Page 68 of Obedience

Dylan pushed, blowing hard huffs of air through her nose and mouth against Greta’s skin. Greta slapped wildly at her, screaming Dylan’s name, begging and pleading for her to stop. Only then did Dylan mercifully pull back, watching Greta thrash for another moment before her flailing limbs finally stilled and her hysterical laughter began to subside.

‘Oh my God, you cannot do that!’ Greta yelled.

‘Who says I can’t!?’ Dylan replied defiantly. She moved threateningly slowly toward Greta’s neck again, making Greta clamp her limbs around Dylan and hold her chin tight against her collarbone. ‘You’re not the boss of me anymore.’

‘Don’t!’ Greta ordered sternly, before levelling her voice. ‘Dylan, no! Please,’ she whined. ‘I can’t cope with—’ The high-pitched word ‘it’ flew from her mouth as Dylan playfully buried herself back into Greta’s neck, forcing her mouth to the impossibly ticklish spot. ‘Dylan, please, I can’t!’ Greta was lost to her mounting hysteria.

Dylan pulled away, laughing loudly. She widened her eyes and puffed out her cheeks, before kissing the tip of Greta’s nose. ‘That’s good to know, for when I need to bring you in line. Remind y’all who’s the boss around here,’ Dylan joked, in a deep Southern American accent, for some absurd reason.

‘Oh, shut up and kiss me,’ Greta said with an eye roll.

Smile pressed against smile, they kissed.

Chapter nineteen

Poundshop King Kong

‘How is she?’ Greta asked from the opposite side of the kitchen island, dressing gown cinched around her waist, hand poised to press the cafetière plunger.

‘She’s okay…a bit better. We started off in A&E resus but—’

‘Shit Dyl, do you need to go?’

‘No, it’s okay, I rang a few times overnight, she’s doing better. They stepped her down to the ward last night. It’s not unusual for that to happen in the first twenty-four hours. She has a penchant for scaring the shit out of everyone then rallying quickly. Priya will keep me in the loop. I’ll need to go up soon though.’

‘I could drive you,’ Greta offered while pouring the delicious smelling coffee into two cups.

‘You can drive?’

Greta continued to pour without looking up. ‘Well, after assessing my forty-nine-year-old reaction times, the DVLA were satisfied I didn’t pose a danger to myself or the public and kindly let me keep my licence.’

Dylan chuckled and shook her head. ‘No, I mean, you have a car?’

‘Are you doing your Master’s in the art of stupid questions, Miss St John? Because it’s clearly going very well.’

Dylan snort-laughed through her nose. ‘Margot? Is that you?’

‘Fuck off,’ Greta muttered around her smile, pulling the milk from the fridge door.

‘What car have you got?’

‘I have a Jeep.’

‘Wrangler?’

‘A-ha,’ Greta nodded.

‘I fucking knew it! They are undeniably the wheels of a bossy bottoming Fem-domina—’

‘Fuck off, Dylan!’ Greta laughed, shaking her head at the relentless teasing as she poured milk into both coffees.

Greta crossed the kitchen, placing the cup in Dylan’s hand. Dylan immediately set it down before turning on her stool to trap Greta between her legs. Pressing into her with flat hands against Dylan’s chest, Greta canted her head as she scanned her face.

‘Jesus, you’re so young, Dylan,’ she said, suddenly earnest.

‘That may be the case, Doctor Vincent, but all that matters really when you’re shagging someone younger is that they have a fully developed prefrontal cortex,’ Dylan laughed and crossed her eyes. ‘And I haz one of doze.’

‘Hmmm,’ Greta hummed dubiously, lips pursed around a smile as she ran her hand down Dylan’s cheek. Dylan watched her brown eyes as they examined her face. ‘When were you born?’