Well-Tailored (Thorne and Dash 4)

“Have you got a moment?” he called.

“Oh, so you decided to come round after all?”

Marc realized his mouth had dropped open in wonder at Darius dressed down in a T-shirt and jeans. His arms were utter perfection.

Close your mouth, and say something. “Um…yeah. Yes. I did. I brought my application and—”

“Why don’t you step inside?” Darius opened the door and gestured for Marc to follow.

Marc couldn’t help but take another appreciative glance as he followed him in. His shirt stretched tight across his chest. Was he as strong as he looked?

Darius lifted his messenger bag from his shoulder and set it on one of the upholstered chairs, where clients usually waited. Marc forced himself not to lick his lips as he watched Darius’s bicep flex.

Darius grinned when he looked up. Fuck. He knew Marc had been staring. “You could have brought the application in the morning or scanned it and sent it over. What are you really here for?”

Was that last bit laced with innuendo, or was Marc imagining it?

“I…” What had he come for?

Darius gave him a knowing look that confirmed Marc’s suspicions. He was hoping Marc had come for more than talking.

Had he?

Not consciously.

“I wanted to ask about hours and expectations and…”

His heart pounded as Darius took a step closer. Fuck, he was babbling.

“We’ll get to that later.” Darius grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him forward until their bodies were almost touching, and brought his lips mere inches from Marc’s.

“Say no right now if you really came here to talk. Your answer will in no way affect your job status.”

Marc’s dick would stage a full-scale rebellion if he dared back away now. “Kiss me.”

Darius did, and there was nothing gentle about it. He crushed Marc’s lips and forced his mouth open, tongue-fucking him until Marc writhed against him, desperate for friction.

He slid his hands under Darius’s T-shirt, needing to feel his warm skin, but Darius pulled away.

“Don’t look so sad. I’m just locking the door.”

“Oh.” Marc didn’t like how off balance he was. Even when he was playing a submissive role, he was in control, but he could tell Darius had the ability to make him forget everything but his need. That both excited and scared the fuck out of him.

“There’s a couch in the back. I’ve a mind to bend you over it. Are you game?”

Marc’s mouth dropped open. He didn’t think a man could shock him. He was used to men telling him what they wanted, but that was when he was being paid or when he was at a club, where everyone’s motives were clear. Here, in an office where men like Thorne bought suits so far out of his price range it made his head spin, he hadn’t expected it.

“I…” He licked his lips.

“Don’t tell me I’ve gone and made you speechless, love?”

“No, that sounds…nice.”

“Nice? If you think anything I intend to do to you is nice, you should leave now.”

“No, I meant…” Since when did he get fucking tongue-tied?

Run.

Stay.

Marc circled the counter, determined to find this hidden couch, drop his pants, and let Darius fuck him right there. That was exactly what he wanted, and he was shit at denying himself, even when it might be the best thing for his future. His dick had always been more persuasive than his sense of self-preservation.

“Is that a yes?” Darius asked.

“That’s a fuck yes,” Marc called over his shoulder, sounding way more confident that he felt.

When Marc entered the workroom, he saw something that looked vaguely like a couch, but it was too covered in fabric and boxes to be certain. There were sewing supplies everywhere and at least five coffee cups sitting on various tables. The front of the shop was spare and clean, but the workroom was as wild as the look in Darius’s eyes when he grabbed Marc, turned him around, and tugged on the edge of his shirt.

“Off,” he demanded.

Marc pulled the garment off and tossed it on the floor. Hopefully, he’d be able to find it later. Before he could demand the same from Darius, Darius cupped his face and kissed him, softer this time. Possibly because he knew Marc was his for the taking, and dear God, was he. Marc had the feeling Darius would fuck just like he worked—wild, hard, and with excessive passion.

Marc explored under Darius’s shirt, reveling in smooth, warm skin. Then he grabbed Darius’s hips and pulled them together, thrusting against Darius’s abdomen, wanting him to feel how much Marc needed to be fucked. Once he got things going with a man, he never believed in playing coy.

Darius pushed his hands into the waistband of Marc’s jeans and massaged the top of his ass. “Are you always this eager?” he asked as he ran his tongue along Marc’s neck.

Marc groaned. “Maybe.”

“Bastard.” He slapped Marc’s ass and stepped back so he could pull his shirt off.