Page 37 of Hurricane Love

“I could pump you full of cum and keep going,” Wylie assured him, getting a little light-headed himself from the visual.

“Christ, the things you say,” Diego said on a breathy exhale, then shook his head as if waking from a dream. “Come on. Your friends are probably waiting.”

“One more,” Wylie insisted and attacked the man’s mouth with a wet, sloppy kiss, turning this one into something softer and more sentimental. Diego acquiesced, letting Wylie probe his mouth with tenderness before stiffening up and dunking him in the water again. Maybe Wylieshouldwork out, if for nothing else than to overpower him.

They waded back toward the shore, Wylie taking his time so he could admire Diego’s naked backside. He’d never get tired of this view, noticing a new detail each time, like the sparse black hair that grew in whorls on his upper thighs, the tan line circling his waist from when Diego ran shirtless. His ass cheeks, paler than the rest of him and smooth as satin, a full moon Wylie longed to worship. He wanted to eat that ass Right Now.

Patience.

They grabbed their discarded bathing suits from the beach and rinsed the sand out before putting them back on. Uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like they could show up back at the boat naked.

“So, would you let me?” Wylie asked again, lightly squeezing Diego’s ass for good measure. They were only a breath’s space apart, and Wylie could see everything in Diego’s soft, caramel-colored eyes.

“Let you what?” Diego asked, playing dumb.

“Let me fuck you, baby?” Wylie whispered it into Diego’s ear like a lullaby while sliding his hand up to the small of his back and planting it there. “Pretty please, I’d be so sweet to you. Make you see stars. The best you’ve ever had.” Was he overselling it?Maybe, but the desire to make Diego feel all those things was definitely there

After a long, suspenseful silence, Diego replied with a sly grin, “Not on the first date.” He shoved Wylie again, then turned to jog back toward the boat. Wylie followed a little behind with a big, stupid grin on his face.

Diego was going to make him work for it. He expected nothing less.

CHAPTER 10

DIEGO

Diego wasn’tsure how it happened, how they’d gone from strangers to such intimate friends. Well, lovers. Too soon to call each other boyfriends. Diego wasn’t sure about what allthatentailed anyway, but they were definitely seeing each other almost every day, if not at work then for play.

Wylie’s name was consistently at the top of his messages and there were several photos of him in his camera roll, including the most recent, a selfie of him pouting with his big, blue eyes staring at the camera because he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. In that instance it had been for Diego to blow off work and go waterskiing with him and the girls. Wylie got his wish a few days later on Diego’s next day off, which had made for a memorable afternoon. Diego had a real problem saying no to this man.

They’d been on a few more dates just the two of them: to the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, to a seafood place on Indian Rocks Beach that Wylie claimed had the best grouper bites (he was right), and then, as a throwback, they went to the skating rink. Wylie was decent enough at roller skating, but Diego kept winding up on his ass, not to mention all the little kids falling everywhere on the rink and tripping him up. They’d ended up turning in their skates and playing video games in the arcadeinstead. Wylie was a whiz at most of those old school video games and traded in his tickets for a little stuffed sea turtle, which now sat propped on Diego’s dresser as a momento from their date. If the inmates at PCI could see him now…

Wylie was making him soft.

But, honestly, Diego deserved a little softness in his life, didn’t he? And besides that, Wylie was interesting and fun to be around. He was a different kind of addiction, a healthy one, Diego hoped, though he was wary of developing any sort of dependence on another person. He could tell himself all day long that it wasn’t serious, and they were just having fun, but the feeling Diego got whenever he saw that Wylie had messaged him or when he first caught sight of him at the pit, and especially when they were meeting up for a date–that feeling made him nervous.

Presently, Diego was at Sunset Village for a Fourth of July barbecue Wylie had invited him to. The pit was closed for the holiday and Wylie had finagled a bunch of meat at discounted prices from Frank. The residents of Sunset Village had all contributed sides, everything from a bomb-ass mac n’cheese to a suspicious-looking casserole known simply as, “the green stuff.”

Wylie and Diego manned the grill while an interesting mix of seventies rock and reggaeton played on the speakers. After everyone had stuffed their faces, they congregated around the main yard in lawn chairs and waited for the city fireworks display to begin. Wylie was handing out lit sparklers to all of his neighbors while Kayla followed behind him, waving around a glowstick in her chubby fist. “Unki Wy,” she called him, trailing him like a puppy, not unlike Diego himself. It seemed no one was immune to Wylie’s charms.

Brian MacPherson was notably absent, and Hannah was chatting with one of Wylie’s neighbors while keeping an eye on Kayla, a red Solo cup of sweet tea in one hand.

Diego thought about the overnight bag he’d packed, now sitting somewhere in Wylie’s trailer, and the invitation he’d received earlier that day via text,Stay the night?It had includedprayer hands and the pleading face emoji as well as the eggplant, peach, and sweat droplets. Diego was still learning this new form of text-speak but had deduced that orgasms were on the menu.

Was Diego really going to give up his ass tonight? He shifted in his seat. It seemed a strong possibility.

“How’s the pit been treating you?” Nancy asked as she took up the empty chair beside him, a half-finished cigarette in one hand and an ash tray in the other. Diego swiftly switched mental tracks.

“Good, ma’am. Frank’s started me on the smokers. He puts in long hours, and I’m sure he’d like to sleep in a couple days a week, spend some more time with the kids.”

“He’s got three now, is that right?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. The littlest one’s still in diapers.”

“Call me Nancy, Diego,” she said with a warm, weathered smile.

Calling a former teacher by their first name? Blasphemous. “How about Mrs. Miller?” he suggested.

“Lord, no, Mrs. Miller retired. It’s just Nancy now, I insist.”