Page 19 of Obedience

‘Yeah. I didn’t just miss our sex. I-I’ve missed you.’ Dylan stepped toward her. ‘I’ve thought about you nonstop for weeks. Probably longer.’ Reaching forward, she placed a hand over the first button of Greta's jacket. Greta’s eyes followed, fixed on her own chest rising and falling beneath the fabric. With an effortless snap of her fingers, Dylan flicked open the button. Greta’s eyes flickered shut, she didn’t stop her. ‘I told you. I’m done with Margot,’ Dylan whispered.

Dylan opened the next button with the same deft move, fingertips grazing lightly over Greta’s cleavage.

‘Did I give you permission—’ Greta started to speak, her voice devoid of its usual grit and composure.

Dylan cut her off by pressing a fingertip to her full lips. ‘This is my house, Greta. The rules are mine.’

Greta’s eyes closed again. A soft whimper escaped her as Dylan ran a hand inside the coat, brushing lightly over her breasts. Dylan watched her lips part as her breathing visibly faltered.

‘Fuck,’ Greta whispered, her eyes softly closing as her head fell forward.

Dylan moved closer, untying the belt and unfastening the remaining buttons with the fingers of both hands. ‘It would be rude of you to come to my house and presume to tell me anything. Wouldn’t you agree?’ She flicked the last button, ran her hands under the jacket and pushed it over Greta’s impossibly smooth shoulders, allowing it to land in a puddle at her feet. Her lace bra and knicker set coaxed a noise from Dylan, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. The electrifying force between them displaced the oxygen in the hall as Dylan struggled to fill her chest. While gently holding Greta’s face Dylan leaned in. ‘I asked you a question,’ she whispered, tracing the shell of Greta’s ear with her lips. ‘Doctor Vincent.’

Dylan lightly feathered her lips back down Greta’s jaw as they hovered playfully and painfully close to Greta’s.

Dropping her head, Greta inhaled sharply. ‘I can’t do this,’ she said softly.

Frantically blinking, Dylan stepped back immediately, out of Greta’s space. ‘Shit. Are you ok? I’m sorry, I—’

‘No, it’s not you. I–I need to leave.’

Dylan’s brows drew together. ‘Don’t leave, Greta. Please. We can talk. We don’t have to—’

‘I can’t do this, Dylan,’ Greta said, a tremble creeping into her voice as her eyes glistened with unspent tears. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’

Dylan held Greta by the shoulders, dipping her head to catch her gaze. ‘We don’t have to do anything. We can just—’

‘I can’t be here. What the fuck am I doing? I’m losing my mind. You’re making me lose my fucking mind.’ Greta covered her face with her hands, acquiescing as Dylan pulled her in, holding her as tight as she possibly could against her.

‘I’m sorry, Greta.’

For the briefest moment, Greta seemed to soften in her arms before her body went rigid again. Raising her forearms Greta pressed them into Dylan’s chest, pushing her away. ‘Please, Dylan, don’t.’

With no other choice, Dylan let Greta go, bending quickly to retrieve the jacket from the floor and draping it over her shoulders. Greta slid her arms into the sleeves and wrapped the coat around herself, tying the belt with a sharp tug. A single tear slipped down her cheek, she scrubbed it away quickly, turning her face to the side, as though she couldn’t bear to let Dylan see it.

Dylan saw it.

They waited in silence for the mercifully fast Uber. Greta left without saying a word.

Chapter seven

House of Books and Friends

Two weeks passed in silence and Dylan’s plates were now spinning more precariously than ever, as she juggled her mother’s care and a stalled dissertation with the escorting she now loathed. While she once enjoyed her clients' escapism and seeing them truly having a good time, thoughts of Greta now consumed her completely, leaving no room in her mind for anything else. Training daily, sometimes twice, she still couldn’t clear her mind of the woman she now physically ached for.

‘Dyllydally, what’s going on with you?’ Priya said, eyes locked on Dylan as she busied herself loading the dishwasher.

‘With me?’

Priya scrutinised Dylan’s face. ‘Aye. You.’

‘Nothing.’

‘Ohh, right, nothing is it?’ Priya echoed, arms crossed over her chest. ‘So you’re just out here living your best life, that right?’

‘Mmhmm,’ Dylan hummed nonchalantly, tonguing her cheek as she popped a detergent tablet inside the tiny compartment of the dishwasher door, and closed the little flap with a satisfying click.

With narrowed eyes, Priya slowly raked her gaze over Dylan. ‘What are you hiding from in that gym?’