by Isabel Wroth
When Ghost was giving them his villain monologue at the shelter, he said something about being forced to alter plans that would benefit 'all of us.' Obviously, he'd failed to mention which 'us' he meant, but with the new information about the info on the drive, Dillon wondered if 'us' referred to Perdition, the task force, and the world at large.
“I'm on board with whatever you guys decide, but I appreciate being included.”
Nasa palmed the back of her neck to squeeze gently, and Top rapped his knuckles on the table.
“Then majority rules: we're gonna sit on it. Not forever, just for now. Let's get back to work. Nasa, keep us posted on that real-time tracking thing.”
Nasa gave a tight nod, the muscles in his cheeks flexing as he repetitively flexed his jaw.
“Will do.”
After Top pushed to his feet and shuffled out—still scowling deeply—Damon thumped the table to get everyone's attention and lifted his finger to draw a circle in the air.
“Good time for PT.”
Raid grunted as he shoved away from the table and stood. “I could definitely stand to beat on some shit.”
The rest of the guys all grumbled in agreement, and Nasa looked to her, lifting his chin in a manly jerk.
“Feel like going for a run?”
“In this heat?” she scoffed incredulously. “Hell no. A large adult beverage and a nice view of you guys playing with your primate enrichment tools will make me very happy.”
Every man at the table looked around at one another before Damon leaned forward to peer at her through narrow eyes. “Primate enrichment tools?”
Nasa strolled over to lean down behind her, pressing a kiss to the soft spot behind her ear.
“Dillon thinks our PT field looks a bit like a post-apocalyptic gorilla playground.”
It seemed that the bikers all held their breath, waiting for Damon's reaction. After fighting it for a few tense moments, Dillon was relieved when he burst out laughing.
*****
One by one, the bikers filed out until she and Nasa were alone, and he spun her around in her chair to crouch down in front of her. Nasa reached out to trail a long finger down the slope of her cheek, managing to somehow look seductive and frustrated at the same time.
“It's Tuesday, which means Damon is gonna kick our ass on cardio. It is hot as hell outside, and I'd much rather get my work out downstairs. I brought up the sawhorse and some toys to play with.”
The breath stuttered out of her in a rush as she imagined all the ways Nasa could utilize said toys. Dillon turned her face to catch the pad of his finger between her teeth, feeling her body ignite when his eyes darkened to a turbulent ocean blue.
“I did notice you'd set up some mirrors. Was that for my benefit or yours?”
“Both. I'm discovering you like to watch for reasons beyond personal safety.”
Dillon didn't deny it. At his feet, she was learning all kinds of things about her own sexual expression, and yeah, she liked watching what he did to her. More than that, she liked to watch him. The dark, decadent look of absolute pleasure on his face, the wicked smirk while he lavished her with his attention was absolutely captivating.
Nasa hadn't been exaggerating when he told her how powerful his mastery over her could be. Neither had his claim of absolute freedom from the things weighing her down.
When they were together, there was nothing but his voice in her ear whispering all the unbelievable things he would do to her, and the feel of his hands on her body creating those sensations that did indeed make her scream, cry, and beg for more.
He told her the things he made her feel would make it seem like she'd explode into a million pieces and float away without his hands on her, and he wasn't wrong, but not one time had Dillon feared the release.
When they were alone, it was just the two of them. Nothing else, no one else, no worries from the day or frustrations of questions unanswered, intruded. When they were alone, Nasa was her entire universe.
“I do like to watch,” Dillon admitted softly, reaching out to gently spread her palm over the tattoo hidden beneath his shirt. “But I was thinking, maybe um... maybe today I could try wearing those cuffs I saw in your trunk of stuff?”
Nasa curled his hands around her calves, using the firm grip to spread her knees and pull her closer, his brows drawn together in a speculative frown.
“Tell me why you think you're ready for that.”
She sipped in a cool breath of air, shivering when his thumbs slid into the crease of her thighs to press at the tendons with the intent to further arouse her. Dillon held up her wrist to show him the watch he'd given her.
“After what I went through, I couldn't even stand to wear long-sleeved shirts with tight wrist cuffs. I haven't worn a bracelet or a watch in well over ten years, but the last few times I've gone to take a shower by myself and had to take it off my watch, or take it off to charge, I feel anxious and—if I'm being honest—worried about you not knowing where I am even though you're literally in the next room.
“I know I'm not anywhere near ready to think about being tied down or restrained, I'm not sure I ever will be, but I've come to rely on the way the watch feels on my arm, the weight of it. It makes me feel like you've got your hand on me all the time, and it's comforting.”
Nasa hummed a deep sound of understanding and got up, taking her by the wrists to pull her to her feet. He squeezed hard enough for her to feel it but not hard enough to hurt. Dillon held his stare, wondering what he was looking for as he searched her face. She would have asked, but Damon poked his head back into the conference room and wanted to know what the holdup was.
“I'm busy,” Nasa answered calmly, giving her another firm squeeze before urging her along in his wake. Damon must have seen the look of intent on Nasa's face, because Damon didn't protest.
Dillon followed, each step she took made excitement dance along her nerve endings. At the bottom of the stairs, Nasa turned to face her, and her breath caught to see the familiar look of sensual hunger in his heavy-lidded gaze.
He didn't need to say it, but the words, the gritty rumble of his voice made butterflies swarm through her belly.
“It's our time.”
“Okay,” Dillon whispered back, rocking up on her toes to kiss the hard edge of his jaw before retreating to the bathroom to observe her ritual or preparing herself for their play. It wasn't lost on her, how every action served to calm her that much more.
Every piece of clothing she removed was a physical layer of stress and uncertainty, discarded.
When she came out naked, she was free. Unafraid, unencumbered, focused completely on where Nasa stood beside the thickly padded sawhorse across the room.
He'd taken his boots and socks off, but it was part of their ritual for her to take off his cut, put it on the wooden valet stand, then come back to do the same with his shirt. Today, Dillon added one more thing, leaning in to press a kiss to the plastic protecting his tattoo.
Before she could kneel down, Nasa wrapped his arm around her waist and palmed the back of her head to hold her in place. Smiling, Dillon turned her cheek to his chest, closing her eyes to rest in his embrace.
She sighed happily when he let her go, the slide to her knees easy and familiar now. He stepped away to lean his wide shoulders against the wall, taking a moment to rake his gaze over her appreciatively.
With a throaty rumble, Nasa reached down to shift the obvious pole of his erection in his jeans before making a pair of wide black cuffs appear from behind his back.
Nasa turned them over in his hands, showing her how the silver D-rings were linked together by a clip. The leather looked unbelievably soft, well oiled, expertly cared for.
“These are a very basic pair of bondage cuffs, and I've never used this set on another woman. If you like the way it feels to wear them, I'll have another set custom-made to fit you.”
Dillon allowed herself to feel nervous, not about wearing the cuffs, but about failing to keep he
r cool if it turned out her traumas resurfaced, and she freaked out. When Nasa cupped her chin in his hand and swiped his thumb across her cheek, she wondered if it was because he could read her mind. Or if her worry was plain on her face for him to see.
“If you don't like the way it feels, you'll never see them again. Understood?” His reassurance made the burst of uncertainty fade away.
Dillon let an easy sigh pass her lips. “Understood.”
“Hands on my stomach,” he rumbled, and Dillon obeyed, spreading her palms wide on the soft skin covering the rock-hard muscles beneath. With a deft twist of his fingers, Nasa removed her watch and tucked it into his pocket.
“I want you to know how proud I am of you for being brave enough to try this, but if it's not what you think, I won't be disappointed.” Dillon nodded to say she heard him, but instead of cinching the leather around her wrists, Nasa offered them to her. “Examine them. Feel the texture of the leather, the weight. Tell me what you think.”
She accepted the cuffs, surprised because the leather itself was even softer than she imagined, squishy from the padding.
“They're heavier than I thought they'd be, and they're almost silky soft. Warm.” When she brought them to her nose, the scent immediately soothed her. “They smell like you. Like your cut.”
“It's the leather polish. Tell me how you feel right now.”
Dillon hummed, staring at his belt buckle while she let her thoughts turn inward, lifting one cuff to her cheek to feel it on her skin. “I feel good.”
“You're shaking.”
Was she? Huh. Dillon looked up at him then and noticed how intently Nasa studied her, his eyes tracking back and forth to catch every nuance of her expression.
“It's a little cold in here, and aside from putting these on, I have no idea what happens next. I'm excited.”
“Good.” Nasa knelt down to face her, taking the cuffs to set on the floor between them. Her heart flopped hard when he caught her hands, lifting one, then the other to press a kiss to her palms, rubbing it in with firm circles of his thumbs. “When you wear these cuffs, they are an extension of my hands. As such, they will never be used to hurt you or make you afraid.”
Practically hypnotized by his voice, Dillon stared at his face as he buckled the cuffs around her wrists— at the content, eager smile curving his lips and the patience in his eyes.
“Still okay?” he murmured softly, lacing his fingers with hers. “I kept the right one a little loose to keep it from irritating your brand.”
Dillon looked at their joined hands, at the difference in their skin tones. His, darker from time spent in the sun gripping the handlebars of his motorcycle. Hers, pale because she wore gloves when she worked outside, which made the black ink now decorating her skin stand out all the more.
“Still okay,” Dillon confirmed.
With a sound of happy relief, Nasa pulled on her hands to guide them behind his neck. She linked her fingers together, holding on as he stroked his palms over her arms and down her back. When he made it to her hips, he surprised her by jerking her across his lap, his fingertips clenching possessively on her butt.
Bending to capture her lips in a fierce kiss, Nasa didn't give her much time to think about the way it felt to have his jeans scrape across her pussy. The moan was almost involuntary, pulled from deep inside her as lust, love, and passion ignited between them.
Just as quickly, he pulled back, his voice echoing between them like the rumble of an oncoming thunderstorm, electrifying her, making the fine hair on her body stand up and quiver with anticipation.
“I love you.”
Dillon felt the words etch themselves into her heart with all the permanence of the tattoo inked on her arm.
“I love you, too.”
“Are you ready to play?”
Dillon flexed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles in her arms push against the cuffs. In the same way the indigo band of her watch did, the clasp of the leather made her feel safe, because she was. She couldn't imagine anywhere else in the universe where she could possibly be any safer than with Nasa.
“I'm ready.”
Afterword
Salutations my fair friends!
I want to give a big shout out to my support crew who stood by and let me pace circles in the rug while I tried to work out how to make this book happen.
And I want to thank y'all again for being so patient with me. I hope in reading the forward you understand why it was such a difficult journey for me, and why it had to be just right.
I'm working on a big giveaway that I'll post first in my FB group, and if you've read this afterward you'll know to utilize Apricot in the sign-up form when it drops. I'm also working with an artist to create a fun patch that says, ROD Crew.
No, that wasn't a typo. ;)
My Ride or Die Crew, who've been with me from the start.
Stay tuned on my WEBSITE for updates, news, and a special blog entry where I'll post some photos of my Dad. Aside from the mane of silver hair, he and Top don't much look alike, but in essence, they are the same person.
From my WEBSITE, you can find all my social links on FB, Instagram, and TikTok! You can also find the CONTACT ME form there if you have any direct questions, or want to join my newsletter.
If you enjoyed Dillon's Universe, please don't forget to leave a review on Amazon. It makes all the difference in the world to me, even if you only leave a star rating or a, 'this was great!' and leave it at that.
