Dash had actually made him cupcakes. Why the hell would he do that? “Later. We’ll eat them later. Right now, I want to be fucked.”

“Won’t work while this is in.” He thumped the end of the plug, and Thorne jerked. “Cupcakes first. We’re building anticipation, remember?”

“Fuck off.”

Dash laughed.

“You seriously think I’m going to sit here and eat cupcakes with this thing up my ass?”

“Yes, I do.” Still that annoyingly sweet tone.

“You—”

Dash toyed with the plug while using his free hand to stroke Thorne’s cock. Whatever Thorne was going to say was lost on a wave of pleasure.

“By the time we’re done eating, you’ll be so ready for my cock, I’ll bend you right over the couch and drive inside you. But first: We’re. Going. To. Eat.” He punctuated each word with a pull on Thorne’s cock. When he let go, Thorne clamped his lips together to keep from whimpering.

Thorne knew he could stop this anytime. He’d hired Dash to pleasure him, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the way Dash took control. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of saying so, though. He was going to sit there and eat cupcakes like there wasn’t anything unusual going on; at least, he hoped he was.

“I brought coffee too,” Dash said, pulling out a thermos.

Thorne stood and pulled his robe together. “I’ll get plates.”

Dash laid a hand on his thigh. “No, you stay right here. I’ll get everything we need.”

Thorne started to insist that he could handle it, then realized how it would feel to walk around with the plug in his ass. He eased himself down onto the couch. The plug shifted as he sat. He sucked in his breath, and Dash grinned knowingly.

“You don’t want to serve our food naked this time?” Thorne asked, hoping that taunting Dash would get the focus off him.

“Hmmm,” Dash said. “Come to think of it, I would like to get out of these restrictive layers.”

Why had Thorne asked?

He couldn’t help but watch as Dash revealed his beautiful body. With a total lack of self-consciousness, he strutted to the kitchen. How did he move so fluidly?

Dash poured coffee and placed bite-sized cupcakes on plates. “There,” he said, settling onto the couch near Thorne. “I think we’re ready.”

Thorne was ready—ready to be fucked. The faster they ate, the faster they could move on to the mind-numbing orgasm he felt building in his balls. He picked up a cupcake and bit into it. It was so fucking rich and chocolatey that he actually forgot his predicament for a few moments. “You really made these?”

Dash grinned. “Yes, I did. My alter ego is an aspiring pastry chef.”

“These are amazing.”

“Thank you. I was rather pleased with how they turned out.”

“Are they your specialty?”