Free A Thigh Hih Christmas by Tiffany Monique Page B

nod, she pivoted on her red-bottomed, patent leather pumps and walked toward his office door. Then, as an afterthought, she glanced over her shoulder and with her full lips curved into a humorless smirk she let the other shoe drop.
    “Now that I think of it, Arabella and I will be visiting Nona Santino tonight for some well-deserved granddaughter-and-grandmother time. I suggest you call Bill or Jonas if you desire company this evening. I have a feeling we will be out rather late. Unless, of course, you question my capabilities as Bella’s mother also. Then, by all means, let me know what is in my best interest.”
    * * *
    Max had sincerely thought his plan was sound. More free time, a less stressful workload, and, more importantly, making his queen available for his rather extravagant Christmas surprise. He’d had no idea she would take it as a personal attack on her character. He slammed his hand on his desk and swung around in his office chair so he was facing the Boston skyline. He had two more days until he was supposed to spring his surprise on her, but until then he had to be hush-hush, even if it meant being the focus of her ire for forty-eight hours. When you plan a present for eleven months, it’s worth a few takeout dinners and snide remarks to get to the end game. He was nothing if not a focused individual. He could do this. Her expression would be priceless.

Last Tuesday
     
     
    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