Ordered By The Mountain Man(11)
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.
Chapter Six
Delta
After 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.