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Chapter 19
Presley
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Two in the head and one in the chest.
That's what the cut out of the shape of a man laid out in front of me had to endure just a moment ago as I let three bullets go from the gun I am now a proud owner of.
This is my second time coming to the shooting range since being given this gun by Stefan, and the first time he has come with me. We both decided it'd be a good way to blow off steam.
Bang. Bang.
A shot in the shoulder and one in the lungs. If this was a real person, his lung would have collapsed the way the bullet hit. This is not my first time shooting a gun, but I am used to something like a sawed-off shotgun in my grandfather's backyard as a teen. My male cousins and my brother used to enjoy shooting it at targets anytime we would go over to my grandparents’ house which was out in East Texas with a lot of land. Then, they eventually graduated to shooting down birds, bucks, and a couple of my cousins even went to the mountains during hunting season and got some bears. That is on my mother's side, and if you ever want to see what a typical Southern family looks like, hers is it.
Somehow this gun makes me feel more powerful, though, and maybe it's also a little bit of my new last name. I can't deny that it makes me a bit of a badass.
I take off the ear muffs and put them to the side, cracking my neck and both directions and rubbing my ears. Stefan is sipping on a bottle of rum already taking his break. Though, I think he is mostly here to cop a feel as he tries to show me proper stance and all that. Hey, I'll shamelessly take it, considering a girl has needs too. Plus, I will never say it out loud, he is growing on me. Stefan brings me breakfast in bed and takes me to do things like this to blow off steam. Oh, and he did exactly what I asked him to do - put in a high-dollar offer for my father’s company that he can't refuse. And Stefan did so anonymously so that there wouldn't be a link back to me until it was too late. But that is also exactly why I need this time to blow off steam. My phone has been ringing off the hook and so has Paulo’s. Yesterday we announced officially what's going to happen to the company going forward. Not only does the press want to talk to me, but so does my family. Figures my father would find a sneaky way to get a hold of my new number.
Every sibling I have has called me, and my mother and father have both tried to reach me.
I pull up my phone, probably a mistake, and take a look at my Twitter feed.
The company will now be moving in a new direction under my leadership because my husband, Stefan Dalca, has made a generous offer to purchase. My trusted best friend and a genius with numbers, Paulo Sorrento, will now be head of Public Relations. Both of us are so excited to take this company in modern and inclusive direction.
That is the way I put it because that is the way I meant it, though it took some convincing for Paulo to come on board after what he witnessed at the wedding. But as soon as I mentioned the way I wanted to take up the LGBTQ cause, he was all for it. Now, the company is in transition, and I am certain my father is furious as are some of the employees and some of my father's friends. But there has also been an outpouring of love from the younger generations and the LGBTQ community about the way that I am going to be handling things.
The worst part of it, though, is that all the tabloid sites seem to have my past on the loop today, trying to show that I am not fit to run a company, especially one of this size. But even if this is an act of revenge, I take this totally seriously. My father's actions have affected not just him and my mother but the entire family, and while they don't know what he did yet, I am sure that one day soon they will. And it will be much less hurtful if I am already moving the company in another direction. The fallout will be more personal and less financial.
“If I'd known you brought your phone, I would have taken it away from you so you couldn't look at that bullshit," Stefan says, ripping it from my hands. I cross my arms over my chest, but it's hard to be mad at him because he is right. It's toxic to look at things like that, but I'm just so used to being connected and part of all the drama that I can't help myself.
But as soon as it's in his hand, it begins to ring, and he mutes it, sticking it in his pocket
"Your father again."
I nod, wondering what he thinks he's going to get out of that phone call. I don't think he's ready to hear from me as much as he thinks that he is. He probably thinks he's going to convince me that I am being insane and to give the company back, but I would just spew all of his lies back at him; lies that he probably thinks are locked away and kept buried deep between him and whoever that man from the photograph is.
"I don't know if I'll ever take that call. I've never been enough for my parents, and I think it's time I'm just enough for me." I don't know why I'm telling him this, probably because he is the only one here. He's pretty much my only companion other than Paulo, who is really with his own significant other now, much to his mother's delight since he’s here in Brazil more often than not.
“My parents, they wanted me to marry a perfect Romanian virgin. That is what is expected of most of us as mafia Clan leaders because they have this elitist view about the blood. They want to keep the heirs as close to pure Romanian as possible, not to mention keeping the women quiet. My parents are not a fan of what Mariana has changed about things; that she has taken power alongside her husband. But I didn't want any of that. I wanted to find a wild child to be my partner and not be below me. Because one thing I have learned is it's pretty lonely at the top."
I look at my husband strangely, never having expected him to be so open and honest like that or emotional, for that matter. I look him up and down, noticing how good he looks in normal clothes. He is all man with lean muscles, wearing a white t-shirt that shows it all off and a tight pair of designer jeans. He still has on his signature leather belt and a pair of expensive loafers. I think he feels uncomfortable out of a suit, but I certainly appreciate it. It means that I can pretend when I need to do that, we're just a normal husband and wife and he is not some mafia kingpin.
I try something new because what better time is there for it? He has this place rented out all for us for at least another hour, and while the owner of the range is around somewhere, I doubt he is hovering, especially if he knows who Stefan really is. Nobody seems to ever want to anger Stefan.
I slip my hands under the sides of his shirt and worm my way up his skin to the sides of his chest. His muscles are so strong I can't even make out individual ribs. He shivers at my touch, and his eyes go dark, and I doubt that this is going to stay innocent for very long. I still don't know everything about my husband, but what I do know without a doubt is that he has a pedal that goes from 0 to 60 in a flash. That is true of his anger and his lust.
I slide my hands back down to undo his belt, but he takes my hands and stops me there. He walks me into the opposite wall, pressing me up against the glass. His hand trails up and down my body, finding every sensitive spot and pressing just the right way. I feel my breath hitching.
He pulls down my shorts, my panties going with them, and he begins kissing down my body in an act of worship. One of the things I like about him is that no words are needed between us to solidify what we want. The heat between us is clear, and we connect on this level with no problem. Our bodies read each other like tarot cards.
His mouth reaches my apex, and I gasp as he continues, forcing my thighs to open so he can slide his tongue in between my folds. As he laps me up, my center saturated for him, I try not to think about all the women he must have done this to before to perfect his technique, but I sure am friggin glad that he did because he is an expert.
He flicks my clit back and forth with his tongue before darting inside of my waiting, wet flesh to the sound of my voice calling his name unabashedly. If the owner decides to come in on us, he is going to get a show, because I am not letting him stop for anything.
I entwine my hand in his hair and hold his head to me, draping my right leg over his back so he can have better access. He takes it up a notch with his fingers finding that sensitive spot that makes me sigh, and I thrust forward towards him and then slam my ass back against the glass. His warm breath on me only serves to work me up more as I continue to thrust towards him until I feel my legs begin to shake, threatening to come out from underneath me.
That’s when he leaves me hanging, standing up as I whimper, to my embarrassment, because I am wanting so badly to continue.
I watch him and lick my lips as he whips off his belt and unzips his pants, his cock unfurling in front of me. He lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his as he plunges inside me. For a moment, I am shocked at how strong he is with his ability to hold me up on him, but as he presses me back up against the glass and presses his shaft inside, I am lost to the sensations.
My hands grasp at the glass behind me, trying to hold onto something tangible and leaving streaks and fingerprints all over it as if to prove what we’ve done in here. I sigh into him and let him just take control as he fills my insides with electrical pulses. I forget about the world around me because it means nothing when he is pounding into me. I will admit that no man has ever made me feel like this before; no number of one-night stands or college flings, not even a serious boyfriend of which I have had a few.
“Are you gonna cum for me, pumpkin?” he growls out, slamming into me so hard I swear I can feel it in my chest. “I want you to cum for me.”
“Mmm,” I moan, tightening around him as he continues. Then, I can’t stop saying his name and begging for him to not stop as he hits my g-spot over and over until I am putty in his hands.
