Page 18 of Caught in His Sights

He spreads me wider, the stretch burning, and ecstasy crashes through me, pushing me over the edge. I come hard, clenching around him as my dick pulses, cum catching in my pants.

“Good boy.” He pulls his fingers out and holds them up for me to see.

They glisten with my slick, and Caleb brings them to his mouth, licking them clean.

He groans with appreciation, the sound vibrating through me. “Just as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

My muscles clench as another wave of pleasure travels through me.

Before I have time to catch my labored breaths, Caleb scoops my quivering body up in his arms and carries me deeper into the suite.

As he walks, he kisses me roughly, his tongue laying claim to every part of me. I taste myself on him, and the thought of Caleb waxing me and then going down on me sends a renewed surge of arousal flooding through my veins.

Black silk sheets surround me as Caleb lays me down on a king-size bed, and my slowing pulse quickens once more. My breath hitches in anticipation as he leans over me, drawing my arms above my head. I expect him to tug off my nightshirt, but instead, cold metal encircles my wrist, followed by a distinct snick.

Confused, I peer up to see one of my hands locked to the headboard.

Caleb caresses down the sensitive skin of my underarm. “Until I buy you a new collar, we’ll have to use what we have on hand.”

My throat bobs as I swallow hard, my dick already trying to thicken again.

He strokes my cheek. “Don’t get too comfortable here. We won’t be staying long.”

As he steps back, uncertainty takes hold. “Where are you going?”

“I have some work to do.” He peruses my body. “You’ll have to be patient.”

Panic flares, and I roll onto my side before struggling to my knees. “You can’t leave me here like this. What if I need to go to the bathroom?”

With a considering look, Caleb grabs a trash bin from beside the nightstand, empties its contents on the carpet, and sets it within reach of my unbound hand.

My face flushes with embarrassment at the implication. “You can’t be serious.”

Expression unyielding, he turns to walk back toward the front room. “Be good, Oliver.”

“Please.” I rattle the handcuff. “I promise not to run if you unlock me.”

“Nice try.” He casts a smirk over his shoulder. “But I learned from my cousin’s mistakes. No free-roaming for you.”

“What does that mean?” I yell after him.

My only answer is the opening and closing of the door as he leaves.

I wake up warm and relaxed, Caleb’s body wrapped around me.

Groggily, I realize I slept through his return, and we now lay on our sides, the cuff on my wrist removed at some point. Caleb spoons me from behind, one arm curled across my chest and the other shoved down my pants to cup my balls.

The position would thrill me if my bladder wasn’t screaming for relief. I need the bathroom. Now.

When I shift, the hand holding my delicate bits tightens in threat, and I freeze, afraid I’ll wet myself.

Caleb shifts, checking the clock on the nightstand, before snuggling his nose against the back of my neck and relaxing once more.

I lie still, trying not to disturb him, but discomfort outweighs my desire to obey, and I wiggle as I fight the urge to pee.

“Be still,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly. “I’ve only gotten three hours of sleep.”

“I can’t.” My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I have to use the bathroom.”

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