The studio air was thick with the scent of sweat and arousal, the lights casting harsh shadows over the scene that had spiralled far beyond any “shoot.” Stiles leaned against Derek’s broad chest, her body still trembling from the brutal orgasm he’d wrung out of her with his fingers. Her thong hung uselessly to one side, her fat pink pussy lips swollen and glistening, juices dripping down her thighs. The tiny bra straps had slipped off her shoulders, her massive tits fully exposed, nipples red and aching from his rough pinches. Liam’s camera still clicked sporadically, capturing the aftermath—her flushed face, the way her chest heaved, the slick mess between her legs.

Scott sat frozen on his stool, face pale, hands gripping his knees so tight his knuckles were white. His wife’s screams still echoed in his ears, the sight of her squirting all over his boss’s hand burned into his brain. He was hard—shamefully, confusingly hard—but the helplessness choked him.