Venice Vampyr - The Beginning (5 page)

Her eyes widened. “You want this?”

“More than anything.” Then he simply sank his mouth back over her warm pussy and snaked out his tongue to take his first taste. As her honey spread over his tongue and ran down his throat, his gut constricted at the lightning bolt that charged through him. He growled and licked again.

Isabella was a feast the likes of which he’d never partaken. He would even forego blood if she allowed him to gorge himself on her honey. He felt like a pirate, plundering her sweet cave of its treasures. The intimacy of his action wasn’t lost on him. He was her first, the first man who tasted her this intimately, who drank from her. A rush of heat went through him at the thought.

With leisurely ease, he lapped against her moist folds, tracing his tongue along her slit. When he moved higher, he recognized the instant change in her breathing. The moment he reached the engorged nub that rested just above the entrance to her channel, she twisted under his hold. He could feel her frantic heartbeat, hear her panting breaths. Then he licked over her little button. His name exploded from her lips as her hips bucked against him.

“That’s it, angel,” he praised and sucked the bundle of flesh into his mouth and tugged.

Now her moans and pants became more pronounced. Lick after lick he dealt her, nibbling, sucking, kissing, and devouring her sweet pussy. And with every touch she became more sensitive, reacting more urgently to his caresses. Under his hands and his lips, he felt her come alive, like a flower that suddenly started blooming.

With his fingers, he spread her wider, alternatively fucking his tongue into her channel, then sweeping it over her center of pleasure. When he felt her tense up, he doubled his efforts until he sensed her shudder. He held onto her as her body shook from her climax and drank in the cream she released, not wanting to leave the paradise her body represented.

“Raphael,” she whispered, her voice colored with disbelief and wonder.

Reluctantly, he lifted his head from her core and slid up her body, aligning his hips with hers. His rampant cock was poised at her moist channel, which still quivered from the aftershocks of her orgasm. He couldn’t resist and plunged in without a word or a sign of what he would do.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, yes.”

He nodded, the cords on his neck tightening from the effort it cost him to ward off his imminent release. She was too tight. Nobody had visited her warm and wet cave in a long time. He tried to hold back, but of their own volition, his hips drew back and plunged back in. The sound of flesh on flesh only fed his hunger for her.

“Angel, I need to fuck you hard.”

On the next stroke, she slammed her pelvis against him, intensifying his actions. Then his body’s rhythm took over, his cock thrusting into her like there was no tomorrow. All he could think of was possessing her, marking her, branding her.

Raphael looked at her face, wondering if he was hurting her with his frantic rhythm, and the sight that greeted him filled his heart with pride. Her lips were parted, her eyes dark with lust and desire. “Oh, yes, Isabella, yes!”

“Fuck me!” she whispered. Her words did him in. Never had he heard a lady utter such words, but when they came over her lips, he couldn’t help but rejoice. His balls burned and tightened at the knowledge that she gained as much pleasure from their coupling as he did.

Dropping his hand to her pussy, he pressed his thumb onto her pearl. The widening of her eyes told him he was reigniting her sensitive flesh. “Yes, once more. Let me feel you milk my cock.”

Her interior muscles clenched a second later, and his control shattered. With hot and eager spurts, he filled her tight pussy with his seed, pumping into her again and again, before he allowed himself to collapse on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows.

Chapter Seven

Isabella rested her head in the crook of his neck and breathed in his spicy scent. Her entire body felt boneless. If somebody asked her to get up right now, she was sure she’d be incapable of moving even one limb.

Raphael turned his face to her and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. It surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to have a tender side.

“And now I’d like to know what in hell you were thinking when you jumped into the canal to save me,” he said in a calm voice.

She jolted and tried to pull away from him, but his strong arms kept her imprisoned.

Isabella sighed. She didn’t want to be reminded of what could have happened, how he’d almost slipped through her arms and drowned. She would have never experienced the kind of pleasure he’d given her in the last hour.

“Please,” he added softly.

She pulled herself up and looked at him. “I couldn’t let you drown.”

“But you didn’t even know me,” he protested.

“It didn’t matter.”

“Why, Isabella? You must have had a reason.”

She swallowed back a tear that threatened to push to the surface. “My husband drowned in the canal.”

Shock registered in his eyes. Then he pulled her close to him and cupped the back of her head, pressing her against the crook of his neck. “Oh, my angel, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

“It happened almost a year ago. And I’m fortunate in many ways. But …” Her voice became thick with the threatening tears.

“You miss him,” Raphael whispered into her hair.

She nodded.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Giovanni was good to me, generous and kind. He taught me how to run his business. I think he did it merely because it amused him, not because he knew how much it meant to me. He spent lots of time with me, despite the fact that he and Massimo often went out without taking me along or telling me where they were going.”

“Massimo?” Raphael asked.

“Giovanni’s cousin. They were close. But then, about a month before my husband’s death, something changed. He started avoiding Massimo, made excuses when he came by. I had to lie for Giovanni when he didn’t want to see him. He avoided me too. Suddenly, he didn’t want to share my bed anymore. He stayed away all night. I think he might have had a mistress.”

The thought still hurt, even after all this time. “He lost interest in me. He stopped loving me.”

Isabella felt Raphael’s hand on her chin as he tilted her face up to make her look at him. “I can’t imagine how any man could ever stop loving you. I’ve never met a more lovable creature than you, my angel.” He planted a tender kiss on her lips.

“You flatter me, but I can’t ignore the truth. He was gone almost every night, until that one cold December night. Nobody knows what really happened, but by the time two footmen managed to pull him out of the canal, his lungs had already filled with water, and his heart had stopped beating. They said they were lucky to even find his body. Had his coat not gotten tangled up in some fishing hooks that hung over a moored boat, he would have drifted away.”

“So you thought if you saved me, you’d save your husband. Why?”

“I was so angry with him. I wanted another chance. If I’d done something wrong that made him pull away from me, I wanted a chance at undoing it. Don’t you see? When he drowned, I never got to ask him why he didn’t love me anymore.” She’d cried so many nights, trying to understand all that had happened.

“I’m sure there was some other explanation for him being away at night. A man married to you would not need a mistress. Believe me when I tell you that if I had you in my bed every night, there’d be no reason to ever seek pleasures elsewhere.” Raphael traced her lips with his thumb, then slipped it between them. She instantly sucked on him and saw him close his eyes. “See? That’s what I mean. With your lips on any part of my body, I would never have the strength to leave your bed.”

When Raphael opened his eyes, his gaze collided with hers. His eyes had gone dark with passion. He pulled his thumb out of her mouth and lowered it to her breast, where he rubbed his digit over her nipple.

Her breath hitched.

“I want you to ride me. You’ve got me under your thrall, and I’d like to offer my body to you. Take your pleasure. I’m here to serve you.”

His strong hands supported his words as he pulled her on top of him. Her legs automatically fell to each side of his hips, and her core aligned with his hard length. Isabella sat up and looked down to where their bodies were joined. His manhood was swollen, almost purple in color, evidence of the blood it was pumped full with. She reached for it with her hand and stroked against it.

He jerked at her touch and moaned. “Tell me, Isabella, did you touch me when I was unconscious?”

She felt her cheeks color with embarrassment.

“Please, I want to know. There’s no need to be ashamed.”

She avoided looking at his face when she answered him. “I washed you and dried you.”

“Did you stroke your hand over me like you just did?” His voice was hoarse. She snapped her gaze to him and could see excitement shine in his eyes.

Isabella nodded. “Just once.” She felt herself get wet at the memory.

“Did you touch my balls? Did you cradle them in your palms?”

She ran her hand along his shaft again, up and down. “I only let my fingertips slide over them.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

“And now, do you like it that I’m awake?”

Isabella wrapped her hand around his cock and squeezed, eliciting a groan from him. “I like it better now, because now you’re hard and big.” She pressed his shaft to her center, sliding against him so he touched that place where her pleasure concentrated, the place that throbbed uncontrollably now.

“I like it better now too,” he offered, “because now I can feel what you’re doing. Yet, the thought of what you did when I was unconscious excites me. It makes me want to do the same to you: to touch you when you’re asleep. To slip into your tight sheath when you’re not even aware of it.”

The thought shouldn’t excite her, but it did. To be taken by him when she had no defenses, no way of fighting it. To allow him such liberties with her body that not even her late husband had taken. “What would you do?” she heard herself ask.

She noticed his eyes flicker with lust. “I would slide my cock into you from behind, drive myself into you to the hilt. You would still be slick from earlier in the night. Then I’d hold onto your hips and pump into you, slowly and steadily, without any haste until you found yourself waking up.”

Isabella pressed his cock closer to her and slid up and down, the liquid heat that flooded her with every word he spoke dripping from her onto his balls.

“My angel, I can feel you weep for me.” He pumped his cock in her hand. “Ride me.”

When his hands came to her hips, she lifted herself and aligned his cock at her moist entrance. With one long slide she pushed down, sheathing his hard length within her body. She welcomed the fullness.

“Yes,” he groaned and pressed his head back into the pillow. “This is heaven.”

Isabella smiled at his comparison and lifted up before lodging him deep inside her again. She fell into an easy rhythm, and judging by the sounds of pleasure he released and the hungry look he raked over her, he was more than pleased with what she was doing.

When his hand came and found her center of pleasure, he rubbed against it. With every downslide, his thumb grazed the little bundle of flesh, igniting the flames in her body. She felt moisture build on her face and neck and run like little rivulets between her breasts. They ached to be touched.

“Touch me.” She was shocked to hear herself speak in such a lusty manner. But instead of being disgusted by her wanton ways, Raphael smiled back at her.

“I can only touch one of your breasts as you can see.” He pointedly looked at where his thumb stroked her pearl. Then his other hand captured her nipple and pinched it. “Touch your other nipple.”

Her eyes widened in shock. She couldn’t do such a shocking thing.

“Do it,” he ordered, “and don’t stop riding me.” He thrust his cock upward, plunging deep into her. “I want to see you touch yourself,” he continued, his voice hoarser now. He pinched her nipple again, and it turned hard. “Just mimic what I’m doing. Like this.” And again he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending a bolt of heat through her body and straight to her pearl.

She threw her head back and did as he asked. With her eyes closed, she touched her other breast and hesitantly rubbed over her nipple. It beaded.

“More,” he urged her.

Without thinking, lust guiding her actions, she pinched her own nipple and cried out at the intense sensation. “Oh, God!”

Of its own volition, her rhythm sped up, and she rode him like her life depended on it. The slide of flesh on flesh was like a symphony in her ears, and his hands pinching and rubbing her drove every sane thought out of her mind. Like an animal, she rutted on him, barely recognizing herself. She suddenly was a wanton creature only intent on her own pleasure, on finding that delicious release he’d given her earlier.

Harder and harder, Isabella impaled herself on him. With every thrust, he drove deeper into her, filling her more. And she gripped him, not wanting this to end, not wanting him to escape. And then, with a breathless moan, she greeted the onslaught of her climax. The waves that swept over her nearly knocked her unconscious.