Page 53 of Obedience

‘We can do this…’ Dylan reassured softly.

‘Dylan.’ Greta lingered on the final syllable.

‘No!’ The word hit the air with more assertion and volume than Dylan seemed to intend. She caught herself instantly, as if surprised by her own outburst, huffed out some air and lowered her voice. ‘No. I don’t want to hear about our ages, or how we’re from different sides of the fucking tracks, or whatever other bollocks you’re conjuring in your unbelievably beautiful head.’ She grinned, her fingers tousling the ends of Greta’s hair. ‘No. I refuse to allow my life—our lives, be a bad fucking cliché. Which is, in itself, a total cliché, I know.’ She rolled her eyes at her own intensity. Dropping her hand to Greta’s thigh, she watched as Greta interlaced their fingers. ‘I like you. Fuck, Greta, I really like you. Please.’ She moved closer, the smell of her body becoming too hard to ignore. With a tenderness that made Greta’s breath hitch, she reached out and tucked Greta’s hair behind her ear, her fingertips tracing the line of her jaw. ‘Please don’t go. Stay with me. Just tonight.’

Greta’s internal voice screamed at her to go, to run, to face the fact that the impossibility of it all was too much. But as she looked into Dylan’s wide green eyes, the noise of her warring heart and head fell silent, giving her the permission she’d been waiting for. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll stay. I want to stay.’

The relief washed over Dylan visibly, her shoulders relaxing. She let out a long breath, but the moment was short-lived, as the sharp sound of another cough crackled through the monitor. Dylan’s head dropped, a heavy sigh escaping her as the weight of her reality rushed over her. ‘Fuck!’ she snapped. The word was sharp, forced through gritted teeth. Her expression immediately softened into a guilty wince. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Greta whispered, reaching out to pull Dylan back for a soft kiss.

Keeping her face close to Greta’s, Dylan held her gaze, her expression suddenly serious. ‘Can you promise me something, G?’

Greta sucked in a breath, a confused look on her face. ‘I can try.’

‘Please don’t climb out of the window while I’m gone.’ Dylan smiled. ‘My neighbours are nosey fuckers, and Mick over the road has angina. He wouldn’t survive seeing my T-shirt skimming your glorious arse as you shimmied down a drainpipe. There’s not enough GTN spray in the world for that. So, unless you want to be doing CPR in the street with me while we wait four hours for a paramedic crew, stay here, yeah?’ Greta’s laugh burst from her. ‘They also have Ring doorbells, and I don’t want you going viral dressed like this…you’ll break the internet.’ Greta laughed into Dylan’s smile, squeezing her chin affectionately with one hand before kissing her again. Dylan climbed off the bed. ‘In fact...’ She bent down to the floor before popping back up with Greta’s shoes hanging off two fingers. ‘Ima taking these with me,’ she said in a singsong voice in a much higher pitch than her usual. She sashayed out of the room, shrugging with them theatrically tossed over her shoulder, leaving Greta belly laughing at her ridiculousness. The sound of laughter lingered in Greta's ears as she heard Dylan hurriedly heading back downstairs, followed by the hollow thud of her shoes being thrown onto the hallway floor.

***

Greta waited for Dylan with growing anticipation, excitement and anxiety, in equal measure, clawing at her chest. The impulse was to go with it. Her thoughts told her that this was fine. That this being the first night spent with a woman other than her wife was okay. That it was time. Age, history, the differences between them and the feelings Greta was struggling to understand, could be pushed aside for one night. Though any one of them, let alone in combination, was enough to make Greta run.

‘You’re still here?’ Dylan said softly, her head popping around the door while holding out a new boxed toothbrush. ‘No excuses now.’ Dylan smiled, but uncertainty still tugged at the corners of Greta’s mouth. Dylan sighed. ‘Unless of course you really don’t want to stay, Greta. I mean, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.’

‘I want to, Dylan. There’s not a person on this Earth that could make me do something I don’t want to do,’ Greta asserted with a confident head tilt.

‘Mmmm,’ Dylan hummed, arching a playful eyebrow. ‘That’s fucking hot.’

‘I do think we should talk though. Can we? Tomorrow perhaps?’

‘Of course we can,’ Dylan agreed, tossing the toothbrush onto the bed. ‘But that’s tomorrow.’ Greta’s eyes widened as she watched Dylan pull off her vest, then her shorts. An excellent diversion technique, Greta thought. A gulp lodged in her throat, a warm blush flushing her cheeks as Dylan, now wearing only tight white boxers, pressed a knee into the bed and began crawling toward the pillows. ‘A lot could happen between now and then that could really transform those future conversations, you know?’ Dylan stopped on her knees part-way up the mattress, wrapping a strong hand around each of Greta’s ankles.

‘Ohhhh?’ Greta giggled as Dylan slowly dragged her down the bed.

‘Mmhmm,’ Dylan hummed. Greta raised her hips as Dylan hooked her fingers into the sides of her knickers, allowing her to slowly pull them off. ‘I mean, if you think about it’—she leaned forward to kiss the inside of Greta’s thigh—‘tomorrow morning is hours away.’ She kissed Greta’s neat strip of pubic hair making Greta groan low in her throat. ‘My orgasm score could be twelve out of ten by then.’ Dylan kissed her clit, making Greta’s head fall to the side, her hips pushing forward as Dylan hooked an arm under her thigh to push her open. ‘Maybe even a solid twenty.’ She dragged her flat tongue over the full length of Greta, her movement firm and hungry, while moving her hand up Greta’s T-shirt, rolling it up over her soft stomach toward her breasts. Greta blew out a long, slow, quiet breath, her hand over Dylan’s on her breast to encourage more pressure. Her fingers digging in, wordlessly telling Dylan to squeeze harder. ‘I can’t get enough of you,’ Dylan whispered, before she started to lap softly at the new surge of Greta’s arousal. ‘The way you taste. The way you smell. All of you. I need all of you. I fucking crave you even when you’re with me.’

As Dylan punctuated her words with soft licks and gentle sucks, Greta just watched. She looked down, her breath catching as Dylan met her gaze and smiled before coaxing an orgasm from Greta that was so powerful she had to bite her own palm to stop from screaming out.

Chapter sixteen

It’s a shrine, darling

When Greta woke the following morning, Dylan wasn’t in bed. She had been up many times in the night tending to her mum, waking Greta in the process, leaving her craving more sleep the second her eyes opened. The disturbance hadn’t been through a lack of Dylan trying, Greta had watched her pulled from her light sleep and felt her restless movements. She had been so considerate, making sure her mum was completely settled before coming back to bed and pulling Greta in. Only to be disturbed again moments later, sighing quietly as she got out of bed for the umpteenth time. This wasn’t exactly how Greta had envisioned her first night with a woman in five years. Her first night with someone who wasn’t Muriel. Voices drifted from downstairs, followed by the fast rhythm of footsteps as Dylan came bounding back up as if there were a fire.

‘Is everything okay?’ Greta asked as Dylan moved into the room.

Dylan’s eyes illuminated at the sight of her, a full smile claiming her entire face. She had a pot of coffee in one hand, two cups hanging from the fingers of the other—which Greta found remarkable given the speed at which she’d cleared the staircase. Her curls looked more dishevelled than usual, and small dark crescents sat under her green eyes. Greta’s breath caught at just how violently beautiful she still looked.

‘Everything’s fine. I’m just a noisy stair-doer.’ Dylan smiled, putting the coffee on the bedside table, her gaze raking over Greta with a look of very open appreciation.

‘Have you slept? You look tired,’ Greta said, her eyebrows furrowed.

‘Rough night with Margs, to be honest. Did I disturb you much?’ Dylan winced, looking full of dread at the potential answer. ‘I tried not to. It’s not always like this.’

‘I slept well actually,’ Greta lied. ‘Is your mum okay?’

‘Coffee?’ Dylan offered breezily, clearly doing her best to avoid a conversation about her mum and where that might lead. ‘I can run back down for milk.’

‘Lovely, thanks. No, black is fine. Dylan, is your mum okay?’