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long slide she pushed down, sheathing his hard length within her body. She welcomed the fullness.
    “Yes,” he groaned and pressed his head back into the pillow. “This is heaven.”
    Isabella smiled at his comparison and lifted up before lodging him deep inside her again. She fell into an easy rhythm, and judging by the sounds of pleasure he released and the hungry look he raked over her, he was more than pleased with what she was doing.
    When his hand came and found her center of pleasure, he rubbed against it. With every downslide, his thumb grazed the little bundle of flesh, igniting the flames in her body. She felt moisture build on her face and neck and run like little rivulets between her breasts. They ached to be touched.
    “Touch me.” She was shocked to hear herself speak in such a lusty manner. But instead of being disgusted by her wanton ways, Raphael smiled back at her.
    “I can only touch one of your breasts as you can see.” He pointedly looked at where his thumb stroked her pearl. Then his other hand captured her nipple and pinched it. “Touch your other nipple.”
    Her eyes widened in shock. She couldn’t do such a shocking thing.
    “Do it,” he ordered, “and don’t stop riding me.” He thrust his cock upward, plunging deep into her. “I want to see you touch yourself,” he continued, his voice hoarser now. He pinched her nipple again, and it turned hard. “Just mimic what I’m doing. Like this.” And again he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending a bolt of heat through her body and straight to her pearl.
    She threw her head back and did as he asked. With her eyes closed, she touched her other breast and hesitantly rubbed over her nipple. It beaded.
    “More,” he urged her.
    Without thinking, lust guiding her actions, she pinched her own nipple and cried out at the intense sensation. “Oh, God!”
    Of its own volition, her rhythm sped up, and she rode him like her life depended on it. The slide of flesh on flesh was like a symphony in her ears, and his hands pinching and rubbing her drove every sane thought out of her mind. Like an animal, she rutted on him, barely recognizing herself. She suddenly was a wanton creature only intent on her own pleasure, on finding that delicious release he’d given her earlier.
    Harder and harder, Isabella impaled herself on him. With every thrust, he drove deeper into her, filling her more. And she gripped him, not wanting this to end, not wanting him to escape. And then, with a breathless moan, she greeted the onslaught of her climax. The waves that swept over her nearly knocked her unconscious.
    She felt the heat inside her channel and realized that Raphael had joined her in release, his hot seed pumping into her, before she collapsed onto his chest.
    His arms instantly imprisoned her. His chest heaved from the effort it seemed to cost him to breathe. She felt a warm puff of air against her temple when he spoke. “You’ve slayed me.”



Chapter Eight

    Raphael had never had such an elaborate dream like this one: of angels and heaven, of ripe woman and sexual bliss. Even his sense of smell was still drugged with the scent of her, the beautiful Isabella who’d rescued him. He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten home after their intoxicating encounter. Had he taken her again after she’d ridden him into oblivion? And to think that it had been his hands and his mouth that had coaxed all that passion out of her.
    He shifted in bed and encountered lush curves and warmth so familiar, he instinctively pulled her into the arc of his body, delighted to realize that his dream wasn’t over yet. Yes, he could indulge once more, take the sleeping woman in his arms and make sweet love to her again while she slept. He could drive his aching cock into her and impale her with it until his orgasm claimed him. And then he would do what he couldn’t do to her in reality: drink from the plump vein on her graceful neck, gorge himself on