The Alpha Men's Secret Club 3: Fallout: A Scorchingly Hot BBW Shifter Romance (6 page)

Still, Kate was glad when brunch was over.
She thanked Moira profusely, and Rust pulled her to the lounge – away from his parents.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said.

“Oh, no your parents are perfectly lovely.”

“They’
re not.” He grimaced. “They’re morbidly curious people, so hungry to have a part in my life they’re willing to do anything to make it happen. But it’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t blame them,” she said. “They love you. They would naturally
want to know everything about you.”

He looked deadpan at her. “They wanted to meet the girl who plotted my downfall.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding.
In a sense. They just wanted to meet the girl who has gotten me so wrapped around her little finger that I’m willing to sacrifice my career for her.”

“That’s not how it happened,” she protested. But her heart was beating very fast with hope.
Was some part of it true?

He grinned.
“I know. But I thought I’d get it over with anyway – you meeting them. That will make them happy for a while – the thought that I actually
have
a girlfriend.”

Oh. So he told his parents that she was his girlfriend just to make them happy. Now they probably thought he was going to get married or mated or whatever it was that shifters did, which he had no intention of doing at all. Her spirits sank.

He saw her face.

“Kate,” he said gently, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You’re as close to a real girlfriend as I’m ever going to have. But we’re both not ready to take the next step. My parents have given up on ever finding another tiger shifter and we all know this is the end of our line. Unless – ”

H
is face darkened and he shook his head.

“What?” she said.

“Some things are best left unlearned. Come on, Kate.” He shepherded her gently up the sweeping stairway. “Let me show you to my old room.”

“Oh, are we going to christen it?” she said, trying to lighten her own spirits.
I’m as close to being a girlfriend as he is ever going to have. That’s a significant step, right?

He laughed. He did seem so much happier out of campus, despite being in his parents’ house.

“Why not?” he said.

“But won’t they hear
us?”

“It’s a big house, and you’ll have to promise not to make too much noise.”

This time, she had to laugh too.

For answer, he upended her in a sudden swoop of his arms.
She squealed in delight as he carried her up the rest of the stairs.

Maybe the easiest way to handle
her own expectations was to live totally in the moment.

12

The call went through the
second time.

“Hello?” said a voice.

“Rita Cunningham?” Carlo lounged in the payphone booth, receiver pressed to his ear.

“Yes?”

“You wrote an article about the mysterious deaths in Bellevue around five years back.”

Hesitation.

“Yes, yes, I did.”

“Did you manage to uncover anything more about those deaths?”

“Who is this?”

“Let’s just say I’m an informer, and I wish to remain anonymous.”

“What do you want to tell me about the Bellevue case?”
Rita demanded.

“Are you still interested?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

A pause on the other end. Carlo could tell that Rita Cunningham was not the type of woman who liked to be played. But he wasn’t the type of man who liked to be played either, and so that made two of them.

He had seen her photo on the web anyway. She was red-headed.
Hair in a mess of tightly wound curls. Pretty. Slightly plump in a very pleasing way.

Rita said, “
I managed to get a hold of the coroner’s inquests. The patients all died of pneumonia or diabetic complications or kidney failure. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that the deaths were pretty much following one another in the space of months or even weeks. The patients were criminally insane, and they were mostly all but abandoned by their own family. And so no one really cared about what happened to them.”

“What do you think happened to them?”

“I thought you had something to tell me.”

“It goes both ways if you’re going to make any inroads on this.”

Rita paused. Then:

“
I think they’re covering something up.”

“Who?
Connor O’Brien?”

“It’s time you told me what you wanted to tell me. Unless you have nothing to tell
me and you’re just trying to pry information out of me.” Her tone was challenging.

“Oh, no.
I have something to tell you all right. You have every right to suspect those deaths were not all they seemed. Did you follow up on the case throughout the years?”

“My editor pulled me off it.”

“Dig further. You’ll probably find that the deaths didn’t stop at five years ago, but they would probably now be more evenly spaced out so as not to attract attention. The coroner’s reports would be all the same – death from diseases found in institutions. After all, criminally insane patients are a susceptible bunch.”

“I don’t need an informer to tell me that,” she said smugly.

“But maybe you need an informer to point you to the motive. Five years ago, Connor O’Brien’s son, Rust, worked with him in Bellevue.”

“I know that. It was in my research.”

“Did you speak to Rust?”

“No. Connor was the spokesperson for Bellevue, along with the administrator at that time.”
Rita’s tone turned cunning. “So you’re telling me the deaths weren’t accidental?”

“
Accidental
is such a connotative word. Let’s just say some
experiments
were conducted for research purposes. As to the motive for those experiments, I’ll leave you to your investigative wiles. It’s worth opening up the file again, Ms. Cunningham. This could be the scoop of a century. We’re talking a mind-blowing discovery which could change how we view the world.”

He could hear her sharp intake of breath. He smiled. He knew he had gotten her.

“Pulitzer Prize winning type discovery?” she said.

“Maybe even better.
Scoop this, and your life will never be the same again. I promise.”

“Tell me more.” She was suddenly eager.

“Goodbye, Ms. Cunningham.”

Still smiling, he clicked down the payphone.

13

The Gathering!

Only it had a really old name –
Ceilidh
. It was in Gaelic.

Kate’s body was still trembling from the
intensive fucking she had received from Rust in his old bedroom. She sensed that Rust was trying to make a point under his parents’ roof.
I’ll do what I want with whom I want, and there’s nothing either of you can do anything about it.

And now she was going to the
Ceilidh
.

SATURDAY NIGHT’s clothing, it seemed, was optional.

Rust and she were in their Four Seasons suite. He was helping her dress. Or undress.

She studied her reflection in the mirror.
She was in what could only be described as a blue micro-string bikini. Her large tits were encased in a delicate spider web mesh, and her nipples were almost completely exposed, save for a concentration on the tips of her pink areolas.

The underwear portion of
was equally embarrassing. Her clit was covered only by a string with a bright jewel in it. Her labia were completely exposed. The string was tight, pressing down on her clit and the cleft between her buttocks.

“You look beautiful,” Rust said from behind her. “You need jewelry.”

He adorned her neck with a sapphire and diamond necklace which was so magnificent it took her breath away.

“If you tell me this was your mother’s, I’m going to scream,” she said.

“Then I won’t tell you it’s my mother’s.” He augmented this with matching earrings.

She looked and felt like a
manga princess.

“Is everyone going like this?” she asked.

“Yes.”

For a de
nouement, he wrapped her up in the fur coat which formed most of SATURDAY NIGHT’s attire bulk. She noted that it was mink.

“PETA won’t be after you?” she said.

“We’re on top of the food chain in more ways than one.” His eyes held hers in the mirror. They were filled with lust . . . and affection. Maybe more than just affection. Desire. Obsession. Whatever she would like to read into them.

“What will you
be wearing?” she said.

For answer, he grinned.

*

The
Ceilidh
was held on private grounds on the sprawling state of New York. The grounds were immense, stretching out into woodland, as was appropriate for a shifter holding.

“Are all shifters rich?”
Kate asked in awe, taking in the brightly lit lanterns which decked the paths.

“Well, you’ve met Carlo,
” said Rust.

Ah.

Still, this enclave was enormous. As Hector’s limo wound farther in, Kate could see that the trees were bedecked with colored lights as well, and there were flickering torches everywhere, which evoked a pagan sense of festivity.

“Who does this place belong to?” she said.

“A shifter billionaire called Aaron Mitchell.”

“Aaron Mitchell?
The
Aaron Mitchell? He’s a shifter?” She was aghast. Aaron Mitchell was only one of the most influential and richest people on the planet.

Rust laughed.
“Yes, yes and yes. But don’t get too excited. He’s married with three children.”

“I’m not
– ” she began.

“I know.” He stroked the back of her hand softly.

There was a cluster of cars at the large parking lot and several
valets waiting to take their keys.

“This is where we get off,” Rust said
, getting out to open the door for her. He was dressed in a simple white linen shirt and matching pants. But Kate knew that underneath, he wore the bare minimum. Like herself.

She was very self-conscious when she stepped out of the limo. Self-conscious that Hector knew what was underneath her mink coat. And self-conscious that
everything would be revealed publicly once she went onto the gardens.

“Don’t worry,” Rust murmured. His arm was wrapped protectively behind her back.
“Once you get into the mood, everything will come naturally.”

Her naked pussy underneath was starting to leak, if that was what he was referring to. But that was because she was dressed so provocatively.
It was because she was so ‘bare’ underneath. Her hormones were starting to go into overdrive because her mind was spinning with the implications. And Rust’s overpoweringly magnetic presence was always omnipresent. Always reminding her of what he could do to make her melt.

It didn’t help that his thumb was now caressing the small of her back underneath all that mink.
Back, forth, back, forth – the movement was both suggestive and proprietary.

She found it difficult
to walk on the cobbled path in her heels, but Rust shepherded her. There were other guests on the grounds. The grass was lush and verdant and obviously well-tended to. Little oddly-shaped stones were strewn here and there.

Kate found herself studying the walking guests.
They were in most part skimpily dressed, or dressed like herself and Rust. There were both men and women of myriad ages, or maybe it was difficult to tell in the wan light. They were chatting and laughing gaily, and they called out to one another in greeting.

“You know anyone?” she asked Rust.

“Some. But I’ve been out of the circuit for some time in New York, and so . . . no, mostly.”

“Are other people flying in?”

“Sometimes they do, but it’s not my party and I’m not privy to the guest list. Why do you care who I know anyway, Kate? We’re here to have fun.”

She sucked in a breath. “I’m just wondering if Thomas and Carlo would be here.”

“I don’t think so. This is a New York
Ceilidh
. I think they would find it difficult to wrangle themselves onto Aaron Mitchell’s guest list.”

They walked farther into the grounds, where the thick trees enveloped them. Within the cluster of greenery,
the lushness of the environment enveloped her like comforting arms. And then she saw the stones, and it was as if she was cast under a spell.

Rust’s eyes were riveted to them too. She could hear his sharp intake of breath.

The stones were monoliths about twice the height of a man. They were old and weathered, and seemed to be transported from Stonehenge or somewhere similar. But unlike Stonehenge, there were carvings on the stones. Runic carvings.

“Want to see them close up?” Rust said.

“Yes.” She felt the power of the place, like an electromagnetic current thrumming just beneath the surface of her flesh. Her atoms were vibrating.

“Unnerving, aren’t they?” Rust said.

“What are they?”

“Ancient stones dug up from another land and transported here a long time ago.
Aaron Mitchell went through a great deal of trouble and money to bring them over.”

“Where are they from?”

“Mesopotamia. This entire house is built on a ley line. A line of power. It’s a very old one running through New York state. Aaron Mitchell bought the land and built the house. Once he did that, he multiplied his billions, so the story goes.”

“But he was already rich to begin with.”

“The rich can always do with more spare change. Sometimes it’s not the money. It’s the competitiveness. Aaron Mitchell had a mission to climb up the rungs of the Forbes 100.”

Music struck up.
It was old music which harkened to the time of witches and fairies and naked people who danced around a Maypole. A ragtag band dressed in all green weaved their way through the gathering throng – playing pipes and fiddles and lutes. Waitresses clad like Grecian nymphs served trays filled with wine and cider and mead as well as hors d’oeuvres. Braziers of incense smoldered everywhere.

Kate clung to Rust, feeling out of her depth.

“Take off your shoes,” he said.

“What?”

“Take them off. Feel the power of the land through the soles of your feet.”

To demonstrate, he took off his shoes and threw them into some shrubs.
After a beat, she followed. He was right. She could feel something thrumming on the soles of her feet. She looked up at him, her face shining.

He smiled down at her, and she caught the expression of undisguised hunger in his eyes again. Could he desire her so much?
she marveled. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see some of the guests disrobing. They were all wearing as much – or as little – as she was wearing underneath her coat.

“This is when you shed all your inhibitions,” Rust said, his fingers at his shirt buttons.

He undressed slowly, letting her take in his gleaming body. She would never tire of watching him undress – that slow revelation of silky skin encasing taut muscles. His nipples were very erect. As was his thick cock.

He was now completely naked.
Unadorned. With not even a single decoration or accoutrement to enhance his glorious body. Not that he needed any. He was magnificent as he was.

She wondered if she was allowed to touch him.

“Just follow my lead, Kate,” he said, sliding the mink coat off her shoulders.

The sensuous fur caressed her bare skin as it dropped to her ankles.
The sudden chill struck her skin and gave her instant goose bumps. She stepped out of the heap, feeling very naked, feeling as though all eyes were on her. But of course, they were not. The guests were in the throes of their own revelry.

Rust’s eyes burned as he took in her curves, which were enhanced – not hidden – by the coy strings of her micro-bikini. He took in her plump and erect nipples, her ample breasts, the way her engorged pussy lips were encircled by the tight straps. His hands trailed down her shoulders, her arms,
her waist. He stroked the mounds of her breasts and scissored her nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers.

She gasped at his boldness. Her head swiftly turned to see if anyone was watching. One of the waiters to their left was eyeing her
openly with admiration in his eyes. Rust noted this and held her close to him, with his erection nudging her belly. His hand dove down to caress her pussy lips and her poor, constricted clit, compressed by the tight string of her bikini bottom.

His fingers dipped into her wet pussy hole
and made a sweep of her walls. The waiter’s eyes danced.

“Rust, are you sure we should be doing this right here?”
Her cheeks were very hot.

“This is what a rave will be.
Public exhibitionism. This is a whole new experience you’re going to have to get used to tonight. And I’ll be here with you every step of the way.” His mouth lowered to her lips, and he kissed her – softly, languorously. “You are beautiful. To me and to everyone here. Never forget that.”

She gave in to the kiss.
After all, she hungered for him just as much as he hungered for her. And with the palpable power of this place, her hormones were throbbing with her need for him too. As he kissed her, his fingers dug into her leaking pussy hole and used her own juices to lubricate the rest of her external pussy parts. She was extremely aroused, and her vaginal walls clenched to greedily encompass his fingers.

“I could take you right here, right now,” he murmured against her lips, “but I
want to wait.”

“Wait till when?” she breathed.

She was marginally aware that the grounds were getting quite crowded as more and more revelers entered the fray. Their tinkling laughter and low voices filled the glowing atmosphere.

Then:

“Rust?” It was a female voice.

Both Rust and Kate broke off their lovemaking.

A beautiful woman was standing there, watching them. She had lustrous mahogany hair, and she was barely dressed, as with the rest of the guests. Her nipples were adorned with clamps in the shape of lotuses, and a delicate silver chain connected both nipples to each other. Her pussy was covered with a mesh, and she wore knee high black leather boots.

“
Shamilar?” Rust said, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited, just like you were,”
Shamilar said pointedly.

“I thought you had gone to South America.”

“The job didn’t work out, and so I’m back.”

Shamilar
?

Kate’s blood froze in her veins.