Page 13 of The Key Holder

“Let’s go.” His arm slid around my waist and squeezed.

I was lying to myself, of course. I knew it as soon as I saw him fucking God-knows-what upstairs. I still wanted him. As much, if not more, as I did when I was a repressed horny teenager.

With ease, he guided me into my bedroom. “There,” he said, letting me slide onto my bed. “You staying here or do you want to rest on the couch?”

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” I said.

Ford nodded. “I’ll get you the ice then.”

“Thank you.” Hopping over to the dresser, I found a pair of black running shorts and dropped what was left of my torn ones to the floor along with my jockstrap. I made it to the bed and laid down on my back, taking the weight off my ankle and attempted to pull my shorts up.

“Hey, I’ve got your—shit, I should’ve knocked.”

“It’s fine. You’ve already seen it.” The reality was he hadn’t seen that much of it, but I wasn’t going to point that out. But that was too fucking close…he could’ve seen the cage.

“It’s been a few years since…that.”

The realization that I just referred to the single-most embarrassing moment of my life hit me like a freight train. And Ford acknowledged it.

“And you still like jockstraps,” Ford added.

I decided to unacknowledge the last few seconds. “Thanks for the ice.”

“No problem. Can I get you anything else? Are your shorts salvageable?”

“My phone,” I said. “I don’t remember where I put it, and I didn’t take a close look. I will later.”

Ford left and came back almost immediately, my phone in his hand. “Nice lock screen.”

In seconds, the heat creeped up my neck and into my cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s hot.”

He handed me my phone and turned to leave, hollering over his shoulder. “Yell for me if you need anything.”

I didn’t have to look to confirm; I knew exactly what he had seen. A close-up of this porn star slash influencer’s muscular stomach, his treasure trail, and just a tease of the base of his thick cock.

“Dylan.”

Wh-what?

I felt a gentle nudge on my shoulder and slowly blinked my eyes open. The room was pretty dark; I could barely see anything outside the window. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight,” Ford answered. “I wanted to see if you were hungry.”

Pulling my shirt down to cover my exposed stomach, I answered, “I could eat.” My hand crept up to my neck, looking for the silver chain that carried the key to my cage.

It’s not there!

I did my best not to lose my mind in front of Ford. After all, how could I explain what I was looking for?

“Good. I’ve got some mac and cheese cooking. It should be ready in a few. You want me to bring it to you, or do you want me to bring you to it?” He laughed at his own comment.

I sat up, dragging my hands on the comforter, searching for the key, but it was obvious it wasn’t there. Maybe it was in the kitchen?

Or somewhere in the woods.

It had to be in the kitchen.