Ordered By The Mountain Man(19)

With clear words I ask, “Where exactly are you going, Delta?” I move her hand up and down my shaft through my jeans. Her fingers squeeze my cock longingly. “Tell me where you think you’re going and what you think you’re going to do?”

“Where do you want me to go, Boone?” Her eyes are locked on my package, just where I like them.

“I want you to go to the boat that’s tied up right there.”

“Yeah? And what are we going to do there?”

“I’m gonna teach you how to listen.”

Her chest heaves with desire. I see her nipples harden in that tiny Lycra top, longing to be touched. I can imagine her pussy lips begging to be spread.

Oh, I’ll spread them all right.

I spank her ass, turning her to the boat on the side of dock. I climb on first, then she follows. It’s a small motorboat, one we use to run up and down the lake.

I turn the key and start the engine; we’re purring away in moments. I’m going to take her to the middle of the lake before I fuck her. She was loud last night with tame sex. This time things are going to get dirty, and she’s gonna crank up the volume when she learns who’s in charge of these mountains.





Chapter Ten





Delta





Boone drives the boat, and he’s in complete control as he steers. It’s pretty hot, him speeding away from the lodge like this. Granted, I’m pissed at him. Logically, I want to smack him across the face for thinking he can tell me what to do, what sort of woman I can be ... but all my free will disappears the moment he starts talking dirty, starts ordering me around.

And then the only thing I want to slap is his fine ass.

Moving behind him, I run my hands over his shoulders, my fingers massaging his muscles as I try to focus on something besides reaching a hand down my own pants and getting started ... because, holy hell, he gets me horny.

“That feels amazing,” he groans as I dig into his rigid muscles.

“Been a long time since you’ve had a body massage?” I ask.

“Never had one in my life,” he admits, turning his head over his shoulder as he says it.

“I’ll give you one later, back in our room. I have massage oils.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, “I figured you were hightailing it out of here.”

“You want me to leave?” I ask, fishing for more. Which, okay, is maybe a passive-aggressive move, but hello? What exactly am I supposed to do at this point besides try ... anything.

“I never said that.”

I keep rubbing his shoulders, kneading them as best as I can. Even if he is a complete ass, he’s also an amazing lover, and I want to reciprocate in the ways I’m able.

“So when is this pastor coming out to marry us?” I ask, wanting to get a feel for my time here.

I’m not even a little sure as to what I’m going to do. Maybe I should just be straight-up with Boone about my reservations. Maybe I should say, You know what, I came out here for an adventure, not for the husband part.

The last thing I want to do is basically destroy everything his family has built by being a flighty fool of a mail order bride. Boone may have a carnivorous caveman mentality, but he’s also a business owner, and the success of this lodge matters to a lot of people who work here.

“Pastor Vince will be here this afternoon, around four.” Boone has careened the boat through the water, and we’re now in the center of the lake.

“And tomorrow the lodge opens? Guests will be arriving?” This part of living here entices me—the idea of putting my degree to work, having a job I’m fairly sure I would be great at. Sure, I guess working at a resort in, say, the South of France sounds more exciting than the middle of nowhere Alaska.

But maybe beggers can’t be choosers.

Still, I may have a degree in hospitality, but that doesn’t mean I’ve ever actually run a hotel. It’s more than a little intimidating.

“Yeah,” Boone says, “but most everything is squared away. Mostly you’ll need to check people in and make sure they have what they need.”

“Right.” I shake my head, the pressure in my fingertips increasing as I work out my own tension through his body. “Even though I have about zero idea of how to help them get what they need.”

“Day one, I’ll be right up front to help you,” he says, unconcerned. “My first tour won’t be until the next day. But, honestly, the best way to learn something is by throwing yourself in the deep end.”

I purse my lips, disagreeing with his logic. “Says a person who knows how to swim.”

He grabs my hand from his shoulder, and pulls me around, where I land in his lap.