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 myself

me. Already, my heart beats faster. Moving closer, I 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 tongue

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

runs the glass over my chest,

breasts to a nipple, stiffening

sips more wine, 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

and tugging, drawing out my flesh. His free hand glides south, fingertips sliding through

sound of pleasure rumbles from 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

Oh, God…

come.

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 when and if

hot trickle makes its way down inside

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

out to grip the

my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush against me, the woollen

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

kiss, but his grip on my shoulders tightens.

bite on my neck sharp enough for pain, and I jolt. “I can smell your arousal.

the nape of my neck to the top of

arms then moving over my breasts and down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig in, the nails short and blunt, pressing at my skin, sending pinpricks of pain cascading down

“Ryan… Please…”

forward and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts,

my ass up. In the same movement, boots shove between my ankles, forcing my feet

I knew

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

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

into my hair, pulling back my head, straining

trail down my thighs. And now,

Come for me,

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

a joint crescendo, each through

teeth. “I call that a good start

*****

Christmas Eve

he swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle onto the

me, Ryan inhales.

at the heap of 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 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 to the New Year. No-one’s going to

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, folding

mention Klempner’s arrival or discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue.