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 her 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.”
