Page 73 of Musical Games
‘Jamie, you’re so bloody big.’
‘Kids! Come on, it’s time to go!’ Morag yelled up the stairs.
‘Fuck’s sake!’ he growled.
‘What was that, love?’
Sam released him and went to the door. ‘Nothing, Morag. We’re just coming.’
He stared at her. ‘Are we?’
Sam giggled again. ‘Well, maybe later?’
The great hallin Kinloch Castle was packed and buzzing. The band had already set up at one end and the bar staff were rushed off their feet at the other. Jamie stuck to Sam like glue, his hand itching to reach out to hers. She was alive with excitement, smiling and chatting with everyone. It couldn’t be clearer how different they were. This was his turf, yet she was playing on it like a pro whilst he stood on the sidelines.
Fiona thrust a glass of whisky in his hand. ‘Cheer up, Jamie. Might never happen.’
‘It already did.’
He drained the glass and Fiona took it from him.
‘It’s not over till the fat lady sings.’
He stared at her. ‘You’re full of it tonight.’
She grinned. ‘It’s going to be okay. I promise.’ She glanced past him and pulled a face. ‘Don’t look now, but I think Kirsten wants another crack.’
He shuddered as he felt a cool hand on his arm.
‘Hey, Jamie.’
Before he could turn around, warm fingers interlaced with his, tugging him away.
‘Come along, darling,’ said Sam. ‘There’s someone you justhaveto meet.’
She dragged him through the crowds with the determination of a honey badger. His heart turned over and he smiled. He was being rescued by the princess. She pulled him out of the hall and down the corridor.
‘Where are we going?’
‘No idea.’
She kept her hand wedded to his as she pushed open doors and looked in. The corridors were getting narrower, the ceilings lower and he had to duck his head.
‘Aha. This will have to do.’
She dragged him inside a room and closed the door, turning a big iron key in the lock. He only had a second to realise they were in an old storeroom before she grabbed him, her mouth finding his, her kisses hot and hungry. He wrapped his arms around her, groaning as his tongue met hers.
Finally.
Her touch was fire, scorching through him, turning everything to light, heat and need. He squeezed her bottom tighter as she ground against his cock, threading his fingers through her glorious hair.
He sucked down her neck as she mewled in his arms, stretching back, opening her body up to him. He glanced hazily over her shoulder and lifted her up, carrying her to an old wooden desk. He shuffled off his jacket and placed it over the top as she tugged to undo the buttons of his shirt. He sat her on the desk, cradling her head, his kisses deep as she worked his shirt open and he dropped it to the floor. His cock jerked painfully as she raked her nails down his chest. She grasped his length through the kilt and he cried out, pulling away, his hands gripping the side of the desk, the muscles of his arms strained to breaking point, his eyes tightly closed.
‘Fuck!’
He opened his eyes to see Sam pull a condom out of the top of her dress.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she giggled.
