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.

I chose because I know he likes them. Ryan watches in silence as I hook fingers into

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

smooth, over the line of my chin and neck. My skin

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, God…

Please let me come. I’ve been

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

and a hot trickle makes its way down inside my

murmurs. “Close your

reaching out to

close, his body heat on my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush against me, the woollen

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

the kiss, but his grip on my shoulders tightens. “You

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

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

but his thumbs dig in, the nails short and blunt,

“Ryan… Please…”

he pushes me, flat-handed, between the shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all but collapse, face-down and gasping, onto

my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes

I knew you

the flesh. I was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body with his,

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

my hair, pulling back my head, straining me against the

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

Come for

my rhapsody as repeatedly and again, Ryan

Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched around my body as,

heartbeats banging a joint crescendo, each through to

teeth. “I call that a good start

*****

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.

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

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, then rips out the page,

discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of