The After Dark Collection: Books 1-3 in The Gift Series

by Blakely, Lauren

  15

  Kate

  It was an excellent question, even if I was still figuring out my own kink.

  Did I get off on others getting it on, even if I wasn’t there?

  Maybe I did.

  I’d always been intrigued with what other people liked to do behind closed doors. And maybe I was fascinated by the games people play in the bedroom. By the ways adults wanted to explore their after dark sides. That captivated me, and I wanted to uncover more, know more, learn more.

  But that’s not why I fashioned myself into a naughty matchmaker.

  I did it because what were best friends for but to help you in your time of need, to shop for dresses, and to subtly guide you to the threesome of your heart’s desire?

  I knew what Lily wanted, so I’d planted the idea of Jake in her head—Jake, because I knew he’d be game.

  How did I know?

  Call it instinct. Call it a gut feeling. Jake was a friend, and I’d been well aware of his appetite in the bedroom.

  All I had to do was drop his name as the necessary third party, and Lily was game.

  I wanted Lily to be happy. She deserved it, and Lord knew the woman was going to be driven mad by her obsession till she chased it down. So I did what a friend would do. A nudge here. A nudge there. Everyone enjoyed their night.

  But now, here I was, enjoying eggs and hash browns and the post-game satisfaction of having called it from a mile away, and looking at Jake in a new light.

  Was that part of my kink? Was he?

  Perhaps he could be.

  I couldn’t deny that a part of me was damn curious what Jake was like in bed.

  More than I’d been before.

  I hadn’t lied when I’d told Lily I wasn’t attracted to Jake. I never had been. I didn’t gaze longingly at him from afar, nor did I stalk his photos on social media. He wasn’t in the cards, but that was more that I’d never thought of him like that before, even though Lily had suggested him to me in the dress shop. Maybe I hadn’t let myself think of him that way since I’d always had a hunch he’d be the perfect party for Lily’s fantasy. I didn’t want to stand in the way of her pleasure. What kind of friend would do that? Not this one.

  I’d kept any interest in him at arm’s length, because I knew he’d be the right man for Lily’s fantasy.

  But now her fantasy had played out.

  It was over and done.

  And perhaps that’s why I was checking out the man. Noting the cut of his jaw, the shape of his lips, the roughness of his stubble.

  There was something about him.

  Perhaps something I hadn’t seen before.

  And now, here at breakfast, I was trying to figure out what I was suddenly feeling for him.

  It sure felt like attraction. A stirring, potent attraction to the tall, dark, and handsome man across the table.

  That was new. Wholly new.

  And I liked it. It heated me up. It made my skin tingle. It made me ponder all sorts of possibilities.

  Biding my time, I picked up my glass of water, took a drink, and set it down. “We all have different fantasies,” I said.

  His eyes held mine for a long beat. Longer than they had before. In them, I felt heat and I saw intrigue.

  “I’d like to find out yours,” he said.

  Funny, because I didn’t mind that idea.

  Didn’t mind it one bit.

  16

  Lily

  The next morning I showered in the hotel with Finn, savoring the feel of the water sluicing down my body. And savoring the feel of him too.

  But more so, what I delighted in was both what we were and what we weren’t.

  We were the same.

  But we were also better.

  “What do you want to do when your conference ends?” he asked as he shampooed my hair.

  “Mini golf? Or maybe pool?”

  “You’re only picking those because you’re so good at them, and you want to beat me.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”

  He winked. “Baby, I’m always competitive.”

  He was when it came to work, but he also wasn’t. A competitive man wouldn’t have let another in the bedroom. “I call BS on that,” I said.

  He arched a brow. “Is that so?”

  I rinsed my hair. “I don’t think you were competitive last night.”

  He hummed, as if considering, and when I raised my face from the water, he said, “Because I don’t have to compete for you. I have you, and all I want is to keep making you happy. Even if that means letting you beat me at pool.”

  I swatted him. “I win fair and square.”

  “We shall see.”

  When we dried off and dressed, he walked me downstairs to where the conference would be held, then he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Go get ’em today, tiger. You’re the best sports reporter the network has ever known.”

  From last night to today, I was me.

  I was doing it all. Having it all.

  I went to work. And I didn’t feel like I had a split personality at all.

  Not anymore.

  I was no longer ravaged by my imagination. I wasn’t torn up over whether I was good or bad.

  I was good. I was all good. And I was good to myself.

  I walked on stage, and introduced the panelists during the

  Negotiation Skills session. I zoomed right into business mode, talking about Haven’s performance in the Olympic Games when she’d won her gold.

  “That has to help when you’re negotiating,” I said. “The fact that you know what it’s like in the heat of the moment, to have everything on the line.”

  Haven nodded crisply. “I do think it helps, and I would urge anyone considering a career in sports marketing to do some research to truly understand the mind of an athlete.”

  “That’s a great point.” I turned to Josh, asking him a brand new question. “Now, Josh, how do you get into the mind of the athlete when you’re negotiating for them?”

  “That’s honestly not my goal, Lily. My goal is to make it work for all parties,” he said, and I tried to rein in a grin. Mostly I succeeded. But a part of me was patting myself on the back for this.

  Because here I was.

  Finn and I weren’t just the same. We were better.

  And this—my work—this incredibly vital part of my life and my identity still clicked.

  This was the proof. I’d come out on the other side still me.

  Only better.

  “Good point. You always want to try to find common ground,” I said, seconding him, thinking too that common ground was often key.

  In business. In friendship. In love. In the bedroom.

  That was the goal.

  And as these two top agents answered the rest of my questions, I kept thinking they had common ground.

  And the ground was hot.

  Because the enemies to lovers vibe they had felt scorching.

  So scorching that when the session ended, and I thanked him, I pulled Haven aside after Josh left.

  “You go girl,” I said.

  She arched a brow. “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged playfully. “You two have some kind of energy.”

  She waved a hand. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

  I simply smiled. She’d figure it out sooner or later.

  Sooner, I hoped as I said goodbye and headed home, delighting in the day I’d had, and looking ahead to another night of pleasure.

  That’s what the nights with Finn were, and we had so many in front of us.

  I was a lucky woman indeed.

  Epilogue

  Lily

  Some things you just knew at first blush.

  When you’ve met the right man.

  When you’ve found the perfect dress.

  And when you were the happiest you’d ever been.

  As I walked down the aisle in a white, V-neck sheath gown, I was incandescently happy.

  I
was marrying the man I adored, the man who gave me everything and then more.

  All my friends were there, and both my maid of honor, Kate, and my bridesmaid, Nina, looked radiant.

  My wedding dress, I’d purchased myself, all too happy to plunk down the cash as I remembered Kate’s words in the shop. This dress is on me if Finn doesn’t say yes when you ask him . . .

  I was glad she was right. I was thrilled she’d pushed me along and subtly, or maybe not so subtly, encouraged me to go after my dreams.

  My dirty, naughty dreams.

  And they’d all come true.

  She was indeed a fantastic best friend.

  I had everything I’d ever wanted.

  I hoped my friends would find their happy-ever-afters, too, in and out of the bedroom.

  As I spotted Adam staring at Nina, I wondered briefly if hers was right in front of her.

  I smiled inside, since I’d always suspected the two of them might be perfect together. The virgin and the guy next door.

  And I had a feeling I was going to be right about something else. Call me crazy, but as I said my I dos, I caught a knowing glance between the best man and the maid of honor.

  Maybe Kate was attracted to him after all.

  Well, she had good taste.

  I put thoughts of them aside, though, as I kissed my husband and stepped into what I knew would be a lifetime of dirty, wedded bliss.

  A little later

  When we went to Wimbledon later that year, I bumped into Haven and Josh again.

  “Hey, Lily!” Haven called to me. “Long time no see.”

  I flashed a smile. “Hey! Good to see you again,” I said, then turned to the gorgeous man by my side. “This is my husband, Finn Nichols.”

  I introduced them to the love of my life and we all shook hands. Finn knew I’d moderated the panel with them the day after our special night, and that’s why I couldn’t resist grinning when he said to the two of them, “Pleasure to meet you all. I heard you were in our hometown earlier this year, and you set the conference on fire.”

  “Sparks were indeed flying,” Haven said, then waggled a ring. “And look what happened. He just proposed.”

  “Congratulations,” Finn said, beaming. “Glad to see the sparks turned into the good kind of fire.”

  “Let me see that beauty,” I said, then oohed and aahed over Haven’s ring before I met her eyes, with a naughty glint in mine, I was sure. “And now you should ask him to give you an extra special engagement gift.”

  “Oh, should I?” Haven’s eyebrows rose.

  “Yes. Just ask him for your deepest fantasy,” I said.

  Finn chuckled. “And I’m sure he’ll give it to you.”

  He draped a possessive arm around me.

  He’d given me my fantasy.

  My secret.

  My naughtiest wish.

  And something more.

  He’d given me the keys to myself.

  I was the woman I’d always wanted to be—heart, mind, body and soul.

  After they left, I turned to Finn. “You are the gift. Always.”

  Then I kissed my husband at Wimbledon, thrilling at all that we were.

  And all we would be together.

  Nina and Adam’s story unfolds in THE VIRGIN GIFT, and readers can unwrap Kate and Jake’s tale in THE DECADENT GIFT.

  Sign up for my VIP After Dark mailing list here!

  Volume Two

  About

  I might still carry my V-card, but I know exactly what I want in a man. Smart, charming and oh-so-skilled. Too bad I haven't found him yet.

  But maybe he's found me.

  Because when my charming, laid-back, next-door neighbor discovers a secret list I keep, he volunteers to work through every single item on it. .

  Including the last one -- at the end, we walk away and stay friends.

  I say yes to his offer, and that's when I discover another side to him.

  A side I adore. A side I crave. He's commanding, intense, and everything I've ever wanted.

  But as we check things off one by one, I find myself breaking the most important rule of all. And I have no idea what it will do to my heart.

  The Virgin Gift

  Want to be the first to learn of sales, new releases, preorders and special freebies? Sign up for my VIP mailing list here! This will ensure that you’re the first to know when new After Dark books go live at special release day prices!

  1

  Nina

  From my vantage point, I saw it all.

  I watched the prelude to every fantasy unfold. I witnessed women luxuriating in their bodies and men wrapping their arms around them—lovers poised with coiled tension, a powder keg of desire primed to explode.

  I gazed at women and women, men and women, men and men. And women alone, desire written in their eyes.

  Today, from behind the lens, I studied a party of two, drenched in sexual anticipation.

  In my studio, the curvy brunette stretched like a cat across the sapphire-blue cover on the opulent bed. The dark-haired man gripped her hip with one hand, his other in her hair. He lay behind her, his body sealed to hers, his eyes hooded.

  A queen flanked by her loyal soldier, who served and protected her. Or maybe she served him. As I snapped shot after shot, I wrote the script to their after-dark affairs, imagining filthy moment after filthy moment.

  Truth be told, I didn’t have to imagine much. Their passion for each other was evident in their expressions, unmistakable in the tangling of their limbs. Yes, I’d posed them in my studio boudoir, but the poses came so naturally to these two.

  I moved around the bed, giving direction from my Nikon. “Marco, can you move your hand down her thigh a little bit? I want to see more of the curve of Evangeline’s sexy hip.”

  “It is the sexiest hip God ever created,” he growled, making the adjustment.

  “And, Evangeline, look to the left so the camera can see more of those glossy pink lips.”

  She shifted, briefly shooting him a look, a private gaze.

  So much was unsaid in the way they stole glances at each other.

  Longing. Craving. Heat.

  My mind raced ahead.

  Would he take her after their photo session? Would his hands travel all over her lush body?

  I wrote Marco and Evangeline’s afternoon delight in my head.

  Perhaps my neighbors would tell stories later of how the lift was stuck for thirty minutes that afternoon, and it was sooo annoying to have a mechanical malfunction.

  Only I’d know what had really happened.

  I’d know why everyone in this high-rise had to take the stairs.

  The second they left my home studio and entered the elevator down the hall, Marco would become insatiable, his palm slamming against the stop button. He’d yank up her skirt and thrust inside her, her wrists pinned above her head. She’d need no coaxing. She’d be ready for him, head thrown back, lips parted, taking it hard and loving it.

  Or perhaps the legend of their passion would be written in the parking garage. Maybe he’d pounce on her in the front seat before they turned on the engine, and those coming home early from work would do a double take.

  Did you see them? That couple heating up the windows in the black Audi? She rode him like he was her stallion.

  Or maybe they’d play denial games on the drive back to their home.

  Evangeline would want to touch herself, and Marco would issue orders in a deep, rumbling voice, one hand on the steering wheel, one on her bare thigh.

  Don’t touch yourself till I say so.

  Show me your panties.

  Now show me yourself.

  I bet she’d loved being told what to do.

  Bet she craved it like air.

  He’d make her squirm till they returned home and he’d order her to get down on all fours and then he’d take her to the edge of pleasure.

  I clenched my thighs at the wild thoughts racing through my head as my camera captured
their suggestive poses, their heated expressions, the sensual record of the moments before the camera stopped clicking.

  Before.

  That was what my lens recorded. The build, the slow burn, the seconds that ticked till these lovers lunged at each other.

  Sensual boudoir photography was my jam.

  It was the best job ever.

  And also the worst.

  Because of days like this. When my mind zigged and zagged with images.

  But I was a professional, and I had to keep my own wild meanderings at bay and finish the job.

  I zoomed in on their faces, then I stepped back, grabbing a series of full-body shots as the couple shifted, sitting up, her legs wrapped around his ass, their arms curled around each other. Two people who couldn’t get enough of each other.

  “Gorgeous,” I said, murmuring my approval. “Now, Evangeline, I want you to look at Marco like you’re going to rip off all his clothes.”

  She laughed, shooting me a playful glance. “But I’ve already stripped him down to his boxers.”

  I smiled knowingly from behind the camera. “Then you’re not done. Look at him like you’re going to tug those boxers off and have a field day with him.”

  “Field day,” he whispered to her in a voice tinged with lust. “That’s what we’ll have when we’re done.”

  Just as I predicted.

  Then the pair of them laughed, and I caught that too, because that’s what they’d asked for when they ordered this photoshoot—to record their love, their passion, and their trust in each other. They wanted it all for posterity—when they longed for each other and when they laughed with each other too. They seemed to share their vulnerability and tenderness so easily in a stranger’s bedroom. How did they do that? How did they let go?

  “Just behave while you’re in here,” I teased. “But, Marco, I need one thing from you.”

  “Name it,” the man said.