bare chest is warm and surprisingly comfortable considering how muscled he is. His skin is soft, with just a smattering of blond hairs coating his pecs and running in a line down his abs and beneath the waist of his shorts to where his dick is still poking straight upward.

Earlier in the shower, I had his dick in my mouth. I’ve never done that before, and honestly, I’m sure I was pretty terrible at it, but Anders must not care, because he came in my mouth and I swallowed it. All of it, just like he ordered me to do.

I am so out of my depth with this man, but I don’t seem to be able to resist him. He went shopping for me. I hate that after seeing my apartment he felt the need to go and buy me clothes, but even though I should insist, I know I won’t offer to pay him back again.

The two times I’ve brought it up, his expression has shut down, and I felt his disappointment in me down to my core, and it hurt. I never want him to look at me like that again.

He’s doing something to me, and I don’t mean physically, although when he touches me, that definitely has an effect on me too. But it’s more than that. I respond to his mood. When he’s happy with me, he tells me, and his praise heats me up from inside, making me feel like I’m on top of the world. Feeling his body lose control when I sucked him and seeing the contented afterglow on his face was elating.

Hearing the disapproving tone in his voice when he told me that my offering to pay him for the gifts was a hard limit made me feel sick with guilt. I’ve never felt as in tune with someone as I do with him, and it’s terrifying. I learned when I was still a kid never to rely on anyone, never to allow myself to be impacted by someone else, and yet here I am letting myself be influenced by a virtual stranger.

A part of me wants to run away from this. I don’t know if I’m ready…if I’ll ever be ready for a man like Anders. But the rest of me knows that I’ll never be as happy, as safe, as cocooned as I feel right now in his arms.

My body feels like it’s come alive, and it’s scary. I want things from him that I’ve never even allowed myself to dream of. That I don’t even know how to articulate, but despite not having a clue what is happening to me, it’s him that seems to be holding back.

More than once, he’s hinted that if he doesn’t keep himself in check, he’ll take over my life. He makes it sound like it’s a bad thing, but to be wanted by someone so much that they need to be a part of every aspect of their person’s life sounds amazing to me.

His chest rises and falls steadily beneath me as he watches the TV, softly chuckling every now and then, his fingers strokingmy hip absentmindedly. But I don’t even know what we’re watching because all of my attention is on his hard dick.

The moment I realized I was attracted to men, I made a concerted effort to never allow my eyes to even dip in the direction of another man’s crotch…until him. I have no idea how his cock compares to other men, but to me, it’s perfect. Thick, long enough but not so big that it’s intimidating.

Of course, I know what my own dick feels like, but his is soft but hard, smooth and hot, and it tastes delicious. Right now, my eyes are fixed on the tent in his thin cotton shorts and the tiny wet patch that’s darkened the fabric. He didn’t bother to put on underwear, he just pulled his shorts over his cock, not even trying to hide the fact that he was hard and has stayed hard ever since.

If I was braver, more experienced…different, I’d reach over and touch his hardness. I want to. God, I want to, but I don’t know if I can…if I should…if that’s something he wants. In the shower he told me I could touch him, but I don’t know if that was just permission for that moment or if it was an open invitation, and I can’t ask, because I don’t want to sound any more inexperienced and naïve than I already do.

When I was a teenager, I saw kids at my high school and college who would lose hours just making out in the coffee shop and the library, but I’ve never done that. I had my first kiss only days ago, and I don’t know if make-out sessions are even something adults do.

Would Anders want to make out with me? Or would he think me wanting to kiss him was me asking for more? Do I want more? God, yes, I do. I’m scared, but my body craves all the desires he’s awoken in me.

I want to belong to him, I want him to own my body, to make it his in every way possible, but I have no idea how to tell him that, or even if I should. He told me he likes control, so should Iwait for him to decide he wants to fuck me? Would he be upset or turned off if I made the first move?

Uncertainty keeps me still, my hands tucked beneath my cheek, my mouth watering with the urge to taste him again. In the shower, my knees hurt when they pressed into the hard tub, but at his feet I felt more powerful than I ever have before. I don’t understand why. I was arguably in a vulnerable position, but knowing that I made him feel good, knowing that I made him lose control, felt like a victory.

I want that again. I want to make him crave me the way I crave him. I want to push him to act, to take me the way he keeps hinting he wants to. But right now, he’s holding me like I’m precious, fragile, not like he wants to ravish me, and I don’t know how to take that.

“Are you okay?” he asks, the timbre of his voice vibrating through his chest and into my cheek.

“I’m fine.”

“Then why haven’t you looked at the TV once in the last twenty minutes?”

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