Page 49 of Obedience

She pulsed and throbbed, her slick walls wrapping around the dildo. Dylan’s eyes grew wide just as Greta turned her head to the side, trembling and jolting on top of her.

‘Don’t move,’ Dylan’s voice was a ragged, breathless demand in Greta’s ear. She tightened her grip, pulling down Greta’s pelvis, holding the back of her neck with her strong hand. ‘Please don’t fucking move. Greta I…I’m com— Fuck!’

Dylan’s moans were loud, louder than they should have been in the quiet house. With one hand now braced against the headboard above her and her other arm pinning Greta’s chest and belly flush against her own. The grip of Greta’s thighs tightened as Dylan’s climax crashed through her; muscles tensing and twitching, her head forced back into the pillow, as she came hard. A suppressed low guttural groan forced its way from Greta, as the grind of the dildo inside her forced her second release to thunder through her. Their sweat-drenched bodies lay pressed together as they rode out the aftershocks of their orgasms with fierce jolts and shudders.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, Dylan.’

‘I know,’ Dylan replied with a shaky, breathless laugh as she slowly released her grip. ‘Holy shit.’

Bracketing Dylan’s head with her arms, Greta raked her gaze over Dylan’s flushed face before kissing her softly. Slowly raising herself on wobbly thighs—her muscles still trembling—she lay half on top of Dylan. Reaching down, Dylan tentatively eased the dildo out of herself just as Greta’s thigh draped over her hip, wasting no time in getting as close as she could. With her ear resting against Dylan’s chest, Greta closed her eyes. She listened to the frantic, beautiful drumming of Dylan’s heart; tachycardic and beating wildly as if it were about to break out of her chest. Somewhere in the overwhelming intimacy they now shared, they were still becoming, each moment together carrying them further from the people they had once been.

The silence stretched for a long beat. Beneath Greta’s cheek, Dylan’s chest stayed still for a moment too long, her breath caught in her throat. With Dylan’s exhale came the words she was clearly hesitant to say.

‘Stay with me tonight?’

Chapter fifteen

Instant ramen

Afew moments passed before Greta drew in a long breath and spoke.

‘I should probably go, Dylan, I—’

‘Please, Greta. I really don’t want you to leave, and I don’t think you want to go either. I know this isn’t your fancy pants apartment, but—’

‘It’s not that…don’t be silly,’ Greta said softly.

The idea of her apartment felt cold and sterile compared to the warmth of Dylan’s bed and body, but she had a sudden, inexplicable instinct to put distance between them.

‘Neither of us fared well in being pulled apart last night. Did we?’

Greta pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Dylan’s chest, the bounding rhythm of her heart beneath her lips. ‘That’s true,’ she whispered. It was truer than Dylan could possibly know.

‘I would have stayed with you longer last night if I could. I know you wanted me to stay.’ Greta sighed, feeling a sudden, bone-deep exhaustion, the kind that only comes when you relent and finally stop fighting. ‘Stay with me, Greta.’ Dylan’s tone had become lighter and more hopeful. She pulled her chin to her chest to better see Greta. ‘I’ll make you some toast? Tea? I have instant ramen.’ A genuine, raspy chuckle escaped Dylan’s throat at the ridiculous notion of offering one of Manchester’s most revered and renowned oncologists a bowl of instant noodles.

‘You should have led with that, Dylan.’ Greta’s tone had finally lost its tense edge, her lips curling into a smile on Dylan’s chest.

‘So you’ll stay?’

‘I’d move in for ramen noodles.’

‘Steady on you massive lesbian!’ Dylan laughed, craning her neck as she looked toward the window. ‘Shit, did you arrive in a U-Haul van?’

‘Shut up,’ Greta chuckled, nudging her shoulder into Dylan’s ribs

‘Seriously, though. Is all your stuff parked outside? Are we doing this?’

Greta let out a deep, melodic laugh, her entire body vibrating against Dylan as she continued to chuckle. Held tight in Dylan's arms, the messy, beautiful reality of Greta seemed to completely wash away any lingering remnants of Margot.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Greta asked quietly, running her fingers over the defined contours of Dylan’s stomach.

‘If it’s what colour Farrow and Ball I would like us to have in the bathroom, no, you can't. It's too expensive and too soon!’ Greta’s head bobbed as Dylan laughed at her own joke.

‘You are insufferable, Miss St John.’

Dylan squeezed her. ‘What did you want to ask me?’

‘Did you really never orgasm with your other clients?’ Greta took a steadying breath. ‘Not even the ones that wanted you to?’