Page 9 of Caged By the Stranger (Bad Decisions #1)

I’ll give him points for being delicate.

I should be grateful he’s respecting my apparent desire for privacy by not asking me to elaborate, but his surprising discretion just embarrasses me further.

It’s embarrassing because my gut instinct suddenly has me wanting to be completely transparent.

It’s another thing about this entire ordeal that I realized last night—it’s left me feeling emotionally vulnerable on a level I’ve never experienced.

“I…I don’t know.”

Sliding the rocks glass toward me, he rests his hands on the edge of the bar. Brow creased, he looks rightly stupefied by my contradiction.

Fucking hell. I never imagined talking about my sex life to a complete stranger.

Taking a healthy gulp of my drink, I wait for the burn to make its way down my throat. We’re two adults who’ve both been to a sex club. Get over yourself, Charlie. It’s not like the mystery man is here to hear any of this.

“At first it seemed kind of hot,” I admit, because…for a few blissful moments in that room, it was. And, if I’m being honest, when I’m not freaking out, it still seems hot for some completely fucked-up reason I can’t explain. “But now, no,” I affirm. “Not anymore.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry I gave you the card then,” his reply comes with earnest remorse.

“I was just trying to help, I swear.” I feel an inch smaller under that odd apology as he takes a drink and then scrubs his hand over his dark stubble.

“You know, if you’re not up for casual encounters, that might not be the place for you.

Maybe get yourself a boyfriend instead.”

God. He’s missing the point here. Granted, he doesn’t know the whole story, but I don’t have the patience right now to listen to misguided life advice.

“I don’t need or want a boyfriend. I just…need to talk to them about it, but they haven’t been back and the doorman won’t tell me who it is.”

“Privacy is a big part of those places. He’s just doing his job.”

“I know that, but I have a problem that can’t be fixed without knowing who my visitor was.”

“You’re pregnant?” he asks, smirking.

And there’s the fucking Rory I pegged him to be when I noticed that twinkle in his eye the night he gave me that card. What the fuck was I thinking going to a damn place this guy recommended?

“It’s not funny.” I glower.

“Did you catch something?”

“What?” I’m not sure why I ask for confirmation.

I know I heard him correctly. He’s looking at me seriously this time, the smartass-ness completely gone from his expression, as though he’s reigned himself in from my scolding.

“No. I get tested, and the club says all their visitors have to show their tests to enter.”

“I’m not sure I’m understanding the issue here.” He frowns. “What exactly is the problem? Do you have feelings for the person?”

I know I was vague, but damn. That has me snorting. “I don’t even know them. How can I have feelings?”

Shrugging, he straightens up and reaches for his glass again. “It’s an intimate experience. Of course, feelings can be involved. There’s no shame in that.”

Wow. That’s deep coming from a guy who hands out cards to sex clubs.

“Whatever. No, it’s not that.”

Sighing, I ease onto a stool and face the ocean view.

So much for this brilliant idea. Gazing out at one of the islands in the distance, I accept the fact that I’ll just have to hunt down a very expensive and discreet nut specialist to cut through this contraption when I get home.

With any luck, I’ll get this promotion and not have to bat an eye at the bill.

I feel eyes on me and find Rory squinting at me in thought. “You felt violated in some way and want to talk it out with the man?” he wagers.

Apparently, he didn’t know I had given up on his sage advice.

I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to him about being possibly ‘ violated .’ It’s kind of hard to consider it a violation when I willingly stuck my cock through a hole, looking for a good time.

My trust , however, was definitely violated.

“Something like that,” I mutter, taking a drink, but find his curious gaze still on me when I finish. The hell with it. I don’t need him prodding me about this in front of others on the cruise and accidentally being overheard later. And I don’t know a single other person who has been to a sex club.

“He…he put something on me.” His reply is yet another furrowed brow, so I elaborate, “Something I can’t get off.”

His body flinches backward. “Jesus. Did he brand you or something?”

“What? No. It…”

For a moment, images assault my mind. It makes me realize I had no business walking into that place.

Leaning over the bar to whisper, I feel like a complete idiot.

There isn’t even a bird in sight for miles to overhear me, but leaving Rory to his imagination is clearly a mistake. Branding? Do people actually do that?

“Something metal … on my cock .”

His eyes widen and his brows hike. “A cage?”

His quick guess has my face burning over my previous ignorance of such things. “Yeah,” I mutter, “And he fucking locked it.”

The wind whistles around us in the silence that follows. I peek over at him, too curious to see his reaction now that it’s had a moment to sink in.

“Wow. He must really like you.”

“ Like me? Who the fuck would do something like that to someone if they like them? I’m fucking miserable. It’s been a week.”

“Damn. You’ve got it bad, too.”

I blink. Are we even speaking the same language?

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Shrugging like I’m missing the obvious, he says matter-of-factly, “You’re already longing for your keymaster after only a week.”

Keymaster. A rush of blood pulses inside my already engorged flesh at the word. At the same time, common sense and my pre-caged Charlie brain cells see red over the thought of someone claiming ownership over me or a part of my body, and that ownership now being public knowledge.

“I’m not longing for anyone . I’m longing to get this fucking thing off me and get my dick back.”

“You’re sure?” Why he looks so fucking quizzical asking me that is astounding.

“Yes, I’m sure! What kind of question is that?”

“Well, you went there for an experience, right? Maybe you should make sure you consider that so you don’t have any regrets about removing it preemptively, in case it’s just a matter of you not being comfortable admitting the thrill of the chase to yourself.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake with this guy.

“‘ Thrill of the chase ?’ Are you out of your fucking mind? I’ve been wearing this thing all fucking week at work, making sure no one is in the bathroom each time I have to take a piss, wondering if it’s going to be stuck on me the rest of my life. What thrill is there in that?”

His eyes seem to soften, and his lower lip pouts sympathetically as he leans on the bar.

“I doubt that’s what your man intended,” he soothes, startling me when his hand rests gently over the top of my wrist. “Giving someone a cage is a huge compliment. It means they’re so taken with you they can’t bear the thought of sharing you with yourself or anyone else, and that the idea of you being hard and craving only them for relief is…

well, if you ask me, there’s nothing more erotically intimate than that type of connection.

Can you imagine? Needing someone on that level? The passion would be endless.”

My throat is completely parched, making me think I wouldn’t be able to respond even if I could find words as I stare at the peculiar daze that seems to have come over Rory’s eyes.

The fantasy he described pulled not only himself onto a higher plane, but me as well.

My chest is heavy. My lungs are burning under my rampant heartbeat at the thought of what he described.

Someone being so taken with me they can’t stand the thought of me getting pleasure from anyone but them.

It’s nothing I ever imagined turning me on.

It’s not.

It isn’t. It’s ridiculous.

It’s this fucking cage, fucking with my blood supply and my brain. What he described is a fairytale and the asshole behind the panel was just a sick bastard playing a cruel joke because that’s the way life works. Tugging my hand away nonchalantly, I pick up my drink and wet my lips.

“Well, I don’t need him . I just need my dick back so I can get on with my life. Now, can you help me or not? Do you know anyone at the club you could maybe talk to…discreetly?”

Blowing out a breath, he retreats from my personal bubble and tucks his hands in his back pockets. “Rules are rules, I’m afraid. I’m sorry. Have you tried picking the lock?”

“Of fucking course I have.”

“Are you hard right now?”

I choke on my scotch and come up sputtering. “What?”

That gets me a peculiar look. He motions with his head toward the stairwell to the deck below us. “I’ve got some lube in my room. You can get them off sometimes, carefully, without the key, but it won’t be easy if you’re hard.”

Oh. That’s why he wanted to know. Prize idiot award to Charlie North. Am I uptight?

“No. I’m not fucking hard,” I say dryly, trying to sound frustrated and less like an embarrassed virgin. “Why would I be?”

For some reason, he snorts. What the heck is that smirk for? Slapping me on the shoulder, he nods toward the stairwell. “Easy, tough guy. Come on, then. We’ve got an hour before dinner. Let’s see if we can set you free.”

He starts strolling toward the stairs, drink in hand. He can’t be serious.

“What? Right now? With you? ”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like you’ve had much luck on your own.” Glancing back, he bats his eyelashes. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

I sit like dead weight, contemplating how good or bad an idea it is to enlist the help of a guy who gave me a card to a sex club in removing a cage.

I can honestly see both the pros and the cons.

The thought of showing my debacle to anyone, however, is as enticing as going at the cable again with wire snippers.

“Unless,” he adds thoughtfully, “you’d prefer to wait for your master?”

My feet hit the deck a second later. This cocky ass prick.

“Where’s your fucking room?”