Chapter 1

Taking the summer off before graduate school to do a sex tour of America turned out to be my best idea ever. After screwing an airline pilot, a gymnast, and a biker who rode one of those crotch-rocket Ninjas, my next target was a surfer. Oddly, the hunt brought me to Texas. I’d been told online gossip about a boy named Adriano who surfed Matagorda Bay during the week and gave up his gorgeous ass to different guys right there on the beach after sunset. From the photos I’d seen on a certain website, I absolutely wanted to be inside him. Correction: I needed to be.

I stood on a small scrubby dune overlooking the water. It was Wednesday, and I’d been told he usually was the only one out on a weekday morning. It had taken me a couple days to find the deserted beach he was said to frequent. Now I watched him through binoculars, making sure I had the right guy. Yep, there it was: A blue star tattooed on his lower back, just above the band of the board shorts that clung to hisass. His body reminded me of the tennis player, Rafael Nadal—ripped biceps and a firm, round rump that couldn’t help but jut out. My dick stiffened.

He inspected his upper arm a moment, and then he shouldered his board and waded to shore. Through binoculars, I saw him wave to me to come meet him on the beach. I hustled down the dune and waited for him. I found myself staring at his smooth, pumped chest and flat abs. Up close he looked about twenty.

“Hey, guy,” he said, “I think I got stung by a jellyfish. You don’t have any painkillers, do you? Or Benadryl?”

“Oh, gosh. Let me see.” I put my hands on his muscular, damp arm, but he pulled away.

“Dude, don’t touch it. If you get the venom on you, it’ll sting like a bitch.”

I examined his shoulder, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Until he brushed away my hands, I’d thought the jellyfish sting had been a ruse to get next to me. Now I wasn’t so sure.

“Uh, what’s good for that? Vinegar? I could go back to town and get you some. And Benadryl or whatever.”

“Would you? You’d totally be my hero.”

Oh, hello. “Yeah, rinse off your shoulder in the water and then sit tight.”

Twenty minutes later, I returned with vinegar, gauze, and everything but a nurse.

“Holy shit, I’m not dying,” he said when he saw the big paper sack of supplies.

“Just let me take care of you.” I spoke in the relaxing voice I used when I wanted a guy to give me control. God, I wanted him. He was about 5’8”—perfect since I like my bottoms to be a little shorter than me. Now that his hair was dry, I could see his dark curls fell to just above his shoulders.

His arm did have a small row of welts now. He winced as I dabbed vinegar-soaked cotton over them. He popped a Benadryl.

“I brought you a soda so you could take the pills, but I see you don’t need it.”

He grinned. Wow, what a beautiful smile.

“This’ll teach me not to wear a rash guard. I really appreciate your help.”

“No sweat, Adriano.”

He looked up, stunned. Oh, shit.

“How did you know my name?”

“Just…I guess…I recognized you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You did a search for gay sex and surfing and came up with a page for BlueStarSurfer.”

“Yeah, you caught me. That was it.”

“My goddamn ex put that up. Shit, the trouble he’s caused me.”

At least he continued to let me tape gauze to his shoulder instead of storming off. His skin was smooth, tan, and invitingly soft. So soft, in fact, I touched him more than I needed just to apply a bandage.

“So, no, I don’t let every guy that watches me surf fuck me at sunset.”

“Yeah, well, good…but I did think you were adorable in the photos,” I said. He’d been flirting up until he found out I knew his name. I had to salvage this.

“Thanks,” he said but his voice had gone cold. He didn’t look at me. “At least you’re honest about why you’re here. That’s a first.”

“Yeah, but I guess I’m still a sleazy ass-hound, huh?”

“True that. But you bandaged up my arm. That’s worth a kiss.”

He leaned over and put his lips on mine as a pleasurable, warm sensation rose from my stomach. It startled me because I almost never like kissing.

“But that’s all, ass-hound. I’m gonna walk home and get in bed before the Benadryl takes me down.” He blinked hair out of his beautiful brown eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Jerry.”

“Okay, Jerry. Thanks. See you around.” I watched him saunter away, his bouncing walk revealing the confidence of a young man who knew he was often desired. It was odd that I should think of him as “young.” Though I was only a couple years older, I felt ancient in comparison.