“If you'd like to know what it feels like to kneel at my feet while I'm sitting down, I will plant my ass in my chair and enjoy the fuck out of watching you discover if it works for you or if it doesn't.
"I will say, as a general rule, I'd much prefer to have you in my lap where I can touch, kiss, and cuddle you.”
With her heart thundering in her chest, her skin warm and tingling from the rush of endorphins brought on by his answer, and the feeling of his hand flexing in her hair, Dillon didn't fight the arousal pumping through her.
In fact, she was acutely aware of the tightening of her nipples against the lace of the bra she wore. One of the several Nasa had chosen for her back in Dallas.
She could feel the blood pulsing there, how her breasts felt mildly swollen and tender, how her pussy rippled with heat, soaking her panties.
The more he massaged and tugged at her scalp, the more he spoke, Dillon fell deeper into his thrall.
“In the context of teaching you what it means to play in my world, I would say something like, 'it's our time now,' and our ritual would begin. Every time, you would follow the same protocol.
“For example: going to the bathroom, drinking a glass of water, taking your clothes off to fold and place them in a specific spot, then coming back to kneel in front of me.
“It's every bit a mental preparation as it is a physical one. Following the ritual to get yourself in the head space for whatever comes next.
"You, giving yourself the time you need to let me have complete control of your body and authority to make any and all decisions from that point forward.
“In kneeling, you shed all responsibility and put yourself in my hands. There is no fault or judgment. There is nothing outside this room.
"No Ghost, no Leviathans, no worrying about why Patti didn't follow the rules, or what's going to happen tomorrow. From the moment you kneel at my feet, it's you, me, and nothing else.
“It's letting go of everything, allowing me to guide you where we need to go, focusing on the sound of my voice, my hands on your body, and the sensations that follow.
"When you wander, I'll bring you back because I'm in the driver's seat and you've agreed to come along for the ride.”
“It kind of sounds like guided meditation,” she murmured, acknowledging everything he described sounded incredibly enticing.
Nasa gave a slight nod. “Pretty damn close, actually. It's my responsibility to learn to read your body language, to listen to what you say, how you say it, and act accordingly.
"I can promise you the orgasms will be unlike anything else you've ever felt before, the release so intense you might feel like you'll float away without my hands on you.
“Feelings—emotional and physical—will overwhelm you, maybe even scare you, but I'll be right there to hold you steady. You'll cry, scream, moan. If I'm lucky, you might even beg.
“If it's too much and you say stop, it's over, but if I've done it right, you'll come to crave those things you thought were overwhelming because I've proved to you there's no safer place in the world than right here.”
His eyes had darkened as his pupils dilated, such a deep, dark blue they were almost black, and just about the time Dillon started to get a crick in her neck staring up at him, Nasa's fingers spread wide on her skull, moving down to cradle her neck in his palm.
“Tell me what you're thinking,” he commanded, his voice no louder than a whisper, as powerful as a rumbling growl of thunder.
It never crossed her mind to deny him. “I'm thinking if I'd read all that in some book before today, I might not have been so negatively activated by the idea of BDSM.
"But then again, if I read it instead of hearing your voice describing it to me, I would probably still have brushed it off.
“I'm wondering what it would be like to not worry about nine-million things at once and be able to rest, to let you take control.
"I'm thinking about how much it doesn't scare me because you've already been doing it in small increments.
“I'm thinking about the last time I wanted to kiss someone, and it's been so long, I'm really hoping I remember how.”
Dillon's knees went a little weak when Nasa ducked his head to rub his nose alongside hers. Their lips were so close a deep breath would have brought them together.
“I hear it's like riding a bike,” he told her, but Dillon hadn't ever liked riding a bike as much as she liked the feel of his kiss.
He eased her into it, his lips moving across hers like an artist's first brush strokes on a blank canvas. Gentle, eager to see how their imagination would breathe life into the painting.
Dillon melted into the sensation, into him without so much as a hint of discomfort or uncertainty, growing bolder when the tentative lick of her tongue across the tempting swell of his bottom lip made Nasa give a deep groan in answer.
Sparks, chemistry, connection. Dillon felt it consume her in a dizzying rush, and even though the arousal burning her up inside raged with all the energy of a wildfire, Nasa never changed the pace.
He tilted his head this way and that, pulling her closer, his entire hand spread wide on her ass to ensure there wasn't an inch of separation between their bodies.
When Dillon opened her mouth to gasp for air, he didn't surge in to take possession of her mouth. He licked at her lips, her teeth, and sensually coiled his tongue around hers.
Simultaneously, Dillon mourned the fact that no one had ever kissed her with such dedicated focus and celebrated for the same exact reason.
They kissed until Dillon's lips felt swollen, buzzing
