Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Holy fuck, are you trying to make me come in my pants? We are in public, you know.” Thorne didn’t really care though. Dash had him completely under his spell.
“I wish I could fuck you again tonight,” Dash said, voice barely a whisper.
So did Thorne, but before he could respond, Dash continued. “Unfortunately, I have to bake early in the morning; but you’ll be thinking about next week when you get home, won’t you?”
“Bastard; you know I will.”
The car Thorne had ordered arrived then. “The car service bills my account,” he told Dash.
Dash nodded. “Next Friday?”
“See you then.” Thorne tried to play it cool even though his cock was throbbing and he knew he wouldn’t work when he got home. He’d jerk off thinking about Dash and wondering what he had planned for next week.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thorne’s office phone lit up. Lauren, his assistant, was paging him. “Yes?”
“Your meeting started at ten.”
Thorne glanced at the clock. It was five minutes past the hour. How had he lost track of time? “Thank you, Lauren. Let them know I’ve been delayed and I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a pause. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I simply need a few minutes to conclude something I started last night. It’s…for the meeting.”
“Of course, sir.” Lauren knew he was lying. She also knew she’d reminded him of the meeting when he’d arrived that morning, but she wasn’t about to call him out on either point.
He hadn’t actually been working at all. He’d been daydreaming about Dash. He couldn’t get the man out of his mind. Thorne had jerked off in the shower, fantasizing about Dash driving his fat cock up his ass, just like he’d done every fucking day since he last saw Dash. It was only Wednesday. Would he make it to Friday with his sanity intact? He could always see if Dash was free later.
No. He shook his head and started gathering the paperwork he needed for his meeting. Once a week. That’s enough.
He’d always been eager for his Filthy Fridays as he’d come to think of them. But he’d never obsessed over a man like he was doing with Dash. The intensity of what he felt had to be unhealthy. It was sure as hell unexpected, and he hated the unexpected.
Thorne forced himself to close up his briefcase and head for the elevator, nodding at Lauren as he walked by her desk. He didn’t want to go to this meeting. The client who’d called it was a pain in the ass and always had been, the kind who micromanaged the consultation process every step of the way, despite the fact that it was his managers who would implement the changes Thorne suggested, not him. The man’s company was a large one though, and he was well connected. Thorne knew better than to risk pissing him off by being even later.
Normally he’d be appalled that he hadn’t arrived several minutes early to set up the meeting room. He was terribly critical of tardiness in others. But that morning he couldn’t summon the energy to care. Was this burnout? Midlife crisis? Dash tempting him to a life of sin? He wasn’t sure he’d mind if it was the latter. The sins Dash came up with were well worth the price of his soul.
But he held more shares than any other partner, so he had to set an example. Friday would come eventually, and he’d have his fun with Dash. Right now, he needed to focus on what was important, not on frivolous pleasures.
***
RILEY’S PHONE STARTED ringing as he walked through the door of his apartment. He’d been baking with Susan for the last six hours. He was exhausted and covered in flour despite the apron he’d worn. All he wanted was a shower. He pulled his phone from his pocket, hoping he could ignore whoever was calling. It was Marc. He’d been avoiding Marc’s calls since Friday, texting him back, saying he’d call later.
He had to talk to him eventually. Maybe if he sounded as exhausted as he felt, he could beg off before they got too deep into a conversation about Thorne. Riley knew it was a bad sign that he didn’t want to talk about Thorne. But what had happened Friday night with Thorne—the dinner as much as the intense sex—was special and private and the best fucking “date” Dash (and Riley too for that matter) had ever had. If only Thorne wasn’t a fucking client.
Riley flopped onto a kitchen chair and accepted the call. “Hey man, what’s up?”
“Wow! You actually deigned to answer. Should I be honored?”
“I’ve been busy. You know I’m working as much as I can to save for school. Between that and baking, I’m worn out.” Riley was lying. While that had been his intention, Thorne had tipped him so well, he’d hardly taken any other clients.