Ordered By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance (7 page)

W
hen she tells
me to show her what we could be, I don’t hesitate. I pull her off my lap, and tug off those spandex pants she is wearing. She doesn’t have any panties on and I’m glad. All I want is her pussy in my face. All I want is my cock in her mouth.

All I want is her.

“Boone,” she moans, stark naked on the middle of my lake, standing in my boat, looking down at me with greedy eyes.

“Yes, Delta?”

“Tell me what you want.” She runs her hands over her tits, and her skin is sun-kissed and glowing, her long hair blowing in the soft morning wind. Her waist narrows above her hips, hips that I want to get my hands on.

“I want you on your knees.”

This girl seems to like it when I take control, which is cute as hell. I’d think a vegan yogi would have plenty of self-righteous opinions of her own, but Delta is a surprise. For someone as confident and self-aware she is, she sure likes being ordered around.

She kneels before me. I sit in the captain chair, and she reaches for my belt buckle. She tears the belt off, and it skitters across the deck. She unzips my blue jeans, and when her soft hands reach for my hard cock, I watch her lick her lips as if knowing that she’s in for a motherfucking treat.

I run my hands through her blonde hair, and she slides down my boxers, taking hold of my shaft. Lowering her head, she wraps her pink lips around my hardness; when her mouth begins to envelop my cock, I lean back in the chair, legs apart, getting the fucking best head of my life.

Her mouth is nice and tight around me, and she sucks up and down the length of my shaft, taking her sweet time—but she’s pumping my base, which is causing my cock to build in pressure.

“Oh, Delta, that’s so fucking good.”

She purrs, palming my tights balls, her mouth wrapped around me like a goddamn gift. She looks up at me, her eyes dripping with desire—and seeing her like that, my cock in her mouth, reaching to her throat, her tits moving in time with her sucking, it makes me fucking lose my load.

“Fuck me, woman,” I groan, as my come fills her mouth. She keeps pumping my shaft, pulling me out of her mouth, and my come covers her gorgeous tits as she sprays the ropes of come across herself.

“Oh, yeah,” she moans. “Boone, oh yeah.” Her other hand reaches between her legs to her pussy. I watch as she dips a finger into her folds, and I shake my head.

“No, you don’t, baby. I’m the one who’s getting you off today. I’m the one getting you off forever,” I growl. Standing, I pull her up and grab her perfect little ass. I lift her easily, and she wraps her long legs around my waist. I carry her to the door leading to the cabin, and kick it open, stepping down a few stairs to the queen-sized bed. There’s a small kitchenette and table off to the side, but I’m not cooking anything right now. Right now, I’m only eating. Delta’s pussy is the solitary thing on my mind.

I lie down on the bed, and tell her to straddle me from behind. I want her round ass in my face; I want her dripping pussy over my mouth. I’m gonna lick her swollen pussy until she forgets her reservations about marrying me, and then I’m gonna fill that wet pussy with my cock.

This is my motherfucking wedding day, and I’m marking this woman as mine. She may say she has doubts, but she won’t once I remind her what being married to me is gonna be like.

“Boone, I want you so bad.” Her hands caress my still-hard cock, and I love that her hands naturally gravitate there. She strokes me eagerly, but I know she’ll forget what to do with her hands once my mouth begins to devour her.

My hands hold her hips as she plants her fine ass over my face. She must know she’s a fucking goddess, because she doesn’t seem at all insecure or shy about the position she’s in. I love that about her—how fucking confident she is when I tell her what to do. She trusts that I know how to take charge.

Pressing my mouth tight against her gap, I take control of her pussy. I lick her luscious folds, tasting her sweet juice as I run my tongue up and down her length. My beard rubs against her and I feel her body tense for a moment. Then I twirl my tongue over her throbbing clit, and whatever tension she carried is fucking lost. She falls onto me, her tits pressed against my cock, and I love her warm body covering mine.

I smack her ass as I suck her off, and then, when her sweetness is flowing over my mouth, I press two fingers into her tight little opening. She moans, and then starts whimpering more loudly as I dip in and out of her soaked pussy. I’m glad I went with my fucking gut and took her to the middle of the lake. Her whimperings aren’t the silent type—she’s letting me know, loudly, how much she loves this finger-fuck.

I add a third finger, and she can’t bear it any longer. Her pussy is pulsing around my hand, and I smile at the sight of her round ass in my face. Her thighs are slick with release, her girlish moans flying around the boat—I swear I’ve died and gone to mail order bride heaven.

My cock twitches, and damn, I want to be inside her. Rolling her off me, I mount her from above, ready to fill her with my rod.

“Fuck me, Boone,” she begs, her arms wrapping around my neck, her legs around my waist. As if she instinctively knows that she needs to be as close to me as possible. Damn right, she does. “Make me come,” she moans. “I wanna come with you.”

I press myself in her, watching her slight wince as my hard cock fills her tender pussy. It’s clear she knows how to fuck, but it’s also pretty damn obvious she’s never been properly filled until she met me.

“Oh,” she screams, digging her fingers into my back. “Oh, my fucking God, yes, yes.”

I smile, thrusting into her warmth. Her pussy is shocked into submission, and I rock into her over and over again. She loves it, and so do I, this complete acceptance of whatever we’ve held back from one another. We fuck, and we forget our differences. We fuck and forge into forever.

Her gorgeous tits bounce as I claim her as mine. She closes her eyes, writhing beneath me as my throbbing cock fills her with my release. She cries out as she comes, panting as the orgasm washes over her. It’s fucking hot as hell to watch. This woman, overcome with me. This woman, realizing she is motherfucking mine.

There’s no way in hell she can get fucked like that and want to return to a life apart from me.

There’s no way in hell I’d even let her.

B
oone drives us
, momentarily satiated from the fuck of our lives, back to the dock. Stress begins to grow in the pit of my stomach. The lodge is where our problems lie, where our differences will come to a head.

I know fucking won’t solve everything. Boone said the pastor was coming today. That means I need to make a decision, soon. Either I go all-in and marry this man, and later walk away like a total beotch, or I leave now.

Because the thing is—I mean, the main thing is—that yes, Boone likes to fuck me. And I like to fuck him. Like, a lot. And yes, our bodies mesh in this basically ultrasonic, cosmic way.

But watching him steer this boat with a completely content look on his rugged face, I feel like he isn’t considering the thousand ways we may not be compatible. And besides, I don’t even know if I want to be compatible. Does that make me wishy-washy and totally annoying? Quite possibly, but come on! I’m twenty-two, and a recent graduate, and I have my entire freaking life to live.

“Come on,” he says, offering his hand as we get off the boat. When we left here this morning it was all early morning dew and serenity, but now the lodge is alive with people buzzing about, preparing for opening day, which is only twenty-four hours away. “I’m guessing you’ll want to get cleaned up?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I smirk, “yoga gets me all sweaty.”

Boone raises his eyes. “That’s what has your thighs sticky and your pussy worn?”

I feel heat rise to my cheeks—which never happens—and I pull my hand away, smacking him. “Someone could hear.”

He laughs. “Oh, I’m sure they heard plenty even with us in the middle of the lake.”

“Am I really that loud?”

“Louder. Now, let’s go get changed so we can get breakfast. I worked up a fucking appetite.”

I follow him in the lodge, my eyes lowered as we pass some smirking employees. I try to breathe. These feelings fluttering in my belly—a mix of stress, desire, and curiosity—make it really difficult to know whether this could blossom into something more.

Or if I even want it to.

* * *

L
ater
, Boone and I are sitting down to eat—me with toast, an orange, and fried potatoes, and Boone scarfing down a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage links. I appreciate that Boone hasn’t said one underhanded comment about my food choices. And it may seem like this little thing, but a lot of meat-eater guys get very threatened by people choosing to abstain from their preferences.

His brother walks into the dining hall, and I do a double take. It’s insane how identical they are. Mason’s drinking a Bud Light. At ten in the morning. And he has a female staffer fawning over him as he swaggers toward us.

“Hey, asshat,” he calls, jutting his chin at Boone. Mason kisses the girl’s cheek, sending her away, then grabs a chair next to me. He smiles broadly, eyes raised. “So, darling, you holding up okay? Because, you know, Boone here doesn’t date many women, and maybe he forgot how to take care of one.”

Boone raises an eyebrow. “What’s your fucking angle, Mason?” It’s clear from his tone they’ve had similar conversations in the past.

“My angle? Damn, bro, you’re a little uptight. Just wanted to check in on my new sister-in-law.” Mason sets a hand on my shoulder, squeezing, and I know it’s all to get a rise out of his brother.

I watch the exchange, unsure how to react. I can see the tension dripping from Boone’s face and, honestly, I know this isn’t my fight to win. This is something between the two of them. Something I don’t want any part in.

Mason is such a stereotypical douchecanoe, the way he’s clearly trying to rile Boone up. And it’s working. Guys like him aren’t not my type at all. If I was going to settle down with a man, it wouldn’t be Mason; I would want a man who didn’t need to dig at other men to feel good.

Boone, on the other hand, is the sort of man I’d choose. Sure, he’s rough around the edges, but he’s a man who knows himself.

But however
not
attracted I am by Mason’s personality, the corners of my mouth turn up as he rubs my shoulders, staring down his twin brother the entire time. I can’t help it, it’s kinda funny to watch a guy who looks identical to Boone act so different.

Boone doesn’t find it quite as humorous. Not even looking at Mason, he spreads jam on a piece of toast and speaks quietly, yet clearly. “Get out of here if you’re gonna be such a fuckhead.”

Mason throws his hands in the air in mock defeat. “Wow, bro. Lowbrow. I got it; you don’t want me messing with your goods.” He looks over at me, grinning a cocky, self-assured grin, reading me all wrong. I don’t think the way he’s acting is cute at all.

Boone doesn’t think it’s cute either. “I mean it, Mason. I spent yesterday cleaning up your mess, and you know I have your back—but shit, I’m not letting you mess with Delta.”

The dining room is empty except for us, and it’s awkward as hell sitting here with these two brothers who clearly have a shit-ton of history that I know nothing about. But I like the way Boone doesn’t let Mason get away with anything. It’s sexy the way he tells Mason exactly how it’s gonna be.

“You’re not gonna let me
mess with her
? How about what she wants? Maybe she wants a piece of me.” Mason stands, and Boone does too.

Fuck, this just got real.

“She won’t have any man but me,” Boone commands. “Understood? She’s my property. And you can fucking step away, Mason.”

“Dude, I don’t actually want your girl,” Mason says, shrugging. “I’m just joshin’ with you. Fuck, you’re always so damn intense.”

I pull in my bottom lip, biting back my words. This whole thing is pissing me off—like, hello, I’m right here.

And I may like Boone ordering me around in the bedroom—there, his orders feel sexy and playful—but hell no, I’m not anyone’s freaking property. This is not 1840 in the wild, Wild West. This is my life. And if he wants to be an ass about me doing yoga outside in the morning on the dock, fine. That’s his issue … but this just became my issue.

“You know what,” I say, standing. “That isn’t cool, Boone, to talk about me that way.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, you two need to grow the fuck up.”

I storm out of the dining hall, feeling totally worked up. It’s bullshit, and I need to get my head on straight.

I need to make some major decisions before Pastor Vince arrives.

And, unfortunately, Boone’s ego-riddled comments may have put the last nail in the coffin.