I stared at him and didn’t even crack a smile.

After longer than I had patience for, he righted himself and stared back, taking notice of my annoyance.

“You serious?” He suddenly looked affronted.

“Very.”

His expression hardened as his eyes narrowed.

“You, Dash Savage, Internet sensation and the biggest fucking draw I have here, bringing me more traffic than two of my other fucking stars combined, want to keep your dick to yourself all of a sudden and jerk it on camera. That what you’re telling me?”

“Yep.”

“No fucking way,” he scoffed. “Your videos get the most hits because of you and the way you fuck, Dash. Not how you pull your taffy. Jerk off on your own time. I’m not paying for it.”

I’d expected this reaction from Mike. He was a transparent piece of shit on a good day, and I was prepared for it.

I smiled and flicked the laces on my shoe.

“The hell you smiling at? I said no.”

“You’ll say yes,” I countered. “This isn’t negotiable.”

Mike pulled his feet off the desk and dropped them to the floor, propped his elbows on whatever papers he had in front of him, and glared at me.

“Say again?”

I glared, too, but did it still smiling, repeating slower this time so he wouldn’t fucking miss it.

“You’ll say yes. This isn’t negotiable.”

“And how the fuck do you figure that?”

“You said it yourself. I’m the biggest fucking draw you got here. Things are good with your ex and you wanna keep it that way, meaning you gotta keep pulling in the kind of bank you’re pulling in now. That won’t happen when I walk.” I leaned forward then, mimicking his position with my elbows on my knees, then continued, “And I will walk. You don’t agree to this, I’m done with Xstasy. Give you another two, three months before your ex realizes she won’t be getting her Christmas present, hops off your dick, and gets in front of a judge. How many kids you got, Mike? Three?” I shook my head. “Two years of not paying a dime for them, I’m guessing your pockets are gonna be emptying pretty fucking fast.”

Mike smirked.

I fucking hated him.

“You’re forgetting all the uploads I already have of you, Dash. That one of you and Jayden got over ten thousand hits.”

“Yeah. The day you streamed it. How many hits it get yesterday?”

He lost his smirk.

I cocked my head and explained to the idiot, “Depreciation. Shit’s only hot when everyone who subscribed got notice of the stream and logged on. Stayed hot for a few days thanks to word of mouth. Now?”

I let that question hang in the air between us.

I knew the answer. So did Mike, based on the agitation shadowing his face.

He was barely making jack-shit off dated uploads. Nothing compared to the new stuff. It was why he always pushed getting me here every chance he got.

I had a motive, giving that kid as much money as possible. That’s the only reason I obliged him.

Otherwise I would’ve told him to fuck off.

“See you’re understanding me now,” I said after he refused to offer up the answer, knowing I’d like what he told me. “You wanna keep me here? Keep pulling in the kind of money you need to be pulling in? You’re gonna let me switch to solos and pay me close to what I was making already.”

“How close are we talking?” he snarled.

The shit bag was pissed.

Too bad I didn’t give a fuck.

I leaned back and stretched my legs, replying, “Six.”

“Six,” he repeated as he cracked his knuckle. Laughter built in his throat and erupted on a breath. “You want me to pay you six hundred dollars to step in front of a camera and whack off when I was paying you eight to fuck someone? Do I look like an idiot to you, Dash?”

I smiled.

“Absolutely.”

Mike didn’t find any humor in my response. If anything, I think it pissed him off even more.

Again, I really didn’t give a fuck.

I was taking a pay cut but I really wasn’t if I played this how I was planning on playing it, coming in on my terms and filming more than I had been. It’d be just me, so I wouldn’t have to wait on a call when Mike had a girl lined up, and I was jerking off every day at this rate anyway, so what the fuck?

This would work.

Mike wasn’t as enthusiastic about the change as I was. His eyes darkened.

Flashing a smile, I reminded him, “Biggest pull you got.”

I watched him breathe tight through his nose and shake his head.

“Fuck,” he growled, shoving papers off his desk before slamming himself back in his chair.

He pulled out a pack of smokes and stuck one in his mouth, smacking his pockets looking for a lighter.

“You’re an asshole, man,” he mumbled around the cigarette, lit it, then took a drag. “Get the fuck out before I start giving a shit about my kids and tell you where you can shove this new arrangement.”

I stood up and turned, ignoring his pathetic little tantrum, and walked over the scraps of white and yellow that had floated to the cement, heading for the door.

“I’ll be in tomorrow to shoot. After six sometime,” I told him behind my back.

“Whatever.”

I slammed the door shut.

Yeah, Mike was pissed. And yeah, I still didn’t give a fuck. I belonged to someone. This girl fucking had me.