Page 26 of Caged By the Stranger (Bad Decisions #1)

I nod once and let out a grunt, trying to figure out how I can disentangle myself.

What happens now? Surely, he’ll get up and make some snarky remark soon.

Thank goodness this cruise is over tomorrow.

I can go back to Portland and bury myself in my routine without having to interact with him again.

We won’t ever have to talk about this. Our strange association outside of work is done.

His palm slides to my stomach, though. Whiskers nuzzle my neck, and his thumb rubs back and forth over my abs.

“Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?”

I feel that intimate whisper all the way to the deepest part of my tender channel. Is he doling out lip service as a consolation prize for his victory over me falling for his charms? No one can mean the things this guy says, even if they are good for my ego.

“I dreamt about you being in my bed so many times,” he murmurs, giving me a squeeze and cuddling closer. He…what?

“Wait until you see the one at my house,” he continues. “You’ll never want to leave it.”

His house? Does he think I’m going to come over for a repeat…at his house? How…how would that work if I even wanted to? I can’t believe I did this once, and he’s talking like he has me in the bag.

Oh God, he’s kissing my neck again. My heart thumps thick in my throat. This is… It’s bad.

I can’t become some secret plaything of the damn CEO. Tensing, I suck in a breath and push myself up, but I don’t get far.

“Hey, hang on. We made quite the mess,” he chuckles.

The mattress shifts, and I see my opening when he gets up. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I’m poised to get up and snag my trunks. Instead, I freeze and clench my asscheeks together.

He’s right. We did make a mess. His release dribbles out of me.

Oh, fuck. I’m leaking on his bed a foot away from where I just left a small lake.

Rory turns back to me with his towel in his hand.

There’s a strange smile on his face. It’s not the mischievous ones I’ve seen before.

This one looks almost adoring. It must be how self-conscious I feel at the moment.

He drops to a knee in front of me like he’s going to clean me up the way he did the other day.

How much clean-up is he planning? My ass too? And then what?

First, all that crazy shit he said. Then, he insinuated that I could come to his house. What is happening? I don’t want to find out. I have to get out of here.

Springing up, I sidestep past him, avoiding eye contact. Bending down, I snag up my shorts, cringing when something warm dribbles down the inside of my thigh. I stuff my feet into the leg openings of my damp trunks, hopping toward the door with each step.

“Hey, hold on. Don’t you want to—”

“I’m good,” I cut him off. “I’ll…shower in my room. Goodnight.”

I’m almost in the clear, mere feet from the door. He must think I’m so disgusting, sliding my trunks up my legs with an ass full of cum dripping from me and my cock covered in my release. I don’t give a fuck, though. I’m in survival mode.

“Charlie, wait.”

I freeze. Why do I freeze? The door handle is right there. How come I stop every time he calls my name?

I feel a hand at my waist. Naturally, I turn like a freaking puppet, helpless to his touch.

“I think you forgot something.”

Raising my gaze, I don’t connect with his. I stop on the key dangling from the chain in his grasp.

Holy shit. I still have the cage on. The locked cage. The freaking reason I told myself I came in here in the first place. If it were possible to melt into a puddle of lava on the floor right now, I’d do so.

Dropping to his knees, he waits. Once again, I strip for a man I never thought I’d strip for, lowering my trunks to just below my cock.

He’s still naked. The glow from the TV painting enough light on him that the definition of his body looks like a work of art right now.

The position is all too similar to our first interaction in his club, making my knees weak.

I’m positive I have congealed cum clinging to my cage, but he makes no protests, gently gripping my cage. It shifts, and I feel the lock give way when he turns the key. The cable loosens, and he slips it over my sac, freeing me.

It’s nothing at all what I imagined it would feel like. I feel light as air, so light it’s like my cock and balls are missing even though I can see they’re still attached to me. I’m free. Finally free, but it feels like I’ve lost something.

Glancing up at me, he’s silent. I wait. I don’t know if I’m expecting him to speak.

He always seems to be two steps ahead of me, and so self-assured, I just assumed he’d have something to say.

Maybe I wait because I want him to say something, but he doesn’t.

I certainly have no idea what to say. And I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with that look of hope in his eyes.

Is he waiting for me to ask him to put it back on? For a second, I consider it.

And then…I regain my fucking senses. What the actual fuck am I thinking? Why would I want it back on when my life’s goal since the second he slapped it on me was to get it off?

Turning without a word, I yank my trunks up and wrench the door open. I breeze down the corridor in swift strides, my spent cock wagging back and forth in freedom. I’m free, I remind myself as I open the door to my cabin. As a twinge of emptiness washes over me, I remind myself again—I’m free.