The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  Stretching, he pulled his arms up and shook them out. Brad pushed the thoughts away as he used the free weights. Furrows deepened as his brows drew together as he concentrated on his form. Brad worked until his muscles burned and were slick with sweat.

  All the while, Brad listened to music as it pumped out of the speakers, counting, repeating, heart pounding as he grunted. He pushed till his arms trembled, stopping only to guzzle water, cooling his parched throat. Pushing the wet hair out of his eyes, he moved toward the treadmill, setting it for hill climbing. Stepping on, he lost himself in the rhythm.

  Brad’s eyes stared at the wall of glass, unable to see because the darkness had descended. Though he didn’t need the light to know the sea would be thrashing at the base of the cliff. The wind was strong tonight, whistling through the branches, making them scrape against the glass. They tossed and battered around at its will. Brad empathised as he felt the same way about his thoughts as they battered his weary brain.

  Brad made a concerted effort to try to shake of his thoughts. He pushed harder, trying to outrun them. He gasped as he ran uphill. His T-shirt stuck to his body, and sweat dripped onto the collar as he continued to push.

  Brad collapsed onto the floor several minutes later, panting. He could feel the heaviness in his jelly-like legs. He turned his head when he heard the scraping of nails on the floor, unsure how long she had been there. He watched Princess’s paw moving against the wood as if trying to attract his attention.

  Struggling to sit up when his arms ached, Brad winced, rolling onto his knees, hoping that he would be able to stand. He smeared his sweat all over the wood floors. Oh crap!

  “Okay, I think it’s shower time. I’m a bit of a mess.” He felt the moisture slid down his face it dripping onto the floor, barely missing Princess as he staggered past her on shaking legs. Her quick jump back had the corners of Brad’s mouth twitch, but he knew better than to smile.

  “Come on, let’s get clean. I think I may just have worn myself out enough to get some sleep.”

  Sighing, he prayed that his now empty mind would stay that way.

  Martin

  Martin blinked awake when the morning light bathed his room in a soft glow. His mind still clung onto vague memories of soft, satiny smooth skin rubbing against his own and wet, pouty lips. The constriction of his boxers hinted to where his thoughts had spent the night. As he moved, the slide of soft cotton against his oversensitive cock brought him to the brink, making him gasp. Hell, he was at it again, reacting like a teenager.

  His need like a vice squeezing tight made the urge to rush impossible to control. Martin fumbled, trying to ring the base of his cock in an attempt to stem the need to come. The sound of laboured breathing filled the room as he struggled to gain control. His racing heart pounded against his ribs, making his hands tremble. Clumsy fingers shook as they pushed his boxers down his legs. He calculated if he could reach for his lube and toys. His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting. His hole pulsed, feeling empty.

  The aching had his hand already reaching for what his body wanted. Distracted, he hastily yanked open the drawer, making items fall. The loud clatter startled him.

  “Shit.” He just wanted to come. His fingers ringed the base of his cock tighter until the pain registered, making his balls throb. He breathed a little easier as the urge died down a fraction.

  He quickly grabbed what he wanted, ignoring the rest, and let the lube and dildo fall on the bed. He tried to concentrate on breathing deeply, but the smell of his lust seeping into his senses only made him impatient.

  As he licked his hand, the need to touch his cock rode him hard. His desperation eased slightly as his slicked hand glided up the smooth, satin skin. He groaned in delight. Air backed up into his lungs, leaving him breathless. His raging need took hold. His body heated, and he could see the moisture glistening on his chest.

  Martin brought up images of Brad on his knees, pale blond hair haloing his angelic face. The innocence warred with what he wanted Brad to do with his delicious mouth. He let Brad’s eyes draw him in like a tropical storm, both beautiful and alluring, making Martin want to ignore the danger and dive right in. His thoughts enflamed Martin’s desire as he conjured more.

  He knew Brad would move slowly. Martin was captivated by ripe, peach lips opening, letting a pale pink tongue sneak out. It would lap his slit, seeking the spilt treasure. Brad’s stubble would chafe as he nuzzled against Martin’s thighs. His sensuous movements teasing as he rocked back and forth. Brad would tantalise him before wet heat would engulf his cock. Firm lips would clasp, drawing him further into the heat, making Martin’s mind reel from the suction.

  He could literally fell Brad tightening his mouth around the head of his cock. Groaning, Martin stroked faster, trying to take the edge off, unable to stop the restlessness. He thrashed against the brushed cotton underneath him, barely feeling it warm. He wished that it was Brad’s skin under him and not just a fantasy as his hands tugged on his cock faster.

  Martin embraced his fantasy, letting it take shape.

  Brad’s pale pink tongue lapped his feverish skin, punishing him with pleasure. Desperate, ragged breaths shuddered past Martin’s lips as his body quaked as he lost himself in the imagery.

  Withering, his arm connected with the small dildo. With flailing hands, he grabbed for it. His cock pulsed in anticipation of what was to come. Air whispered erotically against his sensitised skin.

  Martin felt his body rebelling as he stopped to pour slick over the dildo. His hips pulsed. His body gyrated, searching for more. He growled in frustration as lube spilt out so fast it soaked his shaking hands.

  “Fuck it.” Throwing the lube on the bed, he bent his legs, opening himself, his need overriding everything. His head pounded, and breathy moans were the only sound in the room. He growled when he pushed the dildo down between his legs. His muscles quivered as the coldness of the lube touched his hot hole. It awakened the nerve endings, making them quiver with pleasure. His body shivered in anticipation. Everything inside him urged to push in hard and go against his better judgement. Arse play for him was a long, distant memory.

  Martin tried to calm his breathing so he could relax enough so the pain would be minimal. Pain was not the objective this morning. Slowly he pushed the dildo in. He felt the slight burn as he opened. His barely leashed control had him grunting.

  Wheezing, he pushed it in inch by inch as sensations exploded, inflaming his body. His other slicked hand moved automatically to tease his balls. Pulling on them gently, Martin pushed the dildo as far as it would go. His breath whooshed out as the urge to come flooded back with a vengeance. The connection with his prostate had sparks lighting up his body. Pre-cum leaked in abundance down his jerking cock, pooling on Martin’s stomach.

  Bringing back thoughts of Brad’s mouth, he envisioned the moist tongue meandering across his belly. His hot breath warmed his skin. Martin wanted the sharp contrast to the cold dildo. His senses overwhelmed with his thoughts. It was the final straw breaking the camel’s back. Martin’s balls rose hard, almost disappearing into his body. He winced, but he didn’t stop. His untouched cock exploded. It throbbed against his stomach as cum pelted his body. It forced its way up his chest, eventually hitting his chin.

  Harsh breaths hissed past his lips, the languid numbness overtaking his shock.

  What the hell? He’d come hands-free. His mind was a sticky mess just like his chest. Little aftershocks rocked through him. His body and mind vibrated, attempting to adjust to this new phenomenon.

  Martin’s thoughts were as erratic as his pounding heart, which was trying to escape from his chest. The force of the feelings swamped him. Martin fought the urge to panic. He pushed at his sweaty hair. It took a second before reality hit.

  “Eww, fucking hell.” He’d wiped lube over his forehead! Scrabbling, he jumped up on shaky legs. Locking his knees, he walked stiffly as he tried not to drip cum onto the carpet while heading to the bathroom. His laugh
ter boomed when he caught sight of himself. The sparkling mirth that glistened back at him seemed only fitting when you considered his fringe was standing bolt upright. He looked like Cameron Diaz in Something about Mary.

  He chuckled as he moved to get in the shower. He was a bloody mess. He was convinced Brad wouldn’t think him attractive just about now. Not! Amused at his thoughts, he caught sight of the clock. “Bollocks.” He was going to be late for his first meeting if he didn’t get a move on. Hastily he washed, making sure he was clean, though he was unable to resist a small taste as he captured the last bit from his chin. Salty bitterness hit his tongue, igniting his previous need to share with Brad.

  Fuck, not again. Quaking, Martin drew in a deep, steamy breath. His needs pushed their way forward. All he could see was Brad covered in his cum and his hands rubbing it in. The urge to show his ownership and mark Brad with his scent, became a primal need that invaded his mind. The following wracking shivers had nerves springing painfully to life as his erection grew. Waving like a divining rod, it knew there was buried treasure inside Brad that it wanted.

  Holy Christ. He moaned while he let his wet hand wander across his heated skin towards his budding nipples. The gold bars glowed against his pebbling brown nipples. His body glowed as water slid down. It felt like wet fingers stroking him. The resulting goosebumps made him shiver. The time forgotten, he tugged at the little gold bars, the pinch of pain travelling down to his pulsing cock.

  Martin leaned against the wet tiles, his body shaking. Balancing, he steadied his rocky legs by bracing himself against the wall. The slide of cold tiles against his skin was a stark contrast to his heated body. Martin shuddered at the sensations. They reminded him of Brad’s silky, smooth skin sliding across his rough palm.

  Thirsty for more, Martin needed friction on his cock. He grabbed the shower gel, poured some on his palm and lathered up. He slid soapy fingers back to his left nipple, teasing the bud. He became absorbed in the task, and the feel of his slickened fingers sent his mind spiralling out of control. As he got lost in the sensations, the water almost felt too much as it caressed his skin like a million tiny tongues, sending his body into overdrive. He careened dizzily into his second orgasm. Like a fast-moving train it derailed him, hurtling him forward, leaving him no choice but to go with it. He locked his knees as his hips surged forward. His hand was a blur as Brad’s face materialised, eyes begging, pleading, his lips open, waiting for Martin to claim him.

  Too far gone, he bowed his legs as cum jettisoned across the tiles. Wheezing, he was unable to hold himself up any longer, and his body slithered down the tiles. Martin gasped for air, unsure whether the steam in the room had been created by him or the hot water.

  Martin shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. Fuck, he’d not come like that for years. Now twice in the space of what? A quick glance at the clock told him minutes. Christ. He could almost feel proud. Although he didn’t have time as he was now really running late.

  Muttering, he got up, swaying unsteadily.

  “Shit.” He needed to clean up again. Huffing, he pulled his thoughts together with effort. His skin sang from the light contact. Overstimulated, he could feel the heat rise. Nope. He shook his head. It was not going to happen. His balls ached, even if his wayward thoughts of Brad infringed on his good intentions. He chuckled. At this rate he would turn into a nympho.

  “Work. Focus!” Chastising himself, he tried repeatedly chanting.

  When that failed, he brought up the picture of his first client. A slightly overweight man in his fifties, Mr Walker, had the ridiculous comb-over that would challenge even the baldy man. The urge to snip the hair right off his head had made Martin’s hands itch to open his desk drawer, pull out the scissors and just do it. The devil in him would have loved to do it.

  What made it worse was that Mr Walker brushed at it repeatedly. As if he was making sure it hadn’t moved throughout their meeting, causing Martin’s eyes to be drawn almost against his will. He’d lost focus twice, having to pinch his leg to stop himself from saying something.

  Martin was grateful the memory was enough to distract him enough to be dressed and out the door within ten minutes. Connecting his Bluetooth, Martin dialled from his steering wheel, praying Emma was on time.

  “Mr Clegg’s office, how can I assist you this morning?” Her nasal tone grated on his nerves. His hands clutched the wheel a little harder than necessary.

  “Emma, its Martin. I am running about twenty minutes behind schedule this morning. Mr Walker will be there,” he glanced at the dash, “I should think in the next ten minutes. Please, can you ensure there are no issues until I get there? Coffee, tea, whatever. Settle him in the boardroom, make sure he has the contract that’s on my desk to go over. It will save time. Apologise and tell him I got stuck in traffic.

  A heavy sigh was his only response. Clenching his teeth, Martin took a deep breath. She sure was ruining his morning buzz.

  “Is there a problem, Emma?” The question sounded sharper that he intended. Concentrating on merging with the traffic, he missed the first part, only catching “hair disaster.”

  “Pardon, what did you say?” Martin barely smothered his exasperated chuckle at her next words.

  “Well, you see. I hate having to spend any time with Mr Walker. If he nods his head, which he does all the time, his hair flops all over the place. His hair seems to have a mind of its own, wandering away from the area he wants it to cover. A complete hair disaster. But the last time I couldn’t stop the giggles. I snorted coffee halfway across the table. I am sure he realised I was laughing at him. I looked like a Belisha beacon by the time he had finished talking and moving.”

  She’d lost him halfway through. Her wittering grated, but he got the gist. Grinding his teeth, he tapped his fingers impatiently as Emma got to the point.

  “I know it’s my job, but I would hate to lose you the contract. I am sure Louise could keep a straight face.”

  Her simpering did nothing for him. He’d also bet anything she was fluttering her eyelashes at the phone. Hearing her breathing increase as if preparing to start again, Martin interrupted Emma’s tirade.

  “For God’s sake, just get someone to see to him. Let him know I will get there as soon as I can.” The click was abrupt, ending the call. His mood plummeted at seeing the traffic. He yanked the steering wheel, accelerating past several cars on the Cronk-y-Voddy straight, swerving in at the end. Hope ever eternal he wouldn’t be too late. Sighing half-heartedly, he prayed he would get to work before Emma did too much damage.

  Having gained fifteen new employees when he’d bought the company. Martin was taking his time to assess their abilities, knowing not all of them would either want to stay or fit with his work ethos. But he was willing to give them a chance to prove themselves, and for him this was the key to any good business. Letting the dust settle before making any concrete decisions.

  Emma, on the other hand, didn’t seem to grasp that she had been treading a thin line. Loud and obnoxious, she attempted to flirt her way out of work. Though he sometimes dated women, Emma’s brashness turned him off. Her constant whining rather than getting on with the job at hand drove him to distraction. The first week his jaw ached, along with his fingers, from repeated clenching.

  Now two weeks later, he couldn’t figure out how he had managed to curb the need to throttle her. But one thing was clear. She had two more weeks to shape up or ship out, and aggressive flirting was not going to change a thing. His preference had always been towards more submissive partners. Brad’s face drifted into his mind. Now there is a natural-born submissive.

  Martin had spent all night going over his reactions, obsessing over every touch, every look. The internal click, the feeling of knowing that had passed between them. Assured Brad had felt it too, but the fear he’d witnessed that was swiftly followed by resignation, had given him pause. He was unsure what they’d meant. When Brad had shuttered his emotions after that strong connection, it
worried him.

  Sucking his lip, he wondered who had caused Brad to fear a locked door. It spoke volumes, telling him that he needed to be careful. Martin knew he could rush in like a bull in a china shop, hoping he didn’t break anything in the process. But watching him run like a scared rabbit, hightailing across the road before Martin had time to blink, further enforced his need to be careful.

  He chuckled. His mouth curved, and his eyes brightened with mischief. Having recalled Brad’s conversation about the side gate, Martin had purposefully taken a padlock out of his collection and locked it. Brad would be disappointed if he came to get his little pussycat, hoping to use that gate.

  Martin felt he and the little pussycat were going to be firm friends. There was just something about that little feline that settled him, giving him hope it was only the beginning with Brad. He whistled at the thought. The tuneless sound filled the car, blending with the radio.

  Cheerful at the prospect, he arrived only ten minutes late. Rushing through the office, he caught sight of the back of Louise’s head. It bobbed hypnotically, causing him to stop mid-stride. The blonde hair reminiscent of Brad’s glowed like spun gold. The curls, not as loose as Brad’s, moved around her head, bringing back his morning fantasy to stark reality. As heat crawled up his neck, his pants tightened in appreciation.

  Glancing down, he cast his eyes around to make sure his erection wasn’t noticeable. He hurried into his office. “Shit, shit, shit.” Martin paced in front of the door, willing his erection away. He was mortified. The last thing he wanted was for any of them to assume he got it from one of them, especially Emma. He took a shuddering breath. His dick wilted at the very repulsing thought.

  Thankful, Martin checked his desk for the file he needed. Snatching it, he marched out of the room, focusing on the meeting with Mr Walker.

  Thoughts of Brad were temporarily parked for later.