The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  The awkwardness Brad was exhibiting made Martin think he was maybe a little socially inept. Hell, he couldn’t talk standing there gawking and acting like a hormonal teenager. Who was Martin to judge?

  Though he was pretty sure Brad was unaware of how much he was giving away, his cues were easy to read. Brad’s needy expression and vibrating body made Martin’s body throb with need. Holding back was harder than anything he’d ever done. He’d wager Brad lacked experience. You couldn’t fake that air of innocence. Nervousness rolled off him, dragging his hands repeatedly up and down the side of his jeans. The urge to reduce Brad’s turmoil compelled him to move back, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Taking control, he motioned for Brad to pass him, inviting him in.

  “Come on in. You are more than welcome to have a look for your pussycat. Let’s hope she is here and not lost.”

  Martin suspected the eyes he had seen in the garden belonged to Brad’s cat.

  Charmed by the sway of his mesmerising hips, Martin quickly glanced away before he got caught staring. Locking the door as he turned around, he rushed towards the paralysed body in front of him. Brad’s pallor was grey under the lights. His huge eyes engulfed his face, looking like a trapped animal. Martin could see his pulse hammering at his throat. Brad’s irregular breathing sounded obscenely loud in the quiet. What the hell had happened to him to create such fearful reactions?

  Shit, crap. He wanted to touch but was not sure either of them was ready for it again. Their eyes clashed. “You’re safe here. I won’t hurt you. You can trust me, Brad.” His husky words did little to remove the frightened look. With clenching gut, thinking about what had caused such a reaction, he headed back to the door. Exaggerating his movements, he unlocked it. Purposefully, Martin stepped back from the now unlocked door, not making a big deal of it as Brad’s eyes followed him the entire time.

  Heat scorched Martin from the unrestrained stare. He ignored the urge to touch, not sure he could be gentle right at the moment. His mind clashed with his body’s needs. Brad wasn’t anywhere near ready for what Martin wanted. Raking his hands through his hair and sighing in frustration, Martin led the way into the kitchen.

  He was encouraged when Brad followed without further prompting.

  Martin searched for something to say to break the tension he felt sparking the air between them.

  “Have you been in the house before? Or is it just your pussycat that liked to visit? Do you know the way to go get your cat?” Martin’s brows rose. Pausing, he turned, convinced he’d heard Brad speak.

  “What’s not good?” Martin struggled to catch up. Had Brad spoken? The blank expression on Brad’s face had him questioning if he was hearing things now on top of everything else.

  He watched Brad’s face turn a lovely shade of scarlet before he ducked down, his hair flopping over his cheeks, mumbling.

  “I am sorry about this, me wasting your time.” Brad gave him an apologetic smile as he lifted his head, not making eye contact. “Err, in answer to your earlier question. No, I haven’t been in the house. I used to just go through the side gate. But as we hadn’t met, I felt that it would be rude to just wander into your garden uninvited.”

  Martin watched him dither in the doorway, sucking his full, juicy lower lip into his mouth. Inhaling, Martin was bombarded with images of those plump, slick, puffy lips sucking his cock. Aware his joggers now were two sizes too small in the front, he moved his body to the side, hoping Brad hadn’t noticed his bucking bronco cock.

  Hell, what was with his body tonight? He’d never suffered like this, even when he was a teenager.

  “Is there a problem?” The worried tone made him realise he stopped in the doorway, blocking Brad’s path.

  “Nope.” Stealing a breath, he invited, “Come on through. The patio door isn’t locked, so you can go straight out.”

  He almost pushed Brad towards the door. Martin needed a minute to get himself under control. The second Brad escaped out the door, he readjusted his cock. Relief was short lived as it strained to escape, heat pulsing under his fingers. The urge to pull his cock out and stroke it became unbearable as Brad moved. His hips swaying sexily. The audacity of his backside screamed for a hard pounding. His hand moved without thought, increasing the speed as he imagined the heat, the tightness, the squeeze so good, pounding through that tight ring of muscle.

  He locked his knees when his legs wanted to shake. Heat pulsed into his balls as they hugged his body. He gasped as the need to come rushed violently into his sac. Pain had his cock steel hard. He was a hair’s breadth away from coming as reality slammed into him, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his mind.

  Fuck, he was wanking in front of the kitchen window. Disbelief had him jamming his cock back into his pants. What the fuck? He was struggling to come down. What was that? What if Brad had come back and caught him? He was acting like a bloody pervert. “Shit, shit, shit,” muttered Martin as he stalked away from the window.

  He willed his cock to deflate. Thinking about the most disgusting things he could. He remembered the smell of warm rotting garbage cans in America did the trick. The intense summer heat had made the smell of rotting vegetables rise, choking, burning your nose. He was relieved when his cock started to deflate.

  A shuffling sound behind him alerted him to Brad’s return. Avoiding looking at him directly, he focused on the tiny bundle in his arms. The cat appeared as small as Brad, and from what he could see, there wasn’t a tail. He looked closer. What the hell had happened?

  Concern clouded his eyes as he looked at Brad. “What happened to your cat? Was there an accident that cut the tail off?” He stepped forward as he spoke, his lust forgotten over his distress. He loved animals. Wanting to stroke, he held his hand out for the cat to sniff and waited for permission to touch.

  Bright, intelligent blue eyes gleamed back. The little black head pushed against his palm.

  Quiet chuckles met his ears. “No, she is a Manx cat; they don’t have tails. They are native to the island. I’m not sure if they have this breed anywhere else in the world.”

  The screech that filled the kitchen had Martin snatch back his hand, alarmed at the almost human sound. Brad’s laughter rocked through Martin. The laugh unleashed Brad’s dimples. They winked to life. Martin’s gaze zoomed to Brad. Oh my God, dimples. He fucking loved dimples. How adorable. Wanting to lick those little grooves, Martin moved back, not trusting that he wouldn’t do precisely that.

  Shit, all his good work gone. His cock decided the party was back on again. Martin stepped back from danger. This was getting ridiculous.

  Brad

  Cradling Princess, Brad was so used to her behaviour didn’t even flinch when she screeched. No, he was more concerned with the heated stare that was raking his body. Chatting nervously, he said, “Loud is Princess’s middle name.” He laughed to disguise his distress. Rubbing Princess’s back, he carried on gibbering.

  “Princess can sound so human-like at times. It took me a while to adjust to it. I spent half my time looking for someone else, thinking a person had gotten into my house. Princess likes to let you know when she’s not happy about something.” Brad nuzzled his face into her furry neck, the lingering zesty smell of the cat shampoo reassuring. The soft fur tickled his nose, and Brad felt the sneeze a second before it erupted out. “Eeesseeww.” Heat seeped up his neck. Oh my God. Mortified, he clutched Princess in one hand, rubbing his face with the other, unable to meet Martin’s stare. He felt like a buffoon. Sure, he’d just snotted over Princess and Martin.

  Moving towards the front door and waving a hand at Martin, he mumbled, “goodbye.” He made his escape, not giving Martin a chance to respond. Humiliation had his legs pumping as he all but ran home.

  Brad entered the house, slamming the door and locking it with more force than necessary. His body vibrated. “Crap, crap, crap.” Pacing, he glared down at Princess with accusing eyes.

  “Why do I feel this is your entire f
ault?” His words rang shrilly. His hands flapped as he dropped Princess to the ground. He struggled to get his words out as temper took over.

  He stabbed his finger at Princess. “I told you not to go over there. You know that Maribelle no longer lives in that house.” Brad rammed his hands into his hair, pulling the strands as his frustration built. He stalked to the chair, sitting for all of three seconds before jumping back up. He paced in front of the front door as his mind dithered. Should he go back and apologise? He wanted to go back.

  No, no, he didn’t. Snatching his hands back from the door handle as if it had burned, he pushed them into his jean pockets. They couldn’t get him into trouble in there. But that only seemed to highlight his painful arousal as his jeans tightened further.

  Hell, he’d spent so much time trying to hide it from Martin that he was convinced his hoodie now looked like a sweater dress. He sighed. What was he going to do about his cock? He looked at his straining trousers. No, no, he wasn’t going back. No matter how much his body liked that idea.

  Christ, he would probably do something equally as mortifying, though he couldn’t think of anything worse than sneezing on someone right at this moment. Rubbing his face, he could still feel the heat. He was sure you could see him from the new space station. He was glowing that brightly.

  The dramatic huffing had Princess chuckling as she watched Brad tug off his hoodie, throwing it at the chair he’d vacated. Brad’s genuine hurt had her scrunching her tiny shoulders. The guilt at his words weighed heavily.

  “I was worried about you. Not that you appear in the least bit bothered.”

  Princess lifted her head as she felt the heat of his stare. She needed to remember that he needed this. Feeling mischievous, she glided gracefully into the kitchen as shouting followed her.

  “I am not feeding you. You can forget it.”

  Princess laid it on thick, ensuring the guilt trip would have Brad eating out of her paws. She turned her beseeching eyes towards him. She knew she’d won when he glowered back.

  “Don’t you look at me like that!” Brad stalked after Princess, knowing he had no defence against that look. He was a total sap. Brad cursed up a storm when the cupboard door swung open at speed, knocking into his leg. Hopping around on one leg, he glared at the offending door, not acknowledging his temper had caused the injury. His cock wilted, the pain overriding everything else. Brad hobbled to the kitchen chair trying to hold in the unshed tears, when his emotions rocketed through him. He felt out of sorts, and not just because his leg hurt. He rubbed it absently. What was happening to him?

  Princess jumped up into his lap and curled into a ball. Her body rumbled, making her sound louder than an engine revving. The noise filled the air and caused a wet chuckle to escape past Brad’s obvious misery.

  Brad loved how loud his Princess’s purr was at times. He was sure it could be used as an alarm system. He cuddled her closer, taking pleasure in the familiarity. “You would make a great deterrent, better than any guard dog, with the noise you make.” Princess’s answering growl and swipe at his hand was a warning. Brad couldn’t help the giggle bubbling up.

  He watched her as she jumped off his lap. Kicking her backside up in the air, she stalked to her cushion in the corner. The kiss-my-arse move was not lost on Brad. The move was so human it made him often forget she wasn’t.

  Brad hobbled to the cupboard. His early concerns were forgotten as he thought about feeding Little Miss Naughty. It was infuriating how she always got her way. Didn’t make a damn bit of difference how many arguments she started, she always won. A heartfelt sigh escaped him. Princess’s quick glance and almost human sneer made it hard to resist the threat that rose up.

  A common theme had developed between them after he’d learned of the cat sanctuary that took in abandoned cats. “I can always take you to the cat sanctuary.” Brad waited for a beat. He watched Princess pick herself up with what appeared to be a great effort. She strolled back towards him, jumped high, and dug her nails into his T-shirt to hold on to him. A wet tongue rasped up his neck. “Eww, stop that.” Sternness was lost as he choked back the laughter. “Be careful, or I will be dragging you upstairs for a bath.”

  Princess’s bodt shuddered as if remembering the last time. Hate wasn’t quite strong enough to cover how she reacted to bath time. She pushed her head against his neck, and using her fur like a towel, she wiped Brad’s neck dry.

  Brad pulled back. His skin was buzzing from the stimulation. “Come on, work beckons. You’ve interrupted enough with your naughtiness. Daddy has bills to pay.” Absently checking his neck, Brad dropped Princess back to the floor, not missing the flounce in her step. “I can play later. You know I have a deadline to meet by Friday, and as that’s only two days away, I have to focus. So be nice. You’ve lost me enough time tonight.”

  Distracted he jerked at Princess’s mewl that followed him. With an eye roll he shouted, “I won’t be long, so stop moaning.”

  Fuck, he’d not saved the work from earlier. He felt a little overwhelmed to be so far behind with this project. He’d achieved very little since Sunday, finding himself daydreaming about McHottie. No, it was Martin. The name suited him. Maybe not as much as McHottie, but he liked it.

  Brad caught sight of the pad he’d been doodling on, reminding himself of what had taken him to Martin’s in the first place.

  The day had been a total bust. There were several times he’d absently been drawing McHottie’s face on his pad, followed with little hearts. Grunting at his own behaviour, he realised he’d gone off on another tangent. He started talking to himself, “Oh my God what the hell is wrong with me?” He’d looked around, half expecting to see Princess on her cushion giving him one of her looks. It was so unlike her not to be there. Concern had him checking the house. When he didn’t find her there, fear had propelled him across the road. It was the only obvious place she would have gone.

  He was ashamed to admit it had taken several minutes of pacing before his clumsy hands had been able to open his own front door. His courage nearly failed him when he couldn’t even knock on Martin’s door. His hand coiled back twice as if the door would take a bite out of him. He’d cowered outside the door until he’d realised his fear was silly.

  Brad wasn’t so sure his fear was unfounded now. The fierce expression Martin wore as he opened the door gripped him by the throat. Up close, he was breathtaking, but the glare was frightening. The words simply died. He was unable to get past the lump in his throat. It made him jump back automatically from the anger.

  The intense dark blue eyes felt like they raked his very soul. The touch somehow felt rejuvenating. It made Brad feel giddy. Elation pumped through his body, creating warmth. It seemed to burn away the years of cold, stripping him bare. Feeling confused, Brad struggled to cope with his warring thoughts. The fire coursing through his body made it came to life in a way he was not used to. The speed of his erection made him dizzy as the blood pooled in his lap. Brad was grateful for the cool air caressing his skin. It was a welcome relief from the sizzling sparks he could feel inside him.

  Martin’s body heat had made him crave contact, even though he knew it might burn. Like a toddler told not to touch, Brad ignored all the warnings anyway. The warm rough skin had melted his insides like heated butter. He’d been surprised his hand wasn’t slippery when he pulled it back.

  Having a need to gain some perspective, he’d stepped back. But why the hell had he allowed a second touch was beyond him. All it did was reinforce his lack of control. He could still feel the embarrassment when his body had misbehaved. His hips thrust against his will, seeking contact. Brad had to acknowledge now how shaken he’d been by his lack of control as he rubbed his face.

  Years of abuse had ensured he’d learned to control his body’s reactions, not wanting to give anything away that would make things worse. Then he met Martin, and boom it’s gone. Brad’s mouth pinched as his teeth gritted together. This was not good. He may not have experience, but
he knew what desire was. Martin wanted him. The fierceness of that scared him right down to the bone.

  Those bloody eyes had all but devoured him. A ripple of unease snaked down his back. His skin tightened, making the scars pull. Sighing, Brad faced reality. Martin may want the clothed version, but he sure as hell wouldn’t want the naked one.

  Dejected, Brad’s shoulders slumped as he dragged his feet under him, standing up. He shut down the computer. He wasn’t going to achieve anything else with the weight of his thoughts pressing on him. He’d been here before. His thoughts would drag him back down a path he didn’t want to go. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was too early for bed. And work wasn’t cutting it. His only other choices were a movie or exercise. Wanting to get out of his head, he went to get changed. Exercise it was.

  After he went into his room, Brad quickly changed. Trying not to think about his body, he avoided looking in the mirror. Brad went into the converted bedroom—too self-conscious to go to a public gym, he’d created his own. The therapist had explained endorphins where a natural antidepressant. Not sure in the beginning, but not wanting pills, he had gone with it. He had spent thousands on converting the room, but, in the end, it had been worth it.

  The exercise was something he could control, and it helped change his body. Strengthening it, it had reduced his feeling of vulnerability as well as helped with his mood. Doing what he always did, Brad ignored his back when he looked in the full-length mirrors.

  He tried to view his body objectively. Muscles, though not overtly large, rippled and flexed as he moved, showing hours of hard work. He’d managed to increase his body mass as initially he’d bordered on looking anorexic. His fear had eaten away at him. Though he was still lean, he now looked healthier, stronger. Something he’d lacked as a teenager.