“Look at you, making decisions so fast, like a boss.”
I set her cards aside and pull her to me. “Yes, I am the one in charge.”
“That’s pretty hot…speaking of, is the heat on in here? Because I’m roasting.” She lifts the hem of her sweater, pulling it over her head.
Her tits look so fucking perfect in her push-up bra and my cock strains against my jeans. “The Lovers card was a pretty good draw, wasn’t it?” I ask her, surprising myself. I’m not usually so playful, so open-minded … but right now all I want in the world is to make Sophie happy. How could I not? She is cute as a goddamned button, sincere and so sweet that I can’t help myself. I want to make her smile, to squirm … hell, I want to make her squirt.
“Before I make that call, I’m going to have my way with you, wife. Understood?”
She nods, unhooking her bra so her full, round breasts are on display. Hell, if I’d died and gone to heaven already last night, I’m not sure what to call this.
I lay her down on the couch, tugging off her leggings, her panties — her everything. I want my wife bare before me. “You’re so fucking sexy,” I tell her and she blushes, cheeks red, but she likes it too. Being told how hot I think she is.
“Last night … you made me feel so alive,” she confesses, and her words excite me. I want to make her feel like that again. Over and over and over again.
I run my palm over her entrance, warming my girl up. She’s nice and wet after a simple flick of a finger. Her clit is needy, and I know what she needs. Me.
Lowering myself to the floor, I take her cunt to my mouth, the way I did last night. She is juicy and willing, and when I suck against her sweetness, she moans in pleasure. My fingers move against her, filling her pussy the way my cock will soon enough. She loves it, clawing her hands through my hair, panting as I finger fuck my bride.
“You taste so good, Soph,” I tell her, my tongue lapping up everything she offers. I add a third finger to her entrance and she whimpers as I begin to move hard and fast against her, the release pouring over my hand. Thank god this couch is leather because my wife is making a perfectly delicious mess.
I keep banging her cunt. She’s dripping for me, and I spread her knees, my cock raging under my jeans. I want her so bad, I want to bend her over my knee and spank her creamy ass. I want to fuck her from behind, against the wall, until she can’t speak or breathe. Until she is begging to come.
“God I need you,” I admit, my words nothing but truth. Her tits bounce as I finger her, her juicy pussy pulsing with delight. I move my hand faster, making her squirt against me, the way she needs. The way I’d hoped. Fucking hell, my wife has a pussy that could make men kneel before her. Hell, here I am doing just that.
I can’t hold back, I push down my jeans and flip my girl over, holding her hips I bury my thickness into her cunt, making her scream my name, beg for more. For everything. I’ll give it to her.
“Fuck, Sophie, fuck me,” I growl in her ear, pulling her hair, kneading my big hands in her tits.
“Oh, Sullivan, oh yes, yes, ohh.” She is panting and breathless and my fucking treasure. It feels so good, my come exploding in her pussy, her release causing her knees to buckle, to dig her nails into the couch. We finish, and I spin my bride around, both of us hot and sweaty, our need to fuck overtaking everything else.
“Again,” I tell her. “I need to take you again.”
She nods. “My body is yours, husband.”
And it is. I pick her up, her shaky legs wrapping around me, and I deposit her on the kitchen island, ready to claim her all over again.
Chapter Seven
Sophie
The next morning I wake up delirious. My entire body is sore. Sullivan may never have had a wife before … but he is certainly experienced in the bedroom. Err, the kitchen and the living room, too, and well ... basically the entire house.
The smile on my face is wide, but when I roll over, the other side of the bed is empty. Standing from the bed, I wrap a sheet around me and go to the bathroom. Afterwards, I check my phone — mostly because I’m getting paranoid. There is a text from Charlotte, making sure I’m okay, and I tell her that I’m doing great. I send her a few photos I took during the plane ride in of the view. Her texts were welcome, but the voicemails from Robby make my skin crawl. He is pissed. And I know the right thing to do would be to walk up to Sullivan and tell him about the loan shark.
I step out of the room, lured by the smell of coffee, planning to tell Sullivan about the calls. This is my second morning waking up as a married woman and I’ve never felt more happy in my life — I can’t let a thug like Robby ruin it.
But as I walk down the stairs, I hear Sullivan shouting into his phone in his office. “And there is nothing we can do about it?” He slams down his fist into the table and I jump back, moving to the kitchen to not disrupt him. I hate the idea of him being angry, so I decide to make some breakfast to cheer him up.
Thankfully, Sullivan has a well-stocked kitchen. After getting myself an espresso, I find some pancake batter and begin whipping up a batch, pushing thoughts of Robby away. I need to focus on my marriage. Marriage. I can hardly even believe this is my life. By the time the griddle is greased and hot, the batter is ready and I add a scoop to the pan. The sizzling butter makes my stomach growl and I grab plates and maple syrup just as Sullivan enters the kitchen.
“Hey,” I say, biting the side of my lip. I’m not experienced with relationships … and I am not sure how to navigate a bad mood. “Everything alright?”
He scoffs. “Alright? No, I’m not alright.” He takes the plate of pancakes I offer him and he pours half a bottle of syrup over them. Fuming.
“What’s wrong?”
He looks at me like I’m insane. Which isn’t fair, he’s the one who obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
“Remember that advice you gave me yesterday?”
I frown, trying to understand what he’s talking about.
“You told me not to sell. I had a buyer, ready to close, and you told me not to.”
Stiffening, I press the spatula in the pancake I’m cooking. “I didn’t tell you anything.”
“Yes you did. You told me the cards never lie, to draw one, that the Sun meant yes and that I shouldn’t sell.”
I balk. “I wasn’t giving you financial advice, we were playing around … we were…”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Playing around? I trusted you. You told me this was the real deal and I decided to go with you.”
“Well, sorry my advice was bad. It’s not like I blew your fortune or anything. It was one decision.”
He huffs. “Of course it didn’t blow my fortune, I’m not an idiot. But it cost me three million dollars.”
I gasp. “Three million?” I have no idea what kind of money Sullivan has, but apparently a lot if he’s willing to risk that much on a tarot deck that neither of us can properly read.
He shakes his head. “Yeah. Three. I could have sold yesterday, had my partner sign on the dotted line, had a deposit the same day. Instead I keep it and—” He groans, shoveling pancakes into his mouth.
“And what?”
“And there was a mudslide last night, ruining an entire portion of the land.”
Twisting my lips, I try to put it together. “And you’re blaming me?”
“I took your advice.”
“Sure, but you’re not actually out the money. You weren’t actively trying to sell it, were you?”
He reaches for another flapjack. “It’s the principle.”
“This is so not my fault.”
“You’re right. It’s the….” He waves his fingers in the air. “The fault of the crystals you’re consulting. That’s the last time I ever ask you for advice.”
I practically choke on my coffee. “Are you serious? Come on, Sullivan. We were having a good time, messing around —”
“Three. Million. Dollars.” He drops the plate in the sink and turns t
o leave.
“You’re not being fair. In fact, you’re being an ass. I didn’t sign up for a jerk of a husband. Isabela at the agency promised me a kind and reasonable man, not a caveman who pouts when he doesn’t get his way.”
“I’m not pouting — I’m pissed.”
I pick up a pancake and toss it at him, so angry with his hissy-fit.
He snatches it out of the air and takes a bite. “I never signed up for a bride who trusts her astrology chart more than herself.”
Hands on my hips, I step toward him. Both turned on by his emotions and indignant that he is being so callous.
“In fact,” he tells me, “I never really wanted a wife at all. I wanted to prove my brother wrong, that’s all.”
I glare at him, pointing a finger. “You are so, so … Gah!” I stomp my foot on the tile floor and hate the fact I want to kiss him. Hard. Now. Really, really hard. I want him to pin me against a wall and take me for all I am. I want to toss the crystals into the ocean and cross my heart, hope to die, to never ever read another horoscope in my life if it means more of this. Him. Me. Here.
So. Freaking. Hot.
I step back, not trusting myself. “Well, if you didn’t want a wife, you should never have ordered one!” Then I leave the kitchen, letting him clean up the mess. I need to calm down — and it will start with an ice-cold shower. Because apparently fighting with my husband gets me more hot and bothered than playing nice.
Chapter Eight
Sullivan
I clean up the kitchen, trying to calm myself down. Dammit, I scared Sophie away — the one thing I didn’t intend to do. I load the dishwasher, cursing under my breath the entire time, hating that I fucked things up with her.
Sophie, the girl who has never had a chance at having a family; a forever. And here she is, alone with me, and I scared her away.
I hear her upstairs. The shower is running and I wish I had more experience with women … I mean, other than sex. After cleaning the kitchen, I pull open the doors that lead to the patio to clear my head. I moved here for the wide open spaces, for the chance at taking a break from the goddamn grind, and a month in, I’m already chaining myself back to my desk, making business deals I swore I’d take a break from.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I answer it when I see it’s my brother Harrison.
“You alive?” he asks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, sitting down on the stone steps that look over the ocean.
“Well, you tell Hannah and me you ordered a bride, that she was arriving a few days ago, and you never call to tell us how it went.”
“She’s here.”
Harry chuckles. “Well Hannah’s on pins and needles, dying to meet your girl.”
I run a hand over my beard. “It won’t be happening any time soon.”
“Why’s that?”
“I pissed her off this morning.”
Harry puts me on speakerphone. Great, now his bride can hear all about my problems too. “What did you do?”
I proceed to tell him exactly what went down, how I pulled a tarot card and made a decision, how I could have made three mill if I’d chosen something else.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Harry asks.
“Hell no. She’s got all these ideas about the Universe and it just cost me a pretty penny.”
“You’re just annoyed you made a bad call. Don’t put this on her,” Hannah says. “Besides, why were you working in the first place? I thought you moved to that house to get back to your roots.”
“It was the plan, but damn, I took the call and next thing I knew I was wheeling and dealing.”
“You need to say sorry to her,” Hannah says. “Now.”
“I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”
“That isn’t her problem. Man up,” Harry says.
“I don’t need shit from you,” I tell my brother, wondering why I ever answered the call.
“You’re right,” he relents. “I’m not looking to fight. But you’re my brother, and Hannah needs you to settle down with this wife of yours. She needs company.”
“So now this is about Hannah, not about me?”
“Stop it, Harry,” Hannah says. “It’s not about us. It’s about you. Did you really marry her?”
“Yeah, the day she landed.”
“And you want to stay married to her?”
I think about Sophie. Her bright eyes and tender heart, her willingness to jump in with two feet to this crazy marriage. Her sweet virgin skin was a gift, but it’s not just sex — I want to take care of her. Protect her. I want to be her man.
“I do,” I tell them.
“Then you need to go apologize,” Hannah says. “Besides, we all know she did nothing wrong.”
“Her cards—”
“Her cards aren’t the problem,” she says. “You are.” She sounds like she could claw my eyes out and it makes me thankful we’re hundreds of miles apart. “You’re a workaholic. And truthfully, I’m glad this happened. Go outside, take in the fresh air. I think you need to fall back in love with this mountain as much you need to fall in love with her.”
We hang up and I know my family is right. I was a fucking ass this morning and my wife deserves more. So much more.
Wanting to give her a bit more space, I spend a few hours clearing out some fallen branches, doing what Hannah suggested, letting the fresh air clear my mind. I may have wanted to prove my brother wrong when I ordered a wife, but it’s become so much more than that in such a short time. Now it’s about being the man Sophie needs.
The sky is clear and I look around, wondering how I got so goddamn lucky as to inherit this piece of land. The idea of sharing this place with Sophie … fuck, I owe her a real apology.
I head inside, looking for her. She doesn’t answer, and I poke around my Grandad’s place, reacquainting myself with the nooks and crannies. At the end of the hall I see the door open that leads to a narrow flight of stairs to the attic, ajar.
I climb them, and when I reach the top I see Sophie on the wooden floor, photo albums spread out all around her. She doesn’t notice me — she runs her fingers over pictures, her eyes soft and her hair loose. She’s in one of her flowy dresses, her left shoulder bare, her skin perfectly sun kissed. There are a few large windows up here and sunlight filters through, illuminating her in the most beautiful way.
“Sophie?” I step toward her and she starts, surprised that I’m here.
“Sully, I didn’t hear you.”
I sit down next to her. An old trunk is open and a thick leather album is in her lap.
“I hope you don’t mind me going through these things…”
I shake my head. “Not at all. I haven’t been up there in … years. And that was only to play hide and seek with Harry.”
“Look,” she says, pointing at a sepia photograph of my great-grandparents. They are in waders, in the ocean, fishing poles in hand. They are smiling, holding up their catch of Alaskan salmon.
“That was great-great granddad Joseph and grandma Pearl. Never met them, of course, but they were the ones who first put down their roots here on this piece of land.”
“They look so happy.”
“They were pioneers. Came from Seattle and decided to start over.”
She flips through the pages, of photos, the oldest ones of my family. Faded, but still holding memories that anyone could feel just by looking at them. They were adventurous, taking hold of this land and staking claim to this place.
“It’s amazing, to just take a risk like that, in this wilderness,” she says.
I smile softly, my hand brushing against hers. “You did the same thing though, didn’t you? Coming here, taking a chance on an Alaskan man?” She nods, her eyes meeting mine. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. For yelling. For blaming you. For being such a caveman as you put it.”
She smiles gently, her eyelashes enrapturing me with each blink. “I like some caveman aspects.”
“Oh yeah
?” I ask, setting the album aside. “Like what?”
She bites the side of her cheek. “The growling. The …”
“What?”
She swallows. “I liked it when we were fighting — not that we were in a fight … just how … intense it felt.”
“You like the heat?” I ask, pulling my bride toward me.
She nods. “I like what you bring out in me.”
I squeeze her ass as she kneels before me. “I like what you bring out in me, too,” I tell her. “Hell, I was a fucking fool to blame you. Forgive me?”
She nods. “I forgive you, husband.”
“I know you think I bought you—”
“You did. You paid off my debts and …”
“I would do it a million times over. Three million times over.”
“It’s too much, I feel like I won the lottery with you, Sully … I don’t deserve it.”
“Shhh, you deserve the entire world. The sky. The stars.”
“I thought you didn’t put stock in all that?” she asks with a teasing smile.
“I’ll put stock in us. I want this to work, Sophie.”
She nods. “I want it to work too.”
I kiss her then, my hands on her face, drawing her to me. Needing this — her. Needing to be closer than I’ve been with another soul. “Is this what they call kiss and make up?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes, but I think we should call it something else.”
“What’s that?” she asks as I hike up her dress, needing her to sit down on my lap where she belongs.
“Making things right by making love.”
“Love?”
I nod. “Yes, Sophie. Love.”
Chapter Nine
Sophie
Sully is being so sweet with me — too sweet, really. He is generous and honest and here I am burying my cell phone deeper in my purse. I’ve checked it three times in the last day and Robby’s incessant demands are growing worse.
Yesterday, after Sully and I fought, I couldn’t stand the voicemails anymore so I answered. Told him I was out of the state and was changing my number.
The Mountain Man’s North Star: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance Page 4
