Arrogant Bastard - Julie Capulet Page 0,18

hear my own low oath.

This is fucking crazy.

Why am I dreaming about her?

Why do I feel all twisted and fucked up?

I get out of bed. There’s no way I can sleep. I’m sticky and sweaty and pissed off. I just came hard but I want to come again.

I check the time. It’s 3:08 a.m.

It’s too early to go to the gym or for a swim. I need to do something with this raging energy. I pace for a while. I could take a cold shower but I don’t want to.

I don’t want to wash her away yet.

She got me sticky and wet. She did this.

But why?

Why her?

Why am I dreaming and now obsessing about her, of all people?

Because she brushed me off, probably. It’s been a long time since a woman did that to me, the little minx. It’s the conquest that’s got me riled up, that’s all.

You have a good night now. I’ll goodnight you, sweetheart.

The angelic bartender who wants nothing to do with me.

We’ll see about that.

If she didn’t already have my attention with her feisty attitude and her nymphet face and that crazy-sweet body, she sure has it now.

What she doesn’t realize is that ignoring me is roughly the equivalent of waving a red flag at a feral two-ton bull. Even my subconscious won’t let that slide. So she’s invading my dreams. Fine. I’ve dealt with that. In my dreams I’ve possessed her. I’ve come deep inside her tight, squeezing pussy.

Now all I need to do is fuck her in real life.

I’ll be a lot more thorough. I’ll suck on her nipples until she moans. I’ll eat her pussy until she’s coming on my tongue. I’ll drive her crazy with lust like she’s doing to me now. Then I’ll thrust deep inside her until her orgasm milks the hot cum from my cock in seedy bursts.

I’m fully hard again. Fucking hell. Harder than hard. Throbbing and hot.

I want her, in a way that’s messing with my head.

And what I want, I get. The fact that she’s playing hard to get is … cute. And for some reason, hot as fuck.

I don’t know if a woman has ever played hard to get with me, come to think of it.

Luckily I have an ace up my sleeve.

She handed me the keys to her life without even meaning to. The little honey is in a bind and needs a bail out.

The thing is, I play hardball. I don’t fuck around, especially when I want something—someone—this badly. I can’t remember this ever happening before. I go after businesses and investments like this: with singular focus that no one and nothing can distract me from. But not women. I don’t need to chase them. They lay at my feet. They offer before I’ve even asked.

Except one, so it seems.

Sassy, gorgeous Luna from Iowa, of all people, is the one who’s gotten under my skin.

Holding my bloody, beating heart in her hands.

That was just a dream, I remind myself. A nightmare, more accurately.

I take my laptop out of my bag and open it.

I do some preliminary due diligence and send a few emails.

Then I google her.

She doesn’t have much of a digital footprint. A Facebook account. Luna LaRoux. A very light Instagram with a few pictures of sunsets. @lunalarouxxx

Mine. Those x’s are mine.

Gage, you need to get a goddamn grip, son.

There’s an article about her business dated almost a year ago, when the two of them took over ownership of the restaurant. There’s a photo of Luna and Josie behind the bar.

Damn, she’s pretty. She looks young and happy.

Like she did in the dream.

I want to make her smile like that.

My heart does that thing again where I’m aware of its bloody, heavy rhythm.

I close my laptop.

It’s not enough.

I need more.

I lay back on the bed. I close my eyes and I think of her. In her yellow dress. Behind the bar. On the dream beach. I peel off her clothes more slowly this time, tasting every inch of that flawless skin. I kiss my way down her body. To her pussy. God, I want to taste her so much.

The fantasy is too much. I come hard and fast. Even harder than the first time. Harder and longer and more forcefully, like my cock is on superpowered overdrive.

Fuck. This is bad.

I lay there panting in the dark, covered in my own sweat and cum. My blood feels hot and rabid. Like an animal. That’s how I feel. Like a hungry, out-of-control wild animal