Page 23 of Caged By the Stranger (Bad Decisions #1)

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 crew is 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.

Does he have regulars there that he sees? Does he participate in that group flogging night that he mentioned?

I realize he’s paused halfway to the bed, but I don’t dare look. Good. Maybe I shocked him for once instead of the other way around.

The sound of his towel swishing moves closer. His slender fingers appear at my right, placing the chain with the key on it down on the nightstand. And then…he stands. Silently. Like he’s waiting.

I stare at that little silver key, wondering what it means. Of course, it means freedom is mere inches away from me. All I’d have to do is reach out and grab it. I could probably do so quicker than him, but I sense it’s another test.

Or perhaps…it’s not a test at all. Not the kind I imagined. I think he’s…waiting. Waiting to see if I take my chance.

Damn it. Damn it to hell.

My face burns, and I turn my head away to hide the truth on it. I’m not here for a key. Not really. I knew that even before I decided to storm over here. And now… he knows it too.

He sucks in a ragged breath that spreads gooseflesh all over my body like wildfire. It’s a sound of approval that goes right to my nuts. I’m in awe of just how much I’ve yearned for that approval.

“Shirt off,” he whispers. “You’re covered in sand.”

I blink through a wave of embarrassment for being scolded.

A splash of misery for disappointing him in even the most trivial way.

Sitting up, I reach for the hem of my tank top and start drawing it over my head.

Fingers brush the back of my neck, making me shiver, and he helps me tug it over my head.

I watch it fall to the floor at his bare feet.

When the bottom of his towel sways, I lean forward and plant my hands back on the mattress in an effort to look away.

The soft sound of it dropping to the floor heightens my building arousal and the fear that I seem to get off on. Is he naked? Fully naked?

He just got out of the shower. Why would he put his Speedo back on? Of course, he’s probably naked.

“Grab the lube for me, handsome, will you?” he croons and walks off toward the door.

I cringe at the order, but reach for it even as I do.

Pulling the drawer open, I’m well aware of the key sitting on the surface of the nightstand just above my hand.

It’s like it’s taunting me, telling me I don’t have to do this…

whatever this is. It’s no longer a symbol of freedom, but rather an icon denoting two paths—one where I grab it and walk out of here.

Another, where I ignore it and free-fall into the spell Rory casts over me, beckoning me to be ‘ brave ’ and try new things.

The lights dim, calming my trepidation and spiking my anticipation. It’s beginning—everything I don’t know that I’m asking for.

The padding sound of his footsteps on the carpeting returns. A hand slides down my forearm and covers the bottle in mine. Lips dust feather light against my shoulder as he pulls it from my grip.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

A hand trails down my spine and circles over the small of my back. I’m suddenly buzzed again, as though his touch is the equivalent of drinking four beers.

“You keep surprising me, Charlie. I’m so proud of you.”

Proud of me ? For what? Through my wondering, I feel myself preening over that odd bit of praise. My dick hums in approval.

The sound of the lube cap flicking open interrupts my latest self-discovery.

I try to breathe evenly so he won’t know just how much I’m reacting to this peculiar dance.

His palm slides across the top of my ass and grips my hip.

He uses me to leverage himself onto the bed, treating my body as a handle.

It’s something I imagine familiar lovers do or disrespectful clients of sex workers.

I’m oddly aroused by either similarity, both being used by and being familiar to him.

His other palm runs over my taint and then my balls until he reaches the cable of the cage. I wince at the soreness there from all my movements today during the volleyball match when his lubed fingers connect.

“Aw, baby…didn’t you lube this up before the match?”

Baby… I trip over that word for a moment, and its effect on me. I’ve never cared for it and usually roll my eyes when I hear it in movies. Perhaps it’s that I finally have his concern and undivided attention that’s the real allure.

“No,” I mumble.

“Promise me, if you plan to keep wearing it, that you’ll take better care of yourself.”

That makes it sound like I have the option.

I don’t understand. Is it his way of reminding me that the key is readily available within my reach?

Does he not want me to wear it any longer?

I mean, not that I planned to, but suddenly, it seems strange to imagine going back to life without it on. I’ve grown so…used to it.

He doesn’t press me for an answer, continuing to massage the tender skin around my sac.

It’s pleasant just like the other times, but there’s an eagerness building inside of me.

His favorite word, ‘ greedy ,’ comes to mind, considering I just came last night.

It feels like we’re living on borrowed time, though, with the cruise ending tomorrow.

After that, all this chaos stops. I have to go back to my normal life without cock cages and strange compliments.

His hand moves to the cage. A greasy fingertip surprises me, swiping down the slit in my cock.

The bigger surprise is the feel of teeth on my right ass cheek.

It was just a nibble, nothing painful, but unexpected.

My cock twitches inside the cage. He must have noticed because he makes that satisfied hum and moves to my other cheek, treating it to the same biting action.

Will I have teeth marks when he’s done? Picturing it, I warm from head to toe.

His whiskers brush across my ass, bringing the flesh to life. Lips touch down on my hole and stay, holding a kiss there.

I shudder and blow out a breath, trying not to tremble at the reverence of the act. My thighs inch further apart. It’s a covert way of giving my thanks. When he gives a hum of approval, I’m grateful he can’t see me blush.

His mouth leaves, and I’m left in the darkness with only the low hum of the television, wondering what his next move is.

Is it just the unknown that thrills me? Rory’s not an unknown.

I’ve messed around with him more times than I have with anyone besides my old college fuck buddy.

Will I grow unenthralled once he’s run through all his moves like I did with that college tryst?

“Sorry. It’s time for your favorite part,” he warns just before I hear the squelch of the lube bottle.