Venice Vampyr - The Beginning (16 page)

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine ... Maybe somebody else can advise me.” Viola turned on her heels but before she could even take one step, a hand clasped over her forearm and pulled her back. She snapped her head back to him, surprised by his boldness, and clenched her jaw.

“Signore, I suggest you remove your hand now.”

He didn’t yield to her threat. “You have no idea of the dangers out there. A woman like you shouldn’t be prowling the night alone.”

“It’s none of your business. So, unless you want to bed me yourself, let go of me.” The moment she issued her threat to him, she realized that it was exactly what she wanted. When she’d watched him beat up her companion, she’d seen the raw power in his body. But she’d also seen that he’d held back. He was much stronger than he’d let anybody see.

And the eyes that stared at her now in disbelief were the most sensual ones she’d ever seen on a man. They were a brilliant blue, which stood out in stark contrast to his black hair. His face had sharp angles, more rugged than elegant, and his shoulders seemed to bulge from his coat. He was tall, and the thought of his touch on more intimate places excited her. Where Salvatore had been handsome, this man was beautiful.

However, the frown on his face suggested that he had no intention of accepting her impromptu offer. Well, maybe her looks didn’t appeal to him. She tried hard not to take his reaction personally. But to realize that she couldn’t get this man to tumble her did put a chink in her carefully built armor.

“So let me go then,” she repeated, not wanting to hear his rejection. His face had said enough. Viola jerked at her arm, trying to get him to loosen his grip on her, but he didn’t relent.

“You want me to bed you?” he asked.

She swallowed away her surprise at his question. Was he considering it? Her heartbeat sped up. “I’ve been a widow for a while and miss the touch of a man.”

“Is that so?” His voice sounded as if he didn’t believe her. Was her story not good enough? She’d rehearsed it many times, and Salvatore had believed it.

“Well, clearly, you’re not interested. So, don’t concern yourself. I’m sure I’ll find somebody.” Where and how she would accomplish this feat, she wasn’t certain.

“Who says I’m not interested?”

Viola looked up at his face and noticed how he let a long gaze travel down her body. She shivered and wet her lips. Yes, this man was stirring something in her. For some strange reason, he was breaking through the uncertainty she’d felt when she’d been in Salvatore’s company. Despite the sweet things Salvatore had whispered in her ear, she hadn’t warmed to him. Whereas this man—

“There’s a place down this alley we can go to,” he suggested. “What’s your name?”

“Signora Costa.” Her throat felt dry as sandpaper.

“Your given name.”

Her brain stopped working under the intense stare he gave her. “Why would you want my given name?”

“Because I’d like to call out your given name when I thrust into you.”

Chapter Four

Dante let the door to the inn’s simple bedchamber shut behind him and watched as the lovely Viola took off her cloak. He hadn’t planned on ravishing anyone this evening, but he never looked a gift horse in the mouth. And Viola was more than just an unexpected treat: she intrigued him.

What had driven her to that disreputable club? She seemed too refined, too well bred for an establishment like that. Frankly, he was extremely glad having arrived there when he did, because the more he looked at her, the more he wanted to be the one to satisfy her secret desires. The thought that she’d gone out to invite trouble sent a severe chill racing down his spine.

Even as a young widow who knew about the pleasures of the flesh, she had no idea what dangers lurked outside. In his eyes, she was still an innocent. And he had a thing for innocent women. Just like he’d always tried to protect Benedetta, a girl of merely fifteen, he now wanted to protect this woman.

To a certain extent, anyway. He wouldn’t hurt her, but while he was fucking her, he would also taste her. Despite the fact that he’d fed earlier in the night, he never turned down dessert. And if her blood tasted anywhere near as intoxicating as the scent of her skin promised, it would be a very sumptuous dessert indeed.

“Well,” she said, her voice trembling in concert with her fingers. He sensed her nervousness and assumed her late husband had been the only man who’d ever touched her. Clearly, this was difficult for her.

Dante walked to her, tossing his coat onto a chair in midstride. “Let me help you with your dress.”

Viola flinched when he put his hands on her shoulders. “I can do that myself,” she stammered.

“But I would like to do it, if you’ll allow me.” He tipped her chin up with his hand and dipped his head. Her breath mingled with his, and he inhaled the scent. “I’d also like to kiss you.”

He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he pressed his lips to hers and nudged them open. Without much ado, he swept his tongue inside her mouth and issued his demand. Her answer was timid. Dante went after her tongue and growled his disapproval. If she wanted to be bedded, she sure wasn’t showing it in her reaction to him. Was he not to her liking? The thought that she might prefer Salvatore’s more elegant features to his rougher ones inflamed him.

He ripped his mouth from hers. “Kiss me back, damn it.”

Her eyes glittered with uncertainty.

“Or have you changed your mind?” He would let her off the hook if she had. He wasn’t the kind of man to force a woman.

The shake of her head was quick but determined. “No!” Just as quickly, she laced her hands around his neck and pulled him back to her.

“That’s better,” he praised and snaked his arms around her back. “Now, let’s try that again, shall we?”

Viola closed her eyes as if steeling herself for his onslaught. It surprised him. Did she see him as some kind of rough beast? Dante paused for a moment. She knew nothing about him but what she’d seen him do: violently beat up another man with his fists. Had that scared her?

“I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes flew open. “I know.”

This time when he kissed her, he gentled his lips against her soft mouth and tugged on her upper lip, then ran his tongue over it. Slowly, her lips parted. Dante continued nibbling on her lips until he heard a tiny moan coming from her. Now he understood: she wanted gentle and slow. That’s what she responded to. He could do that.

He stilled his lips. “You should have told me you wanted it gentle. Because a woman walking around dingy clubs trying to find a man for sex generally wants some frantic fucking.”

Viola gasped and seemed to want to protest, but he pressed a soft kiss onto her lips before he continued. “It doesn’t matter to me. You want it soft and gentle, I’ll do it that way. But when you want me to fuck you fast and hard, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

Her nod was barely noticeable.

Dante explored the warm and moist hollow of her mouth, swept his tongue against hers and savored her taste. She was a delicious morsel, and her gentle and measured response to his searching tongue only fed his excitement. Coaxing a response from her was a challenge, and he liked a challenge more than any other man.

The more and more he kissed her without letting his more demanding self take over, the more Viola awakened in his arms. Her hands on his neck were hot to the touch now, and her entire body seemed to radiate heat. He welcomed it and slid his hand up to the exposed skin of her shoulders. She trembled when he stroked his knuckles against her pulse, and he heard her heartbeat quicken. Her blood charged through the vein underneath his fingertips, a feeling that made his cock harden in an instant.

Yes, bedding this shy young woman would be an unexpected delight. And taking her sweet blood would make it all the more enjoyable.

Dante lowered his hand and cupped one breast, eliciting a gasp from her. He eased his lips from hers. Her chocolate eyes seemed to be even darker than before. And her lips were swollen from his kisses. He rather liked the sight. “May I help undress you?”

***

His words pulled her out of her passion-drugged state. No man had ever kissed her like that. In fact, no man had ever kissed her other than on her hand or her cheek. This was more than she’d ever expected. And she didn’t want to stop. “I want to kiss some more,” she mumbled and averted her gaze.

“We’ll kiss plenty more, I promise you. But first, take off your dress so I can touch you while I kiss you.” His eyes seemed to devour her. And the huskiness in his voice carried the promise he’d spoken.

“Will you undress too?”

He chuckled. “Would you like to help me with it?”

The thought of undressing him excited her. She licked her lips in anticipation. From what she’d felt under her hands when she’d held him close to her, Dante was a big man with strong muscles. They’d felt hard yet comforting.

“I’d say that’s a yes.” His smile was warm, and she smiled back.

He started unlacing her bodice. Since she’d come to Venice without a maid or a companion, she’d chosen a dress that she was able to put on and take off without anybody’s help. However, when she felt his fingers stroke over her torso while he loosened her dress, she didn’t mind his help in the least. She enjoyed the tingles that spread over her skin with every press of his hands. And he was merely touching her through the many layers of her garments. What would it be like once he touched her naked skin?

As Dante peeled away her bodice and let her skirts fall to the floor in a rustle, she stood before him in her chemise and drawers. She’d not worn a corset since she’d known she’d be unable to lace herself into it without help. Now she felt exposed, knowing he could see through the thin white fabric of her chemise. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“No,” he whispered, “let me see you.” He took her arms and uncrossed them. “You’re beautiful. You have no reason to hide.”

His palm cupped one of her breasts, then the other. The touch felt as if a lightning storm went through her. “I love the way they feel in my hands.” He squeezed, and her heart rate spiked.

“Oh, God.”

“It’s Dante,” he corrected. Of course, she knew that. He’d told her his name on the way to the inn. But for some reason her brain wasn’t working when his hands were on her.

“Dante,” she whispered. “I want to undress you too.”

Viola put her hands on his chest, making him let go of her breasts. Slowly, she eased button after button open, revealing a muscled chest with a light sprinkling of dark hair. In the middle of his chest it concentrated and then narrowed toward the top of his breeches. Her eyes followed the dark path.

“Yes,” he encouraged her. “Open my trousers, and take my cock out.”

Nobody had ever spoken that word in front of her, yet she knew what it meant. Her eyes drifted lower to the bulge hidden beneath the fabric. The very large bulge. Did he wear padding? She hoped so, because what the hard outline under his breeches suggested would be physically impossible, she was certain.

Viola hesitated, but Dante simply took her hand and laid her palm over the bulge. Startled, she tried to pull away, but he held her wrist and forced her to cup his erection. The flesh under her palm was warm, and it pulsated. She’d never felt anything that vibrant. Now she had her answer: he wore no padding.

“Open the buttons.”

She followed his command without thinking. Moments later, his breeches were open. He pulled them down and stripped completely. Viola averted her eyes, even though she wanted to look at him. But embarrassment swept through her. She’d never seen a man naked.

“Look at me.” Dante’s voice was calm and soothing.

She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. But he shook his head. “Look at my cock.”

She swallowed at his bold statement. How could she simply look at him in such an obvious manner?

“Please, look at my cock and take me into your hand.”

She collected her courage and lowered her gaze to his stomach, then lower. In the midst of a dark nest of curls, his shaft stood erect, curved slightly upwards, its purple veins pulsing, its mushroomed head glistening. She’d always expected men to be ugly there, but nothing could be further from the truth. His veined shaft was like a sculpted piece of art. Beautiful, proud, and perfect.

Her hand reached out of its own volition, her fingers grazing the underside of his cock. The skin was as soft as a baby’s, yet when she wrapped her hand around him, she could feel how hard he was. Like a phallus chiseled from marble.

Dante hissed. “Fuck.”

At his curse, she released him with a surprised gasp.

“No. Don’t stop. I like the way you touch me.”

Tentatively, she took him into her hand again. Then she felt his hands on her, opening the top buttons of her chemise so it easily slid over one shoulder, exposing one breast to his view. He bent his head down and licked his tongue over her nipple.

Her hand released him as she tried to deal with the new sensations crashing over her. His tongue felt warm and wet, the texture of it creating a delicious friction on her breast. Her nipple had turned hard and was aching for more. Viola threw her head back. When cool air blew against her skin, she realized that he’d pushed her chemise over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Then she felt his hands on her drawers, ridding her of those as well. She should have felt embarrassment, yet she only felt the rioting sensations he urged through her body.