Page 32 of Hurricane Love

Diego kicked off his flip-flops and settled on his towel, digging his toes in the sand. His bare feet did not disappoint. Nicely shaped with high arches, cute, brown toes and trimmed, moon-white crescent nails on pink beds. Wylie could definitely see himself massaging those feet one day, maybe even sucking on his little piggies, if Diego was into that. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to be weird about it.

“You should let me put sunscreen on your back,” Wylie said, hinting that Diego might want to take his shirt off already. He’d been waiting for what felt like an eternity to see this man’s chest. All he’d gotten to see the other day was his dick, sort of, and he’d been too distracted by the blowjob to even make note of it.

“I’m good. I put some on before you picked me up,” Diego said.

“There’s no way you could reach all of your back with massive shoulders like that,” Wylie argued.

“Massive?” Diego asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“You know how you look. Like youprioritizeprotein.”

Diego smirked and said, “Fine, do your worst.” He reachedback with one hand and yanked off his t-shirt in one smooth motion. Wylie feasted on the immaculate architecture that was Diego’s chest and shoulders. How was it even possible to be that sculpted? He’d only ever seen professional athletes with a chiseled physique like that. Honestly, he was a bit jealous.

“How many hours a day do you work out?” Wylie asked. The man had to be some kind of machine with the weights. He probably gave it his sole attention, just like he did when slicing meat or sucking dick. Ahem.

“A few,” Diego said. “I also run. Helps me burn off my nervous energy. Quiets my mind.”

“Well, it’s working for you,” Wylie said.

Diego grinned shyly and Wylie instructed him to lean back a bit, so that he could take in the full expanse of his chest, since he decided that his front needed sunscreen too. Fuck any homophobes who might be watching, he was going to relish this experience. And besides, Diego could probably kick their asses anyway.

“What’s that one say?” Wylie asked, regarding the tattoo just beneath his collarbone, some cursive script in Spanish.

“My crazy life.”

“Gonna have to change that one to ‘my stable life’ or ‘my mundane life,’” Wylie said.

“That’s definitely the goal,” Diego agreed with a good-natured grin.

Wylie worked the cream over the man’s chest, really putting in the elbow grease to rub it in so that it blended with his brown skin. The hair on his chest was sparse, with just a few black hairs surrounding his nipples, which Wylie managed to tease just a little. Taut little brown nubs that seemed to want more attention than a public beach would allow.Note to self,Wylie thought.

“You’d look fucking fine with nipple piercings,” Wylie said as Diego’s pecs flexed underneath his hands; he was practically salivating over the thought of it, his pierced and tatted baddie.

“I look fine without them,” Diego said with a cocky grin, his teeth practically glowing in the shade.

Hard to argue with that. “Which saint is that?” he asked as he moved on to Diego’s shoulder where there was a woman with her head bowed in prayer, clasping a rosary between both hands.

“That’s a rendition of my grandmother when she was younger.Mamama.Very pious. She’s always been a saint in my eyes. I need her on my shoulder, reminding me to make good choices.” Diego rubbed his shoulder, then kissed two fingers before raising them in the air.

Wylie recalled the conversation between Diego and his aunt. This must be the grandmother who passed away while Diego was in prison. The woman in the tattoo had her eyes closed, but he could still see the family resemblance.

“That’s a nice tribute,” Wylie said, thinking how he might want to get a tattoo to honor his mother someday.

“Yeah, this is all I have left of her now,” Diego said and tugged on the brim of his hat so that Wylie couldn’t see his eyes. He was doing it again, getting all up in Diego’s business. He didn’t want to scare the man away, he just wanted to know everything about him, immediately.

Chill, bro.

The tattoo of his grandmother blended into a rose and then puffy, cumulus clouds with a sun peeking out with the tableau ending at his wrist. Diego’s other tattoos included a small one along his rib cage that said “Trust” and some tribal art on his lower back. Wylie was ecstatic about that one too. “Lean forward,” he bossed, pushing on Diego’s shoulders. “Fuck, you’ve got a tramp stamp. So sexy.”

Diego snorted and shook his head. “It’s not a–are you done yet?”

“No, I’m not. Damn, that shit is so hot.” Wylie took his time working the sunscreen into Diego’s smooth lower back while he imagined bending the man over and plowing into that tight, muscular ass while staring at the intricate pattern. He was hard as fuck just thinking about it. “It’s like it’s a compass pointing me directly to your asshole,” Wylie remarked.

Diego turned with insane speed and tackled Wylie right there on the sand. Wylie attempted to wrestle him, but all of his blood was already in his dick, and he was too horny to fight back. He lasted about ten seconds before Diego had him pinned, and then Wylie couldn’t help but roll his hips, his hard prick brushing against Diego’s thick thigh.

“Sorry, instinct,” Wylie said.

“You are a menace,” Diego replied, but there was good humor to it too, and judging by the rod pressed up against his hip, Wylie wasn’t the only one thinking about fucking. “You’re lucky I don’t spank your ass for that mouth of yours.” Diego stood and brushed himself off, subtly adjusting his swim trunks, which were tight around his dick and then, with a final head shake at Wylie, turned and jogged off to the water.