A Thigh Hih Christmas (2 page)

In private, it was payback time for Fiona. When she thought Maxwell would break and either explain his true motives or at least tell her she was taking this too far, he would remain still, almost stoic. He was always in her peripheral vision, either at home or in the office, but didn’t speak directly to her unless it was about Bella or sex. That was the one thing they agreed to before they married. To never deny the other that chance to bond and reconnect. Even if WWIII was going on outside the bedroom walls, inside those walls was where they reaffirmed that bond to stay together, no matter what.

When they left the confines of IWorks, they again became just Fiona and Maxwell, the couple, and Fiona was despairing that her Christmas with her family was going to be tainted by some work drama. But she knew that if she accepted this sort of heavy-handed tactic from her boss, be it her husband or not, she would lose the professional respect she had worked almost two decades to achieve.

But even with all her pro-woman rhetoric, she couldn’t help sticking it to Maxwell on a purely male/female level also. He’d always loved her long, curvy legs and luscious ass. At five-nine, she was taller than average, and with her normal sky-high heels she normally towered over her male counterparts. For Maxwell, she was the perfect height—he joked that with her heels on he could kiss her lips and in bare feet he could kiss her forehead. To complement her shoe fetish, he had taken to buying her garters and silk thigh-highs. Expensive, elaborate, almost ostentatious thigh-highs that ranged from simple black, basket-weave patterns to rhinestone-covered prizes that were art in their own right.

Never had she worn the more flamboyant stockings until today. She had worn her winter-white wool suit with her white, Swarovski-crystal-studded thigh-highs and white suede booties with bows. With her short, natural curls tucked back with a white suede handband, she knew she was doing a mean impersonation of a voluptuous snow bunny, and her confidence was sky-high.

Fighting with a husband with a high sex drive meant two things. You reveled in the animalistic fucking that kept each other satisfied, and you reveled in the mind-blowing make-up sex that was sure to follow any conflict. Last night was an example of her and Max having “disagreement sex.”

Bella had been put to bed after an extended visit that evening with Nona, and Fiona was in their en-suite bathroom under a hot, soothing shower after a highly stressful day. The frameless glass shower door curved outward, giving her a clear view of the entire bathroom, including the doorway. There stood Maxwell, filling the doorway in quiet observation, studying her as she washed her breasts and shoulders before slipping her wet, soapy fingers between her softly rounded thighs.

She knew from previous experience that he liked to watch and she liked being watched. She could feel her pussy clench in response to her discovery of him standing there like a predatory specter. She made a show of plucking her nipples and letting water pool between her heavy breasts before releasing them and watching droplets of hot water fall from their peaks. She picked up her loofah and squirted a dollop of lavender-scented soap on it. Turning her back on Max, she bent at the waist and let the loofah glide between her thighs and down her legs to her pedicured toes. She straightened and raised each arm above her head, washing under her arms and over her collarbones. Turning to face her mountain of a husband she raised the soapy loofah over her head and let the suds fall in a swirled pattern down her arms, over her large, darkly hued nipples, and over her rounded stomach. After eyeing him with more than a little defiance, she backed up into the waterfall spray and let it rinse away the fragrant bubbles.

After stepping out of her shower, Fiona grabbed a fluffy white towel and let it hang from her fingertips in Max’s direction. Silently taking the towel, he held it wide, enveloping her in the soft cotton. Gently drying her lavender-scented curves, he spent extra time drying the hills and valleys of her hips and plump ass-cheeks.

He rose abruptly, running his fingers up her spine. As he stood behind her, behind her, his furred chest touched her back, giving off a tangible heat that had nothing to do with the shower steam. He brought the towel around to her front, gently drying the underside of her highly sensitized breasts, teasing each pert nipple mercilessly with the rough cotton. When he finally made a path down her stomach to her now dripping channel, he stopped. Dipping his fingers into her pussy, he scooped her cream onto his fingers and brought it to his lips to suck the valuable juices from his hand.

“That’s not just water from the shower, beautiful. What do we not do when this happens?” he asked in a husky whisper that caressed her ear.

“Waste it,” answered Fiona, meeting Max’s intense stare in the mirror.

“That’s my good girl. Bend over and grab the sink and don’t let go.”

Fiona felt Max place a large hand firmly in the center of her back and hold her down while he traced her spine with his tongue, placing wet, hungry kisses in the small of her back. Groaning in appreciation, Max bit the dramatic, heart-shaped swells of her ass.

Fiona’s mellow hum was interrupted sharply by two firm slaps to her backside. Grasping a cheek in each hand, Max massaged the globes until they warmed like hot, buttery rolls. After one last slap, he dropped to his knees and, keeping her spread like the feast she was, he lapped at her pussy from behind. His five o’clock shadow scraped her sensitive flesh like a million little stings. Her clit had swollen, begging for attention from his talented tongue.

Gripping the edge of the sink like a life preserver, Fiona felt her thighs shake every time Max’s tongue, lips, and chin grazed the sides of her clit. She knew if he decided to pay direct attention to that one spot for more than a second, she would come with a flood that would fulfill even his insatiable appetite for her. He reached underneath her and cupped her hanging breasts, then he tightly pinched each nipple and tugged repeatedly. The fire that ran from her nipples to her core made her clench tight around his searching tongue.

“Fuck, Max, make me come. God, Oh God, please let me come,” she panted, her voice rough and broken.

“Shut up, Fiona,” scolded Max. “I’m tired of your mouth today. You’ll come when I’m ready to finish eating.”

With that, Max returned to circling her clit until a maelstrom of sensations all aligned on that one area and Fiona had backed herself hard against his nose and face. All it took was one firm swipe of his rough-hewn chin against her tender bundle of nerves to make her fall apart on his tongue. The rhythmic squeals of her pleasure, enhanced by the lovely acoustics in the bathroom, seemed to spur Max on even though Fiona didn’t know if she would be able to continue standing.

With animalistic grunts of satisfaction, he devoured all evidence of her release until she sagged against the counter, replete. She opened her eyes and noticed he was stroking his cock in a slow rhythm, wearing only a satisfied smirk.

Pulling her close to his body with a quick tug, he guided her to their bedroom where he sat on the on the end of the bed and slid back so his feet rested on the gold-tufted bedroom bench at the foot of their California king. Lying back on his elbows, he continued to massage the length of his cock. Fiona knew he was silently asking for reciprocation for a job well done in the bathroom. She also knew her mouth was magic on her man’s shaft.

With a supremely confident smirk, similar to the one she’d observed on him in the bathroom, she knelt on the bedroom bench and leaned forward so she came face-to-face with his sculpted abs. Tempted by the trail of hair that ran a path over the unforgiving ridges, she ran her warm tongue down over his belly button and felt his hardness twitch against her breasts. She firmly scraped her nails back and forth over his heavily muscled thighs while she teased the tip of his already leaking, swollen cock with her talented tongue. Then, massaging his warm sacs, she avoided his shaft completely and rolled his sensitive balls in her warm mouth. Shifting her attention, she firmly grasped the base of his shaft and deep-throated her husband, throat-massaging his cock until he curved, at full mast, past his navel, and she finally released him with a pop.

While he was in a temporary euphoria, Fiona straddled him instead of sucking him to completion, as she knew he would expect. Grasping the base, she seated herself heavily, claiming purchase on his chest with her short, manicured nails.

She leaned over to look her husband in the eye. “Buck,” she commanded, before she rose in a slow roll then massaged his massive length all the way back down to the base.

“Christ!” shouted Max as his hands shot up to grasp her hips. She was milking him in anger and frustration, but also with the passion that perpetually simmered under the surface of their day-to-day. There was never a time where they didn’t crave this closeness. She was disappointed, and her feelings were hurt, and she was going to ride it out on him. And he would let her. Eventually they would work out what his actions truly meant, but she was going to let him know with her body what her heart was feeling.

As she sped up her tempo, the rhythmic slapping of her wet pussy on his cock was punctuated only by an occasional grunt of a stallion and the heavy breathing of its rider.

* * *

Max met her thrust for thrust, his teeth clenched, panting wildly, trying to hold off his release. He reached up to bring her face down to his in a wet, almost painful mix of kisses and nips. He ran he hands over her body urgently, trying to get to her clit and help her finish with him. Furiously massaging the swollen tissue of her pussy, he tapped her sensitive nubbin and began a rocking climax that had Fiona grinding her clit on him like a desperate animal and screaming his name.

As he got closer, he clenched his teeth and grasped one of her hips and the nape of her neck and brought her lips closer, crashing them down on his. He poured all his love and passion for this one woman into one kiss, while bracing his feet on the bed and finally bucking like the wild stallion she wanted him to be. She rode him with a vengeance, her sheath still clutching his shaft and milking him for all the essence he could give her.

And empty into her he did. His warmth bathed her insides, and he could feel her body relax, like he had been given a reprieve and tomorrow would be another day.

* * *

Well, today is going to be one big shit show
, thought Max as he watched his wife have an animated discussion with Bill Macy in the conference room regarding CompuFire. Her conservative, stark-white suit successfully emphasized that her legs glittered like new-fallen snow. Her brown eyes sparkled with merriment as she explained some amusing point to Bill while crossing and uncrossing her legs.

Maxwell wasn’t sure if she knew this, but she could have been reciting Hamlet to Bill and Macy would’ve continued to nod and smile while he stared at the mile of leg she was showing off to her best advantage. Max was tempted to barge in and tell him to keep his view at eye-level or he could find another company to do marketing for, but he knew that would only make it worse with Fiona. He’d asked her to get Bill up to speed, and she was doing as she was asked.

Despite the fact that she thought his decision was a personal affront, despite the fact that she believed her integrity was in question, she was still trusting her husband wouldn’t be a complete jackass and would hopefully come to his senses. His heart swelled for her a little more knowing she was still trying to have a little faith in him.

Too bad she hadn’t spoken one word to him on the ride to work and had made it a point to march her sexy ass in front of him multiple times this morning wearing the white garter with crystal accents, lace bustier, and matching stockings. He was going on three hours with a semi, and he was going to be forced to take care of business in his office bathroom if his beloved wasn’t going to stay out of his field of vision.

With that thought, he returned to his office and, with a resounding click, shut his door.

“Fi, you can’t keep this up! We have to talk sometime. Please, just trust me—this is all just a misunderstanding,” cajoled Max, as he smoothly switched gears in his Audi R8 Spyder. “Just be patient with me. You’ll see that this change in workload is a good idea. It has nothing to do with your skills or competencies—just your well-being and good time management.”
One more day, darling, one more day.

Fiona turned in her seat to face Max.

“Husband, this ever-obedient wife would like to thank you for complimenting me on my abilities at work and then insulting my common sense and sense of self-preservation. This ever-obedient wife would surely work her fingers to the bone to the detriment of herself, her husband, and her child without your guiding hand to steer her clear of disaster. I don’t know how I made it to thirty-seven without you.”

Turning back to watch the trees go by, Fiona folded her arms under her breasts, essentially dismissing Max’s entreaty for patience. Max was utterly insulted that she would even think he could see her in that demeaning light. She was his partner, his rock, and after years of being together she should know that with concrete certainty. He was suddenly furious at her condescension when he was clearly trying to ask for patience. He’d spent eleven months preparing this present for her only to have her faith him rocked by a simple ploy to free up her schedule. Where had his perfect Christmas gone wrong?

As he pulled into their circular driveway he turned to Fiona, defeated and frustrated. He wasn’t going to give away the plan, but he would let her know all was going to be right as rain tomorrow.

“Tomorrow, dammit. Tomorrow you will have an explanation. Is that acceptable? Can we talk now without you throwing daggers out of your eyes at me?”

“So there
is
another reason why the account was taken from me, and you choose
now
to tell me. Oh, and apparently it’s also all right to keep secrets from me on top of slighting me.” Fiona flung open the door to the car and slid out, without Max’s assistance. Leaning in the doorway, she said the last thing Max heard from her lips for the next twelve hours. “Maxwell Santino, I would rather chew glass than be in the same bedroom with you. If you step foot in our bedroom tonight, I’m taking Bella, and we are spending Christmas with Mama in New Orleans. I will take my own car to work tomorrow!”

Maxwell didn’t think he’d ever seen his wife flounce before, but sure enough, she huffed and puffed and flounced her bountiful ass all the way into the house, slamming the door behind her.

He couldn’t help but let his head fall on the steering wheel and be amazed at the debacle that was his marriage right now.
Just
because of a Christmas present
. There went the rule of no separate bedroom and readily available sex. Now he knew how the other half lived. He should have just bought jewelry like his father suggested. But no, he was Mr. Go Big or Go Home. Bowing his head, he did as he’d always done when didn’t know what to do—he prayed for guidance.

Dear Heavenly Father, please let my words and actions be of comfort to my wife tonight. I will give in and tell her about the surprise if it will ease her mind. Can we hold on one more day without this causing us permanent damage? Thy will be done. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.

Maxwell’s phone began to buzz in the middle console, and he picked it up. His voice brusque and impatient, he said, “Santino.”

Mike Johnson, the man who helped design and construct Maxwell’s five bedroom, four bath home five years ago, answered with efficiency.

“Max, everything is going as planned. She’ll be ready per your specs by noon tomorrow,” informed Mike. “Oh, and tell the Mrs. I said hello and thank her for the Christmas card and the generous gift. My wife jokes that building your house is the gift that keeps on giving. You got a real loyal one in that lady. She has a huge heart.”

Max leaned back and let loose a sigh of relief. He’d never expected to hear the answer to his prayers from his contractor, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks, Mike. You just made my Christmas a lot more merry. I appreciate all the work you and the boys have done this year. We still on for drinks after the holidays?”

“’Course. I wanna hear about the Mrs.’s reaction as soon as you get back,” Mike replied jovially.

“Will do. Merry Christmas,” Max said with a smile on his face. His holidays were looking up.