Page 7 of Gluttony

“Look…peach…” he paused, realizing he needed to ease her toward the door, “leave your number, yeah? I’ll catch you another time.” Because there was no fucking way he was handing out his personal number to anyone—as the cyber expert for the Unchained, he knew just how easy it was to track and surveille someone, so handing his number out was a fat fucking no.

He gave it to Val easy enough, though, because he’d been desperate to speak with her even when he was away from his computer. Also, with her brains, she’d have no problem finding his number if she wanted it anyway.

He smirked at that thought; his woman was smart as fuck.

The woman he’d fucked—he didn’t even know her name—glided over to him, sliding her hand over his chest, his musclestightening—not in pleasure or anticipation, but rather repulsion. They’d fucked but he wasn’t about to let it get intimate, and touching without asking was not in his one-and-done playbook.Heinitiated.Hewas in control.

He gripped her wrist and gently removed her hand from his body.

Her face lit up, her smile turning sensual, her eyes growing dark. Damn, she was thirsty again, but he was all out of jizz to feed her.

“Hey,” he drawled, some unnamable drive pushing him. “Leave the hair tie,” he demanded, raising his hand to take it. It was black, like most of the others, but somehow this one felt heavier. Weightier. More consequential. As always, he slipped it over the top of the bed post, adding it to his collection, one only his MC brothers knew about.

If Val knew about the hair ties, he knew things would get rocky.

If she’s so okay with your fuckery, why are you scared of her finding out about your fuck tokens?

Fuck, he didn’t want to think about it.

It took too long to get the blonde out of his place, but once he did, he showered, changed his sheets, tossing them in the washer, and then remade the bed—his lieutenant would be proud, even six years after he signed his discharge papers—and then, finally, sat down to edit the video he’d just filmed.

As he watched the scene unfold, he cut, he layered, he made sure that everything was just this side of Meta’s community guidelines, then he saved the finished product, threw his head back, and sighed.

The video was fuck hot, and that was what he wanted, what his followers and subscribers wanted, but…Valentina….

He knew she was one of his 150,000 OnlyFans subscribers, and that she followed him on every other social media platform;that’s how they met, on Instagram. Val enjoyed and always liked the thirst trap images he posted, where he was always masked, usually bare-chested, and flashing naughty bits just this side of lurid. He’d built his following by giving the people what they wanted—him, arousing them by simply showing off his hard body in all its glory. He loved the tease, especially when he knew Val saw them. But he also knew that she didn’t like him filming the “scenes” with other woman, but wouldn’t stop him because it “made him happy,” because it was “part of who he was,” a man who got off on knowing millions of people were watching him, desiring him, getting off on what he was doing on their screens. She knew about his exhibitionist kink, about how he liked being watched—for the most part. He’d never cross the line and fuck in public, but his cock got hard at the thought that people looked at him, wanted him, and were using him as a tool for their own pleasure.

Yeah, he was fucked up, but Val…she understood. She didn’t like it, but she never made him feel like she was ashamed of him.

“Do I know millions of women look at you? Sure, you’re hot as hell, and I like looking, too. Do I like thinking about them pursuing you? No, I don’t, because…well…I’m jealous, even though I have no reason to be.”She took a deep breath, one that drifted over his skin even over the phone. She was right, she didn’t have a reason to be jealous, because those people could click and look, but they weren’t the ones he craved.“If it’s what makes you happy, Red, I won’t say anything about it. Only you can say what to do with your own body,”she’d said, and that had lifted a weight of anxiety from his shoulders. He’d liked Val, had found himself drawn to her, even from the beginning, before he’d ever heard her voice. But thatlikehad grown, deepened, into admiration, adoration, and finally soul deep affection. He loved the fuck outta her. And he knew it was the same for her.

Is that why you fucked the blonde? Because you care for Val so much?

Growling, he jolted from his desk chair and stomped from his room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. There was a bottle of Smirnoff he hadn’t finished off yet, and that would do just the trick to silence that slithering, chittering, chilling voice in his head. The voice that told him that what he was doing was wrong, that if he wanted to be with Val, he needed to keep his dick in his fucking pants.

But Val understood, she knew that he was a man with needs, with an appetite, with a hole inside him he tried to fill with fucking and online likes. She was so okay with it that she still liked and commented on all his videos—there was no way she was so naïve that she didn’t realize that he was fucking those women. But they never talked about it. They’d get online, chat, text, call each other, and spend hours every day just being together, well, as much as they could be together when she was still refusing to meet him face-to-face. Yes, he understood she was shy, had some hang ups about her looks, but he didn’t give a shit if she had a cleft palate, a cloven hoof, or a goiter—he just wanted to meet the woman he loved, touch her, kiss her, inhale her scent, press her warm skin against his, and just…bewith her.

Touch her with hands tainted with the body of another woman….

Fuck. What this fuck was with all those thoughts? Val was fine. They were fine. And once Val came around, they’d be more than fine because they would be together, and he’d never touch another woman again. She would own him.

She already does…but you give what belongs to her to others….

Goddammit!

Val on his mind, guilt slithering through him—not that he did anything wrong—he decided to send her gift certificate for Starbucks, her one weakness—caffeine and pastries.

That morning, she’d texted about work, an assignment she was on for the state, and how she was only powering through it with the help of caffeine. She couldn’t give any information about what she was working on, but she shared enough that Red knew she was fucking brilliant.

So brilliant that cracking open any file on her was impossible—and he’d tried, wanting to know all there was to know about her. Wanting to find pictures of her, to see her with his own eyes. He wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t admit that, in terms of cyber skill, she had him beat by a fucking mile. There wasn’t a trace of her where she didn’t want it, and that meant he was stuck waiting until she felt safe enough to reveal everything.

He understood her desire for time, and he respected it. He’d promised to wait for her; to commit his heart only to her, and he’d keep that promise. She would be the only serious relationship he’d ever have…once she finally agreed to be with him. Until then, he filled his days filling holes, uploading Reels and videos, talking with Val, and then looking for his next empty, meaningless, faceless hole to fuck.

Yeah, Valentina was a fucking rockstar, so understanding, so mature about everything. And once she finally agreed to meet him, he’d pull out all the stops to make her the happiest woman on the fucking planet.

But how much longer was he expected to wait, to yearn for her, to silently beg for her to finally come to him?

Heaving a sigh, he threw back two shots of vodka, then headed to bed.

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