“May as well go out further now that we’re wet,” he concedes, tugging me by the hand.
Before long, the waterline is above his belly button.
I’ve never seen him like this.
Free and joyful.
“Dive under the waves with me!”
His voice carries above the roar and tumble of the tide.
The water muffles all sound, shutting out the world above.
We emerge on the other side of the swell, arms linked before the next peak breaks.
Now his hair forms ringlets, damp and slick.
Wet shirt riding up on one side of his body, I can’t resist.
Any excuse to touch him.
I ran a hand over his abs.
And then I see it.
Yeah, that’s gonna be a problem.
Not just for me, but for everyone within our periphery.
“White shorts with nothing underneath was a bold choice for the beach,” I muse. “I'm gonna have to hold my hand over your dickwhen we exit the waves. To protect the innocent minds of the public.”
“Let them look,” he says, pressing himself against my hip. “Especially you.”
“As if I could stop myself.”
My lips meet his.
A salty kiss. A soft tongue.
Water froths against our bodies, soaked fabric clinging to every contour.
We plant our feet in the sand, mouths paired in tender unison.
Every kiss makes it harder to step away from him.
The ebb and flow of the sea covers all sinful deeds beneath the surface.
Hands venture inside shorts, hungry for bare skin.
I feel something harden beneath my touch.
Marco's breath shallows.
“Put your finger inside me,” he says.
A devilish look passes between us.
I flip him around, sliding his pants down over his hips.
