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.

because I know he likes them. Ryan watches in silence as I hook fingers into the side laces, sliding them down over thighs

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

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

collar bone, he runs the glass over my chest,

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

swishing 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

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

for much of the day. That’s very good. I like that. It makes it

Oh, God…

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

Rising, 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 that I get to decide

knees threaten to buckle, and a hot

“Close your eyes. Spread your

turn, reaching out to grip the

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

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

pussy purrs then liquifies. I semi-turn, wanting to return the kiss, but his grip on my shoulders tightens. “You may not

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

to the top of my spine; the

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

“Ryan… Please…”

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

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

knew you

now, as he fills my

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

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

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

may Come

I ricochet into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody as

pulse and 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 hips against mine, he groans and

each through to the other, we lie, sated and

with his teeth. “I call that a good

*****

Christmas Eve

it by the hearth, he swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle onto the tiles. “I reckon that’s a good two feet of snow

inhales. “Are we snowed

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

at the table, happily making Christmas tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires

overnight. No-one seems inclined to mention Klempner’s arrival or discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of