Page 27 of The Money Shot

As I scrolled down, I found more pictures of him in various poses, each one showing off his toned muscles and chiseled abs. He was like a Greek god come to life, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. My heart raced as I clicked on one of his videos.

The reel started with him standing in front of the camera, wearing only his speedo.

“Imagine my hands on your body,” he whispered, his eyes locked on the camera with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “Feel my touch, my hot breath against your skin.”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the screen. His words painted vivid images in my mind, each one more tantalizing than the last.

“I want to taste you,” he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of hunger. “To explore every inch of you.”

My fingers trembled as I watched him, his confidence and charisma pulling me deeper into his fantasy. It was as if he knew exactly how to push my buttons, how to awaken desires I never knew existed.

Suddenly, he yanked off his speedo and revealed his sizeable erection. My eyes widened in shock and arousal as he played with himself while continuing to talk dirty. My cock twitched at the sight, and without even thinking about it, I reached down and began stroking myself.

As the model continued to jerk off, I felt myself getting closer and closer to climaxing. But then an idea struck me—I didn’t want to finish just yet. If I was going to take sexy pictures ofmyself for this website, I wanted to capture this same feeling this man was giving me right now.

With great effort, I forced myself to stop before reaching orgasm and took a deep breath. This was going to be a challenge for sure, but I was determined not only to succeed, but to excel at it.

“I can do this,” I muttered under my breath, more to convince myself than anything else. I reached for a piece of the sexy underwear I’d picked up the other day. It was a black mesh number that left little to the imagination. It hugged my skin like a second layer, clinging in ways that made me blush, even here, alone in my room.

Next, I grabbed the bottle of massage oil. If I was going to pull this off, I needed to look the part—glossy, like I knew exactly what I was doing. I squeezed a handful and worked it over my chest, shoulders, down my arms, across my abs, anywhere I could reach. The stuff was slick, adding a polished gleam to my skin. It was strange seeing myself like this, all shiny and posed up. But Lucien was supposed to be confident, right? So maybe, for now, I just had to pretend to be.

I angled the selfie stick, clamping my phone in place. Then, I stretched out on the bed, adjusting the covers to make them look a little more casual, like I’d just woken up looking this… exposed. Holding the phone above me, I did my best to channel MrBigDck’s easygoing confidence.

I shifted a little, tilting my head and giving the camera my best “come hither” look. But instead, I felt like I was just squinting at the ceiling. I tried again, lifting my chin, giving a little smirk. But it didn’t feel sexy—it felt like I was half-heartedly smiling in a family photo. How does anyone make this look easy?

After a few more tries, I scrolled through the shots. Half of them looked like I was about to sneeze; the rest were… awkward,to say the least. Sighing, I shifted the phone back up and took a breath.

I wasn’t Liam right now. I was Lucien, and that sexy motherfucker could turn anyone on.

“I know what to do,” I muttered, then I took the phone off the stick, got up, and found the phone clamp and attached my phone to it. After attaching the clamp to my dresser drawers, I made sure it had a clear view of my bed. Then I hit record and laid back down.

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to block out the fact that I was alone in my bedroom, pretending to be someone else. In my mind, I was no longer Liam, an awkward guy who’d only slept with a handful of men. No, I was Lucien, the confident and seductive webcam model.

I imagined OnlyTopMan sitting in front of his computer screen, his eyes glued to me while I rubbed my hands all over my body. The thought sent a jolt of excitement through me, causing me to rub my cock through my underwear as if he could actually feel it.

But then I remembered I was supposed to be talking dirty too. I couldn’t just sit here and look pretty (or try to at least). I needed to give OnlyTopMan what he wanted—a steamy show.

“I want you,” I said, my voice coming out low and husky. “I want you to fuck me hard and make me scream.” It felt strange saying those words out loud, but it turned me on beyond belief. A surge of confidence went through me, and I pulled off the underwear. Just as I was about to toss them on the floor, I stopped, then brought them to my nose and inhaled my musky scent.

I continued talking, letting every filthy thought that came into my mind spill out of my mouth. “I want you to suck my cock until I can’t take it anymore,” I moaned. Grabbing the bottle of oil next to me, I coated my cock with it and began strokingmyself. The slickness felt incredible against my skin, and each touch sent shivers down my spine.

Suddenly, an image of Jack popped into my head, naked and hard like the other webcam models. Without warning, I shot my load, coating my stomach and chest.

“Oh my God, Jack!”

Chapter Sixteen

Jack

Ileaned back in my chair, one eye on the architectural sketches sprawled across my desk. Today’s client was a retired contractor planning to open a high-end doggy daycare. He was eccentric, rich, and dead-set on some kind of hybrid Mediterranean–industrial aesthetic, but as I flipped through his email chain, I struggled to keep my attention on it. Since I started at the firm, I felt like I was stuck handling these small-scale projects—stuff no one else really wanted.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. I knew I had more to offer than what they were giving me. More skill, more vision. Instead, I was grinding through low-stakes clients, struggling to see the payoff. It didn’t help that half my coworkers seemed to coast by on charm and seniority. I wanted the bigger clients. The ones that would let me actually make something I could be proud of.

The shrill ring of my desk phone snapped me back to reality. I glanced at the caller ID: Andrea Vaughan. Fuck. Just what I needed, a chat with my boss. I picked up, trying to sound neutral. “Jack Barrett.”

“Come to my office.” Andrea’s voice was clipped, all business. She was one of those people who communicated an entire order without the fluff.

“Sure, Andrea.” I tried to keep the reluctance out of my tone as I hung up. With a sigh, I pushed my chair back, grabbed my notepad just in case, and headed down the hall. When I arrived, her secretary told me I could enter.