he Alpha Men's Secret Club 2(15)

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.