Special Delivery: Autumn: An Mpreg Romance Collection

by Leyla Hunt

  “Don't worry, you won't regret it. I promise.”

  With that, he proceeded to lick a trail down my body, from my collarbone over my chest, stopping to lick and nibble on each of my nipples in turn.

  “You're torturing me, sweetheart,” I said to him in between moans.

  Without responding, he continued down my body, over my expanding belly, and down to my stiff cock, which he licked from the base to the tip, swirling his tongue around the top and swallowing my precum.

  “Oh my God, Brad!” I took in a sharp breath and grabbed a handful of his hair. My precum leaked steadily but he licked it all up like a good alpha.

  I couldn't take it anymore, and I pulled him off my cock, lifted my legs over my head as far as I could, and spread my ass cheeks.

  “Want a piece of this?” I asked suggestively, knowing he could never resist when I asked him that.

  I was right, because before I knew it, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against my opening, and when he pushed it in, it was with such abandon that I knew this would be it.

  He rocked me back and forth, his balls slapping against my ass as he stretched me wider and wider, our moans and groans growing in intensity and volume, until we both burst forth with simultaneous orgasms. It was the best I could remember. The tender kisses and words afterward were just icing on the cake.

  “I love you so much. I'll take care of you and our little girl forever.” He took my right hand in his and kissed each finger, never breaking eye contact.

  I let out a sigh. “I'm the happiest to omega in the world, and I have you to thank for that. Now give me a kiss.”

  Epilogue

  Jamie

  “Boo!” I said, pulling my hands away from my face. Candace let out a loud giggle and waved her little arms and legs, trying to grab for me.

  I instinctively reached down and lifted her up, pressing her to my chest and inhaling her sweet baby scent. Our Candace. She was sweeter than I could have dreamed. The way she giggled and smiled filled my heart with joy.

  “Come, let’s go outside.” I stood up and carried her to the backyard, where our blanket was still set up on the lush lawn.

  Brad and I had bought the house four months ago, shortly before Candace was born in late spring. I couldn't believe that it's been a year since we met. Time flies when you're having fun, and even faster when you're in love.

  Like most Saturday mornings, Candace and I were home alone because Brad was out meeting with clients, but he was usually back by lunchtime. His business had really taken off and he was doing well.

  My phone rang just as I set Candace down for some tummy time.

  “Hello?”

  To my pleasant surprise, it was a high-end client from one town over, inquiring about a dress for a town event. I made an appointment for her to visit me at the boutique, and after the call I made a note of it in my phone. My business was doing great, as well, thank goodness. Brad had no small part in that, telling all his clients about my new shop every chance he got. I was ecstatic and wouldn't trade my life for anything in the world. Leaving New York had been a risk, but it had paid off, because I was happier than I could have ever imagined.

  I grinned at Candace as she proudly held her head up high, pushing off the blanket with her chubby little arms. She let out a grunt as she pushed up and looked at me with her big blue eyes, as if waiting for praise.

  “Way to go, sweetie!” I cooed, rubbing my thumb along her forearm.

  “Ba ba ba,” she said in her baby language.

  “Yes, ba ba ba ba ba.” I leaned down and kissed her and took her up in my arms. Together, we sat there, watching the birds and the butterflies across the yard.

  My mind turned to the evening ahead. We had plans to go over to my parents’ for dinner, and I couldn't wait. I’d get to eat my mom's cooking, and we wouldn't have to do any dishes or clean up. It sounded like heaven! Thankfully, I got to see my sister quite often, because she came over to help me with Candace several times a week, but I only saw my mom and dad once or twice every two weeks, and that didn't feel like enough for any of us. Granted, they probably wanted to see Candace more than they wanted to see me.

  After playing outside for some time, I noticed Candace rubbing her eyes, which meant it was time for a nap, so I grabbed her bottle from the kitchen and took her upstairs. She always demanded a snack before dozing off.

  I heard the door open downstairs and my gaze flew to the clock on the wall. It was almost lunchtime and Brad was home already! Candace was fast asleep in my arm, and I carefully placed her in her cute owl-themed bassinet and closed her door on my way out.

  I looked for Brad as I went downstairs, and I wasn't disappointed. He was in the kitchen, putting away some groceries that he’d brought home and as soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up.

  “Sweetie! You're home a bit early!”

  “I couldn't stay away from you guys for long, especially on the weekend. How was your morning?”

  I put my arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. “It wasn't bad at all. We had our breakfast, went for a walk, and then just hung out in the backyard. She's sleeping now.”

  “Oh, is she?” he asked with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  I squeezed his arm. “She'll be up soon enough,” I said, even though I knew that was a lie. “Are you hungry? Let's have lunch. I made this chicken pasta.”

  He opened the pot’s lid. “With sun-dried tomatoes and parmesan, my favorite! You’re the best, do you know that?”

  I laughed and nodded. “You never let me forget it.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close, pressing my body against his. “How could I? I love you more than life itself.”

  I took a sip of soda as I watched Brad play with Candace on my parents’ carpet in their living room.

  I turned to my mom. “Mom, dinner was excellent, as usual. Can I just take you home with us?” I asked with a chuckle.

  Kylie gasped and Dad grabbed Mom by the shoulders, pulling her close to him on the couch.

  “No way! She's ours! You're welcome to her recipes, though,” he said with a grin.

  “Fine, I guess I'll have to settle for that.”

  “How are things going at the shop, Son?” asked Mom. “And when are you going to design something for me?”

  “And for me!” said Kylie.

  “Whoa, whoa! There's only so much of me to go around, ladies.” I shrugged and threw my hands up in the air jokingly.

  “No worries, dear, you have plenty of time. Now, who wants some dessert?” Mom asked. “I've got some delicious cheesecake.”

  Needless to say, everyone jumped at the offer. I glanced around the room, with all my loved ones gathered around, and I couldn't be happier.

  Later that night, after Candace fell asleep, we sat out on the back porch with a glass of wine each. The only sounds were the chirping crickets and the occasional car going down the next street.

  I let out a sigh.

  “Long day?” Brad asked, grabbing my hand.

  “It was fun, but yes, tiring. And I don’t know how long Candace will sleep.” She was still waking up twice a night and it seemed like a full night’s sleep was a far-off dream for me.

  “I'll take care of that tonight, honey. You deserve a break, too.”

  I raised a brow at him. “You get up with her all the time, though.”

  “I know, but it’s usually just once. Tonight, I want you to have a full night’s sleep. When's the last time you had that? I bet you can't even remember.”

  His concern was heartwarming and much appreciated. But that was Brad being Brad. He was always thinking of others before himself and it was one of the things I loved about him most.

  “It's been awhile, but I usually catch a nap with her during the day, so it's not all that bad.”

  “It’s not the same. Tonight, you're not getting up even once, and you're going to sleep in. If you feel like it, we can go to the beach tomorrow. The weather’s abou
t to turn, so we might as well make the most of it now, before the winter comes.”

  I squeezed his hand. “That sounds like fun. Candace would probably love it, too.”

  I took a sip of wine. It was cool and sweet and just the perfect way to top off the night before hitting the sheets with my alpha. New York was just a far-off memory now, a pleasant memory from what seemed like my distant past.

  Sure, I was far from the glitz and glamour of it all, but I didn't have a regret in the world. I was exactly where I was meant to be, with my new little family in our bubble of love.

  Also by Leyla Hunt

  The Thornhill Alphas Series

  Guarding His Omega

  Crowning His Omega

  Rescuing His Omega

  Vale Valley Series

  His Christmas Lullaby (A Winter Romance)

  Love Takes Flight (A Valentine Romance)

  His Summer Honey (A Summer Romance)

  The Scent of Christmas (A Holiday Romance)

  Bake Sale Bachelors Series

  Gingerbread Greetings

  Cherry Pie Charm

  About Leyla

  Leyla calls the Great White North her home, and lives there with her adorable cat, husband, and two small girls. When she's not reading or writing MPREG, she loves cooking Mediterranean food, downing coffee (and martinis) with friends, and tending her garden.

  His Omega Professor

  Kallie Frost

  A Full Moon Mates Holiday Tale

  Thirty-Three

  Oden

  After three months, my year away was not going as planned. Mainly I was just bored. I thought that getting out of the house away from my dads and the baby would be a good change. But the little apartment I was renting near the local campus was lonely. I missed my family. I missed my new baby half-sister. I missed my obnoxious full sister and her tendency to pop in unannounced. I missed my fairly new step-brother, and his wonderful new mate, and their baby.

  Sometimes the house felt a little too full, but now the apartment was just hopelessly empty. It had been a nice change for a couple of months, but now it was tedious.

  On the bright side, it was fall and the local college was just starting classes. From what I heard, they had a pretty decent anthropology program; annd while I followed along in journals, it had been a few decades since I really pursued my passion. It might be nice to get back into things and get a little more hands on experience with some of the advancements in the field.

  My first college class in quite some time, was the very basic Anthropology 135. I didn’t expect to learn much, but they wouldn't allow me to take any of the advanced classes without the prerequisite and I doubted they would be very accepting of a doctorate that was nearly forty years old from a guy who looked half that age.

  Professor Morgan was a middle aged human, probably around the same age as my doctorate, not that I was a great judge of human ages.

  I didn't pay much attention to the beginning of the lecture. It was all stuff that I knew pretty well. In fact, you might say I wrote the book on anthropology. Several, in fact.

  I lost myself in the book I was reading under my desk, which didn't have anything to do with anthropology, but was in fact my father's latest romance novel that I was proofreading. So,I was caught completely unaware when I heard someone very clearly say “Oden Silvanus.”

  “Yes? Oh yes, present!” I jerked up and called.

  The professor looked at me like I was insane and several heads turned around and stared. “Did you need something?” the professor asked.

  “I…uh…” I was confused, had he not been taking attendance? “You called my name? I'm sorry; I wasn’t paying attention, I was reading the syllabus,” I lied.

  The professor continued looking at me skeptically. “If you turn to page three of the syllabus, you’ll see that I said “Oden. Silvanus,” he enunciated, proceeding to hold up a book with a very familiar cover. “The author of our textbook.”

  “Oh,” I said with a weak laugh. “Sorry…” I fell silent: absolutely mortified.

  Still looking at me like he thought I was somewhat crazy, the professor nodded dismissively and went back to introducing the book. I probably shouldn't have, but I tuned out once again. It was safe to say I knew what the book was about.

  I was in no hurry to pack up, but regretted taking my time when I realized I was alone in the class with Professor Morgan. Normally I liked to chat with professors, but I was feeling like I had probably made a pretty bad impression.

  “I'm glad you found my syllabus so riveting,” he said.

  I laughed weakly. “Yeah. I found the textbook riveting too.”

  “Did you? Finished already?” He obviously didn't think I hadn't been paying attention.

  “I’ve uh… already read it. I love anthropology,” I said quickly.

  “What's your favorite field?”

  Obviously trying to trip me up. “Well, it was archaeology when I was younger,” I said. “But then I got the linguistic anthropology bug and that's been my focus ever since.” I realized belatedly that probably made myself sound, well, as old as I actually was and not as young as I looked. I tried to deflect and changed the subject. “You know, Silvanus also has a couple of linguistic anthropology books.”

  The professor’s skeptical look turned into a smile. “Yes, I know, I've read them. In fact, I actually teach a linguistic anthropology class and one of those is our required reading.”

  “That's great.”

  He looked at me with something that a bit fonder than the skeptical professor-looking-at-an-obnoxious-student expression he had been giving me.

  “Well. I'll see you in class on Thursday,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  I left feeling just a bit stupid and honestly, puzzled by my behavior. I nearly slipped up multiple times in front of the human, something I never did. I went to a couple more classes, but found my thoughts kept wandering back to Anthropology 135. In fact, more specifically, my conversation with the professor.

  I got back to my apartment and spoke to my parents about my first day back in school and then talked to my father for a while about what I thought of his newest book, which I was actually quite pleased with. His books, for me anyway, had lost some luster ever since his first true mate passed away, but upon finding a second one, he seemed to have regained the spark in his writing that made his books so appealing, and it certainly showed in the sales.

  As I got into bed that evening I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that I'd be fortunate enough to meet my true mate someday. Well, one could dream anyway.

  And dream I did; I woke up the next morning to sticky and a strange blend of feeling satisfied, but also left wanting. It was a strange sensation. I must have had a wet dream, although I couldn't for the life of me remember. Odd; I couldn't remember the last time I had one of those. I realized I had slept right through my alarm and, with a curse, I jumped up and got ready. I hurried along to class and opened the door of Professor Morgan's classroom and hurried to the desk I had taken last period. There was someone else sitting in it; I glared at him in annoyance. Maybe it was just me, but in my experience, it was common courtesy in a college setting to take the same seat every time, especially in a small classroom like this one.

  “Can I help you?” Professor Morgan said loudly.

  I turned to see he was looking at me. “Oh, sorry, I'm late Professor. Good morning.”

  He was fixing me with another one of his skeptical looks and I wondered what I had done wrong this time.

  “Are you enrolled in this course? 135 is the pre-requisite, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have been able to take it,” he said.

  I noticed with dismay the board behind him said Linguistic Anthropology 350. It was then I realized it was Wednesday; I didn't have class with him at all. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

  “Sorry, uh… wrong classroom.”

  I made a hasty retreat and shuffled my backpack. I shifted my messenger bag to
the other shoulder as I did, my left one was aching. Yeah, it had been a while since I was in college. I made it through the rest of my classes and the next day as well. I found myself eager to be back in Professor Morgan's class.

  The lecture went well, in my opinion. This time I paid a little more attention, not wanting to give Professor Morgan any more reasons to flash me that skeptical look. And I even answered a couple of questions.

  By the end of the week something much more interesting than college was brewing… my shoulder still hurt. Relentlessly. I was familiar enough after seeing several cousins, my own half-brother, and my father that I knew what it meant: I had met my true mate.

  I could only hope he or she was in one of my classes, which would make things easier. I spent the weekend agonizing, wondering who the hell it could be. I hadn’t spoken to many humans at all, although supposedly all you had to do was get close enough to them and the bond began to form. Just sitting in the same room or passing each other in the halls would be enough to start the pain in my shoulder that signaled I had found my true mate at last.

  Of course, I was over thinking it.

  I walked into Anthropology 135 the following week and broke into a wide, stupid grin at the sight of Professor Morgan. He was sipping a cup of coffee and I almost dropped my bag as I stared at his lips.

  Well, that was easy.

  I could have kicked myself for not realizing it sooner. Eagerly, I slid into my seat and studied him as I waited for class to start. He was handsome, in an older, human sort of way. The other students looked bored as he lectured, but I could have listened to him for hours. He read a couple of passages from my book and it was weirdly sexy to hear my words from his lips.