Page 109 of Obedience

‘Close your eyes. Imagine your fingers are mine.’

‘Ohhh, God.’

‘Imagine my hand over your throat…my other hand inside your knickers,’ Dylan encouraged softly. The deep hum of Greta’s moans started to fill the tiny cupboard. ‘Quietly, G. Don’t make any noise.’

‘Fucking hell, Dyl, I can’t—’

‘Slide two fingers just inside yourself. The way I do.’

Dylan’s eyes stayed locked on the small screen as Greta reached for herself, imagining the tips of her fingers inside her, the heat of her slick arousal warming her skin. Dylan couldn’t see everything she wanted to, but the sight of Greta—skirt pulled up, heels on, fucking herself—was all she needed.

‘Mmhmm,’ Greta hummed, the upturn of the sound a request for more instruction.

‘Push your fingers over the spot you beg me to touch when you’re close.’

‘Oh my—fuck!’ Greta gasped. Dylan watched as Greta tried hard to keep her eyes on the screen, her gaze faltering as her arm moved faster. ‘I want to suck your clit, Dylan.’ Dylan moaned deeply at the image. She pushed her fingers over the epicentre of her clit, cresting her climax immediately. Her eyes flickered shut as Greta rasped, ‘Come in my mouth.’

Dylan’s body shook and stiffened as the orgasm tore through her. On the screen, Greta gasped, as if pushed over the edge by the quiet sounds of Dylan coming. With Dylan watching, and imagining her fingers moving to the spot she always found without question, Greta softly repeated, ‘I’m coming’ and Dylan’s name as she rode out her orgasm as quietly as she could.

In a hotel cleaner’s cupboard.

In San Diego.

5377 miles away.

‘Fuck, I love you,’ Greta said quietly, breaking through the sound of their heavy breathing.

***

The crackle of tannoy announcements filled the air as Dylan’s thigh bounced restlessly, earning her an annoyed glance from the man sitting next to her. Huffing out a frustrated breath, she glanced at the digital clock on the flight information board, and then checked her watch. The need to close the agonising distance between her and Greta had become so overwhelming she had arrived at the airport far too early and had already been sitting in arrivals for an hour. Leaning forward, she pushed her sweaty palms over her thighs, letting the denim of her Levi’s absorb the moisture. Her fingers picked at the label of her water bottle, unable to tell if she was excited, nervous, or both. A week without Greta had been too long, and she was more than ready to hold her again. The vibration of her phone in the pocket of her brown Carhartt jacket, sent a thrill through her diaphragm. She thumbed the notification, taking her straight to WhatsApp.

Greta:

‘Just landed. A group clapped. I’m dying of second hand embarrassment and the guy next to me has BO so strong it would bring a chateaubriand back to life. Get me home! Gx’

Dylan:

‘Eww. I’ll let the ground staff know so they can be arrested as they leave the plane and thrown in chav jail…and sprayed with deodorant. Hurry up. Dx’

Dylan:

‘In fact, forget about your luggage. We can get you new things. Dx’

Greta:

‘30 minutes max (hopefully). Gx’

Dylan:

‘I’ll be dead by then. RIP Dyl’

She added a headstone emoji and a ghost.

Greta:

‘Epitaph?’

Dylan: