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.

my long legs, and now 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; his gift to me, the symbol of what

where he sits on the end of the bed. He sips his

up, trails it, cool and smooth, over the line of

he runs the glass over my chest, then replacing it

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

pauses, 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 skin.

out my flesh. His free hand glides south, fingertips sliding

of pleasure rumbles from 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 that. It makes it

Oh, God…

Please let me come.

releases my breast, but the fingers of his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the

knees threaten to buckle, and a hot trickle makes

“Close your

turn, reaching out

spine. His clothes brush against me, the woollen fibres of his sweater tickling, the

up. Laying hands on my shoulders, his breath washes over me, laving me in his heat.

grip on

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

to the top of my spine; the soft bite

palming and smoothing over my arms then moving over my breasts and down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig

“Ryan… Please…”

me, flat-handed, between the shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing my grip on

the hips, pulling my ass up. In the same movement, boots shove between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of

I knew you

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.

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

wells and flows, making a scalding fluid trail down my

may Come for

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

only just aware that Ryan has dropped down

heartbeats banging a joint crescendo, each through to the other, we lie, sated and

teeth. “I call that a good start to

*****

Christmas Eve

in, muffled up in a thick roll-neck sweater and a scarf, loaded with firewood. Stacking it by the hearth, he swipes off

inhales.

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

table, happily making Christmas tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires the photo of a red dress,

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