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The Institute, Daddy Issues(61)

By:Evangeline Anderson


Salt looked un­happy. “If you do not wish to do this…if you want to change your mind…”

“No—no of course not,” I said. “I mean…what choice do we have?” I took a deep breath. “I’m just…a little on edge. That’s all.”

“Of course.” He stroked my shoulder again. “But Andi…I want you to know, I will be care­ful…will be gentle.”

I nod­ded. “Sure. I know that.”

“I am not sure you do. Not after what happened at din­ner time.” He got a look of re­morse in his eyes. “Please be­lieve me—I did not real­ize I was spank­ing you so hard. I was…also on edge. Will you for­give me?”

“Of course, Salt.” I gave him a tent­at­ive smile. “There’s noth­ing to for­give. And I’m not afraid of you hurt­ing me or any­thing like that. I’m just, you know, shy.”

“For me to see your body, do you mean?” He raised an eye­brow at me.

“Well…yeah.” I shrugged un­eas­ily. “I mean, I know we’re not do­ing this for real to be, you know, sexual. But I still care about your opin­ion. I mean…what if you don’t like what you see?”

“Is not pos­sible,” Salt said softly. “I know I will like.”

I put a hand on my hip. “How can you be so sure?”

“Be­cause I know you, Andi—you are what I like,” he said pa­tiently. “And be­sides, I have seen you in swim­suit, you know.”

“A mod­est one piece swim­suit,” I poin­ted out.

My suit doesn’t show much skin be­cause I only swim for ex­er­cise in the morn­ings at the YMCA. When I put it on, I’m not do­ing it to get male at­ten­tion—I’m there to swim my laps and re­lieve some stress be­fore I have to go to work. That’s all I care about.

In fact, I couldn’t re­mem­ber the last time I’d dressed up to please a man or cared what any man thought of how I looked either clothed or na­ked…be­sides Salt, that was. I couldn’t help feel­ing if he didn’t like me na­ked it would really, really hurt.

“I just don’t know what you’re go­ing to think,” I said at last.

Salt frowned at me. “Do you want me to give hon­est opin­ion?”

I bit my lip. Did I want that?

Yes—do it. Like rip­ping off a band­age, whispered a little voice in my head.

It seemed like a good idea. If I was go­ing to have to be na­ked and let­ting Salt give me a bath every night we were here, it would be much bet­ter to know what he thought and not al­ways be wor­ry­ing about it.

“Well, all right,” I said. “Yes, I do. Tell me. Not just as a friend or a part­ner—as a man.”

He nod­ded. “I can do this. Drop the towel.”

It was one of the hard­est things I’ve ever done but I forced my­self to lose the death grip I had on the pink terry­c­loth towel I had clutched around me and let it drop to the marble tile floor. Then I held out my arms and lif­ted my chin, let­ting my part­ner look at me—really look at me for the first time.

Salt sucked in a breath and his eyes roved over me hun­grily.

“Andi…” he breathed softly.

“Well?” I said tightly. “Go on. Don’t keep me in sus­pense.”

“You are beau­ti­ful.” His eyes left my body and found my face. “Truly, I would not say so if I did not mean it.”

“But my breasts are too small,” I pro­tested.

“Per­fect for your size,” he as­sured me. “Per­fect to fit in a hand…or a mouth.”

I could feel my cheeks get­ting hot.

“My thighs and hips are too big,” I poin­ted out.

“Your curves are lovely,” Salt said softly. “So of­ten the clothes you wear at work hide them. But the dip of your waist…the way it curves out to your hips…” As he spoke, his big hands de­scribed an hour­glass in the air between us. “Beau­ti­ful,” he breathed again.

“My legs aren’t long enough,” I chal­lenged.

He smiled. “If your legs were long like gir­affe how could you be my little mishka? I love the dif­fer­ence between us—the way you are so little and per­fect.”

“All right,” I said. I didn’t know how I felt about the ‘little and per­fect’ re­mark but I de­cided to let it slide. “But you have to ad­mit,” I said, turn­ing to the side. “That my ass is way too—”