Page 105 of Obedience

The walls Greta had spent years building were now smouldering ash, burned to the ground by the fire Dylan had brought into her life. It was the surprising intensity of it all, after two years of slowly building feelings, that had finally razed every last brick surrounding her broken heart. Now, that heart hung in her chest, beating wildly as she made love to the woman she had finally allowed herself to fall in love with and claim as hers. This was the same heart that had only ever known the love of one woman—the heart she had kept packed away, stored safe from harm behind her ribs. The heart she was giving Dylan the absolute power to destroy, and a deep trust that she wouldn't, as it battered ferociously against muscle and bone.

It was a heart made beautiful again; glowing pink and beating rhythmically beneath shining streaks of gold.

With her arms clinging tighter to Dylan’s neck to anchor herself, Greta’s slow rocking lost its gentle slide. The movement turned into a harder, hungrier grind, her weight pressing deeper with every shift. Deep moans thrummed in her throat, her warm gasps and broken breaths escaping her open mouth. ‘Ohh, Dylan…’ she whispered, the words landing hot against Dylan’s ear.

Drawing in a slow breath, Dylan pulled back, looking up with heavy lidded eyes. ‘I love you, Greta,’ she said softly. The short sentence fractured; she swallowed audibly and let out a shaky sigh. ‘I fucking love you.’

Greta kissed her again, swallowing Dylan’s moans, softly licking into her mouth and moaning against her face as their movement gathered momentum. The newly declared confessions, still dancing in the air, seemed to displace the oxygen, leaving Greta light-headed as they gasped under the exquisite pleasure of their building orgasms. Greta ground herself down to meet Dylan’s slow, almost imperceptible thrusts, until Dylan’s hips grew more urgent and her grip around Greta’s body tightened.

Their bodies locked into a desperate, perfect sync, moving as one, holding each other so fiercely they would surely be bruised when their bodies finally parted. With her hands buried deep in Dylan’s hair, Greta held fistfuls of soft curls as she gently pulled Dylan’s head back, her open mouth finding her exposed her throat. Their clenched moans and desperate sobs were suddenly too hard to stifle. The air was thick with raw desire, the sweat pooling between them useless in cooling their hot bodies.

As Greta rocked harder and pushed deeper, Dylan’s ragged breaths spilled onto her skin. ‘Oh fuck, Greta, please…’ Greta crashed her mouth to Dylan’s to muffle her pleas. With her eyes slammed shut and their faces pressed tight, Greta’s orgasm thundered through her, wetness running down the dildo and spilling over Dylan’s lap. ‘Fuuuck!’ Dylan moaned. The word quietly and slowly unfurled as she came, her head pushed into Greta’s breasts as Greta let her head fall back, her throat bared as she cried out Dylan’s name, unable to suppress the need to say it out loud and into the room.

As they grew still, the remnants of pleasure settling in their pressed-together bodies, they kissed. Though the kiss was wet, lazy and slow, it felt heavy with a weight that had nothing to do with the gravity of their circumstances and everything to do with what they had just confessed. It burned—not ferociously with white-hot urgency, but with a quiet, steady heat. It no longer carried everything they hadn’t said, every moment of restraint, every almost, or every lingering doubt. It no longer held the fear that they would be forced apart. Instead, it burned with their confession, their recognition, and their certainty. It flared with the quiet, unshakeable power that they could fight anything, as long as they fought it together.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Dylan whispered, ‘I love you,’ onto Greta’s parted lips.

Greta smiled, running a soft hand down Dylan’s cheek. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered back.

Chapter twenty-seven

Lucky dip fucking?

Peering over the top of her laptop, Dylan cocked an eyebrow as Greta crossed the bedroom. ‘Am I supposed to finish this dissertation while you flounce around in a T-shirt that skims your arse cheeks like that?’ The frustration in her tone was almost palpable.

Quickly whipping her body around, Greta raked her gaze over Dylan, who was propped up on cream linen pillows, wearing grey cotton shorts and nothing else but a smile. ‘Well, I managed to go about my business with you topless all the time, so you’ll have to cope,’ she said, flashing her biggest smile.

Dylan gave a crooked grin. ‘G, you’ve stolen all my T-shirts so what am I supposed to wear? Your silky camisole things don’t fit me.’

Greta let out a throaty laugh. ‘Nooo. Not really you, are they?’

‘Err, no.’ Dylan smiled. ‘Where are you going, anyway?’

‘Mind your business, St John.’

Dylan softly chuckled, watching Greta toss a smile over her shoulder and make a show of swaying her glorious hips as she left the room. Greta returned moments later.

‘Why did you never finish decorating this room, G?’ Dylan asked, her eyes scanning the bare Venetian plaster.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Greta looked at the walls. ‘It is finished, Dylan.’

‘Piss off! Is it really?’

‘Err, yeah,’ Greta confirmed, her tone incredulous.

‘Jesus. You rich folks. You’re all or nothing.’

Greta made her way back to the bed, shaking her head and chuckling, while holding onto a small brown box.

‘Whatcha got there, doctor?’ Dylan sing-songed as Greta climbed onto the bed beside her.

‘I know that we’re not managing much time together at the minute,’ Greta began, propping herself up next to Dylan.

Huffing out a worried sigh, Dylan closed her laptop. ‘I know, G. I’m sorry. Once this diss is in, I’ll–’

‘Dyl, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. You needed and deserved the extension for your dissertation. We knew it would all be tough logistically, it's been a couple of months and we’re doing fine,’ Greta said softly, her blinking quickened when Dylan didn’t speak. ‘We are doing fine, aren’t we?’

‘Abso-fucking-lutely,’ Dylan replied without missing a beat.