The Engagement Gift

by Lauren Blakely

  He’d been there for me when I didn’t even realize I needed someone, the friend who’d insisted I get my shit together when he saw I was about to snap.

  A few years ago, he’d found me in the office at two in the morning yet again, draining another pot of coffee, obsessing over another case.

  Hands parked on hips, he’d shaken his head and said, Finn, it’s time to deal with all the shit you’re not facing.

  That was all he’d said.

  Well, he’d said a few more things as he’d turned off my computer and dragged me out of the office. Like You’re a miserable fuck. It’s understandable, but it’s time to face the music.

  I’d gotten my act together, gone to group therapy, and finally worked through the shit from losing my brother.

  Boom. Then I met Lily. I fell so goddamn hard I still had bruises on my ass.

  Hypothetically.

  Point being, I didn’t fall in love till I had dealt with the grief. And when I fell, I fell all the way into the deep end, no turning back. It was like I was finally able to access my heart again, my emotions, and hell, it was incredible to be able to do so, and even better to give them to her.

  To someone who cherished what I had to offer. Who valued and honored it. Who understood who I was, and who I wanted to be.

  Was I obsessed with pleasing her?

  Yeah, I was.

  So sue me.

  But this particular fantasy she had? The one she seemed to only tell Google and Tumblr?

  I was obsessed with that, too. Because I didn’t want my woman to go unfulfilled. I didn’t want her to feel deprived of a single thing. Besides, my job was to be better than Google and Tumblr. To deliver the real thing to her.

  But where the fuck would I find a willing participant who wasn’t a freak? Who Lily would want?

  It wasn’t like I was going to get on Craigslist or post an ad on Tinder. Wait, did Tinder even have ads for seeking a third person?

  Those questions raced through my head as we played basketball and I missed shot after shot. When we finished, Jake smacked my shoulder. “Destroyed you.”

  Hmm. Seems he did.

  “Must be a blue moon,” I joked.

  He flipped me the bird. “Admit it—you suck at literally everything.”

  “I am awesome at everything. Except, admittedly, today’s game.” I held up a finger. “But in my defense, my mind was elsewhere.”

  He mirrored me, holding up a finger in mockery. “There’s no asterisk that says he was distracted when we’re keeping score. Besides, what could be on your mind other than this game?”

  I shrugged and smiled. “What can I say? My mind was on Lily.”

  Jake smirked. “Well, that’s understandable. You’re probably going to go home and fuck like bunnies all night. It’s a wonder you make it into work at all.”

  I flashed him an evil grin. “You’re right. It is one of the eight wonders of the modern world. And speaking of our record, this weekend I’ll be accepting my award for excellence in stamina and endless pleasure delivery at the Men’s Conference of Gods in Bed.”

  “Asshole,” he muttered.

  I clapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a woman for you soon.”

  Jake met his last girlfriend online, and she’d seemed perfect. At first, Debbie had wanted to take it slow. But after three months, she’d demanded he put a ring on it. He wasn’t ready, so he’d asked if they could see where things went. Debbie had declared no, since her clock was ticking.

  That was that, and since then he’d been taking a break from the apps.

  “In the meantime, just tell me your stories and I’ll live vicariously,” Jake said.

  “Pervert. But if I told you—and I won’t—I’d have plenty, because this weekend I plan to spend every waking second pleasuring my woman.”

  For that, I earned the double bird.

  I laughed. “Sorry, not sorry.”

  “Yeah, you better not be sorry. Every man is jealous of you.”

  I tilted my head, curious. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shot me a look like it was as obvious as tomato sauce on a new dress shirt. “Have you seen your fiancée? She’s fucking beautiful. I don’t know why she fell for your ugly ass. And somehow, she tolerates you, too. You better not be dumb enough to ever let go of her.”

  That’s when the heavens parted and the filthy angels clanged their cymbals against my head, calling out, You fucking idiot. The answer is right in front of you.

  Because angels swore, right?

  The answer was under my nose.

  If I was going to try to give Lily her fantasy, she wouldn’t want a threesome with a stranger. She’d want someone she could trust. She was a private woman, and naturally, she’d want a third person who’d keep the secret of her desires. She trusted Jake. She trusted my friendship with him. She knew the man would go to the ends of the earth for me.

  And Jake? He was a good contender. No strings attached to anyone else.

  Clearly, he thought Lily was hot. No surprise there.

  Not to mention he was a kinky bastard. Hell, he was an everything bastard. The man once said he was an omnivore when it came to women.

  But I’d have to find a way to broach it with Lily first.

  So I’d bring up the idea in a setting with the right lubricant.

  The toy shop.

  * * *

  That night, I took her shopping. As we walked into our regular store, she glanced toward the register, where a dark-haired guy worked behind the counter.

  “I didn’t know Penn Badgley worked at Eden,” she joked.

  “Got a little celebrity crush?” I asked.

  “Aww,” she said with a that’s so sweet grin. “You know who Penn Badgley is. Just admit it now—you’re a closet Gossip Girl fan.”

  “Smartass,” I said, smacking her rear for her impudence. “I’ve seen You on Netflix, and I also saw Horrible Bosses. So there. No need for Gossip Girl.”

  She tilted her head. “He wasn’t in Horrible Bosses.”

  “That is true, but Jennifer Aniston’s character invoked his name when she said”—I cleared my throat and tried on a feminine voice—“I fingered myself so hard to that Penn Badgley guy, I broke a nail.’”

  Lily shot me a naughty grin, laughing. “Jennifer Aniston’s character has good taste.”

  If I were a jealous guy, I’d say something like, As long as you don’t finger yourself to fantasies of the guy at the register, we’re all good. Instead, I said, “Feel free to break a nail later while you fuck yourself in front of me.”

  Her shoulders straightened, and she snapped her gaze to me, like I’d shocked her. “You’re such a bad boy.”

  I brushed my lips against her neck, whispering in her ear, “And you love it.”

  She shivered. “I absolutely do.”

  As we strolled through the shelves of vibrators, she grabbed a blue dolphin and pretended it was a mic, adopting an infomercial tone. “And now, may we present the dolphin. Twelve speeds, fluttering nose, and when you use it, you’ll come, singing its praises under the sea.”

  A grin tugged at my lips as I handed her a butterfly, ready for her comedy routine. “Why don’t you tell us about this guy?” I asked like a TV host.

  She went all theatrical, arms waving, voice sophisticated. “Put this on and you’ll transform.”

  Reaching for a silver bullet, I placed the device in her palm, ready for her report. “And now, Lily, please tell the audience at home, what does this little number do?”

  She held it up to the light as if studying the sleek pleasure machine. Lily cleared her throat and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Horny at the office?” she asked. “Slip this little magic pill under your skirt and ease that ache.”

  Cracking up, I yanked her to where a rack of devil and angel costumes hid us from the register, pulled her to me, and claimed her mouth in a hot, quick kiss. “Do you know that I’m going to have both the funniest and dirt
iest wife?”

  She lifted her chin, pouted her lips. “I’m sure that’s what you dreamed of as a kid.”

  “Ha. Let’s hope not. But it’s definitely perfect for me now. You’re perfect for me now and forever.” I slid a hand around her ass.

  She wiggled against my hand, and I couldn’t resist. I inched my fingers under her skirt. God bless skirts and her commitment to wearing them nearly every day. Access was one of my guilty pleasures with her, except I never felt guilty about pleasure. Not when I could graze my fingers against her upper thighs.

  “Finn,” she chided, “we’re in public.”

  “As if that has stopped you before.” My hand inched higher, my fingers on a fast track for the firm swell of her cheeks. I pinched, and she groaned quietly, squirming against my palm. “You’re such an ass man.”

  “No. I’m an everything man with you,” I said, licking her neck, tasting her skin. “Love your pussy, love your ass, love your tits, love your mouth.”

  She shuddered as my fingers explored farther, grazing the panel of her panties. Fuck. She was already damp. This could work.

  “And you love everything, too,” I added.

  “You know I do,” she murmured. “Love that filthy mouth of yours most of all. Love the way you tell me how you want me.”

  “You want it here, don’t you? Right in this store?”

  Her eyes said yes. “I do.”

  “I could take you into the dressing room and fuck you with my fingers,” I said, trying to set the stage for where I wanted this scene to go.

  Her eyes darted around the store. Mostly empty. The Penn Badgley lookalike was ringing someone up. This was perfect timing.

  “Can you be fast?” she whispered.

  I squeezed her ass hard. “Can you be fast? That’s the question.”

  “I promise.”

  I narrowed my eyes, issuing a command. “You’ve got three minutes to come, or I’ll stop. Got it?”

  Trembling, Lily nodded her yes, grabbed a devil costume, and went straight to the dressing room. Seconds later, I followed her there, closing the half door. It was like a bathroom stall—anyone who walked past could tell there were two people in here.

  Even better.

  She liked the thrill that she might be seen.

  My hand was up her skirt in seconds flat. My fingers glided inside her panties, then in her pussy. She was soaked, and my dick jumped to iron-spike level. I dipped my head to her ear, whispering, “Be quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

  She swiveled her hips, grinding shamelessly down against my fingers. “I don’t,” she whispered, “but what if we get caught?”

  She gushed as she asked the question. She loved the idea of being caught.

  Lust tore through my body as I fucked her with my fingers, crooking them inside her. “Or what if someone watched?”

  She gasped, her lips forming an O, her eyes widening.

  Yes, now we were getting somewhere.

  I kept going, heading down this path. “What if Penn Badgley walked by?”

  She bit down on her bottom lip, as if fighting like hell not to cry out. But a broken gust of pleasure seemed to cross her lips. And her hips, dear God, her sexy hips were grinding and rocking against my hand.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked.

  She nodded, murmuring a shuddery, “Yes.”

  “What if he stopped, opened the door, and saw how hard you like to be fucked with my fingers?”

  She trembled, her hips going wild, bucking.

  “Bet my dirty girl would like to show him how hard she comes, let him hear how loud she is.”

  She groaned louder, and I slammed my free hand against her mouth, covering her. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  A nod against my palm was her answer.

  “You’d be so goddamn loud,” I whispered. “He’d know you like it in public. He’d know you like it every way I give it to you.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. Her expression tightened. That look of approaching bliss spread across her face.

  Now was my chance to push, to find out. “Bet you’d even like it if he wanted to fuck you too.”

  She tensed all over, stilled for a long, terrifying moment. Had I gone too far? Suggested too much?

  But then she was shaking, falling apart on my hand here in the store with the celebrity lookalike no more than twenty feet away.

  I hadn’t gone too far at all.

  Her skin was flushed, the sexiest shade of pink I’d ever seen.

  When she opened her eyes and I slid my fingers out of her, she trembled, grabbed my arm like she’d fall if she didn’t hold on to me, and simply whispered, “Wow.”

  “You liked that, didn’t you?”

  She licked her lips. “Do you really have to ask?”

  I raised my hand, wiggled my fingers in front of my face, and sucked her juices off, savoring the taste of her orgasm.

  * * *

  We bought the silver bullet, the devil costume, and a new dolphin, too, since she said hers was losing power.

  In the parking lot, I opened the door for her, then stopped her with a hand on her waist.

  I met her eyes. “You know, with me, you can have anything?”

  “I can?” Her voice rose higher than usual, nerves lining it.

  “Yes,” I said emphatically. “All you have to do is ask.”

  She didn’t ask for her dirty internet fantasy.

  Instead, she said, “Can you take me to the club? The one where I told you all my fantasies?”

  Everything was coming together.

  * * *

  But not that night.

  She had an early morning interview with the Yankees general manager via remote, so we agreed to go Thursday night.

  By the time Thursday came around, our group of friends had asked what we were up to, and Lily and I turned the night at Edge into a group event, as we often did.

  Jake and Kate and Nina and Adam, and plenty of others would join us.

  We’d all go.

  And that might be just what the dirty doctor ordered.

  5

  Lily

  On Thursday afternoon, my phone pinged with a text.

  I tore my focus away from the research I was doing for my upcoming conference session this weekend to read the note.

  Finn: Tonight, wear something insanely sexy that’ll make me hard all night long.

  Finn: Wait. That’s you in anything and everything.

  Finn: Because I fucking love you, and I love fucking you.

  The club.

  The last place I’d voiced all my dirty dreams. It had been my idea, my suggestion. The vibe, the music, the feel—it seemed to set me free.

  Could I do it tonight? Say it? Reveal the next level in my after-dark fantasies?

  A knot of worry tightened in me, but right alongside that I felt . . . possibility.

  I wrote back.

  Lily: Will you wear your sexy lawyer costume? Because I love seeing you in a suit and tie. Men in ties are hot, but you in a tie is the hottest.

  I sent the note, picturing tonight, hearing his words. You know, with me, you can have anything . . . all you have to do is ask.

  The other night at the sex-toy shop had been a revelation.

  We’d never gone that far, never pushed those limits to include others. Real people. All our other games had been made-up; all the other people we pretended had seen us were unknown.

  True, I didn’t know the clerk’s name, but he was flesh and blood and all man. He’d been twenty feet away while I went flying off the cliff, Finn’s fingers deep inside me.

  But what shocked me most was Finn. He’d started it. He’d brought the man at the register into our sex game. He was skating so close to what I’d entertained only in my head.

  Bet you’d even like it if he wanted to fuck you too.

  Those words from him had detonated me. But they’d seemed to unleash him, too. When we went home that night, we hadn�
�t even made it through the door. He’d fucked me in the car in the parking garage of our building, my wrists pinned over my head, my legs wrapped around his waist.

  He’d been ravenous and harder than I’d ever felt him before. As if he was just as aroused, just as turned on as I was.

  But still, that was only pretend. Simply another aspect of our role-playing.

  That didn’t mean we had to act on it.

  Or maybe, just maybe, it did.

  * * *

  I absentmindedly kicked one high-heeled foot back and forth, waiting for Kate in a bar at the Luxe Hotel, a gin in my hand.

  I wore a little black dress.

  Because that was what fantasies were for.

  Little black dresses.

  We’d meet Finn at the club, and our friends were coming tonight, too—we operated as a pack.

  Kate arrived at the bar, looking fabulous in black strappy sandals, designer jeans, and a silver top.

  I gave her an approving whistle. “Sexy babe. You should take the best man home tonight.” I couldn’t resist trying to push them together. That was what friends did—tried to set up their single friends.

  She groaned like she couldn’t take it anymore as she flopped next to me. “Don’t you think if it were going to happen, it would have happened?”

  I scoffed. “Things happen when we’re ready for them.”

  She set a hand on my elbow, her hazel eyes locking with mine. “Let me level with you. Nothing is going to happen with Jake and me.”

  I pouted. “Why not?”

  She heaved a sigh. “Lily, do I need to spell this out?”

  “Um, maybe you do.”

  She laughed. “I’m. Not. Attracted. To. Him.”

  My jaw came unhinged, then I set the back of my hand on her forehead. “Yes, you do have the flu.”

  “Natch, I’m terribly ill for not being into Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.”

  “Aha!” I pointed at her like I’d caught her in a web of lies. “So, you do admit he’s good-looking.”

  “Just because I can recognize he’s extremely good-looking doesn’t make him my type.” She nudged my waist with her elbow, her voice dipping. “But maybe he’s your type.”

  My brow creased. “What?”