Perfect Alignment (Thorne and Dash 3)

“I’m going to fill your ass so full. I’ll give you everything I’ve got.” Thorne shifted his hips, trying to get the perfect angle.

Riley gasped. “Thorne. Oh my fucking God, Thorne!”

He kept working Riley at that angle.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Yes!”

Riley’s ass spasmed around Thorne’s cock, gripping him tight. That was all Thorne needed.

“Riley! Riley!” Thorne came shooting into him, loving that it made everything slicker and hotter.

“This. It’s so…” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. His mind was so full of need, love, pleasure.

He slumped over Riley’s back and lay heavily on him. “Wow.”

“Can’t breathe,” Riley complained.

Thorne tried to find the energy to move. “Sorry, I…”

Riley reached back and grabbed his ass, trying to hold him in place. “No. Don’t care. Stay.”

“Baby, I’ll always stay, as long as you want me.”

“Always want you.”

PART TWO

Three Months Later

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Riley grinned as he opened the door to the bakery, the door which now read: A Dash of Perfection. Fine pastries, coffee, and other delights. He couldn’t believe how well everything was coming together. The tables and chairs for the seating area hadn’t arrived yet, but the cases for baked goods, both refrigerated and not, were in place next to the counter. The cash register was there, and somehow he was going to figure out how to use it.

The prep counter looked great, the checkered floor was perfect—Marc had been right about it. And the kitchen, it looked like heaven. There were plenty of finishing touches left, and he’d been warned they would take longer than he thought. But they should still easily make their January 25 opening, which gave them a few weeks to take orders for Valentine’s Day and to have their feet well under them before wedding season and spring parties filled up their catering calendar.

They wouldn’t be moving along at this pace if it hadn’t been for Thorne. Every step of the way he used his money and power to assure they were getting the best, most attentive service. Riley still felt a twinge of guilt over that, but he could dismiss it much more quickly these days. The world was what it was. Thorne loved him, and he had the resources, so Riley used them. He and Susan could send their good fortune back into the world by donating their services to charities and giving any baked goods left at the end of the day to those in need.

He checked his phone and saw a text from Susan saying she was on her way. In twenty minutes the first of their staff interviews would begin. When he walked into the kitchen, he couldn’t help caressing the edge of the giant Hobart mixer. For years he’d wondered if he really could get his own place and cook on this scale. His dream career was about to become reality, and in two weeks he’d be marrying the man he loved more than he ever imagined possible. In Central Park. It seemed too much like a fairy tale.

Ever since the weekend Marc and Kathryn stranded them at the lake, things with Thorne had been nearly perfect. Of course he and Thorne had argued over minor things like the necessity of first-class flights and whether cheesecake was an acceptable dinner, but they were easy with each other again, and they were fucking as much as they had on those first weekends they’d spent together when he was still Dash, pretending to himself that he was simply playing a role.

Peter Gabriel serenaded him from his phone. Thorne was calling.

“Were your ears burning?”

“What?” Thorne asked.

“I was thinking of you.”

“What were you thinking?”

“It’s probably best I don’t tell you since you’re at work where you can’t do anything about it.”

Thorne scoffed. “Since when has that stopped you?”

“Fine, then. I was thinking about how very much I want to put you on your knees with your hands tied behind your back and fuck your mouth knowing you love it so much you’ll probably come just from the pleasure of serving me.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Mmmm. So did you call for a reason?”

Thorne cleared his throat. “What?”

“You called me, and I don’t think it’s because you wanted me to talk dirty.”

Thorne lowered his voice so much Riley could barely hear him. “I always want you to talk dirty.”

“Where are you?”

“Standing outside a conference room.”

Riley rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Thorne chuckled. “I called to warn you that a surprise is on its way. You are to accept it without argument. Consider it an early Christmas present or a wedding present, whatever you like.”

“Thorne, you’re taking me on this trip, you—”

“I said don’t argue.”

“Fine.” It would be pointless anyway. Thorne would get his way.

“I haven’t gotten your present yet. But it should arrive soon.”

“Riley, I told you—”

“No. If I accept yours gracefully, you have to do the same.”

Thorne made a low growly sound, and Riley smiled. “I want to hear that sound tonight, but not because you’re put out with me.”