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.

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

bed. He sips his wine again, then offers it to me. Smooth and dark and heady, it caresses my tongue and throat as I swallow,

then looking up, trails it, cool and smooth, over

of my collar bone, he runs the glass over my

to a nipple, stiffening now in a combination of

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. As he cups the breast with a palm,

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

I think you have been wet for much of the day. That’s very good. I

Oh, God…

me come. I’ve been

his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from

and a hot trickle makes its way down

the bed,” he murmurs. “Close your

out to

me, he’s standing close, his body heat on my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush against me, the woollen fibres of his sweater tickling, the fabric of his jeans

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

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

and I jolt. “I can smell your arousal. I know you are

nape of my neck to the top of my

down to my ribs. His palms caress me, but his thumbs dig in,

“Ryan… Please…”

the shoulders, pressing me forward and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all but

between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes into melt-down and

knew you

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

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

my hair, pulling back my head, straining me

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

Come

rhapsody as repeatedly and

Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched

a joint crescendo, each

his teeth. “I

*****

Christmas Eve

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

Ryan inhales. “Are we

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

table, happily making Christmas tree ornaments. Mitch flips through a glossy magazine, admires the photo of a red dress, then rips out the page, folding the paper with practised ease into a multicoloured

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