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The Institute, Daddy Issues(109)

By:Evangeline Anderson


“Maybe it’s mak­ing me ready to have you in­side me, Papa,” I whispered, feel­ing dar­ing.

Salt rose from his knees and climbed into the bed be­side me.

“Is that what you want, Baby­girl?” he growled softly, look­ing into my eyes. He took my hand and placed it on the hard bulge in the crotch of his jeans. “To feel your Papa’s cock slid­ing into your tight little pussy? Filling you up?”

I bit my lip at his size and re­membered how I hadn’t been able to get hardly any of him into my mouth. And yet, I wanted this more than I had ever wanted any­thing be­fore. Wanted the con­sum­ma­tion of our re­la­tion­ship des­per­ately.

“Yes,” I whispered. “If…if you take it slow. You’re really big, Papa.”

“And you’re my sweet little girl—so tiny and per­fect. Of course we will take it slowly,” he said sooth­ingly.

“Take these off.” I tugged rest­lessly on his black t-shirt. “Please, Papa—I want you na­ked with me.”

“With pleas­ure, my darling,” Salt growled softly.

Sit­ting up for a mo­ment, he tugged the t-shirt over his head, bar­ing his broad, mus­cu­lar chest. I bit my lip at the sight of him—he was so huge he seemed to fill my whole bed­room—my whole life. I knew that I wanted him—wanted this—forever. But I couldn’t help won­der­ing if my part­ner felt the same way.

Salt stripped down his jeans and box­ers as well and I caught my breath all over again at the de­li­cious sight of his long legs and cut torso. I knew he worked out on an al­most daily basis and it really showed. But now that we were both com­pletely na­ked to­gether for the first time, I felt a little bit shy.

“What’s the mat­ter, mishka?” Salt mur­mured as I drew away from him a little. “Are you scared?”

“Maybe…maybe a little bit,” I con­fessed. “It’s just…you’re so big when you’re na­ked, Salt. I mean, Papa.”

“And you are so little and per­fect. Come here.” He pulled me close to him and, wrap­ping his long, mus­cu­lar arms around me, cuddled me against his broad chest.

I pressed my face to his throat and breathed him in—the warm smell of his skin, the scent of the ocean, and a deep, male musk that was at once and en­tirely Salt. The fa­mil­iar scents and the gentle way he was hold­ing me eased my anxi­ety and soon I felt com­pletely re­laxed against him.

“Mmm, this is nice,” I sighed, press­ing a little closer. I could feel some­thing long and hard and hot brush­ing my belly but it didn’t frighten me any­more. I knew that soon I would have it in­side me and I wanted that—wanted Salt filling me up. But I was sure we were go­ing to take our time.

“Is very nice,” he rumbled. “I want you to know, mishka, I will al­ways be gentle with you. I will never hurt you as I did the other night. In fact…”

Be­fore I could protest, he was flip­ping me over and ex­amin­ing my bot­tom.

“Salt!” I pro­tested, for­get­ting our game for a mo­ment. “What are you do­ing?”

“Mak­ing sure I did not leave scars,” he said ser­i­ously.

There were still a few marks on my ass where the belt had landed but most had healed up nicely.

“I don’t think there will be any scars,” I told him gently, feel­ing bad for the re­morse I saw in his eyes. “But if there were, they would be scars of love. I know that, Salt. It’s not like what happened with your father. I know you would never want to hurt me like that on pur­pose.”

“Never,” he swore hoarsely. “Never again.” He kissed my bot­tom ten­derly, tra­cing the fad­ing marks with his tongue as though he was try­ing to erase them with gen­tle­ness and love alone.

It was a ges­ture of heal­ing but the feel of his warm breath and wet mouth on my bare ass was get­ting me all hot and bothered again.

“Salt,” I mur­mured, shift­ing rest­lessly. “Papa, I thought you were go­ing to…go­ing to fill me.”

“Mmm.” He flipped me back over and looked down at me ap­prais­ingly. “So you still want your Papa’s cock in your pussy? You think you can take it deep in­side—all the way into your tight little cunt?”

“God,” I moaned, his dirty talk un­do­ing me com­pletely. “Yes, Papa—at least, I’ll try.”