Page 73 of Obedience

‘What?’ Greta dipped her head to find Dylan’s gaze.

‘I just...’

‘Tell me,’ Greta urged softly.

‘I just really wish we’d finished that food last night,’ Dylan said with a quirk to her lip. ‘Those noodles will be ruined now.’

‘Jesus!’ Greta laughed, playfully slapping Dylan’s chest.

As Greta moved to pull away Dylan tightened her hold, locking her arms around her waist. Greta’s palms flattened against Dylan’s shoulders, sliding up the sides of her neck.

‘Seriously though, G. Please promise me you won’t panic.’

‘Dylan, I—’

‘Promise me, Greta.’

‘I promise. I won’t panic.’

‘If you have regrets or doubts, just call me. Text me, telepathy me, send up a flare, use my Semaphore flags.’ Greta smiled, her gaze fixed on Dylan’s imploring expression. ‘Anything! Just don’t panic.’

Holding the back of Dylan’s head, Greta leaned in. ‘I won’t panic,’ she promised, kissing Dylan softly on the mouth. ‘I won’t panic,’ she whispered again, her lips lightly tracing over the sharp edge of Dylan’s jaw. A flat hand pushed into Dylan’s hair, fingers curling into a fist as Greta tugged her head back. Her lips hovered over Dylan’s ear, twisting the tip of her tongue over her lobe before placing a kiss on the soft shell. She pressed herself firmly between Dylan’s thighs. ‘I won’t’—she gently bit her earlobe—‘panic.’ A deep moan rumbled in Dylan’s throat, as her eyes softly closed. ‘And’—Greta licked the lobe, soothing the bite—‘if you’re here when I get home, you can reward me for not panicking by fucking me so hard I have to beg you to stop.’

‘Fuck,’ Dylan breathed as her head dropped forward, only to be gently pulled back by Greta’s fist full of hair.

‘And,’ Greta continued, her tone low and teasing. ‘If you start your fucking dissertation, I will fuck you until you beg me to stop.’

‘Greta Vincent, it’s not even eight o’clock, and you're—’

‘I’m what?’ she whispered, trailing kisses down the side of Dylan’s neck.

Dylan raised her chin, offering her throat to Greta. ‘You’re—’

‘Yeees?’ Greta stretched the word as it came from somewhere deep in her throat.

Dylan’s breath hitched. ‘You’re fucking cruel, actually, because now I have to get on the tram in wet underwear.’ She shifted awkwardly against the already damp fabric.

Greta pulled back just enough to catch her eye. ‘You’re wet? Already?’ she whispered.

Her hands slid to the waist of Dylan’s jeans, roughly tugging at the top button, then pulling down the zip. In the quiet kitchen, the sharp rasp of the sliding metal sounded deafening, making Dylan’s eyes widen.

‘Yeah,’ Dylan replied, chest already heaving. ‘You make me—’

‘Lift up your arse,’ Greta demanded softly while tugging at the denim.

Keeping her gaze anchored to Greta's, Dylan pressed her hands into the sides of the stool to raise her hips. Greta eased the denim and cotton down, freeing her just enough, before Dylan slowly lowered herself back to perch on the edge. Her mouth slid open with a gasp as Greta’s flat fingers pushed through her already pooling arousal.

‘Fucking hell,’ Greta breathed.

‘Mmhmm,’ Dylan hummed.

Dylan watched Greta’s glistening fingers move in wet circles over and around her still aching, still swollen clit. Her own hands gripped onto the edge of the stool, knuckles blanching white, as Greta dipped her shoulder slightly and slowly pushed two fingers inside her. Dylan’s eyes drifted shut as Greta found the exact spot Dylan needed, curling her fingers to pulse gently against the wall behind her clit as her thumb softly brushed over it. Somehow and without Dylan having to say a word, Greta instinctively knew that Dylan didn’t need it hard and frenzied. So she moved slowly and deeply, watching Dylan succumb completely as she dragged her over the edge into a hard crashing climax.

As Dylan’s body shuddered, Greta leaned in, feathering her lips over her ear, she whispered, ‘I won’t panic.’

***

Greta was so unprepared for the week ahead it made her incredibly uneasy. She usually spent the majority of the weekend, if not all of Sunday, working, much to her dismay but actual need. She had no regrets about the weekend spent with Dylan—far from it. An indelible smile remained on her face even beneath her tiredness and cranky mood. Waiting in line at Vanoffee inside the busy hospital atrium, she thumbed open a new text from her.