Our mouths collide again, and I’m moaning as his scruffy beard rubs against my face. It turns me on—his rough ways, his calloused hands touching my skin greedily, as if he knows he can take any piece of me he wants. He can.
He pulls down his boxers and his thick cock is pressed between our bodies. I wrap my arms around his neck, ready to sink into him, not wanting my lips to pull away, because the way our tongues press against one another, my entire skin tingles as if we’re in a dreamy trance. I suppose we really are.
I don’t want to wake up.
He fills me, and I raise my body so I can ride him properly. I straddle his body and my hands run across his sweaty chest; his hands hold my waist, guiding my hips to grind him in a steady rhythm. My core is full and my pussy is on fire as his cock stretches me wide. There are no other men like Boone, with cocks this huge. As my wetness pours from me, our thighs become slick; he slaps my ass again, turned on by the way my body responds.
When we come, I fall across his chest, catching my breath as I lay on top of him.
He holds me as we fall back asleep, wordlessly.
Earlier I wondered why I was staying … but maybe I’m still here because my body knows what it needs more than my heart does.
Chapter Nine
Boone
The bed we shared last night is empty. It’s early morning, and Delta has apparently already left the room. I dress quickly, wanting to find her. Last night, I didn’t get a chance to really explain some of the rules around here—rules that she needs to follow for her own protection. There are wild animals in the backwoods, and the last thing I want is for some bear to attack my woman before I’ve made her my wife.
I head downstairs, and the lobby is still quiet. It’s only a little after six A.M., and while this place will be hopping tomorrow at this hour, the employees are taking advantage of their last day of freedom.
Not seeing Delta, I head out to the front porch. No one’s out here in the parking lot, so I head back inside, winding through the dining hall to fill a mug with black coffee.
Trey, holding a basket of blueberry muffins, stops me.
“Hey, Boone, you have a sec?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I wondered if maybe we should add a vegan option to the menu?”
“What?” I scoff. “No way.”
“Well, Delta’s a vegan and will be living here full-time—”
“Yeah, but she’s also choosing to move to the Alaskan frontier. She can figure out how to eat moose and salmon, or pick her own vegetables.”
Trey shifts uncomfortably.
“What?” I ask, not wanting to talk about fucking menu plans. That’s what I hired him for.
“She’s gonna be your wife is all—”
“Look, the last thing this lodge needs is some fancy bullshit food on the menu. Guests come here expecting a particular experience. Quinoa and Swiss chard aren’t a part of that.”
“Okay,” Trey says, shrugging, before heading to the breakfast buffet with the muffins. Over his shoulder he says, “Just thought I’d ask.”
I step out back onto the massive deck facing the lake. The sun’s been up since three A.M. The summers here in Alaska are bright enough to blind a man. Though I’ve heard of some folks lining their cabin windows with foil to keep the sun out, I’m lucky to have heavy blackout curtains throughout the lodge.
Outside, the lawn is green and well-manicured. Dirk does a good job, keeping this part of the property appealing to the women who show up here, wanting to sit in the shade reading on their Kindles as their husbands head to the lake all day to catch trout on a fishing tour.
But Delta isn’t on the deck. I scan the surrounding property as I take a sip of my steaming coffee, and then I see her. Her body is positioned on the edge of the dock, her legs stretched far apart, her hands raised to the sky, and her back arched. I watch as she moves in a graceful sequence, folding herself in two and then shifting into a headstand, her feet unfurling as her toes reach the sky.
My cock twitches, and damn, I like seeing how fucking bendy this woman is—my woman is.
Turning back to the dining room, I grab a second cup of coffee for her, then make my way off the back deck and head to where she is.
She’s lowered herself from the headstand, and now she’s cross-legged, back straight, eyes closed. I may live in the sticks, but I know that what she’s doing is yoga. As I get closer, she opens her eyes; they’re bright, sparkling in the sun. Her skin glistens with sweat from her workout, and damn, I have half a mind to throw her over my shoulder and get her in the shower. I’d like more of what she and I did last night.
“Morning.” I greet her, handing her the hot coffee.