Page 27 of Gluttony

“It’s been two weeks, Bo. That pussy of yours is supposed to be magical, so start using it.” He downs another glass of white and refills.

“I don’t understand how you’re okay with that.” This is like a forbidden question in our relationship. Obviously, cheating is a hard no outside of the cons, but according to Mickey, a job is a job and if I have to use my pussy or he needs to use his dick, then all bets are off.

I’ve never been a fan of this part but Mickey always insisted that sometimes, there’s no other way. It’s always been his role to pull strings from behind his computer. He hacks intopeople’s lives, watches through the cameras, then manipulates everything and anything to get the job done. Sometimes we use sex as a means and he’s been known to seduce a rich heiress or two in the past, but the whole fake seduction game isn’t my jam. That said, I’m pretty damn good at it, so his passive-aggressive attitude tonight is not sitting well with me.

“It’s just sex, right? No big deal. It’s not like they’re gonna fall in love with you.” And the hits just keep on coming. Wow, way to make a girl feel special.

Sitting back in my chair, I stare at him from across the table. He really doesn’t care. He doesn’t care as he drinks his wine or eats his bread. He doesn’t care when the main course arrives and he downs his carefully prepared fish with a potent paste of parsley and garlic. There’s no mistaking his annoyance at my silence when he cleans his plate with a piece of bread and washes it down with a glass of water. He. Doesn’t. Care.

Worse, it’s my fault that he doesn’t care. That nothing is working out quickly enough or to his liking is apparently due to my incompetence.

Just as I’m about to take a trip to the bathroom, a shadow falls over the table a fraction of a second before a large man pulls up a chair next to me and sits.

“Bowie. How are you?” Oh, fuck my life. I never told Mickey that they figured out my real name. And by figured out, I do mean that I let it slip.

Taken aback, Mickey cocks his head to the side and flashes me a warning smile. “Yeah, Bo-wie. Tell us how you’re doing.”

This is so fucking awkward. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to blow off Orion or seduce him.

Rubbing my lips together, I take a deep breath and give Mickey my profile so I can face Orion.

“Hi. Fancy meeting you here.” The noise that comes from my mouth is a mix between a giggle and snort. Walking around covered in dog shit would be sexier than that.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. While Orion asks a seemingly innocent question, his entire body is sending a completely different vibe. It’s more than jealousy or anger, it’s one step removed from…hatred? And don’t even get me started on Mickey, who at this point is no help at all. He’s just sitting there being a fucking prick.

“Right, yes. Wow, I’m being rude, aren’t I?” Okay, back to the plan. “Orion Thorne, this is my date, Mi–” I hesitate because we never thought of a fake name for Mickey.

“Miller Cummings.” Mickey puts his hand out, waiting for Orion to shake it. Problem is, my boss is eyeing said hand like it’s covered in slime, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. “This is our first date. Hoping I impressed the little lady so I can get another one soon.” Bringing his napkin to his mouth, he pats it clean and gives me a warm smile that reaches all the way to his eyes.

I knew Mickey was a great actor, I just didn’t know he wasthisgood because I never thought he’d use his superpower against me.

“I’m sure.” The venom in Orion’s two-word answer is like poison in the air between us.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the little boys’ room.” Mickey chuckles, a self-deprecating sound I’ve never heard from him before. In fact, Mickey always makes sure he’s the smarter person in the room.

Once he’s out of ear shot, Orion is the one who chuckles.

“Little boys’ room? Sounds about right.”

The room is suddenly too small, too crowded, too warm. Orion’s presence feels like an omen, the inevitable doom of all my plans. Also, he smells so fucking good with his deep tonesand seductive sandalwood. Maybe Mickey’s right, I should just stop thinking and give in to this job.

“I’m sure it’s just a figure of speech.” I smile up at him, polite and demure, but inside, my entire body is burning with heat.

Orion leans in, his eyes trained on me for the longest time, his breath fanning over my mouth. “Does that mean you don’t know the size of his cock?” I do, obviously, but it’s nothing to write home about. I found that out when I came mouth to cock with Orion’s.

Fuck my life, when he talks like this, unabashed with his attention fixed solely on me, I feel oddly special.

“No. It’s a first date.” I guess I’m just as good at lying as Mickey, judging from the slow grin that grows across Orion’s lips showing me straight white teeth in neat little rows.

“Correction.” I’m confused by that one word. What does that even mean?

“Pardon?”

“I said…” Orion milks the dramatic pause for all its worth. “‘Correction’.” When he leans back in this time, his top lip brushes ever so slightly over my bottom one and it sends a shot of current straight to my belly. Okay, fine. Not my belly, my clit. Definitely my clit. “This is your last date.”

Why is that so fucking hot?

For the longest time, we just stare at each other, our eyes imprisoned, our attention in a bubble where only we exist. Still, my brat mode is activated.

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