by Moore, M. K.
He moans after I start to massage him.
“Shit. Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“Quite the opposite, Jez.” It’s then that I see the outline of his huge, hard cock through his boxers. Boldly, I let my fingers graze it through the fabric, before I pull the waistband down and he springs free with a wet thud on his abs. There is already moisture gathered at the tip, so I bring my lips down on him and taste him. It's my turn to moan, his taste is nothing like I expected. Salty and delicious. I take him fully into my mouth. Never having done this before, I call upon all my researching skills and utilize what I’ve learned from porn and Google. He groans and uses his hands to tightly grip my hair when I take him to the back of my throat, gagging a little. That seems to turn him on more, his hips thrusting, so I do it again.
“Easy, baby. You don't want to hurt yourself,” he says. I keep sucking his delicious cock until I am rewarded with his come. I had no idea sucking cock would turn me on so much. I have a feeling it was just because it was him though. He pulls me up from the floor and into his lap, my dripping wet pussy dragging along the length of his still-hard cock. Even that little bit of contact has me panting. His upper body strength is out of this world.
“I don't want to hurt you,” I say, finally regaining the ability to think and speak coherently. I try to climb off of him.
“Nonsense, baby. You plant your tiny pussy over my cock, so I can bury myself inside you.” I put my palms on his shoulders and do what he asks, riding him until I come screaming his name. My fingernails digging into his shoulders and back. I feel rope after rope of his seed filling me.
Breeding me.
Owning me.
I cling to him, placing little kisses on his neck and chest, soothing all the marks I just put on him. When he lets me go, I mourn the loss.
We stay up all night talking, eating room service, and making love. I am sore and exhausted by the time we have to get ready to go the airport. I've barely gotten any sleep in the last two nights and it's catching up with me.
I'm not a morning person at all, but I smile when Malachi instinctively realizes this and immediately takes me to Starbucks as soon as we get to the airport. Once I’m properly caffeinated, I perk right up.
We both catch some much-needed sleep on the way home, but not enough. The flight is full of turbulence. When we get back to New York, we arrive just in time. They’ve started cancelling flights left and right due to the huge snowstorm barreling down on the Northeast. It is snowing so hard, it takes us ninety minutes to go the seventeen miles from JFK to Madison Ave. I stop off at The Pierre, the fancy place Gwen has been staying, to pick up Giggles. It looks like Luna, Gwen’s daughter, painted her toenails. How freaking adorable. Getting out of the cab in front of our building is difficult in the icy slush. I’m freezing and the coat I’m wearing is too light. I dash into the building, dragging the suitcase behind me while Malachi follows close behind, carrying Giggles under his coat.
Once inside, I see that there about fourteen unmarked cardboard boxes in the foyer.
“I hope it's okay that I had my work stuff delivered. It is sensitive equipment,” he says.
“Of course, silly. You live here now.” I beam at him. Taking my husband’s hand in mine, I stand on my tip toes to get near to him when I ask, “When are we gonna tell our families?” I ask as soon as the thought pops into my head. He sets Giggles in front of the couch and she plops down into her burrow of blankets.
“I say we do it as soon as they get here, since the four of them will be together.”
“Good idea. I'll FaceTime Margo tonight and see how she's settling in and tell her.”
“That's good. I'm going to get this equipment set up in Margo's room for now.” He turned from me when an idea hit me.
“Why not use the other half of my office? Unless you need privacy?”
“No, I’d like working with you. I have a desk being delivered sometime next week, I am not entirely sure when. The snow is really coming down out there.”
“That sounds good. I’ll help move the boxes for now. We definitely need to hit up Staples for office supplies, but with this weather, it might be a good idea to wait,” I say.
“Probably. You do love office supplies, don't you?” Malachi teases.
“How do you know that?”
“I may have Facebook stalked you,” he says with a shrug. I burst out laughing and get to work on the boxes.
Later in the evening, I venture out into the cold because we don't have any food and I'm starving. Who knew getting married and having constant sex would make you so hungry? I make a mental note to add that to my books. There was no way I could have known that before I met Malachi.
I hail a cab because it's colder than a witch’s tit outside with a light snow still falling. I need everything including basics like ketchup, so I get a big cart at the store. Living in the city, I never really do what I like to call “big grocery shopping.” I typically buy what I need for the day since I don't have a car. Today, I'm feeling pretty domestic, so I buy everything I can think of. I am going to cook tonight for the first time in a while. I used to do it all the time, since my mom worked long hours, but since I’ve been on my own with no one to cook for, I’ve fallen into the takeout wormhole. That is what happens when there is literally every type of food on the planet crammed into one area.
Once I'm ready to check out, I order an Uber and wait patiently.
The ride is quick. Once I step out of the car and turn to start gathering everything I bought, it becomes apparent that I have seriously underestimated just how many bags I ended up with. Thankfully, the trunk of the little Prius that picked me up is quite spacious, and Thomas is here to help me. To add to the chaos of the moment, the paparazzi—who weren't here this morning—are now out in droves. Great. I look like a bum and I just bought enough to feed a small army.
“Ms. Greer let me handle these for you, you go on up. They are all in a tizzy about something,” Thomas says, and I nod.
“Mallory, Mallory. Over here.” I look at a reporter who, by the looks of it, probably hasn’t showered in a month. “Any truth to the story coming out of Vegas that you got married yesterday?”
“No comment,” I say immediately, mostly out of habit. But I now realize that if I want to control this story, which is already out there in some capacity, that I need to say something. I just hope our mothers forgive me for telling them like this. “Sorry. Habit, you know.” That gets a few chuckles, but the cameras are flashing away, blinding me. I hold up my hand, wiggling my fingers. “I did get married last night. So, forgive me if I am anxious to get back to my bed,” I say, winking saucily.
“And your husband is?” another reporter asks.
“Retired Army Captain Malachi Goranson.” I really hope and pray he doesn’t mind being in the spotlight.
“And you love him?” A pretty female reporter asks me. Her voice is so soft and so unlike the others out here that I know she is different. She looks so well put together. I instantly have a good feeling about her.
“Of course, I do. You’ve read my books, right?” she nods eagerly. “Then you know that I wouldn’t get married without absolutely being in love. Thanks guys have a good day. You,” I say to the lady reporter. “Come with me.” I listen as her male counterparts’ groan in protest.
“Me?”
“Yeah.” She follows me inside where Thomas is waiting with all my groceries. “I like your style. What’s your name?”
“Marissa Gordon. I work for Gesture Magazine.” I love that magazine. It’s my go-to. In fact, I have the latest issue in one of these bags.
“How would you like an exclusive?” I ask, taking some bags from Thomas. When Marissa does the same after putting her tape recorder in her bag, I know we are going to be excellent friends.
“I’d love one,” she says as Thomas calls the elevator.
“Good, we’ll set something up, right now I’ve got to cook for my man. You had dinner yet?”
“I got that pretty much instantly.” I smile as we step into the elevator. “Eat dinner with us and we can discuss.”
“Sounds good. I knew you were down to earth. Not bitchy like some others have been saying,” she says turning red. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” I cut her off. “Don’t worry about it. I am bitchy when I have to be,” I say, laughing. She joins in and so does Thomas. We get off on my floor and walk the five doors down to mine.
“This place is really fancy,” Marissa says as she looks around the hallway.
“Out here might be, but it’s another world in here,” I say honestly. I set my bags down and dig in my pockets for my keys. Once the door is open, I have thirty seconds to disarm the security system. I do so immediately. “Thanks, Thomas.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Greer. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will, thank you.” He closes the door behind him.
“Baby?” I hear Malachi yell from the bedroom.
“In the kitchen,” I say already putting stuff away. Marissa is unpacking bags like she lives here, causing me to smile.
“You were gone a while,” he says coming into the kitchen. Thank God, he’s still fully dressed. I’ve learned in the last couple of days, he’s just like me—the less clothes the better. But I don’t want another woman seeing what’s mine. Man, I got possessive and jealous really quick.
“I went shopping and found a reporter to bring home. Marissa, this is my husband, Malachi.” They shake hands.
“Nice to meet you, Marissa.” He regards her wearily, but I am almost a hundred percent sure he has nothing to worry about.
“You too.”
“Uh, baby. I thought we weren’t telling people yet?”
“They already knew, and I wanted to stay ahead of the story as best we could. Marissa was the only normal reporter down there. The rest gave me the creeps. There was no way I was leaving her down there with them.”
“I get it, baby. Should we call our moms?”
“After dinner. I’m starving. I’m thinking pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Sound good?”
When they both agree, I mentally fist bump.
Breakfast for dinner is where it’s at.
Chapter 8
Malachi
We each call our parents after dinner. My mom is thrilled that we got married and pissed that it was in Vegas and she wasn’t invited, but I think she’ll get over it. She loves Mallory. We get pretty much the same scolding from Mallory’s mom.
At the God-awful hour of five the next morning we head to the airport together. In the cab, Mallory calls Margo on FaceTime. We sort of ran out of time last night since Marissa stayed until ten, and then we went straight to bed right after she left. We really enjoyed her company; I think we will be hanging out with her more in the future. I was a little surprised that she randomly brought a stranger, a reporter at that, home with her. After five minutes in her presence, I knew Mallory was right about her.
“Hey lady. Why do you look like that?” Mallory asks Margo. She does look odd. Flushed and blotchy. Her hair is a mess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my sister look so unkempt. At least, not since she started high school.
“Like what?” Margo asks, smirking. I didn’t even know she could smirk.
“Like you’ve had sex,” Mallory blurts out. Unfortunately, I have just taken a sip of a hot coffee we got from the shop in the lobby of our building. I choke on the coffee, but marvel at how quickly I feel like we belong together in every way.
“How the hell can you tell that?” Margo whispers, looking around her little Parisian house, and I die a little bit. I also hear male laughter, so it is safe to assume he's still there. No brother should ever have to hear about their little sister having sex. Ever.
“Girl, please. I have the same look on my face. I wasn’t talking about your electric socket hair look or the hickeys you are sporting.” God. The blotches are hickeys? Kill me.
“You had sex? With who?”
“Since I’m so excited, we’ll come back around to you. I got married,” Mallory says excitedly.
“What!” Margo shouts. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.” Margo’s big grin tells me she is happy for her best friend.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” Mallory replies.
“I haven’t, I’ve been uh, busy,” Margo says and I almost gag. Why is this happening to me? “So who did you marry? That hot cover model from Ryan’s Kiss? Didn’t you guys like each other? Oh, tell me it’s him.” I can’t help my primal growl at my sister’s words.
“God no, Margo. It’s Malachi.” Mallory grins.
“Malachi what?”
“Malachi is my husband.”
“What the fuck? You just met,” Margo shouts into the phone.
“I know that, Margo, but we’re in love,” Mallory says, close to tears.
“You don’t even know him. This is going to end in disaster, and you won’t even want to be in the same room together.”
“It’s not going to end up in disaster, Mags,” I say, moving the phone so she can see me. My little sister has the innate ability to piss me off without even trying, but this is too much, even for her. I’m about to lose my shit.
“Gah,” she shrieks. “You scared me.”
“Believe me, your conversation scared the shit out of me, so we are even.” I say with a laugh.
“Shut it, asshat. You guys, I love you both, but I also know you both very well. You aren’t suited to each other, trust me. You are like complete and total opposites. I'm sorry. I can’t, and I won't, get behind this catastrophe.” Wow. I don’t have words for this shitshow right now.
“Gee thanks, Margo. You're supposed to be my best friend,” Tears fall down Mallory’s face. “How can you act like this? I can’t deal with you right now. We’re going to pick your parents up. I’ll talk to you later,” she says before hanging up on her.
“Don’t cry, baby. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’ll see, baby.”
“You don’t think she’s right?”
“Hell no,” I say as we pull up to the curb at the airport. My phone chimes in my pocket. I pull it out and see that it’s a text from Margo. You know I'm right bro. Who the fuck does she think she is? I choose not to respond. I don't have anything to say to her right now. She made my wife cry. If I say anything now, it will be something I'll regret later.
“That will be twenty-five bucks,” the cabbie says. I pull thirty out and hand it to him. We get out of the car and I pull her close to me.
“I love you, Mallory, and nothing and no one can change the way I feel about you.”
“Promise?” she asks, sniffling.
“I promise, forever and a day, baby,” I say, kissing her.
Going into the airport, I check the arrivals. My parents just landed, so we head over to the baggage claim carousel to wait for their luggage.
“Oh, I love you too Malachi.”
“I know you do, baby. I know you do.”
You know how I know? She doesn’t look at me in disgust when my prosthetic is off. She cares for me in a way I didn’t think was possible. She is also upset by the harshness of my sister, who is usually the nicest person in the world. I sense that she is feeling overwhelmed. Like this was too much, too fast. I want to help her with that, but it is the opposite of how I am feeling. I feel grounded for the first time ever.
As a kid, I wanted to get out of Cody and see the world. Even while I was in the Army, I wanted more. Now, I’ve found it in spades and no matter how sudden it is, only a fool would throw it away—throw her away. I hold her soft, delicate hand in mine and rub circles on the back of her hand.
“They’re here,” Mallory says, her smile once again on her face. I can’t help feeling that it i
s entirely put on. Like she is a girl who smiles no matter how upset or sad she is.
I pull her in for another quick kiss. She kisses me back like nothing is wrong.
“You okay, baby?” I ask because I need to be sure. Her happiness is
important to me.
“Yep. I’m not going to let Margo get me down. I know this is real and so do you. No one else matters in this equation,” she says with such confidence, I have no choice but to believe her.
“I agree, Mallory,” I say as my parents come over to us.
“Hey, Ma. Dad,” I say. My mom walks right past me and pulls Mallory into her arms. My dad gives me a great big bear hug.
“How you doing, son? A married man now. Lots of broken hearts back home.” I roll my eyes, but in doing so I notice Mallory staring at me, anger flashing in her eyes. She’s cute as hell when she’s possessive. I can’t help my laughter, which causes her eyes to narrow.
“Dad, please. Those girls never liked me. Don’t rile Mallory up,” I say.
“Alright son, I was just teasing you,” he says, laughing.
I saw my mom about two months ago when she came to DC. Before that, they met me at Walter Reed six months ago when I was transferred there from Colorado. “Your sister just called in hysterics. Said you were an idiot. Your mother told her to mind her own business. What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. But honestly we’re both adults. We don’t need you to run interference anymore,” I say, rolling my eyes. What twenty-three-year-old woman tells her parents on her thirty-year-old brother?
“You’ll learn soon enough that a father’s work is never done. That is, if you two plan on having kids.” Fuck, I hope so. I’ve filled her pussy enough.
I never considered how much I wanted kids, not until I met Mallory. The love we share needs to be shared with others.
“Thanks for the advice, Dad.” I give him a grateful smile. “Let’s get the bags and go. It’s early. Are you guys hungry?”