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.

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; his gift to me,

crooks a finger, beckoning 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

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

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

sharp path over my breasts to a nipple,

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

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

for much of the day.

Oh, God…

me come. I’ve been waiting

curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from the choker. “This… says that I

threaten to buckle, and a hot trickle

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

out to grip the

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

but his grip on my shoulders tightens.

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

my neck to the top of

me, but his thumbs dig in, the nails short and blunt, pressing at my skin, sending pinpricks of pain cascading down to ravish

“Ryan… Please…”

shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing

at 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

I knew you were

No gradual waking of the flesh. I was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body with his, I yelp and cry and howl in a rhythm to match

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

into my hair, pulling back my head, straining me against the other

flows, making a scalding fluid trail down

Come for me,

my rhapsody as repeatedly and again, Ryan sheathes himself deep

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

our heartbeats banging a joint crescendo, each through to

his teeth. “I call that a

*****

Christmas Eve

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

me, Ryan inhales. “Are we snowed

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

ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires

discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of the room, a whiskey glass