Thornwell Shipton is wealthy, uptight, closeted, and an incurable workaholic. A tragic love affair left him terrified of relationships, of risking his heart and getting hurt again, so he tells himself sex is better scheduled and paid for.

Riley Dashwood is young, easy-going, and comfortable in his own skin. He’s a passionate baker and an aspiring chef, working as an escort to save up for culinary school.

They’re clearly made for each other.

When Thorne hires Dash, it’s lust at first sight. After a few scorching nights together, both men start to wonder if what they have together is more than physical, but their age gap and resistance to romance make them afraid to change their professional relationship to a personal one. Dash pushes Thorne to admit he wants things he’s denied himself for years. Kinky things. Soft, caring things. Things that force him to open his heart, not just his body. To move forward, one or the other must take a risk and ask for what he really wants.

Professional Distance by Silvia Violet

Copyright © 2015 by Silvia Violet

SMASHWORDS Edition

Cover art by LC Chase

Edited by Keren Reed

All Rights Reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Published in the United States of America.

Professional Distance is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are fictionalized. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

Thornwell Shipton was not pleased. He’d worked his ass off all week, never getting more than a couple of hours of sleep, and one thing that had kept him going was knowing that on Friday night, he would take a few hours off while his favorite rent boy buried himself balls deep in Thorne’s ass. Now he had a message from the escort service telling him there was an issue with his appointment and he should contact them. He was in no mood to deal with more issues. Work had already thrown enough of those his way.

He double-checked that his office door was locked and then tapped his phone to return the call. As it rang, he stared out over the city hundreds of feet below. His office had a lovely view of Atlanta’s Olympic Park, but he rarely noticed it these days.

Sheila, the woman who ran the service, answered just when Thorne was sure her voicemail would pick up. “Hello, Mr. Shipton. I’m sorry we had to bother you.”

Sheila had a pleasant, soothing voice that probably worked wonders on many of their clients, but Thorne wasn’t in the mood to be soothed. “What’s the problem?”

“Marc isn’t going to be working for us anymore.”

“What? Why?” Thorne dropped his head against the window. No. No. No. He’d tried a number of escorts before finding Marc, none of whom satisfied Thorne’s needs for both dominance and submission, depending on his mood. Marc had been perfect. For the last several months, he’d made Friday night the highlight of Thorne’s week.

“He’s decided to pursue other interests.”

Thorne snorted. That could mean anything. “Fine. I suppose I’ll have to cancel the appointment.”

“Actually, I have someone else for you.”

“I don’t think—”

Thorne didn’t want to break in someone new. Not this week with him trying to wrap up a report for one of their biggest clients, a report he’d rewritten twice, while prepping to head out bright and early Monday morning to win his firm another multimillion-dollar contract. He’d made a killing as a high-end management consultant, but to keep the money flowing in, he had to be his best every day. There was always someone out there hoping to take his business away.

“Dash is well-suited to serve your needs, and he’s available at your usual appointment time.” Sheila had been the one to match him with Marc. Maybe… Why couldn’t anything go right this week? He really did need a good fuck.

“Fine. Send him then.” Thorne hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

“Excellent. Do let us know if he meets your expectations. If so, I can book him for your regular appointment.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Have a lovely day, sir.”

“It’s been a shitty one so far.” Damn, he sounded bitter and put out.

“Tonight will be better.”

It damn well better be. He ended the call.

***

Thorne’s intercom buzzed. “A Mr. Dash is here to see you. He says he’s expected. Shall I send him up?”

“Yes, Je-Michaels, thank you.” Michaels had only been working as a doorman in Thorne’s building for a few weeks, yet Thorne had lost count of the number of times he’d almost called the man Jeeves. Michaels’ British accent and starched appearance simply begged for it. Years ago he’d loved to watch and re-watch the Masterpiece Theatre version of Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Wooster, with Clint, his—boyfriend was certainly not right, even lover didn’t fit—boss. His boss whom he’d occasionally fucked. Now, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched anything but videos of junior consultants’ meetings.

Two crisp knocks at the door signaled that Dash had made the long elevator ride to his penthouse apartment.

Thorne’s pulse sped up. He resented how very much he needed this respite from work, these moments where he actually let go of all his clients’ woes and indulged himself. Yet he kept paying for it, every week that he was in town. He imagined being fucked roughly, hands held down, as Dash whispered dirty words in his ear. By the time Thorne reached the door, he was already hard. Dash damn well better work out; but whether or not Thorne requested him to come back, he was going to get fucked tonight.

He checked the peephole out of habit, although Michaels and the other doormen were quite strict about checking credentials before allowing anyone in the building. The young man standing at Thorne’s door appeared to be in his early twenties, as were most of the service’s employees. He had dirty-blond hair that curled loosely and was longer than he could have worn it if he’d worked in Thorne’s office. His hazel eyes had a mischievous look to them that held promise. His smile, however, wasn’t at all what Thorne was expecting. It was fresh and sunny and it reached his eyes, a true smile, like he was meeting a friend, not conducting illicit business.

Quit trying to read so much into him. This isn’t a business meeting where you have to size up the clients. It’s a fucking hook-up that you paid for.

Thorne opened the door.

“Mr. Shipton?” the boy asked.

Thorne nodded and stepped back so Dash could enter.

“I’m Dash; Sheila told me you were a client of Marc’s.” Dash lifted the strap of the messenger bag he carried over his head and sat the bag against the wall in the entryway.

“That’s right,” Thorne answered. “He suited my needs perfectly.”

“And you think I won’t?”

Fuck. Was he that transparent or was this kid that good? “What I think is that the rapport I had with Marc was hard to find.”

“He’s a switch and a damn good one.” Dash’s look said he knew that from personal experience.

“Correct.”

“So am I.” Dash smiled, and Thorne reacted as if he’d wrapped his hand around Thorne’s dick.

Thorne’s gaze moved down Dash’s body. He was shorter than Marc, who’d matched Thorne’s six feet, maybe five feet nine or five feet ten. His body was lean but not without muscle. If Thorne had to guess, he’d say Dash was a runner. His tight black pants clung to his body, giving the impression he had a rather nice package.

“Shall I make you a drink while we discuss exactly what you’d like tonight?” Dash asked, wandering toward the kitchen.

It took a few seconds for the words to register in Thorne’s brain. Dash was…hot, fucking hot. But there was something else about him, something Thorne couldn’t define, that had Thorne salivating to get him naked and in bed. If Thorne believed in anything as hokey as “auras,” he would’ve said Dash had a powerful one. Thorne pushed the thought away, disgusted. Too much work and too little sex must have fried his brain. He’d been so busy that week he hadn’t even found time to jerk off.

“I don’t need a drink, and I don’t want to talk.”

Dash grinned and propped himself against the bar in the kitchen area, cocking his hip out. The pose was obviously calculated to make Thorne appreciate his slim waist. “That eager, huh?”

“I realize some people hire escorts for companionship. They want to know someone is listening to them. I’m sick of talking: to clients, to employees, to fucking airport desk agents. I don’t need you to pretend to be my friend. I need to be fucked.”

“Sure of that, are you?” Dash asked, walking around the bar and entering the kitchen.

“Yes.”

“In my professional opinion, a bit of relaxing on the couch, talking, easing our way toward fucking would do you some good.”

What the fuck? Maybe Dash wasn’t right for Thorne after all. Thorne gave the orders here, even if he was the one with a cock up his ass. It was looking less likely that he was going to be in that position. Marc had understood that he didn’t want chitchat; that Thorne liked to get down to business right away, blow off some tension and then get back to work.

Dash began to explore Thorne’s kitchen. Thorne would have stopped anyone else, should have stopped him. What the hell gave him the right to start messing around in Thorne’s apartment? And yet, Thorne simply watched the young man. Dash wasn’t like anyone Thorne regularly interacted with. He appeared friendly and easygoing, but he obviously didn’t take no for an answer. Maybe he really was a very good switch.

Dash opened Thorne’s basically empty fridge and then a door to a closet that was supposed to be a pantry. Thorne used it to store weights and other fitness equipment. He worked out religiously, but he did it at home rather than wasting the time to go to a gym.

“You don’t have any food, like none, not even coffee?” Dash looked truly horrified.

“There are some condiments and beer in the fridge.” Why did Thorne sound apologetic? He didn’t fucking apologize to anyone. No, you don’t talk to them long enough to need to.

“That’s not food.”

“I order out. I don’t have time for cooking.”

“I’d cook for you if you actually had anything here.”

He suddenly imagined Dash standing at the stove, wearing nothing but an apron. A nearly crippling shudder of lust shot through Thorne. Damn, he really was a mess.

“I told you I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to eat either. With what I’m paying you, I know you’re not starving, so there’s no need to go scouring my apartment for food.”

Dash looked hurt for a fraction of a second. Thorne hadn’t meant to belittle him. He had no problem with how Dash earned his money, and he hated it when men patronized prostitutes and then degraded them for providing the very service those men obviously needed.

Dash studied him for several seconds. “So you truly want me to just fuck you and then leave.”

Did he? He always had with the men he’d hired in the past. “Yes.”

“Then your wish is my command.”

CHAPTER TWO

Dash began unbuttoning his shirt. Thorne couldn’t look away as Dash revealed tanned skin little by little. His chest was waxed smooth, the muscles well defined. Thorne couldn’t wait to get a full view. Finally, Dash pulled the two halves of his shirt apart, letting it hang, giving tantalizing glimpses of his pecs and pebbled nipples. One at a time, he undid the buttons at his cuffs. He watched Thorne with heat in his eyes as he brought his arms behind him and let the shirt slip off and to the floor.

Thorne was practically salivating.

“Like what you see?”

Thorne nodded mutely, fully hard now. Dash groaned as he pinched his own nipples. Then he caressed himself, hands moving sinuously down his sides.

Impatience made Thorne find his voice. “Pants off. Now.”

“We’ll get there.” Dash chuckled, but his hands dropped to his waistband.

He dipped a hand in and sucked in his breath. Thorne imagined his fingers teasing his cock.

“Off,” Thorne demanded.

“I thought you wanted to be fucked.”

“I do. Right fucking now.”

“When I’m topping, I’m in charge.”

Thorne didn’t like for anyone else to have control. He liked to be fucked, hard, but he didn’t like taking orders. So why were Dash’s words so fucking hot? Why was he contemplating letting Dash do exactly what Dash wanted?

Dash toed off his shoes. Then he lifted each leg and divested himself of his socks, taking his time, not rushing a single movement. Fucking bastard. Finally, he unfastened his pants, pushed them over his ass, and let them drop to the floor.

Thorne realized his mouth was literally hanging open. He shut it quickly, but he couldn’t resist licking his lips. Dash’s smile said he knew just how stunning he looked standing there in nothing but a pair of bright red and black Andrew Christian briefs that framed his cock and showed off just how sizable it was. Thorne was going to be feeling it for quite some time if Dash used him as thoroughly as Thorne wanted him to.

Dash tugged at his briefs until his cock bobbed free. It was as thick as it had looked tucked inside the stretchy fabric, maybe more so.

“Lube and condoms are in the bag. Get me ready,” Dash ordered.

Fuck. Thorne’s cock jumped at the command in Dash’s voice. But he stood his ground. This was not how things were supposed to go.

“I like to be fucked, but I’m no submissive.”

Dash glanced at Thorne’s crotch. “Your cock seems to disagree.”

“You’re gorgeous and naked and sex with you is a sure thing. Of course I’m hard.”

Dash raised a brow. “Play along. Say no anytime, but I think you’ll like what I’m offering.”

He did like it, and he resented Dash for knowing that. Without saying a word, he walked over to where Dash had dropped his bag, opened it, and started to look through it. Wow, Dash had quite an interesting collection of dildos, butt plugs, and…rope, the same bright red shade as his briefs.

“Front pocket,” Dash said.

Thorne located the necessary items. Then he walked back to Dash and held them out.

Dash shook his head. “No, I told you to get me ready.”

Thorne sank to his knees, giving in to his need to taste Dash first. He could have rolled the condom on, slicked him up, dropped his pants, and offered his ass. That’s exactly what he’d have done with Marc. No, with Marc he’d have told him to lube his own damn dick and then get Thorne ready. Why was everything so different with Dash? Thorne hated change, at least he usually did.

Dash sucked in his breath when Thorne wrapped a hand around his cock. Thorne would swear the sound was utterly unaffected, but Dash was a professional—pretending he was as into it was his job. Thorne licked at the broad head of Dash’s cock. God, this monster would stretch his ass so good. The taste of Dash’s precum had him wanting more, so he dipped his tongue into the slit. Dash’s hands came down on his shoulders, his grip tight. Thorne nearly convinced himself Dash was as desperate for more as he was himself. He took Dash’s shaft into his mouth, sucking while teasing his balls, rolling them in one hand and using the other to steady himself on Dash’s firm thigh.

Dash rocked forward, pushing into Thorne’s mouth. Thorne took him deeper, sucking, licking. Fuck, his jaw was going to pop if he took much more. He’d never had a man as thick as Dash.

“Enough,” Dash ordered.

Thorne was torn between seeing how far he could push Dash by defying him and obeying because the command in Dash’s voice had his dick hard as titanium. They might not have made it very far yet, but Thorne already knew he’d be engaging Dash for another round the following week. Hell, he’d like to have him back the next day. But no, once a week, that’s how he did things. Everything in his life had a place, and sex was for Friday nights.

His conscience laughed at him. You could be fucking someone every night if you’d get over hiding who you are and being afraid of a relationship.

Fuck off. Things are much better this way.

At least you take that stick out of your ass and put a cock in it on occasion. Or a dildo.

Dash pushed at Thorne’s shoulders. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

“That good, am I?”

Dash glared at him, but he could see the humor Dash was trying to mask. “You’ll do,” he responded; then he gestured toward the lube and condom that Thorne had set on the floor.

Thorne ripped the condom pack open and rolled it onto Dash’s dick, fighting the urge to rush. Then he drizzled lube over him and stroked him a few times to rub it in.

“Now strip and lube your ass,” Dash said.

“I already told you I don’t take orders.” Thorne’s protest sounded weak even to him. Thank God he spoke to his clients with more authority in his voice.

“You’ve been doing a damn fine job taking them so far.”

He refused to acknowledge that Dash was right, but he stood and did exactly what Dash had told him to do. He didn’t take his time like Dash had, though. He pulled his shirt from his pants, made quick work of the buttons, then slipped off his cufflinks and laid them on the coffee table. As soon as he was naked from the waist up, he pushed his pants and boxer briefs to the floor, stepped out of them, and bent to deal with his socks.

“Allow me.”

Suddenly, Dash was on his knees in front of Thorne. He hadn’t expected that. Not with the I-know-you-want-a-dom attitude. Dash tapped one of Thorne’s legs, and he lifted it so Dash could take off his sock. He kissed Thorne on the inside of his ankle, and that mere brush of Dash’s lips made him shudder.

Dash grinned. He’d noticed. The fucker. He took off Thorne’s other sock, slowly and methodically. He kissed that ankle too and then ran his tongue around the circular bone. Thorne couldn’t breathe. Since when was his ankle an erogenous zone? Dash looked up then, his mouth just inches from Thorne’s cock, which was hard and flushed and desperate for Dash to kiss it too.

Dash looked up and down Thorne’s body. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

Thorne didn’t know how to reply to that. He kept himself in shape, and he knew he was a nice-looking man, but he didn’t expect compliments like that.

Thorne was relieved from the need to speak by Dash taking his cock into his mouth.

Electric current raced through Thorne’s body. “Jesus!”

Dash’s mouth was so fucking hot, and he sucked so tightly, and oh my fucking God, he took Thorne all the way down, pressing his lips against Thorne’s pubic bone.

Dash pulled back. “Enough of that. I don’t want things to end too soon.”

Thorne wanted to protest, but he’d lost the ability to speak.

Dash grabbed the lube and held it out to Thorne. “Open yourself up. I want to watch.”

Thorne’s heart pounded. Just how much of him was Dash going to expose? The idea of bending over in front of Dash, showing off his ass, parting it, driving his fingers in deep while Dash watched… Why the hell was that so hot, and how did Dash know he would think so?

He squirted lube onto a few fingers and then moved farther into the living area where he could prop one foot on a stool. He’d never been into performing for his partner, but he sure as hell was now, at least according to his cock, which was so hard he didn’t know how he would last once Dash was inside him.

He positioned himself so Dash had a good view.

Dash gave a predatory smile. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Thorne snorted. “I bet you say that to all your clients.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

More flattery. Thorne should just enjoy it instead of overanalyzing. He pushed a finger into his ass, slowly moving it in and out. He could hear Dash breathing hard, but he kept his eyes closed. He added another finger, working them both deep. Then he held them still and used his leg muscles to move his body up and down like he was riding a cock.

“More.” Dash’s voice was strangled. Thorne looked at him; his mouth was open and his eyes wide. He’d lost the calculating look he’d had before, and the sweet young man was back, well, a sweet young man who loved ass, anyway.

Thorne added another finger, groaning as he sank down. He’d need to be really open to take Dash’s cock.

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