Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Larry slices into something, chews, then says, “This is excellent. What am I eating here?”

James looks across to his plate. “Prune-stuffed pork. Regional speciality where I grew up, usually made for special occasions.” Larry’s brows arch.

Under the table, I become aware of a hand on my thigh. Ryan appears to be listening to the conversation, but ‘below stairs’ he eases between my knees, pushing them apart. Very quietly, he murmurs, “Open up.”

James and Larry are still talking. “Where was that? That you grew up, I mean?”

“Spain.”

“Really? What part?”

“Valencia Province. You know it?”

“Not well. I've visited Valencia city, but I didn't get further afield than that. So, you're Spanish?”

“My mother was Spanish. My father English.”

Ryan eases a finger down and in, tracing a line over my skin that makes my pussy warm and twitch. He speaks without moving his lips. “Wider.”

I’m trying to chew my food, but it’s not easy. Finger and thumb pluck at my panties. “Off.”

“Ryan…” My voice is a hiss.

“Off, I said.”

All eyes are on James and Larry. Nonetheless, I’m happy that, my face made-up, my flush is concealed as I raise myself from my seat just enough for Ryan to hook fingers into my panties and tug down. “Finish the job,” he murmurs. “Take them off and give them to me.”

Christ…

around the table,

slide the panties down and over my ankles, pressing

fork, Kirstie?” James is already half-standing

wipe

don’t move. But his hand does, pushing

astonishingly difficult to chew turkey while

*****

something quiet to her, and she nods, grimacing. Then, “Can you excuse me,

Charlotte pipes up. “Bladder?”

“Um, yes,

you like. Give you a hand. I know what it’s like when you’re that size and you’re trying to

herself upright. But Charlotte is struggling herself to get up from her seat and Mitch rises too. “I think you both still need help

with Ryan’s finger working spirals between my pussy

Black dress, not red…

Hmmm…

shoulder. “Kirstie, why do women go to the toilet

an austere

pipes up. “Actually, I’ve always wondered

do it,” I say, “Because it is an ideal opportunity to compare

his lip. “I had to

door open. A tide of dogs flows into the room, tails wagging, noses raised towards table level, or in Emma’s case, above table

the length of the paper. He snaps his fingers under the table, waving the greasy paper. “Hey, Scruffy. Here, Scruffy.” Michael’s rat-faced mongrel streaks across the floor, snatches at the hat then

a cloud of hair and outrage, but Ryan, Michael, Richard and Larry exchange inspired glances, snatching off their own hats. Michael wipes his down with a bit of turkey skin,

Famine, sits at Richard’s feet, raising limpid brown eyes