The Institute, Daddy Issues(68)

“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.