“I heard a rumor about you, Miss Mia Bianchi.”
The hackles stand up on my neck as I hear the sneering voice behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know that it’s Trent Scorsese, one of my ex’s friends. Before I started dating Connor, Trent made it obvious that he was interested in me, and when I picked his friend, he turned into a salty little bitch.
I keep walking, concentrating on heading home. School just finished, and I’m in a terrible mood after thinking about one thing and one thing only all day.
My stepfather.
I wish I could cringe over our terrible behavior. That, I could probably live with. Instead, I’m remembering the intense way he looked at me in the private room at the strip club, both hands clenched tight on the seat of his chair like he was holding on for dear life.
Bambi, I want to kiss you so much.
“I said I heard a rumor about you, Mia,” Trent calls louder.
I waft a lazy hand over my shoulder, not bothering to turn around. “Yeah, yeah. You’re obsessed with me. Play another song, Trent.”
He jogs ahead of me, turns around and walks backward so I have to look at his face. He raises his eyebrows once, twice. “Something about you in a certain club.”
My steps falter on the sidewalk. He knows I’m a stripper? Or he knows about me and Laz? How? I mean, Laz was drawing enough attention to us in the club trying to pull me off stage and then hauling me out over his shoulder, but I didn’t think anyone from school was there at the time.
Trent has noticed my expression and his face lights up. “So, it’s true. I hear there’s even a picture going around, but I can’t seem to get a hold of it.”
That probably means it’s not going around, just the story that there was a photo. If the photo was in circulation, I would have seen it by now.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Trent grins, having the time of his life at my expense. “You sure? I heard Mia Bianchi knows how to work every pole in town.” He makes a fist next to his face and pushes his tongue into his cheek, miming a blow job, like his double meaning wasn’t obvious already.
A black car pulls up beside us and coasts along at walking pace. I can’t see the driver but a tattooed hand wearing silver rings is clenched on the gear shift.
Trent goes on mocking me. “C’mon, how much for a dance? Twenty? Ten? I hear that pussy is going cheap.”
The engine cuts out. A door slams. A huge, angry man dressed in black with blazing green eyes stalks straight over to Trent, grabs him by the throat, and slams him into the nearest brick wall.
In a voice burning with hellfire, Laz seethes, “What the fuck did you just say to her?”
Trent is too shocked to reply to the huge, angry man suddenly towering over him. That, or he can’t speak because Laz is gripping his throat so hard.
I grab Laz’s other hand before he can drive his fist into Trent’s face. “Laz, that’s enough. Let go of him.”
But Laz doesn’t hear me. Or won’t.
“Listen up, you sad little dribble of cum. Spread this around that school of yours. If anyone, anyone, so much as looks sideways at Mia, let alone spews the filth at her that just came out of your mouth, I will personally take them apart.”
Red-faced from the blood that Laz is squeezing into his skull and shaking with fear, Trent nods rapidly.
“Laz, please let go of him. He can’t breathe.” Laz is a head and shoulders taller than Trent and twice as broad. Maybe Trent deserves to suffer one consequence in his miserable life, but not like this.
He glances at me, then back at Trent. “You’re lucky Mia is here, or I would break your teeth. Say thank you, Mia.”
Trent wheezes something that sounds like, “Thank you, Mia,” but it’s hard to tell.
Laz doesn’t seem satisfied, but he lets go. Trent doubles over, struggling for breath. He’s dropped his backpack and Laz punts it down the street with one hard kick.
“Now, fuck off.”
As fast as he can, Trent scrambles after his bag and hightails it away.
I turn to Laz with an exasperated shake of my head. “Laz, he’s just a bully. He doesn’t matter. You didn’t need to terrify him like that.”
“Is he just a bully? Or is he a man who thinks he doesn’t have to treat women with respect?”
I haven’t got a reply to that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard one decent thing out of Trent’s mouth about a woman. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to date him.
Laz stalks back to his Camaro. “I thought so. Get in the car.”
“What are you even doing here?”
Laz grips his open car door, his expression changing from angry to troubled. “Isabel was in an accident. She’s in the hospital.”
Whatever I thought Laz was going to say, it wasn’t that. For a moment, I can’t breathe and my whole body locks up. My sister. In the hospital. Those words don’t belong together.
“I don’t know anything else. Come on, your mom’s already there.”
We drive in silence. At one point, Laz reaches for my hand, but I’m so sick with worry that I pull away.
I ask at reception where my sister is, and the staff member on duty directs me to the third floor.
I can hear Mom sobbing the moment we step out of the elevator and before we pass through the double doors into the ward. I half walk, half run down the corridor, dreading what I’m going to find when I reach Isabel’s room.
An angry voice cuts across the crying before I can reach it. “For heaven’s sake, Mom! It’s just a broken leg and a broken nose.”
Isabel’s voice, sounding strong, alive, and exasperated. I sag with relief and Laz loops his arm around my waist to hold me up.
“Thank fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
I stroke his chest briefly in thanks and detach from him, conscious even in this situation that I don’t want anyone in my family to see us touching each other. His hands leave burning hot marks on my body that only I can see.
“But your beautiful face,” Mom sobs.
I round the corner to see Isabel propped up in bed, her right leg in a cast, white tape over her nose and two black eyes. She looks like she was in a fight with a charging bull and lost.
She gives me a weak smile. “Hey, Mia. Hey, Lazzaro. Could one of you get Mom out of here, please? There aren’t enough pain meds in the world to deal with her right now.”
Laz sighs and heads toward his wife. “Come on, Giulia. Let’s go and get you some coffee.”
With a little persuading, Mom hiccups herself out of the ward with Laz at her side.
“Thank goodness she’s gone. She was ruining my buzz,” Isabel laughs to herself. Her eyes have the glazed appearance of someone who’s high on pain-relieving drugs.
Of my two sisters, I’ve always got along better with Rieta. Isabel is so much like Mom that I find it hard to talk to her sometimes, though I still love her.
“Cheer up, I’m not at death’s door.” She frowns at me, her eyes nearly crossing. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you smile lately. What’s been eating you?”
I give her a tight smile. “I’m fine. What happened to you?”
“A truck ran a red light. I smashed right into him.” She mimes a T-bone accident. “I didn’t know you could break your nose on an airbag. But seriously, Mia. What’s been up with you lately? Or, like, the last five years. The weight of the world is on your shoulders or something.”
I swallow, hard. How can she not know? Doesn’t she see how Mom treats me? How this entire family acts like I’m invisible most of the time? There’s recrimination in her tone, like being unhappy is my fault or I’m wallowing on purpose.
Isabel gives me a knowing look. “High school blues. Boy trouble. I remember it well.”
“Isabel, that’s not—”
There are footsteps behind me, hurrying closer, and Isabel perks up when whoever it is appears over my shoulder. “Rieta. I guess you’re the pretty one now, for a few weeks, anyway.”
I stand up and step away from them as Rieta exclaims and Isabel once again describes the accident.
Right behind Rieta is Laz with Mom at his side. She’s holding a cup of coffee and though she’s deathly white, she’s stopped crying.
I lock eyes with Laz. He makes a beeline for me, and we stand silently together with our backs against the wall as Mom and Rieta take the seats on either side of Isabel’s bed, discussing insurance policies, lawsuits, and possible plastic surgery for Isabel’s broken nose.
No one notices we’re here. It’s like we’re a couple of intruders in another family’s room.
“You’re the pretty one,” he mutters under his breath. A moment later, he shifts on his feet so that his arm is pressed against mine. “You always were.”
Five inches of my arm touching his, soaking up his heat and presence. Out in the open for anyone to see. I can’t make myself step away.
After fifteen minutes of standing in silence, Laz straightens up and puts his hand on my shoulder, announcing, “I’ll take Mia home. Isabel, is there anything I can get for you from your apartment?”
The three of them look around in surprise. They forgot about us.
“Mom will do that. She arranged my wardrobe, and she knows where everything is. But thanks, Lazzaro.”
“No problem,” he mutters, and we head for the door.
As we’re walking through the underground parking garage, I say, “You don’t correct the others when they call you Lazzaro.”
“I don’t give a fuck what those people call me.”
When we get home, Laz throws his keys on the counter and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Want to order a pizza?”
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”
His eyes narrow and his gaze sharpens, and I know something horrible is about to come out of his mouth. “What a performance Giulia made over a broken leg. I don’t think she’d carry on the same way about you, do you?”
“Thanks for pointing that out,” I seethe.
“So do something about it.”
“Like what? I’m not going to pour red wine on Mom’s favorite dress because she loves Isabel more.”
He shrugs, but there’s a dark glimmer in his eyes. “There are better ways to take revenge.”
“I’m not going to suck your dick because my family hates me.”
A wicked smile hooks Laz’s mouth. My eyes are drawn to his scar as he saunters toward me. “You are going to suck my dick, but because you crave the feel of me bottoming out in your throat.”
Desire takes a blazing swan dive through my body. I picture myself on my knees before him, his fist gripping my ponytail while he slowly and firmly fucks my face. Heat slams through me again and again.
Laz lets out a soft groan and pushes his hand through his hair. “That’s torture, Bambi. I can see you thinking about it.”
I’m more than thinking about it. I can vividly imagine it.
I can feel it.
One thing my ex-boyfriend knows about me is that I really like giving head.
Like, really like it.
Some nights I have vivid dreams about some rough, unknown man filling my mouth and throat. I can’t see anything. I can’t hear anything except for his groans. I don’t know who he is, but he has a voice like melted chocolate as he coaxes me to take him deeper. The dream is pure sensation, but I always wake up wet and gasping.
I love the act of giving head. I love that my partner is transfixed the whole time. I love the fact that for once in my life I’m holding all the power.
And I really love the fact that I’m good at it.
Not as Tasha.
As me.
“Fuck, I need a cold shower or something.” Laz turns away, shaking his head.
The memory of him standing next to me at the hospital with his flesh scorching mine flashes through my mind. I don’t want him to go.
I’m not invisible when I’m around him. I’m not a bad memory that keeps intruding. My whole life is bitter, and for once I want something sweet.
I grab two fistfuls of Laz’s T-shirt and pull him back to me. His eyes widen as my back hits the wall, and he captures my waist with his hands.
“Just shut up,” I whisper.
His lips are so close that I feel every word against my mouth. “I didn’t say anything.”
I release his T-shirt and slide slowly down the wall until I’m kneeling at his feet. Big feet in scuffed black boots, as attractively worn-in as his ripped jeans. Everything about Laz says that he knows how to have a good time. All you have to do is ask him how.
My sweaty palms are pressed against his stomach. I can feel him breathing. Waiting.
If I were a good girl, I wouldn’t be doing this.
If he were a good man, he’d step away and tell me to get up.
I guess we’re bad people because my fingers hook into his waistband, next to the button, and Laz doesn’t stop me. He probably thinks I’m hesitating. That a war is going on inside me. Should I? Shouldn’t I?
But I’ve already decided that I’m going to do this. I’m making a meal of it because the tension must be killing him. He really wants this. I knew it when he left that heart painted in cum on my sheets. I can see how much he craves it right now as the swelling in the front of his jeans gets bigger and bigger. The thick ridge at the head of his cock is visible through the denim.
Slowly, I lean forward and plant a kiss right there.
Laz groans.
I flick open the top button on his jeans.
He groans louder.
That’s right, you gorgeous asshole. Give me a groan for every little thing I do to you. His zipper needs only the slightest encouragement for the teeth to burst apart. His cock is angled to one side, thick and swollen, and a pang goes through my pussy as I imagine him buried deep in my mouth.
But not yet. I’m driving myself crazy with teasing him. I pull his briefs down, and the heavy weight of his dick swings forward.
Laz has one of the most gorgeous cocks I’ve ever seen. He’s buzzed off all his hair, making him look huge. The skin is soft and flushed pink, with a thick vein standing out along his length. I run my tongue up the underside of him, and slowly look up and meet his gaze. I can’t help my self-satisfied smile when I see the expression of utter focus and desire on his face.
I swallow the head of his cock, and he groans, curling his fist into the hair at the nape of my neck.
“Mia,” he says roughly in a voice I’ve never heard from him before, deep with need and desire. A curse and a surrender. “Mia. Fuck, yes, Mia.”
I suck him slowly up and down. He can’t stop saying my name and every time he does, my heart swells more and more until it feels like it’s going to burst.
With clumsy hands, he unbuttons my top and reveals the camisole underneath. He shoves it from my shoulders and exposes me, moaning as he runs his fingers up my breast.
A thrust of his hips, and the back of my head hits the wall and his cock slides deeper. It’s my dream. My favorite dream. The angle is just right. Laz is filling my throat so perfectly that I don’t gag, and I barely need to breathe. I hold on to his hips so I can feel their motion with my fingers as well. I wonder if you can come just from giving head. If I’d bothered to remove my jeans before I got onto my knees I could be touching myself, and I roll my hips in needy frustration.
“Horny, Bambi? I’ll take care of you in just a moment. Right now, you’re not going anywhere.”
The growl in his voice makes me moan around him.
“Your perfect lips are going to send me over the edge. I would fuck you like this all day if I could.”
I can tell from his voice that he’s hovering just on the edge of coming, and he’s slowed down his thrusts. Trying to draw it out as long as possible. But he can’t. His body is growing rigid beneath my touch as he tries to cling on, but then he climaxes with a shudder. He floods my mouth with his cum, his hips thrusting haphazardly.
Laz barely gets his breath back before he’s gripping my shoulders and gasping, “Don’t fucking swallow. Don’t spit either. Just hold it.”
He takes a deep breath and grabs my chin, drawing my face up to his.
“Let me see it, Bambi.”
I open my mouth and let his cum roll over my tongue. Laz sinks his teeth into his lower lip and smiles, his hair hanging into his eyes. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice is husky with desire. “Now, swallow like a good girl.”
I do as I’m told, looking him in the eye the entire time. Laz hooks his hands under my arms and hauls me up. My back hits the wall and his mouth descends on mine. His kiss is ravenous as he tastes himself in my mouth. His tongue delves into me and slides against my own.
I need to fuck you, the thrusts of his tongue say.
He breaks away from my lips and plants breathless, hungry kisses on my throat, my breasts. His cock is between us, semi-hard and glistening.
“I’m going to bang you with my fingers until my dick gets hard again. Should only take about thirty seconds because I’m insane for you, Bambi.”
There’s a grating of metal, a jangle of keys, and street sounds from outside, and then the front door slams. Two female voices reach us from the hall. Mom and Rieta.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I pull my camisole up and frantically button my cardigan. Laz looks more annoyed than anything else as he slowly steps back and shoves himself back into his jeans.
Reality is flooding back as I hear my mom and sister coming closer and closer. I just gave my stepdad head while my other sister is lying injured in a hospital bed. He face-fucked me into the wall. There’s acting crazy, and then there’s being plain stupid.
“This isn’t over.”
“Yes, it is,” I whisper feverishly. He’s cheating on his wife in her own house. Mom is suspicious and critical of everything I do. She’s going to find out if we carry on like this.
But Laz either doesn’t hear me or pretends that he doesn’t.
“Your lips are BJ messy,” he says as he buttons his jeans. With a wink, he turns and disappears into the hallway to greet his wife.
