Page 37 of Caged By the Stranger
Does he have regulars there that he sees? Does he participate in that group flogging night that he mentioned?
I realize he’s paused halfway to the bed, but I don’t dare look. Good. Maybe I shocked him for once instead of the other way around.
The sound of his towel swishing moves closer. His slender fingers appear at my right, placing the chain with the key on it down on the nightstand. And then…he stands. Silently. Like he’s waiting.
I stare at that little silver key, wondering what it means. Of course, it means freedom is mere inches away from me. All I’d have to do is reach out and grab it. I could probably do so quicker than him, but I sense it’s another test.
Or perhaps…it’s not a test at all. Not the kind I imagined. I think he’s…waiting. Waiting to see if I take my chance.
Damn it. Damn it to hell.
My face burns, and I turn my head away to hide the truth on it. I’m not here for a key. Not really. I knew that even before I decided to storm over here. And now…heknows it too.
He sucks in a ragged breath that spreads gooseflesh all over my body like wildfire. It’s a sound of approval that goes right to my nuts. I’m in awe of just how much I’ve yearned for that approval.
“Shirt off,” he whispers. “You’re covered in sand.”
I blink through a wave of embarrassment for being scolded. A splash of misery for disappointing him in even the most trivial way. Sitting up, I reach for the hem of my tank top and start drawing it over my head. Fingers brush the back of my neck, making me shiver, and he helps me tug it over my head.
I watch it fall to the floor at his bare feet. When the bottom of his towel sways, I lean forward and plant my hands back on the mattress in an effort to look away. The soft sound of it droppingto the floor heightens my building arousal and the fear that I seem to get off on. Is he naked? Fully naked?
He just got out of the shower. Why would he put his Speedo back on? Of course, he’s probably naked.
“Grab the lube for me, handsome, will you?” he croons and walks off toward the door.
I cringe at the order, but reach for it even as I do. Pulling the drawer open, I’m well aware of the key sitting on the surface of the nightstand just above my hand. It’s like it’s taunting me, telling me I don’t have to do this…whateverthisis. It’s no longer a symbol of freedom, but rather an icon denoting two paths—one where I grab it and walk out of here. Another, where I ignore it and free-fall into the spell Rory casts over me, beckoning me to be ‘brave’ and try new things.
The lights dim, calming my trepidation and spiking my anticipation. It’s beginning—everything I don’t know that I’m asking for.
The padding sound of his footsteps on the carpeting returns. A hand slides down my forearm and covers the bottle in mine. Lips dust feather light against my shoulder as he pulls it from my grip.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
A hand trails down my spine and circles over the small of my back. I’m suddenly buzzed again, as though his touch is the equivalent of drinking four beers.
“You keep surprising me, Charlie. I’m so proud of you.”
Proud of me? For what? Through my wondering, I feel myself preening over that odd bit of praise. My dick hums in approval.
The sound of the lube cap flicking open interrupts my latest self-discovery. I try to breathe evenly so he won’t know just how much I’m reacting to this peculiar dance. His palm slides across the top of my ass and grips my hip. He uses me to leverage himself onto the bed, treating my body as a handle. It’ssomething I imagine familiar lovers do or disrespectful clients of sex workers. I’m oddly aroused by either similarity, both being used by and being familiar to him.
His other palm runs over my taint and then my balls until he reaches the cable of the cage. I wince at the soreness there from all my movements today during the volleyball match when his lubed fingers connect.
“Aw, baby…didn’t you lube this up before the match?”
Baby…I trip over that word for a moment, and its effect on me. I’ve never cared for it and usually roll my eyes when I hear it in movies. Perhaps it’s that I finally have his concern and undivided attention that’s the real allure.
“No,” I mumble.
“Promise me, if you plan to keep wearing it, that you’ll take better care of yourself.”
That makes it sound like I have the option. I don’t understand. Is it his way of reminding me that the key is readily available within my reach? Does he not want me to wear it any longer? I mean, not that I planned to, but suddenly, it seems strange to imagine going back to life without it on. I’ve grown so…used to it.
He doesn’t press me for an answer, continuing to massage the tender skin around my sac. It’s pleasant just like the other times, but there’s an eagerness building inside of me. His favorite word, ‘greedy,’ comes to mind, considering I just came last night. It feels like we’re living on borrowed time, though, with the cruise ending tomorrow. After that, all this chaos stops. I have to go back to my normal life without cock cages and strange compliments.
His hand moves to the cage. A greasy fingertip surprises me, swiping down the slit in my cock. The bigger surprise is the feel of teeth on my right ass cheek. It was just a nibble, nothing painful, but unexpected. My cock twitches inside the cage. Hemust have noticed because he makes that satisfied hum and moves to my other cheek, treating it to the same biting action. Will I have teeth marks when he’s done? Picturing it, I warm from head to toe.
His whiskers brush across my ass, bringing the flesh to life. Lips touch down on my hole and stay, holding a kiss there.
