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

by Cassandra Dee

  She was quiet for an instant and then raised her hand to my cheek, stroking it softly.

  “I know you will, Luke,” she said, and gave me a gentle kiss of promise. My heart turned over, and I determined to do my best by this wildflower and her baby boy.

  THE END

  Read A Baby for My Billionaire Stepbrother, Part 5 next

  Previously …

  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 had 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. And no way was I going to let Wildflower waltz off again without a battle this time … especially with my child in her arms!

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Luke

  I choked as I saw her walking down the aisle. She was so beautiful, small and slim, yet elegant and dignified, projecting more class than a queen. She wore a knee-length dress of white lace as we stood before the podium, her smile warm and inviting as we turned to face the Justice of Peace.

  Finally! I had my wildflower where I wanted her. My beautiful girl was about to become my bride. I wasn’t taking any chances this time. After her brush with death two weeks ago, I’d practically become her warden, not letting her out of my sight, trailing her from room to room through our apartment.

  Seeing her lying in the hospital bed had caused my world to come crashing down. I’d realized with sudden clarity that my life wasn’t worth living without her, that she was my everything. I’d confided my love to her comatose form, and as luck would have it, my wildflower had woken and forgiven me.

  But there was still the unsettling problem of our family relationship. You see, Wildflower and I are step-siblings. Her biological father, Robert Woodson, is my stepfather, making us some fucked-up family. She’d been reluctant to marry me at first, arguing that our son Georgie would always be tainted by the smear of incest, but I’d steamrolled her. I’d insisted, arguing that Georgie would benefit from a stable home with two parents who loved him. Beneath my onslaught of words and mindblowing sex, I’d overcome Wildflower’s defenses and here we were, at the altar at last.

  The rush to City Hall was my doing. As soon as she’d said yes this morning, I’d booked an appointment with the magistrate, intent on legitimizing our union asap. I wasn’t taking any chances. She was going to be mine, physically, emotionally, and legally. I’d whipped out the ivory dress from her closet and almost dressed her in it myself.

  She’d laughed when she’d seen how eager I was.

  “Luke,” she gasped breathlessly. “There’s no rush, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Baby, I can’t wait,” I’d growled. “I’ve spent two years apart from you, and I almost just lost you again because of that stupid event. I’m so sorry,” I murmured, burying my face in her hair. “I want you to be Mrs. Miller asap.”

  She’d stroked my hair comfortingly, murmuring, “Okay, we’ll go this afternoon then. Don’t we have to find our birth certificates or something?”

  “I’ve got all that covered,” I said. “I had my staff look up your records and everything’s taken care of.”

  She pulled back. “My birth certificate?” she said curiously. “Really? You were able to locate it?”

  “Sure, why not?” I said. “You were born in Queens, right?”

  She bowed her head. “Yes, but … I’ve never even seen my birth certificate. My mom was terrible with records, so I’ve always just trusted that my name is Alana Johnson. It could be Wildflower Jones for all I know,” she teased.

  “But how did you enroll in school and get all that legal stuff done?” I asked, nonplussed.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I guess my mom was able to finagle it somehow. A student ID turned into a driver’s license, and I never needed more than that. I’ve never travelled internationally, you see,” she said shyly. “So I’ve never needed a passport.”

  I growled. That was about to change. I was a rich man and was going to shower all of my resources on Wildflower and my son, including international travel on my private jet, staying in the best hotels, and enjoying luxuries they’d never had. Okay, so she was practically an undocumented immigrant, but she was my undocumented immigrant and I was about to make her mine … forever.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Alana

  He was so handsome, brooding and dark, standing at the altar. He was staring at me so hard that my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks flushed. I knew I’d always feel this way about him, always had and always will.

  With his raven hair and black suit, I knew I’d lucked out – how many women got to marry their Prince Charming who was loving, handsome and rich to boot? But his money made no difference to me. I would have married him even if he’d been a pauper. The blue eyes glued to my form as I moved up the aisle made me grow hot again. How had I landed a husband so persuasive, magnetic, and charismatic?

  The truth was, I wasn’t sure. Luke had swept me off my feet when I was nineteen, and since then life hadn’t been the same. Our first weeks together had been like a fairytale, but when I’d discovered that we were related, I’d fled without a word, not wanting to taint him with the rumor of incest. He was a powerful man, and a favorite of gossip columns. They’d have a field day if they knew Luke was dating his stepsister.

  Of course, it’d been too late … I was already pregnant with Georgie when I’d left. But secretly, I’d been gloriously happy knowing that I’d have a reminder of my dark, handsome lover for the rest of my life.

  And Georgie was the image of his father. So much so that when Luke had stumbled upon us two years later, he’d immediately recognized himself stamped in Georgie’s features, a paternity that could not be denied.

  And so here we were. The three of us were going to be family now in the eyes of the law. I was overflowing with happiness, so much so that I felt light-headed standing before the minister, my smile a ray of light.

  The issue of incest still bedeviled me though. Luke was a powerful man, and our father was an aspiring politician. Robert Woodson was gearing up for a run for Senate, and how would it look if it got out that his daughter and stepson were lovers? Not just lovers, but married with a son? It could destroy his campaign.

  Plus, I wanted the best for Georgie, and still wasn’t sure how this was going to work out … living in New York was almost not an option. Everyone knew the Woodson’s, they were a prominent family. I sighed, trying to clear my head. No matter what, I would always have Luke, and we would stick together through thick and thin.

  The minister cleared his throat and began his sonorous rumblings.

  “Does anyone here know why I should not join this man and woman in marriage today?” he declared.

  Given that it was only Luke, myself, and the wedding photographer, there was blessed silence. The minister started moving onto the next portion of the ceremony when suddenly the door burst open and Sabrina stood at the entryway.

  “Stop!” she shrieked, “She’s a slut!” she exclaimed, pointing at me, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. Both Luke and I turned, me trembling and him audibly growling at the interruption.

  “What the fuck?” he roared. Sabrina was a woman he’d dated during our two years apart. Although I’d been celibate, Luke evidently had taken up with a string of women. He’d promised me that it was nothing but sex, and I believed him. After all, he was a man with needs and I could hardly deny his virility.

  But Sabrina was hard to ignore. Gorgeous, five foot eleven, with emerald green eyes and a lithe figure, she’d somehow developed the impression that Luke was going to mar
ry her. He’d assured me that this was delusional on her part. They’d gone out a few times, but there had certainly been no talk of marriage or even anything more serious than the next date.

  I trembled like a leaf before a firestorm. Sabrina strode up to the platform with the piece of paper in her hand and presented it to the justice.

  “See here?” she said. “Alana Johnson is the daughter of Robert Woodson and Lilly Johnson. She can’t get married to Luke because they’re siblings,” she declared.

  The minister frowned. “Is this true?” he asked, scrutinizing the birth certificate.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but my throat was dry and scratchy, unable to make out any words. Luke answered for us both.

  “Yes,” he said darkly. “Technically it’s true …” he trailed off, glaring at Sabrina.

  “Sir,” said the justice. “Then I can’t marry you. In New York, persons known to be related, whether through blood or marriage, cannot be legally married. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to halt this ceremony.”

  I felt dizzy. We’d come so close to legitimizing our union, and yet we’d lost everything … again. Luke and I were never going to be together. I bowed my head, tears pooling in my eyes before spilling down my cheeks. I knew that this was a lost cause, and gave up the fight then and there in my heart.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Luke

  “Wildflower, listen to me,” I ground out. “It’s not over yet. I’m a powerful man. I can find some way to be together, there’s got to be a way. I just need to give my team some time to do more research.”

  “Luke, stop,” she said softly. “It’s over. We’ve lost. Now we know that we can never be married, and there’s no point in fighting it. I don’t want to live in sin, so we’ve got to be apart, don’t you see? It’s just the way it has to be.”

  I shook my head furiously, but had no reply. I was livid at the way things had gone. I’d actually hustled Wildflower all the way to the altar, only to be foiled by that bitch at the last minute. I rued the day my mother had introduced me to Sabrina. Somehow, the cunt had gotten her hands on a copy of Alana’s birth certificate and totally blown our chance at happiness. Now Wildflower and I could never be married in NYC.

  How she’d gotten that birth certificate was still a mystery to me. I’d questioned my entire staff because I’d figured there’d been a leak in my inner circle. But I wasn’t so sure anymore. My people had been loyal to me for fifteen years, and it was difficult to believe that one of them would sell me out, trashing my opportunity with the one and only woman I’d ever loved. Someone or something more nefarious was involved, and I was determined to find out what.

  In the meantime, I loved Alana and was determined to have her, even if our wedding ceremony had been thwarted today. I lowered my head and demonstrated my love in the best way I knew how. I kissed her where her pulse beat at her throat, the rhythm immediately skyrocketing as my tongue tasted her lovely flesh. My wildflower was so sweet, so responsive to me, even at the nadir of our relationship.

  “Please,” I murmured, “Just give me more time. I want to make it right. That bitch …” I spat. “That bitch,” I continued, controlling myself, “shouldn’t make a difference. Don’t give up so easily,” I pleaded.

  She stroked my hair softly, her fingers running through the thick softness. I took advantage of the moment and captured her mouth for a deep kiss. “Alana,” I groaned. “Don’t give up…”

  “I know,” she breathed into my mouth. “I know …”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Alana

  My heart pounded as he swept me into a hungry embrace. I let myself sink into his arms, but also knew this would be our last time together. The hurdles had proved too difficult, too heart-wrenching, and after the dramatic entry of Sabrina at our wedding ceremony, I knew that it was best to let Luke go. He belonged to a different echelon of society, with different rules and expectations. The discovery of our illicit relationship meant that my hopes for a quiet beginning were dashed.

  I sighed into his mouth. Even if we could never be together, I wanted our last time to be a gesture of love, something that I could take with me forever. He was so overpowering, sensuous yet masculine, that I wanted it to last forever in my memory.

  Sensing my surrender, his arms tightened around me and he pressed his lips against mine, murmuring, “Wildflower, Wildflower.”

  My heart almost broke at the words. I had pined for Luke for so long, and to come so close only to lose him once more made my heart swell and tears pool in my eyes.

  He thought that the tears were for today’s aborted ceremony. They were, but even more, they were tears for a future together which didn’t exist.

  “Hush baby, don’t cry,” he whispered in my ear as his hands stroked my cheek. He kissed my hot lids, softly tracing the wet trail of tears. When his mouth found mine, he was almost desperate, pushing his tongue into my mouth deeply, forcefully, branding me his once again.

  I responded without abandon because I would always be his. I gave myself up to his embrace while returning it one hundred percent. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my breasts against his chest, and ground my hips against his hardness, feeling him gasp, an immediate hardening against my tummy. He began stripping me, roughly pulling at the zip of my ill-fated wedding gown, tearing at the fabric.

  “Goddammit,” he growled. “Fuck this dress,” he panted. “I’m going to get you something even nicer, even fancier for next time.”

  I nodded silently, not daring to answer for fear that my voice would break. There wouldn’t be a next time. I was going to take Georgie and disappear. Where to, I didn’t know yet, but there couldn’t be another next time. My heart couldn’t bear it.

  I returned his kiss ravenously, my hands fumbling at his waist band, undoing the clasp of his tuxedo pants. I tore at his zip, eager to wrap my hands around his hot shaft. Ahh! There it was. His cock was so hard and hot it almost scalded my hand, the flesh rigid yet soft under his velvety skin. I grasped him in my small hands and ran them up and down his pole, causing him to grunt and buck his hips.

  “Ohh,” he moaned in my ear. “More baby,” he groaned.

  I obliged, wanting to remember this last time together. I licked my palm and grasped his shaft tightly, running the flat of my hand up and down before trailing my fingers gently against his hardness, tickling his flesh. I then reached below and squeezed his balls, feeling how full they were, filled with his virility. He moaned into my mouth, his sacs tensing and hardening in my hand as they got ready to shoot. Wanting to prolong his arousal, I let go, instead tracing a fingertip lightly against the seam of his ball sac, trying to memorize every crevice, every curve of my man.

  “Fuck,” he groaned into my mouth. “I have to see you,” he growled.

  With a mighty rip, he tore my dress all the way down the front, baring me to his gaze. I’d worn nothing but the barest strips of lingerie, the ivory lace cupping my breasts and pussy lovingly. He paused momentarily, hungrily staring at my body before lowering his head to sample my tits.

  He suckled voraciously, running his tongue around my areola and nipping softly at the puffy flesh, tracing the pink nub with his lips. Cunningly, he ran his hand up to my breast and began squeezing rhythmically, starting at the base before massaging upwards. Tiny droplets of milk began beading at the tip, and he licked at the creaminess ravenously. He’d only recently discovered that I was still lactating, Georgie being slow to wean, and had delighted in tasting my mother’s milk.

  He pulled hard, the sight of his dark head at my breast causing me to tingle between my legs. Shamefully, I felt a deep wetness begin to run there, and pressed my boobs against him, mewling for more.

  “Baby, we’ll get there,” he soothed against my breast, rhythmically stroking the flesh, coaxing milk from its source. He backed me up until I sat at the edge of the bed and angled himself so that he was kneeling between my legs. With a big fist, he tore my panties off, the lace giving w
ay without hesitation.

  I was now bared before his eyes, nude with rivulets of milk running down the lower curve of each breast. He was immobile before me, his eyes feasting on my body before groaning harshly, “Baby, I need to taste the white in you …” he trailed off.

  I knew what he wanted. I carefully positioned my ass at the edge of the bed and shook my breasts at him, tantalizing him with each jiggle of my jugs. He began squeezing again, causing the milk to gush, streaming down the underside of my breasts, down my tummy, and finally to the crevice between my legs. I reached down and parted my cunny lips, showing him my hot pink as the milk poured through it, the white coating my inner folds with creamy goodness.

  His eyes were glued to my secret space, watching raptly as the white trailed over my clit and between my labia. Unable to resist any longer, he buried his tongue in my twat, lapping up the cream mixed with my pussy juices. He groaned deeply in his chest while burying his tongue in my hole, fucking me, thrusting in and out.

  He lapped and sucked, ravenously eating me, fiddling with my clit while devouring my fleshy folds. I gasped and screamed, twisting underneath him, the stimulation almost too much to bear. I was thoroughly covered in cream now, the white coating my torso, dripping hotly into my cunt as Luke ravished me, no crevice of my cunny secret from him, every ripple and fold explored by his clever tongue.

  Unable to hold back any longer, I gave up to my orgasm, trembling wildly beneath his mouth.

  “Luke!” I cried. “Luke, Luke, Luke!” His name escaped my lips.

  “That’s it baby, keep saying my name,” he panted into my folds, seizing my clit between his lips as my pussy twisted and spasmed beneath him. Wanting to feel my orgasm deeply and fully, he pressed two fingers into me, my cunt greedily clenching and unclenching around him as my cunny juices gushed into his mouth. He continued lapping, murmuring sweet nothings into my pussy, gulping the milk and female fluids as they flowed.