Professional Distance (Thorne and Dash 1)

“So close! So…” Dash sucked at the wound on his neck. “Fuck!”

That was all it took. The intensity of his release shocked him, and he shouted loud enough to bring the building down. Dash was right behind him.

The two of them collapsed against the couch, sweaty and spent.

CHAPTER SIX

“God, you’re hot,” Dash said, breath catching on each word.

Thorne tried to speak but decided it was too much effort.

Dash rose off Thorne’s back. “I need to get rid of the condom. Brace yourself.”

Thorne winced when Dash pulled out.

“You okay? I got kinda rough.”

That was an understatement. “I fucking loved it.”

Dash walked away for a few seconds. Thorne hadn’t moved when he came back.

Dash skimmed the tips of his fingers over the now throbbing bite on Thorne’s shoulder. “That was hot and unexpected.”

“So I like to be bitten. It’s not all that unusual.”

“No, but still unexpected for you.”

Thorne forced himself to turn over so he could prop himself against the arm of the couch and look at Dash. “I wear suits. No one’s going to see it.”

“But you’ll feel it. Just like the plug. Anticipation.”

“For next week?” Once again, Thorne felt overexposed. He wasn’t comfortable with how much he wanted Dash, and he sure as hell didn’t want Dash seeing through him.

Dash spread the blanket back out before settling on the couch next to Thorne. “You know, you might consider getting a slip cover for this couch if you enjoy fucking on it so much.”

“I’ve never…” Heat filled Thorne’s face. He hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d never even been tempted to fuck on the couch with anyone else. He’d always been content to walk the thirty or so feet to the bedroom. “You’re right. I should probably order one.”

Dash grinned. “You’ve never fucked on this couch before, have you?”

Why did he always see what Thorne wanted to hide? “No, damn it. You… You make me crazy.”

“I aim to please.”

“Well, you do. Very much.” No point in denying it.

Dash drew Thorne’s legs up and over his lap. “I like this side of you. Biting. Fucking on the couch. Eating cupcakes. Being fed cupcakes. Wearing plugs. I want to see more of it.”

Thorne didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking. Dash was damn good at pushing Thorne’s buttons, and Thorne enjoyed Dash taking charge way more than he wanted to. But that’s why I hire an escort. I want a professional, and Dash knows what he’s doing, that’s all.

“You’re frowning. What are you thinking about?”

Thorne gave him a wry smile. “My name is Thornwell Shipton, and I’m a control freak.”

Dash patted Thorne’s thigh. “Very good. Confession is the beginning of healing.”

Thorne sighed. “I hate how much I love it when you dominate me.”

Dash ran the tips of his fingers over Thorne’s abdomen in a soothing caress. “I know you do.”

“I don’t want you to stop. I…”

“Want more?”

“Yes.” Thorne pulled Dash down for a kiss. Dash moved so he could straddle Thorne and deepen the kiss. This time they were gentle, teasing, playful, without the rush of passion that had come before. When Dash pulled back, he laid his head on Thorne’s chest, and Thorne wrapped his arms around Dash, holding him there and simply breathing, refusing to let himself think about how out of character this was for him. Dash shifted position to get more comfortable and for a few moments neither of them spoke.

Then Thorne’s phone went off, interrupting them. He cut off the ringer. The junior consultant who’d called him despite being told Friday nights were off limits could wait. But he hadn’t been able to keep himself from seeing the time. It was already eleven. How the hell had three whole hours passed?

Dash started to pull way, but Thorne stopped him. “Stay.”

He could feel Dash smile against his chest. “For someone who doesn’t cuddle, you’re doing a damn fine job.”

“This isn’t—”

Dash raised a brow and looked up, his expression clearly telling Thorne to stop bullshitting.

“Fine, but you told me to stop rushing everything.”

“That’s right. Orgasms should be savored just like cupcakes. In fact, you just might be as tasty as a cupcake.”

Thorne scoffed. “I’m no cupcake.”

Dash rose off him enough to study him critically as if seriously considering the matter. “If you were, you’d be a dark, rich one, spicy, with a surprise in the center. Maybe Mexican chocolate with a warm cinnamon ganache filling that oozes out when you bite into it, surprising you with its sweetness.”

Fucking hell if that didn’t turn Thorne on. How did Dash manage it? “If I hadn’t just come twice, I’d be hard again after that.”

“Ooh. Let me know when you’re ready for another round, and I’ll describe a full seven-course meal.”

Thorne closed his eyes and imagined Dash’s smooth voice telling him all about exotic delights. “I might jump you before you finished.”

Dash smiled. “Speaking of going another round, I did win our little wager.”