Dillon stuttered as she struggled to verbalize exactly what she wanted, but she watched his expression turn molten, and the smile that spread across his face left Dillon feeling more than a little breathless. His voice roughened, deepened, and already so sensitive, the whisper-light skim of his fingertips on her shoulder nearly pulled a whimper out of her.
“You're doing so good. Balls out, tell me what you need. Nothin' more I want to do than give it to you.”
Even as his praise made her glow, a lick of frustration and embarrassment tainted the moment.
He was the kinky dominant one, couldn't he just... dominate and take control? She waited, hoping if she kept hesitating or kept him waiting, he would take over.
He didn't.
Nasa remained mute, smiling at her when she would have much rather have him rip her clothes off. Something Dr. White said to her earlier today chose that moment to bubble up.
“Nasa is a master of himself. His control is absolute, and he will never take your choice away unless your life is in danger. Right now, he's following your lead, as he should.
“Until he learns to read your nonverbal cues and how to respond to them without activating your traumas, uncomfortable as you'll no doubt find it, expect to do a lot of talking and explaining.”
Dillon struggled to meet his gaze, letting her hands trail down to the collar of his cut, rubbing at the buttery leather between her fingers. “My clothes are too tight, I'm hot, and I feel like I'm going to shake right out of my skin.
"I want you, but I'm so used to the anxiety, the panic attacks, and the hypervigilance, the need for sex is as much of a relief as it is uncomfortable. This doesn't happen to me.”
Nasa moved his palms around to frame her waist, digging his fingers in with enough pressure to get her attention, gently reeling her in until she was pressed against him from tits to thighs.
He bent until their mouths just barely touched, his breath warm and sweet, every word a sensual caress. “It's normal for the fear of death to remind us what it is to feel alive.”
“It doesn't feel normal,” Dillon replied, and rocked up on her toes to steal a quick kiss that turned into a searing tangle of lips, teeth, and tongue.
She only tore her mouth away to ask one question: “Am I going to have to spell out where and how I want Tab A to fit into Slot B?”
Nasa chuckled wickedly. “No. We'll go with the flow this time. Tell Elka she's off duty.”
Dillon obeyed, watching Elka head to the couch instead of the fluffy dog bed by Dillon's desk, stretching out as much as possible with a happy groan.
“Dillon.” Nasa's smoky rumble got her absolute attention. “Colt,” he said, holding his hand up, smirking when she reached behind her to grab her weapon and hand it over. The pistol looked so tiny in his enormous hand.
When he pulled his own much larger Desert Eagle from under his left arm, it was to nestle the two guns side by side in his bedside drawer.
“You hiding anything else on you?”
Without a word, Dillon reached under her shirt to unclip the gravity knife from her bra. Nasa pressed the button, and the blade whipped out with a soft snick.
“That it?” His throaty growl of approval literally made her womb clench.
“Yep.”
“No hidden taser or one of those collapsible Bo staves?” he teased, gripping the hem of her fluttery tank top to pull up over her head, laying it across his wooden valet stand behind him.
Her blood hummed, pumping hard enough through her veins she could feel the pulse and contractions beneath her skin.
Dillon slid her palms up his chest, pushing the leather from his shoulders. “I couldn't fit anything else on me without it being obvious, but there's a multi-tool, another knife, and six clips of ammo in my purse. I forgot it in the truck.”
“I'll get it later for you,” he promised.
With all the things he had in his pockets, the vest was incredibly heavy, and her indigo tank looked positively delicate beneath the thick black leather.
She’d turned around to hang the vest on his valet stand, and not even thinking about it, Dillon gave Nasa her back.
He took sensual advantage, his lips finding the hollow of her shoulder, his hands curving over her biceps, sweeping her bra straps down her arms.
A quick flick and a shiver-inducing stroke down her spine had the lace cups sagging off her chest.
He must have shucked his shirt in a hurry because she felt the fiery heat of his chest against her back, those enormous hands of his tossing her bra aside to take her breasts in hand.
“You caught me off guard earlier at Pavlovia,” he told her hoarsely, gently squeezing and plucking at her nipples until they were hard as rocks. “I forgot to tell you how fuckin' sexy you are. How proud I am of you for being so brave.”
Her head fell back on his shoulder as though the bones had vanished from her neck. His praise whispered in her ear did amazing things to her, draining all the tension from her body, leaving her glowing inside and out.
“You make me feel that way.”
“I'm glad. Kick your shoes off.” Dillon did as he said, closing her eyes to better feel the sensation of his palms moving down her belly. “Did Collette talk to you about safe words?”
“Yes. If I say the word, everything stops.”
Nasa made a gentle sound in his throat, his teeth scraping against her shoulder. Against one of her scars. An electric zing of shock sizzled like a lightning strike throughout her body, surprising her into sucking in a startled breath.
“That's right. Pick a word for me.”
“Apricot.”
Nasa chuckled, but he didn't tease her or ask her why. “Apricot it is. Say it, and everything comes to a screeching
