The Alpha Men's Secret Club 4: Intrigue: A Shockingly Hot BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance

by Steele, Dawn

  Had the ECT really burned the bestiality out of him?

  “That’s right,” she encouraged him. “Suck them. Take my teats in your mouth.”

  She had to mount him for him to do so. She placed her left nipple into his mouth. She was a little afraid of what he would do, actually. In this state, would he exercise caution? Or would he be as feral as the night he ran away from her?

  She had to take the chance. She loved him enough to endure any pain.

  His mouth closed in on her nipple, and he was surprisingly gentle. He sucked at her teat, moistening it with his tongue, taking more and more of her flesh within. A beatific expression came over his features. He was at peace with this act.

  “Oh, Rust,” she whispered. With every suck he administered to her teat, she felt her womb contract. “I love you. I love you so much.”

  His hands curled around her waist. This couldn’t be purely physical now, she thought with mounting excitement. He had to understand what she was saying to him.

  “I love you,” she said to him, over and over. “I love you.”

  His cock was hard and standing. She raised her hips and eased her pussy hole onto the head of his cock.

  “Rust, take me, like you always do. It’s me . . . your Kate.”

  She lowered her hips.

  “Uhhh,” she couldn’t help crying out as he entered her, pushing apart her pussy walls until his cock was embedded deeply in her.

  Here she was, in an unaccustomed position. He usually liked to take her from behind or in the missionary position – always dominant, always in control. But now, she was on top. She was in control of how deeply and quickly he penetrated her.

  And she wanted him. Her entire body ached for him. She savored the feel of his flesh within her slick, wet tunnel.

  “I love you,” she kept murmuring. “Remember that. Come back to me . . . please.”

  She held on to his shoulders for leverage as she pumped her hips up and down against his. She rocked herself against him in a variety of movements – up, down, back, forth, grinding and rotating. His hands clasped her waist, her sides, her breasts, her hair.

  His eyes stared at her face. His lips formed a word. She thought it was Kate, but she couldn’t be sure.

  She needed to do this. She needed to meld her body against his until he remembered . . . or his body remembered this. Remembered her.

  She pumped him until his face was flushed and his breathing grew more ragged.

  “Come for me, Rust,” she panted.

  It took two whole minutes more of pumping before he could do so. His semen shot into her, as hot and plentiful as always. In that, he hadn’t changed. The rush of life-giving sperm filled her womb and her mind with satiety and pleasure. She hadn’t climaxed, but that was all right. She wanted to do this for him this time – it was not about taking her own pleasure.

  It was blissful. For the past few days, she had thought that she would never experience his semen inside her body again.

  Rust sank back into his pillow, satisfied. The hair on his forehead was damp. He was still studying her face, although the confusion on it had not abated.

  She gently tucked the hair away from his face as she eased his leaking cock out of her pussy.

  “It’s OK, Rust. You will remember me. Slowly. I’m not that easy to get rid of. I love you, and I’ll make you remember you love me too.”

  She arranged them both so they were side by side on the bed. He closed his eyes, and from his breathing, she could tell that he had fallen asleep.

  If only it were that easy for her to sleep.

  16

  Rita Cunningham got the phone call before the incident even happened, as the best investigative reporters often did.

  “They’re going to arrest Rust O’Brien,” said her informer.

  Her pulse leaped.

  What she had seen at Aaron Mitchell’s estate played very clearly in her mind. The thing was . . . what was she going to do about it?

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m on to it.”

  She grabbed her jacket and her purse.

  And also her handgun.

  17

  There was a wall of darkness around him, one that was not made of brick or steel but a cloudy vapor of some sort. Rust could not grasp it in his hands, but he could not break out of it either. He hurled himself into it endlessly, and yet escape eluded him. He neither felt warmth nor cold, and he was not sure he could experience normal sensations through his entire body.

  The beast!

  The beast that was a part of him was trapped behind that wall. It was like excising an organ from him. An organ that was part of his brain and his soul. Without it, he felt stunted, deformed, confused – as though he had been lobotimized. The beast was a cancer which consumed him, and yet it had nourished him, sustained him.

  And now he was lost and bereft without it.

  Had he made a terrible mistake?

  But the beast was lethal. It was making you into something less than civilized. It was making you a killer.

  I don’t know about that.

  You don’t know that you didn’t kill Teddy Mitchell either. But you do know that you were on the verge of tearing Kate apart.

  Kate!

  His beloved Kate.

  He loved her. It was predominantly her that he had done this for – so that he would no longer be driven by his lust to possess her and mate with her and rip her from limb to limb.

  This was a good thing.

  But now he was lost. A wanderer in the dark fugue of his mind. He hadn’t counted on being lost. He had counted on being cured.

  Maybe it took a few more times. He might as well be an inmate at Bellevue for as long as it took him to be cured. If he ever got cured.

  Sometimes, he heard voices in that dark tunnel. He thought he heard his father’s voice. And his mother’s. But most of all, he thought he heard Kate.

  “I love you,” she said, and the sound of that filtered through the fugue and expanded his soul.

  “I love you too, Kate,” he tried to say, but he didn’t think she heard him. He wasn’t sure she was really there either. After all, hadn’t he pushed her away for her own good? “I love you. I have loved you for a long time. But I didn’t know it. I didn’t recognize if for what it was. I’m sorry I failed you, Kate. I don’t deserve you. I’m weak now. I can’t protect you.”

  At least he had done one thing right. He had protected her from himself.

  But still, he clawed through the walls to reach her voice. Or at least, he tried to claw through them. Was she there or had she long returned to campus to forget she ever knew him? Was he chasing a fragment of his dream?

  18

  When Connor O’Brien opened the door to Lance Horner and Geraldine Brickford, Lance flashed the warrant before him.

  “Is your son at home, Dr. O’Brien?”

  Connor stared at the warrant.

  “Yes,” he said. “But he’s not in a fully coherent state of mind.”

  “So I heard,” Lance said. “He was at Bellevue Hospital for the Criminally Insane a few days ago . . . as your patient.” He paused. “Why did you admit him, Dr. O’Brien?”

  Connor hesitated. “He suffered post-traumatic stress from his recent resignation. He was having trouble sleeping. I admitted him for a day for some psychological tests and prescribed him some drugs to help him sleep.”

  “If he pleads not guilty, his case would go to trial and the prosecution will ask for his case records, though I suppose you’d already thought of that.”

  “I didn’t think my son would be arrested for circumstantial evidence.”

  “His pubic hair was found on the murder victim at the scene of the crime. It will be up to his defense lawyers to prove that it is indeed circumstantial.” Lance stepped in through the doorway. “Now, I’ll have to insist you show me where he is.”

  “Wait, you can’t,” Connor said, holding up his hands. “He’s not . . . well. Please.”

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry, Dr. O’Brien, I’m going to ask you to step aside.” Lance looked up and saw Kate Penney on the stairway, looking alarmed.

  “Are you going to arrest Rust?” she said in a frightened voice.

  “Yes, Ms. Penney.” Lance started up the stairs, Geraldine in tow.

  “But he’s not well.” Kate blocked the stairway with as much of her diminishing bulk as she could.

  “So I’ve heard. If he isn’t well, then he should be in a hospital. As long as he isn’t in a hospital, as certified by an independent court-appointed doctor or psychiatrist, then I have reason enough to arrest him.” Lance smiled pleasantly.

  Connor and Kate exchanged glances.

  19

  Kate sat beside Rust’s bedside. He was manacled to the hospital bed, an indignity suffered by all prisoners in a public hospital.

  “Procedures,” Detective Lance had insisted. “We’ve had prisoners escape from hospitals before.”

  Kate didn’t doubt that. But she doubted that it would be easy to get Rust out of this. The hospital door had a window on it, and outside the door, there was an armed guard. She was searched every day before she was allowed into the room.

  Oh Rust, I want to believe you didn’t do it.

  How did one plead ‘not guilty’ to a case like this?

  I’m sorry, Your Honor, but my client is not guilty by reasons of insanity in the throes of metamorphosis. Yes, he was literally not himself when he committed those crimes.

  Connor and Moira were getting Rust the best shifter defense lawyers now. But Kate suspected their defense would be built upon a lie to protect the shifter community from exposure. Lies layered upon lies.

  At least, Rust had never lied to her. Or so she convinced herself.

  “Rust?” she said to him.

  He turned, and his eyes focused on her. Her heart leaped. He was getting better. The more she made love to him and told him she loved him, the more he seemed to respond. There was light at the end of this tunnel.

  But once he got better (“and he will get better,” Lance Horner predicted), it was off to jail and to the court to be charged. What kind of bail would they set for someone like Rust O’Brien on a charge of Murder One? A million dollars? Two million dollars? Kate’s mind reeled with a world she was not accustomed to.

  She had only one pressing goal now. Make Rust better. The rest, she will have to make it up as she went along.

  What if he still rejected her once he got better? Her chest quailed to think of it. After all we’ve been through. After everything –

  No. She couldn’t think of such things. Better she focus on what she was about to do.

  The room door was closed but not locked. She was very well aware of the guard outside, probably listening in to everything that was being said in this room.

  Did she care?

  “Rust, I love you,” she said.

  His eyes held a flicker of understanding, and her heart leaped. She was so close to making a breakthrough with him. She didn’t know if there was any scientific basis to her love, but it seemed to be helping Rust. So Connor had spoken to the court appointed doctors to let her stay with him.

  Rust struggled against his manacles.

  She got onto the bed. She was wearing a skirt, and she threw a quick look at the door before she slid off her panties. Rust was wearing a hospital gown with nothing underneath. She lifted the gown. His cock was limp.

  “Rust.” She seized his cock and massaged it.

  He responded immediately. In this, he was still the Rust he knew – virile and always ready to fuck at a moment’s notice.

  She gripped his flesh hard, mindful that the guard could come in at any time, and pumped it up and down. His soft rod quickly grew hard under her expert touch. She debated whether or not to give him a blow job but decided there was not enough time. Besides, she wanted to speak to him.

  “Rust? Do you remember the time we met? I was so scared when Thomas tried to have his way with me, but you were there for me. Remember how you took me into that room? Remember how you tied me up and fucked me?”

  Rust grunted as she squeezed the head of his cock.

  “From then on,” she said, “I wanted you. I wanted only you. But it was never about just the sex. I fell in love with you. You are the most amazing, talented, brilliant man I’ve ever met. I fell in love with your mind, body and soul.”

  She lifted her hips and stripped her panties off. Then she eased herself down on his erect cock. Rust pulled in a deep breath as her pussy encased his cock.

  “I would follow you to the ends of the Earth,” she assured him. His cock was nicely embedded in her tight pussy. It was always so gratifying to have him inside her, as close as they could be. Lovers, friends, confidantes. She wanted to be everything and anything to him.

  She moved again in her position of control.

  “Rust, look at me.” She grabbed hold of his face so that his eyes were focused on her. “I love you. I love you.”

  She rode him. She rode him frenetically, desperately, fiercely.

  “Come back to me, Rust. It’s Kate. Your Kate. I love you.”

  She kept repeating permutations of this. The bed creaked. He could not hold her with his right hand because his wrist was chained to the bed, but his left hand grabbed her tits. She was glad he was not connected to a heart monitor because she was sure both their heart rates were going up erratically.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” said a voice from behind her.

  Oh shit. It was the guard. She was well aware that her skirt was hiked up to her waist and her buttocks were showing.

  She turned her head. “Please . . . just leave us. We just need a minute more. This is therapy.”

  The guard stared. She did not abate her fucking.

  “Please,” she cried.

  “Five more minutes, and I’ll call the nurse,” he threatened.

  “Thank you!”

  She swiveled her head back to Rust, marveling at her boldness. But to get Rust back, she would do anything.

  She increased her humping movements. His cock was buried deep inside her, and she squeezed her pussy walls to compress his hot, tender flesh. She bucked her hips to make a triangular movement. His balls grazed the space between her pussy and asshole, and it was an intense, erotic sensation.

  Rust’s breathing escalated.

  “Come on,” she whispered. She needed to hurry.

  He did not disappoint her. His balls contracted and he jettisoned his sperm into her.

  “Ohhh,” she moaned.

  Rust sank back into his pillow. He was breathing very heavily. There was a strange spark in his eyes.

  “God, I love you,” she said.

  The emerald spark changed into something more focused. She stared into his eyes, marveling at their beauty.

  He blinked, breaking the spell.

  “Kate?” he whispered.

  She was thunderstruck.

  “Rust?”

  And then his eyes dimmed again and the curtain descended.

  “No, please . . . Rust, you are in there. Please, I know you are. Wake up! It’s me, Kate.”

  The door behind her swung open.

  “Ms? I must insist you stop doing that.”

  “Wait! I’ve got him! He spoke to me. Just give a couple more minutes, please!” She was desperate now.

  The nurse strode into the room. “Get off, or I’m going to have you physically removed from this room.”

  This was bordering on the ridiculous. “Just give me a moment to get myself together. Please?” She turned a beseeching look at the nurse.

  “You have one minute,” the nurse thundered.

  The guard smirked from the doorway. He was certainly getting an eyeful.

  “Let her get cleaned up,” the nurse told him. “Then she’s out of here.”

  Kate hastily got off Rust. She put her panties back on and smoothed her skirt.

  “Rust?” she said urgently, seizing his face in her hands. �
�I know you remember me. Please, try to focus. I love you.”

  His clouded green eyes gazed at her.

  “Kate?” he said with more conviction.

  Her spirits leaped. “Oh my God. You’re OK! You’re back! You’re really back!”

  The nurse swung the door open again. “Your one minute is up.”

  Don’t be such a bitch, Kate wanted to tell her. But she cried, “He spoke to me! Please, get the doctor. He’s going to be OK!”

  And then she thought of the charges Rust was facing, and the light bulb inside her dimmed again. Maybe things would never again be OK.

  *

  It was six hours later. Connor flicked off the penlight he was shining into Rust’s eyes. Kate and Moira were seated at his bedside.

  “What was the last thing you remember, Rust?”

  Rust blinked.

  “There was a party,” he said slowly. “Kate. I took Kate to the party.”

  “What party was that?”

  “Aaron Mitchell’s.”

  “Very good. Do you remember what happened in it?”

  Rust went into a confused silence.

  “No.”

  “It’s OK. It’s the ECT. It blocks out a lot of memories. How do you feel?”

  “Fuzzy.”

  “How about the rage in you? You feel it?”

  Rust paused for a moment. “No.”

  “How do you feel?” Moira said carefully.

  “Like something’s been torn from me.” Rust said this in a flat voice.

  Kate’s heart clenched.

  Rust said, “But you will fill me in why that is so, correct?” He furrowed his brow. “I know I’ve lost a lot of time, and there are pieces of those memories . . . swarming inside my brain. I know I did something terrible.” He pulled at his manacle. “Or you wouldn’t have put these on me.”

  Connor said, “We didn’t put those on you, Rust.”

  “Then who did?” Rust demanded.

  With every word he said, Kate could see that his confidence and possession of self was gaining. But he still hasn’t said he loved me. Did he even remember what she said to him?