Page 34 of Isabelle’s Forbidden Love

He dipped his head to her breasts and licked over the dark nipples that peeked through her bra until the fabric was virtually transparent. Then he dropped down to his knees and pulled down her panties until they pooled at her feet. She stepped out of them, most likely already guessing what he wanted to do.

Drawn to the scent of her arousal, Orlando pressed his face to her pussy, inhaling the rich aroma that mingled with the scent of vanilla and orange. He closed his eyes and moaned, before he gripped her right leg, lifted it up and laid it over his shoulder, so she could rest it there. Now she was open, and he could see the glistening pink folds of her pussy. He dipped lower and licked along her inviting slit. She tilted her hips to give him better access, confirming that his caresses were more than welcome.

“Yes, Orlando, please.”

Her voice was but a whisper, and the breathless sound sent a shiver down his spine into his tailbone. He was glad that he was still fully clothed, otherwise he would already be thrusting his cock into her, pinning her to the wall. He told himself to be patient, because the reward was worth it. He wanted to show Isabelle that he could be a considerate lover who made sure that his woman was completely satisfied. Besides, he loved licking her. She tasted like a rainforest after a downpour, fresh, alive, and like a flower about to bloom for the first time. He knew he wasn’t her first, but he hoped against all odds that he would be her last. That she would never want another man to touch her. And that could only happen if he fulfilled all her needs and made her hunger for more. Just like he hungered for more.

He hummed against her heated flesh and used his fingers to open her up so he could lick over her clitoris. The tiny organ was swollen. He lapped over it with the juices he’d collected on his tongue. Isabelle let out a strangled gasp, and he knew he was on the right track. He continued to caress her clit, gradually increasing his tempo and pressure. Her movements as she rocked against his tongue told him what she needed from him, and he followed her unspoken instructions. Beneath his hands and lips, he could feel her body tense, her breath coming in rapid pants, her skin perspiring, her heart beating rapidly.

When she suddenly shuddered under his mouth, he slowed his caresses and allowed her to enjoy the waves that lashed at her, before he continued with an increased tempo to make her climax a second time. This time, he drove his middle finger into her sheath and felt her muscles clamp around his digit as she orgasmed.

Isabelle breathed heavily. “Oh my God.”

Wordlessly, Orlando lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he laid her on the sheets. While he undressed as quickly as he could, Isabelle watched him from under half-closed lids, her lips drawn up in the kind of soft smile only a satisfied woman could conjure up.

When he was finally naked, he joined her on the bed, his cock now aching from the need to be inside her. Isabelle pulled him down to her, her hands on his hips, her legs spread wide. Without breaking eye contact, he drove his cock into her to the hilt, shuddering at the tightness and wetness of her sheath.

He sighed while he moved inside her much slower than the previous night. Tonight, he wanted to feel everything more intensely, didn’t want to rush anything. And he wanted Isabelle to feel every rock-hard inch of his cock.

“You feel different than last night,” she said with a sensual smile.

“Different good or different bad?” He slowly withdrew from her pussy, only leaving the tip of his erection inside her.

“Different even better.” She pulled him by his hips, forcing his hard-on back inside her. “Oh yeah, different much better.”

He smirked. “So you lied last night when you said you didn’t want tender.”

She put one hand on his nape and pulled his face closer to hers. “So did you. You said you’re not a tender man.” She shook her head softly. “But you are.” She caressed his nape.

“You found me out.”

Orlando slid his mouth over hers, kissing her, while he continued sliding in and out of her in a slow tempo. He’d always loved making love slowly. But in the decades since Margarite’s death, he’d changed. He’d lost that tenderness. Didn’t want it anymore. The women he’d fucked since then, he’d taken hard and fast, not allowing any emotion other than lust to surface.

However, Isabelle had somehow managed to get past his defenses and unlocked that part of him that he’d kept hidden for over four decades. He didn’t want to analyze what this meant. All he wanted right now, was to feel alive again. And in Isabelle’s arms, he felt alive. She made him want so many things, things he’d buried long ago: the need to have a woman drink from him. To feel that connection again, to feel that closeness.

He severed the kiss, but continued thrusting his cock in and out of her warm pussy.

“Isabelle,” he murmured and looked into the green pools of her eyes. “Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Would you bite me please?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. He saw a moment’s hesitation in her, and a cold hand seemed to wrap around his heart and squeeze.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he said quickly, but then he felt Isabelle stroke over one side of his neck.

“I loved the taste of your blood when I healed you,” she said, while her eyes turned to molten lava, and the tips of her fangs peeked from between her parted lips.

The sight made his cock jolt in anticipation of the pleasure she was about to grant him. “I loved every second of you licking my wounds. If we’d been alone then…”

The way she looked at him now made him realize that she’d felt it too, even back then: the desire that had almost incinerated the living room of her parents’ house.

“I’ve dreamed of it every night since,” she confessed. “But you looked at me as if you wanted to kill me for doing that.”

“I was frustrated, because you made me so hard, and I couldn’t act upon it. Not in front of everybody.” He thrust harder into her now, and faster too, because the mere recollection of that night tested the borders of his self-control.

Isabelle let out a breath, and with it, her fangs extended fully, a clear sign that she wanted what he was offering.