Marrying His Omega MM Non Shifter Alpha Omega Mpreg: A Mapleville Romance (Mapleville Omegas Book 7) Read online

  Copyright

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  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Marrying His Omega Copyright 2018 by Lorelei Hart

  Editor Wizards in Publishing

  Cover design by Fantasia Frog Designs

  ISBN: 978-1-68361-224-7

  Published by Decadent Publishing LLC

  Table of Contents

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  Free Short Story…

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Other titles by Lorelei M. Hart and Ophelia Heart

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Best friends in high school, football hero and alpha Chris, voted most likely to succeed, and shy omega Tak made a promise to one another on prom night—a promise to marry each other if they were both single when they turned thirty. But they hadn’t planned on the twists and turns of life that took them entirely out of one another’s worlds.

  Chris’s birthday has come and gone when an invitation catches up to him for a party for Tak’s thirtieth. Chris’s parents’ deaths forced him to quit college to take a job and pay their medical bills and other debts. Instead of a lawyer, he’s a truck driver. Quite a change from his original plans. What will his old friend think?

  Tak’s life has changed as well. He’s developed a great physique and become a successful antique store owner. But he’s never forgotten his first love—even if he’d never told the most popular boy in school how he felt.

  In their new reality, is true love enough for these two to make a life together? Especially with a baby on the way.

  Marrying His Omega is a sweet with knotty heat MM male pregnancy romance with true love, an adorable baby, and a guaranteed HEA. It is set in the town of Mapleville and can be read as a standalone.

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  Free Short Story…

  Catch up with Pierce and Rhone from Christmas with His Omega Here

  Dedication

  For our D. With love.

  Marrying His Omega

  By

  Lorelei M. Hart

  Chapter One

  Tak

  “I can’t come to a birthday party unless I know the date and time, Tak.” Vivian raised her hands in the air, causing her ever-present scarf to flow like she’d outstretched her wings. Vivian was from Mapleville, a town not so far from this one. She came into my shop regularly, and if I texted her with a special item, she came over night or day. Long story short, we loved Vivian, and she kept my shop alive.

  Vivian assumed that someone turning thirty was having a party to put all other parties to shame.

  Vivian would be right.

  My friend Will was planning one, probably as we spoke. He’d invited everyone from all the way back to kindergarten.

  And high school.

  “I know, Vivian. Trust me. Will said the invitations were in the mail. I don’t even know when it is, only that it’s next weekend. He asked me to shut down the shop for the entire weekend.”

  Her face lit up. The woman loved a good party. “Oh! Sounds like a weekend to remember. Maybe there will be some love connections there.”

  I barely restrained the eye roll. Vivian, in addition to having a good eye for antiques and loving to party, was quite the matchmaker.

  “Just let it be a birthday party, Viv. Please.” I laughed after saying it. She would never let it be just a party. There would be shenanigans. All the shenanigans.

  “I’ll do my best. Now, let’s see it.”

  I’d called her a few days ago about a new item in our store—a vintage high chair in need of some work, but of divine craftsmanship. Someone could turn it into a treasure. Not me, of course. I had the eye for it, but not the knowhow and certainly not the time.

  “Here it is.” I walked over to the corner of the store and pulled a cloth off the top of the high chair. Vivian had a fondness of all things baby, probably because both of her sons had kids, and she encouraged anyone within shouting range to give the world more babies.

  Her eyes enlarged, and her hands went to her chest. A glow brightened her features as she approached the chair. “It’s absolutely divine, Tak. Imagine it with an amber chalk finish and some carved-in details. I’m in love.”

  From her reaction, I believed it.

  “Name your price,” I said. We always played this game. It was no secret that Vivian was a well-off woman, and never once had she haggled with me over a price. But still, we held our cards.

  “Oh please, Tak. Must we do this. Name your price, lovey. Whatever you want. This is a gem.”

  So I did. I named my high price. And she agreed immediately.

  “So how long are you going to make me wait?”

  Chapter Two

  Chris

  You are invited to the 30th birthday bash for: Tak

  Come early, stay late. We’ll be partying all weekend!

  RSVP to Will at 555…

  The invitation caught up to me on my return from a cross-country trip, and a glance at the date told me it might be too late to RSVP. Even if my phone wasn’t missing again, probably trapped between the truck door and the seat, if it hadn’t fallen onto the ground. I needed to start keeping it somewhere besides my back pocket. Replacing damaged and lost devices was starting to get expensive.

  Anyway, the party was tomorrow. I could probably just show up, though, without calling. The theme of the event, according to a sheet of folded paper inside the invite indicated general rowdiness and inebriation, a last hurrah to youth.

  It wasn’t as if Tak had ever been rowdy. A little overweight, with problem skin, braces, and a bad case of social awkwardness, Tak had been on the fringes of our social group in high school. The guy who helped everyone with their homework but tended to get forgotten when really fun things were planned.

  He’d been my friend, though. A good friend I could talk to any time of day or night if I had a problem. He listened to me complain about dates, and I listened to him complain about loneliness. I tried to be there for him, and I think I usually was, but I was awfully busy with sports and the dates I complained about. After graduation, we both moved away from Mapleville.

  I wondered what he was up to after all these years. A brain wave like him was probably a professor or rocket scientist or something. And me? Turned out those who voted me most likely to succeed had erred.

  With a week b
efore my next contract, I would have no trouble attending the party, but should I? I’d lost touch with the old gang years back, and although I did have a vague Facebook connection with most of them, I didn’t spend a lot of time online. I tried to picture them all in my mind, both back then and in their online pictures. Most of them posted images by the hundreds, ready to share any and every aspect of their lives no matter how dull.

  Many of the guys were married, quite a few had children, good careers, homes they constantly remodeled, and pets. They posted every detail of children’s and pets’ lives. I didn’t do that. Besides work, I had only a beagle named Harry in my life, and Harry had no more desire to be on Facebook than me.

  Or Tak, apparently. While my old friend and the current birthday boy did have a small presence, he mostly “liked” their other friends’ posts and rarely added anything of his own. And now he was thirty. My birthday had passed without fanfare the month before. I’d spent it driving through Texas. Still, I didn’t begrudge my old buddy his event. The only question was whether I should show up. I lived a couple of hours away and had planned to lie low by the apartment pool that weekend with a few beers. Maybe hit a bar in the evening.

  The problem was, most of the guys who hung out at the local bars were in their early twenties. Just like the people from high school, those I’d played pool and darts with a few years before had married and settled down. I had nothing against the idea, just never met anyone I wanted that with. No other alphas seemed to have that problem.

  Maybe I never would meet anyone.

  Going to the party would probably just remind me that other people had lived up to their potential. Mates and kids and pets from their Facebook pages would be all over the place; they’d be wearing designer duds and talking about their stock market investments and summer homes.

  I had a truck. And my bike. Period. End of story. And lived in a second-story apartment filled with furniture bought all at once at a cut-rate store going out of business.

  They probably cooked from those grocery box delivery services, dishes with kale and quinoa, and duck breast properly seared to perfection. Okay, so I watched a cooking show from time to time…but living alone, only home for a few days between trips, I rarely cooked anything besides a microwave dinner.

  Dropping my duffel inside the front door, I headed directly for the shower. While on the road, I slept in the cab, which was fairly comfortable, and showered at the big travel plazas that offered services like that to people like me. Knights of the road. Long-haul truckers. No matter how they tried to keep the facilities nice, I never felt totally clean until I showered at home. It wasn’t fancy, but it was a space nobody but me got into naked.

  And didn’t that sound pathetic.

  Maybe I should hit a bar tonight, bring one of those young, single omegas home, and get my rocks off. What could it hurt? Stripping off my clothes as I walked from the bedroom into the bath, I tried to picture it. How long since I’d had anyone over? Friend or lover. Or one-night stand. Most of those—flirt and squirts as one of the waitresses I joked with called them—took place on the road and were satisfying for a day or so.

  My bathroom was as utilitarian as the rest of the place. The shelves over the tub were piled with decent, fluffy white towels, but otherwise, the place had no personality. I didn’t spend a lot of downtime here. I didn’t have a lot if business went well. The payment for the truck took a lot of work to keep up, but at least the semi was mine. Or would be in five more years.

  Standing under the spray, I lathered up, relishing the onset of cleanliness. I rubbed the bar of soap all over my chest, working it into the crisp curls and down my belly. Washing my junk, I paused then closed my foamy hand around my shaft and gave a squeeze. I’d be as much satisfaction from a quick jerk off as from some stranger, and less chance of weirdness. Last time I brought a guy home, he ripped off some of my clothes.

  The slippery lather made it easy to glide up and down my cock, tightening and releasing the pressure in the way I knew worked best. No frills here, just a happy ending. Coming soon. I chuckled at my pun, tipping my head back to let the warm water run over my body. The shower reminded me of the big room in high school where we’d all had to get naked and rinse off after gym.

  We’d pretended not to be interested in each other’s assets, but of course we looked. Catalogued. Judged. Rumor had it some of the guys decided who to ask out based on what they observed.

  Working my cock, I rocked my hips in time with my strokes, my other hand braced on the wall as my knees wobbled and the cum boiled in my balls. I painted the shower walls with the creamy white stream, staying upright by main will. As the last of the fluid poured down my dick, I rubbed it in then took down the handheld showerhead and cleaned it off me and the tile. I found the soap where it had somehow fallen from my hand and rubbed it all over me then rinsed. One thing I didn’t want to think too much about. More often than not in these sessions, a particular face appeared in my mind.

  The owner of the biggest dick in the locker room, although it wasn’t enough to make him popular in itself.

  I would go to the party. Visit with my old friends and maybe even take one of them up on an offer from long ago.

  Loneliness sucked. My grammy had an arranged marriage with Granddad, and they got along fine. Lived together for over fifty years before he died. They grew to love one another. Maybe they had it right all along.

  Either way, party it was. I had a week to kill and nothing better to do. I’d do all my laundry tonight and head out in the morning. Trudging out to the truck to look for my phone, I felt a little excited to see everyone. And by everyone I meant Tak. My old buddy.

  What was the worst that could happen?

  Chapter Three

  Tak

  I was singing while moving three vases when a knock startled me and I went from antique store owner to screaming vase juggler in less than a second. Well, at least now I knew I had another talent.

  I set the vases down gently and walked over to the door, heart still beating out of my chest. My antique shop was a little off the beaten path, but not by much—still close to the main highway. Still, I got a good amount of business, especially from people from the next town, Mapleville.

  But let’s face it. I was jumpy by nature.

  “What?” I threw open the door and was met by memory lane. Before me stood the physical embodiment of my fantasies, both juvenile and recent. He hadn’t changed a lot other than some more lines around his eyes, and he was less than I remembered. Then again, he didn’t play football anymore, or so I thought. Warmth built in my chest as I drudged up the courage to speak. “Chris? What…what are you doing here?”

  He smiled, and I was immediately taken back to high school where that smile got him anything he wanted and anyone he wanted as well. “Nice to see you, too, Tak. Is that how you greet all your customers?”

  He looked me up and down, trying to be coy and failing. I expected the reaction I usually get, which was a comment about looking good or how much weight I’ve lost.

  Except Chris didn’t say a damned word. Probably the only person in the world who I wanted to say something, and he didn’t.

  “No, of course not. You startled me. Sorry, I just didn’t know you were in town or that you even knew where I was.”

  Or that you even knew I was alive.

  He shifted back and forth on his heels, a little anxious maybe? Didn’t seem like the suave football player I used to know, but then again, I hadn’t seen him in years. He wore a T-shirt that pulled taut across his pecs and worn jeans that fit him just right.

  “I got an invitation from Will.”

  My mouth spoke before I could comprehend. “Oh, for what?” One of his eyebrows cocked. I could be such a dummy, especially around Chris. I’d surprised myself by not fainting. “My birthday, duh. Come on in. We’re not open yet, which is why you scared the living hell out of me.”

  I opened the door wider on purpose, wanting him to brush past me s
o I could inhale his scent. He could brush his whole body against me if he wanted to.

  I choked on my thoughts. “Do you want some coffee? Tea?”

  “Oh, sure. That would be great. The coffee at the hotel was…”

  “Disgusting is the general consensus. Someone needs to take over that hotel or build a bed-and-breakfast. Something.”

  I shuffled awkwardly as he assessed the place. Suddenly, I wished I had dusted the day before or cleaned or at least sprayed some Febreze. He touched a few items and then looked back at me.

  I blinked a few times, trying to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  Shit, I had to shake out of this.

  “Well, come on to the kitchen. I still have plenty from breakfast.” I heard his footsteps following me to the kitchen. When we were in high school, Chris was my best friend. We sat next to each other in every class, and I used to count on the sound of him coming into the classroom to get me through each hour.

  I bet he didn’t know that he was my rock during that time.

  “Tak,” Chris said and held onto my arm as I reached for the coffeepot. I gasped and willed the tears not to come.

  “Yeah?”

  He paused. “Can I…this is going to sound stupid.”

  “Can you what, Chris?” Take me to the bedroom? Take me right here on the kitchen floor? Take me out of this town where my love life is a dead end?

  “Can I give you a hug?”

  That wasn’t on my mental list, but I would accept.

  I circled my arms around his middle, and he wrapped his around my shoulders. We were about the same height, Chris maybe a few inches taller than me. His soft hair tickled my ear as I took in his raw and manly scent, all Chris. He always smelled like autumn to me. Not one specific thing, but everything about fall all wrapped up in one scent. Our bodies were flush against each other, and he inhaled softly as our hips made contact.