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I come.

I come hard and ferociously, convulsing, with no control over my limbs. The mattress shakes, and all the while, his fingers remain dedicated, stuffed inside me, massaging my gland.

My back arches, and I lean into Rory’s mouth like a victim drunk on a vampire’s kiss. Smatterings of my release sprinkle my hand and my knees. My weight floats away like ashes in the wind until there’s nothing left but the familiar pull of my cage on my cock. I’m as light as the air, all my worldly troubles wiped from my mind, floating on an ethereal cloud of rapture.

My bones give way, and I fall, but it’s in slow motion. I’m still shuddering through every ripple coursing through me. My cock is still pulsing out the pent-up release its been denied. And I’m…warm. So comfortably warm.

Something brushes my arm. Through my haze, I realize it’s Rory’s thumb. His chest is pressed against my back. I’m on my side and he’s cradling me from behind, one arm acting as a pillow underneath my head.

“I’ve got you,” he soothes.

A humbling self-awareness pricks my blissful bubble like a needle. Did he lower me to the bed? How long have I been lying here moaning and gasping while he held me?

For some reason, I think of that time when I was fourteen and my brother Brett burst in on me in the bathroom where I was jerking off. I’d been looking at a model in an issue of Men’s Health—a male model. I knocked the magazine off the counter in time so that he didn’t see what was helping me get off, but I still couldn’t stand the sound of his laughter or the razzing he and my other brothers gave me after he ratted me out. While my current mortification feels close to that, I still don’t move. Because…it also feels nice being held after that emotional upheaval, and Rory…well, like he said, he’s not laughing. I have a feeling that if I moved, making an awkward attempt to leave, histeasing would resurface, though. I’m not sure how I feel about how it means he seems most happy when I’m completely undone and vulnerable.

I don’t have to dwell on it much longer because he pulls away. Wait. Did I do something wrong?

A dim light flickers on near the headboard, a rude glow snuffing out the darkness. I swallow at the sight of the mess in front of me on his comforter. It’s what he wanted. It’s whatIwanted, but…damn. The amount of evidence is damning considering the fuss I made.

Suddenly, he’s in front of me. Kneeling on the floor, he drags his towel over my knees and then my stomach. My face is burning. I didn’t imagine him to be an aftercare type of person. No one’s cleaned me up before, and I’m at odds over how to act. Awkwardly, I rise on one elbow and silently reach for the towel to let him know I’m a big boy who can take care of myself, but then he grips the cage and starts to dab at the dribbles running down my cock. It’s too much. Just like everything else with him.

“I…I can do that,” I stammer, grabbing the towel and backing away.

He releases it, watching me with curious eyes. They look darker than usual, as though they’re full of hunger and wonder, but I tell myself it’s my imagination. I rise on wobbly legs. The carpeting is a cruel reminder that I’ve fallen back to earth. I’m still trembling from head to toe. I don’t know how I’ll even be able to walk back to my room.

What do I do now? My debt is settled. Because now that my balls are drained and my head is clearing, I remember that’s why we did what we just did—to clear my violations. I glance at the door, knowing it’s how I can flee this awkwardness.

When I look back at Rory, his expression has fallen. For someone who always appears so confident and self-assured, the sad grace in his features leaves me in awe with a pang of guilt.I have no reason to feel like I’ve let him down. I gave him more than I ever intended to give when I stormed in here a while ago.

Wrapping the towel haphazardly around my waist, I rush toward the door. There’s too much light, too much weight from his gaze, too much satiation in my exhausted limbs, too much tenderness to my spent cock. I have neither the fortitude nor emotional capacity to deal with any more of his banter or riddles right now if he starts up again.

“Charlie…” he calls when I’m mere feet from the door.

And like a programmed robot, I stop. Why did I stop? Move, Charlie. Leave!

“You’re forgetting something.”

I turn, ready to do battle and tell him I’m not in the mood for any more of his tricks, but I find him taking a knee in front of me. His hands go to the place where I tucked the towel around my hips.

Shit. It’s his towel. His towel, soiled with my release.

I stand numbly as he pulls it away. He’s already seen everything. What do I care if he sees it again?

When his hands let go of it and reach for my cage, my spine goes rigid. Is he…going to suck me off over the cage? A zap of electricity snakes up my spine at the thought, even though I’m so drained I doubt I could come again.

But then his fingers lift the cage, and he leans in. The metal jostles, and I hear a clicking noise. Then another click. And another.

The combination.

How could I have forgotten about that? It was the reason I got on that bed in the first place.

His hands move to the towel in my grasp again. I stare dumbly as he tucks it back in place around my hips. He rises. Our gazes lock, and it’s like staring down into a dark well. He’s never been this speechless before. Part of me wants to knowwhat unspoken words he’s holding back. Is it another game? Another trick? He looks…different now, though. Like a smoke screen has cleared. I must be dreaming. It’s wishful thinking I didn’t even wish for. Why am I not gone yet? I am so out of my element here.

When his lips part, that’s all it takes to spike my fear enough that I move. I cannot compete with Rory McDonnell. He left me clawing at a wall several times and now a blubbering mess in a puddle of my own cum on his bed. I don’t stand a chance of surviving with a shred of dignity if I tangle with him any further.

Wrenching the door handle open, I bolt out into the corridor. It’s not until I’m safely back in my cabin that I realize I don’t even have my shorts, and I’ve just stolen his towel. Leaning against my closed door, I pant like I ran a marathon.

I just let the CEO lick and finger my ass until I came to the point of nonsense,andI enjoyed it. And I think…he offered me the promotion.