Daddy Issues Read online

  Salt star­ted by strok­ing the cool­ing gel over the outer lips of my pussy but then I moaned and wiggled, press­ing my mound into his hand.

  “In­side,” I whispered, look­ing back at him, over my shoulder. “Please, Papa—touch me in­side. That’s where it really hurts.”

  He made a low, in­dis­tinct sound in his throat and then I felt his long fin­gers strok­ing gently over my wet in­ner folds.

  “Where does it hurt, mishka?” he mur­mured hoarsely. “Here?”

  “Mmm…yes, Papa,” I moaned de­li­ri­ously. It felt so good—so right and I never wanted him to stop.

  “And here?” he asked, the pad of one fin­ger circ­ling gently around the swollen bud of my clit.

  “Yes!” I nearly cried with pleas­ure as he fi­nally touched me ex­actly where I needed to be touched. And he was do­ing it just right too—strok­ing all around the sens­it­ive bundle of nerves without rub­bing too hard or too dir­ectly. It was like he was try­ing to be care­ful, still treat­ing me like I was a del­ic­ate, beau­ti­ful work of art that he might dam­age if he stroked me too hard. In other cir­cum­stances I would have pro­tested that I could take rougher treat­ment but in this case, Salt’s touch was per­fect—ex­actly what I needed.

  “So beau­ti­ful, my little miskha,” he mur­mured as he con­tin­ued his gentle, in­tim­ate caress. “So soft and hot and so very wet.”

  “Am I?” I moaned softly, look­ing down at my­self. “I…I guess I can’t help it.”

  “I do not want you to help it. Is beau­ti­ful how much honey your pussy makes,” he as­sured me. “I love the silky feel of you in my hand…rid­ing my fin­gers.”

  As he spoke, I be­came aware that I was, in fact, mov­ing to a rhythm all my own. I was press­ing up against his big hand, rolling my hips, try­ing to get more of the ad­dict­ive sen­sa­tion of pleas­ure. Part of me—the part that was a tough-as-nails cop who took no shit off any­one—couldn’t be­lieve I was do­ing this. Couldn’t be­lieve it was ac­tu­ally me put­ting on his wan­ton, sexual dis­play. And yet, I couldn’t seem to stop—I couldn’t even make my­self want to stop. It felt too good, too right to have Salt touch­ing me this way.

  “Oh,” I moaned softly. “Oh Papa, I’m close…so close.”

  “That’s a good girl,” Salt mur­mured, his eyes half-lid­ded with lust. He star­ted rub­bing a little harder, a little faster. “That’s a very good girl, mishka.”

  “Please,” I begged him. “Oh, God…” I was so damn close but I needed some­thing else…some­thing more.

  Salt seemed to un­der­stand my need. For a mo­ment, he stopped rub­bing my clit and then I felt two long, strong fin­gers enter me. As they kissed the end of my chan­nel, his thumb was back, tra­cing slow, ma­gical pat­terns around my aching clit again.

  I gasped at the ad­ded sen­sa­tion and bucked against his hand as he fucked into me with his fin­gers. Oh God, I couldn’t stand this much more…

  “Mishka,” Salt growled, catch­ing my eyes and hold­ing them with his own. “Come for me now—come while I touch you.” Then he thrust in hard and I felt his thumb press against the throb­bing bud of my clit.

  “Oh…Oh!” I gasped, un­able to help my­self—not want­ing to help my­self. I felt the or­gasm rush through me—as sweet and strong as wine that goes straight to your head. My toes curled, my back arched and my nipples turned into hard little points. I clamped my thighs around Salt’s big hand as I moaned and cried my pleas­ure.

  Through it all, Salt watched me with half-lid­ded eyes. I could see how turned on he was—how in­cred­ibly aroused watch­ing me come made him. Yet he made no at­tempt to do any­thing but give me pleas­ure, even though he prob­ably had the worst case of blue balls in his­tory.

  At last it was over and I fell back, pant­ing, try­ing to catch my breath. My body was still tingling all over and nor­mally by now my mind would have been in over­drive. And in­deed, I did hear an in­ner voice ask­ing me what the hell I thought I was do­ing and how I ex­pec­ted to be able to look my part­ner in the eye in the fu­ture after let­ting him get me off this way.

  But mostly, I was still on an emo­tional high. Still stuck in the Little head­space I’d once scoffed at and thought was a joke or an ex­cuse to duck re­spons­ib­il­it­ies. So while the adult, re­spons­ible Andi was some­where scream­ing that I was screw­ing up my en­tire ca­reer and the best re­la­tion­ship I’d ever had, the Little me was con­tent to sigh and snuggle up to Salt’s broad chest and mur­mur, “Thank you, Papa.”

  Salt seemed happy to just hold me.

  “Mishka,” he mur­mured, gath­er­ing me close. I pressed my face to his throat and breathed him in—the scents of the ocean and his warm skin com­for­ted me and helped shut up the shrill voice of reason that was try­ing to as­sert it­self. To­mor­row…I would deal with the con­sequences of my ac­tions to­mor­row. That was soon enough.

  I’d had a very stress­ful day and now that I was fi­nally re­laxed, I just wanted to sleep where I was safe—in my Papa’s arms.

  So think­ing, I let my­self drift off and fell asleep wrapped in his strong em­brace.

  Chapter Ten

  “Wake up—we will be late. Un­less you want me to bring you break­fast in bed again?” Salt’s deep voice and the sun­light stream­ing through the cracks in the bed­room shades woke me. I took a deep, lazy stretch won­der­ing why I felt so good. My body seemed to be hum­ming with con­tent­ment and I felt looser and more re­laxed than I could re­mem­ber feel­ing for a long time.

  “Time to get up,” my part­ner said again.

  “In a minute,” I mur­mured. I rolled over, keep­ing my eyes closed, rel­ish­ing the feel of the silky sheets against my bare skin…wait a minute. My bare skin?

  My eyes flew open and I real­ized I was sleep­ing na­ked. Not only that, Salt was stand­ing over me fully clothed in an­other one of his dark, im­macu­late suits. He was watch­ing me as I writhed around on the bed like some kind of porn star.

  “Salt?” I gasped, sit­ting up and pulling the silky gray sheets up to my chin.

  “You do not have to do that,” he re­marked, sit­ting on the bed be­side me. “You do not have to be shy with me now.”

  Sud­denly everything came back to me. The way I’d let my part­ner see me na­ked. The way he’d bathed me…shaved me…and… Oh my God, had I ac­tu­ally let him touch me?

  Not just let him—you begged him, whispered a nasty little voice in my brain. Begged him to touch you un­til you came all over his hand. God only knows what he thinks of you now after the dis­play you put on last night.

  “Crap,” I groaned, put­ting my face in my hands. I couldn’t even look at my part­ner. “Salt,” I said, my voice muffled. “About last night…”

  “Last night, we did only what was ne­ces­sary,” he said firmly.

  “I don’t know what came over me,” I said, still not look­ing at him. “It was so…so weird. I just—”

  “Andi…” He lif­ted my chin gently but firmly un­til I re­luct­antly met his eyes. “There is no shame,” he said softly. “We are play­ing roles here, yes? Only pre­tend­ing.”

  “Yes…yes, of course,” I muttered, look­ing away. What would he think of me if he knew that everything I’d done the night be­fore had been real—at least to me? I hadn’t been play­act­ing when I begged him to touch me and called him “Papa.” I hadn’t been pre­tend­ing when I clung to him and snuggled close to his chest, feel­ing safe and warm and pro­tec­ted for the first time in years.

  Some­how I had hon­estly fallen into “Little-space” and had gone to a place in­side my­self I hadn’t even known was there. In that place, a hungry little girl lived—a girl who was starved for love and af­fec­tion from a strong, lov­ing man. A man she could de­pend on to never leave her, a pro­tector and de­fender. A man who would kill or die to keep her safe. Someone who could be a father…a part­ner…a lover�€