Ordered By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance (4 page)

O
n her back
, with her legs spread wide, she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen—and I saw plenty, back in my college days down in Anchorage. But she’s different than any woman I’ve ever had naked and moaning from my touch, begging for more of my cock.

Delta is soft skin and laugh lines and long hair and longer legs. She’s open, speaks her mind—and damn, those tits could make me bust a load just by looking at their fullness, their hard nipples. They are real, soft and supple, and I want to press my cock between them and have her titty-fuck me until I come all over her.

My fingers move in and out, and her pussy drips. I know she likes it, because her hands grab hold of the blanket she’s lying on, her ass lifting from the bed, as I press a third finger in her tight, warm pussy.

“Oh, Boone, I need you in me. I need you in me so bad.” I like the sound of her begging for me only minutes after meeting me. Good. This is the sort of woman I’ve always wanted.

My cock is stiff. It’s ready, and now her pussy is, too.

“I’m not using a condom,” I tell her. We were both tested during the application process, and being on the pill was a prerequisite for my bride.

“Good,” she moans. “I don’t want your cock covered with a condom. I want to feel all of you inside me.”

I begin to press myself in her, not able to resist the space between her legs any longer.

“I think it’s too big, Boone,” she whispers as I start to fill her juicy opening.

“I’m pretty damn sure I can fit in my wife.” I smirk, watching as her hands run over her tits, playing with her hard nipples as I fill her with my massive cock. “I’ll go nice and slow, okay?”

She nods, her eyes closing as I begin to fill her. “Mhhhmmm,” she murmurs, lost in the sex-trance she and I have created as I begin to take her pussy as mine.

I ease into her, and her pussy widens, as if it has done this before. I know she’s not a virgin. I told Monique I didn’t want one; I have no interest in teaching a wife the mechanics. I wanted a woman who knew what it meant to fuck, hard and fast and often.

“You like that?” I ask, my cock deep inside her; her pussy is so warm that I can’t resist, reaching for her soft ass and pulling her closer. I want her skin pressed against me, and I don’t want to let go.

“I love it. Holy fuck, Boone.” She wraps her arms around my neck, her face close to mine. I thrust deep into her, rocking her world as she arches, groaning and desperate. “I’m so close, baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Don’t stop now.”

We rock against one another; my cock is full of my seed and my life, and when it pours into her, the walls of her pussy tighten and she clenches her legs around me.

“Oh, my God,” she moans loudly. “I’m coming. I’m coming so hard.” She can’t control herself, and her words tell the entire lodge what kind of husband I am: one who knows his way around a motherfucking pussy.

When we finish, I fall beside her in bed.

Our heads turn, and we face one another as she catches her breath. I love how spun-up I got this woman who seems so sure of herself.

“That was literally the best sex of my life,” she says, laughing softly. “I hoped it would be good. But this, this was beyond good, Boone. You’re like a Greek god or something.”

“I’m no Greek god, Delta. I’m an Alaskan mountain man.

“I like your beard,” she says, running her hands over it. “And I like your shoulders.” She touches my skin with her soft, long hands. “And your abs. Fuck me now, you must work out all the time.”

I shake my head, propping my head up with my hand. “Fuck gyms. I work the land. I hunt and fish.”

“I see.” She licks her lips, with a glint in her eyes. “So you like to get dirty in the wild, untamed woods.”

“I do.” The corner of my mouth pulls into a smile. “What are you getting at, woman?”

She laughs, shrugging. “It’s sexy as hell, Boone. This whole wild man thing.”

“You’re sexy as hell too,” I admit.

“What, little ol’ me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” I tell her, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her closer to me. “You’re sexy as fuck. Showing up here in your tight-ass jeans, your high heels and blonde hair. Your tits so perfect, and your ass so round. Sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe Monique knew what she was doing,” Delta says.

“Looks like it.”

Our noses nearly touch, and what was fast and dirty sex is turning into something more intimate.

“You ready to get married tomorrow?” I ask her. Her lips are so full and pouty, and I’m ready to devour them.

She smiles. “To you, yes.”

“Not Dirk?” I tease.

“Not even.” She laughs. “I would have run away. Honest.”

“So is this marriage just about the sex for you?” I ask, squeezing her ass. My cock is growing hard again as her legs wrap around me. Her tits are pressed against my skin, and we’re nearly consuming one another all over again. I want her so fucking bad.

“Is a just-sex marriage enough?” she asks softly.

“If the sex is this good, I think it might be.”

“Me too,” she admits. “Me too, Boone.”

I pull her on top of me; she straddles my waist, my hard cock right next to her pussy.

“Then we should practice again,” I tell her. “I mean, if our relationship is based on sex, it should be improving with each round.”

“I have no doubt it will,” she tells me, as she strokes my cock. She raises her ass and slowly sits on my rod, her pussy filling nice and slow with my thickness. Her eyes close and her head falls back; her full tits make me hornier than hell.

She swivels her hips over me, good and steady, as her pussy starts pouring its release all over me, over our thighs, getting our skin nice and slick with her juice.

We come together, our bodies crashing into orgasm, and we laugh, content, knowing we got fucking lucky to have met the person of our dreams just by taking a chance on an ad on the internet.

I slap her ass playfully, and she yelps, her eyes meeting mine. It’s as if we both know that sex like this could not only make a marriage work, it could fucking create world peace.

A
fter our insta
-lust sex-fest, Boone shows me my bathroom, and the dresser and closet that have been set aside for me.

The room is gorgeous. It has an old-lodge vibe, but it’s not at all rustic. There are a lot of Pendleton wool blankets and a lot of native art on the walls. The floor is covered with thick carpets. It’s beautiful yet has a warm, cabin feel. There’s even a fireplace in the corner of the large room, with two large armchairs positioned in front of it.

Most everything about it is perfect, except for the numerous stuffed animals on every shelf, every dresser, on the bedside table. Which is weird. Why do people collect toys?

While we were screwing, I was too consumed with Boone’s sexy-ass body to notice the beady toy eyes glaring at me, but as I roll my suitcase into the closet, I’m startled by the volume of stuffed creatures.

Determined not to let anything sour my stellar mood, I turn on the water in my large, private bathroom—Boone’s is the next door over in this massive suite—and step into a steaming shower. The entire time I wash and dry my hair, I beam like a punch-drunk fool.

I have never been in lust so freaking hard.

I pull on a slip, and then a sheer summer dress with bell sleeves and little gold threads woven throughout the material. I plait my hair in a fishtail braid, with loose tendrils framing my face. I brush bronzer over my cheeks and swipe mascara over my eyelashes. Understated, but pretty. I hope. I want to make a good impression on whoever else lives here ... or works here.

Slipping on faux-leather sandals, I step from the bathroom and see Boone in a pair a dark blue jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. My eyes are pulled to his forearms. Strength seems to exude from his every pore.

“Am I overdressed? For dinner?”

“You look gorgeous,” he says, as his eyes rake over me.

“Thanks,” I tell him, my eyes locked on his. For a second, time seems to stop, as once again we are pulled into this gravitational force that makes us forget where we are and who we are. All I see is his body pressed against mine.

He turns toward the heavy drapes behind us and begins pulling them open.

I walk toward him, to take in the view. “Holy shit,” I say, as the property comes into my line of sight. “Boone, this is remarkable.”

“Right?” He crosses his arms, surveying the land.

A majestic, clear blue lake glitters, and there is a large dock with several fishing boats moored. Along the shore, there’s a rack of kayaks and a row of canoes. Adirondack chairs are scattered across the grassy bank. Around the lake a well-marked trail winds through the trees, and on the horizon is a range of snow-capped mountains that glisten as the sun hits them.

“This is insane. You live here?”

“I own this place.”

“Wow.” I look at him. He isn’t one of those asshole guys who is proving the size of his cock by how large his house is, or how expensive his car is. Boone has nothing to prove. I’ve seen his cock. And, besides that, he comes off as humble and reserved, not all prideful or showy. “So you run it and do the outdoor stuff on the side?”

Not looking at me, he keeps his eyes on the lake. “I’m the fishing and hunting guide. But running the lodge isn’t my thing. I’m not the right person to be the face of the family business.”

“Oh. So is Mason the one who runs the day-to-day business?”

Boone snorts sharply. “Mason doesn’t do a damn thing besides try to sleep with anything that breathes. My mom used to run the place, her and my dad together. They passed away this past winter. Bad accident in the snow. Car overturned. Mason was driving the car that night and he’s the only one who survived.”

“I’m sorry; that must be so hard for him,” I tell him. “My best friend Everly’s parents died in a similar way, and it wrecked her world. She wasn’t the driver, though.”

He doesn’t acknowledge the sentiment, just gives a short shrug. “Mason doesn’t deal with his grief very well. And I get it, but fuck, he’s really putting me through the wringer in the meantime. Mom and Dad ran this lodge for thirty years. They made something special out here. We closed it down in February and are just getting ready to reopen in a few days. And Mason was telling the truth earlier: he’s here to help me get it running. He’s way more skilled than me when it comes to customer service, but he refuses to take responsibility. Says he ruins everything.”

I nod, trying to follow along. Clearly this business is a profitable one, serving a niche of vacationers. And they’re doing a top notch job, as far as I can tell. Still, am I here for customer service?

“So,” Boone continues, “the families that come here come expecting something—and that’s why I ordered you.”

“Me?” I shake my head confused.

“I never saw your photo, but I told Monique what I wanted in a wife, and it seems like she delivered.”

“I’m trying to understand. So I’m going to be working here?”

“Damn straight. People come here expecting a pleasant woman, the wife of the owner, running this place. But I must say—I wasn’t expecting someone so hot, to be honest.”

“Are you saying I’m too pretty to be your wife?”

“No, it’s just I expected someone more … I don’t know. Wholesome.”

My eyebrows raise in annoyance. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s true,” he says, smirking. “Fuck, you have amazing tits and long, perfect legs, but I didn’t expect you’d also be as sweet as peach pie.”

“I’m more lemon meringue—a little tart,” I tell him, licking my lips to suppress my smile. Boone is fucking hot as hell, the way his eyes shine when he teases.

“Touché.” Boone runs his hand over his beard. “Anyways, that’s why the entire business model works. Most hunting lodges in Alaska cater to men, and men alone. My mom thought some women wouldn’t take kindly to their husbands traipsing around the wilderness without being close by. She was right. This lodge is booked straight for the entire summer season.”

I purse my lips. “It sounds like you want an employee, not a bride?” I shake my head. “Boone, why didn’t you just put out a help wanted ad?”

“Fuck, no, that won’t work. I needed a woman, a wife. Just like my folks. I need someone here who can commit to the values of this business. Which is why when Monique approached me, I agreed. A wife solves my problems.”

I scowl. “You wanted to marry your mother?”

“Hell, no,” Boone says, turning to face me now. “I told Monique my own specifications. I wanted a woman who was hot as fuck and knew her way around a bedroom. I wanted a woman with real life experience, too, because not just anyone can manage a lodge. I didn’t want some ditsy girl who would feel over her head. I’m assuming you fit that bill?”

I twist my lips, thinking about how Everly would fare with this proposition. She would never be able to hack it. Besides her lack of experience in the bedroom, she’s never ventured far from Oregon. And our other friend, Amelia? She dated Derrick for four years and is in total rebound mode. I may not always make the best choices, but Amelia is a whole other level of impulsive at the moment.

If Monique had us to choose from, I can see how I’d be the logical choice for what Boone was looking for. But that doesn’t mean I can commit to this life. I was willing to come here, knowing I could always walk way.

Getting to know Boone makes that doubly difficult. Not to mention I’ve already fucked him. I already know what sort of insta-chemistry he and I share.

“So you plan on living here forever?” I ask, wanting to get a feel for Boone, his life goals, or plan, or something. I should probably get to know him on a deeper level than just the length of his cock.

Boone nods, looking out the window at the massive property.

“Damn straight. I love it here. Went to college for business, but came back right after. Spent a few years helping Mom and Dad. Now that it’s mine, I want a life here.”

“Like, a wife and kids kinda thing?” I purse my lips. I don’t think I could handle something so regular for the long term.

“You say that like it’s bad. Having a place to call home isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

When I shrug, he presses on.

“What? What do you want, Delta? What’s so much more worthy?”

“I don’t know … I mean, I like meeting new people, having different experiences. And I have a degree in hospitality. Hotel services, basically.”

“But? There’s always a
but
.”

“But I think I’d always rather be the guest. The one traveling somewhere new and exotic.”

“I get that. But it’s kinda perfect.”

“What’s perfect?” I ask, seeing a glint in his eye.

“That you’re trained to run a hotel. It’s perfect, right?” Boone gives me a wide smile, one I might not deserve. “But, besides being perfect for the job, you’re fucking perfect to look at, too,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. My heart starts pounding as his hands travel over my ass. “And you certainly know how to fuck. Sounds like Monique knew what she was doing.”

I let him slide his hand lower, to my thighs, as he raises the hem of my dress. He knows how to lure me into his plan; he knows how to erase my hesitation with the simple caress of his hand across my skin. He’s good.

But he also needs to know where I’m coming from. “Look, Boone,” I tell him, wanting to be transparent. “I knew I was coming here to be your wife ... but I didn’t realize I would just be handed this amount of responsibility.”

He looks at me with those bright green eyes, and pulls me closer. He smells like sunshine and soap and barrel-aged whisky. He smells like a man.

My man.

I’m hella turned on by him, by his cock and his hands and the way he tells me what to do ... but what if that changes? Sure, I just told him a marriage could possibly be built on amazing sex, but what if that’s
not
enough?

What if I want to end things with Boone in a few months, after this thing with him runs its course? I would have so much guilt around messing with his family business.

“Listen, Delta, you can do this job the same way you handled my cock.” He smiles. The hand under my dress smacks my ass, then moves toward the front of my panties; he slides his warm fingers low enough for my pussy to throb.

“How’s that?” I ask, my breath catching as he circles his thumb against my clit expertly.

“Woman, you grabbed it with both hands and went all in.”