Page 59 of Obedience

‘Come up,’ Greta said, while simultaneously pressing the door release.

She tugged at the knot at her front, running her hands over the soft cotton, pulling the belt through her fingers and palm. Dylan knocked, once. Already behind the door Greta waited a beat before opening it, inhaling as she did.

‘Please don’t talk,’ Dylan whispered breathlessly, as though she’d run up the stairs instead of waiting for the lift.

Throwing out a hand, Dylan pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment uninvited, before pulling her jacket off and letting it fall to the floor. Moving straight to Greta, her arms snaked around her waist, gathering her up and pulling her into a deep, searing kiss, making Greta whimper into her mouth. Greta held Dylan’s face as Dylan kicked back, unapologetically slamming the door shut with her foot. There was a brief space between them as Dylan pulled off her T-shirt; the scent of familiar fabric conditioner and Dylan’s intoxicating fragrance filled Greta’s nose, making her head light. Dylan possessively pulled her back in, as if unwilling to relinquish control or waste a single, infinitesimal moment of time.

Greta turned her head, trying to speak. ‘Dyl—’

‘Shut up,’ Dylan all but growled. She turned Greta’s head to kiss her again, harder, dragging her lip through her teeth to silence her.

Dylan’s tongue was hard and hot, seeking out Greta’s, wrapping around and pushing against it. In that moment it was as though she meant to consume Greta and overcome by her own want, Greta was powerless to stop it. Pulling her head back Greta tried one more time to speak but Dylan cut her off.

‘Please, G. Unless it’s to tell me to stop. Don’t,’ Dylan said quietly. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

Greta shook her head, whispering a breathless ‘no’, as Dylan dragged her blunt fingernails up the sides of her thighs, almost making Greta’s legs forget their role in keeping her standing.

Letting out a shaky exhale, Greta yielded, fully understanding that Dylan needed this moment and fuck, so did she. She kissed Dylan with a matched and increasing fervour. A cacophony of sounds filled the hallway, growing louder after the previous night of biting back moans and clenching teeth. The emptiness of the apartment finally allowed them to fully express their desire and lust.

Dylan’s hands moved to the belt of Greta’s dressing gown, her fingers struggling with the tight knot, before finally freeing it, pulling the robe over Greta’s shoulders and kicking it away as it hit the floor. Standing still for a brief moment, Dylan’s fast blinking eyes roved over Greta in her silk vest and knickers. She raked her suddenly watery gaze back up Greta’s body before crashing back into her with even more passion. Her open mouth dragged over Greta’s, tasting her tongue, her teeth, her lips. She pulled Greta to her by her face until they were touching, almost violently, but it wasn’t enough. They weren't close enough. It was everything they both wanted, but it wasn’t enough.

Dylan deftly unfastened her own jeans as Greta yanked them down, pulling on them roughly as they hitched on Dylan’s hips. Hurriedly, Dylan stamped free of the denim, her socks, and Converse, before pulling Greta back into her body, as if unwilling to allow even a millimetre of space between them for too long. A groan flew from Greta’s mouth as she was suddenly against the wall.

‘Oh, fuck!’ Greta breathed as Dylan slammed into her.

Grinding against Greta with a frantic urgency, Dylan thrust forward, almost lifting Greta with her thigh. Greta’s hands delved into Dylan’s hair, fists full of curls, fingertips scraping down the low fade and over her neck. Dylan thrust again, grinding her pelvis and thigh as hard as she could, pulling another loud, guttural moan from Greta’s throat. The sensation of Dylan’s hands sliding under the silk vest and over Greta’s skin sent a pounding throb to her core. Their shared, fervent desire spilled over as they pressed together, Greta’s knickers already drenched. It was almost too much.

Dylan pulled Greta’s vest off, catching her breasts in her hands, pulling them to meet her face, licking and biting her nipples, teasing them with the twisted tip of her tongue before flattening it against them.

‘Oh my God,’ Greta breathed, clawing at Dylan as though she were trying to escape. But she wasn't. She was there—alive and warm—with an eager heart beating ferociously inside her chest.

With another brutal grind, Dylan cast her gaze briefly to her arousal soaked thigh. ‘Fuck, Greta,’ she rasped. ‘You’re fucking killing me.’

‘Take me to bed,’ Greta breathlessly whispered.

Sliding her hands under Greta’s thighs, Dylan picked her up. With Greta’s legs wrapped around her hips, she began the walk to the spare room.

‘My room,’ Greta instructed between kisses.

My room. My room. The words echoed in the hallway and in Greta’s head.

‘What?’

‘My room. Not the spare.’

Dylan didn’t ask questions. She didn’t wait for any more words; those were enough.

Bursting through the bedroom door, Dylan lowered Greta onto the bed, then stood and yanked down her boxers. Greta scrambled up the mattress as Dylan crawled toward her on all fours.

‘Take off your knickers,’ Dylan growled, with barely enough air in her chest to finish the short sentence. Greta fumbled, making Dylan immediately impatient. She moved between Greta’s legs and ripped the seam on one side, pulling them halfway down her thigh. ‘Fucking cunt!’ Dylan fumed at the fabric as she grappled with the material that now resembled a garter. Unable to move fast enough, Dylan tore the other seam, too.

Greta watched as Dylan crashed into her, thrusting her pelvis forward with a deep, throaty moan, kissing and softly biting at her skin. Dylan’s hands roved frantically over Greta’s torso as something suddenly shifted inside her.

‘Dylan,’ Greta whispered, her chest heaving. She reached into Dylan’s hair to pull her back, but Dylan didn’t hear above the noise of her bites and kisses over Greta’s hip bones and the soft swell of her belly. ‘Dylan,’ she said with more gusto. ‘Dylan!’ she all but yelled, sitting up and pulling hard on Dylan’s jaw.

Dylan stopped immediately. ‘I don’t want to fucking talk, Greta,’ she said, emotion filling her voice. She scanned Greta’s face, her eyebrows knitted, eyes pleading. ‘I don’t want to…’ Dylan tried again, but the past forty-eight hours finally broke her. She buried her face in Greta’s stomach. ‘I don’t—I can’t… I don’t want to fucking talk.’

Her shoulders began to heave as sobs rapidly consumed her. The unspent tears Greta had watched quickly gather in her impossibly gorgeous eyes were now pouring from her, wetting Greta’s belly.