Page 30 of Caged By the Stranger
No. Not him. The guy who treated me so well. The guy he was before I found out he was Rory, I remind myself.
“You…c-could have sent a message.”
His lips leave my cage. There’s a soft rush of air as he rises. I feel his palm on the back of my shoulder, but I don’t flinch this time. I’m too…malleable just from that reunion of his breath and my groin. So, I move before even realizing it when he urges me to turn.
“I know, but…I thought it might be a bit presumptuous of me, and part of the experience is the wait. I figured you should have the chance to see if you preferred pleasure elsewhere.”
Elsewhere? How could I have gotten pleasure elsewhere?
“You went back, after all. Silas told me you stormed out, though. What happened?”
Silas?That must be the bald prick at the door.
A hand runs down my arm and stops at the underside of my wrist, but after the touch has left a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. “Hands on the bed, please,” he whispers.
I’m about to argue when that warm palm lands on the small of my back, making me feel like warm molasses. Blinking stupidly like I’m in one of those Halloween fun houses, feeling for the walls, I touch my palms down to the bedding and tilt my head to track his movements as I try to keep my breathing under control.
“He…they laughed at me,” I confess, hoping it hurts him to hear that as much as it hurt me to be left disappointed that night.
He doesn’t deserve an orgasm from me, not after what he did. I want to shout at my body to stop responding to his little touches and grazes, but I’m determined to be the victor this time. I need those four fucking numbers, so he can’t keep meunder this strange spell he seems to cast whenever I’m around him.
I can’t believe he was going to give me the promotion. Was he serious about that, or was he just telling me what I wanted to hear? HeknowsI’ve been the best performer for five years? That means he…noticed me. Noticed my work. I shouldn’t take so much pride in that fact. It shouldn’t make me feel so warm inside to have possibly been on his radar for so long.
“It was horrible,” I mumble.
I’m not sure if I do it to make him feel bad or if the words just tumble out like he’s opened some fountain of truth in me with his hot breath and the cloak of darkness.
His palm slides across the small of my back. His hand is a little rough, but his touch is gentle. It’s oddly soothing and yet lights my flesh on fire at the same time. It doesn’t stop, though. The mattress dips behind me and his palm continues over the curve of my ass and down the outside of my thigh.
I suck in a breath when I feel the full weight of him on the bed. His leg hair brushes against my skin, and I knead the comforter in anticipation.
What is he doing back there? I told him he’s not fucking me, and for some reason, despite all his mind games, I believe he’d actually respect that.
His leg presses against the inside of mine, nudging mine outward. On instinct, I move it. His other one brushes over the back of my other calf, painting a clear picture of him settling between my legs.
Jesus. Thank God he can’t see my exposed ass. I’ve never shown that view to anyone, too mortified of feeling so…open.
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”
His other hand connects with my hip, the same light touch. The same soothing warmth. He glides it down the outside of mythigh and then runs it back up in unison with his other hand until they both stop on the top of my ass.
The touch and the apology unlock something in my breathing, allowing my air to come more freely. It’s a modicum of the comfort I’ve yearned so much for over the last week and a half. It grips my heart with a squeeze of sadness that has me nearly wanting to cry.
How bizarre is that? It has to be this fucking cage. It’s plagued my emotions for far too long.
His hands move again, trailing down the back of my thighs this time. I’m about to squirm and tell him I’ll need much more than that if I have the slightest chance of coming. One of his hands slips in between my legs, though. His palm glides over the underside of my balls, stealing my breath once again.
“Truly…I am,” he whispers, his lips dusting the flesh at the small of my back.
I feel those lubed fingers now as they delicately start to trace the circumference of the cage’s cable. But that’s not the worst of it. A soft, wet kiss touches my skin right above the cleft in my ass. I shudder so hard that there’s no way he didn’t feel it against his lips.
“I wouldn’t have laughed,” he murmurs, moving his mouth to my right cheek and placing another kiss there.
I…he never said anything about…about kissing. No one’s ever…kissed my ass. I don’t know what to think. It’s not something I ever thought I’d like, but as his fingers slink up the underside of my cage in a gentle massage of my tender flesh, the combination seems to work. I can feel blood pulsing to my shaft, making the confines even smaller now. All the while, his palm brushes my sac. It forces an awareness over me of just how heavy it feels right now. I do need to come. Need to, despite anything to do with being granted four little numbers. I know I’m supposedto be pissed off right now, but for the love of God, if he can actually make me come, I don’t think I’d be mad about it.
I grunt, suddenly frustrated. All that this stroking and the unexpected kisses to my ass are doing is making me harder. It’s not like either of us could work my cock right now.
“What is it, handsome?”
