he Alpha Men's Secret Club 2: Desire Games (5 page)

8

The restaurant Rust was taking
her to was situated a little way off, and so it took thirty minutes to get
there. But once they were there, she was confronted with a guardhouse and a
barricade at the entrance to the parking lot.

Where the heck were they going?
The White House?

Rust winded down the window of
the McLaren as the guard came around.

“Password, please,” the guard
said.

“Amscray.”

The guard signaled someone in the
guardhouse and the barricade was lifted. Ah, so this was one of those secret
alpha men’s places.

“Are there a lot of these places
around here?” she asked quizzically.

“There are some.”

“There are still so many
shifters?”

“Not enough, Kate. Not enough. We
are a dying breed.” His face was obscured by the shadows as he drove them to an
empty spot between a Jaguar and a Toyota. So the clientele was mixed here in
terms of possession riches.

He came around to open the door
for her, and he gave her his hand to help her out. She could almost forget that
he was her Professor.

The restaurant was a double-storey
building which extended a good way back. It was made of red brick, like the six
foot walls which fringed its compound. The owner obviously intended to make
this a very private establishment, much like the Alpha Men’s Club.

A maitre d’ greeted them at the
doors. “Welcome, Mr. O’Brien. Haven’t seen you here for a long, long time.”

“Yes. It’s been entirely too long.”

“We have your table reserved.”
The maitre d’ gestured inside. His eyes roamed to her breasts appreciatively.
“This way, please.”

Unlike other restaurants, this
one did not lead to a room full of tables and diners and bustling waiters.
Instead, the doorway led down a corridor which was flanked by many translucent
curtains, which covered many other doorways. There were shadows behind these
curtains.

Kate stopped when she saw a
werewolf pad towards them. This place was entirely too much like the Alpha
Men’s Club. Only it wasn’t a club, and she wasn’t certain what took place
behind those curtains.

The werewolf eyed both Rust and
her as it walked by, but did not growl or bare its teeth.

“Relax. Not all wolves are
Thomas,” Rust said.

She knew that. Still, there was a
moment she had paused, wondering if the wolf had been Thomas, and Rust knew it.
He seemed to be able to read her psychological makeup so well. Was that a good
thing? she wondered.

The maitre d’ stopped at the
final curtain on their right. The light behind the curtain flickered, indicating
candlelight. The maitre d’ drew the curtain.

“Please go in.”

Inside was a spacious alcove. The
walls and ceiling were sunken and white-grey, reminiscent of a cave. The only
light in the room was by candelabra – a silver ensemble bedecked with
tiers of red candles. The rather large table was covered with a white lacy
tablecloth and there was a low sideboard against one wall.

The table was not set, other than
the candelabra. All the cutlery and napkins were on the sideboard.

Rust drew a chair for Kate. She
sat down, feeling rather naked. Her skin could be glimpsed beneath the
transparent material of her dress, even though the naughty parts were hidden
with patches of filigree worked cleverly into an Oscar gown potential design.
She sensed that Rust liked to show her off, even though she wasn’t the kind of
girl gorgeous men usually liked on their arm.

Still, she knew she looked
beautiful tonight. Hell, she felt beautiful, if Rust’s burning eyes were to go
by. And she wanted to be beautiful for him – for his eyes only.

Rust seated himself beside her.
The two chairs were very close, as were the two placemats on the table.

“Your waiter will be with you
shortly,” the maitre d’ said.

“Thank you, Bertrand.”

Kate studied the cutlery on the
sideboard. All of it was gleaming silver. The napkins were folded up into
shapes of owls. How quaint. She had never seen napkins folded into owls before.

“Do owls have significance in the
shifter world?” she asked.

“Yes. They have totally died out
now . . . as shifters. But when they were still around, they stood for
knowledge.”

“So do owls in the human world.”

“No. Owls in the human world
stand for wisdom. Wisdom and knowledge are not the same.”

Now he was beginning to sound
like the Professor she had lusted after and admired in simultaneous measure.

She hesitated. There was so much
she wanted to know about him. He was very handsome in his white dinner jacket.
Imposingly so, like a prince of the underworld. It struck her that this was
their first real dinner together.
A date
. She was on a date with Rust
O’Brien – a surrealistic notion she had dreamt about. It had always just been
about fucking for the two of them.  

She was extremely ill at ease.
What
did one do on dates?

Oh, yes. They attempted to make
conversation.

She said timidly, “Were your
parents shifter tigers as well?”

“Yes. That’s the only way I could
be in existence.”

“Do you . . . see them often?”

He smiled. “Ah, you want to know the
source of those earrings.”

She blushed. “Not in that way.”

“I know. My mother lives in
Manhattan. She still runs a successful private practice there.”

“What does she practice?”

“Psychiatry. Both my parents are
psychiatrists, but my father left his private practice long ago to work in
Bellevue, a psych hospital for the criminally insane.”

She didn’t dare to breathe. This
was the most she had uncovered about his family in the time they had been
together.

“Why did he do that?”

“He wanted to give back to the
community, I suppose. Do what was needed, what other psychiatrists were leery
of.” There was an edge in his voice that she subtly caught, but only because
she was looking out for everything he said.

“That’s very brave of him.”

“No braver than most.”

Kate supposed private practice
paid for those earrings then. But that didn’t indicate the source of Rust’s
wealth, unless his mother paid for his bachelor pad. Rust didn’t seem like the
sort of son who would take handouts from his parents, though.

He watched her watching him.

“I suppose after one month, you
might be curious about me,” he conceded. “My great-grandfather came from
Ireland with nothing but the clothes on his back. He started a small convenience
store in his neighborhood, Brooklyn. It became so successful that it grew into
a chain of convenience stores all around the Eastern seaboard.

“My grandfather took over, but
unfortunately, his children – my father included – were more
inclined towards the mind sciences. So he listed the business publicly and sold
all his shares out. What you see now are the reapings of our multiple trust
funds.”

She said, “And you are a shifter
family. No one knows?”

“No one but other shifters.” He
held her eyes. “And the human lovers we take.”

I’m his
lover
, she
thought. The word sent a thrill down her spine.

“Have there been many?” she said.
“Human lovers, I mean?”

His marvelous green eyes
glittered. “For shifters in general or me in particular?”

She blushed. “Both.”

“There have been some.”

“In both cases?” she ventured,
her tongue going slightly dry. She was being daring in asking him so many
questions. He might take it in his mind to punish her with a paddle or a soft
whip for it later.

“Yes,” he replied. “Though in my
case, I haven’t taken on many human lovers.”

A lump escaped into her throat.
His eyes were so very penetrating as they gazed into hers, as though he was
anticipating all her questions before she could ask them and finding them
amusing in their childlike curiosity.

“How are we different from . . .
the others?” she asked.

He smiled. “The others are more .
. . feral. More aggressive as lovers.”

“And do you like aggressive?” Her
voice fell.

He weighed this before replying,
“Not necessarily. Oftentimes I like a submissive, pliant woman. Docile, sweet .
. . and tractable.”

His hand rose to her cheek and he
caressed her skin slowly with the pad of this thumb. Lovingly.

Her chest rose with a quick
breath.

Sweet
. He called her
sweet.

Rust licked his lower lip.

“Not to mention beautiful,” he
said. “I’ve always liked a woman with a little flesh on her. Maybe it’s the
predator in me.”

She didn’t quite know what to say
to that, especially since his hand crept to her right breast. He pulled the
flimsy material of her dress away to reveal her nipple, which was already
swelling under his touch. His thumb and forefinger went to this exposed nipple,
and he started to rub it back and forth, back and forth.

A molten contraction went through
her pussy and she shuddered. How many times have they had sex already tonight?
It seemed that he wasn’t satiated yet.

They were interrupted by the
drawing of the curtain.

A young man dressed in only a
loincloth appeared at the doorway. His bare skin was bronzed and the bulge in
his white loincloth very pronounced.

“Good evening,” he said, “I am
your waiter for the – ”

He stopped short when he saw his
dinner guests.

Kate raised her eyes to the
waiter’s face and her gut shriveled within her abdomen.

9

“Kate?” The waiter said. “What
are you doing here . . . ?”

Then he saw Rust and he said,
“Oh.”

Everyone in the room clearly
recognized one another. Kate held the glowering face of Carlo Estez, whose body
was mostly nude. She almost forgot that her nipple was completely exposed.

But then, Carlo had already seen
her almost naked. Carlo had touched those very breasts and nipples on display
now.

Rust made no attempt to shield
her breast from Carlo’s questing eyes. He said, without inflection in his
voice, “Perhaps you’d care to give us the menus for tonight.”

Kate held her breath. Her eyes
darted from Rust to Carlo. So Rust was going to play it cool, although he
clearly knew what Carlo was doing here. Was this the waiter’s job Carlo had hinted
at to her? The place he dearly loved to take her to?

What was this place anyway? What
did it entail . . . being here?

She could see the Adam’s apple on
Carlo’s throat moving.

“Yes, of course,” Carlo finally
said. So he was going to play it cool as well. “I have brought the menus, sir.”

Indeed, he held a couple of large
menus in his hand. He walked in and handed one to Rust and herself.

“Sir,” he said deferentially,
“Miss.”

He stood there, his beautiful
bronzed body at attention. She had seen him naked before, of course. But she
still felt discomfited at his state of undress and at her own. She made to pull
back the material of her dress to cover her exposed teat, but Rust stopped her.

“Don’t,” he cautioned. “You’re
beautiful this way. You don’t ever have to be ashamed of your body. Our waiter
isn’t ashamed of his. Are you now?”

He directed this at Carlo.

After a beat, Carlo said, “No.
Can I help you with the menu selections, sir?”

Kate stared at the menu in front
of her, but did not dare say anything.

“I’ll order for the both of us,”
Rust said. “We’re famished. Aren’t you, my beloved?”

He tweaked her nipple again and
pulled at a tendril of her hair. All his gestures were tender, loving.

“Yes,” she said.

A large part of her was excited
to be on display like this, and yet another part of her – albeit a smaller
part – was shocked at her own boldness, her wantonness.

Rust perused the menu as Carlo
waited.

“Let’s see . . . do you have any
recommendations, waiter?”

“I would recommend the Japanese
set tonight, sir. It would suit your particular . . . tastes.”

“Very well. And bring some
sake
along, that’s a good man.”

“Yes, sir.” Carlo paused. “Will
that be all you are ordering, sir?” He seemed nervous for some reason.

Rust eyed him steadfastly and
said, “Yes. That will be all I need.”

Carlo left. Kate squirmed in her
seat. Rust fingered her nipple again.

“You’re beautiful, Kate,” he
said. “I want you to show the rest of yourself to me.”

She laughed lightly. “You mean
here?”

“Yes. This is a private
restaurant, and we are mostly shifters here. We have no inhibitions.”

“You want me to take off all my
clothes?” And the dress was so beautiful too.

“Yes.” He touched her earrings.
“Keep only these on.”

“What if Carlo comes back?”

“Are we negotiating, Kate?” A
harshness crept into his tone.

She was flustered. “No.”

“Then take off your clothes.” His
eyes were steely, commanding.

She got up. The dress itself was
easy enough to remove, and he helped her undo the halter behind her neck and
let the whole shimmering ensemble fall down to her shoes. Then she stepped out
of her heels and she was as he desired her – completely naked and wearing
only his mother’s diamond earrings.

There had to be psychological
ramifications to that.

He got up. She was a little
unbalanced, because she wasn’t sure if he wanted to take her on the table, just
like that.

“Lie down, Kate,” he said.

Yes, he did want to take her. She
could see it in his eyes.

Did he want Carlo to walk in and
see them fucking? That was it, wasn’t it? He wanted to play games with Carlo’s
mind too – to twist the dagger and bury it to the hilt.

“Rust,” she said, “I don’t think
it’s a good idea.”

He started to take off his
jacket, and then his shirt.

“Look,” he said, “I’m doing it
too, so you’re not alone.”

“That thing with Carlo – ”

“Who’s Carlo?” he said
innocently.

She frowned. Was he kidding her?
But then, he had a reputation for not knowing his students’ names. He knew
hers, but did he know anyone else’s?

“Don’t think about anyone but
me,” he said. “Exclusivity. This is what it’s all about. The waiter . . . the
one you call Carlo . . . he was asking me if I wanted to order his side
services which are also on a menu of a different sort . . . but I declined.”

“Services?” She envisioned the
way Carlo was dressed, or undressed, depending on how you viewed it.

“Yes.” He slipped off his pants.
He was naked underneath, and his cock was erect. It was incredible how quickly he
got hard again so soon after they had made love for the second time that night.
“Services. But we won’t be needing them because of the exclusivity clause.”

He helped her onto the table. She
lay upon it on her back, feeling very vulnerable. Her buttocks were on the edge
of the table and her legs wavered in the air.

“Spread your legs for me, Kate.”

She parted her legs. He held them
both apart in his hands. The desire was stark in his eyes as he gazed down at
her pussy. His cock was a ramrod piece of flesh between his legs.

The curtain parted again and
Carlo reappeared, carrying a tray. He did a double take when he saw them both
naked and already prepped for what they were about to do.

Rust looked up.

“Are you ready to serve?” he
asked Carlo.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then come in.”

Kate didn’t move. But her eyes
followed Carlo as he made his way into the tiny room with the tray. Carlo’s
eyes burned as he took in every inch of her body.

You are beautiful
, his
eyes said,
and you don’t deserve what he’s doing to you
.

The tray was filled with small,
multicolored pieces of raw fish. What was the Japanese name for them again?
Yes, sashimi. She had only ever tasted it once, back in high school. The fish
slices were arranged artfully. Orange in one quadrant of the plate. Red in
another. White in the third and yellow in the fourth. All quadrants were neatly
partitioned by green mint and maroon strings of ginger.

“Splendid,” Rust said.

Carlo stood next to him. In his
hand – the one which wasn’t carrying the black lacquer tray – was a
pair of chopsticks. He looked down in dismay at Rust’s impressive erection.

“Shall I serve, sir?” he said
sullenly.

“Yes, but only with the
chopsticks, and don’t touch her with any part of yourself.”

The warning and challenge were
clear.

“I will try, sir,” Carlo said
with an edge to his voice.

Rust turned to Kate.

“Lie very still,” he instructed.

He moved backwards, allowing
Kate’s legs to drop and then dangle off the table. She had to claw at the table
to retain her balance.

“Spread your legs wider, Kate,”
Rust ordered. “Put your feet on the edge of the table.”

Her natural instinct was to close
her legs in the presence of Carlo. He was a stranger, and yet not a stranger. But
he seemed entirely too eager, too curious to look at her splayed pussy and her
gaping holes. But she must not disobey Rust. Wasn’t this the nature of their
relationship? The dominant and the dominated. The powerful and the obedient.

So he wanted her to experience a
new threshold of pleasure – to be derived by showing her body to another
man who was covetous of her. Wasn’t there a word in psychology they learned for
it? Exhibitionism. She had her first taste of it when she was asked to display
her wares in The Alpha Men’s Club.

And now she was being asked to
exhibit herself again. To a boy who openly desired her, no less.

She did as she was told. She was
surprisingly limber, and so she placed both her feet on the edge of the table.
It was quite uncomfortable and she was very stretched at her hip joints. But
her body was still young and supple, and she could maintain the position. Her
thighs were open at a slightly lower than one hundred-and-eighty arc now, and
her pussy and asshole were lushly displayed. Their shadows danced in the
flickering candlelight – two men and a woman lying down.

Carlo came closer.

Look at me. Desire me.

She could tell he was extremely
discomfited in the presence of her lover and his Professor. The bulge at his
loincloth was even more pronounced now as he took in her engorged pussy leaves
and hole, which had just started creaming again. She knew how much he wanted to
tear his loincloth off his hard, constrained cock and plunge it into her hole.
How badly he wanted to fuck her in all her orifices.

But her lover was watching and he
had forbidden Carlo to touch her.

Carlo shakily picked up a salmon
sashimi with his chopstick. He was an expert in using them. Without letting any
part of his skin touch hers, he laid the orange sliver – sliced off a
salmon’s belly – onto her left nipple. Then he did the same to her right.

The fish slivers were cold
against the protuberant tips of her nipples. She almost did not dare to breathe
for fear of the sashimi sliding off.

Rust’s nostrils flared.

“Wait,” he said to Carlo.

Carlo moved aside as Rust came up
again to the edge of the table where her pussy gaped. Rust’s hands stroked her
open thighs. He leaned over to seal his mouth over her right nipple, where the
salmon piece draped. Her nipple tingled as his teeth grazed upon her sensitive,
puckered flesh.

He ate the sashimi slice, swallowing
it in one gulp. Then he did the same to the one on her other nipple.

“Would you like more servings,
sir?” Carlo said. Once again, she could detect the razor edge in his voice, as
though he was working and clenching his jaw.

“Yes.”

From the side of the table, Carlo
placed two slices of red mackerel on her nipples. Rust ate them off her again.
The contrast of cold fish against his warm, wet mouth upon her flesh was stark.
His tongue licked the tip of her nipple lovingly as he lifted the sashimi off her
skin.

They did this again and again
– serving after serving. She was a veritable feast. Each time, Rust
applied more pressure on her nipples as he ate the fish off her. Sucking her
teats. Licking her areolas. Wetting them until her darker flesh was glistening
and shining in the candlelight.

Her stomach was a mess of
gurgling juices. She was hungry too, but her pussy was flowering and creaming
with her need. Her vaginal juices were spilling over the edge of her tunnel
again, staining the undersides of her buttocks and the table.

Oh, what an embarrassment!

Then Rust said, “Downwards.”

Carlo placed the next slice on
her belly, just below her sternum. Rust ate that, licking her skin as he did so
and leaving a patch of wetness there. The next slice was placed on a spot below
the first one, and then below. Rust followed the trail. When he reached her
navel, his tongue dipped into it and circuited it with a languorous swirl.

Each time his tongue danced upon
her skin, a fevered spool of pleasure uncurled in her groin. The fish was
placed lower and lower until Carlo had reached her mons. Rust ate this. Before
Carlo could pick up the next slice with his chopsticks, Rust took it in a
pincer grip.

“Allow me,” he said.

He opened up the petals of her
pussy with his thumb and third finger. Then, holding them apart, he wedged the
sliver of raw fish in between her labia and clit. He did the same to the fold
on the other side. Carlo was a desperate observer. His cock tented his
loincloth, and he was so hard it was like a flag.

Rust took more slices and pushed
them into the molten hole of her pussy – pushed them deep in. The cold fish
was clammy and yet erotic. The walls of her vagina were pushed back, and
further pushed back until she was stretched. She gasped as he continued to fill
her.

He kept stuffing in more slices
until the tray was empty save the mint and ginger. Her vagina was now engorged
with sashimi, which kept pressing down on the ultra-sensitive spot below her
cervix so that continuous streams of pleasure kept coursing through her entire
groin.

Rust said to Carlo, “We’re going
to need more fish. Go get us another plate, will you . . . waiter?”

Carlo glowered and left.

As soon as the curtain fell, Rust
bent his glorious head down onto her pussy and gently nicked the slivers of
fish between her labia with his teeth. The fish eased out of her hot, enclosed
flesh, and the sudden vacuum it left sent her nerve fibers firing on all
cylinders.

“Ohhhh,” she groaned.

Her clit was a livewire, begging
to be caressed, to be touched.

He did not leave her wanting. He
closed his teeth very gently around her heated, bulging hood and bit down upon
it.

She combusted then and there.

Her orgasm seized her and sent
violent tremors throughout her body. He did not relent but pressed down on her
clit with his tongue, stubbing it and moving the tender morsel of flesh from
side to side. Her orgasm was long and drawn-out. Her mind was filled with
explosions and little starbursts of pleasure, each more prolonged than the
previous one.

When the starbursts started to
abate, he sealed his lips over the overflowing tunnel of her pussy. He withdrew
the first sodden sliver of fish with his teeth and ate it. She writhed with
pleasure. He dipped his tongue into her hole to tease out the second, and he
ate that as well.