Dash grinned. “You’ve never fucked on this couch before, have you?”

Why did he always see what Thorne wanted to hide? “No, damn it. You… You make me crazy.”

“I aim to please.”

“Well, you do. Very much.” No point in denying it.

Dash drew Thorne’s legs up and over his lap. “I like this side of you. Biting. Fucking on the couch. Eating cupcakes. Being fed cupcakes. Wearing plugs. I want to see more of it.”

Thorne didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking. Dash was damn good at pushing Thorne’s buttons, and Thorne enjoyed Dash taking charge way more than he wanted to. But that’s why I hire an escort. I want a professional, and Dash knows what he’s doing, that’s all.

“You’re frowning. What are you thinking about?”

Thorne gave him a wry smile. “My name is Thornwell Shipton, and I’m a control freak.”

Dash patted Thorne’s thigh. “Very good. Confession is the beginning of healing.”

Thorne sighed. “I hate how much I love it when you dominate me.”

Dash ran the tips of his fingers over Thorne’s abdomen in a soothing caress. “I know you do.”

“I don’t want you to stop. I…”

“Want more?”

“Yes.” Thorne pulled Dash down for a kiss. Dash moved so he could straddle Thorne and deepen the kiss. This time they were gentle, teasing, playful, without the rush of passion that had come before. When Dash pulled back, he laid his head on Thorne’s chest, and Thorne wrapped his arms around Dash, holding him there and simply breathing, refusing to let himself think about how out of character this was for him. Dash shifted position to get more comfortable and for a few moments neither of them spoke.

Then Thorne’s phone went off, interrupting them. He cut off the ringer. The junior consultant who’d called him despite being told Friday nights were off limits could wait. But he hadn’t been able to keep himself from seeing the time. It was already eleven. How the hell had three whole hours passed?

Dash started to pull way, but Thorne stopped him. “Stay.”

He could feel Dash smile against his chest. “For someone who doesn’t cuddle, you’re doing a damn fine job.”

“This isn’t—”

Dash raised a brow and looked up, his expression clearly telling Thorne to stop bullshitting.

“Fine, but you told me to stop rushing everything.”

“That’s right. Orgasms should be savored just like cupcakes. In fact, you just might be as tasty as a cupcake.”

Thorne scoffed. “I’m no cupcake.”

Dash rose off him enough to study him critically as if seriously considering the matter. “If you were, you’d be a dark, rich one, spicy, with a surprise in the center. Maybe Mexican chocolate with a warm cinnamon ganache filling that oozes out when you bite into it, surprising you with its sweetness.”