Page 115 of Obedience

‘Oh, my fucking God,’ Dylan rasped, reaching down to cradle Greta’s jaw.

Greta moaned against her, swallowing her already abundant wetness, watching as Dylan’s insistent hips softly chased her mouth as she pulled away.

‘I still make you this wet?’ Greta marvelled in a whisper.

‘You’ll always make me this wet.’ Dylan inhaled deeply. ‘Make me drip on your nice new bra.’

With a hand splayed over Dylan’s belly, Greta looked up into her wife’s heavy-lidded eyes. Holding her gaze, she teased wet circles around Dylan’s engorged clit with the tip of her tongue before drawing her into her mouth and sucking softly again, her flat tongue moving firmly back and forth. Dylan’s hips undulated in time with her rhythm, her fingers tangling in Greta’s hair, wordlessly begging for her orgasm. Greta’s open hands slid to grip the curve of Dylan’s arse, fingers digging in, holding her firmly as her thrusts grew more demanding and urgent, as she drove Dylan to a frenzy.

‘Greta, fuck!’ Dylan growled as she started to shake. ‘Oh God…make me come, Jesus! Make me—Fucking hell!’ Her bitten-off words tapered into choked moans as she looked down at Greta moaning and breathing into her. Greta’s expressive eyebrows and deep brown gaze dragged Dylan over the edge, the back of her head hitting the door with a loud thud, as she yelled out, ‘Fuck! I’m coming.’

While gently holding the back of Greta’s head, Dylan came hard, grinding into her open mouth and against her tongue. She rode out her orgasm with her eyes screwed shut and her head pressed hard into the door, her entire body tensing and pulsing around the release. As her senses slowly returned, Dylan looked down to Greta looking back up at her, head resting against Dylan’s thigh, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with every fast breath.

‘Come here,’ Dylan rasped.

As Greta rose from her knees, Dylan pulled her into a wide, open kiss that was desperate and deep. She held Greta’s face, licking herself off her mouth and chin. Needing Greta’s body against hers, Dylan slid a hand under Greta’s thigh and lifted her. Smile pressed against smile, Greta locked her legs around Dylan’s hips, her arms tight around her shoulders.

Pulling back, Greta searched Dylan’s eyes. ‘I’m so proud of you, Dylan,’ she said softly, pressing a kiss to her plump bottom lip.

Dylan leaned back to properly see Greta’s face. ‘Don’t make me cry, G, you’ll make it weird.’

Greta mimed zipping her lips with her fingers and thumb before tossing the imaginary key over her shoulder. ‘I won’t say another word,’ she joked.

‘Anyway, you won’t need words where you’re about to go. Just my name…and maybe God’s.’

They both laughed as Dylan carried her wife to the bed.

In the hours they shared in the hotel room, they reclaimed a space and intimate connection they hadn’t found for a while. Their sex life was still amazing, but often, as they were swept along by life, carving out time for themselves had often felt impossible. Dylan suspected that was exactly why Greta had booked the room. She knew that if they headed home after the conference, the inevitable pull of their home offices might have been too strong to resist.

***

Greta stirred in the quiet warmth of the hotel bed, held close in the curve of Dylan’s body. Dylan’s thighs were tucked neatly behind her own, an arm threaded comfortably under her neck. The soft press of kisses trailing across her shoulders, paired with the steady heat of Dylan’s breath against her bare back, was the perfect wake-up call.

‘Morning, wife,’ Dylan whispered into Greta’s skin.

Greta stretched and yawned, ‘Good morning, wife.’

Dylan squeezed Greta, placing another delicate kiss on her shoulder. ‘Thanks for booking this, G. It was long overdue… I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you.’

‘Hey,’ Greta said softly, reaching a reassuring hand back to Dylan’s hip. ‘You haven’t neglected me.’ She pressed a kiss onto Dylan’s arm, landing just below the newly healed tattoo: MStJ in a beautiful cursive font with two dates in Roman numerals. ‘She would be so proud of you, Dyl,’ Greta said, her voice tightening as raw emotion threatened to break it.

Dylan pressed her face against Greta’s back, her muffled whimpers and sniffles instantly breaking Greta’s composure. Rolling onto her back, Greta pulled Dylan tightly against her chest.

‘I wish she could have seen me do it, G,’ Dylan sobbed through her tears. ‘I know it’s stupid, but I just wish to God, whoever the fuck that is, that I could just talk to her, just one more time, just to tell her I did it.’ She sniffed hard. ‘I love that she saw us get married but if she could have known her girl would one day get her P h fucking D…she might have fought harder.’

‘Dyl,’ Greta whispered, lips pressed to Dylan’s forehead. ‘Your mum watched you do three years of your PhD. There’s not a chance she’d have thought for one second that you’d have failed. She knew. She knows.’ Greta squeezed Dylan as her sobs gained volume. ‘Oh Dyl, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry. I love you so much.’

Dylan sniffed through her now blocked nose. ‘I love you, G.’

‘Did you write your letter?’ Greta asked softly.

‘Yeah, yesterday.’

‘In that case, shall we take Margaret some flowers on our way home?’

‘I’d like that,’ Dylan nuzzled into Greta’s neck. ‘Can we have brunch with Lainey and Eddie when we pick Ethel up?’

‘I’m sure they’d love that,’ Greta replied, moving Dylan’s curls aside, her lips finding her skin. ‘Oh God, I hope Mum hasn’t been feeding Ethel cake again. Manchester Dog’s Home would take her back off us if they knew what they bloody feed her.’