DOUBLE HUGE: A Twin Stepbrother Romance (With BONUS book A Baby for My Billionaire Stepbrother)

by Cassandra Dee

  I mewled plaintively, gyrating my hips as he continued teasing my pussy with skilled fingers. He moved down my body so that his head was at waist level and commanded, “Spread.”

  I knew exactly what he wanted and parted my legs, my steaming cunt on display for his hungry eyes. He didn’t taste me immediately. Instead, he pulled the pearls to one side and parted my pussy lips, letting his gaze linger on the moist, ruby red folds of my inner channel. I could feel my vagina dripping with liquid, my clit standing up to attention before his male gaze.

  He leaned in close and sniffed deeply while letting his hot breath tease my sensitive flesh. I squealed slightly, the tension almost unbearable. I needed his hot mouth on me, his clever lips and tongue arousing and enflaming me.

  Sensing my desperation, he bent over and licked my luscious twat, running his tongue all the way from my perineum to the top of my clit. I cried out, my knees buckling.

  “Hold on baby,” he murmured into my soft folds, a strong arm circling my waist to make sure I didn’t fall. “We’re just getting started.”

  He began tonguing me languorously, suckling my wet folds before playing with my clit with the tip of his tongue. He circled the hard nub a few times before pushing down on my hot button, then suckling more while I cried out in ecstasy. My kitty grew hotter and more engorged, hungrier than ever, and he was relentless. He tongue-fucked me, pushing as deep into my hole as he could while stroking me with his fingers, rubbing my wet folds before penetrating deeply into my inner channel.

  I collapsed on him with a scream, my kitty convulsing on his fingers as wet juices gushed out onto his mouth and hand. I blacked out for a few moments, seeing nothing but stars, my heart racing as I struggled to catch my breath. My breasts bobbed heavily, the nipples aroused and standing to attention as I continued to spasm around his fingers as they slid in and out of my most private place.

  As I regained my senses, he looked up at me from his kneeling position and smiled lasciviously. His mouth and chin were completely covered in my female juices, but he loved it, licking at his lips and savoring the taste of aroused female.

  He stood up, balancing me against him and began unfastening the clasp on his trousers. When his cock popped out, I gasped for the hundredth time. Despite the fact that he’d been buried in me almost non-stop for the past two weeks, I could never get over the fact of his sheer size and girth. His cock was at least ten inches when aroused, and he was as wide as my fist.

  I leaned forward, angling for a taste, but he stopped me before I could sip his pre-cum.

  “Uh uh, Wildflower, I need to be in you asap because I can’t hold on much longer,” he growled. He swiveled me around so that my back was to him, and I braced my hands against the kitchen counter.

  “Spread,” he commanded again, and obediently I parted my legs. I knew my cunny was hot and steamy still, red and engorged with a trail of female juice running down my thigh. He traced the rivulet with his finger before breaking the strand of pearls with his fist, the beads clattering to the floor. Without any further warning, he pushed me down and thrust into me with his mighty pole, fucking me hard and deep with one stroke.

  “Ohhh!” I cried, throwing my head back, loving the feel of being impaled on his massive member. The waves overtook me as he started up a pounding rhythm, driving deep into me again and again, my breath coming in gasps as he fucked me hard.

  “Ohhh!” I shrieked as the pressure built. My cunny was gushing warm juices again, this time coating his cock in liquid glaze as his balls hit my clit. He paused an instant and pushed me down even further, whispering in my ear. “I want to hit your g-spot, Wildflower.”

  Sure enough, his glans brushed that sensitive spot when he took up the rhythm again, and the pressure in my kitty grew to unbearable proportions. With a cry of release, I came for a second time, my twat convulsing on his pole, grasping it in its wet depths and pulling him deeper. The friction caused him to release as well, and he spurted into me with a mighty roar. Our bodies shook against each other, each jet of semen sucked into my uterus by my hungry kitty, desperate for his sperm.

  “Oh no!” I panicked as I arched my back, trying to make eye contact with him. “We forgot to use protection again!” It seemed so trite, since he was totally embedded in my wet depths.

  He growled low in his throat, breathing in my ear. “Wildflower, I WANT you to have my baby, protection is the last thing on my mind,” he said, stirring his groin and making me sigh. I couldn’t believe how many times we’d forgotten to use protection in the last two weeks, it was totally irresponsible and my nineteen year-old self was not ready for a baby.

  But at the same time, would being the mother of Luke’s son or daughter be so bad? The way he was so loving, so tender with me, a family with him could be sweet and satisfying. I wasn’t sure, but promised myself to use a condom the next time around … which judging by his hardening cock could be in about five minutes.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Luke

  Back in the present day …

  She was a mass of contradictions, this mother of my child. Desperately poor, yet impertinent, looking at me with a combination of lust and fear. Oh yes, lust. Even after two years of no contact, I could tell that my Wildflower still wanted me.

  Oh shit. MY Wildflower? I shook it off. Old habits die hard.

  She was back in my life whether or not she wanted to be because my child was a part of me and I wasn’t going to let Georgie go so soon after discovering him. A man has a duty to raise his son, and I was going to fight for custody tooth and nail.

  “So where’s your boyfriend?” I asked nastily. I couldn’t help it. The thought of someone else covering that luscious body inflamed me, even though I hadn’t touched her in two years.

  She looked down, her long lashes shielding her blue eyes. “I … I don’t have one,” she said quietly.

  “Oh really?” I demanded. “Then how are you able to afford all this?” I asked, gesturing to the gated private park we stood in.

  “It’s my friend Helen’s apartment,” she replied softly, looking down at her hands. “Helen gave me the key while she’s on vacation.”

  “So where are you living?” I demanded, one arm carrying Georgie as I hustled her out of the park. “Let’s go. We’re getting Georgie’s things and you’re moving in with me.”

  She gasped, the color draining from her face. Maybe it was a reminder of how I’d pressured Wildflower into moving in with me just a week after we met. I’d been desperate for her, for her scent, for her body, and had steamrolled the beautiful teen, overcoming her protestations.

  This time wasn’t going to be any different. I hauled Wildflower and the baby into my Range Rover and we took off in the direction she indicated. After driving for a while, I could hardly contain my distaste. We were in a rough part of town, completely dominated by public housing projects. My son was growing up here? She must have seen the contempt on my face because she began defending herself.

  “It’s safer than it looks,” she began, “Plus, we live close to the school where I teach, and there’s a daycare nearby.”

  “DAYCARE!” I roared. No child of mine was going into public daycare. Georgie was getting his own nanny, stet.

  “Yes, daycare,” she said softly. “I need to work and Georgie needs to be looked after. The daycare center is perfectly fine, I made sure they had all their licenses and insurance.”

  I respected her for saying that. Only a responsible mother would think to check boring details like licensing and insurance. But that didn’t change my mind … Wildflower and Georgie were coming to live with me.

  She came out of the house with two bags and Georgie’s car seat.

  “Where’s the rest of your stuff?” I asked.

  “This is it,” she said simply. “All the furniture is rented and Georgie just sleeps with me in the bed, he doesn’t have a crib.”

  My Wildflower was so poor that she couldn’t afford a crib? I packed her into the car and bega
n driving back in a rage. I was so angry that I couldn’t even look at her, much less speak.

  But there was a question that continually lingered in my mind. It had been driving me insane the past two years, and I’d lain awake nights, wondering and ruminating, completely baffled at the turn of events.

  “Why did you leave me two years ago?” I asked abruptly. “What happened that was so bad? Why no note, no phone call, no nothing?”

  She sighed, looking down at her hands. “Oh Luke, you’ll never understand,” she said softly.

  “Try me,” I ground out. “We were so happy Wildflower, why did you take off without saying anything? Was it something I did?”

  “Oh no!” she turned to me, tears in her eyes. “Not at all.” She paused momentarily and then turned to me, begging for understanding. “Luke,” she said softly. “Do you remember when we got that invitation from your mom in the mail?”

  “Sure,” I said. “The one for my sister’s wedding right? What, were you afraid that I’d be ashamed to bring you as my guest because you’re POOR?” I said in disbelief. If she thought that, then I had seriously misjudged the woman because the opposite had been true. I had been looking forward to introducing Alana to my family, thinking the beautiful Cape Cod setting to be a perfect time to meet my mom and stepdad.

  She nodded sadly. “I was so excited to attend the wedding as your girlfriend,” she said softly. “But then I saw the name on the invitation and knew we couldn’t be together,” she continued.

  “What?” I asked, totally dumbfounded. My sister’s name was Lauren Woodson, a totally normal, boring name. Who cared?

  She nodded again. “I saw that the invitation came from Mr. and Mrs. Robert Woodson, your parents.” She hesitated. “Luke ...” she continued. “My biological father is Robert Woodson. You’re my stepbrother,” she finished.

  I sat in stunned silence. My mom had married Robert when I was a kid, and he was as much of a father to me as any man could be. Kind and affectionate, generous and caring … was this the bastard who had left Alana’s mom after finding out she was pregnant?

  As if reading my mind, Alana nodded. “I couldn’t believe it at first. I didn’t want to believe it. But I had Robert’s genealogy tracked, and there’s no doubt, you’re my stepbrother,” she said softly.

  I was incensed. I had fucked my own sister two years ago and unknowingly impregnated her? This was so fucked up that I needed to think. Slamming the Range Rover to a halt, I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw myself out of the car, intent on walking anywhere, away from this mess.

  “Wait Luke!” she cried, chasing after me. She was breathless from running and I could hear Georgie wailing in the car. My son with this woman was also … my nephew? The familial connections were so tangled that I felt dizzy and weak.

  But the baby’s cries brought me back to reality. No matter what anyone said or anyone did, I owed it to my son to do right. With slow steps, I walked back to the car and got in, shepherding my new family to safety.

  THE END

  Read A Baby for My Billionaire Stepbrother, Part 3 next

  Previously …

  My son with Wildflower was also my nephew?

  The girl I’d called Wildflower had walked out on me two years ago, leaving my bed empty and cold. I’d shuddered in her absence, my body aching as my mind whirled with worthless thoughts. How could she have done this? How could she have walked out on a relationship so caring, loving and mutually respectful? My body ached each night in remembrance of her warm, female heat.

  But a chance encounter brought her back to me. Except this time the blonde has a baby in tow … and one look at the child was a revelation. His dark hair and grey eyes were a spitting image of me, from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. No way was I going to let Wildflower waltz off with my baby … even after she revealed that we were actually stepsiblings ….

  CHAPTER NINE

  Luke

  My head reeled with the enormity of the situation. Evidently, Wildflower’s biological dad was my stepfather Robert Woodson … making her my stepsister. Meanwhile, my son was what exactly? My son but also my nephew? The enormity of the situation drove me crazy and I shook my head with frustration, enraged and furious.

  I pulled the Range Rover into the garage and unbuckled Georgie. My son was gurgling happily, stuffing a tiny fist into his mouth. He looked at me and I felt my heart turn over. No matter what happened, I was going to be a father to my boy, come hell or high water.

  We entered the apartment and I put Georgie down for a nap. Alana trailed behind me, ghosting between rooms as if afraid of what I was going to say. Finally, I spun on my heels and confronted her.

  “So?” I demanded harshly.

  She trembled like a wildflower in a heavy gust of wind. She was alluring, even more beautiful with tears in her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” she said softly, looking down. “I understand if you don’t want to live together. People are going to talk. Robert Woodson is a powerful man, and people are going to figure out that we’re siblings.”

  It’s true, my stepdad was a man of some prominence. He’d had a failed campaign for U.S. Senator about twenty years back, and even now was still active on the charity circuit, regularly attending high society events.

  “Why didn’t you say anything two years ago?” I demanded. “Why did you just take off without a word?”

  “I didn’t know!” she protested. “Your last name isn’t Woodson, so I didn’t put two and two together until I saw the wedding invite with your parents’ name on it. Plus, I was so afraid of what you were going to say …” she continued in a small voice.

  “How would you know what I’d say? Or what I’d want?” I growled. I was really pissed. My wildflower had run off without even bothering to discuss the issue with me. Instead of working through the situation as a team, she’d fled without so much as a goodbye. I could feel so much anger boiling inside that I lashed out at her without thinking.

  CRACK! Went the palm of my hand. Disbelieving, she raised her hand to her cheek, unconsciously tracing where I’d slapped her. I could see the imprints of my fingers against her face, a burning red against her fair skin.

  She fell to her knees, but I wasn’t done with her yet. The slap had inflamed me even more, and I jerked her to her feet, dragging her to the bedroom. She trailed limply behind me, and growling with frustration, I lifted her in my arms, dumping her on the bedspread.

  She looked so vulnerable, her petite frame cowering in shock, blonde hair in disarray. But I had lost any train of coherent thought and was 100% pure animal. I ripped off her clothes, the fabric tearing roughly in my hands until she was dressed in nothing but a tiny pair of panties. Her legs were golden and smooth, running up to a tanned and toned midriff.

  With no reservations, I gripped an ankle in each fist and roughly split her legs so that her pudenda was displayed against the thin cotton. I pressed my mouth against the soft heat, burrowing my face into her feminine scent.

  “No!” she cried softly. “Not like this!” I looked up and saw tears trailing wetly from the corner of her eyes, but her cunny told a different story. Already I could feel the steam emanating from her core, moisture beginning to dampen the soft cotton. With a swipe of my chin, I nudged the fabric aside, exposing her pink nether lips.

  Satisfyingly, they were already engorged and moist despite the girl’s desperate struggles to get away. With a growl, I buried my tongue in her depths, pushing as deeply into her hole as I could before lapping hungrily at her sweet nectar. Her folds glistened and pulsed beneath my mouth, welcoming despite her continuing protestations. Pretty soon, her gyrating hips told me that Wildflower’s struggles to get away had turned into the endless quest for release.

  I lapped hungrily at her clit, roughly circling it with my tongue before nipping the delicate nub with my lips. Her taste was unique, like fresh grass seeded with the unmistakable scent of my wildflower. I chewed lightly on her lips, letting her feel the imprint
of my teeth before biting again on her sweet bud, tantalizing her most sensitive place. Hungrily, I traced my tongue in that crevice between her thigh and her pussy, devouring as much of her as I could.

  By now Wildflower was moaning urgently beneath my mouth, pressing my head into her cunny while gushes of juice pulsed hotly from her core. I pushed her legs up even higher, exposing her tiny pucker of an ass, and gave it a slow, hungry lick.

  “Oh no!” she moaned underneath me. In the six weeks it’d taken to conceive Georgie, I’d never forced her into anal, but that was about to change. She deserved the punishment and was going to get it hard and fast in her backside.

  Fortunately, her juices were running so copiously that they trailed wetly to her pucker. I rimmed her a bit, tracing each ridge of her anus with my tongue before thrusting as far up as I could into her back passage. She moaned lustily at the sensation, gripping and twisting her nipples as I tasted her ass.

  I pushed a finger against the tiny hole. She squirmed uncomfortably because her anus had never been penetrated before, but I didn’t bother going slow. The bitch was going to take my dick soon, and any foreplay was just a courtesy. I shoved insistently against her pucker, and it relented, my finger penetrating into her back walls. I felt the circle of muscles contracting against my digit, squeezing hotly as she accustomed herself to the breach. With no warning, I pushed a second digit in as well, roughly stirring in her ass, loosening her sphincter for my cock.

  “Aaah!” she moaned wordlessly. The sight of the horny blonde impaled on my fingers was impossibly exciting. I pulled my digits from her ass and thrust them into her mouth, forcing her to suck. Like the whore she was, she licked hungrily, tasting the scent of her dirty, clammy ass on my hand.

  I then sat her up and pushed her face into the wet spot in the bed. She’d gushed so much that the there was a small pool of fluid, and I forced her to lap at it, eating her own pussy juice. No act was taboo with this dirty ho who had borne my son, and I kept my hand on the nape of her neck, forcing her to continue licking until the pool was gone and only a damp spot remained.