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I mumble my goodnights to Carmen, Niel, and the others when we arrive back on the yacht. Tromping my way down the corridor to my cabin, my limbs are heavy from the beer I sulked over. It emphasizes the weight at my groin, a cruel reminder of my attachment to the man who occupies the next cabin. Scanning my room, I find the tweezers where I tossed them to the floor this morning and fetch them.

Flopping down on my bed, I shove the waistband of my trunks down and scoot back against the pillows. It’s time to be rid of this thing once and for all.

Inserting the end of the tweezers into the keyhole, I press them against the locking mechanism. Or, at least, what I think is the locking mechanism. I’m going to take a lock picking course after all this is over, I swear.

Gripping the section where the sac cable slides into the hollow metal frame on the underside of the cage, I wiggle it back and forth, hoping it will help the mechanism inside give way. Each tug I make to the cable applies pressure to my trapped balls, tugging grunts from my lips.

“This is such bullshit,” I mutter, shifting on the bed and widening my legs.

Just as I shift my cage to go at the keyhole from a different angle, I hear commotion next door. The sound of pipes running filters through the walls. The droning of water falling has me straightening.

Rory’s back, and he must be in the shower. Well, good for him. I’m glad one of us can relax after a long day under the sun at the beach, and the world’s most humiliating volleyball match.

Shaking my head, I hunch over again and line up the tweezers. I hope he’s in there soaping himself up and thinking about how he can’t toy with me anymore.

Yeah, he’s probably plotting his next visit to his club. Maybe someone else caught his eye, and he’s already got another custom cage being designed for them. It’s not impossible. The more I think about how possible it is, the more my stomach turns.

“Ouch! Damn it!”

The tweezers fall from my hand after they slip and jab me in the cock. Fuck that hurt! I check for blood, but they didn’t pierce my skin, just grazed it.

Fucking Rory. This fucking ship. What do I care if he didn’t bat an eye at me all day and how ‘special’ he supposedly thinks I am? If I were so special, he’d be over here knocking on my door, not ignoring me and taking the world’s longest shower like he’s planning on plopping into bed for a relaxing night of sleep afterward.

I palm my tweezers again and rub the red mark on my cock, wincing. This is such bullshit. I shouldn’t have to torture myself when there’s a fucking key next door and a man who has zero plans to use it. I have the sudden urge for him to see me, to take one last look at what he’s done.

Scooting off the bed, I yank my trunks up and whip the tweezers at my wall. I’m not going to need them. Rory McDonnell is going to get this thing off me, whether he likes it or not. He’s going to look at me, talk to me, and have to deal with me. If it stops him from calculating his next sexual mark, it’s the least I can do for humanity. He wanted me. He’s going to get me. He can’t just throw me away.

CHAPTER 12

I wish the alcohol hadn’t worn off as much as it has. A flutter of nerves takes flight in my belly. I’d run back to my room and do a shot for more courage if I hadn’t already beaten on Rory’s door like a repo man. What am I even worried about?

I can stand his teasing and his riddles. I’ve tolerated them well enough already. But what if he turns me away? What do I do then?

He wouldn’t. Would he?

The door cracks open, revealing him in all his wet, naked glory. His chest is devoid of one tiny silver key. A cloud of steam looms in the air behind him, seeping out of his bathroom. He looks…good wet.

The surprise on his face feels like a small victory, and at the same time, annoys me. Who else did he expect to come calling so late? The towel around his hips is clenched in his grip. As he tucks it in on itself, I find myself licking my lips.

“Charlie… To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ignoring his fake pleasantries, I charge past him, bumping his shoulder on the way. His cabin is like a portal, sucking me deeper inside as though I’m on autopilot. I have no plan, I realize, other than I wanted him to have to see me.

Stopping at the side of his bed, I stare down at the clean comforter, wondering if he changed his own linens or if his crewis accustomed to cleaning up his sex messes. I resent being a mess that’s erased by a trip to the laundry, not that I’d expect anyone to sleep under a pool of my cum.

“Did you enjoy the activities today?” he calls casually.

He’s still by the doorway, not stalking me like he did the last time. What’s with the small talk? He’s never made small talk with me. The threat of being dismissed now, just as easily as his soiled linens, sets in a panic. I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my trunks and drop them to the floor.

“Go get the key,” I tell him without turning around.

When I’m met with silence, I climb onto the bed to let him know I have no plans of leaving. He’s still in the room. I can feel it from the thickness in the air, but I refuse to look at him the way he refused to look at me all day.

The sound of soft footsteps on the carpeting moving toward the bathroom after a moment allows me to let out a long exhale. It means he’s listening. Good. Wiping my sweaty palms on the tops of my thighs, I notice the way I’m trembling already. Glancing up, I catch a nature program playing on his television, baffling me that he was in here watching this rather than seeking me out. I turn around and face the headboard. The thought of watching a documentary about spiders in the jungle isn’t the distraction I want for whatever is about to happen next.

I hear him return and ponder the odd curiosity of how his freshly washed skin must feel. I…haven’t touched him. He’s only touched me. Why do I feel cheated? It’s not like I ever sought to touch him.

Leaning forward, I place my hands on the mattress near his pillows so I don’t look like a statue. I know the deal. If I ask for something, he’ll want something in return, and I’m not playing that game tonight. At least, I don’t plan on debating it verbally. If he gets off on getting other people off, he can damn well do it with me instead of some new customer from his club.