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.

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, the symbol of

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

cool and smooth, over the line of my chin and neck. My skin prickles and my pulse begins to

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

path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in a combination of

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 the breast with a palm, suckling gently, the nipple puckers, hardening further and I hiss at electricity jangling

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

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…

Please let me come. I’ve been waiting

hand still curl into my loins.

knees threaten to buckle, and a hot trickle makes its

“Close your eyes. Spread

turn, reaching out to

His clothes brush against me, the woollen fibres of his sweater tickling, the fabric of his jeans scratching my

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

semi-turn, wanting to return the kiss, but his grip on my

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

nape of my neck to the top of my spine; the soft bite

over my breasts and down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig in, the nails short and blunt, pressing at

“Ryan… Please…”

flat-handed, between the shoulders, pressing me forward and down.

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 melt-down and I cry out as he

I knew you

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

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

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

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

may Come for me,

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

writhing, I pulse and jerk and quiver my way through climax, only just aware that Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched around my body as,

a joint crescendo, each through

“I call that a good

*****

Christmas Eve

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

inhales. “Are we snowed

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.

tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine,

to mention Klempner’s arrival or discuss where he might have been, so I hold my tongue. He sits at the back of the room, a whiskey