Page 230 of Devil’s Disciples

I poked the piece into my mouth. Surprisingly, it tasted good. Excited by the complexity of flavors, I looked at Abby with wide eyes. “I ordered the spicy tuna roll because I like tuna and I like spicy things. Looks like I made a good choice. This is pretty tasty.”

“I love sushi,” she said. “I could eat it every day. It’s not fun to eat it alone, though.”

I ate everything alone and didn’t see the complication. “What’s a good alone food?”

She brushed her hair behind her ear again and cocked her head to the side. After some consideration, her gaze met mine. “Salads. Scrambled eggs. Soup. Sandwiches. Those types of things.”

I reached for another piece of sushi. “Things that start with an ‘S’?”

She laughed. “No. Things that are boring. Boring things are okay to eat alone. Things that are fun should be shared with someone.”

I ate the piece of sushi and then wiped my mouth with my napkin. “What’s fun?”

She shrugged. “Pizza. Sushi. Spaghetti. Any Italian food, really. Tacos. Ice cream. Pie. Those are all fun, and they shouldn’t be eaten alone.”

I looked her up and down. Her arms were the size of my wrists. I couldn’t see her legs, but I didn’t need to. I’d seen them plenty when we were in the desert. They were lean and muscular, like that of a conditioned runner. By my guess, pie wasn’t a staple in her diet.

“You don’t look like you eat much pie,” I said.

“I can eat an entire pie.” She leaned forward and raised her brows. “All by myself.”

I spat disbelief on the table between us. “Bullshit.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said, beaming with pride. “I love pie.”

“What’s your favorite?”

She smiled. “Pecan.”

“A pecan pie has five thousand calories in it.” I argued. “There’s no way on earth you could eat one of those.”

“I have the metabolism of a cheetah.”

I chuckled at the thought of her attempting to eat an entire pie. “I’d pay money to see you eat a whole pecan pie.”

Her eyes widened a little. “How much?”

I shrugged. “Fifty bucks.”

She looked me over. “Make it a hundred.”

If Tito’s claim was correct, she made ten million dollars a year. She sure didn’t act like it. I decided he was misinformed and challenged her on her pie eating abilities.

“I’m not talking about a six-inch pie or some dumb shit like that,” I said. “A standard sized pie.”

“I’ll eat a nine-incher for a hundred,” she said with a smile.

I choked on a laugh. “If I offered to pay you a hundred to eat a nine-incher, wouldn’t that make you a prostitute?”

“If you offered to pay me a hundred to eat a nine-incher, you better have a nine-incher for me to eat. If not, it’d make you a liar. I don’t like liars.” she said, straight-faced.

Upon hearing the remark, half my blood shot to my face and the other half rushed to my cock. Now sporting a full-fledged hard on and sure I was blushing, I slid to the edge of the booth and tried to act suave.

With my manhood available for view, I looked right at her and raised both eyebrows. “I don’t lie.”

She peered over the edge of the table. Upon seeing my denim-encased wonder, her eyes went wide. “I’d uhhm. Wow,” she stammered. “An honest man is an attractive man.”

Her eyes remained glued to my crotch.