Our first #Spotlight Saturday is Graced by the Cat by Geneva Holt. Part of the multi-author Once Upon A Time series, this is a fairytale re-imagining with a cursed prince attempting to break his curse, a human trying to re-build his life and lots of magic and adventure. When this hot excerpt teases you enough, the book is available now.
From the blurb:
All Jesse's dreams depend on a little white cat.
The beautiful man stumbling into his castle gives Max painful hope he can finally break the curse that keeps him a helpless cat. In return, Max showers him with gifts: luxuries, even the keys to the world, and sensual dreams beyond imagining. But soon, dreams aren't enough. Jesse wants more. So does Max.
As they dive deeper into Jesse's missions for the mysterious Exclusive Acquisitions Inc., they'll guide each other through a world of hope and desire, magic and love.
Graced by the Cat is an M/M reimagining of the fairytale The White Cat, a non-shifter modern fairytale romance launching the EA Inc. series.
Excerpt:
His eyes locked on mine intently while he slowly spread one hand over the top of my bare foot. As if he wanted permission. In my dream.
I pushed my foot toward him, letting the sheet fall away. Surely letting him see everything was some kind of permission.
He seemed to take it as such, but still kept his eyes on mine as his hand slid higher, higher. Over the bones of my shin, and gliding over my knee to the muscle of my thigh.
No one had ever lost themselves like that in contemplation of my skin, my muscles, the way my bones joined together. I half-expected the dream to become a nightmare; that kind of intensity had consequences.
Instead, he just bent over me, the other hand joining the first as if he couldn’t get enough, both of them sliding up my thighs, massaging the muscles, toward where my most evident invitation stood waiting for him.
He paused, pretty shy for a dream, staring as if he’d never seen anything like me.
He waited so long, motionless, hot hands leaving prints of fire on the skin of my thighs, that I took myself in hand and gave myself a long, slow stroke for his perusal.
It’s a good-looking cock, if I say so myself, on the longer side, and I sighed at the feel of my own silky skin, pushing back my head till my hips rose from the bed. Maybe it was the dream, maybe it was the day I had behind me, but I felt so urgent so fast. Just his eyes on me made me want to make it last, but the flush of heat I felt from my balls to my ribs told me I couldn’t, not even in my own dream.
My dream-man seemed to want to—I don’t know, take care of me somehow. His big body curled over mine as if to shield me from the rain, but there was no rain. I was lying on a beach in Hawaii, a spot I’d never see for real, as I couldn’t take that plane. But I’d read about the softness of the air, how the night flowers smelled, and I often fell asleep imagining the sound of the surf.
One of his hands reached up and swept my hair away from my eyes.
It felt amazing, odd callouses in places I didn’t expect, strong. Hot. If only he would touch me where I was most desperate to be touched.
I looked into his eyes and my lips moved; I don’t know if I said anything. That’s how it is in dreams, you know? You can dream that you talked, but the words don’t make sense. There’s not really any sound. Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night with a profound thought, scrabble for a pencil to write it down, then look at it in the morning to find it was gibberish? Yeah. It was like that.
Whatever noise I might have made, he understood my urgency. The slow glide of his hands up and down my skin, his thumbs in that soft crease at the top of my thighs, his fingers splaying over my abdomen, all of it clenched into a feeling of hot relief as he finally took my cock in his hand and stroked it, all the way up and back down again. I spread my legs wider for him.
Me bucking into his hand forced him to speed up. He looked like he could take a year to do this, while I felt like five minutes might kill me.
I was already wrecked, my heart racing, sweat gathering behind my knees, even my nipples tight and hard for him when he hadn’t even touched them. It was a crazy kind of hunger.
It was different from sex in most dreams. Concentrated. Almost real. There were details I’d never imagined before, from the way his thumb lay caressingly at the base of me on every downstroke, to the way his breath hitched when I thrust back into his strength.
My body screamed more, more, more, yet felt sizzling with pure bliss just from his dream hand splayed over one thigh and the other hot and holding me.
With a few more strokes of his hand, each twist of his palm over the tip of my cock making me writhe in exquisite desperation, I came for him.
The pumping silvery jets flooded over his hand and he looked at them, at me, with obvious awe.
I was trying to catch my breath, trying to gather my thoughts from all the scattered places, when he reached down and grabbed himself. His own cock looked purple with desperation and waiting.
I never had a chance to lay a hand on him. With only a few strokes of his own, his thumb polishing the tip once, then again, he exploded over me, curling toward me again, giving me that sense of protective shielding even as his shots splattered into mine, mingling on the clenched muscles below my ribs.
He wound up leaning over me, one arm braced alongside my chest, breathing as heavily as I was, looking into my eyes with a desperate, hungry look that was also somehow wrong.
In dreams there are always odd details. Like, you see the table where you ate cereal as a kid, but it’s purple, or has a hole in it. Or it’s covered with monsters or something.
I couldn’t put my finger on what was odd about his eyes; it was just out of reach.
Graced by the Cat is currently available as an e-book and paperback and can be read as part of your Kindle Unlimited Subscription
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