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.

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

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 it to me. Smooth and dark and heady, it caresses my tongue and throat as I

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

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

strays further, tracing a tight, sharp path over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in

at the hot-flesh-chill-wine on my skin. As he cups the breast with a palm,

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

for me, Kirstie. But then, I think you have been wet for much of the day. That’s very good. I like that. It

Oh, God…

let me come.

hand still curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from the choker. “This…

buckle, and a hot trickle makes its way down

“Close your eyes.

reaching out

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

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

grip on my shoulders tightens. “You may not move. I have

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

down from the nape of my neck to the top of

me, but his thumbs dig in, the nails short

“Ryan… Please…”

Without warning, he pushes me, flat-handed, between the shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all but collapse,

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

knew you

waking of the flesh. I was ready for him hours ago and now,

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

knots into my hair, pulling back my head, straining me

down my thighs. And now, the throbbing

may Come

orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody as repeatedly

aware 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 the other, we lie, sated

earlobe with his teeth. “I call that a good

*****

Christmas Eve

with firewood. Stacking it by the hearth, he swipes off

inhales.

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 enough

ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires the

appeared overnight. No-one seems inclined 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 glass in one hand, not drinking, just silently