Omega's Stepbrother : An MPREG romance (Men of Meadowfall Book 3)

by Anna Wineheart

  “Gods, you’re tight,” Raph growled. He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from Wyatt’s ear, his chest heaving against his shirt. “Don’t—don’t know how long I can last.”

  Wyatt groaned. “Just fuck me, Raph.”

  Raph threaded his fingers through Wyatt’s hair. He turned Wyatt’s face toward his, pressed their lips together, and Wyatt moaned into his mouth. Raph’s tongue slipped inside, tangling with his. Raph tasted like salt, like teak. And Wyatt realized then that they weren’t just brothers—that they fitted together like alpha and omega.

  It should feel wrong. Instead, Raph thrust hard inside him, and everything felt right.

  “Harder,” he gasped. Raph hit his prostate. Wyatt arched, pleasure searing through his body.

  Raph noticed. He began to angle his thrusts that way, sometimes missing, sometimes grinding up against that sweet spot. Wyatt’s vision blurred, his body tensing up.

  “Like that?” Raph breathed against his lips, his cock a thick length inside Wyatt, pounding him into the bed. He kissed along Wyatt’s jaw, his arms strong around Wyatt’s back and chest, his abs rippling. Wyatt barely noticed. His body thrummed with hunger, his cock so hard that he’d spill the moment Raph touched him.

  Raph reached down, sliding his palm along Wyatt’s belly, down to the base of his cock. He pressed his lips against Wyatt’s neck, where his scent gland was. For a moment, Wyatt thought Raph might bite him there, claim him as his mate.

  The thought made him so hard it hurt.

  “I can’t hold on longer,” Raph growled, his breath soughing against Wyatt’s cheek. “Gonna pull out.”

  But Wyatt was so close. “No. Stay.” Wyatt caught Raph’s forearm, squeezing him. “Just—just a little more. Please.”

  “I c-can’t,” Raph hissed, the tendons on his neck strained. His hips stuttered. “Or I’ll put a baby inside you.”

  It sounded good, somehow. Wyatt couldn’t remember why that shouldn’t happen.

  He reached down, squeezing his own cock. One long, smooth stroke, and he tipped past the edge, pleasure crashing through his body, waves and waves and waves of bliss that washed through his mind, wiped his thoughts blank. His body clenched around Raph, his cock jerking as it spurted.

  “Fuck!” Raph slid out of him. Wyatt felt the hot, wet splashes of Raph’s come streak across his thigh, his ass. Raph rolled onto the mattress next to him, stroking himself, pressing his forehead against the sheets. “Damn it, Wy,” he gasped, sweat glistening on his skin. “The fuck d’you do that?”

  “Don’t know,” Wyatt muttered, collapsing into the mattress, trying to think past the haze in his mind. His body relaxed, his pulse slowing. That had been good. So damn good, and Raph had been so right for him, even after all these years.

  “I don’t—I can’t tell where I’ve shot,” Raph muttered, rubbing his face. “Gods damn it.”

  “What?” Wyatt blinked, the cogs of his mind slow to grind back into motion.

  Raph groaned. “I might’ve come inside you.”

  4

  Wyatt

  Raph’s words took a while to sink in.

  Then Wyatt’s insides chilled, just as quickly as he’d found his release. “No way. I mean. No. You couldn’t have.”

  All he could remember of his orgasm was the blinding high of it, the breathless, toe-curling pleasure that had seared through his body. Not where Raph’s cock had been right as it happened.

  Could Raph really have come inside him? Wyatt reached down, touched the sticky streaks on his thigh, his ass. There was come right outside his hole. Was there any inside?

  “Fuck,” he said, his heart pattering.

  “Yeah. Fuck. Think a douche might work?” Raph turned onto his side, cracking his eyes open. He looked grim then, and slightly regretful. Like he wished he hadn’t touched Wyatt.

  Wyatt swallowed. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that. Oh, gods. “A douche might push anything inside further up. I don’t know.”

  “Damn it.” Raph shuffled on the bed, propping himself up between Wyatt’s legs. From that angle, he got an eyeful of Wyatt’s cock and balls. But what was new, now that they’d fucked?

  Wyatt savored the memory of Raph inside him, so he didn’t have to think about getting pregnant, about the gut-curdling possibility of conceiving Raph’s baby. I should’ve just left.

  Nine years ago, he’d spent his heat with Max, an alpha he’d found at the bar downtown. At first, Max had seemed kind. He’d bought Wyatt a beer, and Wyatt had followed him home. Then Max had sneered, thrown Wyatt around, and Wyatt had borne the brunt of his violence. Wyatt had almost seduced Raph. He deserved punishment.

  For the next two months, Max had used him, had kept Wyatt around. He’d told Wyatt he’d been snipped, and then he’d fucked Wyatt every night, bareback. Wyatt had stayed. You deserve pain, Grandma had told him when he was five. You’re an ungrateful little child.

  Weeks after he’d moved in, Wyatt had begun to throw up in Max’s dank bathroom, thinking he was sick. Max had convinced him he’d be fine, that the nausea would blow over. Wyatt had believed him—what an idiot he’d been.

  He’d found out he was pregnant when he finally visited a doctor. Max had scoffed at the news. He’d told Wyatt that Wyatt had cheated, that he’d gotten pregnant somehow. And Wyatt realized Max had been lying to him every single day, that he shouldn’t have trusted Max at all.

  Max had thrown him out. Wyatt preferred to think he’d left of his own accord. Then he’d spent the rest of his pregnancy alone, until he’d met Sam Brentwood at a night class. Sam had become his new best friend, but over the years, Wyatt’s need for an alpha had never truly waned.

  And now, somehow, Raphael Fleming was back in his life.

  “Okay if I touch?” Raph asked.

  Wyatt blinked, his face burning when Raph’s words sank into him. “You’ve already touched everything.”

  Raph shrugged, his ears turning pink. “Just thought I’d ask.”

  He was so damn different from Max.

  Gently, Raph pressed his thumbs against Wyatt’s ass, spreading him open. Wyatt swallowed. This wasn’t something they did under the influence of hormones. This was Raph examining him with serious eyes, Raph easing his finger inside Wyatt, swirling it around, pulling it back out. Wyatt moaned.

  Raph dragged his thumb down the slick on his finger, studying it. “Fuck. I can’t tell if it’s from me.”

  “Do it again,” Wyatt said.

  Raph glanced at him. Then he pushed his finger back into Wyatt, crooking it, trying to capture a trace of his come. “You like that?”

  Wyatt’s body hummed. “You think?”

  Raph’s throat worked. He kept his finger inside, stroking Wyatt for minutes, never pushing further. Wyatt closed his eyes, relished his touch. Nine years, and Raph was here with him again. And they’d fucked. And Raph was still touching him inside. Maybe this was a dream.

  Raph withdrew and sighed, stepping over to the bathroom. “Not working. I’ll get you some morning-after pills.”

  Wyatt grimaced. “Ugh, no. I’m allergic to those. Don’t ask how I know.”

  Raph looked sharply over his shoulder. He frowned, washed his hands, then returned to the bed, settling down close by Wyatt’s side. “Hazel?”

  “Gods, how much did you find out, Raph?” Wyatt threw his arm over his face, tipping his face back. He’d spent years thinking Raph had moved out of Meadowfall, eager to put their past behind him. He hadn’t expected Raph to know Max’s name. And Hazel’s, too.

  “Some. As much as I could.” Raph set his hand on Wyatt’s arm, squeezing lightly. “Didn’t know there were people allergic to those pills. I thought they were just hormones.”

  “It’s the stuff they use to stabilize the hormones.” Wyatt winced. Those days had been terrible, when he’d tried one pill after another, and none of them had worked. “It varies across the brands. I tried about half of them, then I got too sick to try again.”

  Raph relea
sed Wyatt’s arm, then held his hand. Wyatt sighed, pressing his face into Raph’s thigh. Raph smelled like sweat, like chlorine and teak.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know,” Raph said.

  “It’s fine.” Wyatt squirmed closer to him. “It’s not something that concerned you, anyway.”

  Raph’s thumb brushed over the back of Wyatt’s hand. His knot had grown at the base of his cock, wide and dusky. Wyatt’s hole squeezed. That would’ve been a pleasure to take inside his body.

  “You’re not freaking out.”

  Wyatt sighed. “It’s not sinking in yet.”

  “Look, we’re brothers—”

  “Stepbrothers. Mom and Dad married.”

  “You think those people care about the details?” Raph narrowed his eyes, jerking his chin at the window. “I’m not leaving you alone with a kid like some goddamn bastard, okay? Dad’s gonna freak. So’s Mom.”

  Wyatt’s stomach plunged. He hadn’t thought about his parents’ reactions. “Oh my fuck. I can’t do this to them.”

  “Neither can I.”

  Like Wyatt, Raph loved their father. Dad had taken them on family trips to local recitals, had puffed his chest when Wyatt and his siblings performed for him. Mom had sewn suits for Wyatt and Raph, and dresses for Penny. She’d taught Raph to dance, and Raph had taught the foxtrot to Wyatt when Wyatt was eight.

  Wyatt remembered the pride on his parents’ faces when he’d told them he would enroll in college, when he wanted to study business so he and Raph could set up a company together.

  That dream had shattered a long while ago. Wyatt cringed at the thought of their disappointment, all over again.

  “If you get pregnant, we’re gonna have to abort the baby.”

  The word abort sent chills down Wyatt’s spine. He thought about the gleam of scalpels, the bright lights above an operating table. His scar itched; Wyatt rubbed his belly, and Raph’s gaze anchored on the silvery skin there. So Wyatt left his hand on top of his scar, as though he could hide his past from Raph.

  “I’m not thinking about it,” he said, burying his face in Raph’s solid thigh. “I’m not ready for this.”

  “We’ll have to be,” Raph said, stroking his fingers through Wyatt’s hair. “Dad’s got a couple of interviews coming up. National news and all. He might mention us at the news conferences.”

  “Tell him not to,” Wyatt groaned. He didn’t feel any different from an hour ago—maybe well-fucked, but not pregnant. “Maybe you’re thinking too much into this. Maybe you didn’t come inside me.”

  Raph sighed. “Fine. We’ll give it a week or two. I’ll check up on you after that, okay?”

  Wyatt gulped. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Except his body ached, his skin damp from sex, and he now knew the slide of Raph’s finger inside him, trying to search out his come.

  Raph slipped his hands under Wyatt’s arms, lifting him off the bed. Wyatt whined. But Raph wasn’t swayed—he walked Wyatt to the bathroom, sat him on the toilet, and ran a washcloth under the faucet. “Gonna clean you up.”

  Wyatt sighed.

  The bathroom looked the same as it had nine years ago—simple bath, a ceramic sink set into a marbled countertop. Except Wyatt’s drawings and stickers were gone. Like Grandma had ordered all traces of Wyatt to be wiped away.

  “Why’d you keep Hazel?” Raph asked.

  What Raph meant was, Why’d you keep Max’s baby when he’d abused you?

  Wyatt closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. It had been a difficult decision. He’d been afraid that the baby would end up looking like Max, and maybe he’d get panic attacks just by glancing at his child.

  But Hazel had ended up taking after Wyatt, from her hazel eyes to her blond hair. Wyatt had been beyond relieved when there wasn’t a trace of Max on her. Not that he wanted to remember Max at all.

  “I figured... it isn’t the baby’s fault,” he said, looking down at the C-section scar. The abortion pills had given him rashes, his body scorching with fever. A physical abortion meant he’d have to deal with a stranger’s touch.

  Keeping the child had been the only other choice, back then.

  Raph wrung the towel dry, dropping to a kneel in front of Wyatt. He wiped Wyatt’s face first, the warmth of the towel soaking into his skin. It felt good. Refreshing. Wyatt sighed, leaning into his hands.

  “I missed you,” he blurted. “Sorry I didn’t... didn’t contact you.”

  Raph met his eyes briefly. “I don’t blame you—I should be the one sorry. That afternoon... I should’ve been more careful. She could’ve dropped by any moment, and I knew we were playing with fire. It’s not your fault.”

  But Wyatt had all but begged Raph to touch him. Grandma had been watching them through the weeks prior, her eyes like a hawk’s. She’d always disliked Wyatt—she was Dad’s mother, and she’d wanted Dad to stay married to Dad’s first wife. Except Raph’s mom had died, and Dad had found a second wife when Raph turned seven—Wyatt’s mom.

  “Grandma’s your boss, isn’t she?” Wyatt asked quietly.

  Raph looked away. “She just owns the company. I don’t report directly to her.”

  The fact remained that they all owed Grandma something or other. As the owner of the Alpha Associates Bank, Grandma could very well sink Raph’s reputation like a rock. She owned the mansion their parents lived in, and she’d paid for all their education, back when they were growing up.

  Wyatt had dropped out of college when he’d found out that Dad had borrowed to pay for his tuition. He didn’t want his dad deeper in debt—Grandma liked keeping Mom and Dad under her control. Why they continued to stay in this mansion... Mom had refused to say, but Wyatt suspected it had something to do with Grandma.

  Raph dragged the washcloth along Wyatt’s throat, then down his chest, his arms. “If you’re pregnant... We’ll figure something out.”

  Wyatt’s stomach sank again. “I hope so.”

  “We will.”

  Raph rinsed the towel off, then wiped down Wyatt’s legs, and the creases between his thighs. Raph’s knot had receded by now; he looked good anyway, from the damp shirt clinging to his chest, to his strong thighs parted around Wyatt’s feet. And his eyes... Wyatt had always loved his eyes, blue as an ocean’s depths.

  “Just wanted to say you’re so damn brave,” Raph said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you. I should’ve.”

  Wyatt’s heart squeezed. Raph dragged the fluffy washcloth between his toes, then down his soles, and up his heels. When he was done with Wyatt’s feet, he looked up, meeting Wyatt’s gaze.

  Raph looked vulnerable in that moment, kneeling by Wyatt’s feet, his face so open.

  So Wyatt cupped his cheeks, leaned in, and kissed his forehead.

  “It’s not your fault, either,” Wyatt whispered, his pulse pattering. They were being too intimate as brothers. But as alpha and omega... it worked. It felt right. And he didn’t know which he should do—follow his heart, or his mind. “I shouldn’t have tried seducing you back then. You know, before.”

  “But today was fine?” Raph smiled crookedly.

  Wyatt swallowed. Today had been more than fine. It had been amazing—far better than any sex with Max. And maybe Wyatt should’ve let Raph back into his life earlier. Or maybe they shouldn’t have done this at all.

  Raph straightened, draped the towel on the edge of the sink, and pulled Wyatt to his feet. “C’mon. We shouldn’t be here. Are you staying for the rest of the party?”

  “No. I’m done. I was just here to say hi and drop the noodles—they’re probably gone by now. I told Mom and Dad I’d leave after a swim.”

  Blue eyes met his. Raph blinked. “Wait. The noodles...”

  “Wy’s Drive-In. Didn’t you dig that up?” Wyatt couldn’t help smiling, then. Raph had cared about him all these years, enough to know about his ex, and his daughter. And it warmed his heart, made his pulse skip.

  “Oh, fuck. I’d forgotten about that. So that tramp stamp on your back...�
��

  “It’s my restaurant’s logo. Without my name.” Wyatt turned to show it to him, laughing now. “You thought it was meant to seduce you?”

  Raph flattened his palms over his eyes, his cheeks darkening. “Damn it. I did that in front of the whole party.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Raph groaned. Then he dropped his hands and stepped in close, looking down at Wyatt. “You could’ve said it earlier,” he whispered, his breath feathering over Wyatt’s lips.

  “Maybe. But I wanted to see how you’d react,” Wyatt whispered back.

  They were brothers, he and Raph. But back in that piano room nine years ago, Raph’s lips had felt right on his. And Wyatt didn’t know what separated brothers from lovers; whether it was something physical, or emotional. Or maybe it was a blood thing, and they had no shared blood at all.

  He brushed his lips over Raph’s, a whisper of skin on skin.

  Then he stepped back, and held Raph’s gaze. “I should be leaving.”

  “Wait,” Raph said, reaching down, fingers meeting his bare thigh. His pants were rumpled somewhere on the floor. “Your number. Your email. Some way I can get in touch.”

  “Visit my website,” Wyatt said, grinning. “All my contact details are at Wy’s Drive-In.”

  “Bastard,” Raph murmured, but he was smiling, too.

  5

  Raph

  The door clicked, leaving Raph alone in the disused bedroom. For a moment, he didn’t move, merely stood watching the door where he’d last seen Wyatt.

  Gods, this was a mess. Raph rubbed his face, looking down at his damp legs, his spent cock. That shouldn’t have happened. He’d known, going in, that there was a risk of pregnancy. And they’d gone and done it anyway.

  I’ve just fucked my brother. What kind of sick alpha am I?

  The chances of an omega conceiving during heat were sky-high. Raph used condoms with other people, every time. Then he’d come back to Meadowfall, and he had to be stupid about going bareback just because Wyatt asked.