Devil's Man by Kira Stone (Back to the book page.) All rights reserved. Copyright ©2005 Kira Stone Content Warning: Excerpt may contain homosexual (M/M) interaction, adult language and/or explicit sexual terms which may offend some readers. Carter was having trouble snapping out of his dazed state. Roman didn’t mind, as it allowed him further opportunity to explore this tasty human morsel. He toured Carter’s unadorned, naked flesh with both hands. He cupped Carter’s ass and squeezed, relishing the man’s reflexive thrust that brought their cocks in direct contact. “Virgin ass. Would you look at how pretty it is?” Petyr reached out to caress Carter’s butt. Roman felt a spurt of real jealousy. “Hands off, Pet. That’s mine. All mine.” “We’re supposed to be sharing him.” “I am. Right now, I get this half.” He gave Carter’s backside a slap. Carter jumped, the crown of his head striking Roman on the jaw. It didn’t hurt -- one of his prayers to Alma during the diving had alleviated most human vulnerabilities like pain -- but Carter couldn’t know that. “I’m so sorry,” the mortal apologized. “I got a little slap happy. Is that a problem?” Carter seemed to give it a few seconds of consideration before he answered. “Hey, do whatever would feel good to you, right?” Roman’s mind raced through a thousand scenarios guaranteed to feel good to both of them. Somehow, he’d have to find a way to make Carter stick around long enough to try them all. Like the next forty or fifty years. Hold up. Years? What was he thinking? A couple of months was his record, one he had no intention of breaking. Maybe the chlorine was getting to him after all. “Let’s get comfortable,” Petyr suggested. “Off or on?” Roman guided Carter’s questing lips back to his throat. “What are you talking about, Pet? Our clothes are already off.” “In your shower fantasy, Carter, is the water on or off?” The professor jerked in surprise. “How did you know about that?” “The look on your face when you spotted us said it all. Now do you want to answer the question or spend the rest of the morning listening to me brag about my awesome powers of observation?” Carter’s reply was prompt. “On. In the corner.” Roman approved. The spray would mix at right angles, about waist high, leaving them plenty of room to breathe without requiring gills. Petyr made the necessary adjustments while Roman guided Carter into position with a few nudges of his hip. “What now?” the satyr asked, appearing comfortable with his role of special effects coordinator for the moment. “Soap. All over.” Carter shivered. Not from a chill this time, Roman determined by the eager look on the professor’s face. Carter was finally starting to believe they wanted him. Why someone hadn’t grabbed him up sooner was a complete mystery to Roman. The professor had all the qualities humans usually lumped in the “FOR” column when choosing a potential partner. Good job, prime flesh, and an eagerness to please. He was a vessel waiting to be filled with carnal knowledge. He deserved to be cherished. Not by him, of course. However, as a surrogate lover and acolyte of affection, Roman would do his best to make sure Carter enjoyed this experience. “Fast forward through the suds. Tell us what comes next,” Petyr directed. Roman glared at his least favorite former relative. “Why? What do you have against soap?” “In theory, nothing. In practical application, the taste. Wash all you want with your hands. Just imagine the soap. I think we’ll be happier without the sudsy aftertaste.” “Good point.” Roman glanced down at the professor. “That work for you?” “When you kiss me, everything works.” Whoosh. Roman’s remaining shreds of professional detachment he’d been desperately clinging to went up in flames. He kissed Carter fiercely, possessively, putting everything he had into it until his head swam. He’d been with a wide variety of mortals during his time in Purgatory. Not one of them had caused his heart to stutter the way Carter had just now. Was this how love began, with emotional cardiac arrest? Roman desperately hoped not, but when he looked into Carter’s blue eyes, he couldn’t lie to himself. If this itchy, achy feeling wasn’t the first symptom of love, the kind he’d always considered a fairytale, then it was the closest thing to it. How was he going to purge the affliction from his system once Carter had moved on? Was he doomed to carry this strange unwanted feeling around with him for the rest of his existence? He’d worry about that later. Maybe by then this craving for the professor’s touch would have faded to something more reasonable. In the meantime, he had better things to do than dwell on future problems. “Carter, you’re calling the shots. Where do we go from here?” You can buy the book here.