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.

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 them down over thighs and calves to leave myself naked save the velvet choker at my neck; his gift to me, the symbol of what

Moving closer, I stand over him where he sits on the end of the bed. He sips

up, trails it, cool and smooth, over the line of my chin and neck. My skin prickles and my

he runs the glass over my chest, then replacing it with a fingernail, descends through the

tight, sharp path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening

it around his mouth, then setting the glass down, leans in, wrapping his lips around the nipple. My breath 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

gently, he teases at me with his teeth, plucking and tugging, drawing out my flesh. His free

think you have been wet for much of the day.

Oh, God…

come. I’ve

still curl into my loins. He touches

knees threaten to buckle, and a hot trickle

murmurs. “Close your eyes.

reaching out to grip

clothes brush against me, the woollen fibres of his sweater tickling, the

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

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

I jolt. “I can smell

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

down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig in, the nails short and blunt,

“Ryan… Please…”

pressing me forward and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all

between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At

knew

pistons in. No opening me. No gradual waking of the flesh. I was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body with his, I yelp

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

head, straining me against the other hand

pussy wells and flows, making a scalding fluid trail down my thighs. And now, the throbbing comes, the start of

Come for

screaming out my rhapsody

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

each through to the other, we lie, sated

teeth. “I

*****

Christmas Eve

in a thick roll-neck 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 a

Ryan inhales. “Are we

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.

Charlotte and Mitch sit next to each other at the table, happily making Christmas tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires the photo of a red dress,

mention Klempner’s arrival or discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of the room, a whiskey glass in one hand, not drinking, just silently watching the