Page 30 of Caged By the Stranger (Bad Decisions #1)

He surprises me with a quick thrust, sending him all the way home.

My jaw falls open, my eyes wide. He’s just emptied my brain with that bolt of bliss he shot through my core.

It was more urgent, more feral than last time.

Less delicate. And fuck, I didn’t mind it at all.

I don’t mind the sound of approval he makes, either, knowing I caused that sound.

“Is that what you needed, Charlie?” he asks, sounding strained.

I just want to bask in the fullness, not answer questions. I’m home. I’m complete. In this fleeting moment, I have what I’ve been yearning for. Why does he have to ruin it?

I try to rock forward, but his grip on my hips tightens, keeping me tight against his groin. Son of a bitch. He really expects an answer?

“Yes!” I bark in frustration, but it comes out sounding more like a plea.

He answers the plea, drawing back and then thrusting home again.

Whatever that speed and force did to my gland, to my channel, it reverberates through my entire being.

He’s just taken this game to a new level, and I have a feeling I’m well good and fucked in a new way—no pun intended.

He was holding out on me last time, taking it easy on me.

The next ten minutes are filled with the slap of skin and unholy noises that I didn’t know I was capable of.

My elbows are about ready to give out, and I’m worried I cinched the cage cable too tight.

The circulation to my cock is zilch at the moment.

I’m so full. I’ve resorted to whining and mewling, hoping he knows it means I want to come before I pass the fuck out.

Bending over me, his palm cups my swollen balls, and his tongue draws a stripe up the side of my neck.

“Fucking hell, Charlie. Do you feel that?” he pants.

His hand draws off my sac and slides up to the side of my ass.

It’s gone, and then there’s a rush of air.

I hear a crack of skin to skin and a zing of static explodes in my ass cheek.

It shoots right to my balls, which sets off that sweet internal explosion that sets my cock to erupting. “We fit so fucking good.”

We do. Bloody hell, we do. I bellow, still high on that slap to my ass as my cock unloads and my channel spasms around him. His chest makes a rumbling noise, and his hips give a few frantic thrusts before he jerks against my ass, buried deep, and comes.

I come down in a haze as though I’m being slowly lowered from the top of a fifty-story building. It’s that strange phenomenon of what was a drug-like high moments ago morphing into an awkward reality. His cock slips free of my hole, and I drip. The dreaded question pops into my head—now what?

The lights in the room, the wall of windows, everything comes back to me with vivid clarity. My clothes are feet away in a pile on the floor, warning me I’ll have to dress in front of him.

He peels himself off my back and gives my hip a squeeze. I feel lips touch down on my ass, pressing a kiss there.

“Mm. You definitely improved my Saturday evening.”

Um…nice.

Shit. I hate this part. This is why I’m a one-and-done guy.

I don’t know how to do small talk with guys.

What’s so wrong about just getting off and getting the hell out?

There doesn’t need to be words. I can talk, I just haven’t ever felt a desire to.

And with Rory…well, I have no fucking clue what the hell I should say to the CEO of the company I work for moments after I was begging for his dick.

Easing off the coffee table, I try to ignore the effect of his touch when he helps me by the arm.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over his gentlemanly tendencies.

Glancing down, I realize I have a decision to make.

Part of me wants to take this cage home in case I’m still plagued with the urge to wear it again.

Yet, it’s not mine. I mean, Rory had it here in a box in his house, so I can’t just assume it really was a gift.

Jeez, listen to me—thinking of this thing as a gift after all the fuss I made.

Trying to lift my balls, I come to a standstill. I can’t do the combination like this unless I hold a mirror underneath my sac. Fuck.

“Here, let me get that for you.”

Fan-tastic. Standing still, I wait as my CEO gets to his knees and enters the combination.

I’m tempted to ask him to confirm what the numbers stand for, but tell myself it doesn’t matter.

I’m convinced I will never understand Rory McDonnell or anything he does, even if I try.

Besides, I’m more concerned with understanding myself.

Apparently, I now like to bottom. I like to bottom while wearing a cock cage. Research accomplished.

“I was serious about dinner,” he remarks, getting to his feet and heading toward a door off the hallway, taking my filthy cage with him. “Have you eaten yet? I was just about finished in the kitchen. If you give me ten minutes, I can have a hot meal ready for us.”

Is he serious? He wants to eat dinner together like nothing just happened…again?

“Uh…yeah. I ate earlier. But thanks.” I dash to my clothes while his back is turned, but freeze with them in my hands, holding them over my junk when he turns around.

He holds my gaze with an indiscernible expression. The corner of his mouth finally ticks up along with his shoulder. “No worries.”

When he disappears into the next room, I waste no time dressing.

I’m sure plenty of people can have casual encounters and fuck buddies.

Hell, I had a fuck buddy in college for a semester.

I’m also sure, however, that most people aren’t fuck buddies with their boss.

This ends tonight. I got the answers I came for.

As I tie my shoes, a twisted voice inside my head mocks me. You mean you came for the answers that you got?

Rory returns, striding past me, naked as a jaybird.

He walks over to the cabinet. I slow my lacing as an excuse to see what he plans on doing with the cage.

There aren’t any other boxes in that cabinet, now that I think about it.

That shouldn’t please me. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t had other boxes in there before tonight.

I hear the lid slam shut, and he turns around, holding it out to me with a smile.

I stare for several awkward seconds before I accept it.

Does this mean he’s done with me? I want things to be done with him.

It’s just that it would be kind of fucked up if he wanted them done too, since he went to so much trouble and flair to make it happen.

“You left it on the ship, so I took the liberty of bringing it home for you. Seems like you might want to use it in the future.”

I plan on saying something. I even open my mouth to do so.

For as much as I’ve complained about him, he’s being very…

understanding and maybe even generous. I’m not coming back, and I think he knows it.

It feels like he’s letting me off the hook easily, and yet, I don’t think there’s a catch.

For once, there’s no playful remark, no riddle, no repercussions.

He’s literally leaving the decision in my hands in the form of this box and its contents.

I close my jaw, realizing nothing is going to come. This was certainly one hell of an experience, a tale I could tell someone years from now and they’d never believe it. I flash him a flicker of a smile with the corner of my mouth and then nod.

“Goodnight.” It’s all I can manage, but it will have to do.

I walk to the door with the box in my hand. I carry it all the way out to the Porsche sitting in his driveway. And then I drive home, ignoring how absurd it is to enjoy the feeling of his come seeping out of my ass, but doing so anyway, since it’s the last time it’s ever going to happen.