Money Shot

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

FINN

All day, I’ve been distracted as I rush around because of one teeny email notification from my favorite app hot on my mind.

Gunner has a new post!

Any other day, I would have opened that notification immediately, but with my sister’s engagement party tonight, I already have too much planned to fit into a regular Saturday.

When Melanie told the family that she was moving to Canada, Mom and Dad thought she was joking.

Then the paperwork started. Mel’s fiancé, David, began making plans to move home.

It was all going so fast, and my sister was so nervous that the idea of going with her popped out of my head without thinking.

Standard.

So now here I am, in their teeny tiny guesthouse, leeching their Wi-Fi, living in fucking Edmonton, Canada.

Technically, I’m here on a tourist visa at the moment, but being a registered nurse—a field where there is a short supply—I have a few job interviews lined up, and then it’s only a matter of going home to Chicago, applying for a work visa through the consulate, and then re-entering Canada once it’s passed.

It would have been easier to get a job offer first before coming here—taking any hospital or facility that would take me—but I’m at the stage of my career where I want a less demanding roster.

Moving to Canada this way is a whole lot of hoop jumping, and if it weren’t for Melanie telling me more times than I can count how grateful she is that I’m here, I probably would’ve given up already.

But for my sister and the right job, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for her.

We were always close growing up. I think because I always played the role of protective big brother. Hell, I’m still doing it.

I’ve only been here for a week so far, and even though there are a lot of similarities between the US and Canada, it’s like I’ve moved a world away.

Which … is actually kind of cool. I’ve joined a gym for the first time in my life to try and make friends—underestimating how hard it would be to hold down a conversation while gasping for my life.

I’m looking for apartments where I could live, and I’m in the early stages of laying down roots.

It’s only the beginning, but I have a good feeling about it.

David and I went out for a round of golf like actual proper grown-up brothers, something we never did while living in Chicago, but I have a feeling it was the first and only time.

I’m tall, tall enough that I played basketball in high school, and people assumed I’d be great at it.

But I have an issue where my limbs are as easy to coordinate as five thousand tentacles, and when I wasn’t missing the golf ball completely, I was hitting it into the most difficult-to-retrieve places that meant we left with half the number of balls we arrived with.

Moving also meant that my thought-out, homemade engagement present was left at Mom and Dad’s, and I didn’t notice until after they’d boarded their flight up here.

They’re only here for the engagement party, but I foresee a lot of back and forth for them.

Their only two kids have moved over a thousand miles away, but at least we moved to the same place.

But because my present is stuck in Chicago, I’m now standing in a department store, staring at a rack of towels, smelly gym clothes in the bag slung over my shoulder, while that email taunts me with all the fun I could be having.

Right. Focus.

On goddamn towels.

Do they even need towels?

I’m pretty sure they don’t, and I doubt they need saucepans either. Or bedding, or frilly cushions, and the coffee machine they bought for their place is more expensive than anything I could have afforded.

I turn in a circle, looking from department to department until I’m dizzy. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but it’s my sister, and a ceramic entertaining platter doesn’t exactly scream loving older brother.

I’m running out of time to buy this, return home, and shower before meeting Melanie for lunch, then getting ready for tonight, so I need to be goddamn decisive.

For the first time in my life.

I buy them some cute china espresso cups, a blend of coffee that has no business having the price tag it has, and a joking Don’t fuck this up! card that I only decide after paying for it was probably a bad idea.

I’d blame being in another country for my stressing over the tiniest things, but that doesn’t explain the last thirty-two years of my life.

My sister’s CLE-Class is waiting for me in the parking lot, and while I don’t think people necessarily need the brown leather seats or spaceship interior, it doesn’t hurt.

By the time I get home and carry her gift inside, I’m cutting it dangerously close for lunch, but the first thing I see when I open my phone is that email bubble.

It’s probably not healthy for that email to make me feel this good, but when it comes to everything that’s changed for me over the past week, Gunner’s posts are an anchor to everything normal.

And everything hot.

With the chaos my life has been suddenly thrown into, I think I can be forgiven that a little relief is all I need to get through. After all, self-care is more than eating a whole tub of ice cream in front of the TV, watching dramatic people try to find love.

I might be a romantic at heart, but when these emails come in, love goes out the window, and this deep, primal lust attacks me in a way that’s hard to resist. I could easily wait until after the engagement party to deal with this urge, but I’m excited to see what Gunner has posted today.

So, with a deep breath to hide that I’m feeling guilty, I click on Melanie’s number. It’s lazy and a cop-out since she’s literally right next door in the main house, but asking to be excused from lunch to jerk off isn’t the kind of thing you can do while looking someone in the eye.

“Sorry, I’m running late,” she bursts into the phone without even a hello. “I got caught up talking to the people about the venue tonight, and can you believe that they tried to move my seating plan to—”

“Sounds stressful,” I cut her off and latch onto the opening she’s given me. “Maybe we should skip lunch today. I just got home too, and we need to get ready for tonight and—”

“Are you sure? I can still make it. I only need ten minutes to get changed …”

“No,” I say, playing the part of good big brother while my brain starts a chant of email email email.

“The last thing you want is to be frazzled before your night. I’ll get ready a bit early, then come up to the house so you and David can have a celebratory drink before I drive us over. It’ll be great.”

Her relief makes me feel better about the whole ditching her for my dick thing. “Thank you, Finn. Have I told you how much I love you being here?”

“Only five times today. You’re slacking.”

She laughs, and I can’t hang up fast enough. I’ll make sacrifices to the god of siblings later. Right now, I need to worship something else.

Gunner.

My dick is already hardening when I open his page on the app. I’ve been a subscriber for a year now, highest tier, and if anyone found out how embarrassingly addicted to these videos I’ve become, I’d never live it down.

I’m a thirsty, thirsty man, struck dumb by mouthwatering abs and a pretty cock. He’s not the only one with those features on the site, but he is the only one who makes it feel like he’s talking to you and only you—which is a real talent when you have thousands of subscribers.

I double- and triple-check that my door is locked, scramble out of my clothes, and grab my bottle of lube before propping up my phone on the kitchen counter.

My laptop would be the better option, but something feels off about using my sister’s Wi-Fi for my porn.

“Hey, baby,” comes Gunner’s sexy, husky voice from the speakers. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

How one man can exude sex so completely is beyond me. His voice slides down my spine, like a warm drink on a frigid day, and the lingering heat settles in my balls.

As much as I try to edge myself with his videos, his voice has become enough of a trigger that my dick knows what’s coming.

All I can currently see is Gunner’s chest and abs, smooth and chiseled, flexing on my screen, the same way he starts a lot of his videos. The piercing on his right nipple glistens off his bedroom lights. Or studio. Wherever the fuck he films.

What I’d do to lean forward and suck on that piercing, dip my tongue into the groove of his deep V. To feel his abs tighten as I licked them.

I grab the lube, pump a generous amount into my hand, and wrap my fist around my cock right as Gunner finally steps back.

He’s completely naked, abs tapering down to that glorious cock, which sits hard and heavy over toned thighs. The bottom half of his face is on-screen, showing off his killer smile, but I barely spare a glance that way before my eyes are locked back on his dick.

Some men are made to be looked at.

Admired.

I cut off the moan building in my throat and drag my eyes from his flushed red tip, down his swollen shaft, and to his balls, tight and round, reddening by the second from the ring at their base.

Gunner flicks his cockhead, and it makes me flinch with a mixture of sympathy pain and arousal.

“I’ve been edging myself all morning,” he says, cupping his balls in a way that shows them off for the camera.

“Wouldn’t let myself come until you got here though.

Why did you leave me waiting for so long?

Fucking tease.” His breathing is heavy around his words, and I have no idea if Gunner is as turned on as he sounds, but damn, it works. It works so fucking well.

I clamp one hand on the counter to steady myself as I work my cock faster. With lunch canceled, I’ll probably watch this video one more time before tonight, but knowing it’s been here waiting for me all morning, I can’t hold back and make it last this time.

Gunner wraps his hand around his cock and strokes himself. “Wish this was you.”

I wish that too.

“You’d feel so good, wouldn’t you? Can’t even stop to get one of my toys, you have me so worked up thinking about you.”

A whimper builds in my throat. Everything from his cock to his swollen balls to those sexy veins in the back of his large hand is feeding my arousal.

His abs are tense, his hand working hard, and I’ve somehow fallen into the same rhythm he has as I give myself the friction I desperately need.

I don’t let myself have many luxuries, but my subscription to his videos is nonnegotiable. Watching him, jerking off to him, it makes me feel alive, and while I absolutely love my life, these private moments with Gunner are in the top five of my week.

Whether it’s one of his staged videos or a seemingly impromptu one like this, I crave it all.

My panting doesn’t take long to join his, our filthy slick slick slick coming faster and more desperately. My balls are simmering with my release, those happy, zappy, uncontrollable impulses racing down my spine and filling me with this incredible high.

I grip the counter tighter, fucking my fist and pretending it’s his.

My mind feeds me with images of leaning forward, sucking that sexy cock between my lips.

Maybe curling his legs forward and sinking into his ass like I’ve seen him do with his toys too many times to count.

Or leaning over this same counter as he fucks me like he’s doing to his lucky, lucky hand.

I’ve never wanted to be a hand as much as I want it right now.

The things that dick could do to me.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” he rasps.

My teeth clash together as I hold back the way I need to come.

“Me too,” he confesses. “I can’t help myself with you. I’m picturing your mouth around me, and I … I …”

My eyes cross as I picture the exact same thing, and as my orgasm builds, I almost miss the money shot.

Gunner aims his cock at his abs and comes. Rope after rope paint his skin, and watching his cock and balls throb under the pressure has me do the same.

My legs tremble as I come, only just letting go of the counter in time to catch my release. I’m panting and satisfied, dopey grin stretching across my face.

“Thank you, baby,” he sighs. “I needed that.”

He runs his fingers through the cum covering the crown tattoo on his abs, showing off the one on his forearm of a compass surrounded by feathers, but I’m spent. Head fuzzy, gut happy, feeling relaxed and incredible in a way only jerking off can bring.

I head into the kitchen to wash my hands, thinking about how, even with the huge upheaval, life couldn’t be more perfect. I might not have a lot when it comes to money or a sex slash dating life, but I am loved.

I have parents who have my back no matter what I decide to do with my life, and I have an amazing sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law who don’t mind paying my way for a bit while I try to find the perfect job, all because they’re genuinely happy I’m here.

Plus, I have Gunner and his videos for the sex stuff.

It could be worse.

By the time I’ve eaten, wrapped my present, showered, and gotten dressed, I don’t have time to watch the video again, but that orgasm was more than enough to get me through.

Despite blowing off lunch, I’m a good brother and have no interest in being late for this engagement party.

I’ve never met any of David’s friends and family since they all live here, but I’m sure there are one or two people I can hit it off with. Back in Chicago, I made the mistake of work being my whole life and lost contact with my friends. I stopped going out. I stopped living.

I’m ready for friends and to start building a real life here.