by Tina Folsom
“Your house?”
He nodded. “Yes. Or did you think you married a pauper? This is and Dante’s and my house. We’ve lived here all our lives. Come, I’ll show you to my chamber.” He cleared his throat. “Our chamber.”
Isabella swallowed hard and placed her shaking hand in his outstretched palm.
Chapter Thirteen
Not even the warm bath a servant had prepared for her could calm Isabella’s nerves. She tried to piece together the things she’d overheard, but nothing made sense. What did Raphael want from her, and what did he want from Massimo? Did he really believe she was under Massimo’s command? She’d always hated the man, even when Giovanni had still been alive. She hated the way he snuck around and considered her house his own, how he ordered her servants around and pretended to be the master of the house whenever he visited.
For anybody to think that she would do his bidding was ludicrous.
She won’t find out. Raphael’s words still echoed in her mind. What was he hiding? Was he a gambler? Did he already have a wife somewhere else? What was it that he didn’t want her to know?
Clearly, he hadn’t married her for her money. As she perused his bedchamber, she couldn’t help but admire the rich furnishings, the expensive rugs, the beautiful paintings. Everything in his possession fairly screamed of wealth. Her own home looked like a pauper’s in comparison. No, it wasn’t her money he wanted.
Which brought her back to Massimo. What did Massimo have that Raphael and his brother wanted? She had never really figured out what Massimo did. But she’d always hated the fact that when he came to call on them, he would take Giovanni with him, and they’d be out all night. Giovanni would come home disheveled and exhausted. But not once had he answered her questions about where he’d been.
Isabella slipped under the covers of the large bed and forced her eyes shut. Somehow she would get through this. Tomorrow, she’d go back to her own house and try to figure out how to extricate herself from this situation. Maybe she could appeal to the Doge and ask for protection. Protection from her own husband? What would Venetian society say? No, she couldn’t make this public. What if Raphael made it known how he’d taken her in that public archway in full view of a stranger? Her reputation would be in shreds, despite the fact that she was married.
No, she couldn’t enlist anybody’s help. She was alone in this. Alone and frightened of her own husband. A stranger, a man she knew nothing about.
When Isabella heard the door open and footsteps on the floor, she knew Raphael had come to join her. Since he’d led her into his own bedchamber and not given her a separate one, she’d known he’d be joining her eventually. She would feign sleep so he would refrain from ravishing her again. Surely, he must have had enough for tonight after what he’d done in that archway.
A rustle of clothes confirmed that Raphael was getting undressed. Moments later, he slipped under the covers and instantly pulled her into his arms. He was naked.
“Mmm, you smell amazing.” He nuzzled at her neck, planting small kisses along her pulse. She let out a breath. “So you’re still awake. I was hoping you would be.”
“I’m very tired,” Isabella answered, hoping he would leave her alone. She didn’t want him to touch her when she knew something was wrong.
“I know, my angel. Are you sore?” His hand slipped to the place between her legs that instantly started throbbing.
“Yes, yes, I’m sore,” she lied and wished he’d remove his hand so her body wouldn’t turn wet and needy.
But instead of leaving her alone, Raphael pulled up her chemise. She didn’t have a night rail, so she’d decided to wear her chemise instead to have some sort of protection. It appeared that her new husband didn’t care for it.
“Let me make it better then. Now, let’s get you out of this.” He tugged on the chemise and lifted her toward him, then pulled the garment over her head.
“But,” she protested. Hadn’t he heard that she told him she was sore? Would he not give her reprieve?
He put his finger on her lips. “Shh, Isabella. I won’t penetrate you. I’ll merely soothe your flesh. I would be a poor husband if I didn’t take care of my wife’s needs.” Then he stroked his hand over her hair. “You’ve pleased me tonight, more than you can know. To see you in such ecstasy, to watch your passion, to feel it surge through my body. You amaze me with your generosity.”
She heard his words, and they were colored in admiration. How could he be the same man she’d overheard talking to Dante, the same man who’d admitted to his brother that he was using her? Her chest tightened, and a feeling of despair swept through her. She tried to hide the tiny sob that stole from her lips, but he heard it nevertheless. And misinterpreted it.
“My love, you don’t have to be ashamed of what we did. Nobody will ever find out. You’re my wife, and I’ll protect you from all others.” He let his hand trail to her full breasts, palming them gently. “You were so beautiful tonight. Your bosom pushed out of your bodice, your skirts lifted, your pink pussy glistening. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. And to know that all this is mine and mine alone, it makes me proud.”
He was making love to her with his words. She didn’t understand it, but her body responded against her will. It heated under his caress as his hand moved lower and stroked over her belly. She gasped when his fingers tangled in her triangle of curls.
“Yes, you were so responsive,” he continued in his soft voice. “Your honey was so plentiful, it engulfed my cock, and I’ve never known a more welcoming home for it. Even now, just thinking about it, I’m so hard, I’m ready to burst.”
God, how she wanted this man even though she feared his motives, feared what he was planning. But she had to fight him, fight her own body. She tensed.
“Don’t be scared, Isabella. I promised you, I won’t penetrate you tonight. I don’t want to damage your sensitive flesh any further. But when your flesh is soothed again, I’ll take you and plunge my cock into you so deep I’ll be touching your womb.”
She let out a moan, unable to keep it inside her any longer.
“Yes, you like that. You like my cock. I could tell by the way you sucked me today.”
How was she supposed to resist him when he brought her body to boil, when he sent those delicious sensations through her with just a few words, while his hand rested almost innocently on her sex? He was barely touching her, yet her pleasure spiked and drove her body higher.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?”
She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Take the ache away.”
“Yes, my angel.” Raphael made his way down her body and spread her thighs to settle in between them. Then he dipped his head and licked his hot tongue against her moist petals. And with every lick and every kiss, the pleasure in her body built. Forgotten was the conversation she’d overheard and the implied threat within it. All she felt was Raphael’s eagerness to give her pleasure and make love to her.
Within seconds, she felt the heat in her body spiral out of control. His tongue was relentlessly lapping against her pearl, turning it hard. With every lick and every pull, little explosions ignited in her belly.
Isabella buried her hands in the bed linen, grabbing the fabric in her fists as she fought against her own body’s reaction to him. But there was no fighting what he did to her. He gave her pleasure and catapulted her into a world of bliss without asking for anything in return. It made his intimate ministrations even sweeter. When his lips closed around her center of pleasure and tugged, she let go and allowed herself to surrender to him. The waves that followed lulled her into sleep.
The last thing she felt was Raphael pulling her into the curve of his body, pressing her back against his chest, whispering into her ear, “I’ll never hurt you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Raphael woke in the early afternoon with Isabella still tucked into his chest. She hadn’t moved all night, and it pleased him. He’d felt her apprehensi
on the night before and feared that she regretted what they’d done. That’s why he had made love to her with words alone. He didn’t want her to feel regret. He wanted her to know how much he appreciated what she’d given him.
Despite the things Dante had said, he wasn’t going to let anything get between him and his wife. Not even his hunger, a hunger he’d felt immediately upon waking. He hadn’t fed since the night he’d nearly drowned, and could now feel his body craving the blood it needed to sustain itself.
He would have to feed tonight. Not from the lovely neck of his beautiful wife, who still slumbered in his arms, but from a stranger. Because about one thing Dante was right: he couldn’t ever let her find out that he was a vampire. She would run from him. And he didn’t want to lose her.
By the time Isabella woke, Raphael was dressed and had arranged a meal for her. He knew she would be hungry. When he joined her in the dining room, which was kept in relative darkness by keeping the shutters closed but every candle in the room blazing, she had almost finished her plate.
He took a seat opposite her. She appeared nervous when she looked at him, her eyelids slightly lowered as if trying to avoid him. Was she still embarrassed by what had happened the night before?
“Shall I prepare a plate for you?” she asked and made a motion to get up toward the small buffet one of his servants had prepared.
“Thank you, my love, but I ate while you were still asleep.”
How long he’d be able to hide from her that he wasn’t eating, he had no idea. His vampire body only tolerated blood and liquids but never solid food. He would have to come up with all kinds of excuses so Isabella didn’t become suspicious.
“Oh. I’ve never slept that long.” She blushed a delightful pink.
“I exhausted you last night.” He paused and noticed how she lowered her gaze even further as her cheeks turned darker. “And I’m planning to do it again tonight.” He ignored her shocked gasp. “Now, eat. So you’ll have your strength.”
He loved rattling her, making her lose her composure. Yes, most of all he loved peeling away those layers of proper lady she piled so high onto herself, because underneath was a woman who harbored raw passion and unbridled lust. Just the way he liked it.
“When will we return home?”
“Do you not like it here?”
“Your house is very luxurious, very grand. But I have a business to run, and all my things are at my home.”
It was a fair reason. He couldn’t argue with it. Besides, in order to find out more about Massimo, who surely would want to intrude on her again soon, it would be better to remain at her house. “Very well, my angel, we’ll return to your home tonight.”
“Why not now?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why the rush? Do you hate it here so much?”
Isabella hastily shook her head. “No. Of course not.” But her expression said otherwise.
“It’s Dante, isn’t it? You don’t like him.” Not that his brother was the most charming man. He could be downright annoying when he set his mind to it. And clearly, he had his reservations about Isabella, and maybe she’d picked up on those 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 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.
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nbsp; 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 flesh 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 of their fucking, 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 impatient 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.