Page 2 of Christmas Games
Rory gazed at his wife sitting behind the desk opposite him.
‘You believe the earl will be attending your wedding?’ he asked loudly.
Zoe glanced up with a guilty expression, before swivelling her chair to face the wall and continuing her own conversation.
‘Yes, Greg. Do you even read your emails?’ asked Campbell. ‘I appreciate Lord MacGinley is a busy man, but I’d like to speak to him at least once in the next six months.’
And this is why I put on a Scottish accent and call myself Greg, Rory thought, circling the astronomical figure Zoe had scrawled on a piece of paper the last time he’d suggested they cancel this particular booking.
‘I’m sure that can be arranged, Mr Monteith.’
‘Good. Make it so, Greg. Make it so.’
Rory finished the conversation with as much politeness as he could muster, then stalked across the room to his wife’s desk.
Time for payback.
Zoe’s chair was facing away with her long legs extended and her feet propped up on a two-drawer filing cabinet.
Rory sat on the edge of the desk behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, massaging away the tension created from a half-hour conversation with a new supplier.
Zoe leaned back into his touch, her ‘hmms’ of affirmation directed down the phone morphing into sounds of enjoyment directed at him. Rory knew her body intimately, and every little shudder and noise of pleasure made his cock twitch. Zoe’s wild curls were perched on the top of her head, secured in place with a pencil, leaving her neck exposed. He trailed soft kisses from her hairline down to her ear and she shuddered.
Smiling, he gently bit the lobe.
‘Ahhh! Er! Oh no, um, I thought I saw a mouse. What? No! We don’t have any mice in the castle,’ she babbled.
Rory ran a hand inside her top, rubbing a hardened nipple through her bra.
‘Oh god! Um, it’s a spider. I’m so sorry, I have arachnophobia. Can I ring you back in five minutes?’
‘Fifteen,’ Rory murmured.
‘Sorry, I meant five times three.’
He reached inside her bra.
‘Fift… Agh! Call you right back!’ she cried, ending the call.
Turning her chair, Rory lifted Zoe onto his lap. She wrapped herself around him, her tongue meeting his as she squirmed against his hardness. He wanted to tease her, to torment her for agreeing he would attend some random person’s wedding. But he didn’t care anymore. It would be a minor inconvenience in a life now filled with love and happiness, all thanks to his crazy, brilliant, firecracker of a wife.
The phone rang.
It was always ringing.
Zoe pulled away with a whimper. ‘I should answer it.’
Rory ripped the cable from the wall.
‘Rory!’
He shrugged and grinned, tugging her T-shirt out of her jeans. ‘I’ll fix it later.’
‘And I forgot I’ve got a meeting at the bakery with Margaret in ten minutes.’
‘I’ll get you off in five,’ he growled, pulling her top and bra off.
That afternoon,in a break between calls, Zoe had scheduled a meeting to discuss the ‘C’ word…
