Let Me Love You: A Best Friend’s Sibling Romance

by Moore, M. K.

  “Oh, Jezebel, there is always time for me to make you come.” He says that so earnestly that I can’t—and won’t—deny him.

  “Why Jezebel?” I ask.

  “She was, by all accounts, a beautiful queen who didn’t give any fucks about who she associated with. Kind of like you and your scandalous books,” he says shrugging. I turn and face him, kissing him softly. He makes me so fucking happy.

  Jezebel? I don’t hate it. It’s sexy and makes me think of decadent and sinful biblical whores. What lives they must have led! Oh, to be a fly on the wall back in the day.

  “If you must make me come, do so,” I say dramatically, as if I could actually deny him. I don’t have enough willpower for that.

  What was supposed to be a quick tasting, turned into forty-five minutes of mind-blowing pleasure. Besides the taste-test, he fucked me three times. God, I thought I was sore this morning. I am now walking like a cowboy at the end of a long trail ride.

  The plane ride to Vegas is uneventful. My dad got us upgraded to first class, but I didn’t tell him why I was going. I let him assume it was a book thing. While my dad is extremely proud of me and tells all of his friends about me, actually reading the lady porn I write makes him uncomfortable, and I understand that.

  “Baby,” he says once we are in the Uber. “I just picked a wedding chapel from a list that came up on Google and made an online reservation.”

  “Perfect,” I say. I just want to get married, plans of any further nature seemed unimportant six hours ago. I like that he is taking the reins. He is also holding my hand tightly. It’s like he thinks I am going to disappear.

  In all of my travels, I have never been to Vegas, but Malachi has, for a bachelor party a few years ago. He chose the hotel we are on our way to now. The Mirage is a beautiful hotel for sure.

  “Any second thoughts?” he asks me.

  “Fuck no, you?”

  “Nope, you’re fucking mine,” he says, growling and nuzzling into my neck.

  “Mm-Hmm,” I moan and move my hips, trying to get closer to him then he sucks lightly on my pulse point. His head snaps up when the male driver makes a strangled sound.

  “Eyes on the road, asshole,” he barks at the guy. I can’t help giggling. “Baby, those sounds are just for me. I don’t want anyone else hearing what belongs to me.” The way he says it has me shuddering. I feel like the most powerful woman in the world right now. He’s like every book boyfriend I’ve ever written or read about. He is my friggin’ slice of perfection. I nod and tip my face up for him to kiss again.

  “I’ll be a good girl, I promise,” I say with a hint of mischief.

  “You better be, you don’t want a spanking, do you?” he asks, smirking at me. The driver clears his throat and pulls the car to a stop in front of the hotel.

  I shake my head no, but that’s a lie.

  I think I’d like that very, very much.

  Chapter 6

  Malachi

  A Spanking? Spanking a woman has certainly never even been on my radar before but with Mallory, my sweet little Jezebel, I find that I want to do everything to her. With her. Jealousy has never been my thing either, but she brings it out in me. God, I would do anything to keep her safe and keep her all to myself.

  First things first though. I climb out of the Uber with our suitcase and help her out, slamming the door behind her. I can barely resist the urge to flip the driver off. Tucking her under my arm, her ample ass even fits next to me because we are perfection together.

  I lead the way to the rest of our lives. I would have rather gone straight to the wedding chapel, but as I am pulling her gigantic hot pink suitcase behind me, I decide it’s better to head to the hotel first. Once inside the lobby, we make our way to the front desk.

  “Hi, I have a reservation,” I say to the clerk. I glance around the lobby quickly, but nothing sticks. I can’t take my eyes off of my fiancée, even for a minute.

  “Perfect, welcome to The Mirage. Can I have your ID and a credit card?”

  “Of course,” I hand over what she needs. She is quick and efficient.

  “Alright, Mr. Goranson. You are in room 2002. That bank of elevators just over there,” she says pointing to the ones nearest to us, “will get you where you are going. Good luck and enjoy your stay in Las Vegas.” She hands me my ID and my credit card. Best one hundred and fifty dollars I ever spent, hands down. I put those back in my wallet, sign her iPad and then take the keys she hands me.

  “Thanks,” I say, grabbing Mallory’s hand and practically dragging her to the elevators.

  “What’s the rush, Malachi?” she asks, giggling. Once the doors of the elevators close and we are alone, I embrace her and begin peppering her face with kisses.

  “I want to get this dropped off, change and then I want to be your husband, Jezebel. You have no idea how much I need that.” Since we are alone in the elevator, I take advantage of that and kiss her neck, dipping into the hollow of her throat. She rubs herself on me, like she could come just from this minimal touch.

  “I have some idea,” she moans, dropping her head to my chest. I lift her head so that I can take her mouth. I sip and savor her lips. When her tongue darts out and finds mine, it takes everything in me not to fucking claim her in this elevator. Thankfully, the ding of the elevator arriving on the twentieth floor saves me from doing just that. Our room is the second on the right. I fumble with the key as her fingertips dance teasingly down my chest, only to toy with the waistband of my jeans and then back up.

  “Jez, you keep that up and you will be getting married with my cum dripping down your legs,” I say as I manage to finally get the door open.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing, like I don’t want that,” she says seductively. I dump the suitcase on the bed unceremoniously.

  “You’re killing me,” I groan.

  “So, do we have time to make that a reality or should I just get ready?” she asks with a wink. I look at my watch, seriously contemplating this, but we do not have time, unfortunately.

  “Get dressed, Jez. There will be plenty of time for that later, in fact, we’ll have the rest of our lives for that.”

  “Aye, aye Captain America,” she says, giving me a mock salute. I frown. That is quite possibly the worst nickname she could give me. She doesn’t notice as she grabs a few things from the suitcase and flits into the bathroom. I don’t like the thoughts I have when she calls me that. My chest tightens as I think about all I’ve lost. I’m starting to realize that things happen for a reason though. If I hadn’t needed this time to adjust, I wouldn’t have met Mallory when I did. Because of her close friendship with Margo, I would have met her eventually, but it would have been too late. She would have been snapped up by some other man and I find that I don’t like the thought of that at all.

  “Is now a good time to tell you that I don’t believe in birth control? I know you know I’m not on it right now, but I never will be either,” she says, popping her head out of the bathroom. I let that sink in for a minute. I have taken her bare countless times now. I imagine her round with my child. Children were always a distant idea when I was younger. After the accident, I didn’t think that would ever be an option, but now I can see that future so clearly.

  “That’s not a deal breaker, Jez. We didn’t really talk about it before, the heat of the moment and all, but I swear I’m clean.”

  “I never thought you would put me in any danger.”

  I smile at the trust she has in me. I would die before I let anything happen to her. She gives me her megawatt smile and closes the bathroom door. I change my shirt to a white long-sleeved button up, deciding that my jeans and boots are good enough. We are cutting it close when she comes out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later.

  “Fuck, you look gorgeous, Jez,” I say honestly. The short, tight black dress and red heels are sexy as fuck. What surprises me is her hair. What was straight a few minutes ago is now curly and wild. I can’t stop staring at it. She
nervously plays with it.

  “This is what it looks like normally. It’s so much work to make it straight,” she says.

  “I love it. It suits you. Wild and carefree,” I say, reaching my hand out to touch one of the silky curls.

  “Oh good, I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.”

  “Jez, you could be bald, and I’d still love you,” I say, kissing her glossed lips. She isn’t wearing any other makeup and she looks so innocent. Until you get to that dress. The deep V plunges down into her cleavage. I am going to have to kick some ass tonight, I can feel it.

  “You say that now, Cap, but I know better.”

  “Are you going to keep calling me that?” I ask impatiently.

  “Calling you what?”

  “Captain America or some variation of that?”

  “Are you not a former Army captain?” she asks, hands on her hips.

  “Well, yes, but I'm no superhero. Not anymore.”

  “You gotta stop that, Malachi. I need you to realize that superheroes, real-life superheroes anyway, don't wear capes or have special shields. You’re a true hero, and the fact that you no longer have a leg doesn’t change that fact. You need to let that shit go. I can’t survive the next fifty plus years with this bothering you.”

  I don’t say anything at first, because what can I say? I pull her into a hug and hold her.

  “I’ll try, Jez.”

  “Well I guess that’s all I can ask for.” She laughs. “Are we getting married, or what?” Now it’s my turn to laugh.

  “Fuck yes we are. Let’s go,” I say as I realize I need to let go of my demons for both our sakes.

  I lead her out of the room and into the elevator. Unfortunately, there are people already inside, so there won’t be a repeat performance of earlier. Once out in front of the hotel, there are already taxis lined up, so we grab an empty one and head to the Best Wedding Chapel in the World. They’re a one-stop shop. When we enter the chapel, I see that a Star Trek themed wedding is just finishing up. I can’t help smiling. The small chapel is kind of kitschy, but it works.

  “Have you given any thought as to what kind of wedding you want?”

  “It really doesn’t matter, Malachi. Like, not in the least. I just want to be your wife.”

  “So, if I said I wanted to have a Lord of the Rings themed wedding you’d be cool with that?”

  “I’ll put the elf ears on now,” she says.

  Once we step up to the reception desk, I’ve already decided on a simple ceremony without all the bells and whistles.

  “Welcome the Best Wedding Chapel in the World, I am Gina. I’ll be your wedding planner tonight.”

  “Hi Gina. I’m Mallory and this is Malachi.”

  “Well, you guys are already leaps and bounds ahead of our other guests.”

  “How do you mean?” Mallory asks.

  “You’re both sober,” Gina says, grinning.

  “Well, that we are,” I say.

  “Alright, we have several different packages to choose from, but they all include photography and a video, as well as the marriage license fee for Clark County. All you have to do is sign it and we take care of the rest. The final copy will be mailed by the registrar’s office within five business days.

  “That sounds good. We just want a traditional package,” I say, pulling out my credit card and handing it over.

  “No problem. We can do traditional for one hundred and ten dollars. We can have you in and out in about ten minutes too. I just need to see your IDs.” Both Mallory and I hand them over as she continues, “Have either of you been married before?” Gina asks.

  “No,” we both say at the same time.

  While Gina is busy ringing us up, I feel Mallory tug on my arm. I look down at her.

  “What’s wrong? It’s too late to change your mind. I won’t let you go now,” I tease.

  “Oh God no, it’s not that. I just feel like I should tell you something before we get married,” she whispers. I lean down closer to her, so I can hear her better.

  “What is it?” I ask hesitantly.

  “I have lots of money. Honestly more than I could ever spend in this lifetime. I won’t keep things from you, and this seems like it’s really important. My mom told me not to tell guys this fact because they would be intimidated by it. I don’t get that vibe from you, so I am telling you.”

  “You’re right, I should sign a prenup.” I would do anything to make sure she is protected.

  “That’s not what I was saying,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t believe in divorce either, so you’re stuck with me and my millions, Cap.”

  “That hardly seems fair,” I say.

  “Fuck that noise, Malachi. I am only telling you, so you won’t be surprised later. I have invested wisely, we’re set for life.”

  “No baby, that’s your money,” I say.

  “Is this a deal breaker? Cause I will give it all away if it is. I’ll never stop writing, but I don’t need the money.”

  “Nothing is a deal breaker, Mallory. Success is sexy, and you wear it well.” I kiss her. I’m not sure for how long, but I stop when I hear Gina clear her throat. I should probably tell her that I’m loaded too, but for some reason, I don’t.

  “Alright lovebirds, we’re all set. Pastor Ted will be with you in a moment. Can I get you to sign the credit card receipt? Do you want flowers, Mallory?”

  “No thanks, I am allergic to most flowers.” I didn’t know that, so I tuck it away for future reference.

  There’s probably a lot that I don’t know about her, but we have the rest of our lives to figure it out.

  Exactly nine minutes later, we’re husband and wife.

  Wearing a wedding band isn’t something I ever saw in my future, but it feels right. We take some pictures and get our copy of the unofficial Nevada license as well as a fancy one the chapel provides. With pictures and a thumb drive with the video of our ceremony we head back out into the cool Vegas night air.

  “So, Wife, you don’t believe in birth control or divorce is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, let me guess. Catholic?”

  “Born and raised. I know you are too. Margo goes with me and my parents to Sunday Mass at St. Bridget’s in Brooklyn,” I say.

  “It’s a small world. There’s only one Catholic church in Cody.” I chuckle looking down at my wife. My wife. I am bursting with love for this woman.

  “I know. Margo told me all about it.”

  We walk hand in hand down the Strip, looking for a restaurant. We finally spot a nice steakhouse and make a beeline there.

  It’s late and we are seated quickly. Our return flight leaves at six tomorrow morning, so we don’t have time to soak up the atmosphere, but from the looks of it there is always something to do here.

  “Are you happy, Wife?” I ask once we’ve ordered.

  “Very much so, Husband. I can’t believe we got married in secret. I can’t wait to shout it from the rooftops,” she says, bouncing in her seat.

  She’s somehow adorable and sexy as fuck at the same time.

  All I can think about is sinking into my wife and filling her with my seed.

  Chapter 7

  Mallory

  My ridiculously hot husband is staring at me so intensely that I’m starting to wonder if I have food in my teeth or dribbling down my chin or something.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Are you ready to get out of here?”

  “I am.”

  I pay the bill and we walk out of the restaurant. I follow my husband, flipping my brown hair over my shoulder. This is the longest it’s not been in a messy bun forever. It annoys me, but I’d never cut it short again. The one time in seventh grade was enough.

  “Do you want to walk, or should I get an Uber?” Malachi asks.

  “I wouldn’t mind walking off that huge dinner.” As soon as I say it, I regret it. I’ve got to start taking his needs into account. I’m sure he's in pain
, but from what little I know about him, he’d never tell me. He takes my hand in his and we take off down the sidewalk.

  The sight of all the lights blazing and the people still out partying, despite the fact that it’s Christmas time, is quite inspiring. In fact, a brand-new story idea comes to me. I stop us in front of a fountain and take a couple selfies with him. In one, we hold up our rings, smiling like it’s okay if the world ends tomorrow. As I scroll through the pictures, I can't get over how totally different I look from the person I was just two short days ago. Has it only been two days? Two days in which everything has changed. I also look completely happy. My skin is glowing and my eye shine more brightly than usual.

  Honestly, I usually am happy, but this is like elation or something.

  Forty-five minutes later, we’re back in the room. I kick off my shoes by the suitcase and drop my dress in it. I whip off my bra and panties as well. I'm exhausted, so after using the bathroom, I grab my lotion to begin my normal nightly moisturizing routine. When I turn to ask Malachi a question, I see him sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers. His prosthetic is still on, but I can tell from here that he’s in pain. I move closer to him and drop to my knees in front of him.

  “Let me help?” I ask. When he nods, I look down and see that the prosthetic just kind of fits the residual limb and it comes off with little effort. I set it to the side and gently roll the open-ended sock-like covering off of him. His skin is dry and angry looking. There are new open wounds from where his leg rubbed him the wrong way.

  His scars are more pronounced then they were yesterday morning. I push the top open on my lotion and pour some into my hands, briskly rubbing them together to warm it up before I touch him with it. I carefully rub the lotion onto his skin, taking my time. I have an overwhelming need for him to know this doesn't bother me. So, once the lotion is all rubbed in, I lean down and place gentle kisses on the scars, before lightly tracing the tangled web with my fingertips, memorizing the jagged lines. My touch isn't meant to be sexy right now, I just want to comfort him and soothe the redness that I’m sure was caused by my thoughtlessness.