The casting room still hummed with the aftermath of Stiles’s handjob triumph. Cum streaked her porcelain skin, drying in sticky trails across her massive tits and flat tummy. She stood there naked, thighs slick with her own arousal, pink pussy lips swollen and glistening under the harsh lights. Derek wiped himself off with a towel, his thick cock still semi-hard, while Mr. Argent adjusted the camera angles, a sleazy grin plastered on his face. Jackson hovered in the corner, eyes wide with a mix of pride and something hotter—his hand subtly rubbing the bulge in his pants.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Mr. Argent said, voice rough with lust as he eyed Stiles’s flushed body. “Handjobs are cute, but we need to test those oral skills. Can’t have a star who can’t suck dick like a champ.”