Venice Vampyr (Venice Vampyr #1)

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