Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 51

Klempner

It’s not as though I don’t have the time to think… To plan…

I might be short on the creature comforts, but if there’s one thing I have in endless supply, it’s time.

And the time hangs.

There are times I consider finishing it. It wouldn’t be difficult: to tangle myself in the chain and let myself fall into the fetid water.

But even at the end of hope, life remains sweet.

And I have a better reason…

Mitch...

When I think of Juliana’s threats, my throat tightens, my breath catches. My mind freezes over.

But I’m no good to Mitch like that. Or Jenny. So I don’t let myself dwell on it.

She’s alive…

If she weren’t. Or if Juliana had succeeded in committing some harm to her, I’m quite sure she would have told me. Almost certainly, she would show me some kind of proof.

She hasn’t. Ergo, Mitch is alive and well.

But Juliana is never going to release me…

The key…

It dangles from its nail, tormenting me with its promise of freedom.

I have to be patient, make my moves slowly. But I can’t afford too much patience. With the poor diet and unsanitary conditions…

… and the depression…

… and the darkness…

… I’m conscious that I’m no longer in good physical condition. And that’s only going to get worse every day.

Even the fetter around my ankle is looser than it was.

How much weight have I lost?

How long can I last?

I have to escape.

So… How?

*****

Michael

“Morning, Mitch.”

Early Spring sunshine streams down on the sultry beauty. A large bag full of who-knows-what women’s paraphernalia is by her feet. A book pokes out of the top. Pregnancy For The Older Woman: All You

Need To Know.

She smiles at me from her seat by her front door, setting a porcelain cup on its saucer. Mint-scented steam rises from the pale-green tea.

Cradled into the nook of her other arm, Cara gurgles, trying to point at the birds pecking up a little scattered grain. Her aim’s a bit off, still wobbly and uncoordinated, but she’s trying. As she sees me, she breaks into a gummy smile, then at the sight of Bear and Scruffy trotting along behind, she bounces and jiggles in Mitch’s embrace, little arms outstretched.

“You alright there? With Cara using you as a trampoline?” I nod down to the now noticeable swelling of her stomach.

“I'm fine. Just holding her until James arrives. He's having a shower after he and Jenny went riding.”

“You’re waiting for him?”

“He's dropping me off at the clinic on his way to the office. Jenny’s in the stable if you’re looking for her.”

“I was, yes. I'm at a loose end, so I thought I'd see if she wants some help with the garden.”

“I think you’ll find she’s mucking out the horses right now.”

The clip of leather on stone behind me: it’s James, freshly shaven, his hair still damp; suited and booted. “All ready, Mitch?”

“I am, yes.” She makes to stand. “Michael, could you…”

“Of course.” I take Cara from her. The tiny girl blows a bubble at me. I blow one back.

James heads for the stable…. “I'll just say goodbye to Charlotte…” … and reappears half a minute later followed by Charlotte.

“Okay, let's go.” James offers Mitch his hand. Although her pregnancy is showing now, she still moves gracefully, elegant on his arm.

“Thanks, Michael.” Charlotte takes Cara from my arms. Then, to her mother, “You're sure you don't want me to come with you?”

“I'm a big girl. I can manage.”

“Here…” I stoop to pick up Mitch’s bag. “Let me carry this to the car for you.”

*****

Waving the pair off, I return to the stable. Charlie nickers, her ears swinging forward as I enter, knowing what to expect as I take the usual carrot from my pocket. Oliver snorts and stamps, then as I snap the carrot in two, stretches forward to accept his half. Both horses munch contently. Bear drops into the straw panting. Scruffy trots across to investigate a crack in the plaster that has been known to divvy up delights such as rats.

Charlotte, in rough jeans and rubber boots, is back up to her knees in horse bedding, fork in hand, shuffling straw through the prongs.

“I came to see if you needed any help?”

The smile again. “Thanks, but I’m fine.” She forks up another load of straw, shaking the clean parts free and dumping the rest in her barrow.

“It's nice to get back to a normal life, isn't it.”

She holds the pitchfork held in one hand, balancing it on the other. She purses her mouth, tilts her head. “Is it normal? Mom pregnant. My father dead…”

“Let's pretend it's normal.”

“And how do we do that?

I grin. And wait.

She eyes me. “What? What is it?”

I widen my eyes. Flash my brows. “What's what?”

The eyes narrow. “You've got that look...”

“What look would that be?”

“You know what look.”

Oh, yeah…

I let my eyes travel over her. Let her see me doing it. “You know, you really do things for me like that.”

Charlotte sucks at her cheeks. “I'm shovelling horse shit into a barrow, and I do things for you?”

“Yeah, well, it's like when you're wearing your hard hat and steel-toed boots.” I move in closer, take the fork from her and set it against the wall. “I rather like you dressed like that too.” A hand on either hip, I nuzzle into the crook of her neck, nibbling.

“Yes, I remember. You bent me over a crate in your van...” She struggles, hands on my chest as though trying to push me away. But she’s not trying very hard. “There’re those, Michael Summerford, who might say you have depraved tastes.”

I slap my hand to my heart. “I’m wounded.” I scan the stable. “What I can bend you over in here?” Then I scan again. “Where's Cara?”

Charlotte nods towards an old chest of drawers. Well past its better days, once it furnished a bedroom in the hotel. Now, it houses tack, bits of leather, saddle soap, wax and rope. A single enormous cobweb drapes diagonally from one edge up the white-washed wall to anchor on a rafter. It’s owner crouches up in the top corner looking satisfied and well-fed.

But today, the top drawer stands open, horsey paraphernalia shoved to one side to make way for fleecy blankets and the gurgling Cara. She’s already watching us, and as she sees me looking at her, she gurgles, beaming a gummy smile, holding out wriggly-fingered hands.

“Hi there, Sweetie.” I scoop her up, supporting her under the arms to bounce her up and down a bit. Then, I move into the sunshine to get a better look. “She’s getting a good head of hair now. As dark as James’ almost. But there’s definitely a touch of red in there.”

Charlotte and I exchange smiles. “She has his eyes too,” she says.

“So she does.” I kiss the little girl’s forehead. “Who’s going to be a dark-eyed lovely, then?” She chuckles, burbles and blows a bubble at me.

Charlotte moves to stand by me, rests her head on my shoulder. “The next one’s yours. Perhaps she… or he… will be a strawberry blond.”

I want to reply, but buy myself some time to speak, laying Cara back in her spot amid the horse tack. When I reply, I speak carefully, choosing my words. “I had the impression, Babe… that… you didn't much enjoy being pregnant?”

She sniffs and shrugs. “I’ll admit, the reality came as a shock. I’d never realised just how big a change it is. But I’ve gotten past that. I'm ready for it this time…” She hooks hands around my neck, tip-toeing

to kiss me. “And I did promise you the next one.”

“You're sure about that?” I cup her cheek with my hand. “I don't want you to feel pressured.”

Her brow creases. “Don't you want one that's yours?”

Wrapping my arms around her, I rock her gently side to side. “More than almost anything.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.” Pulling back, I press a finger to her mouth. “I don't want you doing something you don't really want to. Babies are a long-term commitment.”

“I do want to. If you want to.”

“I do.” Sliding hands down behind her, I palm her ass. A plump cheek cupped in either hand, my cock gives me a nudge, and I glance around the stable again. “Mmmm, how about a practice run?”

“Here? Michael, I smell of horse.”

“Nothing wrong with the smell of horse….” Charlie nickers and tosses her head… I nibble at an earlobe. “… And we can both have a shower afterwards.”

She grins and play-pretends to push me away… ”Michael Summerford, you are just a kinky bastard.”

“I knew there was a reason you married me.” I pull her back towards me by the ass, pressing her against my burgeoning groin. “It's rather nice to have my wife all to myself.” A couple of straw bales are stacked by the wall. “Those’ll do.”

Charlotte’s mouth might be protesting, but her eyes say otherwise. Hitching her up, I semi-prop her against the bales. “Hold on to me.”

Her eyes dance as her hands come up back up around my neck….

“That's more like it. Get yourself comfortable.” I fumble for her belt.

She puffs air. “If you think you're parking my bare ass on prickly straw, you're wrong.”

“Easily fixed,“ I mutter, nudging her back to the ground, Tugging my sweater off over my head, I lay it over the straw. “A throne fit for a queen. Now…” I return to her belt… “Let's get those off, shall we. You’ll not be needing them for the next few minutes.” I unravel the belt, shoving my giggling wife’s jeans down.

Charlotte slaps at my hands. “Let me get these boots off first.”

“A good thought.” Hoisting her up again, I plonk her on the sweater, then tug off her boots. Then her jeans and panties, to leave her naked from the waist down. My cock’s already at half-mast inside my jeans as I move in close and she wraps her legs around my waist. She smells warm and welcoming and only a little horsey.

“Let's get you warmed over shall we.” Kneeling, my knees resting on straw, I push her knees open. “Rest your feet on me. Get yourself comfortable.”

Her soles resting on my shoulders, Charlotte leans back, her ponytail swinging back against the straw, giving me a front-row view of her lovely pussy.

There’s still laughter in her voice. “You're not going to scare the horses are you?”

“Depends how much noise you make.”

I take a moment to enjoy the view. Her pale inner thighs, veeing to the startling copper of the curls; her labia, rapidly pinking up.

Her perfume wells in a warm cloud as I stroke her thighs; long, slow, finger-tip caresses, starting by her knees and drawing down and into her warming sex. “I knew there must be a good reason this is James favourite position.”

Head back, eyes closed, she chuckles again. “It is, isn’t it.”

I stroke her labia with a fingertip. “You're so beautiful you know. I never get tired of looking at you.

She lifts her head, opens her eyes to meet mine. “Shovelling horse shit, you mean?” But her lips quirk.

“It keeps you fit. Here, look at you now. Apart from your boobs, you've gotten your old figure back already.”

She frowns, though only a little. “D’you think I'll get it back as fast with the next one?”

It really did bother her…

Never thought of her as vain…

“I don’t see why not. You look after yourself. Um… you realise you're not likely to conceive again while you're breast-feeding full time?”

She grins. “Doesn't mean we can't practice. And if we're going to have a lot of babies in the house, we might as well have them altogether; Cara, Adam, Mom's baby...”

“Your brother or sister...”

“Yeah... There’s a thought…”

Getting a little serious?

Save that for later…

I move in, mouthing at soft pale skin, following the same path as I did with my finger: a soft bite just below her knee, then drawing the heat of my lips and tongue downward… downward and inward… towards her fragrant sex.

Charlotte sighs, shifting her position a little, dropping her head again, settling back and lifting her hips to me. Trailing lips over her swelling outer lips, I…

A snort in my ear is followed by a nudge on the shoulder, setting me reeling…

“Shove off, Charlie!”

… Warm air blows by my ear…

“… This isn’t the time.”

The mare gives a disappointed nicker and ambles back to her spot in the straw, exchanges nuzzles with Oliver, then tugs a wisp of hay from the rack. Jaws grinding the hay from side to side, she watches me accusingly.

Charlotte bursts out laughing, dropping back against the bales, her body shaking.

“Calm down, Woman. How am I supposed to enjoy pussy-cocktail with the horse assaulting me from one side and you shaking like a bloody Hula dancer from the other?”

Charlotte makes a not very convincing attempt to straighten her face, then creases up again, knees curling up to her chest while I try fruitlessly to stretch out her legs again and open her up.

Charlie yanks out another wisp of hay, watching me with an assessing eye. You have been weighed and found wanting…

I eye the mare. I don’t have a lot of experience with horses. Not that I dislike them, but up close, they’re so bloody big, “Um… She won't take offence at this will she? Me manhandling you?”

Charlotte tosses her head at the mare. Charlie tosses back and continues her munching.

“Charlie's had foals of her own. A few of them. Oliver's one.” Charlotte’s eyes level with mine, mischief dancing behinds the wings. “She knows what it is to be covered by her stallion.”

“Covered by…? Is that right?” I’d like to say more, but off-hand, I can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound corny or as though I’m begging for a compliment.

Stallion, eh…

I silence Charlotte by planting my mouth over her, sucking a swollen lip into my mouth and pulling, letting it slowly slide free. Her chuckle morphs to a gasp. Then another, as I open her up with my fingers, plunging in with my tongue.

I’d normally warm her up a bit more before I did this, but I think a little wifely respect is due to the man sucking out her pussy. Delving in deep, I swipe against the quivering muscle inside, winding a circle with my tongue-tip, then drawing her inner labia through my teeth.

She shudders and yells, but I’ve planted my palms inside her thighs, pinning her…

Got your attention now…

Her body gives lie to all her protests. She’s hot and liquid, and as I probe with my tongue-tip, beginning to flow. Juices running nicely, I think her pussy’s had enough attention for now and I shift to pay her clit the homage it deserves.

A hand to either side of her sex, holding her outer lips apart, she’s splayed and open. Gleaming with her juices, scarlet with her arousal, her vulva is nothing but an invitation to my mouth…

There’s an urgent signal from my groin…

… Okay… My cock’ll get its turn in a little while…

Her clit is still cloaked and I ease back the hood with the tip of a thumb, exposing the tiny erect nub.

My hands flat against her, I can feel her tremble building. A growing tremor shivers through my palms, but I’m not nearly ready to fuck her yet…

… My cock pulses a reminder at me…

… Down Boy… Sit and Stay…

… I’m gonna fuck you raw in a while…

Before I move to her clit, I give myself the treat of her juices. Her pussy is opening, flowing beautifully, a glistening nectar trickling. A long slow voyage of her vulva… a single stroke… She’s briny and acidic…

Above me, breath whistles in, then out again, and Charlotte’s hips judder. Fingers lace into my hair, winding around my ears. Another journey, swiping through her hot folds, laving her with my breath, nibbling and sucking until, at the end of the journey, with the smallest tip of my tongue, I trace a circle around her stiff bud. Not touching the sensitive tip, I probe into the root, pushing and prodding.

A groan, and the fingers at my ears abruptly become nails, digging in…

Taking her clit between my lips, I massage and gently suck…

….Above me, the heaving of breath. Close to, a flooding pungency: Charlotte at full arousal…

And ready to be fucked…

My cock is clamouring demands for release and as I stagger to my feet, I’m fighting the pressure at my groin. Unzipping, my erection all but springs for release. I’m set to kick off my jeans, but only get them shoved from my hips when Charlotte clamps her legs around my waist and hauls me in.

Sinking into her is soooo… easy. So hot. So wet. So delicious. My hands under her ass… Her hands hooked around my neck… We move together in a smooth syncopating rhythm; me thrusting hard and slow and long… She rising to meet me, lifting her hips to sheath me completely.

She pulls herself closer, her weight taken behind my neck and I lift her a little, my mouth meeting hers as we rock and fuck and love together.

Charlotte’s face is red, dripping with perspiration. Her sweat and mine mingle as we kiss. Her depths are heated, liquid, pulsing and tight. Her breath shakes and her ribs shudder against mine…

Her voice is rising, moans turning to cries, cries turning to wails…

My climax is rising: my groin tight: my balls pressured. But I resist it…

Come for me…

She’s beginning to pulse inside…

Come for me…

“Michael…” Panting and breathy, she clings to me, hips jerking and bucking, then freezing. Hot flesh clenches around my shaft, and again, and again…

And…

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!?”

On autopilot, my face jerks sidelong to the stable door…

WTF?

… there, silhouetted against the daylight: Georgie.

The silhouette strides in. “What the fuck are you doing?”

As she moves from the harshness of the daylight, her face is more clearly visible: contorted and red. Eyes rimmed white, she stands, hands spread, her body shaking.

Charlotte sags in my embrace, her voice muffled against my chest. “Oh, fuck.”

I murmur low, tightening my hold on her, cupping the back of her head with my hand. “Shhh. Cool it, Babe.”

“You think you’re going to get away with this? D’you think I won’t tell my Dad?” rasps Georgie. She stabs a finger toward me. “You’re supposed to be his friend!” And she stamps out again.

For several seconds, long seconds, we simply pause, Charlotte and I. My heart is pounding, but now, for all the wrong reasons.

Then, withdrawing my wilting erection. “James really should have explained to her before now. Something tells me he’s in for an uncomfortable afternoon.”

I want to ‘get myself together’… Alright, I want to get my cock back inside my pants, but Charlotte clings to me. “We haven’t done anything wrong.” Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

I kiss the top of her head. “No, we haven’t. But James is in for a bad time, I’d say. Or at least a hard time explaining.”

She exhales and releases me. “I’ll give you that one.” Her normal colour is returning, but her hair has escaped the ponytail and she swipes sweaty locks back from her face. The pulse at her neck is

pounding at about the same rate as my own heartbeat. “If he’d told her before, he could have broken it gradually to her.”

“Yup. Now he has to explain it all in one go.”

*****