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

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

cool and smooth, over the line of my

collar bone, he runs the glass over my chest, then replacing it with a

a tight, sharp path over my breasts to a

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

my flesh. His free hand glides south, fingertips sliding through the

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

Oh, God…

Please let me come. I’ve been waiting

fingers of his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from the choker. “This… says

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

murmurs. “Close your

turn, reaching out to grip

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

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 my shoulders, biting

his grip on my shoulders tightens. “You may not

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

down from the nape of my neck to the top of

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 at my skin, sending pinpricks of pain cascading down to ravish my

“Ryan… Please…”

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

boots shove between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes into

knew you

No opening me. 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 his as

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

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

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

Come

ricochet into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody

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

each through to the other, we lie,

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

*****

Christmas Eve

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

inhales. “Are we snowed

the toe of his boot at the heap of dogs lolling in 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. And in any case, when James stocked up the kitchen, I think he was planning for the

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,

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