Claimed By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance

by Frankie Love

“You don’t seem tongue-tied right now.”

  “Well.” She shrugs shyly. “Amelia gave me a pep talk.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I smile, reaching for her hand, loving this vulnerable side to Everly. Ever since the airport, she seems to be hiding behind her glasses, her lack of words, and her insecurity.

  But damn, she has nothing to be insecure about. She’s adorable in those big tortoiseshell frames, and her soft brown hair is practically begging for me to rake my fingers through it.

  “So what was this pep talk?”

  She suppresses a smile, taking another sip of wine. “Don’t laugh when I tell you.”

  “I wouldn’t laugh at you.”

  “She told me to get over my nerves about being here with you—a guy who is way more handsome than I was expecting—by taking off all my clothes and walking out of the bathroom. Catching you off guard.”

  I can’t help but crack up. Setting down my beer, I lean back in my chair. “Well, what the hell happened, woman? You look pretty well covered right now.”

  She shakes her head, groaning. “It’s stupid, my logic. I thought you were hungry, and that you wouldn’t want to wait to eat.”

  I run my hand over my jaw, my cock hard as hell imagining her stripping down and walking out here to surprise me.

  Standing, I pull her from her chair, brush the hair from her eyes, and cup her face in my hands.

  Then I kiss her. Hard. Her mouth parts and I press my tongue inside her. She moans as her lips sink into the kiss, and my body is alive, remembering what it feels like to hold a woman in my hands.

  We pull apart. She’s gasping for breath, her eyes heavy with desire. With heat. With want.

  “Girl,” I tell her, “I don’t need a fucking meal when I can have you instead.”

  Then I pull her in for another kiss.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Everly

  Um. So I don’t think we’re playing Twenty Questions anymore.

  His mouth is on mine again, his lips so soft. His hands cradle my face. His palms are so large I’m literally held in his hand.

  He kiss deepens, and my body responds by pressing against him. Clearly his body is responding, too. His cock is against my belly, and every inch of me tingles, is alive, as his tongue entwines with mine.

  He smells so good, like soil and cedar and fresh air. I inhale him, shaking as I do, scared I’ll lose my balance, because breathing him in is like an extra dose of oxygen: almost too much at once and it makes me dizzy.

  “You okay?” He pulls back, his clear eyes darker now, as if able to take on the color of the changing mood. We’ve gone from zero to fully charged.

  “I’m okay, just a little lightheaded.” I take off my glasses—I don’t need them all the time anyway—and run my hands over my eyes.

  “You tired?”

  “Not tired, just … whew, Silas. I mean—” I gesture between us, waving my hand. “This is, like, a lot to take in.”

  He tilts his head, his naked torso taunting me. His bulging pants begging me. His concerned eyes piercing me.

  “Was that your first kiss, Everly?”

  I see the hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth, but not a judge-y smile. A hopeful one? “Would that make you happy, Silas?” I ask. “To know you were your mail order bride’s first kiss?”

  “Hell, yeah, it would,” he says, taking the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head. I instinctively raise my arms and let him slip it off.

  My breasts are covered in a red lacy bra. Delta made me use the wedding night lingerie stipend from Monique to buy as many lacy panty and bra sets as possible, even though I wanted to use it to purchase books from my Amazon wishlist.

  But now I’m glad I listened to my more experienced friend. I feel beautiful standing before Silas, and even though my first inclination is to lower my hands and cover my stomach, I don’t.

  He kneels down, unbuttons my pants, and tugs them off until I’m in nothing but the red thong. There is no point in hiding my tummy now, when I’m completely exposed before him.

  With his face so close to my mound, I can’t help but purr slightly, wanting him to do things to me I’ve only dreamt about.

  “You were my first kiss,” I admit, licking my lips, looking in his eyes.

  “I’ll be your first everything,” he says in that deep, rough voice that makes me forget to breathe. “But not tonight. I’m waiting until tomorrow to take you.” He grabs my bare ass with his hand. “You’re going to be a virgin on your wedding night.”

  I look down at him, watching as he plants kisses on my thighs, his mouth so close to my pussy that the nonexistent fabric of the thong is soaked with my desire.

  “So tonight … we’ll just go to bed?” I ask, knowing I sound desperate, but at this moment I don’t care. Right now, I just want more.

  He looks up at me, smiling. “Oh, girl, we’re not going to sleep yet.”

  “But?”

  “I’m not going to pop your cherry, but I’m sure as hell going to flick your clit.”

  He stands and lifts me in his arms, places me on the bed. Then he hooks his thumbs over the waistband of my tiny thong and slides it over my thighs, over my feet, revealing my freshly bared pussy.

  Part of me wants to bury myself under the covers in embarrassment, but a bigger part, the part that is awakening to the idea of being with a man like Silas, wants to be exposed like this … wants Silas to take what he needs.

  “You are so beautiful, Everly,” he says, his voice so low I can barely hear him.

  His palm presses against my mound, and my pussy has never been touched like this before. Never been covered with a man’s strength, with a man’s power—and I know that Silas is that sort of man. His body is ripped from hard work, and he has the bearded face of a mountain man.

  My head rests against a pillow, and as Silas presses his mouth to my pussy I think I’m going to faint. The dizzy spell returns as his mouth plants tender kisses at my entrance.

  He gently presses my thighs down, and I inhale sharply at the vulnerable state I’m in. My pussy is before him, and nothing is between us. His face lowers to my opening, his tongue licking my slit up and down, and up and down. I feel myself dripping with pleasure.

  The tip of his tongue enters my pussy, and his hands open my folds expertly, as he begins sucking against my throbbing clit. I’ve touched myself, but never well, never able to really understand how amazing my body could feel if pleasured correctly.

  Silas knows what he’s doing. He sucks hard on my pussy, two fingers rubbing circles on my hood. I feel my thighs clench, trying to close, but his strength presses them back down, as if he knows that stopping now is a bad idea.

  And he’s right, because when he presses two fingers inside me, gently widening my pussy so he can come hither against my g-spot, I moan loudly, overwhelmed at the flicking of his fingers against me, so tight and so good.

  “Silas, oh my God, I think, I can’t … ohhh.” And then I melt in an orgasmic puddle, my core rocking as he gets me off, my pussy soaking his hand with my release as I’m washed in pleasure, intoxicated. As my body is drenched in heat.

  When I finally stop shaking—when my toes unfurl and I catch my breath—I run my fingers though his hair as he hovers above me. I can feel him watching as my eyes flutter.

  “Let’s not stop,” I tell him, suddenly able to imagine him inside me in a way I couldn’t have even a few hours ago.

  He shakes his head. “Not tonight, Everly. You came here a virgin, and I’m not going to take that away until you’re my wife.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Silas

  I take care of my raging hard-on in the shower after Everly falls asleep. It doesn’t take long to get off; all I need to think about is Everly’s little pussy and her perfect tits. Tits I really want to squeeze my cock between and come all over, but of course I didn’t tell her that.

  My desires can be kept quiet until later. When she’s my wife, I’ll show her how to fuck
me, and I’ll sure as hell have no problem licking her pussy nice and good, as often as she likes.

  I know I could have slept with her—she was willing and clearly wanting—but damn, I know the size of my cock. Just one look at her perfect little pussy, and I knew that was going to be tight fucking fit.

  I don’t think I could handle her crying in bed the same day I met her.

  It’s better this way. I’ll take her to the courthouse and make things official, and then bring her to my place, on my terms, and set her on top of my cock and teach her how to ride it nice and good.

  Oh, she was so wet, so fast, that I can’t wait to get her going again. This mail order service is no fucking joke if these are the types of women Monique offers her clients. A virgin with a perfect pussy and a double-D rack?

  We’re going to be at that motherfucking courthouse at the crack of dawn. I’m not letting this girl get away.

  The next morning, we shower and dress quietly. Everly isn’t chatty, and we hardly know one another well enough to make much small talk.

  Also, it’s clear she’s not a morning person by the way she slept through two alarm clocks, gulped two cups of coffee, and didn’t speak over her bacon and eggs.

  That’s going to have to change real fast when we get to my cabin. The days are long and there’s always work to be done.

  Back in my Land Cruiser, we head to the courthouse at nine a.m.

  “I have the marriage license,” I explain as I park the car. “We just need to meet with the judge,

  She closes the dashboard mirror, which she used to apply some pale pink lipstick. “Do I look okay?” she asks. “I should have worn contacts.”

  “You look great.” I notice her light pink summer dress and pale yellow cardigan.

  “You don’t have family who want to be here?” she asks, seeming nervous all of a sudden. Hell, maybe she’s been nervous all morning and I mistook it for being tired.

  “I don’t have family,” I answer coolly. “What about you? Don’t you have family who want to see you married?”

  “My family is all dead,” she says softly.

  “Oh, shit, Everly. I’m sorry.”

  “Why else would a girl be okay moving in with a stranger?” she asks, shaking her head. “Obviously, most girls wouldn’t do this.”

  “Clearly you’re not most girls.”

  I don’t really know what she wants from me. The whole mail order arrangement works when people don’t spend months deciding if they want to do this or not. It works when there’s no time to second-guess. It works when both people are willing to roll the dice and try.

  It will fail if we think in terms of most people.

  “I’m sure as fuck not most guys,” I continue. “I don’t want the bullshit of dating people. I told Monique what I wanted in a wife, and she sent you to me. The deal is pretty cut and dry. I pay off your student loans and promise to take care of you, you promise to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

  “Really romantic, right?” she says, a sad smirk playing on her mouth.

  “You want romance, Everly?” I snort. “I think you signed up for the wrong gig, then.”

  “You were romantic last night … soft.”

  “I’m still that guy, but shit, I’m not playing around here. If you want to be my wife, we’re walking in there right now, no second guesses, and we’re filing our marriage certificate.”

  “You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” she says tightly.

  “I’m not being a jerk. I just wonder why you’re bringing up this shit about family and whatever right before we go inside.”

  “I just don’t know anything about you. Gosh, Silas. I’m sorry you don’t have family, and it sucks that my family died, but don’t you see how this is still a tiny bit scary?”

  “If you’re so scared, then you know what, Everly?” I say, nearly losing my shit. “Then you need to get out of this car and take my hand and fucking trust me on this. I’ve never had a wife before, and I sure as hell never imagined having one as goddamn gorgeous as you.”

  Everly’s eyes go wide. She covers her mouth, and … fuck, is she seriously laughing right now?

  “What are smiling about?” I ask.

  “You got all cave man on me. All protective and sexy and … well, that was really romantic.”

  “Good,” I tell her, not giving in to a smile yet. I want her to know this isn’t a fucking joke—that she’s my woman and I’m not messing around with that. “Because I bought you a ring.”

  “Really?”

  “What the hell kind of husband do you think I am?”

  I reach over and get a black box from the glove compartment.

  I hand it to her, and she looks at it cautiously.

  “It’s a ring, honey. It’s not going to bite you.”

  “I know, Silas,” she says, shooting me an annoyed look. “But this is a moment I’ll always remember. It matters to me, even if you bought this not knowing my name.”

  Her eyes explode in glittering emeralds when she opens it: a gold band set with an eight-carat colorless solitaire.

  She slides it on her finger. A perfect fit.

  “It’s not practical, I know that. And you don’t have to wear it everyday or anything when we get home, but I get that this shit matters to women. And you’re my woman, so that matters to me.”

  I don’t say anything more, because hell, I’m a man, not a pussy-whipped fool.

  Still, I can’t help but notice the broad smile on her face, the fact that she wipes a tear from her eye. I can’t help but know I made her really fucking happy.

  She presses her soft, swollen lips against mine, her innocent pleasure revealed in her light moans. When she pulls away from the kiss, all I can think is how badly I want to fill her virginal pussy.

  Grinning, I can’t help but think that there are worse ways to spend the day of your wedding.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Everly

  The ceremony at the courthouse is fast and seamless.

  I knew from Monique that I would be signing a pre-nup, which I completely understand. Silas has a fortune, though I don’t know the specifics on how large.

  Before the ceremony we sign the paperwork, and that’s that. I could have read it over more closely, but the fact is, I brought nothing into this marriage except some student loan debt and two suitcases filled with books.

  Then we see the judge and make the marriage official. One moment I’m Miss Everly Miller and the next I’m Mrs. Everly Sutton. We don’t even kiss. It’s all very stilted and formal, with Silas’s lawyer there as a witness.

  After the courthouse, we stop at a grocery store and Silas gets several bags of groceries he previously ordered for pick-up. I raise my eyebrows at this, because I’ve never heard of someone doing that—but then again, I’ve never lived with a man before.

  We don’t run any more errands after that, and I’m grateful. My stomach is in knots imagining where I’ll be living. It’s hard to know what kind of place Silas owns.

  He’s rough and tumble, but also effortless, and has no trouble navigating any of the encounters we’ve had with the valet, room service, the checkout desk, or the courthouse. I picture his house as a gorgeous cabin nestled in a small town—but not too small—where everyone knows one another.

  My ring sparkles as the sunlight hits it. We drive toward the plane, and I feel more content than I have in years. The wedding wasn’t some magical affair, but that is the crux of this deal. Choosing to be a mail order bride means I’m giving up the idea of a traditional marriage, a swept-off-my-feet romance … but as I turn my head, looking at Silas, I wonder if true love could grow between us.

  I mean, after last night with Silas I can imagine that possibility. He treated me well, more than well. And even though our wedding ceremony wasn’t romantic, our argument in the parking lot allowed us to air a lot of pent-up emotions. The sexual energy between us is real; even now, as he drives, I see his eyes run over my legs, and catch him looki
ng at my chest.

  And when we get to his house, I know that we’ll consummate this marriage, no doubt about it. I unroll the window, feeling all hot and bothered, imagining the night to come.

  We park the Land Cruiser at a lake where a handful of seaplanes are docked.

  “Does the pilot meet us here?” I ask.

  “What kind of man do you think I am?” he scoffs, shaking his head as he opens his door, then walks over to my side, unexpectedly opening mine for me. Apparently, now that I’m his wife, he’s going to treat me different. “Most Alaskans who live in the backwoods can fly their own planes.”

  “You’re the pilot?” I ask, looking at him and then at the tiny planes behind him. “Like, you’re going to fly us to your house?”

  “My cabin? Yeah. Now grab some of the groceries and I’ll get the luggage.”

  Holding the handles on the paper bags, I follow him to a small yellow plane docked at the edge of the lake. I didn’t expect the plane to be this small … which, okay, I can wrap my mind around that. But to entrust Silas with my life? I mean, I know he’s my husband, but I don’t know how I feel about him piloting me.

  “So how long have you been flying?”

  “All my life.”

  I walk down the dock in a pair of sandals, and I’ve been so distracted with the events of the last twenty-four hours that I’m just now realizing Silas is in some serious outdoor clothing—Carhartt jeans and heavy leather work boots, a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And this was what he chose to wear to his wedding day.

  Looking down at myself, I feel overdressed and underprepared. My little sundress feels silly, my shoes impractical. This whole thing feels ridiculous, climbing into a stranger’s plane and living as his wife.

  Looking at my ring, I’m reminded that I’m way too far in to back out now. We are legally husband and wife. We already made the commitment. And sure, I can always leave, get a divorce or an annulment—but not today.

  As scared as I am, watching Silas pick up my heavy suitcases with ease, his biceps flexing as he loads the cargo and checks the fuel, calms me. He raises his arms to finish packing the plane and his chiseled stomach comes into view. That bare strip of skin makes my heart go pitter-patter and my core belly-flop.