Manfred's Curse (MM)
An unsettling storm arrives in Conrad’s seaside town, turning his life upside down when his housecat shifts into a sexy man.
Manfred is used to being a cat -- and shifting to his human form whenever he wants -- until he crosses paths with a vindictive witch who curses him. He finds the man of his dream in Conrad, but before he can get his man, the curse must be broken for good.
Conrad couldn’t believe what was about to happen. Was he crazy? Maybe. But he’d seen Manfred change to a cat and back to a man with his own eyes. He might be hallucinating ... or not.
But there was no denying when he looked into Manfred’s golden eyes something in his chest shifted. And definitely something in his groin. It was entirely possible this cat-man had intentions of harming him, but he didn’t think so. He’d been wrong before, though. He wasn’t always the best judge of men.
Manfred tossed him on the queen-sized bed and immediately started yanking at his jeans. He hadn’t bother putting on shoes after his shower so at least they didn’t have that problem to deal with. Conrad unsnapped his jeans which made Manfred’s tugging on them a lot easier.
Just like that Manfred had shed him of his jeans and briefs, freeing his hard as nails cock to spring free and slap against his thigh. Before he could do anything else, Manfred crushed Conrad underneath him, holding his arms above his head with one strong grip. The man’s other hand closed over Conrad’s cock, jerking it.
“Oh ... oh ... my God.”
Manfred kissed him, devouring his lips, nibbling them as he kissed and sending shockwaves through Conrad. It was like being attacked by an animal. Well, hell, he was, wasn’t he?
The other man let go of Conrad’s arms and reached for his black t-shirt. He saw the intent immediately. “No, wait, I’ll --”
Manfred ripped his black shirt down the middle and tore the shreds off, tossing them. “Sorry,” he murmured against Conrad’s lips, not sounding sincere at all.
Having dropped the robe from his perfect naked body before pouncing on Conrad, Manfred’s biceps were sleek and tanned, and begging for his touch now that his arms were free. He skated his fingers down the massive muscles, his own skin burning at the contact, his desire ratcheting with each stroke across the skin.
And speaking of stroking, Manfred pumped Conrad’s dick hard and fast, stopping for just a few seconds each time that expert hand brought him to the edge.
“You’re driving me crazy.” Conrad moaned.