Page 259 of Devil’s Disciples

I disagreed wholeheartedly. “Fucking is quality time.”

“Guess we won’t be watching the rest of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, then. Will we?” he asked with a laugh.

We’d watched the first five episodes from the comfort of my bed. It was a great show, and I hated to think about missing the ending. “I don’t see why we can’t do both,” I offered. “You can screw me from behind while we’re facing the TV. Like the Canadians do during the Stanley Cup playoffs.”

“That’s one of the things I like about you, Abby.” He kissed me again. “You’re a problem solver.”

“I’m a girl,” I said. “We create problems when there’s actually nothing to worry about. It’s part of what makes us interesting creatures.”

He pulled up his pants. “If creating problems is part of being a woman, I don’t see how that’s to anyone’s benefit.”

“Finding the solution is the fun part,” I said. “It usually ends with us getting something we want.”

He buckled his belt and gave me a look. “So, you’re manipulative?”

“Absolutely not,” I lied.

His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t just coerce me into having sex?”

I did, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking I’d manipulated him. “No. You screwed me to prove a point. You manipulated me. You asked me to grab your cock, remember?”

“Oh.” He looked away. “Yeah, that’s right. I did, didn’t I?”

“So, in summary, you manipulated me into having sex this morning. That means that you need to give it to me without me asking for it tonight. You know, to make up for your manipulative actions this morning.”

He met my gaze. “Huh?”

I had him right where I wanted him. “Just nod your head.”

He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

I gave him a kiss on my way to the bathroom. Being in a relationship with Porter was going to be fun, at least until he figured out who was manipulating who.

96

Ghost

Although I’d been in California for thirteen years, I’d never spent much time at the beach. After meeting Abby, I’d sat and watched the sunset no less than a dozen times. The event had become somewhat of a ritual for us. One I truly enjoyed.

We were seated side by side on the upper deck of her home, facing the ocean. Three weeks had quickly passed since the day I first kissed her, which made our relationship the longest one I’d ever had. Pleased that everything was working in our favor, I stared at the indigo body of water and waited for the sun to melt into it.

“Do you think this is peaceful?” she asked.

I glanced in her direction. “Sitting here?”

Peering through the lenses of her Aviator sunglasses, she sipped her glass of tea. “Watching the sunset. Smelling the ocean. Sitting here.”

With the sound of the waves within earshot and the air so thick with salt water it could be tasted, I didn’t worry about my condition, cancer, or what the future might hold. Somehow, the ocean transported me to a place where either my problems didn’t matter, or they simply didn’t exist.

“It’s comforting,” I said.

She shifted her attention back to the horizon. “When I was sick, I used to sit out here and pray. Sometimes I’d fall asleep in this chair.”

I had no desire to say a prayer to a God I wasn’t sure existed. Falling asleep with the sound of the ocean in the distance sounded like a good idea, though.

“We should do that sometime,” I said.

“Do what?”