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

air escaping her throat in a sound

at that, my shaft surges, sending waves of pressure through my groin and

you inside

rolls back, taking me with her and I settle with her thighs parting under me, my harder

her growing heat, her growing

I’m here…

She’s here…

simply to

with fingers, hilt

want that. I’ve waited too long

want her to come for me. I want to hear her as she orgasms, that song

I disengage…

She shifts, protesting… “Larry…”

I slide down her body; her beautiful

You’ve barely aged…

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

of course… you’re

combined rhythms of

curving over the line of a still-narrow waist and broad

belly is still flat. A pale line marks a touch of stretching, but it’s

close, amid the gleaming copper at her loins, threads

scented of a warm musk which clings to my

find her bud, still sheathed, waiting for me. The unfurling seam of her pussy glistens, the flesh swelling, and as I draw my lips over

now she strains wider, raising herself on the soles of her feet,

liquid and liquifying. Hot and heating further. And, already fragrant, her

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 of her, the glory of

volume with every swipe of my tongue, every

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

“Oh… God…”

thing, I take it between my

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

my hands under her hips, pinning her as

save for a pulsating resonance

She howls…

arched thighs and hips

her climax gallops through muscle and bone, spilling against

response, I tease at her sweet spot, extending her pleasure and the moment

Oh, Stop…” She’s calling and

pull away, kneeling up, resting my hands on her inner thighs. Her smile is broad,

“Good?” I ask.

“Oh, God, yes.”

“I think that makes it

does. But it can

eyes fixing on me as I move to cover