Page 114 of Obedience

Dylan:

‘You’re not trying to sex traffic me again, are you? Because I'll find my way home again, just like last time’

A line of alternating trucks, tacos and aubergine emojis ended the text.

Dylan:

‘…and the time before that. Dx’

Greta:

‘The only sex traffic I plan is your journey to room 118. Now go away please. I am very important. Gx’

Dylan pinched her lips with her fingers in a bid to stop the wide smile claiming her face entirely as she watched Greta turn to steal a furtive glance over her shoulder, her smirk sultry with one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in invitation. Dylan swiped her phone open again, her heart filling as she sent one more message.

Dylan:

‘I love you so fucking much Greta. Dx’

***

After perfunctory pleasantries and professional goodbyes with Jill and various delegates, Dylan was absolutely over speaking to anyone who wasn’t her wife. She was itching to get to the room, having lost track of Greta a little earlier in the crowd. Standing in the grand foyer of the hotel reception, Dylan pulled her phone from her pocket and noticed an unread message.

Greta:

‘118. Tick tock, Mrs St John-Vincent. Gx’

Dylan:

‘DOCTOR St John-Vincent will be with you soon. Dx’

Dylan arrived at the hotel room and stood looking at the door. Giddy and still riding the high of a flawless presentation, she lingered in the quiet of the hallway to let her racing heart and thoughts catch up. With her hand cupped over the door handle, she felt suddenly overwhelmed. Life had come at her and Greta so hard over the last few years, relentless and heavy. There were times it was difficult not to believe that the universe was conspiring against them, as ridiculous as the notion was. Greta’s determination to become the professor she once thought impossible—a dream she feared she’d traded to be with Dylan—had been a battle of attrition. But they had weathered it all. They had emerged stronger than ever; a powerhouse of love, respect and unequivocal devotion.

A vibration thrummed in Dylan’s pocket, snapping her from her thoughts.

Greta:

‘I haven’t ordered room service so I hope that’s you out there loitering with the filthiest of intentions! Get in here!’

Laughing to herself, Dylan turned the handle and pushed her way inside. Blinking quickly, she backed into the door to close it, inhaling deeply as Greta tossed her phone onto the bed and arched an eyebrow. Dylan’s eyes widened, her gaze devouring every inch of her wife’s magnificence. Between her perfectly styled waves, winged eyes and red lips, the sight of Greta was almost too much for Dylan to cope with. She watched, mouth slightly agape, as Greta swayed towards her in the dark green lace and satin of her new Agent Provocateur set; the lingerie hugging her curves in all the right places. Her manicured black nails pressed into her hips as she slowly narrowed the gap between them.

‘Jeeesus Christ,’ Dylan said in a low voice, as Greta’s saunter stopped just before reaching her. ‘You look—’

‘Don’t ruin this by speaking, Doctor,’ Greta interrupted with a knowing smile. Pressing a finger to Dylan’s lips she allowed a silent beat to pass before slowly dragging it down the soft curve of her lower lip, coaxing them apart for a brief moment.

Slowly licking her lips, Dylan tilted her head, her nostrils flaring as she took Greta in. ‘Well shut me the fuck up then, Professor,’ she replied, decimating the remaining space and crashing a searing kiss onto Greta’s mouth.

Greta’s fingers were a blur over Dylan’s body, swiftly undoing her jacket then sliding it off her shoulders, both smiling into their kiss as it hit the chair. Dylan’s own fingers flicked open the first few buttons of her shirt before she dragged it with her sports bra over her head. Greta’s hands immediately sought out Dylan’s chest, her touch felt hungry and urgent. Looking down Dylan watched Greta suck her bottom lip between her teeth as she made a show of undoing her belt, letting the leather and buckle fall apart before turning her attention to the button and zip of her trousers; her gaze unwavering, eyebrow arched.

Chest heaving Dylan gulped at the air that was thick with lust. Bitten back whimpers escaped her throat as Greta’s mouth found her breasts. Greta moved her tongue over her taut nipples, hands holding Dylan’s waist while gently guiding her backwards. With Dylan pressed against the door, Greta kissed her way down Dylan’s body, eventually kneeling in supplication before her wife. Her hands trailed over Dylan’s—now remarkable—abs before hooking her fingers into the waistband of her trousers and boxers, yanking them down over her hips and strong legs. Looking up under her lashes, Greta placed a deep kiss over Dylan’s short pubic hair, inhaling deeply as she did.

‘What are you—’

‘This is your reward, Doctor.’ She kissed her again but lower this time. ‘You’re going to come in my mouth, and once you have, you’re going to take me to bed and fuck me until I literally beg you to stop.’ Her lips curled into a slow seductive smile. ‘Do you understand?’

Unable to muster a single word, Dylan simply nodded quickly, her need to have all of Greta firing through every synapse in her body. More than anything in that moment, she craved the wet heat of Greta’s mouth against her. The brief anticipation alone was agonising, but after their years together, Dylan knew the exact, familiar rhythm that was coming—the way Greta instinctively knew how to use her tongue against her clit. How to read her, knowing when she was close, sucking harder and licking faster when she needed her to, or keeping it slow and gentle when she didn’t. She knew exactly what to do simply by listening to and watching her wife. It was the flawless precision of a woman who knew Dylan’s body better than she knew it herself, ready to coax an undoing orgasm from her.

Frantically heeling and toeing out of her boots and socks, Dylan stepped free of her trousers, kicking them aside to widen her stance, offering herself to Greta with a tilt of her pelvis. Resting back against the door, Dylan inhaled deeply at the sensation of her wife’s flat palms pushing up her thighs, moving slowly towards her hips—hands that had explored every inch of her skin, yet always felt new to her, though it had been a while since it felt quite this electric. Closing her eyes, Dylan let everything else fall away as she leaned into the feeling of Greta’s fingers holding her open, flat tongue licking her, and the closing of her full lips around her clit. The soft rhythmic suck that followed almost made Dylan’s knees give way completely.