Page 18 of Caged By the Stranger
The side of his finger grazes the tender flesh of my cock through the rings of the cage as he tilts it to the side. I can feel his hair brushing against the top of my thigh, feel his warm breath on my cock, making it tingle. I hope by some miracle he can get it off. Better I embarrass myself by being turned on in front of another gay man than in front of a potentially straight doctor I’d have to pay when I get home. I just hope Rory doesn’t think I’m hard because of him. It’s not because of him. It’s this fucking cage.
“It was fine.” He laughs. “Great, actually. You get used to it. Like I said, it heightens the anticipation of when you do see the person. I’d be sitting in class, knowing that every time the professor looked at me, he was the only one who could let me out…it made it this erotic secret between the two of us.”
“Your fucking professor caged you?”
“Yeah. Robert. Good old Rob.” He lets out a happy-sounding sigh. “I still think about those days sometimes. Best year of my life.”
I can’t even imagine having had the courage to approach one of my professors or accepting their flirting if they had been the first to initiate when I was in college, let alone being open to being caged by someone in my early twenties. Nothing about Rory’s reaction makes me doubt he enjoyed his experience. My situation, however, is totally different. If he meant to cheer me up, he didn’t. All I feel is jealousy.Good old Robclearly gave a damn about him.
“Yeah, well, at least that was consensual, not some stranger who slapped one on you and then disappeared without a backward glance.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll come back. Nobody would do this to be cruel.”
“I went back at our usual time, and he wasn’t there.”
He makes that obnoxious, thoughtful humming noise he does. “I’m sure he had a good reason. If he’s seen this cock and caged it, he’s definitely got plans for it.”
If he’s seenthis cock?What’s that supposed to mean? Is he…flirting with me again?
“Well, the good news and the bad news is that this is a custom cage,” he continues. “It was made with love. Two locking mechanisms. It’s a masterpiece, really.”
My cock jostles again as he demonstrates what I already know, pointing out how I need the numeric code to be set forthe key to engage a second locking mechanism on the bottom. Now that I think about it, he probably fucking knew that even before he got out his damn tweezers. I suddenly can’t take Rory’s comfortable touch, his smooth voice, or being talked about like sexual property any longer.
Nudging his hand away, I rise. “You know what? I’ve got this,” I inform him, stepping to the side out from between him and the end of the bed so I can grab my shorts. “Thanks for the help, but I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
“Not really, but suit yourself.” His overly pleased expression lets me know what a fool I just made of myself before I stomp out of the cabin, no freer than when I entered. I don’t even get the luxury of blowing off steam by taking a long walk down the corridor because, wouldn’t you know my luck—mine is right fucking next to his.
CHAPTER 8
I contemplated having some alone time with my electric razor prior to dinner to clear my head but decided not to chance ending up a crying mess again. That’s not how I plan on meeting McDonnell and facing the other sales reps tonight. So, here I am, heading down the corridor toward the dining lounge, just as fired up as when I arrived, if not more so.
Fucking Rory and his stupid, low-key flirting. I will not give him the satisfaction of accidentally overhearing me try to get myself off. An entire ship and he has to be my freaking neighbor. Whatever. Only three nights. At least I didn’t have to room with someone like he mentioned. I couldn’t imagine getting caught undressing in front of Niel or any of the other salesmen that I know.
Exhaling, I make my way toward the sounds of music and the familiar laughter of people I know, co-workers I’ve seen on web meetings and at conventions countless times. I have what it takes to oversee the company’s marketing team, don’t I?
I mean, I know I got this invite, but I can do it. I can. I’m not just fluffing my feathers. I kind of wish my boss hadn’t let me in on the secret though. If I didn’t know about the opening, then I wouldn’t have any cause to be disappointed if I didn’t get it.
Right. Maybe it’s the hype that’s been getting to me and not my nuts after all.
That line of thinking puts me at ease so much that I find myself smiling when Carmen and Niel wave me over to where they’re sitting at the bar. I order a drink and take in the long dining table in the middle of the room. It’s complete with fancy table settings, candles, and folded linen napkins. The hors d’oeuvres that Carmen and Niel are fawning over at the bar show that no expense has been spared for us on this trip.
“Can you believe all this?” Carmen remarks, flipping her long braids over the shoulder strap of her cocktail dress. “I take back anything bad I’ve ever said about this company.”
“I’m telling you,” Niel pipes in, spearing a bacon-wrapped water chestnut, “look around. There are only twelve of us sales reps from all the regions. That means they’re fattening us up for the kill. I bet they’re going to downsize and double our workload, and this is the last hurrah before our nose is to the grindstone, and our territories triple in size.”
Swatting his arm with the back of her hand, Carmen gives him a harsh whisper, “Stop it. Maybe we just got called here for incentive rewards. Either way, I’m going to enjoy myself, damn it.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Niel lets out with a sigh, shaking his head.
“Nuh uh. You’re not going to ruin this for me.” She holds up a finger, turning her back to him. “What do you think, Charlie? Don’t tell me you share Mr. Doom and Gloom’s theory.”
I don’t know if it would be kind to let her in on my knowledge, but I’m too distracted by the sight across the room at the moment to do so. A salesman from the East Coast steps away from a leather sectional that wraps around the corner of the room, revealing Rory. I didn’t know the man could clean up so well.
At the few conventions I’ve seen him at, he was either in a sweater or a casual blazer. Tonight, he’s opted for a black suitjacket and a crisp white dress shirt, un-fucking-buttoned, of course, and no tie. Why does he still look better than I do? Even his unruly hair looks like he gave it some attention and gelled it back, making him more presentable for a formal setting. Who the fuck is he trying to impress?
His head turns away from whomever he’s listening to, and his gaze meets mine, but his smile doesn’t falter. All I can see on his face is my dirty little secret, his slick fingers on my balls, the playful glint in his eyes from earlier, and that fancy-ass suit he clearly wore to steal my fucking promotion.
Fucking hell. Why did I ever trust him? He’ll dime me out in a heartbeat. I just know it.
