Page 45 of Caged By the Stranger
Why does he look surprised? There’s something else there, too, though. I think it’s empathy. I don’t want empathy. I want…
God, I can’t look at him any longer. Lowering my gaze, I search for a way to sum up my new predicament. “You…you fucking broke me.”
I see his feet inch forward. A thumb grazes my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine. “What do you need, Charlie?” he asks in an octave that I swear my channel is now programmed to respond to.
“I need…”
Shit. Am I actually asking? Am I honestly here in Rory’s house, about to beg him for things I never sought to have?
Yes. I am. I know without a doubt that I am, and I can’t for the life of me help it.
“I need to feel…how I felt…again. I need to know if…if I can feel like that again.”
His hand falls from my face. He stuffs it in the pocket of his jeans. Have I surpassed the amount of time he’s willing to spend on his flings? I’m probably the most boring and difficult partner he’s ever had. He can just go to his club and handpick what kind of man he wants, like he’s browsing a restaurant menu. Why the fuck would he want to waste time on me trying to come to terms with what my first cock cage did to me?
“I was just about to have dinner.”
I want to shrink on the spot. It’s nearly eight o’clock. That seems late for dinner to me, but it’s not what makes me the most uncomfortable. The message is clear—his stomach is more important than the curiosity he’s awoken in me. Turning, he starts toward his kitchen. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach, watching him go. I’ve never felt so foolish and completely dismissed.
Just as he passes under the archway, however, he stops and calls over his shoulder. “You’ll find what you’re looking for in the living room cabinet. If you want to get yourself ready, I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
I stare after him for a moment, confused. Turning, I hedge my way deeper into his house, curious about his instructions. Around the corner, I find a large bookcase with paneled glass doors, which I’m guessing is the cabinet he referred to, since there isn’t anything else in here that fits the bill. To my right is a long, mirrored dining table, and near the opposite side of the room are a sofa and a coffee table. Scanning the cabinet contents, I see books and trinkets—bookends and small figurines that look to be from foreign countries. If he thinks I’m supposed to understand his riddle this time, he’s going to be disappointed. I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but then…I see it.
On the top right shelf, there’s a wooden box a little longer and thicker than a brick. On the front of it is a silver placard with one word engraved on it—Charlie.
It’s not. It can’t be. Why would he…
Fingers trembling, I open the cabinet and slide the box off the shelf, setting it down on the ledge near my waist. Every ounce of frustration I’ve carried over the last few weeks evaporates as soon as I tilt the lid open. The familiar silver cage sits nestled in a custom-fitted bed of blue velour. Hanging from a small hook on the inside of the lid is the little key, its chain dangling from it.
He keeps it…in his living room? What if he has company and they see my name on the box?
I hear a beep sound from the kitchen and flinch. He said to get myself ready and that he’d join me in a few minutes.
Turning, I blink at the array of windows overlooking the back of his property. It’s dim in here with just the soft glow from a few wall sconces. There are no neighbors behind his house, butthe wide-open space is daunting. I keep my bedroom window curtains drawn at all times.
Glancing back at the box, I chew at the inside of my lip, hating the lightness to my cock and balls. That familiar feeling of weight, of…belonging, is within my reach. And there seems to be a willing man just a room away. I don’t want to go back to struggling to get off to lackluster releases or that feeling of want without an erection. I want my life back, which includes my sex life, no matter how eccentric it was before Rory came along. I need to know.
Huffing, I kick my shoes off and shove my jeans and boxer briefs to the floor. This is so surreal—standing in the middle of a guy’s living room that I’ve never been in, putting a cage on my own cock. Pinching my eyes closed, I slide my sac through the cable and the cage over my cock. I force the cable tighter, nudging it deeper into the empty spine of the cage until it’s as tight as I remember it being before. Reaching underneath it, I slide some of the numbers until I hear them click, locking myself in.
Blowing out a breath, I stare down at the results of my efforts. The sight and sensation instantly arouse me. Yet, it’s more than arousal. I feel…better. Safe. Cared for. Is it the reunion with my cage or Rory’s promise to join me soon?
Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness washes over me. It’s brighter in here than it was in his cabin the last night of the cruise. I know there’s an entire wall of windows and some late-night hiker could be out there, but I feel like a jackass in my sweatshirt and socks in his fancy living room. I don’t want to look any more insecure than I already am. Whipping off my shirt, I toss it down onto my discarded pants and then tug off my socks. I tell myself it’s because I’ve learned to be confident, not because of Rory’s comment about my tank top having sand on itwhen I was in his cabin that night. I’m not here to please him. I’m here to learn how I like to be pleased.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, startling me.
Spinning around, instinct has my hands moving to cover myself, but I stop them at the last second. Flexing my fingers at my sides, I watch him make his way over to the coffee table with a serving tray. There’s a rectangular ceramic dish on it, covered with a lid.
Shaking my head, I act like I’m appreciating the art on his walls. Dinner? Is he seriously going to eat dinner right now while I’m standing here bare-ass naked?
“I’m starving,” he murmurs, setting the tray down on the end table next to the sofa.
Fuck. What do I do? Put my clothes back on while he eats? He insinuated I should get ready—wasn’t getting caged and naked ready?
Walking over to the coffee table, he bends down and pats the surface, flashing me a smile. “Will you join me?”
Am I supposed to sit on his table with my bare ass while he eats? Inching forward, I try not to look as bewildered as I feel. When I’m within arm’s reach, his eyes travel the length of my body, and he lets out a satisfied sound.
His hand goes to my biceps, and I turn when he urges me to, facing the coffee table. I feel like a marionette again as his hands make gentle movements, guiding me. In moments, I’m on my hands and knees on the little table, staring at his dormant big screen on the opposite wall. And then…he walks away. What the fuck is going on?
