The Alpha Men's Secret Club: A Scorchingly Hot BBW Shifter Romance

THE ALPHA MEN’S SECRET CLUB

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

1

She couldn’t concentrate with him
on the podium.

There he was, standing tall and
straight in his dark blue navy jacket and dark trousers. Kate was sitting in
the front row of the lecture hall, as she always did in one of his classes, so
that she could get a good, long look at him for a whole hour. Only one hour was
never enough.

Oh, but he was to die for!

His dark hair was combed into a
widow’s peak, and his eyes were a stunning green. He was rumored to be . . .
what? Thirty-five? Thirty-six? She didn’t care. She liked older men. And this
one seemed to ripen with age. His features were as stunning as the rest of his
body, which she could imagine under his cream-colored shirt. She could also
imagine him wearing his red tie – which he had on now – and with
nothing else on.

Was that a spool of desire
uncurling between her legs? She squirmed and adjusted her buttocks in her seat.
She could make herself cum by just crossing her legs and compressing that
quivering little nub between her thighs.

Ooooooooo
.

Imagine . . . she was
half-masturbating in class to Professor Rust O’Brien’s deep voice and the very
spectacle of his full lecture glory.

The screen behind him displayed something
about Jungian philosophy, but it was all mumbo-jumbo to her. She only took his
class so that she could get an eyeful of him. Plenty of the other girls did
too. The very real possibility of flunking it also slid through her mind and
was immediately gone as he turned to the screen to detail something on the
slide.

Why was his profile so fine? Why
was his nose so chiseled and why were his moving lips just waiting to be
ravaged . . . by her mouth?

I want him.

I will never have him.

He will never look at me.

I’m fat.

I’m not that pretty like the
other girls.

I can only dream.

Oh fuck.

That was her lot in life, wasn’t
it? She could only dream about guys like Professor O’Brien. Anyway, she was
sure he had a girlfriend. He definitely wasn’t married, the last time she
checked with the other girls. Guys like him always had a bevy of slim,
beautiful blondes hanging from every limb and appendage.

Speaking of appendages, her mind
took a wild turn. Her pussy throbbed. She squirmed in her seat again.

She had it bad.

She was too absorbed in her own
private peep show, fortified with vivid imagery, to look at the other girls
around her. But she was aware that they were also similarly transfixed. She
remembered everything she heard about the Professor.

“He’s ice cold, man. That guy’s
got icicles in his veins.”

“He’s a killer when it comes to
grading papers.”

“I hear he works out at Gold’s
Gym with a trainer and has a body to die for.”

“He doesn’t remember the names of
students. He makes it a point not to.”

“Nah, I just heard it’s just for
the sophomores. He remembers the seniors.”

“He doesn’t remember the seniors
either, so don’t kid yourself.”

“He makes his grad students weep
because he’s so detailed.”

 “You mean he’s anal?”

“Well, we won’t know about that.”
Suggestively. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

The next Powerpoint slide showed:

‘ASSIGNMENT:

1.
    
Read
Chapter Three of ‘Jungian Theory’

2.
    
Write a 1500-word
essay.’

One thousand five hundred words?
That was probably the whole chapter itself! Fuck. And she hadn’t been listening
to a word he had been saying.

Her cheeks flaming, she stood up,
pushing her foldable desk away. Clattering sounds of shoes on the floor echoed
through the lecture hall as the students got up and made their way to the
aisles. Several students, mostly females, approached the lectern. Kate hung at
the edges of this crowd, as she always did. Unnoticed.

“Professor, I have a question to
ask you.”

He was shuffling his papers and
putting them into his laptop bag. “Shoot.”

The speaker was Carlo Estez.
Cuban. Olive-skinned. Almost as handsome as the Professor in his own dark, mysterious
way. Carlo was known to be a brilliant student who always scored ‘As’ in all
his classes. Damn him.

Carlo said, “Why do you think
Jung said that a neurosis is a significant unresolved tension between
contending attitudes? Neuroses are now known to have biochemical origins in the
human brain.”

“You’ll have to read Chapter
Three to find out,” the Professor replied. He didn’t smile. “And I’d expect to
see your hypothesis in your essay.”

Carlo grinned. “You’ll have it,
Professor.”

“Professor.” This time, it was Fiona
Montgomery. Tall, model-like, whip-thin and blonde. Also known as the sophomore
slut. As he grabbed his bag, she touched his arm.

He stopped and glared at her hand
upon his arm.

“Yes?” His tone was dripping with
acid. It clearly said,
You’re encroaching on my personal space.

A hush descended upon the
gathered throng around him.

Fiona was relentless. She did not
take her expertly manicured hand off his arm.

“Phi Kappa Beta Sorority is having
a Psych night next Tuesday,” she said. “I’m the President, naturally. I was
wondering if you would consider giving us a lecture on ‘Managing Libidos’.”

There were a few titters. Kate
was shocked. That was a double entrende if there was one. No one spoke like
that to the Professor. No one! Everyone there held their collective breaths to
hear what he would say.

The Professor took his time. His
vivid green eyes were razor sharp as they raked Fiona’s pretty, elfin face. She
lifted her chest suggestively, displaying her very obvious cleavage in her
tight wraparound dress.

Then he lifted his forearm with
her hand still clinging on to it and gave it a twist.

“I’ll be occupied next Tuesday,”
he said with a condescending smile. He stepped off the podium and walked away
towards the exit.

Carlo Estez guffawed.

“He nailed you all right,” he
told Fiona. “Not in the way you want him to, apparently.”

“Shut up,” she said, grabbing her
notes and stalking off.

The throng dispersed amid a
smattering of chatter and more titters. Kate slinked off, feeling glummer than
she had a right to.

If someone as attractive as Fiona
Montgomery couldn’t elicit even a sliver of interest – disguised or otherwise
– from Rust O’Brien, where did that leave someone like Kate Penney?

2

“You’re not fat.”

“I am fat.”

“Oh stop. You’re not. You just
think you’re fat, but what you are is slightly plump in a pleasing way. Curvy,
I think they call it.”

Kate glanced down at her large
tits and bulging midline.

“OK. Curvy it is,” she said.

“Big, Bad and Beautiful. Though
in my case, it’s Big, Baddest, Black and Beautiful.”

They both burst out laughing.
Michaela was Kate’s roommate since freshman year and they had been best friends
like forever. Michaela was African American and even bigger than Kate, but made
no apologies about it.

“If someone can’t handle this
Mama, it’s his loss,” she declared.

The beauty about all this was
that a lot of guys were crazy for Michaela. Maybe it was her sharp wit and
equally sharp tongue, but she exuded a bustling confidence that Kate envied. Michaela
was the type of girl to let it all hang out, be damned the consequences.

“So that slut Fiona was trying to
her hooks into that fine Professor’s pants, was she now?” Michaela said.

“You should have seen her. She
was practically panting with heat.”

“I’ve heard things about the
Perfesser
.”
Michaela nodded knowingly.

“Who from? Gilligan?” Kate
settled on her tummy in her bed and propped up her chin with her elbows.

“No, silly. From Stacey Stack,
his PA. She goes to Glenn’s after work, and guess who’s the best barista at
Glenn’s?”

Kate’s finger darted in the air
and traced an imaginary circle.

“Lessee,” she said, “that would
be – ” her finger made a zigzag to point straight at Michaela “ –
your evil twin?”

“You’re asking for it, girl. Now
here’s the lowdown. Do you want to listen or not?”

“Of course.” Not that she had a
hope in hell with the Professor, who had ice in his veins apparently. But it
was still nice to fantasize and speculate.

Michaela sat on her bed and
crossed her legs. She was amazingly lithe for a big girl because she did Hatha
Yoga twice a week. “Stacey says the Perfesser is – ”

“Gay?”

“Are you gonna shut yer yap or
not?”

“I’ll be good.” Kate made a
zipping sound as she dragged her finger across her lips.

“Stacey says the Perfesser is not
into socializing. In fact, he’s hardly seen in the bars outside campus. He just
comes to work, does his job . . . very well, I might add . . . and goes home.”

“Where is home?”

“He doesn’t live in the campus
housing, apparently, but has his own penthouse . . . get this,
penthouse
. . . ” Michaela paused for effect “ . . . on Hartford Avenue.”

“Hartford Avenue? Isn’t that ‘H’
for swank?”

“Color me swanky, whatever that
color is. The Perfesser doesn’t talk much about himself and doesn’t have
personal family photos in his office. He’s quite the enigma.”

“Is she sure he’s not gay?”

“He’s very masculine, for sure,
but she’s absolutely certain he isn’t.” Michaela winked. “You never know about
these masculine types. One moment, they’re grabbing their own jock straps in
the shower room and the next they’re bending over to pick up the soap and
squealing ‘Fuck me in the ass, fuck me’. Anyway, she said she found this card
in his jacket once.”

Kate opened her mouth in mock
horror. “She’s snooping in his clothes like a suspicious wife?”

“No, silly. I asked her the same
thing myself. She knocked his jacket off the hook and the card fell out.”

Kate was convinced Stacey Stack,
who was fifty if she had seen a day, was snooping, but anyway –

“And you know what the card
said?” Michaela said triumphantly.

“You have it?”

Michaela twisted her features in
exasperation. “Girl, I swear I’m going to deck you if you interrupt me one more
time. Of course I don’t have it. Neither does Stacey. She’s real careful, that
one. You have to be if you want to keep your job in the faculty around the
Perfesser. But she read what’s on the card before she put it back.”

Kate was enjoying herself. Both
her legs were bent at the knees and swaying back and forth above the bed.

Michaela said, “Well, aren’t you
gonna ask me what’s on the card?”

“You told me not to interrupt.”

“That I did. Damn, girl. Anyhow,
the card was embossed with gold lettering. The swanky kind. And the letters
said:

THE ALPHA MEN’S CLUB.”

Kate frowned.

“That’s it?” she said. “The Alpha
Men’s Club? That’s supposed to mean he’s not gay?”

“This has nothing to do with him
being gay or not. Plenty of gay men are alphas. The fact is . . . he’s a member
of a club. A mysterious club.”

“Why is it mysterious?”

“Because it doesn’t show up on
Google Search. I tried, and I get a big fat zero.”

“Not every club advertises itself
on the Internet.”

“Most clubs do, even gentlemen
ones. This one doesn’t appear, which means they want to keep themselves under
the radar. Now why would they want to do that?”

Kate racked her brains to think why.
She must admit that she was intrigued. “Cover for secret agency?”

“You’ve been watching too many
Daniel Craig movies. More like it’s a secret
men’s
club.” Michaela
winked. “You know . . . the type where high class hookers gather and show off
their wares.”

“He hires hookers? Why does he
have to? He’s gorgeous.”

“Maybe he has certain tastes that
only hookers can satisfy.”

Kate felt her core moisten. It
was quite a thrill to fantasize about Rust O’Brien’s naked body entwined with a
hooker. Who was most incorrigibly slim and beautiful, of course.

“Anyway,” Michaela said, “I have
the address.”

“What?”

“You heard me, girl. Stacey cribbed
the address on the card and the phone number, of course, before she put it
back.”

“Why would she do a thing like
that?”

“Because she’s got a thing for
her boss too, like half the females on campus. And because we are all mighty
curious as to his activities, you know.”

“So what’s she gonna do?” Kate
wondered. “Stalk him?”

Michaela beamed. “No, sweetie.
She’s not going to stalk him.
We
are.”