Page 72 of Musical Games
His mum pulled him away from the sink. ‘Don’t waste any more time on this, you get going.’
Sam looked at him through her eyelashes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘Thank you, Morag, that’s amazing.’
She went to the stairs and he followed.
‘Where are you going?’ Morag asked.
‘To Jamie’s room?’
‘Don’t be daft, I’ve just tidied the lounge for you. I want to listen in.’
Sam’s face fell and he fought to remain calm.
‘My own private concert. I can’t wait!’
Jamie didn’t knowif sexual frustration made for better music, but he knew their performance was faultless. He was desperate to get everything right the first time so he could get his mother out of the way and be alone with Sam. He hadn’t kissed her for nearly thirty-six hours and was desperate to feel his lips on hers, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. They sang with their eyes locked on each other, raw emotion binding them together. When they’d finished each song, they checked the recording, then emailed them directly to Brad’s assistant, Crystal, from the laptop. It had taken a while to set up the microphones, so by the time they were finished they only had an hour before they were due at the castle for the band rehearsal.
Sam stood. ‘Thank you, Morag. What are you up to now?’
His mother blew out her cheeks. ‘Not sure, love. I might watch some telly?’
‘Sounds a perfect idea. I think I’ll go upstairs and pack. Jamie, would you be able to give me a hand?’
‘Oh, I can help—’
‘No, I’ll do it,’ he said hurriedly. ‘You put your feet up.’
Sam dashed out of the room and he followed her into the kitchen before his mother could say another word. He closed the door behind them and tugged her to him, cradling her head as he brought his lips to hers with a groan.
A loud knocking at the back door jumped them apart. Zoe barrelled in, her left arm outstretched, an enormous ring on her fourth finger.
‘I’m engaged!’ she screamed.
By the timethe rehearsal at the castle was finished, Jamie was at his wit’s end. There wasn’t a moment he could be alone with Sam. Everyone wanted to talk to them. If he was shy and antisocial before, now he was a Trappist monk with an attitude problem. Even on the walk to and from the castle they were accosted. He had to keep biting his cheek to stop telling everyone to fuck off and leave them alone.
Back at the house, his mum cooked them dinner and his sister arrived to monopolise Sam, dragging her upstairs to select an outfit for the night. He stomped after them, crashing about in the bathroom and banging his wardrobe door like a petulant teenager as he got dressed.
There was a knock at his door.
‘What?’
Sam poked her head in. ‘Are you nearly… Holy shit.’ Her eyes raked over him. ‘Jamie McDougall. Oh my good god.’
Heat rose through him. ‘Is my sister out there?’
She shook her head. ‘She’s downstairs with your mum.’ She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
‘Jesus, Sam,’ he groaned.
She was wearing a black dress that hugged and caressed her curves. It was strapless, held up by the magical power of her incredible breasts. He itched to pull it down and suck them into his mouth.
She stepped to him and bunched the sides of his kilt in her hands, finding his skin and following it up to his hips. Her eyes widened and she gasped.
‘You’re not wearing any underwear!’
‘I didn’t want any VPL.’
She giggled and made small circles with her fingernails. He bucked towards her and she moved to his front, stroking his cock with one hand and rolling his balls with the other. He closed his eyes tightly and let his head fall back, his breath hissing in and out. She gripped harder.
