Double Huge:A Twin Stepbrother Romance(19)

You see, Luke and I are step-siblings, and our love is one that's  technically forbidden. We didn't know when we embarked on our  relationship two years ago, but when I'd found out, I'd immediately left  him, not wanting to smear this powerful, potent man with the shadow of  incest.         

     



 

It'd been too late for me though. I was already pregnant with Georgie,  and my joy upon finding out had been so overwhelming I'd nearly cried in  relief. I'd never be able to see Luke again, but I'd always have a  reminder of him in my beautiful boy with his grey eyes and raven hair  just like his father's.

Until one day, Luke had stumbled upon us. Georgie's resemblance to his  father had been far too strong to deny, and Luke had immediately swept  him up, beginning the whirlwind of activity that I'd always associated  with my strong, powerful alpha male.

He'd moved us out of the public housing projects to live with him in his  penthouse apartment in this exclusive gated community. But it hadn't  all been wine and roses  –  he'd been so angry with me for keeping Georgie  from him for the past two years that he'd raped me, forcing his cock  into my untested anal canal.

But I love him, have always loved him, and the rape was nothing more  than an act of love between two people furious at one another, but also  loving desperately. We had coupled in a wild, instinctual manner that  was one hundred percent consensual even though it was out of control and  brutal in some respects.

I'd still had his cum dripping out of me when he'd shepherded me off to  that charity event. And when I realized that he was going to force a  confrontation between myself and Robert Woodson, and reveal to his  entire social circle that he'd had a baby with his stepsister, I'd  completely collapsed, the world a whirl as the floor came rushing up to  me.

And here we were. I must have hit my head on something because I could  feel a dull throbbing pain on the back of my skull, and my thoughts were  still woozy from shock and disbelief.

How could Luke do this to me? To himself? How could we have normal lives  if we were outed to the public? We'd be shamed and humiliated. Even if  people were too scared to say anything to the rich and powerful Luke  Miller's face, there would always be whispers and sneaky glances, always  the hush of "Did you know  … ?"

I wasn't prepared to live like that. It's one thing for me to disappear  back to the projects where I was born and raised, but I couldn't stand  that my baby boy would be forever branded the product of incest. Georgie  deserved better, and I needed to make sure my son had a fair shot in  the world.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Luke




I was in my study, trying to get my eyes to focus on some spreadsheets.  After Alana's accident, I'd worked from home, not bothering to go into  Atlantis Records for the past week. Her vitals were good but there was  still no sign of life and I wanted to be there when she woke. So I'd  become her sentry, sitting by her bed through the night, hovering like a  watchful guardian over the beautiful blonde.

The only good part about this was Georgie. I'd held my son as we watched  over his mom, and the bond between us was deep and immutable. The  little boy had charmed me thoroughly. Even if we hadn't been  biologically related, the chubby child with his waving fists and  innocent eyes had completely won me over. I was more than in love  …  I  was head over heels with my son, hands down.

I'd tucked Georgie in for the night though, and sat staring at the  spreadsheets before me. I'd received calls and emails from various  friends and associates, asking about the blonde, curious if everything  was okay. And of course, there was the ominous voicemail from my  stepdad, requesting a callback.

Fuck it. I was my own man. My stepdad was gearing up for a political run  and wanted my help in fundraising. After all, I'm a powerful man in New  York City, and any public office is as much a function of money as it  is votes. But I couldn't see how to square this away  …  potential senator  has a grandson by his daughter and stepson? Potential senator is a  leading proponent of family values, except when it comes to his own  family? The press would have a field day. I groaned, the issues so  tangled with no clear moral guideposts.

Suddenly, I heard a soft rapping on the door.

"Thanks Conchita, I'll see you tomorrow," I called out. Conchita was our housekeeper cum nanny.

The door creaked open though, and I swiveled in my chair. It was unlike  Conchita to come in without being invited, and it must have been  something extraordinary. Instead, I saw a ghostly vision of Alana, thin  and terribly pale, slip into my office.         

     



 

Her long blonde hair hung loosely down her back, and she wore nothing  but a white silk robe that I'd put next to her bed. Bastard that I was,  my eyes immediately roved over her figure, noting the pale face and thin  hands, but also the fact that she must have been naked underneath the  robe. I could see the tips of her breasts cresting against the white  satin, and her thighs were smooth and delicious under the short hemline.

"Alana!" I started, bolting out of my chair. I rushed over to her and  grabbed her in my arms, holding her close, being careful not to break  her fragile bones. Her scent wafted up to me, sweet and natural, just  like a wildflower.

She relaxed against me momentarily before pulling away again.

"Luke, don't  … " she said quietly.

I wasn't sure if she meant "don't" physically or emotionally. She was  mentally fragile, sure, but it was also possible that she'd felt my  burgeoning erection against her tummy. I couldn't help it. Everything  about this woman turned me on, even when she was just up from her  sickbed.

"Down boy!" I mentally commanded my unruly dick. Fortunately, the  gravity of the situation seemed to restrain him somewhat, and he didn't  grow further, even if he didn't exactly deflate.

"Alana, are you okay?" I growled. "How do you feel?" My outpouring of  love and support was impossible to stop. Now that I knew that this woman  meant the world to me, I could hardly mask my feelings, instead  carrying on like a twelve year-old boy.

"Luke, I'm okay," she said softly, her hands lying on my chest. She was  so tiny against me, a gust of wind could blow her over in an instant.  And yet this brave, beautiful woman had borne a child on her own, and  raised him as a single mother for two years. My heart turned over again,  and I dropped a sweet kiss on her neck.

"Wildflower, tell me how you feel," I rumbled into her ear, nibbling at  her lobe and pressing more kisses against her neck. I felt her stiffen  but then relax in my arms, growing boneless and loose. I swept her up  and sat in the big couch in my office, cradling her like a child.

"Tell me what it is … " I breathed. Bastard that I am, I could feel her  little rump against my erection and he was growing hard again. I could  also see into the vee of her neckline, and the sight of those pale,  creamy mounds didn't help.

"Luke, I'm so confused," she murmured against me, nestling into my chest  as if seeking my heat. "How long was I out for? My head still hurts and  there's a pounding behind my eyes that just won't stop."

"Honey, you were out for a week. I was so worried. Everyone's been so  worried, including Georgie," I said. "But our baby boy is fine," I  continued. "He misses his mama, but he's been eating and growing like a  hungry two year-old."

"Oh my god, Georgie!" she cried. "I'd been weaning him, were you able to use the extra breast milk that I had?"

"Yes," I hushed. "We found the spare supply in the refrigerator and  Conchita has been feeding him a combination of your breast milk and  formula. Georgie's never been happier," I reassured her.

I didn't tell her that it'd been a delightful shock to discover that  she'd been lactating. When I'd seen that first wet spot on her patient  gown, I'd been confused. Georgie was almost two, wasn't he too old to be  breastfeeding? But the nurse had explained that some children breast  feed for much longer, and evidently my son liked the taste of his  mother's milk.

Plus, I'd been in charge of pumping her during her coma. The nurse had  explained that she needed to be pumped twice a day, and I'd dutifully  attached the mechanical pump to her nipples and let it whir as she lay  in her hospital bed. My feelings were mixed and deeply, dangerously  dirty. On the one hand, I was sad that my baby wasn't getting his milk  straight from his mother, but at the same time, I was secretly coveting  the warm, nutritious liquid he drank each day. On more than a few  occasions, I'd cleaned her up by lapping at her nipples after a pumping  session, savoring the taste of my Wildflower in a delicious new way.         

     



 

Even now, I could see a damp stain on the front of her white silk robe.  The material was so sheer that even a few drops would cause it to become  transparent, and I could make out her rosy nipples pressed against the  white fabric, her creamy mounds looking ripe and ready.