Venice Vampyr: Final Affair (8 page)

She tried to push him away, and with him her own scandalous desire to do just what he was suggesting. Her body already responded to his salacious words, her sex clenching in anticipation of his body claiming her. And the thought that somebody could see them sent a hot flame through her core. No, she couldn’t allow this to happen.

Raphael encircled her wrists and held them to the wall, then dipped his head to where her bosom heaved. He licked his tongue over her twin swells in a low and sensual stroke and inhaled. “I can smell your arousal, my love.”

Panic gripped her. If she allowed him to do this, he would realize that she was no lady, that she was no better than a whore, because only a whore would allow herself to be ravished in such a public place. And then? Would he toss her away when he saw what she really was? A deeply disturbed woman with lusty feelings, more debauched than any whore in the city?

“Please, Raphael, let us go home,” she pleaded, but knew her voice was hoarse with the lust she could barely contain. She didn’t understand why he conjured these feelings up in her. Her first husband never had. She’d been the dutiful wife, and while she had enjoyed when Giovanni had bedded her, she’d never lost control or felt the desire to do scandalous things like those Raphael proposed.

Isabella felt her bodice loosening and realized that Raphael was undoing some of the hooks that held her dress up. She tried to protest, but couldn’t because his lips on her skin made her brain unable to form any words. When his hands pulled down her bodice by only a few centimeters, it was sufficient for her breasts to pop out of their cage. Cold air blasted against them, tightening her nipples instantly.

Greedily, Raphael clamped his mouth over one nipple and sucked, while his hand cupped her other breast and kneaded it. Isabella couldn’t stop the moan from leaving her lips, just as she couldn’t stop the liquid that pooled between her legs. “Oh, God,” she whispered breathlessly.

Her nipple popped out of his mouth, and he used his fingers to pull on it. Then he looked at her, his eyes clouded with the same passion she’d seen in him the night before. “Open my breeches and take my cock out.”

Without thinking, she followed his order while he sank his lips onto her other nipple. With shaking fingers, she reached for his flap and started unbuttoning it. Her hand grazed his hard length. His moan was so deep and loud, she heard it echo in the archway. But by now she didn’t care who would see or hear them. She wanted him, wanted his hard shaft to drive into her and claim her.

When his trousers were finally open, she wrapped her palm around him and squeezed the velvety skin covering his marble-hard manhood. She loved the feel of it, soft on hard. Two opposites, yet one incomplete without the other. So perfect and beautiful.

She felt Raphael’s hands on her shoulders, pushing her down. “Suck me,” he ordered.

Isabella dropped to her knees in front of him and found his shaft pointing right at her mouth.

“Yes, suck me like a whore. Because tonight, my dear wife, you’re my whore, and you’ll do whatever I want.”

The words should have shocked her, but all she thought of was to put her lips onto his flesh and make him beg for release. She didn’t feel degraded because he’d called her a whore. Instead, she felt powerful, because by being on her knees she would bring him to his. She licked her lips and took her first taste of his flesh.

***

Raphael’s control nearly shattered when Isabella’s lips closed around his cock and slid down on him. White hot heat surrounded him, nearly paralyzing him. He braced himself against the wall behind her, trying to steady his shaking legs. She would be his undoing.

Never had a woman’s mouth given him such instant, overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck,” he let out, his brain unable to form any other word since it had turned to the consistency of molasses. He tried to steel himself against the onslaught of sensations she unleashed on him, but to no avail.

Like a barrage of cannonballs, they plowed into him: burning him, searing him, branding him. Yes, she was branding him with her mouth, with the laps of her tongue against his hard flesh, with her breath that whispered against his length, the hands that stroked him in concert with her mouth. She was spoiling him for any other woman, making certain he would never want to be touched by anybody else, never feel another woman’s mouth on him but hers.

Like a witch, she spun her spells around him, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked on him harder, her fingernails scraping against his tight sac where his balls burned like hellfire, the pressure mounting as in a volcano. God, she would suck the life out of him if she could. And at this point he wasn’t so sure it was beyond her capabilities.

Another lick against his mushroomed head and he pulled himself out of her mouth, hissing sharply. He couldn’t take any more.

“I wasn’t done,” Isabella complained.

Without a word, Raphael grabbed her and lowered her onto the stone bench he’d seen in the corner, high enough so he could remain standing when he fucked her. Then he tossed up her skirts and reached for her drawers. With one swoop, he ripped them into shreds, ignoring her surprised look. He had no more patience than a sailor who’d spent the last months at sea.

Her arousal engulfed him. “Now I’ll fuck you, my beautiful whore! I’ll fuck you until you scream.” And with one single thrust he seated himself in her drenched pussy. She convulsed around him, making him still instantly. “Oh, yes, you love being ravished out here, don’t you?” When she didn’t say anything, he ordered, “Answer me!”

Isabella’s breathless “Yes” was more of a moan than a word. It suited him just fine. And strangely enough, it helped him gain his control back. No, this delectable, passionate woman would not gain the upper hand.

Slowly, Raphael pulled his cock from her silken heat, only to let it slide over her little pearl. She twisted underneath him, but he held her hips in a vice grip so she couldn’t escape his torture. He would make her confront her desires. Now. Here. He would break down her defenses and free the passionate woman inside her.

Not giving her any indication of what he was about to do, he plunged his hard length back into her, making her release a startled cry. “Oh, yes, never think you’re safe from my cock. Because I’ll take your wet cunt with it whenever and wherever I want.”  He deliberately used crude words to shock her, all the while sliding back and forth in her tight sheath, her honey so slick, he felt like drowning all over again. Only this time, it was a pleasurable kind of drowning.

When he heard a sound behind him, he twisted his head. “It appears we have company.” He briefly glanced at the well-dressed gentleman, who’d entered the covered archway and was looking at them.

Raphael felt Isabella’s instant reaction and recognized it as her flight instinct. But he wouldn’t allow her to follow it. Instead, he continued to pump into her sweet depths and reached for her ample breasts, which bobbed with each of his thrusts.

“When you’re done with her, I’ll take her,” the man behind him offered.

Raphael growled. “I won’t be done with her for a long time.” A very long time. “She’s mine for the night. I bought this whore, and I’m going to make certain I’ll get my money’s worth.” He grinned at Isabella when he noticed her shocked face. “So, no, you can’t fuck her, unless, of course, she consents.”

Isabella’s protest was instant. “No!”

Raphael chuckled. “As you can see, she only wants my cock. But if you care to watch, step closer for a better view.” He didn’t care whether the man watched or not, but he would never allow him to lay one single finger on her. Isabella would not be shared with anybody. But while her mask provided her anonymity, and him as well, he would drive her lust higher by the knowledge that they were being watched.

The man’s footsteps confirmed that he’d accepted his offer. Raphael could see how he stood only a short distance from them to the side, so he could see both Isabella’s naked breasts as well as her cunt and how Raphael’s cock plunged in and out of her.

“She has a beautiful cunt, this whore, don’t you think?” he asked the stranger as he sliced back into her heat, kneading her breasts in his palms.

But the man didn’t answer. From the corner of his eye, Raphael could see why: the man’s hand had freed his own cock. Hard and thick, it strutted from his breeches as he now pumped it in his right hand.

“I see you agree,” he commented and brought his attention back to Isabella, who’d followed his glance. Her mouth dropped open.

“Yes, he’s stroking himself, wishing it was your hot cunt he’s pumping into. Does that excite you?” He delivered a hard thrust, and she snapped her gaze back to him, dropping her lids as if in shame. With another thrust, he jolted her. “Oh, no, you won’t turn away. I want you to watch him watch you as I fuck you.” Her eyes went wide behind her mask. He knew she wanted to watch, but was too ashamed to admit it.

He pinched her nipples hard until she cried out, her lips quivering, her breath at a fever pitch. “Now watch him. But remember, it is my cock that’s inside you. My cock that fills you.”

He wanted to possess her, every cell of her. And he wanted the whole world to know she was his, his to drive to ecstasy, his to pleasure. His body set his rhythm now, plunging deep and hard into her with long strokes.

He noticed her pull her lips between her teeth as she watched the other man stroke his own cock. Raphael heard the grunts the man let out, but he only saw her, his beautiful angel, ecstasy written all over her body. He released one of her tits and dropped his hand to her pearl. She snapped her head back to him as he rubbed his thumb over it. A moment later, she cried out, and her muscles clamped around his cock, igniting his own climax.

His seed shot from his balls through the length of his cock and exploded from its tip, pumping into her channel, flooding her with it. But he barely noticed any of it as his entire body was gripped by his orgasm, shaking him to the core. Nothing had ever felt as raw and earth-shattering as the consummation of his marriage.

Chapter Twelve

Raphael kicked the door to his home shut with his foot even as he cradled the sleeping Isabella in his arms. He’d removed their masks and tossed them shortly before they’d reached his house. He carried her into the parlor and laid her onto the large sofa.

“You brought dinner. I guess that’s the least you could do after making me worry about you,” his brother’s voice droned from the corner, where he sat in his favorite wingback chair.

“Dante, I was hoping you’d be home. We need to talk.”

His brother rose from his chair, his long legs eating up the distance between them without effort. “Yes, that we do. But after dinner.” He glanced down at Isabella. “Have you tasted her yet? She looks positively delicious.” Dante licked his lips.

Raphael blocked his brother from approaching her. He would have liked to give Dante the news in a less abrupt way, but the cad didn’t leave him any choice. “She’s my wife. And you’ll do well keeping your hands and fangs to yourself. As well as your dick.”

“Your wife?” Dante’s voice filled the entire room. His doubtful look would have been amusing if Raphael didn’t have other things on his mind—like her family connections.

“You got married?”

He couldn’t miss the accusatory tone in Dante’s voice. “That’s my own business.”

“Not when it affects us both. She’s human.” His brother squared his shoulders, but Raphael wasn’t intimidated. When he ran his hands through his thick, black hair, Raphael knew that Dante wasn’t planning on a fight. “Why in hell would you do such a thing?”

“She saved me.”

“What?”

“She saved me from drowning. Pulled me out of the canal when I’d already slipped under. She risked her own life.” There was a certain pride with which he said it. His wife was a brave woman.

Dante took a step back in shock. “You nearly drowned? What happened?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I felt a hand on my back and fell into the canal. But there were lots of drunken revelers around, a rowdy crowd. It could have been an accident.”

His brother raised an eyebrow. “What if it wasn’t?”

“Then you and our friends will help me find out who’s behind it.”

“I could venture a guess.” Dante gave him a pointed look, and Raphael knew immediately that he was thinking about the Guardians of the Holy Waters. A moment later, Dante glanced at Isabella still lying motionless on the sofa. “By the way, what’s wrong with her? What did you do, drug her?”

Raphael grinned. “Multiple orgasms.”

The laugh that followed echoed in the entire mansion. “You scoundrel!”

“Not likely—what I did was entirely proper. After all, she is my very respectable wife.” Respectable—yet with a lusty streak he didn’t mind a bit. “Now, let’s let her sleep. She’s exhausted.” He pulled his brother away toward the sitting area in front of the fireplace.

“Yes, and sore, I’d imagine. She looks petite.”

“She’s stronger than you think. And don’t worry about my wife. I know how to take care of her.” Yes, she would be a little sore from the ferocity with which he’d ravished her, but he’d make it up to her by eating her sweet pussy and soothing her flesh with his tongue soon.