Gluttony (Unchained Hearts #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

Loud, deep laughter made Valentina Ivanova wonder what the hell she was doing in this bar, because it was their bar. His bar. Cool Hands had been an Unchained MC bar since it open almost a year ago. Tonight was her first night there, and she was pleasantly surprised. She was expecting a rowdy bar with dark corners, speakers blaring Pantera, thick smoke, Harley branding on the walls, and sticky, dirty floors. Cool Hands was not that. At all. It was a great place to enact her plans.

She came…because he came. Redtube. Towering over her 5’3” height at 6’3”, sexy as hell, covered in beautiful ink, and the perfect combination of all her fantasies into one hot, seductive, mysterious...thirst trap.

Val knew he’d be at Cool Hands tonight because it was a Friday, and Fridays meant the bar was filled with all of Redtube’s favorite things: booze, hard rock, and willing women.

Then again…forty-eight days ago…he’d made a promise to her; he’d wait for her. He’d wait until she was ready to finally meet him in person, something she’d been putting off for months. Because she was a fucking coward.

Her mother, God rest her soul, would be so disappointed in her. So would Ms. Emma Todd, her foster mother who’d taken her in after her mother’s death. Then again, Val was disappointed in herself. Which was why she was sitting in the booth at Cool Hands, trying to work up the confidence to walk right up to Redtube and introduce herself. The real her. To the real him.

She wasn’t a stranger to Redtube…at least not online. Online they were closer than any two people could be without actually having met in real life. She “met” Redtube almost a year ago when she was scrolling through Instagram and nearly choked on her tongue when his Reel popped up in her feed.

The man was a thirst trap. All glistening, tattooed muscles, his jeans unbuttoned, his big hands shoved into his pants to cup himself…all while wearing a red devil mask to obscure everything but his hair and eyes. And it was those dark gray-hazel eyes that had transfixed her. His body was nothing to sneer at, though, either. And it was his body—specifically a tattoo—that had driven her to slip into his DMs and leave a message.

“You’re Unchained.”

That was it. That was the message.

And, much to her shock, not more than ten minutes later, he’d responded, surprised that she knew what the laughing skull busting through chains tattooed to his well-muscled back meant. It meant that he was a member of the Unchained MC, a local motorcycle club that ran legitimate businesses, wreaked a little havoc when necessary, and had made a name for themselves for helping out the less fortunate, and generally being sexy badasses. She had to admit to him that she knew of them because she lived near their territory.

He'd asked her name, and she’d given him her handle: @xxxDaisyChainxxx

He’d thought that was hilarious—something to do with kinky sex—and then he’d asked her about her favorite sexual positions. She’d been honest with him and told him she had no idea, because sex, for her, had always been vanilla. She’d lied, though, because vanilla sex would be an improvement over what she really had…nothing. She was a big, fat virgin. How could she tell him that, though? The man was walking sex with badassery poured all over him like oil. Telling him about her “vanilla” sex life had been like waving a red flag in front of a thirst trap bull, because he came into her DMs full on, teasing her, embodying every inch of his thirst trap persona.

And she’d hated it. Her handle had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with remembering her mother, who’d died twelve years ago, and how she’d spent summer days with her, making daisy chains while sitting in the grass, lazing under the sun. When she’d told him that, he seemed truly moved by her response, even going so far as to say it was a good memory to have. She’d been happy that he’d responded so kindly, and she foolishly believed that he was starting to show her who he really was…but the next day, he was back to being the Redtube he was to everyone else.

She didn’t want to get to know the man he portrayed to his 100 thousand followers, she wanted to know him . The real Redtube—or, as he was known back then, @RedDevilDog.

It had taken more than a month of back-and-forth chats where he flirted outrageously, and she tempered that with goofiness and lots of heavy sigh emojis. Back and forth. For a month. She was despairing that she was ever going to break through the facade of being just one of the hundreds of thousands.

Eventually, their conversations became less about flirtations and more about interests, like movies, music, favorite local foods. And, finally, they had a breakthrough when she mentioned she’d graduated from the University of Scranton with a master’s in software engineering and a bachelors in cybercrime and Homeland Security. He’d been floored that she’d accomplished so much in only four years. Then…he’d admitted to her that he was a computer geek himself, but he'd gained his knowledge and experience from Uncle Sam while serving in the Marine Corps.

And from then on, a sort of true friendship was born. But they didn’t stay “friends” for long.

Within another week, they’d taken their online chats into a video chat room she’d designed. It was so secure that not even the NSA could crack into it. She and Redtube could login and turn on their cameras to chat with one another. Well, he could turn his camera on, revealing his real face, the one he hid behind is mask in all his videos. And, goddamn, when she’d seen his unmasked face for the first time, she’d nearly come on the spot. Sharp angles, golden skin, dark scruff, and lips that desperately needed to be nibbled…by her. That reaction had been one of the reasons she’d refused to reveal anything more than her voice.

Because she was a coward.

A fat, ugly, scarred coward.

And he said he understood her fear, her self-consciousness, even though he was the direct opposite of her, having no issue, whatsoever, with revealing himself—in all his glory—to strangers. She was literally the opposite of him—he loved to perform for the cameras, showing the thirsty ladies nearly every inch of his gorgeous body. But her…she only ever left her house to go to work, the store, and Cool Hands—and only ever while covered from neck to toes, a ridiculous attempt to disguise her size and all the lumps and bumps that came with being a bigger girl. Thankfully, her physical scars were easily covered by her shirts, but they did nothing to hide her big tits and belly rolls.

People stared plenty at her size 18 body, with her wide ass, her big, un perky tits, her thick thighs that rubbed holes in her jeans when she walked, and at her belly that no amount of carb-cutting and belly toning exercises could diminish. She was self-conscious, self-deprecating, and nurtured a tad bit of self-loathing.

But…over the last forty-eight days, with encouragement from Redtube, and his promise to wait growing a garden of hope in her chest, she finally got the nerve to suck it up, put on some bravery, and be this close to him.

And she was determined to get closer—at least closer than she already was.

The man she was focused on as he sat nursing a whiskey with two of his club brothers in the booth just behind hers. The booth was high enough to keep conversations private, but she’d discovered—completely by accident—that this one had a sliver of space between the booth and the wall that allowed conversation to carry through to the booth she was sitting in, her ear pressed to the crack like a total skeeze.

She listened, as they spoke, not recognizing the other two voices, but she could recognize Redtube’s voice in a summer storm.

“…it was like it a Hoover and a Dyson had a threesome with a hurricane—seriously, that chick sucked me so good, I came back for seconds,” the one man said, making Val curl her nose in disgust. Was this really what men talked about in bars?

“Thirds?” the other unknown man asked, snickering.

She heard a snort, and she could guess there was an eyeroll in there, too. “Nah, man. You know my rule—Cluster hits it once then bounces. The only reason I went in for seconds was because of that mouth. Gawt damn , that mouth.”

The men chuckled, and Val threw up in her mouth a little. What a piece of shit. These were the men Redtube called brothers?

Well, at least Redtube had changed. He’d gone from being all about the sex games in their DMs to actually valuing her as a person. Yes, he still posted his thirst trap videos on Insta and OnlyFans, but she was sort of proud that she and only she knew the man behind the mask. That she knew him as a person and not just as a sex object to drool over. When she chatted with him in their special chat room, listening to his deep, smooth as brown butter voice, looking into a face revealed to her—a gorgeous, ruggedly beautiful face—she could feel her heart open to him, and she could feel him open to her, too.

Once she got over herself and finally sacked up and met him, they’d take their budding relationship from the internet to the real world, where he’d show her just how much she meant to him.

“Just…come out from behind the blank screen, my Daisy. I wear a mask for money, what’s your excuse? I want to see your face, I want to touch you, and learn what you feel like when you’re relaxing against me, what you sound like when you sleep, and I want to know what your lips taste like.”

“But…what if you don’t like how I look? And what about my scars?”

“My Daisy…you mean more to me than anything in this world. I will wait for you….”

That had been the moment she realized that…maybe, they could have something different. That they could have something real.

So why are you still hiding, all wedged in the corner like a lost sock?

“Hey man, check this out?—”

“What the hell, man? Is that a pussy?” Cluster asked.

“Yeah. It’s my fuck token,” the other voice offered.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Every girl I fuck, I get a pic of her snatch, sort of like planting a flag like I’d been there, done that.”

“Like how serial killers keep trophies?” Cluster inquired, sounding too interested in the topic.

“Sort of, but the only killin’ going on is me killin’ that pussy.”

All three men laughed, and Val grimaced. Seriously? Ick. She shuddered, her lips curling.

“Does everyone keep fuck tokens? Like panties or bras, shit like that?”

“I keep hair ties,” a voice she recognized as well as her own finally spoke. The voice was like smoky bourbon, poured over smooth silk, warm velvet, and dark fantasies.

“No shit?” the unknown voice remarked. “That means all your chicks have to have long hair, which we all know you like, because you’re a sick fuck who likes to pull hair while you fuck ‘em.”

Red chuckled darkly. “Exactly. Once we’re done, I take their hair tie as a ‘fuck token’.”

As Val sat there, her mind and heart colliding, they continued their conversation like Red hadn’t just turned everything she wanted to believe about him on its head.

She thought…she thought he’d changed. For her.

He talked about it but maybe that’s all it is…talk. He could just be posturing for his club brothers. He really could be waiting for you like he promised he would.

Immediately, that foolish thought was annihilated.

“So, you lookin’ for a new ride tonight, brother?” the one who wasn’t Cluster asked.

Cluster chuckled. “You know it,” he replied. “Me and Red are lookin’ for a pair of blondes we saw at the car show today. Told them about this place, and they said they’d come. And we’ll make sure they ‘come. ’”

Val sucked in a breath and held it.

Cluster and…Red? Redtube, her Redtube was…he was going to take come blonde home with him tonight?

But…what about his promise to wait for her? He wouldn’t lie about something like that, right? He said he understood, that she meant everything to him, and that he would wait until she was ready.

He said he would wait!

“Speak of the she-devil,” Redtube drawled, and Val’s chest twisted at his words. “I’m gonna go welcome my guest…then we’re headed to my place. No need to waste time when I want to take all night with those tits and that ass.”

Val gagged on the rising vomit, swallowing it back before she puked all over the table.

Cluster told the truth.

But Redtube had lied.

Suddenly, she was grateful that she’d turned away the waitress who’d come to give her the menu, because there was no way she could have kept any food down.

Frozen, her whole body a block of ice, she sat and listened as Redtube slid across the creaking leather booth seat, then, from the corner of her eye, she watched his massive, broad shouldered frame move past where she was sitting, hiding, and toward the bar where the twiggy, big-boobed blonde with plump lips, big blue eyes, and very little clothing was standing, staring at him as he approached, her expression one of excitement and lust. Yeah, she knew she was getting devoured that night.

Swallowing down another wave of bile, Val tried to shift in her seat, to unstick herself from the place where her heart had imploded…where her life, the one she’d been foolishly planning with Red, had shattered. God, she was such a fucking idiot; thinking a man who was as sexy, sexually voracious, and arrogant as Redtube would ever actually feel anything for her—a woman who was nothing like the women in his videos or standing at the bar in Cool Hands.

The blonde was going home with Redtube.

And he’ll probably post a video about it tomorrow….

Her gaze stuck on the man she loved and the woman he was going to fuck that night instead of her, Valentina watched as Red slid his finger down the woman’s face, slowly. Val couldn’t hear what he was saying over the din of the busy bar, but his mouth was moving—probably as he promised her pleasure beyond her comprehension, as he told her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, as he lied to her about how special she was, and how he would treat her like the goddess she was…. And the woman was eating it up.

Just as Val had when, after she refused to turn on her camera for the tenth time, he’d told her, “I want to see you, baby. I bet you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…” and “I’m going to treat you like the goddess you are, my Daisy…” and “You are special to me, Val. There’s no one who means as much to me as you do…you have to believe me….”

Lies.

All lies.

And what she was witnessing with her own eyes was proof of that.

Right then, he dropped his hand from the woman’s face, and the woman placed her hands on Red’s chest. He was wearing his MC kutte and a tight black t-shirt over the wide expanse of his chest. It was obvious the man was working on his bulk because he was thick muscles laid over slabs of rock-hard sinew, blanketed with ink so beautiful it made her weep with her need to trace each one with her tongue.

But it wouldn’t be her tracing his tattoos that night…or any night.

Because he’d lied. She wasn’t special to him, he wasn’t waiting for her, he probably hadn’t even paused in his pursuit of a variety of easy pussy.

Fool. Idiot. Hopeless loser!

Shaking her head, she couldn’t tear her gaze from Red and the blonde as they hurried from the bar, Red’s massive hand pressed against the small of the woman’s back. Val knew Red’s bike was in the parking lot; she’d recognized it from photos he’d sent her, the proud papa of his Harley Fat Bob with the Milwaukee Eight 114 engine, the loudest beast on the market. The gas tank was painted a deep red, and emblazoned with a black and silver devil, in flames, grinning maniacally.

The blonde would ride on the back of his bike, to his house, where he’d pleasure her, probably on camera, as he gave her what he’d promised—forty-eight days ago—to only give to Val.

Liar!

Trembling with anger—at Red and at herself—she stumbled from the booth, ignoring the MC brothers still in the booth behind her, and made her way toward the door.

She had to see with her own eyes, she had to watch him as she rode off with the blonde, the woman he’d chosen over her—and not the first, not if what he was saying to his brothers was the truth.

Liar! He’s a liar!

Passing people who’re stepping through the door to enjoy the bar, Val forced her feet to keeping moving forward, one in front of the other, heel to toe, all the way to the edge of the parking lot.

Uncaring if people were staring at her, if they could see her in all her hideousness, she was, once again, frozen in place.

There, not more than five spaces from the door in the parking slots designated for the MC members, Red was helping the blonde slide onto the seat behind him. In his black t-shirt, black leather Unchained kutte, black jeans, and black shit kickers, he was a dark god with a golden goddess wrapped around him.

Desperate, Val silently begged for him to look in her direction, to see her, to somehow recognize her, to kick the blonde from the back of his bike, run to Val, wrap those thick, tattooed arms around her, and tell her it was all a mistake, that he wasn’t going to break his promise to her, that he wasn’t going to betray her trust in him—a trust she hadn’t given him easily.

Come on, Red…look at me! See me! Don’t leave with her! Don’t hurt me, please !

But he didn’t do that. He turned and grinned wickedly at the blonde behind him, started the bike, then walked it backward out of the parking spot. In less than a minute, the Harley, and the betrayer it carried, were nothing but a single red brake light disappearing into the gathering darkness.

Her chest tight, her breathing choppy, tears burning into the backs of her eyes, her body vibrating with unspoken, barely leashed emotions, Val slowly made her way to her car parked in the back lot, furthest from the door.

She’d come there tonight to finally reveal herself, to show him how brave she was, and how brave he’d made her with his encouraging words and willingness to “wait for her.” Instead of all those stupid, starry-eyed plans going the way she’d been dreaming of, she was leaving the bar, broken, angry, and filled with more self-doubt than she’d ever felt before.

How could she have been so stupid? So gullible? So utterly pathetic?

Just like in his Instagram Reels where he’d worn a mask and played the wicked @RedDevilDog, Redtube had been playing a part all along; he’d played her, and she’d fallen for every lie.