Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

He stood and walked toward her, his gaze zeroing in on her plump lips. “We won’t. I didn’t marry you to spend my nights alone.” He stroked the back of his hand over the swells her neckline exposed. Tiny goose bumps formed on her skin. Then he lowered his head and placed a kiss at the line where her breasts pushed together to form a more than ample cleavage. He soaked in her scent and felt his hunger push to the forefront again. He still hadn’t fed, and until everyone in the household had retired for the night, he wouldn’t be able to sneak out and hunt for a meal. Maybe a quick ravishing would take off the edge.

Raphael pulled her fully into the study and closed the door. Her eyes went wide as if she knew what he intended to do. And maybe she did. By now, she should be able to read his face and know when sex was on his mind.

“Raphael, I have more work to do. So, if you’ll excuse me.” Isabella attempted to turn, but he merely pulled her back. His eyes darted around the room before he pulled her to the desk and bent her over it face down. “Are you still sore?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“Don’t lie to me.”

She hesitated, and he let his hand run over her ass. A hitched breath escaped her.

“I ask again. Are you still sore?”

A couple of seconds passed before she answered, “No.”

“Did you like how I licked you last night? How I ate your *?”

He sensed her heartbeat speed up and knew his talk excited her. His hand squeezed one cheek before he started gathering her skirts to pull them up. “Did you not hear my question?”

A choked breath escaped her. “I liked it.”

Raphael tossed up her skirts to her waist, then started untying her drawers.

“You can’t do this here. The servants!” Her voice sounded panicked now, but he wouldn’t be deterred. He pulled her drawers down to expose her perfectly round ass. When he stroked over it with his palm, she sucked in a breath.

Then he dipped his finger into her crevice and slid down to the apex of her thighs, where warm moisture greeted him. “So little encouragement, and you’re already wet. I’m surprised your late husband ever got any work done, considering he had to keep you satisfied.” He drove his finger into her inviting channel, making her gasp.

“You’re right, the servants can intrude on us at any moment,” he continued. “Do you know what they would see?”

“Raphael, please,” she protested, but there was no heat behind it. It rather sounded like a plea for more. A plea he was more than willing to answer.

“They would see how the mistress of the house was being fucked from behind like she was a common whore. And they’d hear her pant like a bitch in heat.” He pulled out his finger and unbuttoned the flap of his trousers. “And they’d hear her ask for more, they’d see her begging to be fucked harder, to be filled by her new husband’s hard cock.”

Raphael pulled out his shaft and guided the hard length to the entrance of her channel. “Tell me, Isabella, is that what the servants would see if they came in here?”

Her response was a mere whisper, but he heard it nevertheless. “Yes.”

With one smooth thrust he glided balls deep into her. Underneath him, she panted heavily.

“Fuck me,” she suddenly mumbled, her voice barely audible.

“What was that, my angel?” he asked even though his superior hearing had picked up the words.

“Fuck me,” she said, this time louder.

Her words were music to his ears. She was losing control and shedding the mantle of propriety, allowing herself to give into her wanton feelings, letting him satisfy her debauched needs. Yes, he was controlling her now, nobody else. Even if she was doing Massimo’s bidding, he’d make sure she would defect to his side, because he’d give her exactly what she needed.

With every thrust into her sweet depths, her pulse became more uncontrolled. Her skin perspired, and her channel convulsed around him, trying to grip him and keep him there. As the sound of flesh slapping against each other reverberated in the room and her moans mingled with his, all he could hear was his own heart. Not simply beating in the frantic rhythm he was fucking her, but telling him that whatever the outcome of all this was, he would have her, even if it meant making her one of them. One day—because he could not allow her to grow old and die.

Raphael rode her through her orgasm without giving her reprieve. As he continued pumping into her, he slipped a moist finger back to the crevice of her ass and found her puckered hole, which marked the entrance to her dark channel. He rimmed it, and it quivered.

Her mouth voiced a protest, but he ignored it, because her body was telling him otherwise. As he pressed against the rim, Isabella eased back against him, seeking, wanting this invasion. His finger slipped in one knuckle deep, and her muscles clenched, tightening around him. When she stilled, he moved his cock with renewed vigor, distracting her from what he was doing to her ass.

Isabella pushed back again, and this time, she took his finger deep into her. Slowly, he pumped his finger in the same rhythm as his cock, and her body mimicked his movements, moving back as he moved forward.

He’d never felt anything as tight as her ass. The knowledge that he’d soon take her there, that he would soon plunge his rampant cock into that forbidden hole, undid him. His release crashed over him in a torrent of sensations, and in the middle of it, he felt both her channels tighten around him in spasm after spasm.





Chapter Fifteen