Epilogue
HUDSON—AT THE END OF THE WEEK
I’m standing at the altar, hands clasped tightly in front of me, trying to keep them from shaking.
My heart is pounding like a war drum in my chest, each beat louder than the last. The breeze is soft on my face, carrying the scent of wildflowers and pine, and the mountain air is crisp, clear—perfect.
But nothing, not the sky, not the view, not even the peaks surrounding us, comes close to how she looks.
Daisy .
The moment I see her step out, my breath catches hard in my throat.
I blink fast—too fast—trying to keep my eyes from giving me away.
If I let even one tear fall, I’m done for.
But hell, she’s breathtaking. That dress, that light in her eyes, the soft smile she’s giving me—it’s too much. She’s too much.
She walks slowly, graceful as ever, like she belongs in this mountain air, wrapped in sunlight. Her hair is curled, loose around her shoulders, and the way it moves with each step—God, I’ll never get over that. I can barely breathe.
I can’t believe it’s only been a week. One week since I opened that cabin door and found her standing there, holding a cat and changing my whole damn life. I didn’t know then that she’d be the one to soften me, to surprise me, to wake something up inside me I thought had gone quiet forever.
And now, here she is—walking toward me like she was always meant to.
The dress is simple, elegant, clinging to her curves like it was sewn just for her.
But it’s not the fabric or the shape that gets me—it’s the woman in it.
The fire in her. The strength. The kindness.
The way she looks at me, like I’m worth loving.
I almost laugh when I think about it—Mountain Mates planned this whole thing. They picked the spot, they set up the altar, they arranged the flowers and the food and whatever else makes a wedding feel like a dream. And it does. But it’s not their work that stuns me. It’s her. It’s always her.
I can’t wait to hold her hand. I can’t wait to call her my wife—officially. And I swear, right here and now, with my heart cracking open in my chest, I’m going to spend every damn day trying to deserve her.
We’re finally back at the cabin after the wedding. Our cabin.
The door shuts behind us with a soft click, and silence settles in, wrapping around us.
The silence hums with energy, with anticipation.
Daisy’s standing a few feet in front of me, her back turned, her dress glowing ivory in the low firelight.
Her hair’s a little tousled from the wind, and when she glances over her shoulder, her eyes catch mine and hold them like they always do—like they never plan on letting go.
I felt like I waited years to see her walk down that aisle, to see the dress. And now, I can’t wait to see her take it off.
"Can you help me with this zipper?" she asks, voice low and playful.
My hands are already moving before I even speak. “Thought you’d never ask.”
I step in close—close enough to breathe her in. Her perfume is soft and warm, like wildflowers. I touch the zipper at the base of her neck, but I pause, letting my fingers rest there for a moment.
“This dress,” I murmur, dragging the zipper down slowly, “has been driving me insane all day.”
“Yeah?” she says, breath catching slightly.
“Mm-hmm.” I let the zipper slide lower, the fabric parting like petals, revealing smooth skin and the delicate line of her spine. “Every time you moved, I thought about getting you out of it.”
She lets out a soft laugh that turns into something more like a shiver.
“I think that’s what wedding dresses are for,” she says, voice teasing. “To drive husbands crazy.”
“Husbands,” I repeat, grinning against her neck. “Still getting used to that.”
She turns then, the dress slipping from her shoulders, catching at her hips, held up only by the tension between us. She tilts her chin up, eyes gleaming, mouth slightly parted like she’s waiting for it—like she wants it just as badly as I do.
My voice is rough when I say, “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna do something about it.”
Her breath hitches. “Then do it.”
I don’t need to hear another word.
I cup her jaw with one hand, the other sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against me.
I lower my mouth to hers, not gentle, not slow—just heat and hunger and the kind of want that’s been simmering under my skin since the day I met her.
Her lips are soft and sweet, but the way she kisses me back?
It’s fire. She tastes like tension and temptation, like everything I’ve been trying not to want too fast—but can’t help craving.
She fists my shirt, pulling me in deeper, like she’s trying to climb inside me—and hell, maybe she already has. Her body molds to mine, warm and eager, and my thumb brushes along her jawline, grounding us in something that’s just as much about tenderness as it is about heat.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
I rest my forehead against hers and whisper, “You undo me, Daisy.”
And judging by the look in her eyes, she knows it.
Her hands are on my chest, then sliding up around my neck, pulling me down into her. Her lips brush mine, and it’s soft—just a whisper of a kiss—but it lights every nerve in me like a fuse.
She leans in close to my ear. “So… you gonna make an honest woman out of me?”
“Oh,” I whisper, lifting her into my arms. “That’s exactly what I’m about to do.”
She moans as I kiss her, my tongue exploring her mouth. Her lacy lingerie that barely covers her nipples and leaves her pussy completely exposed. "Holy shit," I breathe, “every time I look at you, you look better than I remember.”
She smiles, reaching down to stroke my cock through my pants. "I hope you're ready to put that thing to good use," she says. Her tight little cunt can’t even fathom the things I would like to do to it.
I growl, pulling her close and kissing her hard. My hands roam her body, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples. She moans, her pussy grinding against my thigh. "I've been ready for this since the moment I saw you," I growl, my fingers finding her clit and rubbing slow circles.
She gasps, her legs trembling as I continue to tease her. "Please," she begs, "I need more."
I smirk, my fingers slipping inside her and curling up to hit that spot that drives her wild. "Like this?" I ask, my fingers moving in and out of her as I continue to rub her clit.
She moans, her head falling back as she loses herself in the pleasure. "Yes," she gasps, "just like that."
I continue to fuck her with my fingers, my thumb taking over rubbing her clit. She’s so wet, so fucking hot, and I can't wait any longer. I pull my fingers out of her and strip off my clothes, my cock standing at attention. "I need to be inside you," I growl, my hands gripping her hips.
She nods, her legs wrapping around my waist as I lift her up and impale her on my manhood. She gasps as I fill her with my length, her pussy clenching around me. "Fuck," I groan, "you feel so good."
I start to move, fucking her hard and fast as she hangs on for dear life. "Yes," she moans, “more, Hudson. I can’t get enough of you!”
I comply and throw her to the bed, my hips slapping against hers as I drive into her again and again. She’s so fucking wet, so fucking tight, and I can feel her orgasm coming. "Come for me, Daisy," I growl, my fingers finding her clit and rubbing in time with my thrusts.
She screams, her pussy squeezing around me as she cums hard. I groan, my cock throbbing as I fill her up with my cum. I fall next to her on the bed.
I smile, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. "I told you you were mine," I say, my hand resting on her hip.
She smiles, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. "And I told you I was ready," I say, her voice full of promise.
I know that this is just the beginning, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us. But for now, I'm content to lay here with Daisy, my wife, and bask in the afterglow of our wedding night.
Thank you so much for reading The Mountain Man’s Mail Order Muse. If you loved Daisy and Hudson’s Story then you'll love Emerson and Axel’s story in The Mountain Man’s Mysterious Bride.