Ordered By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance Read Online Free Page B

mouth brushing against my ear. “We’re going upstairs. I’m not eating dinner or showing you around my place until I can see your body stripped down, bare. Until I can spread your legs and press myself into you.”
    “Okay,” I murmur, breathless. I swear his low, gravelly voice could get me to orgasm. My core tightens, as his growing cock is hard against my belly.
    He grabs my hand, and his strong grip leads me up the porch, through a massive set of double doors. I want to see my new home, but I can’t even stop to look around the lodge because my eyes are glued to his tight, perfect ass. My eyes cannot, no matter how hard I try, leave his backside.
    Before I know it, he’s flung open a door, thrown me over his shoulder, and carried me across the threshold.
    “I was not expecting this,” I tell him, as he sets me down. I look him over and I just want my hands everywhere, on every square inch of him.
    “What did you expect?” He steps closer once again, and I love how he is so fucking in control—he doesn’t ask if it’s okay, doesn’t hesitate. He’s no boy making his first move. Boone is a man, and I can tell by the way he lifts the hem of my blouse that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
    And damn, he’s doing it well.
    “I expected that some mountain man who ordered a bride might not know his way around a woman.”
    He lifts my top over my head, and his hands unbutton my jeans, shoving them past my hips.
    “I ordered a bride because I don’t have time to fuck around with women who don’t want to be wives.”
    “Oh,” I say, biting my lip as I step out of my shoes and jeans. Now, standing before Boone in a tiny thong and lacy white bra, I feel a twinge of guilt. He wants a wife. Not a fuck-buddy.
    Well. We can discuss that later.
    Right now I just want him out of those clothes.
    “So you must be really busy if you don’t have time to date,” I say, as I watch him tug off his shirt, drop his jeans. He stands in a pair of boxer briefs, his cock standing at attention, practically begging to be set free.
    Oh, I am certainly able to help with that.
    “Yeah, I’m busy, Delta—but don’t worry. I have plenty of time to play.”
    “Good,” I tell him, wiping my hand across my lip, scared I may be drooling as I take in his completely ripped chest. His biceps are fierce, and his evergreen tattoo covers his right arm. I want to run my hands all over his solid body.
    And no, I’m not looking at his eyes, or looking at his heart. Nope. Not even sorta. I’m only looking at his chiseled skin, because I am a self-absorbed woman who is horny as hell.
    Apparently Boone is equally interested in getting to the good stuff, because he deftly unhooks the back of my bra, letting it fall aside. His hands take hold of my tits; his thumbs run over my hardening nipples.
    Oh, I am so wet for this man. I literally squeeze my thighs together, because I need some sort of pre-release. I’m ready for him to take me—yet he’s never even kissed me.
    There are no metaphors happening here. We’re just ready to devour one another.
    My fingers hook on his waistband, and I edge them lower, my breath catching at the narrowing V pointing straight to his package.
    I pull down his briefs and lower to my knees. Kneeling, I pull off his briefs completely, letting them fall to the floor. His cock is free. And fuck me now, it’s gloriously right in my face.
    And it’s hard as hell, thicker than I’ve seen, and long enough to fuck me sideways and backwards and … I don’t even know what that means except Yes. Please. Now .
    “You like what you see, Delta?” he asks in a slow drawl. It’s not a southern accent by any means; it’s an accent that says I want you to suck me off right this minute .
    “You have the sexiest cock I’ve ever seen.” It isn’t a lie or an exaggeration; it’s nothing but the unadulterated truth. He’s hard and huge, and I want to lick him until he comes all over me.
    “You seen a lot?” he