Professional Distance (Thorne and Dash 1)

“You can go if you need to,” Susan said. “All that’s left is icing these and delivering them.”

“Are you sure?”

“You were out late last night, and you will be again tonight. Go take a nap.”

“Actually, Thorne keeps to a strict schedule. He was writing a report for work when I left last week. I kinda feel sorry for him.”

“The man lives in a penthouse apartment and has enough money to hire you? He’s probably doing okay.”

Riley smiled. “True enough.” And yet, he wasn’t so sure. “I’m happy to stay and help with the icing. I doubt I could sleep anyway, and I enjoy practicing when I get a chance.”

“Okay, we’ll have some extra cupcakes. You’re welcome to take them.”

Riley imagined what Thorne would say if he showed up with cupcakes. “I think I will. They really are awesome with the pepper.”

“I knew you’d like that trick.”

Maybe one day he’d teach Thorne how to make a cake.

I don’t hire men for companionship. Thorne’s words echoed in his mind.

Maybe Riley would change that. Maybe he would also get Thorne to admit how much he enjoyed submitting.

CHAPTER FIVE

Thorne’s workweek was just as bad as he’d expected it to be. At least, the memories of Dash and the anticipation of what was to come once he was back in town on Friday made it bearable, more than bearable actually. He’d jacked off every single night in the hotel, thinking of Dash while he finger-fucked himself and pretended it was Dash’s cock inside him.

That afternoon, he’d had a final tedious meeting with the client who claimed to want his advice but argued with him every fucking step of the way. A delay at the airport did nothing to ease Thorne’s annoyance. His neck and shoulders ached with tension by the time he landed in Atlanta. He couldn’t wait to see Dash. After coaxing, pushing, and manipulating clients all week, he wanted to let go and concentrate on nothing but pleasure. He was so eager to be held down, forced, and used that he had to move his jacket in front of him to hide his hard-on as he stood in the taxi line.

He reached home with barely time to clean up and change before Dash arrived. When he emerged from the shower, he slipped on his plush terry robe, another one of the luxuries he afforded himself. The robe had cost more than some of his colleagues’ suits, but he had the money, and he loved the feel of the soft fabric against his skin. He figured there was no need to dress since he hoped to be naked within minutes of Dash arriving. This time he wasn’t going to let Dash distract him. He was going to get down to business right away.

The buzzer alerted him to a visitor before he had a chance to pour himself a cocktail, but that was fine—even the best bourbon was no match for Dash.

“Mr. Dash is here to see you, sir. Shall I send him up?” Michaels asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Thorne frowned at the agitated state of his stomach. Butterflies. Fucking butterflies. He’d hired this man, and he was—oh fuck, why’d he have to think of that—twenty years younger.

Dash knocked, the same two sharp taps as last week.

Once Thorne let him in, Dash eyed him appreciatively. “Dressed for the occasion?”

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Thorne asked as he pushed the door shut.

“It’s a good look for you.” Dash’s gaze traveled down Thorne’s body. “You have beautiful feet.”

“Is that a thing for you?” Thorne asked, wiggling his toes.

Dash laughed. “So you can be playful after all.”

Thorne snorted at his impertinence.

“And my thing is whatever my client wants.”

Thorne raised a brow, challenging him.

“It’s not a particular fetish of mine—though I appreciate beauty in all forms and places—but I aim to serve my clients’ needs.”

“Or to tell them what those needs are.”

“Is that what you’d like me to do today?” Dash asked. He seemed to grow a few inches taller as he let the commanding persona settle over him.

Thorne ignored him. Dash had his messenger bag with him again, but he was also carrying a white paper bag that smelled of cake—rich cake.

“What’s that?” Thorne reached for the bag.

Dash slapped his hand away. “It’s a surprise for later.”

Thorne frowned. “Why do I feel like you wanted to tack ‘if you’re a good boy’ on to that sentence?”

Dash laughed. “Maybe I did.”

“I told you I—”

“Don’t do submissive. And I told you I wasn’t so sure you didn’t.”

Thorne hated how right Dash might be. “Look—”

Dash held up a hand. “I have an idea for tonight. Would you like me to run with it and see where it takes us, or are you going to wrest control?”

Why the fuck did that sound so sexy—grappling with Dash, fighting for who would be on top. “Is both an option?”