Defiant (The Clans Book 6)

by Elizabeth Knox

  It’s the best kind if you ask me.

  Chapter 17

  Stefan

  As I pull her bottom lip into my moth, Presley kicks her heals off and hoists her right leg onto the bed, wrapping it behind me to keep me on top of her. My left hand finds its destination under the layers of tulle on her skirt; her skin. It is warm from being caught up in this hot material all day, and even hotter as I slide up unheeded until I can grip her muscular inner thigh which flexes under my touch.

  She doesn’t stop me, and I growl as she flips me over on my back, taking control for a moment. I only let her linger there long enough to get that view of her as she strips my jacket and shirt off, sliding my tie teasingly up and down my skin along with her perfectly manicured, blood red nails. I reach behind her back and unfasten the lacy red top she is wearing, her breasts peaking out over the strapless bra that seems to barely contain them right now. Her skin is a perfect tan, and I don’t know if she is this way naturally or of Brazil has done her a lot of favors.

  I tease at her back, my finger slipping up and down her spine as he body writhes over me, a moan escaping her lips, half faded from my passionate kisses and bites. It is a sensual dance we are doing, and I can’t believe it is happening so soon. And I am going to enjoy every moment of it in case we both regret it in the morning. Though, I doubt I will.

  I snake both my hands up her legs under the skirt, hitching both my thumbs straight into the side of her panties, pressing into her lips. She gifts me with a gasp before falling down on me and licking my lips and down my neck, leaving hot, wet trails along my skin. I press her sensitive folds harder and can feel her silky dampness progress as I continue to touch her and drive her wild.

  That’s when I use my grip to roll her back over hard onto the bed with a thud and rip off the skirt and drag her panties down to reveal the perfect pink that I am about to bury myself in. I hope she doesn’t expect some existential moment here where I tease her and make her wait so we have that perfect moment of making love. I am not after that, nor am I the type. I am hard and fast. I like things when I am in control and even more when she fights that control. So, ready or not, here I come.

  I flip her over on her belly as I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants with my free hand. A firm slap on her ass causes her to moan and arch her round cheeks towards me. I sneer and let out a dark chuckle before doing it again, the sound of the smack as my hand hits her bare ass hardening me eve more until I can’t take it anymore.

  I bury myself in her, garnering a scream as I tear into her without any warning or sign of gentleness. I reach deep, forcing her to accommodate my thick cock as her pussy squeezes around me and tries to choke me out. The heat coming from her almost blinds me as I become a creature rather than a man, my hands finding her and holding them down to the bed at a V over our bodies.

  One thrust. Two. Three. I slam her, my balls slapping pleasurably against her as she raises her ass up to meet my rhythm while my hilt finds her furthest wall and batters it.

  “Fuck.” My balls tighten, and I hold back a moment, taking in deep breaths as I just sit inside of her. I may like it hard and fast, but I am not ready to be done her yet, not at all.

  I clamber for her hair, ripping strands out along with the many bobby pins that hold it in the fancy updo I had a hairdresser come in and do for her for this day. Once it is out, I muss it with my hand and get a good grip on it, yanking it up as she comes up on all fours, ready to be ridden like a wild mustang.

  I slide out of her a little, my cock coated in her sweetness, the smell making me like a rapid animal as I rear her head back and push back in. I use the grip on her locks as leverage to pump in and out once more, just a little more controlled than I was before as not to cum too quickly. I don’t need my new wife thinking I am that guy, because, if I try, I can go for hours. I am just not up for trying because she is so hot and tight, and I want to punish her flesh with my shaft and show her who I really am.

  Her fingers claw at the bed sheets and ball into fists as I feel her body begin to shake. Then, all bets are off as I slap against her over and over in quick succession, wanting her to feel me inside of her, filling her up as she finishes.

  And as she squeezes, I grunt a guttural, feral sound, my cock pulsing to the rhythm of her. And she sighs so sensually, I remain half hard inside of her even after I have spent myself. I could go for a round two immediately if she wants.

  ***

  My toe is tapping inside of my designer shoe as I try to be present at this meeting between myself and the heads of the mafia; Mariana and Ion Petran. They have called me early this morning to their hotel to talk about what happened at the wedding the evening before, but all I want to do is go bury myself deep inside my wife again since it seems to be the only level I can connect with her.

  Not that I don’t care for her safety or getting back at the motherfucker who dared to try to have her killed, but my priorities as a new husband may be a little skewed.

  “So, you say you think this has to do with Lajos?” Ion asks, sipping on his scotch on the rocks; something I don’t even have the balls to do first thing in the morning. But he and Mariana look perfect and well rested; two beautiful people that hide the scars that are inside. Mariana especially.

  They have stepped up to the plate in a way many of us did not believe they could when Ion found her and demanded that he was still his to wed, even with her father, the original one who made the union, dead. I had been one of the men bucking against him, in fact, and I always make sure I don’t get out of line in front of him any more because I know I’ve fucked up and he could have roasted me.

  “Yes, let’s just say he failed to follow through properly on a deal, and I had to retaliate,” I say coolly.

  “I am not sure what you expected, getting involved with scum like that,” Mariana voices, shaking her head, leaning on the edge of the table rather than taking a seat with us men. Lajos does have a reputation of being just that now that more people know what type of business he has been running all these years south of the border, but he had been a good business associate in the past. I had no right to judge until he crossed over the line by letting his men touch what is mine.

  “I expect people to do what I pay them to do.” I shrug. “But honestly, his body sunk into the ocean bleeding out, I didn’t think it would be an issue. Nor did I think anyone was that loyal to him to come after me so boldly.”

  “In other words, you have no idea who could have gotten to this friend of your wife’s to have her come to the wedding and kill her,” Ion sighs.

  I nod, getting nothing out of bending the truth. I am truly at a loss with this one.

  “Then, I think it’s best that you utilize the Arcane since they specialize in things like this.” Mariana pulls a card out of her clutch and shoots it across the table to me. On it is Lorenzo Moretti’s number; one of the members of the Arcane. They are mostly an underground assassin group, hired hit men for those really sticky situations when you need someone dead who is hard to get to. From celebrities to political and underground targets, they always get the job done. “You will have to pay for their services, though. We are working out a deal with them, but it is still in negotiation phases.”

  “That is not a problem. I will call Enzo immediately.”

  “See that you do and that your wife is safe. She may not be Romanian, but she is the woman you have chosen and therefore the one who will bring about the next of the Dalca Clan,” Ion warns. I haven’t told him everything I did for a reason. Even he wouldn’t approve of the way I got Presley, but I think he knows this is not something traditional. I am also certain he knows I was supposed to be with Isabella. I am sure my father wasted no time in letting Ion in on that little fact long before he mentioned it to me as if that would solidify it. I respect Ion, but even if he were to have handed me a wife, I never would have gone with it.

  I say my respectful goodbyes and head out, pulling my phone out as I get into the car with Silva, w
ho is playing chauffeur once again.

  “How’d it go?” he asks, and I shake my head as the phone begins to ring through to the number on the card I have been given. I already know Enzo a bit, so I don’t have any problems asking him to do this I anyone is going to find out who is after me and my wife, it is him.

  Chapter 18

  Presley

  For a few days now I have kept my distance. The connection that we had on our wedding night was indescribable, but it was born out of anger and hatred. I still know him as the man who bought me on a ship where women were being used as sex slaves. Now I also know him as a mafia Clan leader, a ruthless man with a bloody past and likely an equally bloody future. My marriage to him puts me in danger, a lot more danger than I had imagined when I got on that helicopter with him where he told me that I was lucky. Lucky's clearly subjective.

  Part of me still hopes for a way out of this, but it isn't lost on me that there are some benefits to staying in this union for longer than a few days. And it's not just about the money, but the power that he might have that I could use to my advantage. Maybe I can even make up for the screw-ups of my father in the way that he presents himself to the public. In the tabloids I may look like a wild child, but I am not that girl. I do like to have a good time and live a different kind of life than they live. I don't like the button-ups and the straight lines, but I feel I am smart and have a lot of ideas that could help people. Maybe there is an amicable way that I can make some of that happen because I am Stefan Dalca’s wife.

  I ate breakfast this morning in the same guest room that I had been locked in that very first night here, still moaning uncontrollably at the quality of the food here. His chef is exquisite.

  But now I'm walking up to where he sits in the living room, seemingly having just finished his own breakfast. I think it is time that I wrap my mind around the fact that, at least for now, I am Mrs. Dalca, and that means that I need to learn to protect myself. There are many enemies that he has that have now become my enemies, and apparently have my own to add to the list considering I have unknowingly pissed off the people that I have known my whole life. if whoever these enemies are can get Heather to bring a gun to my wedding, then who else can they get to? For all I know there could even be a mole in this very building pretending to be one of Stefan’s men.

  I am not going to take these threats lying down because I am no damsel in distress. I am a southern woman with a temper that I know how to use.

  "Presley, to what do I owe this honor?" Stefan greets sarcastically, moving over on the couch so that there's room for me.

  I sit down next to him, close but not so close that our bodies are touching now, though I can't deny that there is electricity passing between us in the small gap. Probably left-over tingles from what we did a few nights back. He may be a crazy asshole, but he does know what he is doing with a woman's body.

  I ignore his sour salutation and speak what's on my mind. "I am to be married to you, and by proxy a member of the mafia, I think that I need to learn to defend myself. I need to have access to a gun and a place to practice shooting it. I need to be allowed to carry one with me in case something ever happens. I've decided I'm not going to lay down and play a defenseless damsel. I need to be able to do this for myself to feel safe here. I also want to be trained in any other kind of combat that I need to know that might save my life or set me up to better handle this kind of lifestyle. I don't pretend to know everything about it, but I am sure that there are dangers around every corner and places where you could use my extra help even if it is taboo for a woman to come along for the ride."

  I look at him, showing my vulnerability. I don't have to come to him about this with kindness and could have just tried to go behind his back to get a gun. I don't know all the ins and outs of underground criminal activity, but I'm sure it's not that hard in the middle of Rio to get an illegal gun, especially if you have the money to pay for it.

  He clears his throat and stands up. "I would say that you're right about being non-traditional, but Mariana is pretty non-traditional herself. I will make sure that you get a gun and we set up some time at a shooting range and a martial arts studio that I know of in town. I can easily rent it out for our privacy. But for now, I would like to put you at ease. You almost died while getting married, and you deserve a night on the town. What do you say you get all dolled-up pumpkin, and I will show you everything that is fun about Rio?” he offers.

  I narrow my eyes at him, hoping I can trust him to actually follow through what it was he was saying about my request. I know nothing so far about his trustworthiness other than the fact that he did double cross someone, which led to this revenge plot using Heather to get to me, but I don't know if that speaks at all for his true character because I am sure everyone involved in the mafia has double crossed someone at some point.

  God, that is so ridiculous to say- mafia. So many people in the regular world even speculate if the mafia and the mob are real at all, and here I am married to a member. So, I guess if they can traffic women, sell drugs, and look someone in the eyes when they shoot them, they can certainly buy a wife.

  He offers his hand to me like a gentleman to help me stand up, and then takes it as he gently gives me support back up on my feet again from the low couch. I have always been convinced that luxury furniture is meant for looks and not for sitting on. It isn’t practical at all.

  "I guess it would be nice to get out of the house for a while, I admit. I am itching to see something other than these walls surrounding us even if they are picturesque. It is boring to be in here day in and day out with some books to read, high-end exercise equipment, and not much else.

  “Great, I'll have us a car ready to go in 2 hours." He surprises me by bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it gently, leaving my flesh feeling warm before he walks away. I flex my hand in annoyance at its betrayal of me, appreciating his touch like that. I mean, I like how he fucks me, and tonight may be a fun night, but I do not want to get entangled with him emotionally. I don't even know if a man like him can have real emotions. Can he?

  ***

  I have already spent several days in Rio, but I will admit that the most that I have seen are clubs, bars, and the beach. When I came originally with my friends, it was for a relaxing break, and I had kept my promise to my parents to lie low. That is, until this likely highly publicized marriage. I am sure that that's been splattered all over the pages of the tabloids quite a few times by now. I haven't actually tried to look even now that I have been given a new cell phone with access to my social media and everything. I just find that, for the most part since being without it, I don't exactly miss all the negative things that I see on there.

  Our day begins with a basic tour of some of the most beautiful spots in the city. The famous sky-high statue of Jesus is one of the first. I was raised in a religious home. My parents often went to church and participated in various church fundraisers, my father always speaking out on conservative agendas, but I had never felt that strong call to faith like my parents claim to have. I saw a lot of hypocrisy in the organizations of religion.

  But it is hard to look at this great feat of architecture that shows a prophet from God looking down on everyone, protecting them, and not feel something spiritually at all. I feel a calm come over me as I look up at it in silence that I am grateful that Stefan does not break.

  He takes me to authentic and worn-down parts of the city as well as the newer spots built so that the rich and tourists felt safe. Both are beautiful in their own way.

  And then, as the sun goes down, the downtown streets fill with revelers of all ages, shapes, and sizes. I've always been told that the locals really know how to party, and they do, music and dancing down every side street we walk on. I am just enjoying the vibe when Stefan grabs my arm and pulls me tight against his chest. I slam into him, forced to look into his eyes as he begins to sway his hips to the upbeat music playing in the street.

  He has a genuine, small smile
on his face as he holds me tightly and gets me going with the rhythm. I hate this. I hate this because I am not supposed to like this man or come anywhere near falling for him. As far as I'm concerned, this union remains as a marriage of convenience; a business transaction for me to cash in on at some point. For now, I'm the wife he needed to defy his parents, and he is the husband I needed to defy mine. But he is being so sweet and trying to make me feel safe and free that it's hard not to notice that there is something redeemable and likable under this hard, luxurious shell that he must have in the life that he leads.

  He dips me, catching me only inches from the ground so that I am in a vulnerable position. He leans down and places his lips ever so gently against mine the kind of kiss that I would never expect out of this man and so different than any of the kisses we've shared so far. But just as quickly, he lets me go, and we are headed to the end of the street.

  ***

  Stefan

  As we sip our cocktails slowly and enjoy some of the local fare, I can't help but to think that I couldn't have asked for a better day with my new wife. I don't know if she feels any better about me than she did before, but I hope that the fact that she came to me with her concerns this morning is a good sign. She wants to be proactive and defend herself. And in this case, I am all for that. I did want a partner, an equal. I just didn't know the chick would want to take on the mafia lifestyle like this. But then again, it's almost as if she's been forced to since she's immediately in danger becoming my wife in the way that she did.

  I laugh at the joke she just told when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I am still waiting to hear back from Enzo to see if he has found any leads on the person who was hired Heather to take out Presley, so I do interrupt our dinner together to look at it. Instead, I find myself staring at a blocked number and the message that shocks me to my core. It is an image, one of Presley's father with someone that is not his wife. They are tangled together, their lips touching passionately, but the most shocking part is that this person he is captured in the moment with is another man.