Venice Vampyr (Venice Vampyr #1)

thin chemise, and the aroma that had drifted into his nostrils had almost made him spill, so strong was the scent.
    So delicious that it made his fangs itch despite the fact that he’d fed plenty before his unexpected nocturnal swim. He’d have to restrain himself so as not to bite her and drink her blood. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. All he wanted for tonight was to sate his carnal urges and make this angel come apart in his arms until she collapsed, unable to move another limb. Maybe then she would understand that she couldn’t risk her life anymore by jumping into canals.
    The thought of what she’d done still made him shudder. If she were his woman, he’d never allow it. He’d never let her out of his sight for fear something bad could happen to her. He’d protect her day and night.
    Raphael stopped his thoughts. Why was he being so possessive about her? She wasn’t his–in fact, she would never be his. It would only be a short affair, during which he’d be lucky enough to call a woman like Isabella his own, a woman who looked at him now, her eyes full of desire. He wouldn’t disappoint her. She would experience ultimate pleasure in his arms tonight, even if it cost him his last breath.
    He dropped his head to her breasts and let his tongue lick over one nipple, then the other one. She arched toward him. With an appreciative grunt, he sank his lips onto one breast and sucked the hard little nubbin into the depths of his mouth. His hands weren’t idle either. They palmed her gorgeous globes and gently squeezed the firm flesh. Despite her generous proportions, she fit his palms perfectly. Just as he’d thought.
    The nipple in his mouth tasted more delicious with every lap of his tongue over it. God, he couldn’t get enough of her warm flesh, nor of the woman beneath it. As he switched to the other breast to lavish the same attention on it, he quickly glanced at Isabella’s face. Her flushed face was framed by her long dark hair, strands of which clung to her glistening skin.  Her eyes were half closed, her long dark lashes resting against her skin. She’d captured her lower lip between her teeth.
    Raphael smiled. “My angel, there’ll be no holding back tonight. Whatever you feel, I want to hear it.”
    Isabella’s eyes flew open, pinning him with a surprised stare. “But it’s not decent.” Her voice was breathless.
    “There’s nothing decent about what we’re going to do tonight. So, let go and show me who you are.” He wanted to see the passionate woman beneath the proper exterior, the courageous woman who’d recklessly risked her own life to save his.
    Again, he sucked her nipple into his mouth and tugged on it.
    “Oh!” she yelped.
    “That’s it, angel,” he praised and moved lower, nibbling his way further south. When he reached the top of her drawers, he pulled on the strings and loosened the garment. Without effort, he freed her from it, laying bare the treasure beneath.
    And what a treasure it was. Her dark curls glistened with her honey. Without coaxing, she spread her thighs, and he accepted the invitation and settled between her legs. He planted small kisses on the dark thatch of hair, then placed his hands on her thighs and urged her to part them further. She twisted under his grip. His mouth moved lower and hovered over her moist cleft.
    “You shouldn’t do that,” Isabella said.
    He looked up and met her gaze. “Do you not like it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Surprise hit him. “Your husband never—?” He let the question hang in the room.
    She shook her head. “He taught me what to do to him. But he never ... it’s not clean.”
    What kind of husband had he been? Taking his own pleasure, but not giving her the same in return? Raphael inhaled sharply, taking in her enticing scent. “It’s more than clean. Your scent drives me crazy, and you’d be depriving us both if you won’t let me taste you.”
    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