As I came down from my high, he released my clit and glanced up at me. His mouth and chin were completely covered in my wetness, and he licked his lips, as if savoring my taste. I glanced down at his cock and saw that it was rigid with need, the tip pressed up against his belly button he was so aroused.
“Baby, are you ready?” he murmured against my lips. I tasted myself, the tang of female arousal mixed with the sweetness of milk.
“Yes …” I breathed. Without further ado, he nudged my legs further apart and pushed his cockhead against my folds. They parted immediately, welcoming my man home. He thrust all the way in, groaning as my inner channel cushioned him, grasping him tightly in my hot flesh, welcoming the fullness of his invasion. He bumped up against my cervix and I moaned, knowing that he had a massive load ready for me.
Slowly, he began a deep rhythm, his cock running in and out, the friction against my vaginal walls delicious and erotic. He started gently, but soon was roughly fucking me, his hips pistoning against the softness of my body, his invasion rocking me back and forth.
“Say you’ll never leave me…” he growled as he fucked me.
I gasped, almost unconscious from the pleasure coursing through my body. I was barely coherent and answered without thinking.
“I’ll never leave you …” I breathed. Luke orgasmed at the words, a guttural cry of “Wildflower” escaping his lips as his hips drove home, unleashing a wild spray of sperm into my pussy. I clenched around him, my own climax overtaking me as we coupled, our bodies trembling and shaking, his cock buried deep in me, my pussy hungry for more semen.
He continued to grind against me as his balls emptied, shooting his life force deep into my womb. Gently, I ran a small hand between us and squeezed his balls, helping him empty into me.
“Oh Wildflower,” he groaned into my neck, burying his face in my hair as his penis dripped, his big body relaxed on top of mine. He felt so good, so right, that I almost cried then and there, knowing that we were destined to part ways.
“Luke, I love you,” I said gently, looking into his eyes.
“Wildflower, you don’t know how much it means to hear you say that,” he said roughly. “I know I’ve spoken those words to you, but I’d never heard you say them in return,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I was hoping that after we were married, I could convince you, show you that I love you so much that you’d say them to me.”
“Oh Luke,” I said, cupping his face in my hands. “I’ve always loved you, I’ve never stopped loving you,” I confided, gazing deeply into his blue eyes. I wanted to remember these eyes for as long as I lived, the way they penetrated my soul.
“And I’ll never let you go …” he rumbled, his arms drawing me close. My heart did break then because I knew I’d be taking Georgie and leaving the man I loved, starting a new life without him.
THE END
Read A Baby for My Billionaire Stepbrother, Part 6 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.
I steamrolled her into a hasty wedding, my need for her desperate and overwhelming, but the ceremony was aborted when a crazed woman walked in proclaiming that we were step-siblings. Of course it was true, but I wasn’t about to let that get in the way of claiming my girl …
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Alana
I swallowed a lump in my throat, tears pooling in my eyes as I looked down at my son.
“Mama,” he said, a chubby fist extended towards me, offering me a wildflower he’d picked from the lawn.
“Thank you baby,” I said softly, taking the blossom from him. He looked so much like his father that I was overcome with emotion again. His big blue eyes were the same shade as Luke’s, the raven hair the same inky black.
I looked down at my belly. I hadn’t started to show yet, but there was an unmistakable curve that hadn’t been there four months ago. Just four months ago I’d almost married Luke …
I shook my head, the memories overwhelming. Our ill-fated wedding was best forgotten. The way we’d been so hopeful, so loving, only to have our future dashed when that bitch Sabrina burst in with my birth certificate, declaring that we were step-siblings. It was true. Luke and I were siblings through marriage, even if not biologically related, and we were prohibited from being legally married in the State of New York. Shamefully, I’d fled after that, taking my boy with me, hoping to escape the mess that was my life.
But unknowingly, I was pregnant … again. Luke was a father for a second time, and the prospect filled me with fear, but also glowing, incandescent joy. If I was to have two reminders of the man I loved, then I would gladly welcome the new addition to my life.
But right now, the going was tough, even if Georgie didn’t know it yet. I’d brought my son with me to the far reaches of Alaska, hoping that no one could find us here. It was summer still, so the days were still fair and bright, but soon winter would descend and we’d be surrounded by darkness.
My journey here had been tough. After a plane flight with my squalling son, I’d landed in Anchorage, not sure where to head next. An ad in the paper for short order cooks had directed me to a town called Kilukut, an Eskimo word for Paradise. I’d liked that … a Paradise far away where I could raise my son.
I’d splurged on a cab to take us to the rooming house in Kilukut and offered myself as a cook to the proprietress. The old lady was a sweet thing, with dyed red hair and perceptive eyes. She took in my bawling boy and offered him a glass of milk during our impromptu interview.
“So you can cook?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” I’d said softly. “Hamburgers, chili, soups, anything that will keep you warm in the cold of winter,” I said. I was handy at the stove. Being a latchkey kid had taught me take care of myself early on.
“Well, this rooming house boards twenty men, and we’re filled to the rafters right now,” she said. “It’s oil season, and we’ve got men from all over working the rigs, hungry as can be. You think you can keep up?” she said doubtfully.
“I know I can!” I exclaimed. “I often had to cook for cousins, so I’m good with large groups and hearty food,” I said. “I can stretch a dollar to feed twenty men if I have to.”
She liked the sound of that and nodded. “Right then. You’ll be an assistant to Rosie, our head chef. Wages are $200 per week plus room and board. What are you going to do with your boy while you work?” she asked.
“Is … is there day care around here?” I asked timidly.
“There ain’t no formal daycare, but Miss Lyons across the street takes children into her home for a few hours a day. Why don’t you ask there?”
Fortunately, everything had been settled. Georgie and I moved into our own room in the boarding house. Miss Lyons miraculously had a slot open, and I dropped Georgie off each morning before starting my shift in the kitchen. It was hard work, but I wasn’t above honest employ. I’d started washing dishes and chopping vegetables, but Miss Rosie now trusted me with desserts and breads, even if I hadn’t moved onto the main course yet.
But we were a happy bunch. My little boy smiled at me once again and I scooped him up in my arms. We’d have a new addition soon, and I could feel the baby beginning to stir.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Luke
The discovery that Alana was gone filled me with g
rief. I’d sunk into a deep depression upon returning home and realizing that her small satchel had disappeared, the only traces of her the echoes of laughter in the empty apartment.
And she’d taken my son again. I’d fallen in love with Georgie during our brief acquaintance, the little boy an image of me that could not be denied. I was hell bent on dragging them back, but knew that my Wildflower would only run again. She’d run once before, and my beautiful bride would continue to run so long as she didn’t feel safe.
I’d been incandescent with anger at the interruption to our wedding. I’d already destroyed Sabrina through a few well-placed phone calls. She’d never be welcome at the elite clubs and social gatherings that were everything to a bitch with her fucked-up values.
But how the fuck had Sabrina located Alana’s birth certificate? Sabrina was crafty, but certainly not hard-working enough to mine the musty storage rooms of the New York City Register. I’d interviewed everyone on my staff but discovered no leak. It was only ruminating in the dark confines of my office that I realized there was someone I’d never spoken to … Alana’s mom.
I’d driven out to the Bronx, intent on confrontation. It was this bitch who must have spoiled our union, with Sabrina as her pawn. I’d pounded on the door to a derelict house, the paint peeling and shutters drooping from their hinges. I’d expected to see someone rundown and aged, but the woman who’d opened the door had been unexpectedly beautiful, with a strong resemblance to her daughter. Her blonde hair was faded, but swept into an elegant updo, and she wore a cashmere sweater even if there were holes at the elbows.
She knew who I was immediately.
“Luke Miller,” she greeted. “I wondered when you’d piece two and two together.”
I’d barreled into her home, the interior shabby and makeshift. But somehow, I couldn’t look down on it. This was where my wildflower had grown up, and I couldn’t make fun of her past, even as I wanted to burn the place down.
“Tell me where she is,” I growled.
“I don’t know,” said Lilly Johnson. “Don’t you?” she looked at me questioningly. I’d set detectives on Alana’s trail, but hadn’t been able to pin her location yet. All I knew was that she was somewhere out west, with my baby in tow.
“Why did you do it?” I growled, not even bothering to re-hash the unfortunate turn of events.
“Ah, your wedding,” said Lilly slowly. “Before I get into that, Luke, let me tell you a bit about Alana’s life here. Have you any idea what it was like for her to grow up in the Bronx? Look around you. I raised my daughter here, scraping by without a penny to spare, while you, your mother, and your sister lived in the lap of luxury. My Alana had nothing, while you and your family had everything,” she said bitterly.
“You’re jealous of us?” I asked disbelievingly. “You should blame Robert Woodson,” I said roughly. “He’s the one who left you.” My stepfather was Alana’s biological dad, and had deserted Lilly when he’d found out she was pregnant.
“I don’t blame Robert for leaving,” she said. “But it was the fact that he forgot about us. He didn’t care about his own daughter. He didn’t send a penny our way, instead lavishing his riches on you and your sister.”
I stopped short. “Lady, you’ve got this all wrong. I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but the family wealth comes from my family… and not Robert.”
“Of course,” she said. “You’re chairman of Atlantis Records. But Robert was the one who raised you in the lap of luxury.”
“No,” I said slowly, shaking my head. “My mother is a scion of the Phelps clan, an old banking family from Long Island. When she married Robert, Robert was not much more than a small-town lawyer. It was my mom and her trust fund that paid for our apartment on Fifth Avenue,” I said.
“But …” she sputtered. “But Robert Woodson is a partner at an investment fund! He’s running for political office! No one can do that without deep pockets.”
“That’s right,” I nodded again. “My mom’s pockets. The hedge fund was set up for Robert by the Phelps family so that he could have a respectable position, but it’s never made the kind of money needed for our lifestyle. His campaign is being funded by my mom’s trust even now,” I said, gesturing with my hands. “Maybe he never gave Alana anything, but that’s because he never had anything to give,” I said. “The trust ensured that all the money stayed in the family.”
Lilly turned a deathly shade of white. Her mouth opened and closed a few times but only a raw choking sound came out. She sat down limply on an ottoman and buried her face in her hands.
“What have I done? What have I done?” she moaned as she rocked back and forth.
Although I’d come to destroy this woman, I no longer felt anything but pity for the old lady in her ramshackle house. She wanted to destroy my mother’s happiness, but her reasons had been completely baseless and wrong. The end result was that she’d only harmed her own daughter.
“I’m going now,” I said to no one in particular. Lilly didn’t seem to hear me as she rocked back and forth, this time with cries of “Alana, forgive me!”
I knew my job here was done, and returned to the City to get back on Wildflower’s trail.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Alana
“So Alana, can I come in tonight?” said Danny. The big oilman was brawny, with wide shoulders and a shock of red hair. He leaned against the door jamb, looking hopefully into my room with its saggy double bed. Georgie’s crib was in the corner, empty right now as Miss Lyons babysat him.
“Oh Danny,” I said, gesturing helplessly at the space behind me. “My son will be back soon, and I just can’t,” I said.
He looked hopefully at me. “Babies don’t know, you know …” he said, his voice trailing off.
I couldn’t pretend that I’d misunderstood.
“That’s true, Georgie’s too young to know anything about adult relations, but it doesn’t make a difference,” I said. “I’m just not in a position to entertain male visitors right now. Good night,” I said firmly, stepping into my room and shutting the door.
I breathed a sigh of relief as Danny’s footsteps retreated down the hall. As the only woman under forty at the rooming house, I’d attracted my fair share of attention from the oilmen. Not a few had asked me out, and I’d finally consented to seeing a movie with a big puppydog of a man, Danny. He was harmless, even if he was six foot five and as wide as a refrigerator. But I just wasn’t ready to move on with another man. Thoughts of Luke still ran through my head, and my increasing belly only served to remind me of the one and only male I’d ever love.
I lay back on my shabby quilt and rubbed my belly gently. A fluttery kick moved against my hand and I laughed softly. He or she was going to be a soccer player!
I missed Luke desperately and glanced at the phone next to my bed. A call would be prohibitively expensive, but at the same time … I’d run out on him once with his child, and didn’t want to do it a second time. He deserved to know that he was going to be a father again, even if we couldn’t be together.
I tentatively picked up the phone and dialed his cell, his number memorized in my heart. A deep male voice answered and ground out, “Are you home?”
“Y-...Yes,” I stammered. How did he know who it was?
“I’ll be right over,” he growled and hung up. I lay back again, my head spinning. How did he know it was me? How did he know where I lived? A few minutes later, I heard the hum of an expensive car pull up outside the boarding house, and lifted my window shade for a peek. A Porsche was parked at the curb, its wheels steaming from the drive. An ominous-looking Luke got out of the car, catching my gaze at the second floor window, and my heart almost stopped. He was as darkly handsome as ever, his blue eyes penetrating with that massive build that made my mouth water. I darted downstairs and flung open the front door.
He didn’t say a word. I was caught in his embrace, his big arms circling my waist, his lips finding mine for an insistent k
iss. Ever the alpha, his tongue thrust between my lips, deepening our contact and unmistakably marking me as his territory. He dragged me up the stairs to my second-floor room, slamming the door shut behind us.
“What… what are you doing in Alaska?” I gasped. “How did you find me? How did you know where I live?”
“Shh, no words Wildflower,” he murmured in my ear. “Just feel.”
Gently, he removed my clothes, dropping the shabby plaid shirt and jeans to the floor. He was tender as he stroked my curves, lovingly cupping my breasts in the palms of his hands, running his fingers softly over my wet slit. When he got to my belly, he traced it reverently, murmuring, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
I flushed. “Yes, I was calling to say that you’re going to be a father again,” I said simply, letting my body tell its story. He pressed an ear against my burgeoning stomach, worshipping my new curves. “Wildflower,” he ground out. “I can’t wait.”
I knew what he wanted. I lay back on the quilt as he shucked off his clothes, his male member engorged and aroused. The ten inch length waved proudly in the cold air before he covered me with his body, his warmth surrounding me, penetrating me. With a growl, he took me fully in one motion, his cock entering my depths, making me a whole woman once again.
“Luke!” I cried out, my body rocking underneath his.
“Shhh, Wildflower, Wildflower,” he hushed, my name a prayer on his lips. He moved in me like the rolling waves of the sea, with a naturalness born of the surety of belonging. I clasped him to me, his broad shoulders a life raft as I was swept into the escalating whirlpool of sensations. I could feel my body trembling, the heat pooling between my legs and Luke seized a nipple in his mouth, the bud already hard as my pussy undulated beneath him.
DOUBLE HUGE: A Twin Stepbrother Romance (With BONUS book A Baby for My Billionaire Stepbrother) Page 12
