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

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 and throat as I swallow,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, God…

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

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

and a hot trickle makes its way down inside my

he murmurs. “Close your eyes. Spread

turn, reaching out to

me, he’s standing close, his body 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 my

into my hair, he 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 his teeth as he mouths over

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

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

to the top of my spine; the soft bite

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

“Ryan… Please…”

down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all but collapse, face-down and gasping, onto

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

knew

in. No opening me. No gradual waking of the flesh. I was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

straining me against

pussy wells and flows, making a scalding fluid trail down my thighs. And now, the throbbing

Come for me,

I ricochet into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody as

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

banging a joint crescendo, each through to the other, we lie, sated and

“I call that a good start

*****

Christmas Eve

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 dropped

inhales. “Are we

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

by, Charlotte and 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 the page, folding the paper with practised

have been, so I hold my tongue.