The Institute: Daddy Issues (28 page)

I looked too and was em­bar­rassed to real­ize how hot and wet I was get­ting. The thin white silk panties were soaked with my juices to the point where they were al­most com­pletely see-through. The damp fab­ric clung to my swollen pussy lips which were open­ing on their own, spread­ing to show the little pink pearl of my clit beg­ging for his at­ten­tion.

“Mmm,
mishka,
look how wet you are for Papa,” Salt growled softly. He ran one fin­ger­tip down my cleft, slid­ing gently over my throb­bing clit and mak­ing me moan and jump.

“Yes,” I ad­mit­ted in a low voice. “Yes, Papa, I
am
wet—so wet for you.” I couldn’t help my­self—my hips were rising to meet his touch. I craved the feel­ing of his mouth and lips and tongue all over my throb­bing cunt.

“Look at these sweet hips com­ing up to meet me. I think you want your Papa to taste your pussy.” He looked up at me, his eyes lazy with lust. “Is that right, my little darling?”

I bit my lip. “Yes, Papa,” I whispered.

Salt gave me his one-sided smile.

“If you want it, then you must ask for it,
mishka.
I want you to say, ‘Please, Papa, spread my pussy open and taste me.’ Can you do that for me?”

My heart felt like it was go­ing to pound its way out of my chest. God, we were really go­ing all the way with this, weren’t we? Or Salt was and he was wait­ing for me to fol­low his lead. I didn’t hes­it­ate.

“Please, Papa,” I whispered, feel­ing em­bar­rassed and in­cred­ibly turned on at the same time. “Please spread my pussy open and…and taste me.”

“With pleas­ure,
mishka,”
Salt rumbled. First he pressed a gentle kiss to my mound, mak­ing me tremble at the feel of his hot breath against my vul­ner­able pussy. Then he hooked his fin­gers in the waist­band of my panties and tugged.

I trembled and lif­ted my hips for him so that he could strip the soaked panties down my thighs and off my legs. Then I lay on the bed, com­pletely open for him with my breasts and sex ex­posed and on dis­play.

Salt growled with ap­proval and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. He got on his knees be­fore me and pressed between my thighs, his broad shoulders split­ting me wide.

I ex­pec­ted him to dive right in, but ap­par­ently he wanted to sa­vor the ex­per­i­ence.

“Look at this soft little pussy, all spread open just for Papa,” he mur­mured, catch­ing my eyes and hold­ing them. “I can see how your little clit is swollen and throb­bing—do you need Papa to kiss you there,
mishka?”

“Yes,” I whispered, fol­low­ing his lead. “Please, Papa—I feel so achy and hot there. My little but­ton needs your kisses.”

“Of course it does, my darling. But first I must taste the rest of you.” Lean­ing for­ward he lapped gently at the crease between my thigh and my pussy.

“Salt!” I groaned. “Papa…what are you do­ing?”

“Be­fore I can taste you prop­erly, I must clean up all your pussy honey.” He gave me a stern look. “Just re­lax and spread wide for your Papa,
mishka.
You must be pa­tient—I prom­ise I will taste your sweet little cunt when the time is right.”

Then he went back to lick­ing around my in­ner thighs, clean­ing every trace of my juices away with his hot, wet tongue, mov­ing slowly…so
slowly
in­ward to­wards my pussy.

But even when he fi­nally fin­ished with my thighs, he still didn’t get any­where near my clit. In­stead, he sucked my outer pussy lips into his mouth, gently mouth­ing them un­til I moaned and squirmed un­der him.

“Be still,
mishka,”
he said sternly, look­ing up at me. “If you do not, I may have to pun­ish you.”

“But you said…you said you wouldn’t spank me again un­til my bot­tom healed com­pletely,” I re­minded him breath­lessly.

“And so I will not, but as you poin­ted out be­fore, there are more ways than that to pun­ish.” As he spoke, he dipped the tip of his long middle fin­ger into the well of my pussy, gath­er­ing mois­ture. Then he stroked gently around my ex­posed rose­bud, mak­ing me stiffen.

“Oh, Papa!” I gasped.

“Gently, my darling.” Salt gave me a half-lid­ded look that was pure lust. “You must re­lax and get used to Papa touch­ing you every­where—even here. Can you open for me as you did be­fore while I lick and taste your sweet pussy?”

I bit my lip. “I…
think
so,” I whispered. After all, he’d touched me this way at the In­sti­tute. It had been fright­en­ing at first and it was still a little scary, but I liked the idea of giv­ing him com­plete and un­res­tric­ted ac­cess to my body. I also liked the thought of let­ting him touch me here, not be­cause someone else de­man­ded it, but be­cause I trus­ted him and wanted him to know all of me in­tim­ately.

“My brave girl,” Salt mur­mured, lean­ing down to place a gentle, open mouthed kiss on my in­ner folds. “So brave to let your Papa lick all the honey from your pussy while he opens your tight little rose­bud.”

God, his dirty talk was mak­ing me
in­sane.
Who knew that my stoic, Rus­sian part­ner could be so filthy between the sheets? I was so turned on I could barely breathe.

I tried to muffle a moan and didn’t quite suc­ceed as he began lick­ing me in earn­est. Start­ing at the bot­tom of my slit, he licked up­ward, bathing my in­ner cunt and my throb­bing clit with his hot tongue. At the same time, I felt the blunt tip of his fin­ger eas­ing gently into me, filling my rose­bud as he feasted on my open pussy.

“Papa,” I moaned shame­lessly as my hands found their way into his thick, black hair. “Oh, Papa,
please.”

“That’s right.” Salt looked up for a mo­ment, his mouth and chin coated in my juices. “Moan for Papa. I love to hear my Baby­girl moan­ing and cry­ing while I lick her sweet little cunt.”

Then he bent his head and went back to busi­ness, teased my aching clit gently by tra­cing a circle around it with his tongue un­til I thought I was go­ing to die. And as he licked, his long fin­ger worked its way slowly into me, filling my rose­bud in a way that was both pleas­ur­able and em­bar­rass­ing.

“Papa,” I moaned, los­ing my­self com­pletely as I tugged on his hair and pushed my hips up to meet him. “Papa, please,
please.
I need…I need to come so bad. Please, Papa—please make me come!”

Salt looked up again, his pale eyes feral with lust.

“Ride your Papa’s tongue, Baby­girl,” he growled softly. “I am go­ing to press against you and let you open your­self and rub against me un­til you come.”

He pressed the flat of his tongue to my open cunt, mak­ing me feel com­pletely sur­roun­ded by his heat. I moaned and did ex­actly what he had ordered me to do. Work­ing against him shame­lessly, I pulled his hair and rubbed my open cunt against my part­ner’s hot mouth. He made a low growl of de­sire and pressed harder against me. At the same time, I felt his long fin­ger com­pletely in­vade me, filling my tight rose­bud and mak­ing me feel owned and opened every­where.

The sen­sa­tion of be­ing so open for him—of be­ing so com­pletely his—sent me spin­ning over the edge.

“Papa—
Papa!”
I wailed as my pleas­ure peaked and I came help­lessly against his tongue. Every muscle in my body seemed to tense at once and I wished des­per­ately that he was in­side me—not just his fin­ger or his tongue but his long, thick cock. The shaft I had sucked so eagerly un­der the din­ner table at the In­sti­tute. I wanted it in me to the hilt, open­ing me and own­ing me—mak­ing me his forever.

I was pretty sure Salt was think­ing along the same lines. He rode out my or­gasm, stay­ing with me though my hips were buck­ing wildly to­wards the end. When at last I col­lapsed in ex­haus­tion, he slid his fin­ger slowly out of me and bent down to lap gently around my pussy, clean­ing me up.

“So much honey, my sweet
mishka,”
he mur­mured, his voice thick with lust. “It makes your pussy so wet and slip­pery in­side.”

“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.”

“Very good. But we must be care­ful not to hurt you.”

Salt sat up and po­si­tioned him­self against the head­board of the bed with a pil­low be­hind his back. Then he beckoned to me.

“Come here,
mishka,”
he growled softly. “Come here and ride your Papa’s cock.”

“Yes, Papa.” I went to him will­ingly and straddled his lap so that my open pussy was hov­er­ing over the long, thick shaft rising from between his thighs. The broad crown was ex­posed, a single droplet of clear pre­cum welling from its tip. I took his thick­ness in my hand, lov­ing the silky, hot feel of his skin, in­tend­ing to rub him against my open pussy.

“Wait…” Salt put a hand on my arm, keep­ing me still for a mo­ment.

“What?” I looked up at him un­cer­tainly. Did he not want me to take the lead? I wanted him in me so badly I felt like I would die. Not in the way that the Please had made me feel—like a black hole had opened in­side me that had to be filled. No, this was a deep, pleas­ur­able ache—the need to have the man I cared for deep in­side me, claim­ing me in the most in­tim­ate way pos­sible.