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.

the best of my 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

Already, my heart beats faster. Moving closer, I stand over 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

it, cool and smooth, over the line of my

glass over my chest, then replacing it with a fingernail, descends

path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now

around the nipple. My breath jolts at the hot-flesh-chill-wine on my skin. As he cups

and tugging, drawing out my flesh. His free hand glides south, fingertips

chest. “Already wet for me, Kirstie. 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 I will let you

Oh, God…

Please let me come. I’ve been waiting

breast, but the fingers of his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from the

to buckle, and a hot trickle

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

out to grip the

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

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

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

enough for pain, and I jolt. “I can smell your arousal. I know you are growing ready

down from the nape of my neck to the

His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig

“Ryan… Please…”

well.” Without warning, he pushes me, flat-handed, between the shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing my

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

knew you

was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body with

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

my hair, pulling back my head, straining me against

making a scalding fluid trail down my

Come for

released, I ricochet into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody as repeatedly

writhing, I pulse and jerk and quiver my way through climax, only just aware that Ryan has dropped down on

crescendo, each through

his teeth. “I call that a good start to

*****

Christmas Eve

sweater and a scarf, loaded with firewood. Stacking it by the hearth, he swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle onto the tiles. “I reckon that’s

Ryan inhales. “Are we snowed

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 Mongol hordes. There’s enough in the house to

a glossy magazine, admires the photo of a red dress, then rips out

has appeared overnight. No-one seems inclined to mention Klempner’s arrival or discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue. He