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.

long legs, and now damp and fragrant with my own arousal, I chose because I know he likes them. Ryan watches in silence as I hook fingers into the side laces, sliding them down over thighs and calves to leave myself naked save the velvet

him where he sits on the end of the bed. He sips his wine again, then offers it to me. Smooth and dark and heady, it caresses my tongue and throat as I swallow, then

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

to the dip of my collar bone, he runs the glass over my chest,

further, tracing a tight, sharp path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in a combination of cool air

My breath jolts at the hot-flesh-chill-wine on

me with his teeth, plucking and tugging, drawing out my flesh. His free hand glides south,

me, Kirstie. But then, I think you have been wet for much of the day. That’s very good. I like that.

Oh, God…

Master… Please let me come. I’ve been waiting for

my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from

buckle, and a hot trickle

bed,” he murmurs. “Close your eyes.

reaching out

on my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush against me, the woollen fibres of his sweater tickling, the fabric of

gathers it in, raising it and exposing my neck. Then with a twist, he pins it up. Laying hands on my shoulders, his breath washes over me, laving me in his heat. I quiver at the softness of his lips brushing over me, then the wet heat, and the soft gnawing of his teeth as he mouths over my shoulders,

then liquifies. I semi-turn, wanting to return the kiss, but his grip on

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

from the nape of my neck to the top of my spine; the soft bite of

follow, palming and smoothing over my arms then 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 of pain cascading down to ravish my

“Ryan… Please…”

and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all but collapse, face-down and gasping,

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

knew you

of the flesh. I was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body with his, I yelp and cry and howl in a rhythm

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

hair, pulling back my head, straining me

a scalding fluid trail down my thighs. And now, the throbbing comes,

may Come for

I ricochet into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody as

aware that Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched around my body as, grinding his hips against

each through to the other, we lie, sated and

“I call that a good start

*****

Christmas Eve

swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle onto the tiles. “I reckon that’s a good

Ryan inhales.

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

Christmas tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy

my tongue. He sits