Page 113 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

Heat floods my cheeks at being caught. I should pull away, apologize, retreat to my side of the bed.

That would be the sensible thing to do.

But something about the darkness, about the intimacy of this moment, makes me brave.

“I’d hate to wake you.”

“Honey, I’m always willing to wake up when a woman wants to fuck me.” He doesn't move, doesn't reach for me, just watches as I hover over him.

"I want…" My voice catches. I've never been this forward with anyone. Never had the chance. "I want you to teach me what you like."

His hand captures mine where it hovers above his chest. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’ve liked everything we’ve done.” His thumb traces circles on my wrist.

“I still want to learn more. Teach me, Roman."

He guides my hand lower across the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles tense beneath my touch. "What do you want to know? What do you want to touch?"

Heat floods my cheeks. "Everything. I want to know what makes you… respond."

Roman chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Men aren't complicated creatures, Isabella." He releases my wrist, giving me freedom to explore. "But since you asked so nicely…" He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Start slow. Pay attention to how I react. If my breathing changes, if I tense up, if my dick rises, those are good signs."

I’m fascinated by how his dick is already thickening, rising, and I haven’t done more than draw my fingers down his chest.

I continue on, following that tantalizing line of dark hair toward said dick.

"Like this?" I ask, emboldened by the slight hitch in his breathing.

"Just like that," he murmurs. "Now try using your nails. Lightly."

I do as instructed, dragging my fingernails gently across his skin. The way his eyes close and his body bows back sends a thrill through me.

"Feels so fucking good," he praises, and something inside me melts at his approval.

"What else?" I ask, hungry for more knowledge, more of his reactions.

Roman takes my hand again, guiding it lower. "Some places are more sensitive than others. My dick, of course, but also my balls.” He places my fingers over the soft sacs. I gently massage them, noting how his breath hitches.

I explore more, caressing the skin under the sacs, fascinated by the way his muscles jump beneath my touch, the way his breathing grows heavier.

"You're a quick study," he says, voice strained as my fingers trace patterns on his inner thigh.

I swallow hard, gathering my courage. "I want to use my mouth on you.”

Roman's eyes darken. "You don't have to?—"

"I want to," I interrupt. "Show me how."

He guides my hand to wrap around him, showing me the pressure he likes. "Start with your hand," he instructs, his voice husky. "Then use your tongue. Explore what feels natural."

My heart is racing with nervous anticipation. His skin is hot beneath my fingers as I stroke him the way he showed me.

I flick my tongue over him and then wrap my lips around his tip. The skin is velvety soft as I swirl my tongue and taste him.

His sharp intake of breath emboldens me.

"That's it," he groans, one hand gently tangling in my hair. "Just like that."

I follow his guidance, learning his body through his reactions, the tensing of his muscles, the quickening of his breath, the occasional words of encouragement that fall from his lips.