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.

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 them down over thighs and calves to leave

bed. He sips his wine again, then offers it to me. Smooth and dark and heady, it caresses my tongue and throat as I swallow, then

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

of my collar bone, he runs the glass over my chest,

nail strays further, tracing a tight, sharp path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in

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

and tugging, drawing out my flesh. His free hand

his chest. “Already wet for me, Kirstie. But then, I think you have been wet for much

Oh, God…

let me come. I’ve been waiting

curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which

hot trickle makes its way down inside

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

turn, reaching out to grip

brush against me,

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

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

bite on my neck sharp enough for pain, and I jolt. “I

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

smoothing over my arms then moving over my breasts and down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig

“Ryan… Please…”

between the shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing my

up. In the same movement, boots shove between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes

I knew

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 and cry and howl in a rhythm to match his as

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

pulling back my head, straining

fluid trail down

Come for

screaming out my rhapsody

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

crescendo, each through to the

nips my earlobe with his teeth. “I

*****

Christmas Eve

in, muffled up 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 good two feet of snow that

Ryan inhales. “Are we snowed

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,

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

seems inclined to mention Klempner’s arrival or discuss where he might have been, so I hold my