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 over thighs and calves to leave myself naked save the velvet choker at my neck;

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, then pools warm in my

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

runs the glass over my chest,

sharp path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in

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

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

much of the day. That’s very good. I

Oh, God…

me come. I’ve been waiting

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

and a hot trickle makes its way

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

reaching out to grip the

standing close, his body heat on my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush against me, the

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,

his grip on my shoulders tightens. “You may not

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

from the nape of my neck to the top of my

smoothing over my 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

“Ryan… Please…”

forward and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all but

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

knew

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

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

pulling back my head, straining me against the other hand planted between my shoulder

down my thighs.

may Come for me,

into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody as repeatedly and again, Ryan sheathes himself deep inside

aware that Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched around my body as, grinding his hips against mine, he

joint crescendo, each through to the other, we lie,

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

*****

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

inhales. “Are

rub his face then, blowing into his palms, holds them over the

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

been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of the room, a whiskey glass in one hand,