Bucked by Cat Johnson Page B

leaving and not being able to see Sage twisted his gut. He swallowed hard.
    He was in deep shit.

Chapter Eight
    “Great. Can you open your shirt?” Joe spoke without lowering the camera, but Mustang was getting used to that after the dozens of shots the guy had already taken.
    “Sure.” Mustang used his right hand to unbutton the shirt, pretending that his left arm was just fine.
    He’d taken off the bandages, covered the incision in clear surgical tape and not worn the sling to the photo shoot hoping the photographer wouldn’t notice.
    Even if they made him take his shirt totally off and decided they couldn’t use him because of the scar, they were too far into it already. He’d still get an hour’s pay. Well worth the drive to Houston.
    Striking a few poses, he was still feeling a little awkward. He was used to being photographed, but at sporting events. There they took action shots. None of this posing and “turn slightly to the left and stare at the floor to your right” crap.
    “Perfect.” Joe lowered the camera and fiddled with something on it. “Let’s try a few without the jeans.”
    Mustang whipped his head around. “Excuse me?”
    “Just the chaps, no jeans.”
    “You mean you want me in my underwear with my chaps?” Which underwear was he wearing, anyway? He hoped not the ripped pair. And why the hell did the guy want a picture of that? That wasn’t attractive.
    Joe laughed. “No, Mustang. No underwear. Just the chaps.”
    “You mean…with my business hanging out?” He frowned.
    The photographer smirked. “Your business . I haven’t heard it called that before but yeah, that’s what we want.”
    People on a sports website wanted to see that? “Where are these pictures going again?”
    “The site’s not up yet. Didn’t Guy give you the web address?”
    “Yeah. It’s on his business card.”
    “He told you there’d be nudity, right?”
    “Yeah.” Guy had said artistic nudity. What the hell was artistic about his dick? Joe waited expectantly until Mustang continued.
    “I’m just not sure why anyone would want to see me naked, is all.”
    Especially on a site dedicated to sports.
    “You’d be surprised. Believe me.” Joe shook his head.
    Mustang really needed to get a computer and learn how to use it, especially if his cock was going to be out there in public on it.
    “How many more hours do you think we’ll be shooting?”
    “At least another hour.”
    Three hundred dollars minimum. Just for some pictures. He couldn’t pass that up. Mustang sighed and started to unbuckle his pants. Then he had a thought and pulled his hat down lower over his eyes. “You think maybe we can put a fake name up there on the website though? So no one knows it’s me?”
    “You mean Mustang is your real name?” The shock showed clearly on Joe’s face.
    “Yeah, well, I mean it’s the name I ride under and everyone knows me by that name. So maybe I shouldn’t be doing this under the same name.”
    “Don’t worry about it. They’ll make up something good for you.”
    “Okay.” Feeling better about that at least, Mustang started to unbuckle his chap straps, all while Joe looked on. That was creepy enough, but not half as bad as when he pushed his jeans and then underwear down to his ankles.
    Mustang suddenly had the urge to cover himself with both hands and run naked for the hills.
    He buckled his chaps back on as quickly as he could, happy for any sort of coverage, even though the damn things didn’t cover any of the important stuff. Not in the back or the front.
    “Take the shirt totally off too. It’s covering you up.”
    Shit. Unhappily, Mustang did as he was told. He didn’t give a damn anymore whether the photographer saw his incision or not.

    Right now he was more worried about the fact that the man was zooming that big, long lens in on his dick.
    When he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Joe said, “That’s great. For these next round of shots, can you get yourself