“Dude, pose like a lady. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” Michael snapped, peering through his camera’s viewfinder.
“Michael, I am posing like a lady.” Liam stood up, cocking a hip and rolling his eyes. He’d slipped into the model’s body easily, every curve screaming femininity. “I’m stacked, aren’t I? Just hurry up.”
“I can’t hurry when you’re giving me this.” Michael’s voice tightened. “No client wants their dress bunched up on a rock. They’re paying to showcase it.”
Liam pursed his borrowed lips. With a slow grin, he tugged the dress’s top down, letting his breasts swing free. “Do these sell?” he teased, cupping and lifting them. Michael swallowed hard.
He’d chosen Liam for a reason. The guy’s power—possessing gorgeous women—should’ve lessened the diva drama, not created more. Yet Michael couldn’t deny the appeal of those perfect curves. “They’d sell,” he conceded. “But the client’s paying for the dress, not the tits.”
Liam scoffed. “You need better clients. How come they never want nude shoots? You stick me in these bodies only to add more clothes. It’s ridiculous.” He pouted on the rock, letting the dress slip temptingly.
Michael sighed. Using Liam was supposed to simplify things, not add complaints. “Not that kind of photographer, dude. Last warning. Hit the pose or lose some of your cut.”
