I don’t know what it is, maybe the alcohol, but he feelssafe. At least safe enough that I feel comfortable enough to grind my ass on a total stranger. But is he a stranger? Kinda? I technically don’t know anything about this man besides that he has the dreamiest green eyes on a man I’ve ever seen and that he has a rock-hard, God-like body that he’s grinding against me, making me clench my thighs together to keep from moaning.
His lips graze my neck, his breath huffing against my skin, sending an electric zing through my body. Dante’s hands leave my hips and slowly travel up my body until his fingers land on my sternum. He lightly drags his fingers up across my chest, teasing my decolletage until his hand wraps around my neck, holding me steady.
I’m putty in the man's hands. He feels so good that he could do anything to me right now, and I would let him. My overthinking brain quickly sobered me up at the thought.
What am I doing? He could be another Greg, and here I was, letting him wrap his hand around my neck. Dante’s grip on my neck is a little too tight, and I tense up, pulling away, “Sorry, I—I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry—Luna!” Dante starts to apologize, but I turn and move through the crowd.
I find Olivia when I spot her by the bar, still waiting for the bartender. “Hey, listen. I’m gonna go. I thought I was ready, but I don’t think I am. You stay. Have fun.” I say, breathless and in a mild panic.
“Are you sure? I can go home with you.” Olivia gives me a worried look.
“I’m sure,” I say, hugging her. “Stay and have fun. I will grab an Uber. Thank you for inviting me out. I’m just in my head too much.”
“Please text me when you’re home. I’ll let you know when I get home, too.” Olivia says, letting go of me, and giving me an apologetic look.
I nod and head up the stairs to the main landing. I find the host—a woman with long blonde hair, her hair held back in a sleek ponytail. She is wearing all black, looking down at a clipboard as I approach. “Hi, I’m looking for Charlie,” I say loud enough for her to hear me over the music.
“You’re looking at her. How can I help?” she says, finally looking up from her clipboard.
“I need a ride from Bessie,” I say, not so confidently.
Charlie chuckles, “Understood. Stand over here to the side, and I’ll call an Uber. Where are you going?”
“The Ozark apartments.” Charlie nods and disappears behind the curtain.
I take a few calming breaths before I stop chastising myself. I’m trying to rationalize why I let myself be so vulnerable again. Dante’s hands were around my neck, and anything could have happened—but he’s not Greg. Greg wanted to hurt you. Dante was just dancing. It was something ordinary people did, and sometimes it involved physical contact. So why am I freaking out so much? Tonight was supposed to be about fun. I was having fun—until my brain ruined everything.
Charlie appears from behind the curtain. “Uber’s out front. Your driver's name is Claire. Have a good rest of your evening.”
“Thanks. You, too.” I make my way to themain doors, and a bouncer instinctively opens the door for me. I step through, the spotlights lining the entrance steps blind me, but I can still see the outline of a car parked to the left. I walk down the steps and over to the woman standing outside the vehicle, “Hi, Claire?” I ask.
“Yes. Going to the Ozarks?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Claire opens the door for me, and I get into the back. She closes the door, and I look back over at the entrance of Pyre. Dante is there, looking around frantically. I turnmy head quickly, hoping he doesn’t spot me when the Uber takes off.
Sorry, Dante. Maybe another time when I’m not such a mess.
Dante
I read Luna’s message for the hundredth time. The warm feeling I crave washes over me as I taste her praise on my tongue.
Luna has over fifty thousand followers and still chose to reply to me. That’s saying something, right? Divine intervention or some shit like that? It was easy enough to track her down to the Ozark Apartments in Boston's North End. Luna moved in a couple of months ago to apartment twenty-three on the third floor, but I couldn’t find anything else about her other than that. Before living in Boston, it seems likeLuna Stirlingnever existed. I ran her name through several of my databases, and no one by that name was living in the area or in America, for that matter. So, she must have paid someone to wipe her history, or she simply fell from the sky, like the angel she is.
Luna currently lives alone and isn’t in a relationship. I knew she wasn’t in a relationship because I broke into her apartment. There has been no sign of a man or partner in her life for the last couple of weeks, as evidenced by the cameras I installed in her apartment, which tells me she’s not seeing anyone.
My mind goes back to the night I decided to see her apartment in person. I saw on my camera that cops were at her apartment, and when I pulled up my police scanner, dispatch warned of a possible peeping tom in the area. My heart flipped in my chest, and I had to get to her to make sure she was safe, but when I got there, I found her fingeringher pussy.
Luna gets off on the thought that someone’s watching her. If that isn’t a sign from the universe we’re meant to be, then I’m terrible at reading signs. She’s perfectly fucked up just like me, and since then, I’ve been watching her movements. Luna has developed quite a routine. She does the same thing almost every day: She gets up, goes to the gym, goes to the grocery store, and then goes back home. She deviates very little from her set routine, which makes my job of stalking her that much easier.
I look up from my phone, watching my cameras intently, waiting to see her. The cameras I installed in her apartment are tiny, no bigger than a grain of rice. Yet they offer 4K camera quality, allowing me to see every inch of her apartment in real time and in high definition. One camera’s positioned in her bedroom, facing away from her bathroom, and concealed in an air vent. Another is in her kitchen, sitting in a plastic pot on the windowsill. The last is in her living room, hidden atop her TV, giving me the best view of the entire apartment.
I turn on the bedroom camera and zoom in on her. She’s still sleeping, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Luna’s alarm starts to go off at seven on the dot, and she’s startled awake, turning over and turning it off.
Good morning, angel.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my excitement, but I can’t contain myself. Today’s the day that I will talk to her at the gym. It’s time I take our relationship to the next step, and my heart’s beating out of my chest at the thought. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into her flesh. I bet she was as soft as a fucking pillow, and tasted like the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever get.
