BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN: The Complete Collection

by Love, Frankie

  This is my motherfucking wedding day, and I’m marking this woman as mine. She may say she has doubts, but she won’t once I remind her what being married to me is gonna be like.

  “Boone, I want you so bad.” Her hands caress my still-hard cock, and I love that her hands naturally gravitate there. She strokes me eagerly, but I know she’ll forget what to do with her hands once my mouth begins to devour her.

  My hands hold her hips as she plants her fine ass over my face. She must know she’s a fucking goddess, because she doesn’t seem at all insecure or shy about the position she’s in. I love that about her—how fucking confident she is when I tell her what to do. She trusts that I know how to take charge.

  Pressing my mouth tight against her gap, I take control of her pussy. I lick her luscious folds, tasting her sweet juice as I run my tongue up and down her length. My beard rubs against her and I feel her body tense for a moment. Then I twirl my tongue over her throbbing clit, and whatever tension she carried is fucking lost. She falls onto me, her tits pressed against my cock, and I love her warm body covering mine.

  I smack her ass as I suck her off, and then, when her sweetness is flowing over my mouth, I press two fingers into her tight little opening. She moans, and then starts whimpering more loudly as I dip in and out of her soaked pussy. I’m glad I went with my fucking gut and took her to the middle of the lake. Her whimperings aren’t the silent type—she’s letting me know, loudly, how much she loves this finger-fuck.

  I add a third finger, and she can’t bear it any longer. Her pussy is pulsing around my hand, and I smile at the sight of her round ass in my face. Her thighs are slick with release, her girlish moans flying around the boat—I swear I’ve died and gone to mail order bride heaven.

  My cock twitches, and damn, I want to be inside her. Rolling her off me, I mount her from above, ready to fill her with my rod.

  “Fuck me, Boone,” she begs, her arms wrapping around my neck, her legs around my waist. As if she instinctively knows that she needs to be as close to me as possible. Damn right, she does. “Make me come,” she moans. “I wanna come with you.”

  I press myself in her, watching her slight wince as my hard cock fills her tender pussy. It’s clear she knows how to fuck, but it’s also pretty damn obvious she’s never been properly filled until she met me.

  “Oh,” she screams, digging her fingers into my back. “Oh, my fucking God, yes, yes.”

  I smile, thrusting into her warmth. Her pussy is shocked into submission, and I rock into her over and over again. She loves it, and so do I, this complete acceptance of whatever we’ve held back from one another. We fuck, and we forget our differences. We fuck and forge into forever.

  Her gorgeous tits bounce as I claim her as mine. She closes her eyes, writhing beneath me as my throbbing cock fills her with my release. She cries out as she comes, panting as the orgasm washes over her. It’s fucking hot as hell to watch. This woman, overcome with me. This woman, realizing she is motherfucking mine.

  There’s no way in hell she can get fucked like that and want to return to a life apart from me.

  There’s no way in hell I’d even let her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Delta

  Boone drives us, momentarily satiated from the fuck of our lives, back to the dock. Stress begins to grow in the pit of my stomach. The lodge is where our problems lie, where our differences will come to a head.

  I know fucking won’t solve everything. Boone said the pastor was coming today. That means I need to make a decision, soon. Either I go all-in and marry this man, and later walk away like a total beotch, or I leave now.

  Because the thing is—I mean, the main thing is—that yes, Boone likes to fuck me. And I like to fuck him. Like, a lot. And yes, our bodies mesh in this basically ultrasonic, cosmic way.

  But watching him steer this boat with a completely content look on his rugged face, I feel like he isn’t considering the thousand ways we may not be compatible. And besides, I don’t even know if I want to be compatible. Does that make me wishy-washy and totally annoying? Quite possibly, but come on! I’m twenty-two, and a recent graduate, and I have my entire freaking life to live.

  “Come on,” he says, offering his hand as we get off the boat. When we left here this morning it was all early morning dew and serenity, but now the lodge is alive with people buzzing about, preparing for opening day, which is only twenty-four hours away. “I’m guessing you’ll want to get cleaned up?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I smirk, “yoga gets me all sweaty.”

  Boone raises his eyes. “That’s what has your thighs sticky and your pussy worn?”

  I feel heat rise to my cheeks—which never happens—and I pull my hand away, smacking him. “Someone could hear.”

  He laughs. “Oh, I’m sure they heard plenty even with us in the middle of the lake.”

  “Am I really that loud?”

  “Louder. Now, let’s go get changed so we can get breakfast. I worked up a fucking appetite.”

  I follow him in the lodge, my eyes lowered as we pass some smirking employees. I try to breathe. These feelings fluttering in my belly—a mix of stress, desire, and curiosity—make it really difficult to know whether this could blossom into something more.

  Or if I even want it to.

  * * *

  Later, Boone and I are sitting down to eat—me with toast, an orange, and fried potatoes, and Boone scarfing down a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage links. I appreciate that Boone hasn’t said one underhanded comment about my food choices. And it may seem like this little thing, but a lot of meat-eater guys get very threatened by people choosing to abstain from their preferences.

  His brother walks into the dining hall, and I do a double take. It’s insane how identical they are. Mason’s drinking a Bud Light. At ten in the morning. And he has a female staffer fawning over him as he swaggers toward us.

  “Hey, asshat,” he calls, jutting his chin at Boone. Mason kisses the girl’s cheek, sending her away, then grabs a chair next to me. He smiles broadly, eyes raised. “So, darling, you holding up okay? Because, you know, Boone here doesn’t date many women, and maybe he forgot how to take care of one.”

  Boone raises an eyebrow. “What’s your fucking angle, Mason?” It’s clear from his tone they’ve had similar conversations in the past.

  “My angle? Damn, bro, you’re a little uptight. Just wanted to check in on my new sister-in-law.” Mason sets a hand on my shoulder, squeezing, and I know it’s all to get a rise out of his brother.

  I watch the exchange, unsure how to react. I can see the tension dripping from Boone’s face and, honestly, I know this isn’t my fight to win. This is something between the two of them. Something I don’t want any part in.

  Mason is such a stereotypical douchecanoe, the way he’s clearly trying to rile Boone up. And it’s working. Guys like him aren’t not my type at all. If I was going to settle down with a man, it wouldn’t be Mason; I would want a man who didn’t need to dig at other men to feel good.

  Boone, on the other hand, is the sort of man I’d choose. Sure, he’s rough around the edges, but he’s a man who knows himself.

  But however not attracted I am by Mason’s personality, the corners of my mouth turn up as he rubs my shoulders, staring down his twin brother the entire time. I can’t help it, it’s kinda funny to watch a guy who looks identical to Boone act so different.

  Boone doesn’t find it quite as humorous. Not even looking at Mason, he spreads jam on a piece of toast and speaks quietly, yet clearly. “Get out of here if you’re gonna be such a fuckhead.”

  Mason throws his hands in the air in mock defeat. “Wow, bro. Lowbrow. I got it; you don’t want me messing with your goods.” He looks over at me, grinning a cocky, self-assured grin, reading me all wrong. I don’t think the way he’s acting is cute at all.

  Boone doesn’t think it’s cute either. “I mean it, Mason. I spent yesterday cleaning up your mess, and you know I have your back—but s
hit, I’m not letting you mess with Delta.”

  The dining room is empty except for us, and it’s awkward as hell sitting here with these two brothers who clearly have a shit-ton of history that I know nothing about. But I like the way Boone doesn’t let Mason get away with anything. It’s sexy the way he tells Mason exactly how it’s gonna be.

  “You’re not gonna let me mess with her? How about what she wants? Maybe she wants a piece of me.” Mason stands, and Boone does too.

  Fuck, this just got real.

  “She won’t have any man but me,” Boone commands. “Understood? She’s my property. And you can fucking step away, Mason.”

  “Dude, I don’t actually want your girl,” Mason says, shrugging. “I’m just joshin’ with you. Fuck, you’re always so damn intense.”

  I pull in my bottom lip, biting back my words. This whole thing is pissing me off—like, hello, I’m right here.

  And I may like Boone ordering me around in the bedroom—there, his orders feel sexy and playful—but hell no, I’m not anyone’s freaking property. This is not 1840 in the wild, Wild West. This is my life. And if he wants to be an ass about me doing yoga outside in the morning on the dock, fine. That’s his issue … but this just became my issue.

  “You know what,” I say, standing. “That isn’t cool, Boone, to talk about me that way.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, you two need to grow the fuck up.”

  I storm out of the dining hall, feeling totally worked up. It’s bullshit, and I need to get my head on straight.

  I need to make some major decisions before Pastor Vince arrives.

  And, unfortunately, Boone’s ego-riddled comments may have put the last nail in the coffin.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Boone

  “What the fuck, Mason?” I yell, pushing him in the chest.

  “Oh, step off,” he says, pulling back. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

  “I’m not being a pussy. I’m letting you know you need to back the fuck up. I’m done dealing with your shit.”

  “Well, this business is half mine,” Mason says, shrugging away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I get it, you’re not dealing with Mom and Dad’s death well—but fuck, don’t take it out on me. Besides, I never said you needed to go; I just said you need to stop acting like a fucking asshole.”

  “You’re the asshole. Your woman just ran out of here.”

  I turn toward the door leading to the deck. Shaking my head, I exhale.

  “Seriously, Mason, when we open tomorrow I need things to go smoothly.”

  “I hear you. But isn’t that what your woman is here to do—take care of everything for you? You don’t need me here at all.”

  His words hit home with me. “Oh, that’s what this is about? You’re mad I brought Delta out here to do the job you never wanted?”

  Mason shrugs.

  “You’re a fucking wreck, and I can’t fix you. Can’t fix this. I can’t bring them back.”

  “I’m not asking you to fix a goddamn thing.” Mason runs his hand over his jaw. “I just don’t know what I want. And I can’t go until I have some plan. I was never the outdoor guy you and dad were. Fuck, I lost your pole on the boat yesterday. Who fucking does that? I’m good at getting drunk and getting laid, and not much else.”

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” I tell him plainly. I see that he’s upset, but shit, I can’t make him grow up. That’s something he has to do on his own.

  “Give me another chance,” he says. “Let me fucking get my shit straight, okay?”

  I clap him on the back, giving him a quick nod. “I know that today you were just trying to fuck with me, but I mean it: don’t fuck around with Delta,” I tell him. “You do that, and it’s over between you and me.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Good. Now I’m gonna go find my woman before she runs away because of you.”

  * * *

  Out on the deck, I can’t find Delta anywhere. I head around to the front office, and hear the phone ringing. Answering it, I’m surprised at who’s on the line.

  Dammit, not part of my fucking plan.

  After taking the call, I drop the phone into the receiver, annoyed, but understanding that plans in the Alaska wild change. Emergencies arise, and life happens. I was just really hoping to seal the deal today.

  Stepping outside the lodge, I see Dirk’s wife Sally carrying a basket of produce in her arms. I ask if she’s seen Delta.

  “She went over to the barn,” Sally says. “I told her to stay close to the house if she was alone. Also, really quick? I wanted to ask if you’d like me to remove the stuffed animals in your room?”

  I must look confused because Sally adds, “Because Delta is vegan, I thought the animals might upset her.”

  I wave her off. “It’s just dead animals; they’re all over the lodge. I don’t think one bedroom is gonna make a big difference.”

  “Okay, well … I thought I’d ask.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her, just glad that Sally told Delta to stay close to the lodge. Wandering off alone in the Alaskan wilderness is a bad idea. I have no problem with her wanting to explore, but she’d need me by her side with a gun in my pocket before I’d let her go anywhere. Besides that, we’ve been doing construction out in the woods—a crew has been here recently, laying foundation for a new outbuilding—and I know there are holes being dug on the outskirts of the property. Someone could get hurt if they weren’t careful.

  I walk around to the back of the property, toward the big red barn. This lodge is special, not only because we offer so many unique hunting and fishing trips, but also because the food is fantastic. Trey makes sure of that, and that’s saying something out here in Alaska. Raising our own cattle, chickens, and hogs means we have local, organic food.

  Delta may have had a meltdown over the meat last night, but at least it was all free range and grass fed. She may think I’m some fucking hillbilly, but I’m not an asshole who doesn’t appreciate where my food comes from. If she could just calm down for a hot minute she might see that.

  Our garden is also expansive and the women who visit value all the work we put into it. Delta will appreciate it, too, if she gets a chance to see that sure, we have some differences, but they aren’t enough to keep us from being happy as a couple.

  “Delta?” I call, stepping into the cool barn.

  She doesn’t answer, but I see her on the hay-covered floor of the barn, patting the back of a piglet who has nuzzled up to the gate. Walking toward her, I can’t help but smile. She’s so fucking gorgeous—and, sitting there with her long blonde hair flowing around her shoulders, she looks like an angel.

  “Her mama just had a litter,” I say, resting my hand on the gate.

  “I see that,” Delta says. “Did you name them yet?”

  “Uh....” I’m not sure how to explain that you don’t fucking name your dinner.

  “I think she looks like a Skylar.”

  “Skylar?”

  “Mmhm.” Delta scratches Skylar’s ears.

  Ignoring the whole naming issue, I sit next to her, my back against the gate. “Sally told me you were out here. Wanna talk about why you ran out of the lodge?”

  “Seriously?” Delta scoffs, shaking her head. “You know, you could just come with an apology, that would fix an awful lot.”

  “What? I’ve known you for one day, so excuse me if I don’t understand exactly what riles you up quite yet.”

  “Honestly, Boone, I don’t think you’re gonna get the chance to learn.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that if you don’t understand why I’m angry, we’re totally incompatible. I don’t know what Monique was smoking, thinking we’d be a good match, because we aren’t. We’re just way too different.”

  It pisses me off the way she goes to extremes so damn fast, and it makes me extreme, too.

  “Is this because Skylar’s gonna make a good Christmas di
nner?”

  “What?” She scowls, looking up at me sharply. “You’re going to—”

  “Eat her? Yeah. Damn, Delta, what do you think we do with pigs on a fucking farm?”

  “I don’t know.” She shakes her head, her lips in a frown. “But see, this is the very reason this won’t work. “

  “Because you don’t eat meat? Shit, go fry yourself a slice of motherfucking tofu, find some micro greens in the garden and make a shitty kale smoothie—but don’t tell me you don’t want this marriage because of a fucking slab of bacon. You owe me more honesty than that.”

  “You are so wrong,” she says, standing.

  I follow her lead, wiping my hands on my pants as we face one another down.

  “I don’t owe you anything,” she says, “after what you said in the dining hall.”

  I pull back. “What? Because I said you were mine? That was the entire fucking plan. You came here for one reason, and one reason alone.”

  “I came here to be a wife, not your property. There’s a big difference.”

  I smirk, not buying her attitude. This girl loved riding my cock this morning, and I don’t even for a second believe she’s gonna be able to walk away from me for good, unless there’s something more she isn’t saying.

  “I see,” I say, stepping toward her, closing the gap between us. “So you’re leaving because you only want to be ordered around the bedroom? Not ordered around my house?”

  “Partly.” She crosses her arms, as if refusing my advance, even though I can see the desire in those eyes of hers, see the heaving of her chest, the hardening nipples under her soft cotton tank.

  “So why else are you leaving?”