The Engagement Gift(8)

“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 dirtiest 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?”