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.

high-cut at the thighs to make the best of 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

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 swallow, then pools

goblet back 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

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

over my breasts to a nipple, stiffening now in

down, leans in, wrapping his lips around the nipple. My breath jolts at the hot-flesh-chill-wine on my

my flesh. His

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 easier for me

Oh, God…

Please let me come. I’ve been

rumbles again. “We’ll see.” Rising, he releases my breast, but the fingers of his other hand still curl into my loins. He touches the

to buckle, and a hot trickle makes its

bed,” he murmurs. “Close your

turn, reaching out to grip

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

washes over me, laving me in his heat. I quiver at the softness of his lips

purrs then liquifies. I semi-turn, wanting to return the kiss, but his grip on

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

nape of my neck to the top of my spine; the soft bite of his teeth,

arms 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,

“Ryan… Please…”

me forward and down. Losing my grip on the bedposts, I all but collapse, face-down and

my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes into melt-down and I cry out as he plunges into

I knew you were

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

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

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

and flows, making a scalding fluid trail down

Come for me,

into orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody

quiver my way through climax, only just aware that Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched around my body as, grinding his hips

joint crescendo, each through to the other, we lie, sated

teeth. “I call

*****

Christmas Eve

firewood. Stacking it by the hearth, he swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle

Ryan inhales. “Are

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 arrival of the Mongol hordes. There’s enough in the house to see us through to the New Year. No-one’s going

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, folding the paper with practised ease into a

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