Page 263 of Devil’s Disciples

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I asked.

“I’m sure there’s something,” he said. “It looks like this isn’t it, though.”

“You suck,” I said.

He inspected the grapes, chose a small one, and then raised it. “I picked a little one. Smaller should be easier, right?”

“Throw it, I’ll tell you in a minute.”

“Just open your mouth wide, and don’t move. I’ll throw it right in there.”

I opened my mouth wide enough to throw a cat into it. He tossed the grape with a flick of his wrist. It shot right into my mouth without so much as grazing a tooth, flew right past my tongue, and then got lodged in my windpipe.

My eyes bulged. I tried to cough but couldn’t. I wanted to give the universal signal for I’m choking, help me, but had no idea what it was. After pounding my fist into my chest twice, frantically, Porter must have realized the threat was real.

He leaped from his end of the couch, yanked me to my feet, and spun me halfway around. I felt a surge of pressure against my chest. I coughed and watched the grape shoot from my mouth and then bounce across the living room floor.

“Holy crap,” I gasped. “I almost died.”

“You didn’t even come close,” he said, releasing me from his grasp. “Three to zero. Time’s up. You lost.”

“I can’t go pick that crap up,” I said. “I almost died.”

“You choked on a grape, and it’s over. We had a bet. The loser of this grape toss has to dive to the Chinese place and pick up the food.”

“The loser is recovering from almost choking to death,” I said. “You go get it.”

“What good did it do to play the game?” he asked. “If you’re going to cheat and stay home while I go get the food?”

There were a million and a half people in the city of San Diego. Of those, roughly half were men. Of that population of seven hundred and fifty thousand men, I doubted there were more than one who would agree to a grape toss contest with the loser picking up the Chinese take-out.

Porter was quickly finding his way into my heart. Deep into my heart. He was so much more than what he appeared to be on the surface.

“How about we both go?” I asked.

He twisted his mouth to the side. “If I go, I’ll feel like a loser, but I didn’t lose.”

“Come on,” I whined. “I don’t want to go alone.”

“Suck my cock after dinner?” he asked.

His cock was huge, and my mouth was small. Sucking it was nothing short of jaw-breaking torture. But, if that’s what it took to get him to go with me, so be it.

“Sure” I said.

“Promise?”

I extended my hand.

He shook it, grinning the entire time.

I scrunched my nose. “What?”

“Who’s manipulating who, now?” he asked with a laugh.

I tried to act stupid. “What are you talking about?”

“That bullshit in the kitchen last week, after I bent your little ass over the island to prove a point.”