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.

high-cut at the thighs to make the 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

sits on the end of the bed. He sips his wine again, then offers it to me.

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

to the dip of my collar bone, he runs the glass over my chest, then replacing it with

over my breasts to

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 and I hiss at electricity jangling

my flesh. His free hand glides south, fingertips sliding through the dark hair at the vee of

wet for much of the

Oh, God…

come.

breast, but the fingers of his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from

to buckle, and a hot trickle

murmurs. “Close your

reaching out to

on my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush against

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

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

enough for pain, and I jolt. “I can smell your arousal. I know you are growing ready for me.

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

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

“Ryan… Please…”

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

shove between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes into melt-down and I cry out as he plunges into

knew you

for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body with his, I yelp and cry and howl in a

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

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

scalding fluid trail down my thighs. And now, the throbbing comes, the start of

Come for me,

screaming out my rhapsody as repeatedly and again,

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

joint crescendo, each

“I

*****

Christmas Eve

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

me, Ryan inhales. “Are

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, when James

making Christmas tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires the photo of a red dress, then rips out the page, folding the paper with practised ease into a

might have been, so I hold my tongue. He