He kissed my forehead, relief and desire in his tone. “I will, baby. I will.”
Some things in life were hard. Getting over the loss of someone you loved. Making a half-court shot in basketball. And winning a case when the evidence was overwhelmingly against your client.
And some were easy.
Pulling your best friend aside in the casino at the Luxe. Asking him to play a round of slots. Feeding the machine some tokens and asking, “How would you feel about a threesome with Lily and me?”
It didn’t feel awkward. Honestly, it was like a weight had lifted. I could finally say what she wanted. Finally put the plans into place to give it to her. It was freeing, in a way.
He shot me a look like I was crazy. “Dude, I am not touching you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously. There will be no sword crossing, accidental or purposeful.”
“Amen to that.”
“But I’m serious, man,” I said, dropping the ribbing. “This is what she wants. I want to give her everything.”
He didn’t say anything right away. “You do.”
It was a statement, not a question. But I answered it anyway. “Yeah, I do. That’s my goal.”
“And she wants this? She wants a threesome?”
I nodded, feeling no shame in sharing this. “She does, and it isn’t about me. It’s about her. The point is to worship her. To give her a fantasy. The focus would be on her and only her. To make her feel like a queen getting serviced by two kings in the bedroom.”
He scratched his jaw, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “Let me make sure I’m understanding this correctly. You’re asking me to join you and your fiancée in a devil’s threesome.” He made a hook ’em sign with his hand like he was at an 80s rock concert.
“Yes,” I said with a laugh. Then I stopped laughing. “I am asking you that. Never thought our friendship would come to this but that’s how it goes. This is what the woman wants. Both of us,” I said, and maybe I should have been processing this more, absorbing the enormity of what I was asking.
But then, I’d been processing this possibility for some time.
I’d been ready for it for a long while.
Because she wanted it.
His eyes locked with mine. “And that means you want me to fuck your fiancée?” he asked, deliberately blunt, I could tell. Putting it in no uncertain terms.
When he worded it that way, I bristled. I clenched my jaw. Jealousy flamed in me, but then seconds later, it died down. I was possessive of Lily, but what I wanted all to myself was what I knew I had—her heart, her soul.
They were never in question, so I didn’t need to be jealous.
And I wanted her to have all her dirty desires come true.
“She wants us both at the same time,” I said, making it clear how it would go down. “Which means the next question is this: do you want her?”
He laughed like I’d said the dumbest thing. “You’re marrying a babe. She’s also an amazing person. If she wants this, I’d much rather you ask me than find someone online.”
I shuddered at that thought. “No effing way.”
Jake laughed, amused it seemed. “Can you even imagine? The replies you’d get.”
I cringed. “Yeah, let’s maybe not think about that.”
“They’d be the worst. You’d get some serious freaks trying to take you up on that.”
“Instead, I’m asking my friend the freak,” I said, then I squared my shoulders, and swallowed. I waited. I had to be patient. He hadn’t given me a yes yet. Maybe he was still processing what this might mean for our friendship, or for his friendship with Lily. Hell, I’d contemplated all that too. But I had the faith the three of us were rock solid in every way. Would Jake feel the same?
He took a breath. Stared off in the distance at the card tables, maybe considering his fictional future as a card shark. Or maybe he was weighing the odds. What were the stakes of this proposition? To me, the stakes were clear, and this was a bet worth taking.
But would he feel that way?
He returned his gaze to me, his expression serious. “It’s good you didn’t look online. It’s definitely good you’re not hunting on some app. Truth be told, if you’d done this with a stranger, I think I’d be really offended.” One more deep breath, then a crooked grin. “So I suppose now that you’ve offered, you’re stuck with me and my ten-inch rod. But she definitely wants it?”
I rolled my eyes, scoffing. “Your wiener is not ten inches. More like ten millimeters.”
“Have you measured it?”
“No, and I never will, but I’m confident it’s not ten inches.” I took a beat. “And to answer your other question, yes, she does.”