Page 22 of Venice Vampyr: The Beginning

“They would see how the mistress of the house was being fucked from behind like she was 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 balls deep into her. Underneath him, she panted heavily.

“Fuck me,” she suddenly mumbled, 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 ears. She was losing control and shedding the mantle of propriety, allowing herself to give into her wanton feelings, letting him satisfy her debauched needs. Yes, he was controlling her now, nobody else. Even if she was doing Massimo’s bidding, he’d make sure she would defect to his side, because he’d give her exactly what she needed.

With every thrust into her sweet depths, her pulse became more uncontrolled. Her skin perspired, and her channel convulsed around him, trying to grip him and keep him there. As the sound of flesh slapping against each other reverberated in the room and her moans mingled with his, all he could hear was his own heart. Not simply beating in the frantic rhythm he was fucking her, but telling him that whatever the outcome of all this was, he would have her, even if it meant making her one of them. One day—because he could not allow her to grow old and die.

Raphael rode her through her orgasm without giving her reprieve. As he continued pumping into her, he slipped a moist finger back to the crevice of her ass and found her puckered hole, which marked the entrance to her dark channel. He rimmed it, and it quivered.

Her mouth voiced a protest, but he ignored it, because her body was telling him otherwise. As he pressed against the rim, Isabella eased back against him, seeking, wanting this invasion. His finger slipped in one knuckle deep, and her muscles clenched, tightening around him. When she stilled, he moved his cock with renewed vigor, distracting her from what he was doing to her ass.

Isabella pushed back again, and this time, she took his finger deep into her. Slowly, he pumped his finger in the same rhythm as his cock, and her body mimicked his movements, moving back as he moved forward.

He’d never felt anything as tight as her ass. The knowledge that he’d soon take her there, that he would soon plunge his rampant cock into that forbidden hole, undid him. His release crashed over him in a torrent of sensations, and in the middle of it, he felt both her channels tighten around him in spasm after spasm.

Chapter Fifteen

Isabella placed her earrings in the jewelry box on her dresser. Before she could close the lid, Raphael gripped her wrist from behind.

“Whose is this?”

She followed his look and saw him pointing at the black onyx ring that nestled in one corner. “Mine, of course.”

Raphael pulled in a sharp breath. “Yours?” He sounded accusatory. And like a stranger, the same stranger who’d told his brother he was merely using her.

The cold blast suddenly blowing against her neck did nothing to assuage her sudden fear of him. Trying to stamp out the uncomfortable silence between them, she added hastily, “It was my late husband’s. I inherited it.”

He appeared to relax at her words. “May I look at it?”

She nodded and watched him take the ring out of the box and examine it. “It’s unusual. Is this the family seal?”

“No. I don’t think it was his favorite ring either. He rarely wore it. And then he stopped wearing it completely.” She’d always wondered what Giovanni had liked about the odd piece of jewelry. She’d certainly never liked the ugly thing. But what intrigued her more was why Raphael seemed so interested in it. Did it have anything to do with his interest in Massimo and her husband’s family? “Why are you asking?”

“Just curious since it seems to be such a gaudy piece. So you said he stopped wearing it. When was that?”

“The month before his death. He was different then.” Isabella remembered how her husband had suddenly seemed changed. He’d been distant and unapproachable. And he’d started avoiding her. She’d wondered at the time whether he’d taken a mistress. He’d stayed away most nights.

“... Isabella?”

Raphael’s voice pulled her out of the depressing thoughts. “I’m sorry, what were you asking?” She met his gaze in the mirror and noticed how intense it was. It reminded her again of how he wanted to use her. His questions about her late husband only cemented the suspicion that not everything was like it seemed with her new husband.

How she could have allowed him to take her so fiercely in the study only a short hour earlier and to explore her in the most debauched way, was unfathomable to her. But her body had reacted to him in the only way it seemed to know: with unquenchable lust. She felt her face flush with embarrassment as she relived the memory of his possession. Her nipples beaded, and she felt her skin turn into gooseflesh.

When Raphael’s fingers suddenly grazed her nape, she flinched. He pulled away and met her with a surprised look in the mirror. Then he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about him, about your late husband.”

“Why?” Her spine tingled with the unpleasant feeling of being interrogated.

He smiled at her now. “Because I don’t want to make the same mistakes in our marriage as he did.”