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.

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

my heart beats faster. Moving closer, I stand over him where he sits on the end of the bed. He sips

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

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

over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in a

around the nipple. My breath jolts at the hot-flesh-chill-wine on my skin. As he cups the breast with

with his teeth, plucking and tugging, drawing out my flesh. His free

for me, Kirstie. But then, I think you have been wet for much of

Oh, God…

let me come. I’ve been waiting

rumbles again. “We’ll see.” Rising, he releases my breast, but 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

to buckle, and a hot trickle makes its way down inside

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

reaching out to grip

close, his body heat on my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush against me, the woollen fibres of his sweater tickling,

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

return the kiss, but his grip on

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

of my neck to the top

hands follow, palming and smoothing over my arms then moving over 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 bedposts, I all but collapse, face-down and gasping, onto the

same movement, boots shove between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a

I knew you

him hours ago and now, as he fills

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

head, straining me against

flows, making a scalding fluid trail down my thighs. And now, the throbbing comes,

Come for me,

my rhapsody as repeatedly and

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

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

nips my earlobe with his teeth. “I call that a good start to

*****

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. “I reckon that’s a good two feet of

me, Ryan inhales. “Are we

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

tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires

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