Page 11 of Caged By the Stranger (Bad Decisions #1)

“Easy,” he soothes. “You need to spread your legs more so I can see what I’m doing.”

“I think you’ve seen more than most already,” I huff, shifting on the bed but widening my legs a fraction.

He lets out a breathless laugh, scooching forward.

It brings his knee higher up the inside of my thigh.

I feel slick skin against skin on the sensitive flesh around my sac where the cable is pressing—his fingertip…

covered in lube. The air in my lungs forms a painful bubble.

He’s…basting the tender skin there. His touch, gentle… soothing, even.

“Not like one of those rooms, is it?” he remarks softly. The small bit of understanding is enough to relax my rigid spine a fraction, and then he makes a sympathetic noise. “You’re getting raw here. Have you been putting lube around the ring?”

“No,” I grump, refusing to sound like everyone should know what to do with these things.

I make the mistake of glancing down, curious if my sore flesh became hideous overnight.

The sight of him crooking his slathered finger and the sensation of relief it’s bringing me has my blood going warm.

It’s a surreal sensation of being cared for when I least expected it.

And then my gaze meets his, sending a wash of flames up my face.

It makes this all too much of a reality for my liking, so I quickly look away, staring toward his cabin windows.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the shy type.”

“Shy’s got nothing to do with it. What’s your plan here, anyway?”

I hear the squelch of the lube bottle, and then his index finger returns along with his middle one, following the cable to the underside of my balls. That puts him dangerously close to my taint. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. If I hold my breath any longer, I might pass out.

“These things can come off without unlocking them,” he says lazily. “You just have to work your cock backward through the ring, and then it’s more manageable to work your sac out, but I don’t know if that’s going to work right now.”

No shit. What a fucking genius.

“I can’t work my cock backward. I’ll fucking break it.”

“Yeah, you will with how hard you are right now,” he agrees, but it’s not the hint of mirth in his voice that has me looking back at him.

My balls feel extra snug suddenly, as if that were possible, and…

warm. Glancing down, I suck in a gasp. His palm is cupping my protruding, caged sac.

“And I hate to break it to you, but these ,” he adds, giving them a gentle rub that has me biting back a whimper, “are so fucking full, there’s no way we’re going to be able to slip them through the ring like this.

It’s too tight. You need to come if you want any chance of getting out of this thing. ”

I blink at him, trying to absorb his words.

I know I heard him, but that warm palm cupping my balls has short-circuited something in my brain, robbing me of my ability to speak.

It’s my weakness—how pleasure feels immeasurably better when the touch comes from someone other than myself.

Something about this damn cage, though, is making me hyper responsive to that barest of contact, like my cock is beholden to someone who would set it free. To a…keymaster.

I don’t realize I’m still staring at him until he remarks curiously, “For someone who wants this off so badly, you don’t seem to be hating it.” Eyes narrowing in thought, he mumbles almost like he’s talking to himself, “Unless…”

“Unless what?” I let out in a breathy rush.

“Unless…you like showing it off to me.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t smirked or had that wicked glint in his eyes.

He looks perfectly serious. And maybe it’s all the damn blood rushed to my groin, starving my brain of oxygen, but a charge of static electricity flutters down my legs over how it almost looks like he’s hopeful my answer will be an affirmative.

What the fuck is that about?

This is Rory. Rory, who I barely know and works for the same fucking company that I do.

Rory, who’s on a work cruise with me, holding my fucking balls in his hand in a cabin on a cruise ship owned by the damn CEO of the company.

Rory, who invited me in here to help me out of this thing, not to make a pass at me.

Like I could fucking do anything in this damn cage right now, anyway, even if I did want to. What kind of cruel human being is he?

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m doing!” I snap, slapping his hand away. “Dropping trou in front of a stranger so I can hear smug jokes while he fondles my balls under false pretenses.” Leaning to the side, I reach down for my shorts. “You said you could help, jackass. Thanks for nothing.”

“Whoa. Hey, hey. I didn’t mean any offense,” he soothes, placing his hands on my shoulders and putting himself in my field of vision.

“I’m sorry. Come on. I’m only human.” He shrugs.

“You have to admit it’s kind of hot. Certainly, the highlight of this trip so far for me. ” He flashes an impish grin at me.

I sit back but still try to work my shorts up my leg with my foot to let him know where he can stick his apology. Grimacing, he pats the top of my knee and holds up an index finger.

“Just a minute. There’s one other thing we can try. I’ve got some tweezers. Maybe I can pick the lock.”

Yanking my shirt over my dick again, I huff, but stay seated for the mere fact that walking would be too painful right now. I don’t know how to take him or his backhanded compliments. He’s only human? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And how can this be hot to him if I can’t use my dick?

“Yeah. Good luck,” I grumble. “I’ve already tried that.” My warning doesn’t seem to deter him as he rifles through his bag of toys. “What’s with all the shit in your bag? Do you always pack like that for work trips?”

Brandishing a pair of tweezers, he smiles like it’s a fucking key to my problems. “I like to be prepared. Life is short. I’m not one to pass up a good time.”

He has no idea. “Yeah, well, word to the wise. Be careful what you wish for.” I gesture to my junk and casually pull my shirt up again, although not as high as last time.

My dick jostles, telling me he’s holding the cage. I pinch my eyes shut, trying to snuff out the sensations.

His soft hum helps to distract me. “I had one of these years ago. I was skeptical about it at first, too.”

“ At first? How long did you have it?”

“Mm, about a year.”

“A year? You wore one of these for a year? How the fuck did you manage that?”

The side of his finger grazes the tender flesh of my cock through the rings of the cage as he tilts it to the side.

I can feel his hair brushing against the top of my thigh, feel his warm breath on my cock, making it tingle.

I hope by some miracle he can get it off.

Better I embarrass myself by being turned on in front of another gay man than in front of a potentially straight doctor I’d have to pay when I get home.

I just hope Rory doesn’t think I’m hard because of him.

It’s not because of him. It’s this fucking cage.

“It was fine.” He laughs. “Great, actually. You get used to it. Like I said, it heightens the anticipation of when you do see the person. I’d be sitting in class, knowing that every time the professor looked at me, he was the only one who could let me out…

it made it this erotic secret between the two of us. ”

“Your fucking professor caged you?”

“Yeah. Robert. Good old Rob.” He lets out a happy-sounding sigh. “I still think about those days sometimes. Best year of my life.”

I can’t even imagine having had the courage to approach one of my professors or accepting their flirting if they had been the first to initiate when I was in college, let alone being open to being caged by someone in my early twenties.

Nothing about Rory’s reaction makes me doubt he enjoyed his experience.

My situation, however, is totally different.

If he meant to cheer me up, he didn’t. All I feel is jealousy.

Good old Rob clearly gave a damn about him.

“Yeah, well, at least that was consensual, not some stranger who slapped one on you and then disappeared without a backward glance.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll come back. Nobody would do this to be cruel.”

“I went back at our usual time, and he wasn’t there.”

He makes that obnoxious, thoughtful humming noise he does. “I’m sure he had a good reason. If he’s seen this cock and caged it, he’s definitely got plans for it.”

If he’s seen this cock? What’s that supposed to mean? Is he…flirting with me again?

“Well, the good news and the bad news is that this is a custom cage,” he continues. “It was made with love. Two locking mechanisms. It’s a masterpiece, really.”

My cock jostles again as he demonstrates what I already know, pointing out how I need the numeric code to be set for the key to engage a second locking mechanism on the bottom.

Now that I think about it, he probably fucking knew that even before he got out his damn tweezers.

I suddenly can’t take Rory’s comfortable touch, his smooth voice, or being talked about like sexual property any longer.

Nudging his hand away, I rise. “You know what? I’ve got this,” I inform him, stepping to the side out from between him and the end of the bed so I can grab my shorts. “Thanks for the help, but I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

“Not really, but suit yourself.” His overly pleased expression lets me know what a fool I just made of myself before I stomp out of the cabin, no freer than when I entered.

I don’t even get the luxury of blowing off steam by taking a long walk down the corridor because, wouldn’t you know my luck—mine is right fucking next to his.