Brutal Intentions: Chapter 4

“Laz,” I whisper-moan, my head tipping back on the pillow. “Please, Laz.

.”

Sweat coats my body. My back arches up off the bed. My legs are spread wide open as golden sensations race from my clit to my nipples and then all over my body. My legs start to shake. I’m breathing harder and harder, fingers making frantic movements on my clit.

I remember his hands on my body. I can almost feel him in bed with me. His weight on me and the exact pitch of his deep voice in my ear. The achingly slow way he dragged his tongue over my tender nipples. The thrust of his hips, only this time we’re naked, and the cock that I’ve only felt through his clothes is jammed deep inside me, and he’s barely able to thrust because he’s so thick and I’m so tight and—

I cry out as my climax rocks my whole body. I come hard, my inner muscles clenching on nothing, aching for .

Aching for Laz.

My stepfather who’s currently just down the hall and in bed with my mother.

.

What am I doing?

I snap my legs closed and lift my head, struck with a sudden, guilty impulse that someone’s watching me. Listening to me. For a moment, I’m sure that I’ll see Laz standing at the end of my bed, leering at me because he’s just witnessed me making myself come while whimpering his name. Thinking about his body, his cock, his lips on mine, and his tongue deep inside my mouth.

I fall back with a moan, shame licking over me but wanting to go again. Morning light is peeking around my curtain, and it’s nearly time to get up and go to school. Thank the stars my suspension is over, and I can finally get out of this house. My pussy is drenched, and the middle finger of my right hand is beginning to prune because I’ve been at this an hour and come six times. Rubbing my clit isn’t enough. I want more, but I don’t know how to give it to myself. When I shove my fingers inside myself, they’re at an awkward angle and so shallow they do nothing for me.

I need Laz’s thick fingers and his body braced over mine, a cruel smile on his face as he slams them deep inside me, watching me writhe helplessly beneath him.

From down the hall I hear Mom’s voice, muffled through the closed doors. They’re both in the master bedroom. Mom and Laz. What if they’re screwing while I’m in here wishing he was dragging his fingers through my slippery pussy and getting his teeth into my nipples?

An even worse thought occurs to me, and I sit up, breaking into a cold sweat. What if he’s telling Mom what we did together in his car? Or how I got myself off on his fingers the night he crept into my bed? The idea of Laz being overly bothered by his conscience seems unlikely, but he could pretend he has to unburden himself just to fuck with this family. I don’t trust him one little bit.

Or someone might have spotted him sucking on my tits in his car the other day. We were down by the river, but we weren’t exactly aware of our surroundings.

I grab either side of my head and moan in horror at the thought of that gossip getting back to Mom. I’m being flayed alive by my shame. I feel even worse than I did when my uncle dragged me half naked out of Connor’s car.

“So why are you still fantasizing about him?” I whisper-shriek at myself.

But I know why. It’s because Laz is so sexy it’s obnoxious. Or he’s so obnoxious that he’s sexy. Either way, I want to punch him, scratch him, hurt him, and then have him overpower me, pin me down, and screw me senseless. The way I’ve been acting around him, he’s heard that loud and clear, and shame burns me afresh.

“I wish he didn’t know,” I moan, falling back onto the pillows. He’s been making my life hell these past few days, smirking at me and swaggering around. Making insinuations when no one else is within earshot. I wish I were someone else, anyone else, so I could just sleep with him and get him out of my system. It wouldn’t be hard because from what I’ve heard, Laz is a total manwhore. I overheard his brother lecturing him about it at the wedding. Fabrizio Rosetti told Laz he needs to man up, be a proper husband, and get Mom pregnant.

Jealously floods me from head to toe at the thought of them having that little project together. Having loads of knock-me-up sex. Taking her temperature together and doing pregnancy tests. The hope. The anticipation. Planning it all out.

I fall into a daydream, wondering what it would be like to do all that with Laz. Especially the sex. I picture my hands pressed against Laz’s bare chest while he fucks me, every thrust punctuated with a deep groan. Filling me up with his cum and then holding me like I’m the precious, soon-to-be mother of his child. Heat floods me in a great rush.

And then turns cold as reality rushes back.

Laz and Mom.

Mom and Laz.

Frankly, they’re a terrible couple. They have nothing in common. She doesn’t make him laugh. She doesn’t call him Laz. She’s never driven his—

I pinch myself, hard. What am I thinking? I’m not jealous about Laz. I hate Laz, and that hasn’t changed because he did one nice thing for me.

I kick the blankets off my legs and stalk to the shower, a hot mess of anger, frustration, and self-disgust. I never thought I would, but I can’t wait to be at school again. Mom grounded me for getting suspended, no phone, no pool, no TV, and I’ve had nothing to do but homework and reading and bumping into Laz every time I leave my room.

Literally bumping into him. I swear he positions himself around corners so that I collide with his body. Suddenly off-balance, I automatically put up my hands and grab hold of whatever’s closest for support. Every time he smirks down at my hands on his chest, I want to slap his face and then go up on my toes to kiss him.

I bet he knows how to use that tongue for a really good, slow—

I make a strangled noise in the back of my throat, turn just the cold tap on, and step under the freezing spray.

School is a welcome distraction, and I bury myself in the work. I can feel rather than hear the other students talking about me, and they grow bolder as the day wears on.

After lunch, people start making comments directly to my face. Boys, mostly. They pretend to be afraid of me, backing away and laughing like I’m going to attack them.

“Bianchi, I thought you were suspended for fighting, not attempted murder.”

“Watch out, boys, the kitten has claws.”

“More like fists of steel.”

I don’t know what they’re talking about until I catch sight of Kaleb just before the end of the day. His face is purple and yellow with bruises. He can’t have told anyone that me and Laz showed up at his house and Laz kicked the shit out of him and his brother. I suppose that doesn’t go with the pro-wrestler image the two of them are trying to cultivate. Better that everyone thinks he let me hit him.

Whatever he needs to get through the day.

Suddenly, I’m the bad girl at school. I find myself walking with a spring in my step, my ponytail swinging, and a smile on my face. My good mood only gets better when I find my sister, Rieta, waiting for me at the school gates in her red convertible.

I get into the passenger seat and give her a kiss. “Rieta, what are you doing here?”

Rieta is beautiful, with dark, coppery hair that flashes red in the sunlight and bright, tawny eyes. She smiles, and dimples appear in her cheeks. “I thought I’d take the family black sheep out for ice cream now that she’s free.”

“Mom told you I was grounded,” I grumble.

“Oh, she told me all about it, in long and lingering detail. I hope you gave that boy a black eye.” Rieta’s still smiling as she pulls away from the curb and into traffic, and I can’t help but grin as well. We both have to deal with having a type A overbearing mother, though Rieta’s had it easier than me because she’s always been a good daughter and married a successful and well-connected man.

“You and Isabel are so lucky to have me to take the heat off you.”

Rieta peers at me over her sunglasses. “You think? How many times has Mom told you you’d be pregnant by now if only you tried harder?”

I wince. Rieta and Nero have been married for a year and a half, and no baby yet. “I’m sorry it’s so hard. How are you feeling?”

Rieta sighs gustily as she turns onto the main street where all the cafés and shops are. “Frustrated. I’m doing all the right things. Taking my temperature. Sticking my legs in the air after.”

I burst out laughing. “What?”

My sister smiles at the road ahead. “To keep the you-know-what inside you after he’s finished. I feel so silly, but people swear by it. And yet, it’s not working for me. At this rate, Mom’s going to be pregnant before I am.”

And now I’m thinking about Laz and Mom again. “Gross.”

Rieta turns to me. “What’s gross?”

“Them having a baby.”

“They’re married. It’s only natural. Mia, why do you look so freaked out?”

I quickly rearrange my face and pretend to be bored by the conversation. “I’m not freaked out. I’m just . . .”

Freaked out.

Angry.

“Don’t you think she’s too old to have a baby?”

Rieta shrugs. “She’s only forty-one, and she told me she’s excited by the idea. Plus, everyone’s keen for Bianchi-Rosetti family ties to be solidified. What better way than with a baby?”

“Yes, what better way,” I agree, and yet my stomach is roiling and twisting like an angry snake in a bag.

Rieta pulls up outside the ice cream shop and smiles brightly. “Here we are. I’m going to have a cone the size of my head to make me feel better about not being pregnant. After being grounded, you must need one twice the size of your head.”

I’m staring blankly at the dashboard, lost in my own world. Mom will get pregnant. Rieta will get pregnant. Everything will be baby talk at home. Laz and Nero will fawn over their wives and newborns, two big, strong men gone all soft. A sick, envious feeling spreads through my belly.

“Mia?”

“What? Oh, I don’t really feel like any ice cream.”

Rieta’s face falls. “But you always liked ice cream after school.”

Normally I do, especially when it’s with the only person in this family who actually cares about me. I take a deep breath and smile through my nausea. “You’re right, I do want some. But can we take it home and eat it by the pool? I’ve been banned from the pool for days.”

My sister relaxes into a smile. “Absolutely. Go choose your flavors, my treat.”

Fifteen minutes later, we have our shoes off and we’re dangling our feet in the cool water as we eat our ice cream. I have a small cup with scoops of watermelon and peach sorbet. Rieta has a waffled cone stuffed with cookies and cream, death by chocolate, and raspberry ripple.

Mom emerges from the house and surveys us with a sharp expression. When she can find nothing to reprimand me with, she turns to Rieta.

“Don’t you think that’s too much ice cream for one person?”

“Dairy is important for women trying to get pregnant. And for women with pushy mothers.” Rieta nudges me conspiratorially and winks.

I duck my head to hide my smile. I couldn’t get away with talking to Mom like that, but she merely makes a sound at Rieta.

“If I get pregnant before you do, I’ll be having words with your husband. Nero can’t work all the time and expect to magically father a child.”

Rieta takes a dismal lick of her ice cream. “You probably will be pregnant before me. You’re still in the honeymoon period where it’s sex night and morning.”

Mom smiles at her, her lips plump and self-satisfied. “Yes, he’s a handful, my husband. So demanding.”

I nearly gag on my sorbet. My mother never talks this way, and it’s doubly disturbing when I remember how her husband has been trying to screw me.

“Throw the rest of that ice cream in the trash, darling. It won’t encourage your husband in the bedroom if you put on a few pounds.”

Rieta rolls her eyes at Mom’s retreating back and returns to eating her ice cream. “Throw it out? This ice cream is way too good to throw out.”

I make a vague sound in response, too preoccupied wondering if Laz has been having clandestine quickies with Mom all over this house, just out of sight. He’s never touching me again. Never ever. Who the hell is he, thinking he can screw every woman in this house?

A moment later, the man himself walks out of the kitchen, grease stains on his fingers and muscular forearms. When we arrived, he had the garage door open while he worked on his Camaro.

“Hello, Lazzaro, how are you?” Rieta asks with a polite smile.

I expect him to correct her and tell her to call him Laz, but his expression merely flashes with annoyance before it wanders over to me. He takes in my bare legs and school skirt rucked up around my thighs away from the water. “I’m peachy. You girls look like you’re having fun.”

Rieta swings her legs back and forth in the pool. “Just finding ways to deal with the weight of Mom’s expectations. I hope your baby-making efforts are going better than mine.”

I’m dawdling my little spoon through the ice cream, but my gaze is fixed on Laz, and I see his jaw clench.

He’s annoyed. What does that mean? He hates his private business being talked about? He didn’t want me to know he’s trying to knock my mother up because it will gross me out when he’s trying to fuck me?

I shove my spoon angrily into the ice cream. Too late. I’m grossed out.

“Good luck, or whatever people say,” he tells Rieta flatly. I can feel him staring at me, but I refuse to look up. Awkward silence stretches while I pretend to be absorbed in my ice cream.

Finally, he turns around and goes into the house.

“He’s not the chatty type, is he?” Rieta observes.

“Oh, he talks plenty when he’s causing trouble.”

Rieta pulls a sympathetic face. “Is it really hard living here these days? If you ever need a place to escape, you can always come to mine.”

It’s always hard living under the same roof as Mom. It’s kind of Rieta to offer her place as somewhere I can crash, but living with Nero isn’t a better prospect. He and Mom are cut from the same cloth. Both serious, standoffish people, and they agree about disliking me.

“Thanks. I’ll be okay.” Especially since I have a plan. I wish I could confide in my sister, but I can’t risk anything getting back to Mom.

“I need some water. Want some?” I get up from the pool and head for the kitchen.

“No, thanks, I’m happy with my ice cream,” Rieta calls after me.

I smile to myself as I pad barefoot into the kitchen. With a waffle cone that huge, I bet she is.

The smile dies on my lips as I turn a corner and run straight into Laz.

“Nice chat with your sister?” he asks nonchalantly, leaning against the wall and blocking my way to the refrigerator.

“We haven’t finished, and yes, thank you. Now move.”

But Laz stays right where he is. “Don’t let the gossip flow too freely.”

My expression hardens. “Meaning?”

“You know what it means.”

What does he think I’m going to do? Brag to my sister that my stepdad got me half naked in his car? That’s not girl talk. That’s self-immolation through pure shame.

“I had no idea you were dying to be a family man,” I say.

His eyes flick up and down my body. “Want to help me with that?”

My lip curls. “You’re disgusting.”

Laz’s eyes flash, and he growls. “I don’t like your tone, Bambi. Be polite to your stepfather.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll have a little chat with your mom about the way you’ve been throwing yourself at me.” He smirks like he’s remembering all the times we’ve been pressed up against each other in inappropriate ways.

“You . . .” I start to explode at the top of my lungs, before I remember what I’m fighting with him about, and where, and I lower my voice. “You asshole. Me throwing myself at you? You know it’s the other way around.”

“Who do you think she’ll believe?”

An angry flush stains my cheeks. “Emotional blackmail? Really?”

“Whatever gets me what I want.”

“And that is?”

A smile slides across his handsome face. “The sweet pleasure of tormenting you.”

So much for the other day when we almost felt like friends. I guess what he really wanted was to beat someone up. “Stay classy, asshole.”

He grabs my arm and yanks me back to him. I practically fall against his muscled chest, and I have to pull my palms back from his rock-hard abs. Jesus Christ, the man is stacked. When I’m at school, all he must do is work out.

“Now, now, Bambi,” he says with a menacing smile. “You wouldn’t want your mother finding out about how you shoved your tits at me in my car and begged me to screw you.”

A cold fist grips my heart. As much as Mom seems to dislike Laz, she’d believe him, not me. “I hate you.”

“I hate you harder.” The way he growls in my ear has my toes curling against the cold tiles.

Laz finally lets go of me and walks away, and I take deep breaths as I stare at his broad back, trying to calm my fury.

I’ll only be here a few months. Just a few more months, but I might not make it that long. I might murder my stepfather in his sleep.

“Mia?” Rieta has come in from the pool and she frowns at the expression on my face. “Is everything okay?”

Nothing in my life is okay, but I force a smile for my sister. “I’m fine. Just chatting with Laz.”

“Do you want to come over to my house and watch TV?”

Normally I would love that. Rieta’s place is just a few streets away, and her husband won’t be home for hours. He works late all the time. “Thanks, but I have to get ready for work.”

“Are you sure you should be working these shifts? Mom says some nights you don’t get home until two in the morning. It’s a weird coffee bar that makes you work so late.”

I glance guiltily at my sister, but she’s digging in her purse for her car keys. It’s not a suspicious question, just an idle remark.

With a shrug, I say, “It’s near a college. Lots of students studying late and they need frappés.”

“Oh. Okay then, have fun. I’ll talk to you soon.” Rieta kisses me goodbye and then heads for the front door, calling, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Lazzaro.”

Neither of them answers her.

I take a swig of water directly from the jug in the fridge and wipe my mouth with the back of my wrist, reliving the latest hate-filled moments with Laz.

Don’t store the way he growled in your spank bank.

But as I climb the stairs to my room to take a shower, I’m already mentally filling out a card with every detail about Laz’s pitch and the expression on his face to file away in a shimmering cabinet under .