Page 13 of Caged By the Stranger (Bad Decisions #1)

Missing the continental breakfast for sleeping in was well worth it.

I was able to score a cup of coffee and not have to see a single soul other than the yacht staff.

I even took my time exploring the ship after I was assured that ‘ Mr. McDonnell went ashore with the rest of his guests after breakfast .’

Being that I’ve never been to Hawaii before, though, I head off the ship and onto the boardwalk, where I hail a cab.

The colorful takes me around the island, giving me a pocket tour which I enjoy as much as one who’s hard up in a cock cage can.

With the windows down and the island air flowing in, though, I have to say it does something to appease my soul.

I can kind of see how people like Rory might think throwing money at a yacht is a worthy expense.

Ha! People like Rory. As if there are others.

What am I saying? There’s a whole club back home full of people like Rory. Am I…one of them? I went there too. More than once. Greedy , he called me. Was I greedy?

Maybe I was. Look where it got me.

“We can head back now,” I inform the driver, a sudden sadness making my chest tighten.

I just…wanted to feel good. I wanted to feel good the only way I knew how. Was that so much to ask? That guy didn’t have to leave me high and dry.

Rory said no one would do this to be cruel.

That the man had plans for me if he put my cock in a cage.

Does that mean he came back? What if he came back when I wasn’t there?

Fuck. Maybe I missed my chance by being on this stupid cruise and letting Rory lube up my sore balls for nothing.

I wish he’d never told me that story about him and his stupid professor.

It’s a fantasy. I’m sure bonds like that only happen once in a blue moon and certainly only with people of the right mindset.

Which I’m not. Look how miserable I’ve been.

It’s why I can’t understand why Rory’s suggestion of finding a boyfriend keeps flitting through my mind.

I’m probably just depressed. Depressed at not being able to use my dick.

I have the driver drop me off at a hotel near the dock, where I grab lunch on the patio to eat my feelings.

I know we have until evening before roll call on the ship, but my sightseeing ambitions are over for the day, short of trying to relax some of the tension from my body.

Heading to reception, I inquire about their spa, only to learn that their masseuses are booked up for the day.

Why did I even check? I should just assume by now that there’s a black cloud following me overhead.

Heading back toward the dock, I console myself. I have an entire superyacht all to my lonesome for the evening, fully equipped with not one but two hot tubs. That will have to do.

Back in my cabin, I slip into my trunks and grab a towel from the bathroom.

It shouldn’t take me as much time as it does to decide on which hot tub to head toward—the one on the lower deck or the one up on the flydeck, which I’ve learned it’s called.

While the one on the flydeck reminds me of where I first ran into Rory on the yacht, the one on the lower deck is in a prime spot where I’ll be seen by anyone who happens to return to the ship early, so up I go.

As I ascend the stairs to the flydeck, though, I hear Carmen’s infectious laughter. It’s par for the course that I can’t find any damn privacy.

At least, it’s only her, but still. As long as I can slip in without her noticing anything clinging to my metal-shaped bulge downtown, I should be fine. Ascending the last stair, I stop in my tracks, fully convinced now about that black cloud. It’s Carmen and…Rory.

Fuck.

“Hey! Where have you been all day? You missed everything!” Carmen scolds me.

“I…took a tour of the island,” I blurt, holding my hands in front of my waist so my towel hangs over my groin.

“What? By yourself? You should have told me. I would have gone with you.”

“It was fine. I caught up on some sleep and then just did some sightseeing.” I wave a hand dismissively and turn to head back down the stairs, but her voice cuts me off.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you getting in?”

“No. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting anything, I can assure you,” Rory chuckles along with her, telling me I’ve clearly missed some inside joke.

I turn back around, prepared to say that there’s not enough room, but that would be a lie. It’s the biggest fucking hot tub I’ve ever seen. And I have my shorts on and am holding a towel. If I leave, I’ll look like I’m avoiding Rory.

Son of a bitch.

Kicking my flip-flops off, I curse my fortune and make my way to the side of the tub farthest from Rory.

Turning to the side, I try to act casual, bending over and placing my towel down for easy access when it comes time to get out.

It’s just an excuse to hide my girded loins from the two of them.

Stepping backward over the edge of the tub, I dip one foot in the water, performing the world’s most awkward descent into a hot tub.

Fuck if I’m turning around to face either of them with wet trunks on, though, until my waist is below the surface.

Carmen can think I have the grace of a drunk gazelle for all I care.

“Nice, isn’t it?” she sighs, leaning her head back on the edge of the tub.

It would be nicer if my cage hadn’t just made a soft thunk noise as it tapped the seat of the hot tub. It would also be nicer if I were alone and not four feet away from a wet, shirtless CEO who’s seen my cock in a cage and palmed my nuts. But that’s just me.

“Yeah. It’s great.”

“Honestly, Charlie, are you having a good time at all?” she asks, tilting her head with a tone of motherly concern shining through her cheery expression.

“I said it was great.” I let out on a puff of forced laughter, turning a palm up as I sling my elbow over the side of the tub. “But just out of curiosity, how many margaritas have you had?”

“Two. One for each of my children.” Reaching out, she picks up her salt-rimmed glass off the ledge and takes a sip. “This one is for my husband.”

“That could account for why I don’t appear to be as chipper as you, but trust me, I’m overjoyed on the inside.” Lies. All fucking lies, but I’m a salesman, after all.

Chuckling, she sets her drink back down. “Oh! I know what’ll cheer you up. You can join our game.”

“Game?” I glance around, although I don’t know what I expect to find up here on the flydeck. A chess set, maybe?

“Yeah, we’re playing Truth or Truth.”

Oh, brother. Only three margaritas?

“Do you mean Truth or Dare?”

“No. Truth or Truth ,” she affirms. “We decided that Truth or Dare might require getting out, so we altered the game for the time being.”

I glance at Rory, whose eyes are closed, his head leaning back with the hint of a smile on his face. Truth or Truth would have been a nice game when I first ran into him up here yesterday.

“I think I’ll pass, but thanks.”

“Oh, come on!” Carmen moans. “I already know plenty about you, and Rory’s not judgmental, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“It’s all right, Carmen,” Rory pipes in. “Some people just like their privacy.”

Is he…sticking up for me? And I love how we’re all on a first-name basis now. Does that mean she showed him her chastity cage? This is so fucking awkward.

I have to say, however, that the soothing sensation of the water on my tense muscles and my heavy-laden cock are balancing out some of my discomfort.

My dick almost feels buoyant, submerged deep in the tub.

It’s a strange sensation after walking around with the cage weighing me down for the past week.

It makes it feel like something is missing.

“I think it’s your turn in the hot seat anyway,” Rory reminds her.

“I have two teenagers. Nothing scares me,” she boasts. “Ask away.”

“Charlie? Do you want to take this one?” Rory asks, pulling himself up out of the tub. “I need a refill.”

I had tried not to notice what was beneath the surface on his side of the tub, but underwater lights left little to the imagination.

His tall frame rises as he turns to step out onto the flydeck in a snug-fitting black Speedo.

Rivulets of water trickle down his legs, the dark hair plastered to the definition in his muscles.

I wish I possessed that part of his demeanor—neither overconfident nor insecure.

Averting my gaze from his obscenely fit profile, I focus on Carmen.

The last thing I need is Rory McDonnell thinking I’m checking him out.

“Give me your best shot,” Carmen challenges, grinning like a tipsy Cheshire Cat.

At least one of us is having a good time. Good for her. I find myself smirking and shaking my head at my friend.

Watching her adjust one of her large hoop earrings, it occurs to me that she’s a bit more glammed up in the jewelry department than the times I see her at conventions.

There’s a tennis bracelet on her wrist with tiny diamonds and a silver chain with a small diamond pendant resting between her clavicles.

I’m not looking for state secrets since I didn’t even want to play this stupid game, but I ask the first thing that comes to mind due to curiosity.

“All right. Do you always wear that much jewelry in a hot tub?”

My answer is a snort-laugh. “I’m on vacation, Charlie. On a superyacht! Do you know where Mason and I have vacationed for the last twenty years?”