Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Ryan takes the wineglass from my fingers, setting it down on the table. There’s that look in his eye. “Time to retire, I think.”

I take a shot at demure… “I think so, yes.” … But as his nostrils flare, realise I have failed miserably.

He presses against my thigh, oh, so lightly… And my already warm pussy purrs. Several hours of waiting and the promise of the kind of incandescent sex Ryan offers, have me teetering on the brink.

Which was of course entirely his intention with the day’s earlier performance.

“We’re going to bed,” announces Ryan. “It’s been a long day for us.”

Voices call around us. Heads nod.

“Of course. Goodnight.”

“See you in the morning.”

“Sleep well.”

I don’t believe I’ll be sleeping for a while yet.

As we exit, Michael, eyes creasing, waves towards the tray of drinks on the sideboard. “Take a bottle up with you and a couple of glasses.”

Ryan chooses a bottle of Rioja. “Very civilised of him,” he murmurs as we make our way up the stairs.

In the bedroom, he closes the door, pushing until the lock clicks. He runs eyes over me. “You may undress, Kirstie.”

Heat rises in my cheeks. Even as I tug the thick sweater off over my head and my skin gooses, my neck and face are warm.

Ryan makes no attempt to remove his own clothes. Instead, he adds a couple of logs to the fire, using bellows and a poker to rouse the flames, then he turns off the ceiling light, leaving us bathed in the firelight.

He pours wine red as a holly berry into the two glasses then, resting a hip on the end of the bed, sips from one of the glasses, watching as I undress. Fire flickers and dances over the slight wave of his hair, raising highlights in amber and gold. His face is calm, almost tranquil, but his chocolate eyes too, reflect the flames which glimmer against the dark centres.

My beautiful Lover. My Dom.

My Master.

What do I feel for him?

Arousal?

Desire?

Lust?

Love?

I shimmy out of my jeans, then kick off thick furry socks. My bra, black satin and lace, I chose because I know Ryan likes the style, which enhances my not-overgenerous breasts.

in silence as I hook fingers into the side laces, sliding them down over thighs and calves to leave myself naked save the velvet choker at my

him where he sits on the end of the bed. He sips his wine

goblet back from me, then looking up, trails it, cool and smooth, over the line of my chin and neck. My skin prickles

bone, he runs the glass over my chest, then replacing

breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in a

jolts at the hot-flesh-chill-wine on my skin. As he cups the breast with a palm, suckling gently, the nipple puckers, hardening further and I hiss at

my flesh. His free hand glides south, fingertips sliding through the dark hair at

But then, I think you have been wet for much of the day. That’s very good. I like that. It makes it easier for me to decide if

Oh, God…

Please let me come. I’ve

rumbles again. “We’ll see.” Rising, he releases my breast, but the fingers of his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles

threaten to buckle, and a hot trickle makes

bed,” he murmurs. “Close your eyes. Spread your

turn, reaching out to grip

naked spine. His clothes brush against me,

with a twist, he pins it up. Laying hands on my shoulders, his breath washes over me, laving

return the kiss, but his grip on my shoulders tightens. “You may not move. I have not given you

“I can smell your arousal. I know you are growing ready for me. But

from the nape of my neck to the top

moving over my breasts and down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig in, the nails short and blunt, pressing at my skin, sending pinpricks

“Ryan… Please…”

between the shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing my grip

clutch me at the hips, pulling my ass up. In the same movement, boots shove between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes into melt-down and I cry

I knew you

was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body with his, I yelp and cry and howl in a rhythm to match his as my

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

straining me against the

and flows, making a scalding fluid trail down my thighs. And now,

may Come for

out my rhapsody as repeatedly and again, Ryan sheathes himself

I pulse and jerk and quiver my way through climax, only just aware that Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched around my body

a joint crescendo, each through to the other, we lie, sated and

“I call

*****

Christmas Eve

hearth, he swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle onto the tiles.

Ryan inhales.

toe of his boot at the heap of dogs lolling in front of the flames. “Budge up you lot.” Grumbling, they shift to make room for him. Scruffy yaps protest. Michael grins, bending down to rub his face then, blowing into his palms, holds them over the fire. “… But the snowplough will be along in a while. And in any case, when James stocked up the kitchen, I think he was planning for the arrival of the

flips through a glossy magazine, admires the photo of a red dress, then rips out the page, folding the paper

arrival or discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of the room, a whiskey glass