Venice Vampyr - The Beginning
to her knees in front of him and found his shaft pointing right at her mouth.
    “Yes, suck me like a whore. Because tonight, my dear wife, you’re my whore, and you’ll do whatever I want.”
    The words should have shocked her, but all she thought of was to put her lips onto his flesh and make him beg for release. She didn’t feel degraded because he’d called her a whore. Instead, she felt powerful, because by being on her knees she would bring him to his. She licked her lips and took her first taste of his flesh.
    ***
    Raphael’s control nearly shattered when Isabella’s lips closed around his cock and slid down on him. White hot heat surrounded him, nearly paralyzing him. He braced himself against the wall behind her, trying to steady his shaking legs. She would be his undoing.
    Never had a woman’s mouth given him such instant overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck,” he mumbled, his brain unable to form any other word since it had turned to the consistency of molasses. He tried to steel himself against the onslaught of sensations she unleashed on him, but to no avail.
    Like a barrage of cannonballs, they plowed into him: burning him, searing him, branding him. Yes, she was branding him with her mouth, with the laps of her tongue against his hard flesh, with her breath that whispered against his length, the hands that stroked him in concert with her mouth. She was spoiling him for any other woman, making certain he would never want to be touched by anybody else, never feel another woman’s mouth on him but hers.
    Like a witch, she spun her spells around him, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked on him harder, her fingernails scraping against his tight sac where his balls burned like hellfire, the pressure mounting like inside a furnace. God, she would suck the life out of him if she could. And at this point he wasn’t so sure it was beyond her capabilities.
    Another lick against his mushroomed head and he pulled himself out of her mouth, hissing sharply. He couldn’t take any more.
    “I wasn’t done,” Isabella complained.
    Without a word, Raphael grabbed her and lowered her onto the stone bench he’d seen in the corner, high enough so he could remain standing when he fucked her. Then he tossed up her skirts and reached for her drawers. With one swoop, he ripped them into shreds, ignoring her surprised look. He had no more patience than a sailor who’d spent the last twelve months on a ship.
    Her arousal engulfed him. “Now I’ll fuck you, my beautiful whore! I’ll fuck you until you scream.” And with one single thrust he seated himself in her drenched pussy. She convulsed around him, making him still instantly. “Oh, yes, you love being ravished out here, don’t you?” When she didn’t say anything, he ordered, “Answer me!”
    Isabella’s breathless “Yes” was more of a moan than a word. It suited him just fine. And strangely enough it helped him gain his control back. No, this delectable, passionate woman would not gain the upper hand.
    Slowly, Raphael pulled his cock from her silken heat, only to let it slide over her little pearl. She twisted underneath him, but he held her hips in a vice grip so she couldn’t escape his torture. He would make her confront her desires. Now. Here. He would break down her defenses and free the passionate woman inside her.
    Not giving her any indication of what he was about to do, he plunged his hard length back into her, making her release a startled cry. “Oh, yes, never think you’re safe from my cock. Because I’ll take your wet cunt with it whenever and wherever I want.”  He deliberately used crude words to shock her, all the while sliding back and forth in her tight sheath, her honey so slick, he felt like drowning all over again. Only this time, it was a pleasurable kind of drowning.
    When he heard a sound behind him, he twisted his head. “It appears we have company.” He briefly glanced at the well-dressed gentleman, who’d entered the covered

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