Dillon's Universe: A Perdition MC Novel

by Isabel Wroth

  “Yeah, yeah. Me pot, you kettle. I came here to watch my man get sweaty and to get in some early morning delights before he takes off with Ruckus and Gee. So move it, fussy pants. You're in my seat.”

  Top heaved himself up out of his purloined chair with a deep chuckle, but Athena's sassy attitude didn't deter him from lifting up the floppy edge of her hat to press a fatherly kiss to her forehead.

  “You think about what I said, Dillon,” he said with a decisive nod and sauntered back inside.

  Athena's chair squeaked in protest when she threw her small body down into it, and before giving her full attention to her husband, Athena pinned Dillon in place with a direct stare.

  “Whatever Top said to you, it comes from a good place. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't say anything at all.”

  Dillon must have made the appropriate noise and expression to convince Athena everything was fine, but inside, Dillon was back on rocky ground.

  What were her intentions? She was here spinning her wheels, availing herself of the protection offered by the club, but what happened when she no longer needed it?

  Dillon already knew she wouldn't be going back to live at her house in Dallas, so did that mean she was staying here?

  Dr. White seemed to have encouraged her to get involved with Nasa, but shouldn't she have been encouraging Dillon not to make any big decisions—such as jumping into a relationship—while in the middle of a high-stress situation?

  Dillon's next appointment was scheduled for tomorrow, and she didn't know how to talk to Nasa about her uncertainties without making it sound like she had regrets about what happened between them in the basement.

  She definitely had no regrets about that, but everything Top had to say made Dillon give some thought about what direction she was heading.

  Nasa put down his sledge hammer and looked over at her.

  He said something to Damon, and then Nasa crossed the field to her, all sweaty and glistening, muscles bulging from exertion, staring at her with his intense, penetrating gaze.

  Dillon braced herself to come up with an excuse for whatever Nasa saw, but all he did was extend his hand and say, “Let’s go inside before you get a sunburn.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  For all of ten minutes during his workout yesterday, Nasa thought they'd moved too fast and Dillon was having regrets. Then Top had come out to sit down and chat with her, but the way Dillon looked across at him and smiled, easy and sweet, reassured Nasa everything was fine.

  He looked over again, something instinctual tingling along his spine, and found Top was gone. Beside Athena, Dillon had this lost, uncertain look in her eyes, and he’d stoppedbeating the tire. When he offered his hand to her, Dillon didn't hesitate to take it.

  Which, again, let him know she wasn't backing away from him once the endorphins from that spectacular orgasm wore off.

  Enveloped inside the basement, Nasa left her long enough to shower and change, and when he'd come back out, Dillon had been sitting at her desk, intently focused on whatever she was doing.

  Sensing she was working through whatever Top said to her, probably something along the lines of asking her what her endgame was, Nasa left her to it and got busy doing what he did best.

  Eventually, Saint had come downstairs, needing his help, and Nasa had gotten distracted.

  He wouldn't have even known it was dinnertime had Dillon not brought him a plate of perfectly cooked steak and put it literally under his nose.

  They ate together on the couch and watched a few episodes of The Walking Dead, discussed the stupidity of this or that choice and how they would have avoided the scenario, or used it to their advantage.

  It had been an excellent way to get to know one another, and now more than ever, Nasa was confident if zombies took over the world tomorrow, he wanted Dillon at his side to survive the apocalypse.

  Not long after putting her empty plate down on the coffee table, she slid down into the cushions and fell asleep.

  He'd sat up for another hour after draping a blanket over her, debating on whether or not to wake her up and take her upstairs to her bed, or to pick her up and settle her in his. In the end, he left her be and had woken up this morning to find her leaning against the poster near his feet, looking rumpled and adorable.

  Somehow, he'd slept through her and Elka coming and going, and when she saw he was awake, she came closer with a big coffee cup.

  He'd scooted over to make room for her to sit on the edge of the mattress, but she'd only smiled, taken a sip of coffee before reaching out to brush a lock of hair off his forehead.

  “Next time, wake me up. I hate not sleeping on my own pillow.”

  Rolling over to put his arm behind his head, still a bit groggy from sleep, Nasa hadn’t held back from teasing her or made any attempt to hide the fact he'd woken up ready for action.

  “So, if I'd gone upstairs and brought your pillow down, you'd have been comfortable in bed with me?”

  A warm flush spread across her cheeks, and she used the pretense of sipping at her coffee to take her time in answering.

  “I haven't slept in a bed with another person in over a decade, and I'm not sure how I would react in light of recent events, but if you'd gone to the trouble of getting my pillow, I would’ve tried. To sleep.”

  Dillon held the mug out to him with a smirk. Nasa took it and sipped, discovering she'd made him coffee just the way he liked it. Heavy on the cream, no sugar.

  The wives all brought him treats, cookies, lemon bars, and despite her objection to the amount of sugar he ingested, Athena kept him stocked in pear Jelly Beans at all times. She'd even bought him the huge cut crystal bowl currently sitting on his desk to dump them all in.

  But Nasa could count the number of women who'd brought him coffee in bed first thing in the morning, on one finger.

  “Thank you,” he finally said, ignoring the way his cock practically waved to get Dillon's attention, and the disappointment to note her gaze remained fixed on his face. “Truth be told, I haven't spent the whole night with someone for about the same time. We could be each other's guinea pigs and give it a try.”

  “I'll give it some thought,” Dillon agreed and stood up, a smirk canting her lips as she finally glanced at his morning wood.

  He watched the sinuous way she turned and headed back for the stairs.

  “Breakfast will be ready in twenty.”

  *****

  Seven hours had passed since then, and Nasa was still revisiting that moment. She hadn't been afraid, she hadn't run from him, but the distance remained.

  Nasa didn't have any evidence yet to prove it, but he suspected it came from the conversation Dillon had yesterday with Top.

  The Prez wouldn't have said anything with the intention to hurt or upset her, but that crafty old man had ways of making people think deep thoughts, meddling in his boys love lives.

  Top never simply sat down to shoot the shit. He had motives, ulterior and otherwise.

  Outside the stock market, Nasa wasn't much of a betting man. However, he'd bet all the shares he'd just sold for a ridiculous profit, Top had done that thing he did, and put some nasty bug in Dillon's ear that had her doing the mental cha-cha just when Nasa thought they were starting to fall in sync with one another.

  First Tobias, then Collette messing with her head, now Top? Nasa ground his teeth together and seriously considered telling everyone to fuck off while he took Dillon and disappeared with her to his secondary safe house.

  If she came out of her therapy session today even a fraction of fucked up like she'd been last time, they were gone.

  As vehement as the thought was, the one that came after made him glad to be sitting down.

  Not once in nine years had Nasa ever considered leaving his brothers in the lurch in favor of a woman, yet he felt fully prepared, justified even, in leaving the safety of the compound fortress to be alone with Dillon if that's what she needed.

  He sat there staring at the fountain, wond
ering if he was using the word 'important' instead of 'love' when it came to what he felt for her.

  Still pondering that question an hour later, Dillon came walking into the waiting room beside Collette, looking wrung the fuck out.

  Nasa was on his feet in a heartbeat, and without any encouragement at all, Dillon kept walking until she practically did a face-plant right into his chest.

  He wrapped her up immediately, turning his lips to her hair, glowering suspiciously at Collette. The dark-haired woman gave an amused roll of her eyes, calm and composed. She cleared her throat, which made Dillon suck in a huge breath.

  “I have a crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch last night. If you don't have anything that needs your immediate attention, I'd like to try a massage.”

  The only thing that needed his immediate attention was her. “You and I already discussed this, Dillon. Lying down flat where you can't see me is too big of a step.”

  Nasa continued to pour all of the disapproval and feelings of anger he felt toward Collette, for pushing Dillon to move faster than she was ready, into a heated glare. Collette simply stood there, a knowing smirk teasing the corners of her crimson lips.

  “Apparently, the walls in room four are all mirrored, and I can turn my head to keep you in sight,” Dillon told him. “It doesn't have to be today if you don't want to.”

  At that, one of Collette's perfectly manicured eyebrows slid up challengingly, and Nasa felt it like the slap of a glove across the cheek. He knew exactly what she was up to, but Nasa wasn't in the mood to play.

  “To get to room four, we'll have to walk through the lobby, past Cher, and into Pavlovia. Dr. White wants me to take you over there, through the dungeon, past all the furniture and BDSM equipment because she'd like for you to experience whatever reaction you have to it here—in a space separate from what you've become accustomed to as safe—and discuss how it made you feel in your next session.”

  Collette was grinning like a hyena now, and Nasa thought he could feel Dillon smile against his chest. Her voice was muffled, soft enough Nasa didn't think Collette could hear her.

  “She did mention it—almost in exactly those words—and I'm okay with it. I trust you. There's nothing in there that can hurt me.”

  I trust you.

  Three little words and all his reservations were swept away. In response to what had to be a goofy ass look on his face, Collette gave a smart nod and a wave of her hand.

  “I'll see you next week, Dillon.”

  “Yep, thank you,” Dillon answered a little louder, her face still pressed to his chest.

  When Collette disappeared around the corner, Nasa drew back just far enough to catch Dillon's gaze, searching her face for any signs of discomfort or uncertainty.

  She seemed calm, wincing only a little when she had to crane her neck to look up at him with her gorgeous tiger eyes—exhausted, but otherwise fine. Better, in fact, than when he'd last seen her.

  “It doesn't have to be today if you need to get back to the compound.”

  Again, Dillon offered to let him off the hook, but looking at her, he could see it wasn't because she was evading something she wasn't ready for.

  She actually thought he had other stuff he'd rather be doing than giving her a massage.

  “Today is good. Before we go through the dungeon, I want to be clear. BDSM is my kink, but it doesn't have to be yours. I don't need it to be with you.”

  A soft, beautiful smile curled her lips. The kind of smile that wrapped around his heart and squeezed.

  “I'm thinking, maybe there are aspects of BDSM that I need to be with you,” she told him slowly. “Knowing where I stand at all times, being able to tell you stuff without it fucking things up between us.

  “I'm thinking, I need the rules and the rituals to hold onto when I'm too manic to relax, because it feels really good not to have to carry everything by myself.”

  Nasa knew what it took for her to say that, and it wasn't simply relief he felt. He felt the excitement of walking beside her down a new, uncharted path.

  He'd never taken a lover who wasn't an experienced submissive. He hadn't ever been completely, one hundred percent responsible for introducing someone to his kinks. He hadn't wanted to be that responsible, but now it was all he could think about.

  “Rule number one: Talk to me, no filters, no subtle hints. Balls out honesty about what it does or doesn't make you feel to walk through there.”

  Dillon traced an X over her heart and gave a sassy wink.

  “Balls out, I promise.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The scary dungeon looked like a high-end nightclub. Nasa told her it had been converted from an old cabaret, which explained the trio of stripper poles at the center of the enormous stage. Comfortable couches and flat lounges surrounded what Nasa said were scene spaces.

  Dillon took notice of a jail cell with wooden stocks, a medieval torture rack, a wide array of chains and shackles, and a throne Dillon could picture Nasa sprawled in as he surveyed his domain.

  It looked like something out of a movie, but not one she had any interest in starring in.

  He let her set the pace of their walk-through, and she wasn't shy about telling him she loved the aesthetic. Dillon felt no desire to experience what it felt like to be tied up and suspended from the big bamboo poles over thickly padded flooring.

  She had no interest in being strapped to the enormous metal star and flogged or whipped, but a lot of time, effort, and money had obviously been spent in the creation of a gorgeous place to socialize and let one's freak flag proudly fly.

  “What’s this?” she asked, pausing in front of a large white box sitting upon a raised platform.

  Nasa moved around to the side and flipped a switch, sticking his arm inside to demonstrate.

  “It’s a shadow box. You can get inside and dance. Most women seem to have fun doing a little strip ease.”

  She snorted at the suggestively playful waggle of his brows.

  “In your dreams, Mr. Universe.”

  “You’ll be the star of that show, Tiger Lily,” he told her with a wide grin. Before he flicked off the bright light, Dillon considered what it would look like from this side, to be completely enclosed in that box with him sitting in the chair below, unable to see anything except her shadow.

  She got the appeal.

  Nasa led her up a fantastic staircase made of reclaimed wood and hand-forged iron rails. At the top, they turned right, and Nasa pointed out the private lounge and bar area that had a perfect view of everything happening on the floor below.

  “Members aren't allowed to have alcohol unless it's up here, and if they're drinking, they're not playing. The private rooms are this way.”

  Nasa led her down to the open hallway, glancing back at her as they passed room three, pausing outside door number four.

  “Balls out.”

  The reminder of her promise to tell him how she was feeling made her grin. “Balls are out, and I'm nervous, but the same kind of nervous you get at the top of the roller coaster.”

  Nasa smirked, twisted the door knob, and showed her into a room that looked like something out of a spa catalog. Again, not anywhere near the scary images she'd had in her mind.

  The walls were painted a deep, smoky gray with a section of mirrors along the one side. A shaggy silver rug covered the glossy black floor beneath the wide massage table in the center of the room, and the cut metal ceiling had tiny holes pricked across the surface to give the illusion of starlight.

  “This is one of the aftercare rooms,” Nasa told her. “Sometimes the play can be intense—the emotional or physical release so great, the submissive goes into a state of acute sensitivity.

  "Too much outside stimulation can ruin the experience, so they come up here and spend time with their partner, being soothed and allowed to come back down to earth as gently as possible.”

  Dillon noticed an abundance of soft, fluffy blankets, towels, and cotton sheets for the mas
sage table, all neatly folded onto the shelving unit, an array of oil choices, and a wide range of aromatherapy options.

  Elka kept pace right at her heel while Dillon explored, opening the only other door in the room to find a large bathroom, complete with one of those free-standing soaking tubs.

  “There should be a robe on the back of the door,” Nasa said from right behind her, causing Dillon to stiffen up only for the briefest of moments.

  “Most times, people go naked for their massage, but if you feel more comfortable with your panties on, that's fine. Get changed, and I'll set up out here. What kind of oil would you like me to use?”

  Dillon half-turned to look over her shoulder, her belly twisting in knots even as arousal sparked through her because of that voice of his, low and gritty, had her feeling jittery and nervous in the best way possible.

  “Whatever you prefer.”

  His eyes were warm, his nostrils flared, and Dillon knew if she looked down, she'd see the bulge of his erection.

  “Take your time.”

  Dillon shut the bathroom door and faced her reflection in the mirror. In her session today, Dillon talked with Dr. White about the discussion she'd had with Top.

  Dr. White listened attentively, as she always had, and Dillon confessed she felt more at home inside the biker compound at Perdition than she ever had in any of her own carefully constructed fortresses.

  Dr. White proposed some of Dillon's feelings came from Nasa's proximity, and with some thorough self-examination, Dillon couldn't deny it.

  They also talked about what it would mean to go back to Dallas. She didn't feel safe in her home there; she was alone. The people she thought were her safety net were unreliable, and the Leviathans knew where she lived.

  Dillon outfitted secure homes all over the place, not just in Texas. It wasn't like she’d lose business by moving, and now was an opportune time to do it.

  Nasa made it plain he wanted her around, but three weeks into a high-stress situation didn’t feel like the best time to judge whether or not any kind of sustainable relationship could be forged. Then again, Top and Dr. White both saw a change in Nasa, which suggested he was planning for the long-term.