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…

the table, everyone

I slide the panties down and over my ankles, pressing them

James is already half-standing

I wipe it down on

Ryan’s lips don’t move. But his hand does, pushing between my

chew turkey while having

*****

she

Charlotte pipes up. “Bladder?”

blushes. “Um,

if you like. Give you a hand. I know what it’s like when you’re that size and you’re trying to manage with your dress and

struggling herself to get up from her seat and

do with a comfort break myself, but with Ryan’s finger working spirals between my pussy lips, I’m conscious of the dampness

Black dress, not red…

Hmmm…

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

austere expression

always wondered

say, “Because it is an ideal opportunity

lip. “I

the footsteps recede down the hall, James cocks his head, listening, then stands and clicks the door open. A tide of dogs flows into the room, tails wagging, noses raised towards table level, or in Emma’s case, above table

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 speeds away with it, trailing oily tissue

exchange inspired glances, snatching off their own hats. Michael wipes his down with a bit of turkey skin, then clicking fingers and tongue. “Archie.

like the Four Horsemen learning they are late for the Apocalypse. Meg, in her best rendition of the role of Famine, sits at Richard’s feet, raising limpid brown eyes to him, then as she