I’ve heard a lot about sex, how it can be good, how it can be bad, how it’s messy, and how it’s wonderful. I wasn’t prepared for how beautiful a man would look with his cock buried inside me, or how strangely delicious it was to feel the stretch and burn of his thrusts.
I really wasn’t prepared for how vulnerable Laz looks as he thrusts carefully, covering my mouth with desperate kisses, and fisting his hands in the sheets.
“Bambi. Baby,” he moans, staring between us at the place where we’re joined. The thickness of him is almost shocking.
He pulls out suddenly and shimmies down between my thighs. “I need to make you come again,” he says, licking me urgently.
Pleasure shoots through me. My sensitized flesh is craving his touch, and he gives me what I need without mercy. My legs shake as my orgasm approaches, and he grips my thighs hard and doubles down. I remind myself to be careful, not to be loud, but then remember where we are and that I can do whatever I want.
I throw my head back with a loud cry and give in to my climax completely.
Laz moves up my body, and the moment I open my eyes, he plunges into me again. I gasp and wrap my legs around him.
“Can I cum in you?” he asks with a groan, and I nod and capture his face in my hands. I want to see what he looks like in the final moment. I bet he’s beautiful.
Laz groans harder and ups the speed of his thrusts, pulling all the way out and then plunging in again. That must feel insanely good for him because his cheeks flush and his breathing grows harsher. Then he thrusts deep and quickly, his tempo rising until he suddenly cries out.
“Fuck, Bambi.”
I feel his whole body go rigid and his cock spasm. Then he slumps slowly down on his elbows and kisses me woozily.
I twine my fingers through his, my left hand and his left hand, and our rings clink softly together. There’s a fierce longing in my chest. I want this man all to myself. I don’t want to share him with anyone.
“Was it a good first time?” he asks, pulling me tighter against him.
“The best,” I whisper, stretching luxuriously and fanning all of my toes.
“I’m glad, my beautiful wife.”
We order room service and eat burgers and fries with ketchup in bathrobes while looking out over the city. Only crawling into bed and settling down to sleep in each other’s arms when our eyes are heavy.
I’m so glad I ruined Mom’s party is the last thing I think before I fall asleep.
In the morning, I wake in Laz’s arms and nuzzle closer to him. He murmurs sleepily, wraps his arms tighter around me, and kisses the top of my head. “Good morning, wifey.”
I laugh against his chest, giddy that the fantasy isn’t over just yet. Laz pulls me tight against his hips and I feel how hard he is.
“Let me wash your hair,” he says, stroking his fingers through it.
I wriggle against his erection, still feeling too sleepy to get up. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in bed?”
“I can fuck you in the shower,” he points out.
And just like that, my pussy is one awake bitch.
The bathroom is huge and luxurious with a walk-in shower that has multiple jets. While he lathers up my hair, he asks me silly questions, like what my favorite odd food combinations are.
“Peanut butter and pickles,” I reply.
“You weirdo.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s your odd combo?”
“I like dipping Oreos in juice, but that’s not weird. That’s practically gourmet.”
“Ewww.”
He tickles me, and I screech like a pterodactyl I’m laughing so hard.
It’s not until he’s rinsing the conditioner from my hair that his cock bumps against my ass and I remember his promise of shower sex. I wriggle against him until he’s nestled into my ass.
Laz groans and kisses my neck. I’m so turned on and wet that when the plush head of his cock slips between my lips, he slides right in.
My palms land flat against the tiles, and I walk my feet apart. One of his large, tattooed hands lands next to mine, and I stare at how perfect we look together as he carefully thrusts into me, his lips against my ear.
“Are you sore, Bambi?”
I shake my head, the water flowing down my skin and around the place where he’s thrusting deep inside me.
Laz groans and starts to fuck me in earnest, his powerful body making smacking sounds with every thrust. I arch back into his grip on my waist.
My clit is right there, and I play with myself, rubbing hard in time with his thrusts. My eyes are closed, and I feel surrounded by Laz. Cocooned by him. There’s only him and me, the sound of rushing water, and the ecstasy that’s building inside me.
I come in a joyful rush, the water cool against my hot skin, and then revel in the sensations of Laz pounding me with pure abandon and coming with a groan in my ear, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of this moment.
Because it’s over too soon. The water is turned off. We dry off and get dressed. There’s no packing to be done as we didn’t bring anything with us, so we share a final kiss behind the closed door, and then leave it all behind.
We hold hands as we ride the elevator down and check out. When we pass through the front doors out into the fresh air, we let go of each other.
Laz casts me a look that’s as wistful as I feel as he digs the valet ticket out of his wallet and his Camaro is brought around.
Back home.
Back to Laz being my stepfather.
Back to shitty reality.
“Where the hell have you two been?”
The moment we enter the house Mom confronts us with tired, angry lines around her eyes. She probably had too much wine, barely any sleep, and she’s still in a rage from yesterday.
Her gaze darts from me to Laz and back again, preternaturally sharp, like she’s watching a replay of last night’s events just by looking at us.
Behind my back, I pull the ring off my left hand and stick it back on my right. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to act. I totally freeze.
Laz shrugs casually. “Mia was upset after the cemetery. She didn’t want to come home, so I took her to a hotel.”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. So, we’re not bothering to lie? I thought Laz would spin a tale about his car breaking down in the woods and us shivering under our jackets all night or something.
“Why on earth would Mia be so upset about something that happened years ago?”
“Maybe you should ask yourself that question, Giulia. You’re the one who nearly took yesterday away from her.”
Mom glares at him and turns to me. “You’re only eighteen. You’re still in school and you stayed out all night. I was worried sick.”
I pull my phone from my bag, but I haven’t missed any calls or messages. “I didn’t know you were worried. You didn’t call.”
“I’m your mother, Mia. Of course I’m worried.” She turns to Laz. “A man with a reputation like yours shouldn’t be spending the night alone with inexperienced young women.”
“Whatever, Giulia. I took my stepdaughter to the cemetery, and then to a hotel and screwed her.” His voice is dripping with scorn even though that’s exactly what he did do. With a shake of his head, he turns toward the kitchen. “Who wants coffee? My head is going to explode.”
He saunters off without waiting for a reply, leaving Mom and me staring at each other.
“I have my eyes on you, young lady.”
My stomach lurches. Can she smell it on me, the sex I had with her husband?
“If I find out that you had anything to do with my party being ruined, I will throw you out of this house so fast your head will spin.”
I almost sigh with relief. Oh, yeah. That. Her bringing up the party reminds me of what I overheard between her and my uncles. “It’s too late to get rid of me now. Nineteen years too late.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “Have you been eavesdropping on my private conversations?”
“It’s not really eavesdropping if I’m standing in the hall and overhear you against my will. You and my uncles were talking about me at the tops of your voices.”
Her mouth works like she’s trying to spit out something bitter. “I can’t keep you in line any longer. My brothers have been saying for weeks that you need a husband to control you, but I thought it would be better if you finished high school first. As usual, they were right.”
“Like they were right that you should have got rid of me? Maybe you let me be born, but you banished me from your heart a long time ago.” I throw back at her, and she’s astonished that I’m talking back to her.
Then she’s livid, and seethes, “You ungrateful child.”
Laz has heard us arguing and he’s standing in the doorway. “Giulia, she’s eighteen. She’s too young to get married.”
She shoots him a haughty look. “I was engaged at seventeen. I ate my leftover birthday cake the night before I was married.”
“And look how well that marriage turned out for you,” he shoots back.
“How dare you! Who are you to lecture me about marriage?”
While they argue, I try to slip away.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady? I have things to discuss with you. Are you going to drop out of school, or would you prefer the wedding to take place after you’ve graduated? Personally, I don’t know why you’re still attending classes.”
I stare at Mom. I’m still attending classes because I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Maybe I’ll attend a community college once I’m out of here. I don’t have the grades for the Ivy League or any of the decent schools, but I still want my high school diploma. “Don’t tell me you’re serious about me getting married?”
Mom gives me a tight, unfriendly smile. “I’m deadly serious. I’ve had enough of you coming and going as you please and defying me at every turn. We can figure out the details later. Meanwhile, I’ll start making calls.”
And with that, she turns on her heel and walks smartly upstairs, an expression on her face bordering on spiteful.
She knows I ruined her party.
She can’t prove it, but she knows, and this is how I’m being punished.
“Laz,” I whisper, my voice shaking with emotion. “I don’t want a husband, especially not one that Mom chooses.”
He comes toward me and palms the nape of my neck with his large hand, staring deep into my eyes. “Over my dead body are you getting married. It’s not happening.”
“What are we going to do?” I’m amazed how natural it suddenly feels to say we. How good it feels, too.
Me and Laz.
Against Mom.
Against the world.
“I’ll think of something. Meanwhile, try not to worry too much. Just focus on school.” Laz darts a quick look around before taking my face between his hands. “And on me.”
He covers my mouth with his in a searing kiss that I feel right down to my toes.
“Come on. I’ll make us that coffee.”
Over the next few days, I live in fear of men arriving unannounced at the house bearing engagement rings. I overhear Mom on the phone asking people about their unmarried sons and brothers. She’s got a list on her tablet, and she makes notes as she talks. How much this man earns. How long this one has been divorced.
If I don’t sign the marriage certificate, I can’t get married. I remind myself of this over and over. It’s not like Mom has any leverage over me apart from throwing me out of this house, and I’ve been half expecting that would happen anyway.
Everywhere I go in this house, I see Laz or am reminded of the night I spent with him. His voice rumbles from downstairs when I’m in my room. His scent lingers in the air when he’s not there. I often hear him whistling to himself or playing rock songs on the radio when he’s working on his car. There’s only one man on earth that I’d even consider marrying, and he’s married to someone else.
Miserably, I imagine a future in which I’m married as well, and Laz and I both sneak around behind our partners’ backs. I hate it. I’m already racked with guilt half the time, and I take no pleasure in knowing I’m stealing someone else’s man. Yet I can’t help wondering when I’ll next feel Laz’s powerful arms around me and his tongue in my mouth.
I’m in the middle of some history homework when my bedroom door opens and Laz enters. He’s wearing a loose dark gray shirt with his black jeans, and the soft fabric looks so good against his muscles and accentuates his strong throat.
I wonder if he’s about to tell me Mom’s set my wedding date when a heated smile slips over his lips. He’s here for something else.
Me.
Laz takes my hand, pulls me to my feet, and kisses me.
“What—”
“Your mom’s out,” he murmurs between hungry kisses.
Shit, shit, shit. This is so sordid. This is so messed up. But I can feel myself getting hot and wet as his hands rove over my body.
“You let me raw you, baby. You’re a risky bitch and that was so hot it’s all I can think about. I need to see you brimming with my cum again.”
“I’m not risky. I’m on the pill.”
He pulls back. “You’re on the what?”
“You heard me.”
“But you were a virgin.”
I shrug. “Plenty of women take the pill to regulate their periods. Plus, it stops my skin from breaking out.”
Laz frowns at me. “Stop taking it.”
I laugh, wondering if I heard him right. “What?”
“You heard me. I want to raw you properly.”
I glare up at him and hold up fingers as I speak. “One, are you crazy? Scratch that. You’re definitely crazy. Two, I could get pregnant. Three, are you freaking crazy?!”
He grins and hooks a finger into the neck of my T-shirt, dragging me closer. “That’s so sexy. Say I could get pregnant again.”
I swat his hand away. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I hear you loud and clear, Bambi.” Laz lets go of me and starts going through the drawers in my bedside table. Then he moves on to my chest of drawers, pawing through my underwear and socks and feeling right to the back.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for your prescription so I can throw it out.”
I don’t keep my pills there, so I just fold my arms and watch him scattering panties about. As the minutes pass he grows increasingly annoyed.
Finally, he rounds on me. “Where are they?”
“You are unbelievable, Lazzaro Rosetti. I’m not telling you where my pills are, and I’m not going to stop taking them.”
His smile grows wicked. “C’mon. You love being bad with me.”
“That’s not bad, that’s insane! I could get pregnant.”
He groans and slants his mouth over mine. “That’s so hot. I want you pregnant. Have my baby and let’s run away together.”
I try to tell him off, but he grasps the nape of my neck and parts my lips with his tongue, invading my mouth with the determination of a man who’s going to get what he wants.
When he fists the waistband of my shorts and pulls them tight against my clit, I moan into his mouth. “You’re too much.”
“I’ll ease it in. I’ll be gentle.”
He starts to pull my shorts and underwear down. “I’m not talking about your dick. I mean your everything. Your attitude. Your ego. Your crazy ideas.”
Laz gets me out of my clothes and cups my ass in his large hands, pressing me against his hard cock. We’re going to get caught. We’re so going to get caught, and we’re going straight to hell, or to the bottom of the lake with concrete boots or wherever terrible people go when they do things that are really bad.
And wrong.
And twisted.
Laz presses kisses to my throat, and putting his lips against my ear, he says in a hot, breathy murmur, “Let me fuck you in your bed while your mom is out. I want to blow my load in this pretty snatch of yours.”
Mom could come home any minute. I picture myself bent over the mattress with both hands over my mouth while Laz screws me firmly and thoroughly from behind, his large hands gripping my waist. The fact that we could get caught, the idea of doing something so reckless, has short-circuited my brain.
He walks me back toward the bed, and I know that as soon as he unzips his jeans he’s going to be inside me. My core turns molten at the thought as we fall back together on the mattress.
My phone buzzes next to my head and I glance at the screen out of the corner of my eye. There’s a message from Mom. Well, shit. This can’t be good.
“Wait a sec,” I tell Laz breathlessly, and pick my phone up and hold it up before my face.
Please wear your red slip dress at dinner on Wednesday night. Put some makeup on and do something nice with your hair.
Why? I send back, though I think I already know the answer.
Fabrizio Rosetti is coming to dinner with one of his bachelor friends. Drago Lastra.
I must look horrified because Laz grabs my phone from me and reads the screen.
“Drago Lastra?” he exclaims, his voice ringing in the silence of my bedroom. “That fucking predator?”
“Who’s Drago Lastra?”
His lip curls. “Only one of coldest, most vicious bastards I’ve ever met. Jesus Christ, your mom must know his reputation. It’s like she wants you to get eaten alive, the cruel bitch.”
I swallow hard. “Maybe she does. I think she hates me because she knows I ruined her party.”
“That stupid party.” He takes my phone from my hand and tosses it onto the nightstand. “That goddamn woman. I don’t want you thinking about either right now.”
He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, makes a V with his forefinger and middle and points them in his eyes. “Focus on me.”
My gaze drifts down his perfect, tattooed body.
God, if he insists.
He pulls off my T-shirt and his jeans and then we’re naked together, pressed against each other tightly with our legs tangled together.
I capture Laz’s face in my hands and whimper, “Fuck me like I’m yours.”
He drives his thumb into me, and then draws it out, spreading my wetness all around. Then he takes his cock in his hand, lines himself up at my entrance, and thrusts deep inside me.
“You are mine.”
I feel the truth of those words at my very core and all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.
His.
