Page 72 of The Casting Couch

And maybe I was.

I wrapped my hand around myself and stroked fast, with no hesitation, no shame.Just need.The need to mark this moment.The need to be part of what had just happened.To leave something of myself on him.

I came hard.Violently.Spilling across his shoulder and neck, chest heaving, my breath catching in my throat.

And somehow—somehow—it felt like the most intimate thing I’d ever done.

I stared down at him, wrecked and perfect, and I felt it again.

The ache.The fear.

The undeniable truth.

What the fuck was I supposed to do...

…if I was starting to fall in love with him?

ChapterSeventeen

Bradley

Istared up at Nico.

He was still panting, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon instead of, well.You know.

His cum was on my shoulder.My shoulder.Like he’d claimed me in front of God, twenty sweaty men, and about three dozen artificial cherry blossoms.I should have felt humiliated.I should’ve been throwing up, blacking out, or at the very least praying for a sweet, sticky death.

Instead?

I was rock hard.Still trembling.And the only thought in my head was, Holy shit.Nico was into it.Into me.

“Cut!”Laura’s voice cracked through the haze like a fire alarm in a dream.“That’s a wrap!Wipe it down, boys.”

The spell shattered.Bodies shifted.Robes got tugged back on.Someone coughed.

And I was still kneeling there in the center of the circle, drenched in at least eight different tax brackets of bodily fluids, wondering how the fuck I got here.

Evan walked up to me like we were exiting a yoga class instead of a perverse cherry blossom orgy.

“Great job, man,” he said with a grin.“You really, like, gave yourself to the scene.”

Before I could reply or curl into a fetal ball, Nico stepped forward.

He didn’t say a word.Didn’t move.Just looked at Evan.

And that was enough.

Evan’s smile faltered.His eyes darted from Nico’s clenched fists to his face, which was doing a pretty solid impression of a Roman executioner on his day off.

“Okay!I’m gonna go… hydrate!”Evan squeaked, backing away like the set was haunted.He vanished behind a light rig faster than a bad decision on Tinder.

I was still blinking the cum out of my eyelashes when I heard the unmistakable voice of Moira.

“Ohhh sweetie,” she cooed, storming in with a tower of warm wet towels like some overworked spa witch.“You look like you went twelve rounds with a fire hose.Here, let Mama help.”

Nico snatched one towel from her stack without even looking at her, dropped to his knees in front of me, and started wiping me down.

And here’s the thing: I should’ve been grateful.I should’ve been like, “Oh thank God, help me wipe off my shame.”But no.No, my brain chose this moment to switch from panic mode to teenage pervert on spring break, because Nico’s hands were slow.Gentle.Thorough.

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