Page 46 of Venice Vampyr: The Beginning

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.