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.

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 myself naked

end of the 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 pools warm in my

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

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

strays further, tracing a tight, sharp path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in a combination of cool air

glass down, leans in, wrapping his lips around the nipple. My breath jolts at the hot-flesh-chill-wine on my skin.

my flesh. His free hand glides south, fingertips sliding through

his chest. “Already wet for me, Kirstie. But then, I think you have been wet for much of the day. That’s very good. I like that. It makes it easier for me to decide if I will

Oh, God…

Please let me come. I’ve been waiting

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

to buckle, and a hot trickle makes its

he murmurs. “Close your eyes. Spread

out

brush against me, the woollen fibres of his sweater tickling, the fabric

with a twist, he pins it up. Laying hands on my shoulders, his breath washes over me, laving me

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

“I can smell your arousal. I know you are growing ready

the top of my

my breasts and down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig

“Ryan… Please…”

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

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 and I cry out as he plunges into me, ramming

knew you

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

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

my head, straining

down my thighs. And now, the throbbing comes,

may Come for

into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody

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

length, our heartbeats banging a joint crescendo, each through to the

“I

*****

Christmas Eve

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.

inhales. “Are we snowed

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 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 house to see us through

through a glossy magazine, admires

have been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of the