Page 57 of The Boss

For a moment, I just stared after him, then quickly followed, trying not to laugh. He emerged from the water with his cock still mostly hard, drawing a few scandalized glances, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He made a beeline for his towel and plunked onto it, studying his leg.

I crouched beside him. “Let me see—where did it get you?”

He pointed at his foot, where an angry red welt was already forming just above his ankle. “There. Fuck, it burns.”

I examined it, pressing my lips together to keep from grinning. “Well, you know what they say is the best cure for that.”

His face turned sour as he looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “If this is your way of telling me you have a piss kink, it’s not gonna work.”

I snorted. “I’m just offering my help. If you don’t want me to do it, then do it yourself.”

“I can’t,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I pissed in the water. I have nothing left in me.”

I shrugged, rising. “Your call, boss.”

He shot me a withering glare, but as another sharp pang made him wince, he groaned and extended his leg over the sand. “Fine. Do it.”

“Do what?” I asked innocently.

“Chris, I swear to God—”

“But how can I know what to do if you don’t say it?”

His jaw flexed. “Stop messing with me and piss on my fucking foot!”

A few heads turned in our direction, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Then I positioned myself, took my dick in hand, and aimed. When the warm stream splashed over his leg, Zac let out a soft groan—half in relief, half in sheer humiliation. All eyes on the beach seemed to be on us.

“Ah, I needed this,” I sighed dramatically. “You enjoying it as much as I am?”

He gave me a look that promised retribution, but I noticed his shoulders relaxing. This was actually working.

“Hey, it’s all about balance,” I said. “You came in me, I peed on you… Balance.”

Zac wiped his face, blowing out a heavy breath. “If you think this makes us even, you’ve got another thing coming.”

I smirked. “Bring it on.”

His eyes darkened slightly—calculating, wicked. He wasn’t joking. I could already see the gears turning, the way he was filing this away for later. And I was ready for it.

* * *

Later, asLa Isla Bonitaplayed from someone’s boombox, I rubbed sunscreen all over Zac’s wide, muscular back, my fingers trailing over the hard planes of his shoulders, the deep groove of his spine, the heat of his sun-warmed skin. He let out a pleased sigh, shifting under my touch, and when I finished, he pulled me down beside him, his hands skimming over my body with slow, teasing strokes as he returned the favor. He took his time, smoothing lotion over my back, my shoulders, the curve of my butt, his palm pressing just hard enough to make my breath hitch. If we hadn’t just fucked in the water, I would’ve gottenhard again on the spot. Hell, I was at half-mast as it was, my boner pressing into the sand underneath me.

We stretched out on our towels, sunbathing in lazy silence, the heat wrapping around us like a thick, golden cocoon. I took a few selfies, an obligatory‘sun’s out, buns out’TikTok video. Likes and comments started pouring in almost instantly. One was from Tyler—a single word: ‘Jealous!’

Zac rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, watching me through his sunglasses as I stared at my phone, liking comments and typing back my replies. The rhythmic crash of the waves, the cries of seagulls, the occasional burst of laughter from nearby men created a dreamy, hypnotic vibe.

When I finally turned my head to him, I caught the way his gaze lingered on me, his lips curving into something softer than his usual smirk. A rare moment of unguarded affection. My pulse stuttered, and he simply reached over and thumbed at my bottom lip, drawing me in for a kiss—slow, sun-dazed, intoxicating. We weren’t in a hurry. There was no need to be.

Still, I could feel the weight of eyes on us. A couple of guys shot us lingering glances, and when I looked around, I noticed more people subtly watching.

“Everyone’s staring at you,” I murmured against his mouth. “They probably think you’re some former NFL star or something. And you have the biggest dick on the entire beach.”

Zac snorted, brushing a wet wisp from my forehead. “They’re staring at you, goofus. If there’s an ass here that could make a straight man question his sexuality, it’s yours.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the grin tugging at my lips. He said it so casually, so easily, like it was an undeniable fact. And maybe to him, it was. Everyone around us assumed Zac and I were a couple, and I let myself bask in that illusion for awhile, let myself revel in the way it felt—easy, right, like this was how things were supposed to be.

We spent the next hour soaking it in, stretching out under the setting sun, Zac’s fingers idly tracing circles on my butt. We took turns cooling off in the ocean, splashing each other before wading back to shore, water sluicing down our skin. At one point, Zac brought us cold beers from a nearby vendor, and we sat there sipping and watching the sun sink below the horizon, the salt on our lips blending with the crisp, bitter taste. This was what happiness meant.

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