Wrecked Over (Wrecked #1)

Chapter 1

Aiden

“Aiden, I’m glad I finally reached you,” Jerry Bighill’s loud, deep voice booms through my AirPods. “I’ve sent you multiple texts and emails, with no reply. We need your answer on those two shoots at the end of the month.”

I’ve been avoiding this conversation for as long as I can, but I can’t stall forever. Before responding, I close my eyes and take slow, deep breaths to center myself.

“Hey Jerry, sorry I haven’t gotten back to you,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You know I’m swamped with socials and my content. It eats up all my time.”

He lets out an impatient sigh. “I understand that’s your priority, but I expect you’ll honor your studio commitments.” His arrogant tone grates on my nerves. “OnlyFans is just a fad, and people will get tired of paying those subscription and pay-per-view fees. Don’t burn your bridges.”

I’ve built a solid reputation in the adult film industry. When OnlyFans exploded in popularity, I seized the opportunity to take control of my work. Ranking in the top 1% under the username AFoxXXTop, I have thousands of loyal followers across multiple social platforms.

Jerry’s weak argument, which reeks of desperation, has been his go-to line for the past three years ever since he took over my longtime studio, where I once thrived. But under his management, talent is slipping away from his grasp.

After my last studio shoot, where I was scheduled to work with a guy who ignored the studio’s testing protocols and gave me an STI two years ago—and Jerry shrugged off my complaint—I’ve reached my limit.

“I’m not doing studio work anymore,” I state, firm and direct. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I need to do what’s best for me and my future.”

“You can’t be serious. This is your bread and butter. You’ll regret walking away from easy money,” he pleads with me, his tone becoming frantic.

“Look, it’s not about the money. I’m working on leaving the industry altogether and not having sex as a career.” I didn’t mean to reveal so much. I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last to leave the industry.

“Are you kidding? What are you even qualified to do besides fucking?” His sneer vibrates through my earbuds.

I figured this would be his response and won’t reveal any more of my plans to this asshole. He’s manipulated me before, and I refuse to give him more leverage against me.

“Honestly, that’s none of your fucking business. If I end up bagging groceries or flipping burgers, that’s my decision. I don’t owe you anything. I’m out.”

I hang up the phone before he can respond, then pace across the worn oak floorboards of my living room.

My OnlyFans earnings more than cover my bills, allowing me to grow my investment portfolio; I don’t need the safety net of studio work.

In a few months, I’ll finish my MBA, secure backing for my real estate venture, and retire from sex work.

The conversation with Jerry has left me tense and on edge, so I head to the gym down the street for an hour of lifting weights and a run on the treadmill to sweat out the tension. The release of endorphins helps me refocus and boosts my mood.

Corey, whom I’ve worked with a few times on studio shoots, is coming over to film with me this afternoon. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since we finally coordinated our schedules. I’ve felt a connection with him when we’ve filmed together, and I hope this might lead somewhere.

Plus, I prefer to film with someone who works in the industry rather than a random hookup I meet at a bar or on a dating app.

In my line of work, STI testing is highly monitored, and I take extra precautions to protect myself, like being on PrEP, and others in the industry do the same.

Using condoms is pretty rare these days, which I don’t miss.

Returning from the gym, I straighten up my two-bedroom, two-bath condo on the second floor of a Queens co-op I bought five years ago.

The open living area has two large windows overlooking the courtyard, flooding the space with natural light and making it perfect for filming.

My complete recording setup, with high-end gear, is stored in the corner.

When I collaborate here, the living room takes center stage, leaving the bedrooms as my personal space.

The comfortable couch and chaise lounge are perfect for getting the right angles, and the second bathroom off the living room allows the guys to use it with no need to use mine.

If things go well with Corey, as I hope they will, I plan to make an exception.

I jump in the shower to wash off the sweat, then put on my favorite cherry-red jockstrap under loose shorts and a t-shirt.

Skipping the little blue pill today, sure I won’t need it.

I frequently take them to boost my endurance, but now that I’m in my thirties, I can’t help but wonder what they’re doing to my body over the long term.

Killing time before Corey shows up, I scroll to last night’s text from Malcum McMasters.

Mac’s a friend, a seasoned content creator, and one of the smartest guys in the game.

He and his husband, Leon, have turned OnlyFans into a full-fledged business; traveling, collaborating, and managing their content like pros.

I’ve joined them on a few shoots, and every time it’s been worth it.

MacM: Fox Man, big collab in Ft Laud next month during circuit. You in?

Aiden: I’m in! Who’s on the roster?

Even though it’s been a day since he reached out to me, he responds right away.

MacM: Sweet! Plan out later today. Mostly regulars. A couple of fresh faces, a solo guy and two rookies. Should shake things up!

Aiden: Perfect! Looking forward to it!

I rarely go to big parties like this anymore, but circuit weekends generate hours of footage from one-on-one sessions, threesomes, and group shoots, providing enough material for weeks of posts. Plus, spending a few days in the warm Florida sun beats the lingering chill in New York any day.

Setting my phone on the lighting rig and checking that the DSLR camera has a fresh memory card, I turn my attention to Maisy and Daisy, my twin tabbies, who circle my legs, vying for my attention.

I usually lock them in my room when I film, but since I’m hoping to move things in there with Corey, they get the spare bedroom instead, glaring at me as I herd them inside.

I’m just shutting them in when there’s a knock on the front door.

“Hey, babe,” Corey says as I let him in, looking him up and down and admiring the view.

He looks fantastic in a snug black t-shirt that strains across his chest and a pair of form-fitting joggers that accentuate his assets. God, what is it about a guy in gray sweatpants?

In his mid-twenties, he has a swimmer’s build with lickable lean muscle, and is a couple of inches shorter than my six-foot-one. He has zero body hair except for his full, wavy blond locks, framing his gorgeous face.

“Hey,” I reply, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ve really been looking forward to this. Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe just a bottle of water if you have it.”

I grab one from the fridge in the galley kitchen and hand it to him. Our fingers brush, and an unexpected spark shoots through me. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything remotely like interest.

“I’ve got everything set up in the living room,” I say, lowering my voice. “But we can hang out a little first… if you’d rather ease into it.”

He winces. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’d love to, but I’m in a bit of a time crunch, actually. There’s a party in Soho tonight that I’m going to with some friends.”

My heart sinks. Maybe I read too much into our flirty texts. It wouldn’t be the first time I misjudged. I’ve never had trouble finding sex, but finding something more than that is a different story.

He must see the disappointment all over my face, because his expression softens before he presses his body against mine. His gaze sharpens, a hungry look in his eyes.

“I may not have much time,” he murmurs with a sultry smirk, “but I’m more than ready to get down and dirty with you.”

I paste on a smile and swallow my disappointment, shifting into professional mode. “I like the sound of that. Let me get the cameras going.”

Heading into the living room, he’s right on my heels, stripping out of his clothes. Pulling my shirt over my head, he skims his hand across my back, but the thrill I felt when we touched a few moments ago is gone.

Once the cameras are recording, we waste no time.

I pull him in for a fierce kiss, our tongues and teeth clashing.

Tugging my shorts down, he drops to his knees, palms my half-hard cock through the jockstrap, sucking on the fabric.

I kick my shorts off the rest of the way, while he takes me out and engulfs my shaft down his throat.

Gripping his soft, golden hair as he sucks me, I relish the feel of him swallowing around the tip of my cock.

When enough time has passed for the sake of recording, I’m ready to bend him over and fuck him on the chaise lounge.

Angling him toward the camera, I rim his hole, stretch him out with my fingers, then ease my lubed cock inside.

“Oh, fuck, nice and tight,” I murmur as my dick slides inside.

Dirty talk is always a hit. Subscribers flood my DMs asking for more, and I aim to please.

Looking back at me, he moans deeply. “Oh yeah, give me that big dick.”

I take my time pounding into him from behind before flipping him onto his back, where I bury myself deep, thrusting hard, ready to get this over with. I’m trying not to overthink it, but the disappointment is taking its toll.

“You gonna come for me?” I rasp, grabbing my phone off its mount to get a close-up, while I jack his hard cock.

It doesn’t take long before his breathing becomes ragged, his moans deepen, and he’s coming hard, splattering his release on his chest and abs.