Page 38 of Gluttony

This all feels a little like déjà vu so I just shrug and walk around him, even though my instinct is to rub my face on his chest so I can take his scent with me.

I’m certain he’s about to step into his apartment and lock the door but he surprises me by waiting for the elevator with me. In complete silence.

Like agentleman, he walks—more like drags—me back to the lobby where he asks his front desk manager to call the driver. From there, he waits, in fucking silence, for the car to arrive then helps me inside before closing the door, tapping the roof twice and stepping away from the curb as we ride away.

Weird. And oddly sexy. I always did have a thing for the dark and broody type so I guess this is no surprise.

The whole way back I wonder what I could have done for better results. Then I remember that I made it up to their penthouse apartment so I’m counting that shit as a huge win.

“Come on, come on, come on…” With the phone to my ear as I speed walk up to my apartment, I chant these two words over and over again. I haven’t heard from him since the Valentine’s dinner shitshow, red roses notwithstanding, and tonight was a breakthrough I need to share with him.

Except this fucker isn’t answering his phone.

By the time I turn the key, push open my door, and lock myself away in my studio, I’m three degrees shy of livid. We’re supposed to be a team but he’s playing an individual sport where I don’t even matter in this equation.

The only nice thing I couldn’t live without when I took this place was a decent coffee machine so I bought the same one Ihave at the condo. Pretty sure it costs more than this studio is worth.

With my phone still in my hand, I make myself a comfort cappuccino so I can sip it and contemplate every fucking detail of tonight’s events.

The things Hadley did to my body? Fucking hell. I can’t deny that the slightly demented look in his eye, like a feral tiger biding his time for the perfect kill, scared the fuck out of me at first.

Until, that is, the lust settled in. From that point, all bets were off. Taped to the faucet? No problem. Good old ass smacking? Bring it on. Talk so dirty I need a shower to get myself off? Yes, please.

The zucchini up my vajayjay I could’ve lived without. That little sneaky shit doesn’t know I saw him wiping it off with a dishcloth first, like he was worried about my safety. I guess considerate psychopaths are a thing and not just an oxymoron.

Leaning against the counter that I scrubbed down on day one like a madwoman afraid I’d catch dysentery if I touched anything without gloves, I bring the cappuccino to my lips and slice my gaze to the right at the phone screen. Yes, my ringer is on, still…I don’t want to miss it if Mickey calls back.

To distract myself from my so-called boyfriend’s radio silence, I allow my mind to wander back to earlier. I still can’t believe Hadley left me there. Actually…left. When I heard the door to his room slam, I knew I was fucked. Well, not literally since his dick and my pussy didn’t get a proper introduction, but having Hayes find me in that position was inevitable. Not sure if having Orion walk in would have been any better.

A tiny smile forms at the corners of my lips at the memory of Hayes’s eyes devouring every inch of my naked ass. Cum and all. He was turned on, it was clear as day and I have no idea how the fuck he was able to reel in the lust.

But most confusing of all was Orion.

I can still smell him, all dark scents and enticing promises. But his face? It told a completely different story. Orion Thorne was fucking livid and his ire was aimed straight at me. Sure, the fire burning in his deep, dark brown eyes could have been confused for a profound need to fuck, but when he ordered a car to take me back to my place faster than Desiigner’s career, the fantasy took a disappointing turn.

Again, I smile into my cappuccino because, despite the outcome, his anger feels a lot like jealousy, but I nearly end up wearing it when my phone blares and vibrates from my other hand, confirming that my ringer is, indeed, on.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I don’t usually go full frontal with Mickey because he’s not always appreciative of confrontation but I’m pissed and he needs to know that he has no business treating me like an afterthought.

“Busy. What’s going on?” Busy? That’s his answer to his disappearing act? Fuuuuuck. Okay, going head to head with him will only cause an argument that he’ll win which will, in turn, cause me to dissect every word and wonder what I did wrong.

Pretty sure it’s the definition of gaslighting but here I am.

“I got into their apartment.” I’m expecting an attagirl or good, let’s work on the next steps or even, are you okay? What I get is none of those options.

“Did they fuck you?”

“Ah, kinda?” Does a zucchini count?

“Ah, kinda!” Mickey mimics my answer with a high pitched voice that, spoiler alert, sounds nothing like me.

With my best effort at diffusing the situation, I explain what I learned about the apartment layout, the elevator security, and anything else I think could be useful. Although, I don’t know why I bother because I can tell by the minimal responses that Mickey has already checked out of the conversation.

“So what you’re saying is, you got nothing. You have no idea where the Abyss is and you didn’t even cement your claim on them by fucking them.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Mickey. I’m doing my best but they don’t bring women to their place. They’re super weird about that. The fact I got to see their kitchen is a huge win.” As I speak, my tone rises and my voice sounds more and more like his earlier impersonation of me.

“Quit making excuses. I was counting on you to get this done but as per fucking usual, I’m the only one actually working around here.” His rant is followed by heaving breaths, like his anger is continuing the conversation. Or to be more accurate, the rant. “You know what? Forget it, I’ll take care of it.”

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