Page 51 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
Twenty-five years old and untouched.
The revelation is surprising and yet, not. Hadn’t I wondered about it before?
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I should have said something earlier."
"No, don't apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry. I was moving too fast."
The heat between us hasn't dissipated, but it's tempered now by this new understanding.
Her inexperience changes things.
This isn't just about physical release anymore. It carries weight, significance.
“I… was just surprised. That’s all.”
I study her. Until I ground my cock against her, she was with me, kissing me back, letting me touch her. For a moment, she wanted me.
I take Isabella's hand in mine, my thumb tracing circles on her palm. “You enjoyed part of it, though, right? The kiss. My touch.”
She looks down at our joined hands, a flush creeping up her neck. "Yes.”
Something tightens in my chest. I've been with women since Emilia died, but nothing serious, nothing that made me feel this strange mixture of desire and protectiveness.
It’s crazy because I don’t trust her. Sure, she showed me her evidence against the family, but she hasn’t told me about the phone I saw the woman slip to her today.
And I doubt she trusts me either, yet here we are, giving in to an attraction that is dangerous for us both.
“Have you ever touched yourself in pleasure?” I ask, knowing I’ll regret indulging in this attraction.
She bites her lip, that flush turning even more scarlet. “No.”
I brush my knuckles against Isabella's cheek, watching her eyes flutter closed at my touch. "There are ways I can help you experience pleasure without rushing into everything at once.” I’m playing with fire, knowing I’m going to be burned. But damned if I’m going to stop.
"How?" she asks, innocent curiosity mixed with unmistakable desire.
"Let me show you.”
She looks up at me with wide eyes that make something primitive stir inside me.
"I'm going to touch you," I explain, maintaining eye contact. "Just with my hands. And if you want me to stop at any point, you tell me.”
She nods.
I lean in to kiss her again, slowly this time, savoring the softness of her lips as my hand slides beneath her sweater to caress her warm skin.
She sighs into my mouth, her body arching slightly toward my touch.
She may have never been touched, but her body responds without hesitation.
My fingers trace patterns across her skin, gradually moving higher, then lower, mapping her responses.
I brush my fingers over her tits, gently pinch her nipples.
“Oh!” She gasps, and her fingers dig into my shoulders.
“You okay?”
“Yes… ah… that was?—”
