The Alpha Men's Secret Club 5: Final Capture: A Shockingly Hot BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance (5 page)

11

Alyssa’s eyes were rooted to the monitor.

She knew that the participants in the room knew that she was watching them, and that they didn’t care. She admired them for it, and at the same time, she envied them. In particular, Kate Penney.

“That was hot,” her colleague, Dan, said. His eyes were just as glued to the monitors.

She stole a look at his crotch. His penis was tenting his pants all right.

Rust, oh Rust.

Her own breasts were engorged and her pussy was creaming just to take in that spectacle. From their vantage, Rust was fucking Kate, who lay sideways with her ankles tied together. Alyssa had never seen anything like it before. Her sex life was almost non-existent these days. And what unfolded before them was not porn because the connection between the two people in the room was so palpable, so desperate.

This is what it must be to love and to lust.

She knew now that she wanted Rust. Wanted him like she had never wanted any man before.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Very hot.”

But he was Kate Penney’s. He would never be hers.

Dan wiped the sweat which beaded his brow.

“I’m gonna . . . uh, take a break right now. You’re recording this, right?”

“Right.”

The bulge at his trousers was very prominent as he bolted out of the observation room. She was lucky that female arousal was less obvious. Because she was aroused. Very, very aroused indeed. She could well imagine Rust trying her ankles together like that and fucking her from behind. She could almost feel his large cock inside her own pussy now.

Stop it! You have to be impartial!

There was once, in Pakistan, she had been attracted to one of the detainees. At that time, the CIA had a free rein on torture. The detainee was a man named Sayid, and he was very attractive in an Arabian sheikh way. In fact, his family was oil-rich, but he chose to join a terrorist faction early on and forsake his inheritance.

They tortured Sayid daily with sleep deprivation and water-boarding until he cracked and revealed the names of the top three militants. After that, he was given food and a hot shower.

She watched him eat from across the table.

“See what I mean?” she said. “I am your friend.”

As long as you give me what I want.

He was really a very handsome man. He had long eyelashes which curled upward and he had black, lustrous hair which was shoulder-length.

He said, “I can never go back out there. They know you have me.”

“You can stay right here. We will take you back to America with us.”

“To where? Guantanomo Bay?”

“That’s not true. You are free to go anywhere.”

And be our informant while having an Al-Qaeda contract on your head.

They talked some more. About America. About Saudi Arabia, where he was from. About his family and their expectations of him. And she realized they were no different actually, for all their differences in culture and beliefs and religion. They still had the same dreams (“to be someone on my own”) and longed for freedom for their respective constraints.

Maybe they had too much celebratory wine, because she ended up having a look at his scars – each with a story attached to it – and they ended up in bed.

Her bed.

He was an amazing lover. Creative. Robust. He fucked her in all sorts of positions, but he didn’t want to lick her pussy. It was beneath him to lick a woman, he claimed. A family quirk.

As he was fucking her, he gazed into her eyes.

“I knew you wanted me from the beginning,” he said in his Oxford accent.

“You wanted me too. I saw it.”

She knew what she was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong, but he was technically not their prisoner anymore.

“I like you,” he said.

She didn’t say anything in reply, but his cock was very nice inside her, and it had been too long since she had someone’s cock.

Then he closed his hands around her neck.

“That’s why I’m sorry I have to do this,” he said with true regret in his eyes.

He squeezed.

With the air literally choked out of her windpipe, green zigzags began to appear before her eyes. Her first instinct was to beat at his chest and shoulders with her fists, but she was better than that. She was a trained operative.

She brought her knee up sharply in between his legs. Then she pushed him with all her might. His grip loosened around her neck, and she was able to clamber away. Although her brain was deprived of oxygen, she reached for the gun she always had in her bedside drawer.

She aimed it at him.

He did not raise his hands.

“Shoot me,” he said. He lifted his chin proudly and proffered her his chest. He still had an erection. “There’s no future out there for me anyway. They won’t let me live.”

“OK,” she said.

She pulled the trigger. The bullet sang and embedded itself into his chest.

She would say he broke out and came to her room later and tried to kill her. Which was partially true.

Her need for Rust O’Brien brought back that painful memory, and it was as if she relived every moment of that betrayal. She had to remember that Rust O’Brien was no different from any other detainee. She had to fight this – her desire for him.

Dan came in again. He must have had a swift hand job.

“Alyssa,” he said, “you have to see this.”

He turned on the news channel.

Rita Cunningham appeared on CNN. The woman had undergone a drastic transformation since she won the Pulitzer.

“Is that Rita Cunningham?” Dan said.

Which was unnecessary since the teletype clearly showed ‘RITA CUNNINGHAM, INDEPENDENT JOURNALIST’ below the teleplay.

The anchorman was saying, “So what do you think the FBI should do?”

Rita said, “Show proof that Rust O’Brien and his parents are still alive. We’re still a free country, I’d like to think. Rust, Moira and Connor O’Brien have been detained by our government without trial for more than a month.”

Cut screen to a family photo of Moira and Connor when they were younger, together with Rust as a pre-teen. They were a great-looking, all American family. Alyssa knew that Rita had that photo personally chosen to incite empathy from the public.

“So Rust is a shifter. So they are putting him through experiments,” Rita said. “But what sort of experiments? Even chimpanzees have rights when they turn into lab animals. When I exposed Rust O’Brien to the world, I fully intend him to be treated with dignity. He is a human being, by all appearances, and he has done nothing wrong. He simply
is
who he is, just like if you are born Jewish, or without legs, or LGBT. Which by the way stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered, for the uninitiated.”

She paused significantly.

“What exactly do you want the FBI to do for the O’Brien family?” the anchorman said.

“I want the FBI and our
President
to show us the O’Brien family in the flesh. Are our government agencies still in the habit of torturing and humiliating detainees like we have seen in Abu-Ghraib? I would like to think that we Americans have progressed. The O’Briens have not conducted acts of terrorism against our country. In fact, the three of them have been upstanding contributors to our community.

“Connor O’Brien is a psychiatrist at the Bellevue Hospital for the criminally insane, and we all know that is a thankless job. Moira O’Brien is a psychiatrist and a psychologist with a very large New York practice. Rust O’Brien is a professor of psychology and he once served at Bellevue with his father. The O’Brien family has been part of charities and causes and foundations – including that for autism, mental disorders and Alzheimer’s disease.”

Rita gazed up at the camera.

“I want to see Rust O’Brien. I want to know he’s safe and sound. I was the one who unmasked him, and it is my patriotic and moral duty to ensure his wellbeing as well of that of his parents – just as it was my patriotic and moral duty to unmask him to the world. He is still contributing to our society by willingly becoming a test subject.”

“You bring up many points,” the anchorman conceded. “At this stage, the FBI has no comment.”

“We want to see the O’Briens,” Rita concluded. “If the FBI has done nothing wrong to them, then show us the O’Briens.”

Behind her, the screen showed a large crowd outside Times Square with signs and placards with:

‘SHOW US THE O’BRIENS’

‘NO MORE TORTURE’

‘OUR GOVERNMENT GIVES AMERICA A BAD NAME’

and even

‘SHIFTERS WELCOME IN USA’.

Alyssa was astounded.

How had Rita Cunningham managed to wrangle public support in such a short period of time? Or had she been planning this all along?

“What are we going to do?” Dan said.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to discuss this with the Director.”

12

Kate wished she could tell Rust about what she had done with Rita Cunningham, but she didn’t dare.

She wrote on a notepad:

CAN I WRITE YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT? I WILL DESTROY THIS NOTE ONCE YOU READ IT.

He looked up at the ceiling and shielded her with his body.

He wrote back:

DON’T RISK IT.

She nodded understandingly. There was so much she needed to tell him. So much she wanted to talk to him about.

“What did they do to you today?” he asked casually.

“We did an ultrasound.”

It was strange, she thought, that the baby’s daddy wasn’t present. If they had been in a real obstetrician’s clinic, Rust would have been there, she was sure.

“And?”

She smiled.

“It’s a baby. A healthy baby.”

His eyes lighted up. “Boy or girl?”

“I won’t tell.”

“You won’t tell me?”

“It’s meant to be a surprise.”

“So . . . I’m going to have to tickle it out of you?”

He started tickling her. She giggled and squirmed, but he caught her. They ended up on the bed, laughing.

He rolled over her and gently cradled her belly.

“I’m going to make a wild guess.”

“OK,” she said eagerly.

“Boy.”

She laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

“It’s a boy? Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s perfectly – ?”

“Human . . . for the moment.” She paused. “But there’s something else.”

“What?”

“They want me to consent for an amniocentesis.”

He thought about it for a while. She remembered that he too had medical training.

“You do know what that is, right?” he said.

“They explained it to me. They want to extract my amniotic fluid to study the cells floating there . . . to do chromosomal analysis of the baby.” Her voice shook.

He said, “Amniocentesis is far more accurate than ultrasound. The risks are less than 1%.”

“They told me about the risks too. What do you think? Should I consent?”

She envisioned them putting in a fine needle through her abdomen, piercing the wall of her uterus right into the amniotic sac. She shuddered.

“The risks are very minimal.” His expression was torn. “The baby . . . I hope he’s all right.”

“I hope so too.” She wanted to ask him about shifter babies, but then that would be implying there were other shifter babies and he was not an anomaly. “What did they do to you today?”

“Took more DNA for chromosomal analysis.”

“From your cheek?”

She was always afraid they would take it from some internal organ. But he wore no biopsy scars.

Yet.

“Yes. Then they sent me through an MRI for a total body scan.”

“Did it reveal anything . . . unusual?”

“No. I’m perfectly human . . . in this state.” He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “Life is fleeting.”

Her mouth dried. She knew exactly why he said that.

“Yes, it is.”

“We should make love again. Make the best of our time together.”

“Yes.” Her heart beat a little faster.

He grinned. It was a very sly grin.

He said, “Shall we involve Alyssa?”

Her mouth dropped in surprise.

“Huh?”

13

“We don’t bow to public pressure. You know that, Foley.”

“But sir – ”

The Director stared at Alyssa from the screen.

“Yes, sir,” she said contritely. “However, in this case, I feel that we should at least issue a statement.”

“I will make the decision, Foley.”

Yes, but when? she thought. A disquiet gnawed at her. She sensed that this thing with Rita Cunningham wasn’t about to go away.

As she left her office, she whipped out her cellphone and saw that she had a missed call.

She dialed it.

“What is it, Dan?”

“Rust O’Brien wants to talk to you. He says it’s private and personal.”

*

“You want what?” Alyssa asked Rust incredulously.

He told her. Of course, she had seen what he was capable of earlier.

He said, “It’s a fair request, seeing as you won’t give me any rope to hang myself with. But has it occurred to you that I could kill myself in many ways you would never have dreamt of?”

She wondered if it was a threat. Then she decided that Rust O’Brien was not the sort of man who would kill himself.

“How?” she said.

“For instance, the bathroom mirror.”

“It’s shatter proof.”

“I have strength beyond a normal human’s. You have seen that.”

Yes, she had.

“And?”

“I didn’t shatter the glass,” he said. “I also didn’t rip my own throat out, a feat I’m perfectly capable of. In either form.”

His green eyes flashed.

Was it disturbing that she found them so intriguing?

She said, “So you want me to watch?”

“Yes. You can be our watchdog. To make sure I don’t kill myself.”

She had to prevent her smile from curling her lips.

He added, “I know you’re already watching.”

She didn’t try to deny it.

She said, “What about Kate? Is she OK with it?”

“It’s not the first time we’ve been watched, and I don’t mean by yourself.”

The implication was obvious. Alyssa remembered his case notes. The rave at Aaron Mitchell’s estate. The one she suspected was a shifter rave.

She said, “Yes, I would be very keen. You do understand the other handlers would be watching as well.”

“Haven’t they always?” he quipped back.

*

The items that Rust requested for were laid out on the bed.

Alyssa was seated in a chair. She was close enough to watch the proceedings and yet distant enough for the couple concerned to be comfortable, if they were at all discomfited – which she doubted.

She thought of the public ruckus Rita Cunningham had created outside. The furor over the perceived maltreatment of the O’Briens was escalating, as was the ‘SHOW US THE O’BRIENS’ campaign. A fact that the couple in this room was blissfully unaware of.

Or were they?

She wondered what sort of game Rust O’Brien was playing where she was concerned. Was he trying to get her to admit that she was attracted to him sexually? But why? He must be the type of man who knew that most women were likely to be sexually attracted to him.

Why her?

Because she held the keys to his prison? Because he could perceive something in her with his enhanced shifter senses?

Whatever he had in mind, she had asked Dan to monitor them. She could protect herself, but Rust O’Brien was a powerful tiger shifter. There had to be guards on standby the whole time.

The whole situation was bizarre . . . and extremely sexual. But she had agreed to it because she was curious.

Neither Rust nor Kate seemed embarrassed or self-conscious. Well, maybe Kate more than Rust. But not overtly.

Both of them began to undress. Rust wasn’t wearing much to begin with. He had a very sexual, very confident and very predatory air about him. He moved with surety and precision. Kate was a little hesitant at first, but then she got into the groove of things because her boyfriend radiated such confidence. He treated her with such reverence and care, and his eyes burned with such desire and love.

Alyssa envied Kate. She had never envied many women before, but she envied Kate like no other right now, and it was not a good place to be.

Soon, they were both naked. Their eyes were on each other. It was almost as though they had forgotten she was in the room or even in their plane of existence. Either that, or they didn’t care.

Kate had a plump, voluptuous body, Alyssa noted. Funny, but she had pegged Rust to be choosier about whom he wanted as a girlfriend. Kate didn’t strike her as the type, but you never know about these things. Kate had huge breasts and very striking areolas – no doubt enhanced by her pregnancy. Her lower abdomen was obviously swollen and getting bigger every day.

As for Rust, Alyssa had seen Rust naked before many times. But there was something about his body up close. Something about the way Kate brought out the shine on his skin and the flush in his cheeks that Alyssa hadn’t seen on the monitors. There was a difference in watching porn on a TV screen and porn up close.

Only it wasn’t porn she was watching.

It was two people making love.

“You OK?” Rust asked Kate as he gently ran his hands down the slope of her belly.

“I’m OK.”

He picked up the leather strap.

“You OK if I put this on you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He turned her around and gently tied her wrists with the band.

“Comfy?”

“Yes.”

He reached for the nipple clamps. He had requested for ones with fur-lined pads so they wouldn’t chafe Kate’s precious, swollen nipples.

Very thoughtful, Alyssa thought with a hint of snark. Frankly, she wasn’t surprised at all that Rust O’Brien was into bondage. Just how deep was he into the BDSM scene? He might be going gentle now that his girlfriend was pregnant. Alyssa herself was not into BDSM, or indeed, into any kind of relationship. But it didn’t matter, because she was not a participant here.

Rust clamped each of Kate’s nipples. Kate hardly reacted. She must be used to it.

The clamps were connected to an interlocking chain. The chain dangled in a ‘U’ all the way down to her belly button.

Rust’s cock was very hard. He stroked it a few times.

“Suck me,” he breathed.

Kate got on her knees like an obedient lover. Alyssa had always found fellatio demeaning. She had a mother who didn’t want have anything to do with a man after her father left them when she was five. She only very occasionally succumbed to it, but she didn’t care for it in general.

“Don’t ever get down on your knees for any man, Lyssie,” her mother had always told her.

And here was Kate, down on her knees. Opening her mouth. Expediently. Obediently. Lovingly. Giving pleasure.

With a twist.

Rust seized the chain in between her nipples and lifted it. He placed it upon his rigid cock. And then he inserted his cock into Kate’s open mouth.

His erection strained the chain, pulling it taut – and with that, pulling up the clamps on Kate’s nipples. Kate’s nipples were stretched and her entire mounds lifted with it.

Alyssa held her breath.

Kate took Rust’s cock into her mouth and sucked it lovingly. There was dual pressure on the lovers. Rust must surely feel the downward strain of the chain on his cock as it threatened to pull his erection towards the floor. The strain on Kate’s nipples and breasts was obvious.

And yet the fellatio continued. Unabated. Intensified. Alyssa could see Kate’s cheeks bulging as she worked Rust’s cock. Rust’s breathing quickened. The chain bobbed, tugging Kate’s nipples with it. Her nipples were becoming red.

Alyssa felt a smoldering curl between her legs. She crossed them quickly. From the spooling of her own pussy creams, she knew that she was aroused.

Would Dan pick that up on the monitor?

Kate licked Rust’s cock, and then put it deep into her mouth to suck it. The cock was becoming more engorged than before, and therefore more erect. Kate mimicked a fucking movement with her mouth. With each pull of her cheeks, her nipples were tugged upward.

Rust was breathing heavily now. As was Alyssa. Her legs were locked tightly around one another, and she could feel the compression of her clit in this manner. She was going to make herself cum if she wasn’t careful.

The fellatio went on for several minutes. There were sucking noises amid the relative silence of the room. Even the hum of the air-conditioner was not apparent.

Then Rust pulled his cock out of Kate’s mouth. The chain slipped away and fell down in a ‘U’ again.

Kate licked her lips beguilingly.

“Come here,” Rust said.

He pulled her gently upwards onto the bed. She was tied up and restricted. He arranged her so that she was on her knees and her head was on a pillow. Her rotund belly nestled comfortably on two more pillows he stuffed underneath.

He penetrated her swiftly. She cried out. He began to buck his hips. Fast. The bedsprings creaked and groaned with their dissipating weight. Alyssa had a perfect angle of his cock thrusting in and out of Kate’s pussy. The ache between her own legs was becoming worse and worse.

The fucking grew more intense, and after a while, Kate screamed her climax into the air. But Rust still relentlessly pounded her, until she was sobbing mess, clutching the sheets and pillow and begging for mercy.

“Oh, please . . . stop, stop, stop . . . let me catch my breath and rest.”

Rust pulled out, panting. His cock was still erect and covered with pussy juices.

“Ohhh,” Kate moaned as she collapsed into her pillows. Her dark hair was damp upon her forehead.

“You all right, sweetheart?” Rust stroked her hair.

“I’m all right.” Her breathing evened out.

Then she smiled as she turned to Alyssa, her hair spread across her pillow.

Kate purred, “Do you want to join us?”