by Tina Folsom
She snapped her head in his direction, but he’d already left. What in hell was he planning?
Chapter Nine
Dante waited for Viola, his long black cloak slung around his shoulders, the girl’s cloak in his hands. He needed to get out of the house. If he stayed under the watchful eye of his brother and his sister-in-law any longer, he’d never get to kissing the girl and starting her education in the carnal arts.
It was time to remind her of what they’d done the night before—not when he’d penetrated her without much preparation, but when they’d kissed. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d liked the kissing part well enough.
He picked up her scent even before she exited the dining room. Just as her blood had tasted different when he’d licked it off her temple, her scent had something foreign to it. Something that made him want to protect her. He didn’t understand his strange sentiment. After all, he was a self-proclaimed rake whose only interests lay in fornication and imbibing in rich blood until he felt the same kind of high drugs would produce in humans.
When he laid eyes on Viola as she resolutely swept into the foyer, his protective instinct toward her increased even more. The aura he sensed around her seemed fragile and in stark contrast to the sharp tongue she wielded against him so easily. Not that he minded. He’d spar with that tongue any day—or night.
Dante cleared his throat and pushed his thoughts back into the dark recesses of his debauched mind. “There you are.”
“Where are we going?” Her voice was assessing.
He took a step toward her and secured the cloak around her shoulders, tying the ribbon under her throat. Then he dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Exploring.”
Before she could protest, he swept her outside into the night. Minutes later, he secured a gondola and a gondolier who promised him a smooth ride through the canals and a discrete look in the other direction when necessary.
Dante helped Viola into the gondola and squeezed onto the comfortable high-back bench next to her. She was a dainty thing, yet his massive proportions assured there wasn’t an inch of space between them.
As the gondolier pushed off and navigated them down the canal, Dante made himself comfortable and slid his arm around Viola’s shoulders to press her closer to him.
“Signore!” she protested.
He dipped his head to hers. “Please call me Dante. I’d hate for you to scream ‘Signore’ when you come apart in my arms. Now, enjoy the ride.”
She didn’t respond, and he didn’t expect her to. For now, all he wanted was for her to enjoy the tour. Since she’d admitted that she was staying in a hotel, she was not native to Venice. It had given him the idea of taking her on a little sightseeing tour along the picturesque canals. Even at night, she would be able to see many of the magnificent mansions and palaces the city was famous for.
As he started pointing out different buildings and retold little anecdotes about the inhabitants, he felt her relax next to him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how she looked at many of the impressive homes with awe, her mouth open in obvious admiration. Illuminated on the inside by massive chandeliers, Dante and Viola caught glimpses of the grandeur inside.
“Beautiful,” she whispered.
Dante was pleased with himself. Viola seemed to enjoy the gondola ride. It was part of his plan to show her that life was worth living, that there was beauty and excitement all around her.
When she suddenly shivered next to him, he pulled her closer. “Cold?”
She nodded, and he reached for her folded hands. They were like ice. He cursed himself. Just because he didn’t feel the cold as severely as a human would didn’t mean he could forget about her well-being. “I’m sorry, Viola.”
He opened his own cloak.
“No, you’ll be cold then,” she protested.
“No, I won’t. Come.” Before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms and settled her on his lap. He scooted back onto the bench before he closed his cloak over both of them.
“But—”
He killed her protest by pressing her closer to his chest, keeping his own arms inside his cloak, away from prying eyes. “This way we’ll both be warm.”
“Is that why?” She tilted her chin up in challenge.
“There’s a second reason.”
“Which would be?”
“Did you like it when I kissed you last night?”
She dropped her lids at his question but said nothing.
“Do you want me to kiss you again?”
An almost unperceivable nod was the answer. Excitement coursed through him. He hadn’t misread her the night before. He had another chance. “Then lift your head and offer me your lips.”
She did just that. But instead of stealing a passionate and demanding kiss, he pushed back his hunger for her and only lightly brushed his lips against hers. They were almost as frozen as her hands. He nibbled on them, stroking over them with his hot tongue in an attempt to warm her.
***
Viola closed her eyes and savored the gentle touch. Dante was different than the night before, less urgent, less demanding. Gentler, softer. Yet in no way less intoxicating. She breathed in his rich scent, a mixture of musky cologne—the same she’d smelled in his bed—and a deep earthy and leathery scent.
His lips were tentative against her, merely touching lightly, barely pressing against her. A frustrated moan escaped her. She wanted him to kiss her the way he’d kissed her the night before.
“Something wrong?” he whispered against her lips.
“No.” She couldn’t very well tell him what she wanted. Instead, her hands went to his shirt and pulled, forcing him to put more heat behind the kiss. Hadn’t she just told him she was cold? Did he think his little timid kiss would get her warm?
When she pressed her lips against his mouth, a startled moan came from his throat. Suddenly, he angled his head and nudged at her lips, requesting entry with his tongue. On a relieved sigh, she parted her lips and welcomed him.
Her hand dug into his shirt to hold him close to her so he wouldn’t stop too soon. In seconds, his kiss had turned from innocent to demanding. Instantly, she felt heat build in her belly and ripple through her body, reaching all her cells. She relaxed into him, melted against his mouth and tongue, opened up for him so he could explore her more thoroughly. All the while, her hands stroked him through his shirt. She marveled at the hardness of his muscled chest and the warmth his body radiated. She wanted to soak up all of it and cocoon herself in his warmth and closeness.
When his hand moved up the side of her torso and reached the underside of her breast, she gasped into his mouth. But he didn’t stop. On the contrary, he increased the demand in his kiss, making her forget where she was.
His hand cupped her breast and gave it a soft squeeze. She yelped and pulled away from his mouth. “No, not here. People can see.”
“Nobody can see what I’m doing under the cloak,” he assured her and took her mouth again, stifling her next protest. As if to underscore his statement, he tugged on the bodice and managed to free her breasts, letting the material bunch just under them. It now provided a shelf on which her breasts rested for him to do with as he pleased.
“Dante!” She tried to tell him that it wasn’t decent but he kissed her again. With every kiss, she was less able to resist him. Her body seemed to melt more and more with every second he exerted this sweet torture on her.
When his hand brushed over her breast and grazed her nipple, a bolt of lightning shot through her core. It liquidized everything in its path and left an unknown ache behind. Viola writhed under his touch, trying to soothe the want his touch left behind.
“Easy, my sweet,” he cooed and nibbled kisses along her neck while his fingers teased her naked flesh, turning her nipple into a hard peak. “I’ll give you what you want.”
How could he know what she wanted when she didn’t know it herself? All she knew was that she didn’t want him to stop touching her. So when
his hand left her breasts and lowered to her waist, she protested. “No. Please. I want—”
His hand squeezed her thigh, the warmth flooding through her making her forget her thoughts. “I know what you want.”
Did he? She hoped so, because she was burning up. Her insides were aching, the place between her legs throbbing with desperate need. Her heart beat frantically, and her lungs burned as she panted.
A moment later, she held her breath. Dante’s hand traveled down her leg and scooted under her skirts. Panic gripped her. “What are you doing?”
“Making you feel good.” He nibbled on her ear, biting on it lightly. The sting distracted her from the movement of his hand, but only for a moment.
When his fingers suddenly reached the apex of her thighs and tunneled underneath her drawers, she gasped at his boldness. “Dante,” she whispered, less in protest and more in encouragement, for his fingers had reached the dewy moisture that was oozing from her. She tensed when she felt him probe at her cleft, afraid of the penetration that had hurt the night before. She froze, steeling herself against the pain, but nothing happened. He’d stilled his fingers.
“Shh,” Dante breathed into her ear. “I won’t enter you. I just want to feel your wetness and caress you.”
Slowly, Viola relaxed against his hand. Warring emotions filled her mind. She should push him away, not allow him such intimacy. Yet, the night before she’d allowed him much more than that. She had no strength to resist him, because just like the night before when he’d kissed her, she wanted more of what he was doing now.
And wasn’t this what she’d come to Venice for? To experience the pleasures of the flesh? The loss of her virginity the night before had been unpleasant, but what Dante was doing with his fingers now felt more than pleasant. The caress of his fingers against her intimate flesh made her body heat further and her heart increase its frantic beat.
“You like that?” Dante’s husky voice unleashed another heat wave in her body.
Before she could stop herself, she admitted, “Yes.”
“I like it too. You’re so slick, so soft. And then ...” He drew his dew-covered finger further up, away from her folds to a spot just below her curls. “Then there’s this.” He rubbed against the sensitive flesh, making her gasp. “Yes, I think I’ve found just what you need.”
As he swirled his finger around the bundle of flesh that was more sensitive than any other part of her body, it throbbed even harder than it had earlier. She felt more moisture oozing from her core. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and she let out a ragged breath.
“So responsive,” he praised and continued his sweet torture. She felt boneless in his arms. Her thighs spread wider to allow him better access to this special place. His growl told her that he approved of her action.
As if to thank her for it, his caress became more urgent, the pressure harder. Something was happening. Her body tensed, both in fear and in anticipation. She didn’t know what to expect. Viola only knew one thing. “Don’t stop!” she cried out.
Seconds later, her body erupted. The tension splintered into waves of unknown pleasure and delight, flowing through her in ripple after ripple. Behind her eyes, she saw an explosion of white light so intense she thought she would die. This was her end.
Chapter Ten
For the second night in a row, Dante carried Viola into his house. While she’d been unconscious the night before, this time she was merely asleep. After he’d brought her to climax in the gondola, she’d collapsed against his chest and drifted off to sleep. And all he could do was smile as he looked at her peaceful face. This was the first time he’d seen her completely at ease and relaxed. And he liked the sight. A lot.
His ears perked up when he heard his brother’s voice. But this time, he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed, because Raphael’s voice came from his bedchamber. And his wife was with him. Dante blessed the fact that the two lovebirds couldn’t keep their hands off each other. For the next few hours, they wouldn’t interfere with his plans.
He quietly carried Viola upstairs to his room where he laid her on his bed. Somehow, the picture looked right: her dark blue gown contrasted against the white linen, and her long, dark hair fanned out around her head like a halo. Dante shook his head. He was getting soft. By wanting to kill herself right after she’d left his bed, she’d crushed his ego. He wouldn’t let her leave his presence until his ego was built up again and as strong as before: so it could act as a stone wall around his heart.
As he undressed her, his hands took advantage of her lush curves, caressing, cupping, squeezing everything she had to offer. After what she’d allowed him in the gondola, he could see no wrong in it. When she finally lay on his bed in the nude, he stripped himself of his clothes and joined her.
The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly and provided a comfortable warmth. He’d instructed a servant to ensure his room was well heated. He wanted her to be comfortable without the benefit of thick bed covers. Because what he had in mind was best done lying on top of them.
“Viola,” he whispered to her and planted small kisses along her mouth.
Finally, she stirred, her eyelids opening but a sliver. “Hmm?”
“Your lesson in the pleasures of the flesh isn’t over yet.” It was only fair to give her a warning. Then he slid down her body and put his hands on her thighs, pushing them apart. He settled in the space he’d created for himself.
Viola reared up. “What?” Suddenly fully awake, her eyes wide, she stared at him in shock. “Where are my clothes?” She tried to cover herself with her hands, but he pushed them away.
“If you remember, I’ve seen everything before. So, there’s no need to cover up. Now lie back and enjoy.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut again, her eyes searching his face for a long moment. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but something was going on in that pretty head of hers. When she finally lay down again, he sank his mouth onto her sex.
He inhaled deeply, wanting to drink in the enticing flavors of her body. Her curls tickled his mouth, so he shifted lower until his lips aligned with her moist cleft. Whether she was still wet from when he’d made her come in the gondola, or whether she’d creamed again because he’d stripped her naked, he couldn’t tell. But she was wet, her honey dripping from her slit.
Dante sensed her muscles tense as if she was afraid he’d hurt her. But he had no intention of doing so. All he wanted was her pleasure, merely to stroke his ego of course, he told himself.
He stuck out his tongue and lapped against the moist female folds, parting them in the process. Her plentiful juices ran over his tongue, igniting his taste buds and setting his body on fire. She tasted like a spring morning, fresh and innocent.
“Oh!” Her panted exclamation pleased him, and the fact that she relaxed her muscles at the same time was confirmation that she wanted him to continue. Not that he would have stopped at this point. The restoration of his ego was too important. And besides, licking her delightful cunt made him as hard as a board and stiffer than a morning breeze.
The delicious morsel he feasted on had no idea about the effect she had on him, and he wasn’t about to tell her. No, he’d never wanted to give a woman that kind of power over him. Most likely, his reaction to her was only temporary anyway. The only reason he felt this turned on by her was because she’d bruised his ego and made him needy for her approval. Once this issue was dealt with, she’d represent no temptation for him.
He’d had more experienced women in his bed—women who knew the most amazing things about how to pleasure a man. And he’d never said no. Viola wasn’t that kind of woman, and even if he taught her, there was no way she’d do the things he expected from a woman, especially one who wanted him to stick around for a while.
Viola’s soft moan drifted to his ears, and he increased the pressure of his tongue on her soft flesh. Lapping up her cream, he swiped his tongue upwards toward the little bundle of flesh he’d teased with his
fingers earlier. He’d been surprised at how responsive she’d been to his touch and how easy it had been to find the right rhythm for her to climax so violently. He could still feel the tremors that had racked her frame. And even now, he felt a shudder go through his own body at the memory of it.
Her pearl was swollen, more so than it had been earlier. When he captured it in his mouth and stroked his tongue over it lightly, she twisted under his hold, her breaths coming in shallow pants. From the corner of his eyes he could see her hands fisting in the sheets, her knuckles nearly white from the intensity with which she seemed to fight against her body’s reactions.
It only made him work harder. With one hand, he spread her wider, opening her up to him more fully. With one finger of the other hand, he teased along her slit without entering her.
Her hips rocked against him as if she wanted to force him inside her. But he didn’t give in. Instead, his tongue sparred with her pearl, the little button now fully erect. Dante shifted between her legs, adjusting his own cock that rubbed against the sheets. He was coiled like a tight spring, ready to go off at a second’s notice.
This had never happened to him, but he could come just by licking her sweet cunt. He pushed back his desire and concentrated on her body. Again, he pulled the plump bundle of flesh into his mouth and sucked. Viola let out a loud moan and bucked against him.
A second later, her body convulsed. He slipped his finger into her channel in the same instant and felt her muscles contract around him as her orgasm claimed her. Only when her body stilled, something that seemed to take an eternity, did he release her and slide up her body, cradling her in his arms.
“Oh.”
He pulled back and rolled to his side, looking at her flushed face. He found that he liked the sight more than he should. But he hadn’t forgotten his own needs. In fact, his cock throbbed painfully now. When he wrapped his hand around it and started pumping, she dropped her gaze to it.
“Yes, watch me, my sweet.” Her eyes on him excited him. “See what you do to me? You make me so hard, I can’t hold back.”