“I don't understand why they didn't...” The urge to scream at the unfairness of it all crawled up her throat in a rush of acidic heat, cutting off the words she would have said.
Nasa leaned in to press a slow line of kisses from her cheek to her forehead, his fingers burrowing through her hair to urge her to lean on him.
It felt like the easiest thing in the world to lean into him and let him hold her up for a minute.
“You don't understand why Patti and the detective were so quick to protect the shelter and the women inside, but by not following the rules about calling in the security breach the second she was safe, Patti didn't protect you.”
Nasa finished her sentence, and the air hissed from between her teeth, like steam escaping a boiling kettle.
“Rain said it was to keep me off the radar of the cops working Portia's homicide.”
Nasa huffed a derisive noise and hugged her closer. “Even if the cops asked Patti why she called you after the break in, she could honestly say it was because you handle the shelter security on behalf of the Monumentally Foundation.
“By not telling you about the breach, Patti left you completely in the dark, out there on your own with no idea Portia was dead or that the Leviathans were looking for whoever helped their victim get away.
“Detective Bolton is part of Vanguard, and she's a cop who knew two murder suspects were on the hunt. By advising Patti to stay quiet while she investigated on her own, she also put you at risk, which is suspicious any way you slice it. Won't lie, I'm surprised you're not on that phone, ripping Patti a new asshole.”
Dillon gave a strangled laugh, the sound muffled against the smooth leather of his cut. “I can't without letting her know I had to kill those guys, but I can express to her how failing to follow the shelter protocols and waiting to call me until three days after the fact to say some assholes might be looking for me was too little too late.”
“Yes,” he rumbled, rubbing another kiss into the skin just beside her ear. “You can.”
“What's the deal with women kneeling at your feet?”
His deep chuckle vibrated between them, and the pitch in his voice changed to gravel and grit. “Where did that come from?”
As Dillon hesitated to admit the desire she'd experienced while on the phone, Dr. White's voice came back to her.
"The more transparent you are in your communication, the better."
She took a deep breath, summoned up her courage, and told him the truth. “While I was talking with Rain, I got distracted by the way you were sitting. I thought about the erotic art I've seen, some books I've read, and I wondered what it would feel like to be kneeling there between your legs with my cheek on your thigh. I guess I'm curious, and I want to know why it's a thing.”
“You seemed comfortable sitting beside me on the deck the other day, resting against my leg.”
“I was,” Dillon admitted slowly. Nasa gave a satisfied hum, the hand in her hair flexing and releasing in a rhythm that started to make her drowsy with relaxation.
“It's part of the ritual, a protocol that's different for every couple,” Nasa told her. “To kneel can be a nonverbal expression of submission, placing oneself in a position of vulnerability.
"Physically shedding their clothes and whatever other roles they've played to signal submitting authority and control to their partner.
“If a couple is going to engage in their play for the evening, the submissive is often told to kneel, presenting themselves as an offering, giving their consent to their partner, performing the ritual to say they're ready for whatever comes next.
“After a scene, when a submissive is coming down from the endorphin high, kneeling at her dominant’s feet is her safe place. She can rest and take comfort in being close to him on her own terms.”
Dillon digested that information, not hearing anything that made her particularly uncomfortable or resistant. If anything, she was intrigued.
“What's your ritual?”
“I'd like to clarify something first before I answer that.” Nasa pulled back only as far as was necessary to meet her gaze, watching her with the focus of a hawk.
“I haven't been the kind of man to engage in long-term relationships.
“I play with women experienced in the lifestyle and outline very clearly what they can and can't expect from me, and whatever physical contact we've had doesn't extend outside the clubs.
"We call it play, but it's not always a game, and I don't bring my play partners home.
“As harsh as it probably sounds, I pick women who know the score and agree to my rules. I get what I want, I get them off, then I go home by myself.
“I haven't wanted anything deeper because I know I'm difficult to deal with, and most women would find life with me, surrounded by cameras at all times, incredibly uncomfortable.
“I like things exactly my way, I have deep seated issues about safety that extends beyond the realm of normalcy, and I'm not the type to settle for anyone just to have someone. If it doesn't feel important, why bother?”
“Sounds pretty straight forward to me,” Dillon answered, and for whatever reason, made Nasa smile.
“Good. So, the things I've done in other scenarios with other women do not apply to you.
"You aren't experienced in BDSM, and if you're curious, it's my job to do what I'm doing right now and explain.
"Then, if you're still curious or want to try, we find what works for you and what doesn't, together.
“I already know without you having to say it: restraints, whips, and anything related to impact play is off the table. That doesn't
