Dash grinned. “We’ll have to see.”

“Worried about an old guy’s stamina?”

“You don’t seem the least bit old to me.”

Dash’s statement caught Thorne off guard, because it wasn’t made in the same playful tone. It sounded serious, heartfelt. Or maybe Thorne’s brain was too clouded by lust to tell. “I’d like to hear your idea.”

Dash set the paper bag down on the coffee table and unzipped his satchel. He pulled out a plug—not the giant vibrating one that had caught Thorne’s attention the week before—a basic one that was large enough to make a man really feel it but not scare him.

Thorne inclined his head toward the plug. “I like it so far.”

“Then turn around.”

Thorne almost protested. But he was the one who’d insisted they get right down to business.

“Kneel on the couch and brace yourself on the back.”

Damn, his authoritative tone was fucking hot. Thorne’s cock was suddenly very much in the game. He positioned himself like Dash had demanded, but he turned so he could see what Dash was doing—rolling a condom onto the plug, then lubing it up.

“So you’re just going to shove that up my ass?” Thorne asked.

Dash glared. “I would hope you’d give me credit for a little more finesse than that, but essentially, yes, unless you object.”

Fuck, no, he didn’t object. He wasn’t sure he’d object to anything Dash dreamed up.

Dash knelt by the couch. He pushed Thorne’s robe up and out of the way. Then he used both hands to take hold of Thorne’s ass and pull his cheeks apart. Thorne groaned. Why was it so fucking hot to be exposed like that? Dash blew against his hole, his breath hot. Thorne couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through him.

“Like that, do you?”

“Fuck, yes!”

Dash did it again. Then he brushed the tips of his thumbs over Thorne’s hole. He pushed in with one, barely breaching Thorne’s defenses. It wasn’t enough.

“Stop fucking teasing me.” Thorne grabbed Dash’s wrist and tried to encourage him to go deeper.

Dash shook off his hold. “We’re doing this my way.”

“That is not how this is supposed to work.” Thorne was the client. And yet, there he was, perched on his couch, ass on display, and loving it.

“Hands on the back of the couch,” Dash ordered.

Fucking bastard. But Thorne did what he said.

“Are you going to make me pay later?”

Thorne most certainly was. “Yes. Definitely.”

Dash laughed. “Good.”

Thorne imagined what they would do when it was his turn. He had to think of a way to make Dash writhe, but his thoughts scattered when Dash pushed a lubed finger into his ass and rapidly added another one.