Page 33 of Devious Lies

I stroke my dick faster. Jerking off in my office like a fucking teenager, but whatever.

I need to take the edge off before I take her home with me, and sitting here, breathing in her scent while I get myself off, watching her in real time, well, it does the trick.

I groan as I start to cum. Hot jets of sticky liquid cover my shirt and my pants and I curse.

Fuck.

Good thing I have spare clothes in my office.

I lick my lips, looking at Maria one last time before I get up to change.

The audio is on low, and I can hear the DJ switching tracks. I grin wickedly, agreeing with the Black-Eyed Peas as I strip down.

Tonight really is going to be a very good night.

Woo. Hoo.

CHAPTER NINE-MARIA

Butterflies?

I try to calm down as I wipe the bar and load the last of the glasses in the big plastic tub for one of the bussers to bring to the kitchen to be run through the dishwasher.

My stomach is clenched so hard, I might actually have abs by the time the night’s over.

Yeah. Right.

I snort at my idiotic joke and shake my head.

But seriously, do people really call this feeling of anxiety and nervous anticipation butterflies?

It doesn’t feel soft and gentle. Like a swarm of pretty butterflies.

It feels like I have fighter jets going at it inside my gut.

Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. Maybe Luc was just messing around.

Then I hear his voice.

“Baby Girl, you ready?”

I turn, my eyes wide.

“Just let me get my bag,” I whisper my reply.

Tell him, Maria. Tell him you’re a fucking green as grass virgin and he’ll run the other way.

I frown at my inner voice. It’s self-preservation, right? It has to be.

But I don’t want to listen. In fact, I am not going to.

I’m tired of being afraid.

Of living day to day just working with no social life to speak of.

Of looking over my shoulder.

Of not being able to be with my mother through the toughest time of her life after Papi’s death.

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