Thorne opened the door.
“Mr. Shipton?” the boy asked.
Thorne nodded and stepped back so Dash could enter.
“I’m Dash; Sheila told me you were a client of Marc’s.” Dash lifted the strap of the messenger bag he carried over his head and sat the bag against the wall in the entryway.
“That’s right,” Thorne answered. “He suited my needs perfectly.”
“And you think I won’t?”
Fuck. Was he that transparent or was this kid that good? “What I think is that the rapport I had with Marc was hard to find.”
“He’s a switch and a damn good one.” Dash’s look said he knew that from personal experience.
“Correct.”
“So am I.” Dash smiled, and Thorne reacted as if he’d wrapped his hand around Thorne’s dick.
Thorne’s gaze moved down Dash’s body. He was shorter than Marc, who’d matched Thorne’s six feet, maybe five feet nine or five feet ten. His body was lean but not without muscle. If Thorne had to guess, he’d say Dash was a runner. His tight black pants clung to his body, giving the impression he had a rather nice package.
“Shall I make you a drink while we discuss exactly what you’d like tonight?” Dash asked, wandering toward the kitchen.
It took a few seconds for the words to register in Thorne’s brain. Dash was…hot, fucking hot. But there was something else about him, something Thorne couldn’t define, that had Thorne salivating to get him naked and in bed. If Thorne believed in anything as hokey as “auras,” he would’ve said Dash had a powerful one. Thorne pushed the thought away, disgusted. Too much work and too little sex must have fried his brain. He’d been so busy that week he hadn’t even found time to jerk off.
“I don’t need a drink, and I don’t want to talk.”
Dash grinned and propped himself against the bar in the kitchen area, cocking his hip out. The pose was obviously calculated to make Thorne appreciate his slim waist. “That eager, huh?”
“I realize some people hire escorts for companionship. They want to know someone is listening to them. I’m sick of talking: to clients, to employees, to fucking airport desk agents. I don’t need you to pretend to be my friend. I need to be fucked.”
“Sure of that, are you?” Dash asked, walking around the bar and entering the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“In my professional opinion, a bit of relaxing on the couch, talking, easing our way toward fucking would do you some good.”
What the fuck? Maybe Dash wasn’t right for Thorne after all. Thorne gave the orders here, even if he was the one with a cock up his ass. It was looking less likely that he was going to be in that position. Marc had understood that he didn’t want chitchat; that Thorne liked to get down to business right away, blow off some tension and then get back to work.
Dash began to explore Thorne’s kitchen. Thorne would have stopped anyone else, should have stopped him. What the hell gave him the right to start messing around in Thorne’s apartment? And yet, Thorne simply watched the young man. Dash wasn’t like anyone Thorne regularly interacted with. He appeared friendly and easygoing, but he obviously didn’t take no for an answer. Maybe he really was a very good switch.
Dash opened Thorne’s basically empty fridge and then a door to a closet that was supposed to be a pantry. Thorne used it to store weights and other fitness equipment. He worked out religiously, but he did it at home rather than wasting the time to go to a gym.
“You don’t have any food, like none, not even coffee?” Dash looked truly horrified.
“There are some condiments and beer in the fridge.” Why did Thorne sound apologetic? He didn’t fucking apologize to anyone. No, you don’t talk to them long enough to need to.
“That’s not food.”
“I order out. I don’t have time for cooking.”
“I’d cook for you if you actually had anything here.”
He suddenly imagined Dash standing at the stove, wearing nothing but an apron. A nearly crippling shudder of lust shot through Thorne. Damn, he really was a mess.
“I told you I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to eat either. With what I’m paying you, I know you’re not starving, so there’s no need to go scouring my apartment for food.”
Dash looked hurt for a fraction of a second. Thorne hadn’t meant to belittle him. He had no problem with how Dash earned his money, and he hated it when men patronized prostitutes and then degraded them for providing the very service those men obviously needed.
Dash Studied him for several seconds. “So you truly want me to just fuck you and then leave.”
Did he? He always had with the men he’d hired in the past. “Yes.”
“Then your wish is my command.”
CHAPTER TWO
Dash began unbuttoning his shirt. Thorne couldn’t look away as Dash revealed tanned skin little by little. His chest was waxed smooth, the muscles well defined. Thorne couldn’t wait to get a full view. Finally, Dash pulled the two halves of his shirt apart, letting it hang, giving tantalizing glimpses of his pecs and pebbled nipples. One at a time, he undid the buttons at his cuffs. He watched Thorne with heat in his eyes as he brought his arms behind him and let the shirt slip off and to the floor.