Page 77 of Devious Lies

Fucking lame, Luc.

I grit my teeth. My inner voice can be a total douchebag sometimes.

“What if you regret this? What if you get tired of me in like a day?”

“Just keep wearing those backless panties and we won’t have a problem,” I mumble and adjust my hardening dick.

She smirks. But then she shakes her head.

“I’m serious, Luc,” she replies as I pull into the garage.

I turn in my seat and grab her chin.

“I’m fucking serious too. You belong to me, Baby Girl. Now keep your sweet ass right there until I open the door,” I say, then I lean over and kiss her lips.

Goddamn.

I love kissing Maria. It’s an addiction, I know.

Each time our lips meet, I want to swallow her down.

I want to devour her so I can keep her inside me, always.

She doesn’t know it. She can’t comprehend it.

Seven months is a long time to obsess over someone. I know her better than she thinks. I know she fits perfectly with my life.

So yeah, I am very certain I want her living in my house.

Our house now.

I grin at that and open her door, cocking my head as I watch her long skirt get caught on something. It slides up as she moves forward, then it slips back down her thick thighs as she stands.

Fuck.

Who knew getting out of a car could rival pornography?

On a hotness scale of one to ten, I give Baby Girl an eleven. And knowing that I’m the only man to have her, well, that just makes it even better.

What can I say? I’m a fucking barbarian like that.

I go to the trunk and take out her scuffed up rolling suitcase and the backpack she filled with her toiletries.

“Um, what about my other stuff?” she asks.

“It’ll be packed up and brought over,” I tell her.

“That’s silly. I can do it.”

“Not necessary,” I say.

I won’t tell her I can’t stand the idea of her in that place.

Basement apartment? The landlord should be shot.

It’s a fucking hovel.

Oh, she did what she could to brighten it. She has woven baskets and bins, colorful curtains hanging up.

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