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

stand over him where he sits on the end of the bed. He sips his wine again, then offers it to me. Smooth

up, trails it, cool and smooth, over the line

he runs the glass over my chest,

over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in a combination of cool

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 and I hiss at electricity jangling

his teeth, plucking and tugging, drawing out my flesh. His free hand

“Already wet for me, Kirstie. But then, I think you have been wet for much of the day. That’s

Oh, God…

come. I’ve been waiting for

he releases my breast, but the fingers of his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from the choker. “This… says

knees threaten to buckle, and a hot trickle makes its way down inside

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

out to grip

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

into my hair, he 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

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

me, the bite on my neck sharp enough for pain, and I jolt. “I can smell your arousal. I know you are growing ready for me. But

down from the nape of my neck to the top of my spine; the

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

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

knew you were

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.

back my head, straining me against the other hand planted between my

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

may Come

out my rhapsody as repeatedly and again, Ryan sheathes himself deep inside

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

heartbeats banging a joint crescendo, each through to the other, we lie,

“I call that a good

*****

Christmas Eve

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

inhales. “Are

down to rub his face then, blowing into his palms, holds them over the fire. “… But the snowplough will be along in a while.

glossy

discuss where he might have been, so I hold my