Page 25 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)

By the third day, Zac and I fell into a familiar flow—early breakfast, packed ballroom, long hours of strategy talks and networking. But unlike before, when I’d felt like an outsider looking in, I was starting to feel like I actually belonged here. The endless jargon no longer blurred together, and I found myself jumping into conversations with ease, fielding questions, absorbing knowledge, watching the way Zac maneuvered deals like a master at work.

He had this way of making people feel like they wanted to impress him—like being in his good graces was a privilege. And yet, when he turned that razor-sharp focus on me, it wasn’t to intimidate, but to teach. I drank in every lesson he offered, learning not just the mechanics of negotiations but the unspoken rules, the instincts, the subtle power plays.

The hours passed fast. Before I knew it, the conference was drawing to a close, and with it, the weight of formality lifted. I was more than ready to be anywhere but a hotel ballroom at that point. The endless handshakes, corporate pleasantries, and intricate strategies had been fascinating to watch—and even more fascinating to take part in—but after three days of it, I was itching to unwind.

By the time we stepped into the elevator, I could feel the weight of the past three days settling over me—equal parts exhilaration and mental fatigue. Zac and I made our way back to his suite, the door clicking shut behind us, sealing us away from the outside world. He loosened his tie with a sigh, rolling his shoulders as he tossed his suit jacket over a chair, looking every inch a man finally free of obligation. He turned to me then. “Well? How do you feel after surviving your first business conference?”

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, toeing off my shoes with a groan. “Like my brain ran a marathon. But I actually enjoyed it. More than I expected, to be honest.”

Zac smirked, tugging at the top button of his shirt. “Told you it wasn’t a vacation.”

“It sure wasn’t,” I admitted, smiling back. “But it was also... I don’t know. Eye-opening. I’ve never seen that side of things before.” Watching Zac work, the way he handled people—it was like watching someone play a chess game where they already know every possible move. And yet, the way he played the game never felt ruthless. He didn’t just bulldoze his way to a win—he made people want to follow his lead. And I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to follow him too.

He looked pleased at that. “Business is about control. Anticipation. Knowing how to guide the board without your opponent realizing you’re doing it.” He walked over, stood in front of me, and looked at me from above. “But you didn’t just watch—you held your own in a few conversations.”

“I tried,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck, his crotch at my eye level. “Half the time I was worried I’d say something stupid.”

“You didn’t.” His hand landed under my chin, his thumb tracing an idle pattern over my lower lip. “You listen more than you speak. That’s good. People reveal more when they don’t think you’re a threat.”

I considered his words, thinking back to the past few days, to the way I’d absorbed every conversation, every deal Zac had navigated. I could already see the patterns, the way certain men postured while others held their cards close. I let my lips part around his thumb, teasing it with the barest scrape of my teeth, savoring the way his breath hitched. “Any other tips?” I asked, leaning into him and pressing my face against his growing bulge.

He hummed in thought, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “People like talking about themselves. If you want someone to do business with you, ask them about their success, their company, their ‘vision.’ Stroke their ego just enough to make them think you care, and they’ll be putty in your hands.”

I snorted, nosing at his fly. “So business is just high-stakes flirting?”

Zac gave a crooked grin. “Not far off.” His cock twitched against my cheek. “Though I prefer my flirting a little less subtle.”

I glanced at him from below. “Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”

His gaze darkened, the air shifting between us, heat sparking beneath the surface. I licked my lips, pulling down his zipper, ready to test just how unsubtle he could be—until my stomach growled, loud and insistent.

Zac blinked, then barked out a laugh. “Get up. I’m taking you somewhere to eat.”

“I could start with something protein-rich,” I murmured, reaching inside his fly.

“Later,” he said, batting off my hand, and I groaned, flopping onto my back across the bed. He peeled his shirt off to reveal his powerful hairy pecs. “Come on. Let’s get changed and grab some snacks before you pass out on me.”

We slipped into our casual wardrobe, ditching the formality of the past three days for shorts and tank tops, then headed downstairs to the hotel’s restaurant. We ordered light—fresh seafood, cold drinks, nothing heavy enough to weigh us down.

As we ate, Zac shared more business tips and investing strategies, grooming me for a future in Nova Systems as his right-hand man. The conference might have been over, but the effect of it still lingered on his ever-working mind, buzzing with ideas, plans, and projects. This was a man who’d gone against every jock stereotype—brilliant, driven, the kind of man who didn’t just climb to the top but built the ladder himself. It was awe-inspiring to see.

But as much as I admired that side of Zac, it was the unguarded moments I craved most. The side he showed when he teased me about my prosaic tastes, or when he smiled at me like I was the only person in the crowded room. Those were the moments that sent warmth curling through my chest, hinting at something unspoken between us, a deeper sense of connection that transcended just the physical. And in those moments, I could almost believe he felt the same way.

After we finished eating, Zac sat back in his chair, sipping the last of his drink. “Let’s enjoy our last day in Miami properly. Are you up for some adventure?”

I grinned. “Hell yes.”

His lips quirked. “Good. Because I know just the spot.”

* * *

I didn’t have to ask where we were going—he told me on the drive over. Haulover Beach.

The moment we stepped out of the cab, I felt like a kid on summer break. The air smelled of salt and sun-warmed sand, thick with the scent of coconut sunscreen and distant whiffs of grilled food from the vendors lining the lot. The ocean stretched endless and blue before us, its surface glittering under the afternoon sun. The rhythmic crash of waves, the distant call of seagulls, and the easy laughter of beachgoers all blended into a heady, intoxicating soundtrack of freedom. I kicked off my flip-flops and dug my toes into the hot sand, grinning at the sheer, unfiltered joy of it.

“This is amazing,” I breathed, tilting my face up to the sky, letting the warmth soak into my skin.

Zac smirked beside me, sunglasses shielding his eyes, his demeanor lazy and knowing. “Oh, just wait.”

He led me further down the shoreline, past sunbathers stretched on their towels, past families wrangling excited kids, until we reached the nude section. Still, we kept on walking, and soon the crowd began to shift. The rainbow parasols were the first giveaway. Then, the men—lounging bare-skinned, strolling along the water’s edge, tangled together on beach chairs, their laughter carefree. Some walked hand in hand, some kissed openly, some lay in each other’s arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because here, it was.

A lump rose in my throat, unexpected and overwhelming. I’d been out since my senior year of high school, had been to my share of gay clubs and sex-positive venues, but nothing had ever felt like this—this paradise where no one had to hide, where love between men wasn’t something whispered behind closed doors. It was all here, laid bare in the sun, open and unafraid.

I turned to Zac, trying to keep my voice light even as my chest clenched with emotion. “How did you know about this place? Been here before?”

He reached out, skimming his fingers through my hair, his touch lingering. “Not this part. But I’ve heard of it, and I figured now was as good a time as any to check it out.”

“Look,” I whispered, jerking my chin toward a guy only a few feet away. “That dude’s doing yoga poses.”

Zac followed my gaze, frowning. The man was bent forward in a deep stretch, ass high in the air, his skin glistening in the sun. Zac squinted. “Why is his butthole shiny?”

I grinned, still staring. “I think he’s got a piercing on his taint.”

We looked at each other and lost it, shoulders shaking as we tried to stifle our laughter. A few nearby men glanced at us, amused, but we quickly composed ourselves and found a spot to lay out our towels.

The moment our trunks hit the sand, we bolted for the turquoise water, crashing into the surf like kids set loose from school. Naked, laughing, exuberant. The ocean welcomed us with warm, crystal-clear waves, enveloping us in its weightless embrace. Zac pulled me deeper, his hands on my waist, guiding me effortlessly through the swell. Sunlight rippled beneath the surface, catching on his golden skin, and when he kissed me, the salt on his lips only made me want more.

I hardened in seconds. When my body pressed flush against his, I felt his cock, thick and insistent between us. Instead of drawing back, he pulled me closer, one arm tight around my back, the other drifting lower, teasing, possessive.

“People can see us,” I murmured against his mouth, breathless.

“I don’t care.” His voice was a low growl, rough with need, and the desperate edge in it sent a thrill straight through me.

Then his hand slid lower, a finger slipping inside, stretching me open. I sucked in a sharp breath, clinging to him, waves breaking around us as he rocked forward, his cock pushing in, filling me. My body tightened, fought to adjust, then surrendered, melting into the rhythm of the tide, the slow, relentless thrust of his hips. I let the ocean cradle me, let the world melt away until there was nothing left but him and me, and the salt-drenched taste of his mouth as he pulled me in for a kiss.

We were completely exposed, out in the open—anyone swimming by, anyone glancing from the beach, could guess what we were doing. We weren’t loud, but the movement of our bodies gave us away, our gasps swallowed by the crash of the surf. And that only made it hotter.

I wanted him. Here. Now. Everywhere. Always.

When he finally spilled inside me, raw and unrestrained, his mouth capturing mine as he shuddered against me, I felt it—joy deeper than pleasure, a sort of ecstasy only experienced by mystics and people in love. It was overwhelming, light as the ocean breeze, yet endless as the sky—and equally elusive. The feeling curled around my ribs and refused to let go. The waves lapped at our overheated skin, the sun casting its golden glow over the world, and for a moment, nothing else existed.

Zac gasped, too loud, his body jerking. At first, I thought it was just the intensity of release. But then he pulled back, his whole frame going rigid.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, dazed, still breathless.

“I’ve been stung by a fucking jellyfish,” he gritted, shoving me off him and bolting for the shore.

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, as La Isla Bonita played 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 gotten hard 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 a while, 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.

I should’ve known better. We had a plane to catch in only a matter of hours, and then we’d be back home. This moment was a fantasy, a dream too perfect to last.

And yet, for now, it was mine. Ours. Reality could wait.