Venice Vampyr (Venice Vampyr #1)

vibes.
    “No, no, he’s nice.”
    Raphael rose and walked around to her, then took her hand and kissed it. “I want you to be happy. We’ll go home at sunset. I promise.”
    ***
    “I’m having the servants prepare Giovanni’s old room for you.”
    Raphael turned at the sound of Isabella’s voice coming from the door to the study. After returning to her house, she’d excused herself to attend to some warehouse business and left him to his own devices.
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    She graced him with a surprised look.
    “I’m perfectly happy staying in your chamber.”
    Her chest heaved, and he couldn’t tear himself away from the enticing site of the creamy skin of her breasts. The dress she wore wasn’t quite as low cut as the red gown she’d worn the night before, but it wouldn’t take much to lower that bodice and make those nipples pop out. His trousers tightened at the image.
    “But it’s not proper. Married couples have separate chambers.”
    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 pussy?”
    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, but rather, it 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 as if she were 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 into her, balls-deep. Underneath him, she panted heavily.
    “Fuck me,” she suddenly whispered, 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