He was goading me. And teasing and flirting with zero shame. He smirked. He licked his lips, sliding his tongue out provocatively. His eyes were full of heat and dare. I was in a permanent state of semi-arousal around him, as though my dick knew where it wanted to go.

At least my board shorts hid it, not like his goddamn Speedos.

He went up the stairs first, so of course I got an eyeful of his arse, which did little to help the problem in my boardies. He looked around the scenery, noticed another boat off in the distance, then handed me his sunscreen and turned his back to me. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t think you’d care if I did.”

He laughed. “I’m not opposed to shoulder massages, either.”

I squirted a line of sunscreen along his shoulders and began to rub it in. “So, infuriating and insufferable are both talents you’re proud of?”

“Yep. Infuriating, insufferable… insatiable.”

I dug my thumbs into his shoulders, hard. But instead of hurting him, he moaned like he loved it. “Incorrigible.”

He dropped his head and chuckled, and as I rubbed further down his back, he groaned. “Jesus, you’re really good at this.”

“So I’ve been told.” I squirted more sunscreen onto my hand this time and palmed his shoulder, his nape, the tops of his arms, and he was moving with my touch. Pushing back against me, falling into me. Receptive, pliable.

When he turned around, he was also turned on. His eyes were closed, so I rubbed sunscreen over his chest, and when my hands trailed down over his abs, a smile tugged at his lips. But his eyes stayed closed, so I allowed myself to look. Being this close, I could see how his nipples pebbled, how his skin moved under my hand. How he angled his head when I ran my hand up his neck, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted.

He was beautiful.

I wanted to kiss him. He’d let me. Hell, he’d welcome it. But I had no doubt if we kissed right now, it wouldn’t end until we were naked and sated. The sexual tension between us was like a stick of dynamite, just waiting to explode, and once the fuse was lit—and we were going to light it; it was only a matter of time—it would be one helluva detonation.

I pulled my hand off him and it took him a few seconds to open his eyes. “Why’d you stop?”

I held out the sunscreen. “It’s my turn.”

One corner of his mouth pulled upward, a filthy smirk that tightened my balls. “Thought you’d never ask.”

I turned around so he could do my back, and he drizzled the sunscreen across my shoulders and began to rub it in. It felt so good; his hands were strong, certain, rubbing in slow circles, pushing and pulling me. I could just imagine what he’d be like in bed…

Goddammit.

“Want me to do the front too?”

I bit back a moan and seriously couldn’t have said no if I’d wanted to. I turned to face him, ignoring his sly smile as he rubbed cream over my chest, my stomach. “Don’t think this means anything,” I said.

He chuckled. “Of course not. Sun safety is very important.” His eyes said nothing whatsoever about sun safety. He gripped my chin, swiping his thumb along my jaw. “Though you do look particularly hot with white cream smeared next to your lips.” My mouth fell open, making him grin. “Don’t be so shocked. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I stepped back, and my dick protested. “Snorkelling,” I said, ignoring how hoarse my voice was. Ignoring how his Speedos almost didn’t contain his erection. Ignoring my own aching cock.

Ignoring how the sexual tension ratcheted up another notch.

I made myself walk to the back of the yacht, and I made myself pick up the mask and snorkel. I made myself take some deep breaths, which was useless because he was soon standing beside me. He was holding the snorkel and mask, and I was waiting for a comment about using spit to defog the mask, but thankfully he didn’t. He was actually serious and listened to my instructions and safety spiel with no jokes, no innuendos. I was grateful that he took it seriously—took my job seriously—and wasn’t a jerk about it. He knew when to play, and he knew when not to, and I really liked that.

So, with flippers and masks on, and mouthpieces in, we stayed near the yacht until he was more confident with the breathing. And in what felt like hardly no time at all, he could dive right under and blow the water out his snorkel without inhaling any water. We dove down to the bottom, the water crystal clear, the sand immaculately white, and he pointed excitedly when he found something new. A fish, shells, coral, he was amazed by it all. His whole face lit up, smiling around his mouthpiece, and if I’d had any doubts about joining him snorkelling, I was so glad I did.

It was amazing, and it was a joy for me to experience it with him. Gone was the smug, corporate type, and in his place was a guy who was in awe of his surroundings. He looked younger, happier, even more gorgeous.

And mind you, seeing him swim, dive, and glide underwater in those tiny white Speedos wasn’t exactly a hardship.

All too soon we were back at the yacht, and I wondered which version of Stuart would get out of the water. The finance guy, who flirted and acted all sexual to stop people from seeing the real him? Or the guy who let his guard down, who I’d just spent two hours with in the water, smiling with abandon and having the time of his life?

He threw his mask and mouthpiece on board, hoisted himself up so he sat on the platform near the ladder, and pulled his flippers off. He was breathing hard, but his grin was huge. “That was the best thing ever.”

I sat next to him and pulled my flippers off as well. “Yeah, it was.”

“Can we do it again? Somewhere else? Where there’s more fish and coral?”

His excitement was contagious. “Definitely. We can head around to the east of this reef if you want. It’ll have what you’re after.”

“Cool. When?”

“Now, if you want.”

He shrugged. “Maybe later, or tomorrow? I’m beat right now. You must be too.”

I conceded with a nod. “Snorkelling can be hard work.”

“Oh, hey,” he said, looking out over the bow. “One of the boats has gone.”

This made him happy, clearly. “If you want to go somewhere more private, you just have to ask. This reef is a popular stopover because it’s so beautiful, but I know a few other spots that are just as good and not so popular.”

“I don’t mind other people being around. Out there.” He gave me a nudge with his elbow. “But I gotta say, I’m glad it’s just us two here.”

Before I could reply, his stomach growled. He patted his tummy. “And apparently snorkelling is good for the appetite.”

I laughed. “Yep. Come on, I’ll grab us a snack.”

“Need me to clean up our snorkelling gear?” he asked as we stepped into the cockpit.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said. “It’s fine.”

“Or,” he countered, “you can show me how to do it so I can do it next time.”

I tied my towel off around my waist. “There’s absolutely no point in me arguing, is there?”

He grinned and rubbed his towel over his hair. “Nope.” He slung his towel over his shoulder, making no attempt at covering his now wet and very see-through swimmers.

“You do know those Speedos are see-through when they’re wet, right?”

He laughed and didn’t even look down. He held my gaze like a dare. “Yes. It’s why I bought them.”

I snorted quietly. “Figured.” I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Righteo, snack first, then we clean the snorkelling gear.”

We demolished a platter of fruit, cheese, and crackers, then true to his word, he wanted me to teach him how to clean and store the snorkelling gear. Which led me to teach him how to check and store the safety gear, which led to me teaching him how to use the radio, how to activate the distress beacon, how to call for help, and how to talk to other vessels nearby. Again, he was studious and serious, listening and only asking questions if he wasn’t sure.

He was so easy going, so carefree. So different from how I imagined he would be in a boardroom. Much like myself. He still had some dark circles under his eyes, though his face had some colour now; whether that was purely from the sun, or if it was because he was unwinding, I wasn’t sure. He sure looked a lot happier than he had just yesterday. He was standing up on the deck, arms out in the hot afternoon breeze.

“You know what we should do?” he announced.

I was almost too scared to ask. “What’s that?”

“We should put the sails up and see where the wind takes us.”

I squinted at him. “Really?”

“Yes.” He gave a hard nod. “Absolutely. Let’s just go wherever and find somewhere new.”

“Wherever the wind takes us?”

He jumped down into the cockpit, renewed energy in his eyes. “Yep. Except if it wants to run us aground. Or into a reef or another boat. But you know what I mean. Throw caution to the wind, live a little, do something spontaneous.”

I grinned at his enthusiasm. I highly doubted he got to do anything remotely spontaneous. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

His whole face lit up. “Really?”

“You remember how to pull up anchor and set the mainsail?”

He was beside himself with excitement, and he leapt into action. Fifteen minutes later, we were sailing, and his grin couldn’t possibly get any wider. Evidently, the wind was taking us northeast, which was kind of perfect. Once we were out of the shallow reef, Stuart was behind the wheel watching the bow. I clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve got this under control. I’ll go make a start on dinner.”

He gawped at me. “You can’t leave me out here driving by myself!”

I waved him off. “You’re not driving. You’re sailing, and you’ve got it covered. Give me a holler if you’re going to hit anything.”

His mouth fell open, and I laughed as I took the stairs below deck. We were barely cruising at four knots in calm water. This side of the reef was protected from open water, and all he had to do was keep the reef on our starboard, the mainland on our port side, and he’d be fine.

If I doubted him for one second, there’s no way I’d have left him. But something told me he needed this. He liked control, he liked testing himself, he liked proving himself. He liked to be challenged, and conquering this would be good for him. I knew that having a mid-career crisis meant a world of self-doubt and a crushing sense of failure. He needed something he could master, especially with the whole ‘throw caution to the wind, living a little’ speech earlier, he needed to do this on his own.

I sliced and marinated some lamb, made a Greek-inspired salad, stocked up the fridge with beer and water, and tidied up a bit. Then, “Ahhh, Foster? Hey, Foster?”

I dashed up the stairs. “What’s up?” I asked, looking around for any immediate problems.

“There’s a boat.” He pointed over the bow to a tiny white dot on the horizon.

God, he was being serious. “Yes, that’s a boat. Actually, that looks like a ship.”

He was alarmed. “Could we hit it?”

I tried not to smile. “If we stayed this course and maintained this speed, then yes. In about ten hours.” Then I laughed. “Stuart, it’s miles away.”

He shot me a look. “Yes, well, how was I to know that? You just left me here!”

“And you did a marvellous job.” I didn’t really have the heart to tell him his steering was probably the equivalent of my dad letting me reverse the car out of the garage when I was fifteen. It was technically driving but had nothing to do with road rules, driving at speed, navigating dangerous conditions, or how the vehicle handled and reacted.

“What about this reef here?” he asked, pointing up ahead. “Looks like a good place to stop.”

“Perfect,” I said. It was right in between the Elford and Moore reefs, and the currents were good. “Okay, bring her around starboard. Nice and slow.”

With his eyes trained on the bow, he eased the wheel and steered us in safely. Perfectly. “Now, wind the sail in,” I ordered.

He jumped up and had the lines in in no time while I took the helm. He was adept on board. Most people were wary of footing, holding on to anything bolted down. But not Stuart. It was like he already had a feel for the yacht, her movement in the water, his balance and spatial awareness in relation to her movement.

When he had the sail rolled in and came back to the wheel, grinning. “Can we drop anchor here?”

I nodded. “It’s sand below us. It’s fine.”

He released the anchor, then straightened up and gave me a worried look. “Sand… Of course, we can’t just anchor anywhere. It’d damage the reef.”

I smiled at him. “Exactly. I have a special anchor that minimises damage, even on sand. By law you can’t drop anchor on protected reef areas, but I wouldn’t anyway.” I walked to the back of the yacht and motioned for him to join me. “See? It’s just sand here. The anchor is fine; there’s plenty of swing room. Can’t damage anything. See those white pyramid buoys floating further in on the reef? They’re like a no parking zone.”

He looked out, nodding slowly. “So we can stay here tonight?”

“You picked a perfect spot.”

He smiled but was soon serious again. “What other rules are there to protect the reef? What can and can’t you do? There have to be rules, right?”

“Lots of rules.”

“But that’s a good thing, yeah?” He frowned. “Because it’s dying, isn’t it? The reef. I’m sure I read something about coral bleaching.”

I nodded. “Humans certainly haven’t done it any favours. But there are a lot of people working on conservation, restoration. Even understanding how coral behaves, how it lives, how it dies. Only time will tell if we can win the race to save it.”

“That’s kinda sad, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “For sure. We just need to make sure we do little-to-no damage at all.”

He looked me square in the eye and said, “Over dinner, you can tell me everything I should be doing, even at home in Brisbane, to be more aware. Like products that end up in waterways and all that kind of stuff.”

So I did.

I grilled the lamb while he set the table in the cabin, and we talked all things eco. He surprised me by what he already knew, but true to Stuart’s form, he listened, learned, asked questions. I thought I would have bored him to tears, but our conversation never stopped while we ate. It was rare for me to find someone I was on the same level with, and again, I was glad his friend had decided not to come with him. I know that made me selfish, but I just couldn’t seem to care. It also made me horny.

Knowing he was willing and had offered for me to take the friend with benefits option put my dick on edge. It had been a long time for me, and being so close to him didn’t help; this trip was by far the most intimate I’d ever had.

The fact he was still wearing nothing but his tiny swimmers didn’t help either.

Neither did the fact that he devoured his dinner and moaned with every mouthful, licking his lips and humming in appreciation. He wasn’t trying to be sexy or even playful—I’d seen that whole production to know the difference—this was just Stuart being himself without anyone else around to judge him.

He was letting his guard down with me, and that was the biggest turn-on of all.

He stacked his empty plate on top of mine and slid them onto the sink. “I had no idea lemon went so good on lamb salad,” he said, taking the small plate of sliced lemon. “You know what would go even better with lemon? Beer or tequila.”

“There’s both. You can pick.”

“Will you have one with me?” he asked, not really giving me any time to answer. He took two out of the fridge in one hand, grabbed the plate of lemon with his other. “Come on, let’s go watch this sunset.”

He was up the stairs to the cockpit before I could argue. Which, with Stuart, I was soon learning was a waste of time. I followed him up to find the two bottles on the bench seat with the plate of lemons and Stuart nowhere in sight. I heard a splash and a laugh, so I ran to the back of the yacht to find him in the water, grinning up at me. “Come in with me,” he said. I tried to think of a valid reason to say no, but he wasn’t having any of that. “I’m the boss, remember?”

I sighed, pulled off my shirt, and dived headfirst into the water beside him. I broke the surface to see his smiling face, his hair slicked back, and possibly the happiest I’d seen him yet. He swam over to me, put his hands on my shoulders, and tried to dunk me like he’d tried before. I grappled with him and easily shoved him under, which I think might have been his ploy all along because, when he grabbed hold of me again, he wrapped his legs around me.

He came up grinning, his hair flattened against his forehead, water beading down his face, and he bit his bottom lip. He had his legs around me, I was holding him up, and he was looking down at me. I was barely keeping my head above the surface, treading water, and he was so close he could have kissed me.

I thought he was going to. I wanted him to. I could feel his cock against my belly and mine responded in kind. Like he knew that, he unhooked his legs and pushed off me and swam to the ladder. With a flirty look over his shoulder, he hoisted himself up the stairs, his body bronzed in the setting sun, perfectly sculpted, dripping wet, and yep… those damn white Speedos.

By the time I climbed the ladder, he met me on the deck with both bottles of beer and he handed one to me. He’d poked a slice of lemon into it. “Cheers.”

I tied the towel off around my waist, hopefully hiding my semi. He was killing me with the push-and-pull game he was playing, and I wasn’t sure how much more of it I could take. I took the beer and followed him into the cockpit where we sat side by side on the bench seat. “Thought a quick cool off was in order,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s still hot and humid, even as the sun’s going down.”

“Well, it is the hottest time of the year in Far North Queensland.” I took a mouthful of beer and was pleasantly surprised by how refreshing it was. “Man, this is good.” I turned the Corona over in my hand; I’d had hundreds of these. I wasn’t sure what made this one in particular so good. Maybe it was the heat, the humidity, all the exercise we’d done swimming, all the sunshine. Maybe it was the man sitting next to me. I wasn’t sure if it was his body heat I could feel or the rays of the setting sun.

He took another mouthful and sighed, stretching his legs out. His towel was around his waist, but of course it was open at the front. He had no shame. “I could stay here all night,” he said. “This is utterly perfect. Look at that sunset.” It was true. The sky was a golden orange over an aqua-coloured ocean. It was gorgeous.

After a moment of silence to appreciate the end of the day, he started talking about Brisbane, his job, what he loved, what he hated. If it were a pro/con list for his internal debate about quitting, it wasn’t a contest. I didn’t mind him venting to me; I understood. I really did. I had been in his shoes, literally. Same industry, same job, same dilemma. And listening to him speak freely showed me an insight to the real Stuart Jenner. He was passionate, honest, driven. Eventually his tirade ran out of steam, and he looked a little lighter, like his burden had lifted a little. I had to wonder if he’d made a decision.

Another two beers and the sun was gone, but the lights in the cabin were enough and the light of the moon on the water was something special. We’d talked about everything from professional surfers to the sustainable palm oil industry in Sumatra, and I was a little buzzed from my three beers. I couldn’t deny my attraction to him. Not just physically, but he was smart and concerned about politics and the state of the world.

And the more he talked and laughed, the more I liked what I saw. The push and pull between us had become one steady push. It wasn’t a matter of will he, won’t he. It was now just a matter of when.

He’d been all over me in the water, and now sitting beside him, our shoulders almost touching, he would sometimes brush my thigh with his hand when he talked, and it sent a warm buzz through my veins every time. Every time he smiled, every time he laughed, every time he looked at me.

“You know what we need?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

“Well, a lot of things,” he said, grinning. “Some cabin boys. Some eighteen-year-old twinks. Do ships still have cabin boys?”

“I don’t think so.” I snorted. “And we’re not a ship. We’re a yacht.”

“Same thing,” he dismissed me. “But you’re missing my point.”

“Well, no, I got your point. But I can’t help with the twinky cabin boys.”

“You don’t seem to want to help me at all,” he said with a nudge of his shoulder. “I all but offered myself to you and you said no.”

“I didn’t technically say no…”

He stared straight ahead. “You didn’t say yes either.” Then he sighed and changed his tone. “And that’s fine. I can take a hint. You want to be in my arse, but you have those business ethics that prohibit fraternisation with clients. I get it.” He waved his hand. “Good work policies are… honourable, I guess.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him I… I wasn’t sure what I was going to tell him. But my mind had taken me to the gutter as soon as he said I wanted to be inside his arse, and I was stuck there. Visual prompts and filthy fantasies took hold of all reasonable thought.

He stared at me then for a good long second. “You know what we do need?” he said, standing up and disappearing below deck. He appeared a second later with a bottle in one hand, two lemons in his other. “Tequila.”

I snorted out a laugh. “My favourite cocktail mixer. A shot of tequila with a dash of good intentions and you have a cocktail aptly named ‘What the Fuck Have I Done?’.”

Stuart laughed as he trudged up the stairs. His towel was long gone; just his tiny scrap of swimwear remained. “Well, two What the Fuck Have I Dones? coming right up.”

He sat back beside me and held up the bottle. “What even is this?”

“Alquimia Reserva de Don Adolfo Extra Añejo,” I replied. “The world’s best tequila. Goes down easy, so be careful.”

He gave me a sultry grin. “Oh, believe me. I love things that go down easy.” I rolled my eyes, but he laughed as he quartered the two lemons on the plate. When he was done, he took the lid off the bottle and a piece of lemon. “Lick, sip, suck. You game?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He chuckled. “Well, you do. But I can see in your eyes what you want. You just need a little Mexican courage.”

I looked at the bottle and then the lemon he was holding. “You don’t have any salt.”

His voice was rough and he grinned salaciously. “Oh yes, I do.”

Then he leaned in, and licked up my chest to my neck. I was stunned, speechless, and he laughed, took a small swig of tequila, then sucked on the lemon. He shook his head and breathed through the burn of alcohol and sour lemon.

“Oh, that is good,” he said. I didn’t know whether he was talking about licking the salt off my skin or the tequila. “Your turn.”

He shoved the bottle in my hand and held out a piece of lemon. I was done with the push-and-pull game. I was done with not touching or tasting the platter of man on offer in front of me. I could still feel the burn of his tongue on my skin.

I took the lemon, but I held it up to his mouth. “Open.”

His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared. Oh, he likes being told what to do. Then he parted his lips, just enough for me to slide the lemon in. I leaned right in, almost pushing him backward so I was over him, and I licked from his collarbone to the edge of his jaw. The salt on his skin from the ocean, from the humidity, was tangy on my tongue. He moaned as I licked up and nipped the angle of his jaw with my teeth. I took a quick swig of tequila, then held the back of his head and took the lemon from his mouth.

It was a tangle of salty lips, sweet tongues, and sour lemon. It was the most delicious kiss I’d ever had.

I pulled back with the slice of lemon between my lips and slowly drew it out of my mouth. He was panting, his lips wet, his chest heaving, his cock hard across his hip, barely confined in his Speedos.

He snatched the bottle from me, took a piece of lemon, then stood up and straddled me.

Oh fuck.

He tilted my head back while he slipped the lemon into my mouth. Then he licked my neck, my shoulder, my ear, swallowed a mouthful of tequila, then tried to pry the lemon out from between my lips. But I wasn’t surrendering it easily. I gripped his hips and bucked up against him, and he gripped the back of the seat in one hand, my jaw in his other.

“Give it to me,” he growled.

The lemon? My cock? I wasn’t sure at this point, but at that moment, I’d have given him anything he wanted. I relinquished the lemon and he sucked it into his mouth while grinding down on me. His cock was fully erect, peeking up from under the elastic of his Speedos with every roll of his hips.

Fuuuuuuck.

Then he stopped still, leaned back a little, and said, “Lick my abs.”

Doing exactly as he instructed. I trailed my tongue up his stomach to his sternum. He tilted my head back and poured a quick drop of tequila into my mouth, then took the lemon and squeezed it over his nipple up to his collarbone.

Fuck yes.

I lapped at the lemon juice, flicking his nipple with my tongue. He arched his back and I held him while I licked and sucked his pebbled flesh. He rolled his hips, searching for friction, and his rock hard cock slid out of his swimmers.

My mouth watered.

“Stand up,” I ordered.

He slowly put one foot down, then the other, and I pulled him between my spread knees. His cock was glorious; veined, uncut, and tanned like the rest of him. I held the base of it in my fist and took him straight into my mouth.

Stuart fisted my hair, pulling tight and guiding me with long, deep strokes. He sure wasn’t timid about demanding what he wanted, and it was hot. My cock was aching but I ignored it for now, making him my one and only focus.

He moaned while I worked him over. “Fuck yes,” he bit out. “God, that’s good.” He thrust into my mouth, deeper into my throat. “Holy shit.”

I swallowed around him and he tried to pull out, as if that was the only warning he could give me, but I gripped his arse and pulled him all the way down. He groaned long and loud as he came, pulsing down my throat. He thrust a few more times, then, trembling, he pulled out, unsteady on his feet.

With a bit of a laugh, he went to his knees in front of me. He looked blissed out, his eyes glazed over, a sated smile on his face. I leaned back, letting my hips slide forward a bit, and slowly undid my board shorts. I pulled my hard-on out of my briefs and hissed at the contact. I was so turned on. I’d been in a state of semi-erection all fucking day, and this was going to border on painful.

Stuart looked up at me like he was starving, and in one movement, he licked me from base to tip and took me into his mouth.

I was never going to last long.

He pumped and sucked me, and the second he groaned around me, my orgasm dropped on me like a bomb. I came so hard, I almost blacked out. Ecstasy exploded deep in my belly and fired pleasure along every cell as he sucked me dry.

Fuuuuuuuck. He had one helluva talented mouth.

When he pulled off, he licked his lips victoriously, very much the cat who got the cream. “Well, it’s official,” he said, grabbing the bottle of tequila. “Lick, sip, suck is my new favourite game.”