Page 38 of Obedience

Greta’s eyes squeezed shut, her erratic breaths forcing her breasts up and down, shoulders rising and falling dramatically. All telling of the desperation of a woman who had finally run out of ways to say no.

‘Fuck,’ she breathed sharply, pressing her palms and fingers into the cold polished concrete. ‘Dylan, I—’

‘Do not finish that sentence, Greta, unless you are personally prepared to kick me out of this fucking building.’

With her forehead resting on the back of Greta’s head, Dylan dragged her hands down Greta's sides. Holding her firmly, she pushed herself against her again, harder this time, as her fingers dug into Greta's hips. Greta’s need was too strong, leaving her powerless to stop what came next. It was completely out of her control. With the next slow drag of Dylan’s body, Greta instinctively angled her hips back, meeting the pressure halfway.

‘I fucking crave you,’ Dylan breathed into Greta’s hair. ‘Turn around,’ she demanded softly, her fingers still buried in Greta’s flesh.

‘I can’t…’ Greta whimpered barely audibly, as emotion ravaged the strength of her voice.

‘You’re all I think about, Greta. All of the fucking time. You are consuming me completely. Now turn, the fuck, around.’

In a bid to ground herself, Greta white-knuckled the edge of the island as Dylan’s chest pressed into her back, before her parted lips found Greta’s skin. Dylan’s breaths grew louder as she reached down, running her hands up the back of Greta’s thighs and over the curves of her arse, before anchoring at her waist again. The loud gasp Greta was unable to suppress betrayed her, clear evidence that she was no longer able to hide the pleasure she derived from Dylan’s touch.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Dylan whispered, the hot words landing against Greta’s neck. Greta should have said yes. She should have said it was all too much. But she didn't speak; she simply moaned, pushing her arse into Dylan with increased pressure, grinding against her. The sudden sensation of Dylan’s warm hands inside her loose jumper, roaming over the soft skin of her belly drew another gasp from her throat. ‘Fuck, Greta. Please. Answer me.’

Greta’s internal voice warred with her, screaming at her to tell Dylan to stop.

‘No,’ she whispered. The power of her desire and the feeling of Dylan’s body against her annihilated Greta’s last bit of resolve as she moved an arm backwards over both of them, her hand seeking the back of Dylan’s head, forcing her mouth onto her neck. ‘No. I don’t want you to stop.’

With her open mouth pressed against Greta’s skin, Dylan hesitated. Greta could feel the sudden, agonising restraint in the way Dylan held still, her ragged breaths spilling from her as she hovered over the invisible line she was clearly afraid to cross.

Greta thought Dylan must have surmised that the no-kissing rule was about intimacy—perhaps the one thing that brought people too close, because Margot didn't believe Remi was worthy of it, or maybe that Margot just didn’t like it when she was being fucked. But what Greta wanted from Dylan now was the very opposite. The uncertainty was almost palpable through the stillness of Dylan’s lips.

There was a deliberate, heavy friction, though not a kiss, as Dylan’s mouth found the curve of Greta’s neck, a slow slide of full lips that gave way to another sharp, sudden nip against her skin. The damp caress of Dylan’s tongue followed, soothing the sting just as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind a trail of hot, wet flesh that sent a shiver straight down Greta's spine. The heat of Dylan’s mouth pressed firmly against the curve of her bare shoulder. Waiting.

As she gently tried to urge Greta’s resistant hips to turn, she whispered again, ‘Please turn around.’

Greta stood firm, resting her head back against Dylan. Reaching around, her hand found Dylan’s hip, pulling her closer by the pocket of her jeans, while pushing herself back into Dylan’s pelvis. The pulses in every part of her pounded with increased ferocity, as her body screamed what she couldn’t say with words.

‘Please don’t make me do that,’ Greta breathed. ‘I can’t kiss you.’

‘Why?!’ Dylan was beginning to sound overwhelmed by a desire that was fast becoming unbearable, she quickly asked again, her voice a ragged whisper. ‘Why, Greta?!’

Slowly rocking against her, Dylan’s hands spread across Greta’s belly, holding her as close as she could.

A kiss would make Dylan the first person her lips had touched since she’d lost the love of her life. The thought tore through her, yet she wanted more than anything to turn. To let Dylan hold her. To kiss her. To feel the closeness she’d denied herself for so long. Inside, every instinct screamed at her to turn into Dylan’s arms, but the feeling of betrayal and her broken fucking heart kept her rooted where she stood. Such an intimate connection wasn’t possible with anyone, let alone Dylan.

As if desperate for Greta’s mouth, yet hesitant to pressure her, Dylan took her hands from Greta’s waist and slowly pulled her sweatshirt over her head, discarding it onto the kitchen floor. After raising her arms up to help its swift removal, Greta slammed her hands back onto the island to steady herself as Dylan tenderly regathered her hair, moving it back over her shoulder. With Greta leaning forward, she felt the sudden heat of Dylan’s gaze against her bare back.

‘I’ve missed your body,’ Dylan breathed. The sensation of Dylan’s flat palm brushing the skin of her neck made Greta’s breaths hitch. She drew in a stuttering breath as the hand moved lower, trailing down between her shoulder blades, tracing her spine to the small of her back. Pressing flush against Greta’s arse again, Dylan let out a deep sigh at the contact. The force and heat of Dylan’s breath ghosting over Greta’s skin intensified, as she leaned forward before she stopped short, resting her forehead against Greta instead.

Dylan’s hands slid firmly over her ribs, warm against her skin as she moved upward to cup her breasts. As her nipples hardened against the thin padding of her bra, Greta let out a deep moan, her head falling forward. Moving her fingers to the back of her bra, Dylan deftly undid the clasp, running her fingertips under the straps to urge them down Greta’s arms. Allowing the bra to fall away from her body, Greta shivered at the sudden rush of cool air, goosebumps erupting over her skin.

Greta was unable to stop the moans of approval when Dylan’s hands found her full, soft breasts, her sensitive nipples becoming painfully taut under Dylan’s palms and fingers, leaving them aching for more. Unbidden touches were all Greta had craved for months and now it was happening she almost couldn’t stand the power of Dylan’s hands as she filled them, pulling Greta tight against her chest.

Needing to feel more of Dylan, Greta reached over her shoulder, her hand clawing at her T-shirt. ‘Take it off,’ Greta whispered.

Moving her hands to the hem of her T-shirt, Dylan roughly pulled it over her head before tossing it onto the island. The sight of it landing in front of Greta made her desire to turn around and look at Dylan burn ferociously as she pressed her fingertips into the surface she was holding onto. She imagined what Dylan would look like behind her. Her toned and tattooed skin, ready and waiting to be touched and tasted. Instead of turning, Greta pushed herself backward. The electrifying contact of naked flesh on naked flesh pulled low moans from both their throats. Dylan pressed her mouth to Greta’s ear, the urgency of the movement demanding she break the final wall between them.

‘Look at me, Greta. Please.’ Greta dropped her head as Dylan pulled her flush, erasing every remaining millimetre of space between them. The curved palm at her throat was gentle, fingers tracing the line of her jaw, coaxing her head back. ‘I won’t kiss you, not if you don’t want that,’ Dylan whispered earnestly. ‘I would never do anything to hurt you.’

The tenderness of the promise rang in Greta’s ears while she screamed at herself to turn.

Look at her.

Just fucking look at her.