“So, here you are.” Salt settled on the bed beside me and put one big hand between my shoulder blades.
I gasped and jumped, my body tying itself in knots again as I tried to deny what we were doing. Salt, as always, was attuned to my moods.
“Mishka, my darling,” he rumbled, stroking my back gently. “What is it? Why is it that the minute I leave you alone you start to doubt?”
“What—you mean doubt that this is a good idea?” I asked, giving a shaky laugh.
“No—you doubt that I want you, I think. Doubt that I will be gentle and careful with you. That I will protect your heart as well as your sweet body.” Salt sounded thoughtful. “But do not worry, my little mishka. I will always be here. And for now, I just want to heal you. Can you trust me to do that?”
“I…I think so,” I whispered.
“Good. Then untangle your legs—I cannot reach you in this way. Not to do you any good.”
With a shivering sigh, I uncrossed and opened my legs, waiting for his touch. When it came, I gave a little gasp as the cooling ointment made contact with my hot flesh.
“Gently,” Salt murmured, stroking it over my heated ass cheeks. “So gently, my little miska.”
At his gentle, soothing touch and his deep voice flowing over me, I could feel myself floating into that headspace again where I just wanted to trust. Where the shrill little voice of doubt and uncertainty was easy to ignore and all I wanted was my Papa’s hands on my body.
“Papa,” I whispered, spreading my thighs a little more. “Please, it still hurts…lower down.”
“Here?” He rubbed more of the gel along the undercurves of my ass, stroking dangerously close to my inner thighs.
“Even lower—more inside,” I said softly and spread my legs even wider for him. I could feel my pussy lips spreading open, my little clit throbbing with need as I displayed myself for him. I couldn’t stop thinking of how much I wanted his touch.
“Oh, mishka,” he murmured. “We should not.”
“But I’m hurting,” I whispered and it wasn’t a lie or an exaggeration. Just now my pussy felt so wet and hot and achy I thought I would die if he didn’t touch me, at least a little.
“Was the shaving too rough for you?” Salt sounded concerned. “You are hurting where I used the razor on you, perhaps?”
“Yes, exactly.” I nodded and looked back at him. “Please…could you put some gel on me there? Where you shaved me…Papa?”
Salt gave a low groan and I knew he was still reluctant to do this—to touch me so intimately even though he had kissed me there a little while ago. But that had been just a single kiss—now I was asking him to stroke my open pussy, to caress my aching core and give me pleasure. We both knew it wouldn’t end with him just putting gel on the outside of my mound. I wanted more—had to have more.
“Please,” I whispered again. “Please, Papa—it hurts so much. Please make me feel better.”
“Yes, my little mishka. I can deny you nothing,” he murmured at last. “But turn over first—if you really want this, turn over so I can see you.”
“All right.” I turned over, feeling a little shy but my uncertainty turned to pleasure when I saw the hunger in his eyes.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, running one big hand down my naked body. “So beautiful and open and sweet.”
At those soft words in his deep, rumbling voice, I felt myself opening like a flower. He liked what he saw—I was wanted—loved. And I wanted to show him that I loved him back. I relaxed under his touch and let my thighs drift even wider apart, baring my newly shaved pussy for him.
“Mishka,” he murmured. Then I felt his big hand reach between my thighs. I moaned and parted my legs even wider, giving him easier access. I couldn’t remember ever wanting anything as much as I wanted my partner’s touch at that moment. I knew it was wrong, knew it would probably change our relationship forever but I couldn’t help myself—I was hungry to have his hands on me and it was a hunger I had been denying far too long. I needed him.