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, everyone talking to everyone

to ‘retrieve it’. In the five seconds I have to work with, I slide the panties down and over my ankles, pressing them into

James is already half-standing from his

I wipe

move. But

difficult to chew turkey while

*****

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

Charlotte pipes up. “Bladder?”

“Um,

“I’ll come with you if you like. Give you a hand. I know what

out as she heaves herself upright. But Charlotte is struggling herself to get

working spirals between

Black dress, not red…

Hmmm…

the shoulder.

austere expression on

I’ve always wondered that too…” James and Richard

say, “Because it is an ideal opportunity

plucks at his lip. “I

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 level,

whips off his pirate hat, then snatching up a pig-in-blanket, he smears bacon fat all along 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

of the dogs follow him in a cloud of hair and outrage, but Ryan, Michael, Richard and Larry exchange inspired glances, snatching off their own hats. Michael wipes

role of Famine, sits at Richard’s feet, raising limpid brown eyes to him, then as