Page 57 of Bitter Heat
Perfect? No. It wasglorious. Every bit of Kerry felt so full and satisfied.
Janus touched Kerry’s cheek, bent low and nuzzled him. “Let me kiss you,” he whispered. “Please.”
Kerry growled and quivered, his body convulsing in pleasure. “Yes, please.” It was strange to think they had only kissed on that day by the lake. He reached up to drag Janus down, both of them careful of Kerry’s belly, and he dissolved into the fierceness of Janus’s kiss. He squirmed and tensed; his cry of ecstasy swallowed by Janus’s mouth. His anus squeezed hard, and his cock spurted as he lost himself in a wave of sensual pleasure reminiscent of the orgasms of heat.
Janus fucked him thoroughly. Kerry came again and again, his legs shaking, and his hole gaping when Janus pulled out, cursing and determined to make it last. But nothing could last forever, and so eventually Janus came, too, his cock jolting in Kerry, filling him with cum.
In the aftermath, holding each other in Janus’s now wet bed, Kerry finally spoke. “I told you he could have had me for so much less. All it took was a peach, and here I was with my legs spread for you.”
“It took more than a peach,” Janus whispered. “It took gaining your trust. And that started on that first day, with Kiwi in your palm—and me mesmerized by your beautiful hair in the wind. The hurt in your eyes. The way you smell. I wanted you from the start but didn’t understand how to reach you.”
“You’ve got me right now,” Kerry whispered. “I’m not sure how long it can last. But for now, I’m all yours.”
Janus put his hand on Kerry’s stomach. “And his.”
Kerry pushed Janus’s hand away. “No, not yet. Just yours. Can you let me have that? Please?”
Janus nodded and pulled Kerry closer to him. He nuzzled his neck. “We’ll have to talk soon about him, though, and your plans.”
Kerry got the sense that Janus had some plans of his own, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment any further by asking about them. Instead, he just shrugged and whispered, “Put your fingers in me? Please? Help me?”
Janus growled softly, and soon Kerry was writhing pleasantly on three fingers pressed into his hole, and then a fourth, and finally there came a scary stretch for Janus’s thumb. When Kerry woke that morning, he hadn’t imagined his evening ending with Janus’s hand inside him. And yet by the time the moon fully rose up above the trees, Janus had him spread wide on his bed, impaled on his fist and caught in a lovely loop of keen ecstasy followed by the even keener release of coming.
Janus, for his part, was clearly enthralled and shoved aside all discussion of the future, the baby, theplanin pursuit of pleasure. It was a scary place for Kerry to let himself be. Trusting in Janus was easier than it should be, riding his fist was deliciously easy, too, but forgiving himself enough to let go and enjoy it was hard.
With greedy determination, he carved himself free of the guilt and the fear, allowing himself to wallow in Janus’s scent and caretaking. He was safe for now.
It was scary as wolf’s own hell to allow any of this ecstasy for even a moment. Terrifying to let down his shields and let himself feel good. But for Janus’s sake, for the joy of seeing Janus so entranced, he did it.
No, not for Janus—forhimself.
PART THREE
Late Summer
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kerry hummed softlyas his knitting needles clicked a rapid tattoo. His stomach was growing rounder as the days grew longer, and the child was often an active little dancer in his womb. The labor still loomed ahead, as did the scariest and most dangerous part of pregnancy, but he was feeling more like his old self than he had in years.
Janus was going to meet him for a picnic by the shore of the lake once he was through with his work with Dr. Crescent, and they were going to engage in their private pleasures that night in Janus’s bed. Over the last few weeks, Kerry had given up fighting their draw to one another, and instead spent most of his days fantasizing about the hours he spent safe and naked by Janus’s side. If he had to suffer under the tyranny of Wilbet and the Monhundys’ desires, not to mention giving birth to this monstrous child, he’d take what pleasure he could from Janus. He’d hold it tight in both hands for as long as he could manage.
Sex wasn’t the only thing happening between them, though. Even Kerry couldn’t deny that his attachment to Janus was growing outside the bedroom, too. He enjoyed the small attentions Janus offered, like finding fresh fruit on his pillow every morning after his shower or a handful of sweet-smelling flowers Janus found on his walk to a patient’s house. Or the small gifts of pretty rocks Janus collected by the lake during his afternoon swim. Or a copied-out poem written in Janus’s firm hand and pinned like a blessing to one of Kerry’s shirts hung on the line to dry. Nothing extravagant, nothing that required maintenance from Kerry, or even a response of his own. Just constant little reminders that Janus cared for him. It was intoxicating and addictive.
Along with the little clothes Kerry had resigned himself to making for the baby, he was also knitting a scarf for Janus. It would be warm and ready for him by the time winter descended on the mountain. Kerry wouldn’t be there any longer to make sure he wore it, of course, since he’d be in the city chestfeeding the baby by then, but he hoped Janus would feel his gratitude and affection every time he wrapped it around his throat.
A knock sounded on the side of the house, and Kerry jerked, looking up from the small sweater he was knitting for the baby. While he had no doubt the Monhundys would buy the child the most fashionable of baby clothes in the city, he didn’t want the little thing naked in the meantime. The babe might be a monster’s child, but he’d still be a vulnerable little infant, with fresh new flesh and tender skin. So, the thread Kerry used was exceedingly soft to be gentle against him.
“Just a moment,” he called out. “I’ll be right with you.” Coming to an end of the row, Kerry looked up to find Rodes the postman had come around the corner of the porch with an envelope in his outstretched hand.
“Sorry to disturb ya. Letter for the new doc,” Rodes said, meaning Janus. “The seal is broken, Mr. Monkburn, but I swear it t’weren’t me that done it. Arrived in my satchel that way.”
Kerry motioned Rodes forward and took the creamy, thick envelope from his stubby fingers. “I believe you. There’s a peach tart cooling on the counter in the kitchen for payment. Sorry, I don’t have coin. My pater has gone down to the bank in Blumzound today, though. I promise we’ll have something more for you on your next visit.”
Rodes was happy enough with the peach tart, though, because everyone loved Pater’s baking. Whistling, he went on his way. Kerry started to pick up his knitting again, but as he did so, he fumbled the envelope. With the seal broken, the letter came loose, falling to the boards of the porch floor, along with a photograph. Kerry picked the items up, sliding the multi-page note back into the creamy, white envelope, intending to do the same with the picture, but instead, he sat arrested by the image.
It showed an ethereally beautiful man with blond, chin-length hair and features like an angel. He directed his glorious smile toward the infant in the picture with him. Newly born, it was all tiny and wrinkled, and the little thing was screaming with good health. Kerry swallowed hard, a strange feeling settling over him. He put a hand on his swelling stomach and flipped the photograph over.
In fluid handwriting, it read:Bekhem Riggs Heelies, four hours old.
