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 and calves to leave myself naked save the velvet choker at my

I stand over him where he sits on the end of the bed. He sips his wine again, then offers it

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

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

breasts to a nipple, stiffening now

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

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

have been wet for much of the day.

Oh, God…

come. I’ve been waiting for

my loins. He touches the pearl which dangles from the choker. “This… says that I get to

and a hot trickle makes

the bed,” he murmurs. “Close your

turn, reaching out to grip

close, his body heat on my skin, my naked spine. His clothes brush

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

the kiss, but his grip on my shoulders tightens. “You may not move.

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

nape of my neck to the

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…”

down. Losing my grip on the bedposts,

In the same movement, boots shove between my ankles, forcing my feet apart. At the rasping of a zipper, my cunt goes into melt-down and I cry out as he plunges

knew

I was ready for him hours ago and now, as he fills my body

… My Master…

… fucks me hard.

my head, straining

trail down my thighs. And now, the throbbing comes, the start of

may Come

orgasm, screaming out my rhapsody as repeatedly and again, Ryan sheathes himself deep

I pulse and jerk and quiver my way through climax, only just aware that Ryan has dropped down on top of me, arms clutched

crescendo, each through to the other,

his teeth. “I call

*****

Christmas Eve

roll-neck sweater and a scarf, loaded with firewood. Stacking it by the hearth, he swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle onto the tiles. “I reckon

me, Ryan inhales. “Are we snowed

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

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, folding

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