Dillon's Universe: A Perdition MC Novel

by Isabel Wroth

“Surprisingly, yeah. He saw me lose my fucking mind and still hasn't treated me like a nutjob or like I'm broken.

  "He's conscious of my quirks, caters to them even, and he does this thing with his voice... I don't even know how to describe the tone, but several times now he's done it and stopped me from having a full-blown panic attack.”

  The sound Dr. White made was relieved, and when Dillon lifted her head to look at her, it was to see the therapist smiling.

  “I know exactly the tone you mean. Would it be fair to suggest wearing the watch feels like he still has a comforting hand on you?”

  Dillon looked at the watch, at the vivid blue band and how snugly it fit around her wrist. Giving it some conscious attention, yeah, it did kind of feel as though Nasa was still holding her even though he wasn't with her.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “How do you feel when he uses that special tone of voice on you?” Dr. White watched Dillon intently, warmth in her expression, and a rather obvious eagerness to hear Dillon's answer.

  “Grounded. Calm. Steady. Too distracted by his voice to focus on whatever it is that's triggering me. You're getting at something, and I'm too tired right now to put it together.”

  Dr. White nodded, picking up the delicate cup and saucer to sip at the tea Dillon refused. Dillon waited, grinding her teeth with impatience, but Dr. White wasn't one to rush.

  She took her time, chose her words with care, and as a result hit the nail on the head with stunning accuracy.

  “I'm going to share some personal details with you that I wouldn't share with just any patient, because I feel you're at a positive turning point in your process despite your recent trauma.” Dr. White told her, the china of her cup clinking softly against the saucer, her pinkie extended.

  “Alright.”

  “I paid my way through college working as a professional dominant, and for several years after receiving my doctorate, I continued to supplement my income by taking clients of the BDSM variety.

  “The vast majority of them were sexually repressed men, or men unable to live out their fantasies in real life with a romantic partner, and I worked with several female clients who used the structure, rules, and extreme communication of BDSM as a way to overcome traumatic psychological issues. During my time as a ProDomme, I met Nasa socially at a BDSM club about seven-ish years ago. I was there meeting a potential client.”

  “A client... at a BDSM club?” Dillon repeated dubiously.

  Dr. White's smile remained confident and open. “I know it sounds unconventional, probably even unethical.

  "I never engaged in coitus with any of my clients, neither did I touch them in a sexual manner. The sessions were strictly cerebral in nature.

  “I no longer act as a dominant in a professional manner, but it was extremely lucrative, and at the time, it was an outlet for my own frustrations, my own psychological issues, and my need to take control of a life I felt completely adrift in.

  “It worked for me, and knowing what I know about you, there have been times I considered suggesting the structures within the world of dominance and submission to help you find a healthier, safer way for you to relinquish control.”

  Dillon wanted to laugh. Three years ago, if Dr. White had suggested Dillon go to some sex club to watch people get tied up and smacked around, to let someone do that to her, she'd have found herself a new therapist.

  “Every time I brought up the subject of your torture, you were extremely resistant and made it clear you weren't prepared to be vulnerable in that way.

  "You needed a deeper connection, a level of trust not found in a casual relationship, and in order to find that, you'd need to extend yourself farther outside your comfort zone than you seemed willing to go.”

  Dr. White frowned thoughtfully, folding her finely manicured hands in her lap. “The way you live your life, I was fairly confident you might engage in casual sex, though you never brought it up in therapy.

  "I also knew it would take an extremely unique individual to inspire the sort of trust required to form a true connection. Nasa is a dominant male in every sense of the word, and BDSM is a large part of his life.

  “He helped Dr. Thompson and I build this practice because of it, and before you object and say there's no way in hell you'd ever let Nasa tie you up or spank you, I want you to hear me when I say there is so much more to BDSM than kinky sex and bondage, and let me explain.”

  Dr. White raised her eyebrows, waiting for the immediate rebuttal Dillon did indeed have poised to say. When Dillon remained silent, Dr. White nodded and went on.

  “Being a dominant male and being a dominant male who engages in BDSM are two separate distinctions.

  "When I met him in Dallas, it took me all of five minutes to understand Nasa doesn't need BDSM to be dominant because it's a natural state for him.

  “He's the quintessential patriarch who cares deeply for those he considers his family. He has his own traumas that drive his subconscious motives, but the way he cares is evident in his actions.

  "The men and women of Perdition know beyond all shadow of doubt, they are protected.”

  In Dillon’s opinion, he’d most definitely succeeded in that regard.

  “His protective measures have gotten increasingly more aggressive in the wake of the death of one brother, and increased again after the kidnap and torture of another two members of Perdition, which is why he now has security cameras everywhere, and contingency plans for his contingency plans.

  “That Saint and Damon were taken, that Ghost lived in the Perdition compound, took care of the children, and was given jobs that kept him close to the women without being discovered?

  "Despite there being over twenty men in residence, everything bad that happened after Ghost's arrival in their lives, every trust that was violated, Nasa considers it a personal failure. A failure to protect his family.

  “No matter how many times any one of his brothers tell him it wasn't his fault, Nasa hasn't forgiven himself.

  "His ego and his superiority complex in this case is what I'm truly hoping Teague will be able to get through to him about, dominant to dominant.

  "I was shocked yesterday to hear from him about you, but I heard the same tone you've described in his voice, and I was thrilled. For you.”

  “He doesn't even know me,” Dillon whispered, unable to speak any louder due to the sensation of a boulder suddenly pressing down on her chest.

  Dr. White tilted her head to the side, her gaze steady and penetrating. “Even though he was certain you were working with Ghost, he still dropped everything and risked getting his face ripped off by your dog to get to you.

  "You responded to him—his voice— at your most vulnerable. Something allowed you to trust him. In that moment, an undeniable connection was formed between you.”

  “What, like a duckling hatching and imprinting on the first thing it sees?” Dillon shot back with no small amount of growing hostility.

  The idea her attraction to Nasa might be from some psychological misfiring in her brain, and not a natural state in response to his caring actions toward her, surprisingly, upset her.

  Dr. White didn't so much as blink. “It's a fair comparison, actually. If I were to call him in here right now and ask him why he drove those four hours to get to you, he would say it was his fault for not convincing you to stay at the compound.

  "His fault for failing to make you feel safe there and dismiss any other explanation as possible.

  “He'll say he was the one to put you in a position to face Tobias when he couldn't possibly have known about your past.

  "He thinks of himself as Mr. Universe, out there surfing the cosmic waves of information, and truth be told there isn't much he can't find in this digital era.

  “In fact, I’d wager a fair amount of money, he was up to his eyebrows in digging through your background when the call came in that you were in trouble.

  “It was a huge deal to sit in another man's compound—one Nasa had
no hand in building or securing—outside his comfort zone, away from his safety net, to wait for you to wake up and explain why you were there, so he could gain your consent to take you back to Austin with him.

  “Why did he do all that? Why did he get in Veracruz's face when Veracruz offered you an alternative to coming back to Austin?

  "Why make a point to purchase clothes for you in your favorite color, and hunt down your exact brand of toiletries? Why paint his basement white and remove every stick of BDSM furniture from his living space?”

  Dillon took a deep breath to keep from popping off a round of sarcasm, only to stop and frown when the last of Dr. White's questions penetrated the stubborn haze of Dillon's thoughts.

  “I didn't realize he had anything kinky in the basement. How did you know he'd painted it white?”

  “Gee is Dr. Thompson's patient, and he came in with paint all through his hair. I asked what happened when I saw Gee in the waiting room, and he shared.”

  Dr. White didn't say anything else, waiting in her unflappable way for Dillon to answer the questions she'd asked.

  “Nasa made me lunch yesterday and we talked. A lot. He said I like knowing I have eyes on me at all times.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah. It means I can't disappear without someone knowing about it, and he was correct.” Dillon admitted, wanting to reach up and rub away the blush heating up her face.

  “Nasa said I was important to him, and not because of however I fit into solving the puzzle regarding Ghost.

  “He claimed he didn't know why, called me 'Tiger Lily' for the tenth time, and the answer to all your, 'whys,' is he's taking care of me, and somehow he's doing it in a way that doesn't make me feel weak or inferior.

  "But there is no universe in which I would be okay with being restrained in any way or whipped. It's not happening, and if that's what he needs to get off...”

  Dillon left that an open-ended statement because there wasn't a snowball’s chance in hell she would ever allow anyone to take away her ability to escape, no matter how safe he made her feel.

  “Would you consider allowing Nasa to give you a massage?”

  “A massage? That's not...” Dillon waffled her hand in front of her. “You know.”

  “Not kinky?” Dr. White laughed pleasantly. “Dominance and submission is more than just a sex game. In truth, it's what happens when the sex goes away that actually matters.

  “Nasa is deeply fulfilled by being needed, and in doing things for others to make them feel safe, happy, and appreciated. Don't mistake me, he can be an overbearing prick when he doesn't get his way.

  “He's driven by justice, and his world has very few shades of gray. If you wrong him or someone he loves, you will pay the price. He's opinionated, has no filter, and you will never be confused as to where you stand with him.

  “He's unbelievably generous, observant of the small details—such as recognizing your favorite color is blue, and specifically getting your preferred toiletries—that are often more important than the larger details. He's thoughtful, kind, respectful, and the least judgmental person I've ever met.

  “He is possessive and defends what he considers his with the ferocity of a dragon guarding his treasure, and if not for his extreme paranoia about the government, I'd say he's pretty damn close to perfect.

  “You feel that deep, primal connection, or you wouldn't respond the way you do. You feel the sexual chemistry sparking between the two of you, and if you didn't, wearing that watch wouldn't mean anything beyond having another tool to protect yourself with.

  “That tone of voice he uses on you when you're about to break down? That's the voice of a Dominant stepping in to assume authority when you falter and don't know where to turn.

  "If you tell him no, he may ask you why you're saying no, but he will respect it and stop whatever it is that's making you uncomfortable, immediately. He'll respect you.

  “If you tell him you will never be comfortable being tied up or tied down, he'll never bring it up again. The more transparent you are in your communication, the better. . I could tell you all day long what my definition of BDSM is, but I think you’ll fare better hearing it from Nasa, and hearing him tell you his definition.

  “I hope you and I have established enough trust between us, that you’ll believe me when I tell you it’s worth at the very least, having an honest conversation about.”

  Dillon did in fact trust Dr. White. She trusted the therapist more than she’d trusted anyone in the last ten years, and that trust came from several years worth of caution and struggle on Dillon’s part.

  No lie, Dillon made Dr. White work hard for that trust.

  She’d met Nasa less than a month ago, and he’d already done more than enough to prove to her he was worthy of trusting.

  So, yeah. If Dr. White was bringing this whole BDSM thing up, if she trusted Nasa in that realm of weirdness, Dillon felt comfortable at least attempting to have a conversation with him about it.

  Maybe.

  "When was the last time you had sex?”

  Dillon shook her head, plucking at a thread on her denim shorts while she tried to digest everything Dr. White had just thrown at her.

  “Since before I was taken and interrogated. After they tortured me and threatened to rape me if I didn't tell them what they wanted to hear, my libido disappeared.

  “You know how I struggled to trust men after that, how I panicked every time a man so much as glanced my way. In the last week, I've been flirted with, teased, smiled at, and I watched a bunch of seriously built shirtless guys flipping tires up and down their astro-turf football field, all without being triggered.

  "Yesterday, I definitely flirted with Nasa, and I held his hand today. You say it's because I have a connection with him, but I feel like I'm just going crazy.”

  “I assure you, you're not going crazy,” Dr. White told her firmly. “If you had gone off on your own, what would you be doing?”

  That was an all too easy question to answer. “I'd be on the run, constantly looking over my shoulder, back to believing every man who looked at me sideways was out to get me. I'd be so hypervigilant there would be no safe place to rest, because I've isolated myself pretty damn well.”

  “Yes,” Dr. White confirmed, reaching over for her tea-cup..

  “When I ask if you're willing to let Nasa give you a massage, it's not about sex, kinky or otherwise. I'm asking if you're willing to be vulnerable and let him take a few more steps beyond your previously impenetrable emotional walls.

  “I'm asking if you're willing to let him touch your scars, your body, and give him the chance to prove you can trust him to respect your boundaries. Could you do it?”

  Dillon envisioned herself lying face down on a table, exposed, with Nasa looming over her, touching her. Part of her turned liquid at the thought of his hands on her, but a bigger part retreated in fear.

  “I'm not sure,” Dillon finally answered.

  “What part makes you most anxious? Being touched? Letting him see your scars?”

  Dillon shook her head, her pulse starting to throb with enough force she could feel her veins pushing against the band of her watch.

  “He's already seen my scars. I whipped off my sweatshirt the first day at the compound to show everyone the message Ghost wrote on me. When I walked away, they all saw my back.

  “I've never had a massage, so I don't know what to expect. I'm not opposed to having Nasa's hands on me—assuming he'd even want to give me a massage—but the idea of being face down with him behind me, above me, unable to see him... That’s a hard no.”

  “First of all, don't assume what he does or doesn’t want,” Dr. White pointed out. “I saw how he looked at you right before I scooped you up for your appointment. If you were to ask him for a massage, I bet you fifty bucks, massage oil will magically appear and his first question will be, 'what kind of pressure do you prefer?'”

  “As I said, one of the main components of BDSM is comm
unication. Nasa understands how to utilize explicit language to make his needs and desires perfectly clear, no confusion or gray areas to misinterpret what he wants, and the concept of negotiation is largely a part of his sexual play.”

  “Negotiation?”

  Dr. White hummed her affirmation, her teacup clinking in its saucer after taking a sip.

  “Explaining how the thought of not being able to see him during the massage has you hesitating to ask because you don't know what to expect, and giving him examples of what you are and are not willing to allow, is negotiation.

  “In expressing where your boundaries lie, you're allowing him the opportunity to be sensitive to your insecurities and find solutions to give you what you need, which is his ultimate goal. Do you feel comfortable enough with Nasa to talk to him so openly?”

  “Right this second? No. But eventually? Maybe. I'll think about it. I have a lot to think about.”

  Desperate to stop thinking about Nasa's hands on her body, Dillon was quick to deflect the conversation away from her. “I have a personal question I'd like to ask you, though.”

  “You can certainly ask,” Dr. White invited.

  “What's the deal with Cher? When I called for my appointment, it felt like she took my refusal to make appointments for the last few years personally.”

  Dr. White sighed, her smile thinning as the shutters came down over her eyes, and Dillon fully expected a dismissive answer.

  “Cher is my younger sister. She can be rather nasty when she feels I've been wronged by a patient and not without cause.

  "I left Dallas because one of the men I used to professionally dominate believed we were in a romantic relationship and took violent steps to prove it to me."

  Dillon didn’t miss the way Dr. White’s hand trembled as she raised her fingers to carefully settle her hair along the right side of her face.

  It was terrible to learn Dr. White had become a victim of one of her clients, but Cher had been a complete asshole the entire time Dillon had been coming to see Dr. White as a therapy patient, and Dr. White had only relocated to Austin a year or so ago.

  "You and I will be scheduling our appointments from now on. I have Tuesday at four open.”