Hot Revenge Box Set 2

The fog swirls outside the window; the light is already dim. Nonetheless, she draws curtains, lights a candle. Then another. The light shimmers over her hair, dances in her eyes.

Her hands on my chest once more, “You want this?”

“Mitch, I’ve never wanted anything else.”

“Good,” she murmurs. She tugs at my jacket. “Why don’t you take this off?” She slides it from my shoulders, hanging it neatly from a hook on the back of the door. “That too.” She nods to my pullover.

I strip it off along with the undershirt below, moving carefully to avoid straining the wound. Then I stand, skin goosing, hoping that...

Mitch chuckles. “Why don’t we just get ourselves where it’s warm?” She reaches under the bed, and something clicks. She wrinkles her nose at me. “Electric blanket.”

Despite everything; the years, the waiting, the wanting… something like bashfulness takes me. I’ve not been celibate in the years between. I’ve scratched the itch when I needed to. But that’s all it was; satisfying an occasional physical need.

I’ve never made love since…

“It feels like Helsinki, doesn’t it,” she says.

“Yes, it does. Mitch…”

Her eyes twinkle. “No pyjamas though…”

“Are we going to need pyjamas?”

She strokes my hair. “Get undressed. Get into bed. I’ll do the same. Let’s find each other again.”

Turning my back to her, I strip off. As I turn, climb between the sheets and under the thick duvet, she’s unclipping her bra, slipping off panties. Naked, her heavy breasts swinging, she slips in beside me.

And there we lie, face to face, enfolded in the growing warmth of Mitch’s bed.

“So…” she says, “Where do we begin?”

“Mitch… I’m not going to keep saying this, but it needs to be said once. All those years ago… I’m sorry I frightened you. I’m sorry I… hunted you… I’m sorry for robbing you of Jenny.”

Her eyes fall… then rise again, something quirking over her mouth. “You’re not sorry about Frank though, are you?”

I inhale. “Um… no. If I’m truthful, I’m not at all sorry about that. The last time I saw Frank, I scared the shit out of him, deliberately so. And no, I don’t regret it at all.”

“Good,” she murmurs. Then, “Larry…” She curls fingers around my hand, pulling it towards herself, sliding my palm over her breast.

My chest tightens but my cock nudges awake. Cupping my hand over the breast, smooth and warm against my skin, with the thumb, I stroke at the nipple. It comes alive under my touch, nubbing.

My lips brushing against hers, with the other arm I curve around her waist, pulling her closer. She eases up against me, pressing herself against my burgeoning erection.

“Are you warm enough?” she murmurs.

“It’s the warmest I’ve been in days.”

My fingers still on the one breast, I drop my lips over the other, mouthing at pale skin, fragrant with her scent, nibbling at the nipple, then tugging at it as it crinkles hard between my teeth.

fragrance. Her fragrance. I’ve

in a sound somewhere between a sigh and a

waves of pressure through

you

and I settle with her thighs parting under me,

erection pressed against her growing heat, her growing

I’m here…

She’s here…

don’t want simply to plunge into

open her with fingers, hilt myself

don’t want that. I’ve waited too

to hear her as she orgasms, that song she first sang

I disengage…

She shifts, protesting… “Larry…”

down her

You’ve barely aged…

still smooth. Muscle still firm. The breasts perhaps are a little softer

of course…

combined rhythms of her panting and her pounding

curving over the line of a still-narrow waist and

still flat. A pale line marks a touch of stretching, but it’s faded, barely visible. I kiss it, then the indent

further down, so close, amid the gleaming copper at her loins, threads

clings to my lips as I mouth

still sheathed, waiting for me. The unfurling seam of her pussy glistens, the flesh swelling, and

already parted, but now she strains wider, raising herself on the soles of her

heating further.

to wait any longer. Parting her lips with paired thumbs, I open her and plunging my tongue in deep, I revel in the taste of her, the scent

swipe of my tongue, every suck of my lips. She grows louder, the shiver of

hands are grasping the back of my head, and as I

“Oh… God…”

thing, I take it between my lips, pressing

methodically, opening my mouth over her, I wind the tip of my tongue around her pearl; tiny circles that nudge and knead

and I plant my hands under

quiet, her body stilling against me, save for a pulsating resonance that

She howls…

thighs and hips and spine, taut and

bone, spilling against my chin and neck and splashing hot over my

Working her, willing her response, I tease at her sweet spot, extending her

She’s calling and laughing… “Enough, Larry. Oh,

is broad, her

“Good?” I ask.

“Oh, God, yes.”

smile turns impish. “I think that makes it your

does. But it can be our turn too.

fades, her eyes fixing on me as I move to