Venice Vampyr (Venice Vampyr #1)

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, alternately 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 erect 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 as if there were 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