he Alpha Men's Secret Club 2: Desire Games

THE ALPHA MEN’S SECRET CLUB 2: DESIRE GAMES

A Shockingly Hot BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance

By Dawn Steele

This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright
2014 by Dawn Steele

Cover
art by Dawn Steele

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

Dawn Steele is the New Adult/romance/shifter
romance pen name of Aphrodite Hunt.

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THE ALPHA MEN’S SECRET CLUB 2: DESIRE GAMES

1

Does he feel anything for me?

Does he not feel anything for
me?

Kate stared at the flowing river
from the embankment, letting the wind sweep up her long dark hair. It was
cloudy today, and the trees were rustling in the wind, throwing off dead leaves
for the cleaners to pick up. Barges floated in the water below, the people on
them oblivious to her plight.

Rust O’ Brien. Enigmatic.
Secretive. Completely aloof and completely mysterious. Completely gorgeous and completely
sexy and everything a girl could ever desire.

She had his body, but she didn’t
have his heart.

After a month of torrid sex
almost every day in secret places – the club, his office, motel rooms,
anywhere he could get her away from prying eyes – she had been more
satisfied sexually than she had ever dreamed a woman could be.

The sex was frenetic, intense,
mind-blowing. Her orgasm threshold was on a permanent nadir – so low that
she was almost always spontaneously combusting. All it took from him to get her
going was just a look.

Just one look, and she would wet
her panties.

If she was actually wearing them.

Oh
. She had it bad.

What did she want now? Were not
all her orifices filled and expanded and pounded regularly into molten submission?
Was not her pussy perennially sore from so much stimulation that she could
hardly stand, let alone walk? Did her juices not flow copiously every day so
that she wore an almost permanent stain on her inner thighs?

That was the trouble with women.
The more sex she had, the more sex she craved. She could not get enough of Rust
O’ Brien. She could not get enough of his beautiful face as he looked down at
her while he fucked her; that firm, frantic thrusting of his hips as he slammed
into her so hard until the bed and walls shuddered.

But now . . . she wanted
something more.

That was all she was to him, she
was certain. A body. A body he seemed to desire and crave just as much as she
desired and craved him.

And yet . . . she did not have
his heart. She did not have his soul.

She was his mistress. His sexual
partner in submission and bondage.

But she wanted more. More!

Was she unusual in wanting more?
Could he see the love in her eyes as she gazed upon him – a love she did
not dare betray too much lest he dump her without so much as another word?

The only way I can still have
him is to keep the status quo.

Until he tires of me.

Her heart wrenched in her chest.
She could feel the physical pain of it turning uncomfortably, of her heart
strings being tugged by her psyche.

I want more.

But she did not dare challenge
what was between them. What if she tried for something more, and it backfired
miserably? What if he threw her out on the street and asked her never to see
him again?

Kate stared miserably at the
water. At the tourists on the open barge. At their guide who toted a
loudspeaker, telling them about the sights to be savored, about what else was
around the river bend. She was paralyzed with indecision. Paralyzed with the
fear of losing him should she decide to press for more. Paralyzed with the fear
of losing him anyway if she didn’t.

She felt like throwing herself
into the water and sinking to the bottom of the river, letting it cover the top
of her head. That way, it would be peaceful. There would be absolute calm. They
would find her body the next morning, and
he
would be sorry he hadn’t
loved her
more
. . . hadn’t wanted more from her.

He would be sorry for a twinge of
a second.

She laughed. She couldn’t help
herself. Look at her! She was a basket case, pining over the love of a man no
one could have!

At least she had him. At least
she had his body. His rock hard body and his thick, long, erect cock.

For now.

That day on the embankment,
contemplating wild thoughts of love and unrest, Kate had no idea how much her
life was going to change.

Again.

2

The trouble with Kate was that
she wasn’t completely comfortable with herself.

She wasn’t comfortable about her
body or who she was. She was losing weight, and yet, she was afraid of losing
weight because Rust seemed to like her voluptuous curves for what they were.
She was afraid of losing her curves, because that was what he saw in her in the
first place.

Imagine! She was eating ice-cream
and all sorts of fattening things to keep her weight up! Was she the only girl
in the world to do that?

She filed through the corridors
to the library. She had an assignment due. Sometimes, she threw herself into
her studies so that she wouldn’t think about Rust O’Brien all the time. Besides,
she wanted to impress him in class.

I’m not just an overweight
fuck doll, you know. I have a brain
.

“Hey, girl!”

Oh no. It was her best friend and
roommate, Michaela. Kate had been having a devil of a time keeping her affair
with Rust O’ Brien under wraps, especially since she sometimes stayed out all
night.

But still –

Michaela loped up, beaming, her
laptop clutched in her big arm.

“Girl, I swear you’ve been trying
to avoid me.”

“I can’t avoid you. You’re, like,
my roommate.”

“That’s true.” Michaela linked
her other arm around Kate’s and together they walked to the library. “I know
you’ve been holding out of me and I know I have no right to ask you to tell me
anything you don’t want to, but damn, girl, I miss you!”

“But I’m right here. I’m your
roommate.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Other people passing them gave
them amused stares. And why not? Michaela was a humungous big black girl with
her arm linked with another big, albeit far smaller, white girl.

“What do you mean?” Kate
demanded, although she knew exactly what Michaela meant. She had been there . .
. but not there.

“I mean us talking. We used to
talk all the time.”

“We still do.”

“Yeah, but you won’t tell me who
you’ve been seeing.”

“I’m not seeing anybody.” Kate
squirmed. She had always been bad at lying. But it was one of his rules of
engagement.
If you want this tryst between us, tell no one. Not your best
friend. Not your sister. Not your mother. And not even your shadow.

“Liar.”

“OK, but I made a promise not to
tell anyone about it. Please, Michaela, I love you, but I did promise. Please!”

Kate sounded so beseeching that Michaela
relented.

“OK, but you have got to tell me
one day.” She spun Kate around and bored her brown eyes into Kate’s orbs.
“You’re different, and I’m worried about you. Whoever this guy is, he’s not
good for you. You’re too quiet these days. What’s the word for it? Pensive.
Like you’ve permanently lost your dog.”

“I am not!”

“You are. You don’t notice things
like these, but I do. You’re mooning around sometimes like you want to kill
yourself, and other times, you’re just like a kid with candy at Halloween.
These mood swings are worrying me, girl. You’re losing weight.”

“I am?” Kate cried in horror.

Michaela started to laugh. “Look
at yourself. I’ll bet a month ago you would have given anything to lose weight.
And right now, you should just see the look on your face. It’s like hell just
froze over.”

Kate grimaced. “I mean – ”

Michaela was right. She was a
mess.

“Girl, if you’ve got a problem, I
want you to tell me about it, OK?” Michaela turned serious. “There’s no use you
pining and not doing something about it. Whatever it is – drugs,
pregnancy, a guy who’s been cheating on you – you tell me about it and
I’ll fix it. You hear? That’s what my Mama always said. If you have a problem,
you tell someone who can fix it. My Mama always fixed things, and I inherited
that from her.”

Kate nodded. “I promise, I will.
But I’m not in trouble.”

Not yet.

Michaela gave her a fierce bear
hug, and then together, they walked into the library, the best of friends.

*

Funny Michaela should mention
pregnancy.

Because that was the least of
Kate’s problems.

That day – after she had
seduced Rust O’Brien in his office for the second time after their tryst in the
Alpha Men’s Club – he asked her:

“Do you want to continue this?”

Her heart leaped. She didn’t even
hesitate or play hard to get. After all, she was the seducer.

She said, “Yes.”

“Are you on the pill?”

“No.”

“You have any conditions that
would contraindicate you to be on the pill?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Great.” He zipped up his pants.
His face was flushed and his expression was that of a very satisfied cat. A
huge, striped, furry cat.

She was pleased – though
she would never say so to him – that she had given him so much pleasure
that he asked her if she wanted to continue.

“Why do you ask . . . sir?” she
said. She still wasn’t sure what to call him. ‘The Perfesser’ seemed too
perfunctory.

He did not contradict her, or ask
her to call him ‘Rust’. He stood up.

“I like fucking without condoms,”
he said. “If you would be exclusive to me, that wouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Exclusive to him? The thought
thrilled her.

“Yes,” she said boldly. “But what
if you are not exclusive to me? What if you . . . catch something from someone
else . . . and pass it on to me?”

Wow. She couldn’t believe she
said that. But she was on a high after the sex.

He stared at her for a long, long
time. His expression was one of amusement.

He said gently, “Trust me, Kate,
when you are exclusive to me, none of that will happen.”

None of what would happen? she
wondered. That he would catch something and pass it on to her? Or that he would
wear a condom when he was fucking someone else and then do it bare with her? Or
that he would be exclusive to her?

So many questions! He was turning
her topsy-turvy again.

He said, “Do you have a
gynecologist you go to?”

“Yes,” she lied. She had never
gone to a gynecologist in her entire life. She didn’t have the money.

“Because I can recommend one if
you don’t.”

“I do.”

“So . . . you can go on the
pill?”

She nodded as she swallowed the
lump in her throat.

“I can go on the pill.”

So long as I get to have you and
keep on having you.

It was a psychological game. If
she went on the pill, she convinced herself, he would still be with her because
he would be convinced she was exclusive to him . . . and he would get to fuck
her without a condom.

One month. All it took was one
month of being on the pill . . . and then he could do it bare without the risk
of pregnancy.

She was at that impasse now.

She looked down at the oblong
pillbox of oral contraceptives.

The one month had passed. Now
they would move to the next level.

She wondered what he had in store
for her.

Or maybe he should wonder what
she had in store for
him
.