3. Gotham #3
Swaying in place, Remi reached out to steady herself on Margot’s shoulder.
Before making contact, she balled her hand into a white-knuckled fist that bounced in the air before she pulled it back to her side.
Margot allowed it. Holding onto Remi’s pelvis, she rose from her knees.
With their eyes level, Margot dragged her gaze over Remi’s face.
‘Look at me, Remi.’ Remi obeyed, her focus fixed on the glistening red of Margot’s slightly parted lips. With a slow, steady hand, Margot wiped the remnants of Remi’s arousal from her bottom lip with her thumb, before dragging it over Remi’s mouth. ‘You taste so fucking good.’
Remi licked her lips and slammed her eyes shut, sucking in a breath so sharp Margot could hear it. The last of Remi’s composure appeared to be fraying, she quietly cleared her throat. ‘If you keep—’
‘If you finish that sentence, you will go home. Do you want to go home, Remi?’
Margot’s hand remained on the dildo, back and forth. Pushing into her.
‘No. I just… I can’t stand—fuck!’
‘Be quiet, Remi. You will use the safe word if you need to, and you will go home.’
As Remi’s arm trembled, Margot cast her gaze to her balled fist, watching as she increased the pressure of her blunt fingernails in her palm.
‘Yes.’
‘Yes?’ Margot urged sternly.
‘Yes, Miss Grenson.’
With her power on full display, Margot felt an imperious euphoria.
She was proving that she didn’t need Remi’s mouth.
She didn’t need her touch. But fuck, she wanted them both.
She watched Remi—still fully dressed and absolutely saturated with desire—carefully, savouring every moment of their proximity, which was entirely under her control.
Remi’s hands remained clenched into fists.
Pearls of sweat glistened over her olive complexion, and her breathing had lost any semblance of rhythm.
For the first time ever, Margot wondered whether she had finally found Remi’s limit and if the safe word was dancing on her tongue.
Despite Margot’s ostensibly ostentatious display of restraint, she knew Remi had to have seen the both seismic and undeniable shift.
Margot’s desire had been everywhere. In the heat of her breath, in the tremor of her hands, in the way her body pressed close behind her.
Remi must have noticed the rise and fall of the swell of her breast above the satin and lace of her bra, must have seen her breaths catching when she touched her.
She had to have felt the sudden collision of Margot's body against her back and heard the longing sigh. She had been there for all of it.
With her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip, Remi’s eyes remained trained on Margot’s hands as they moved to her waistcoat, her mouth sliding open as Margot wiped her wet hand down the front before beginning, unhurriedly, to undo the buttons.
Once open, she slid it down Remi’s arms and tossed it to the side.
Running her hands down the back of Remi’s neck, she pulled her in.
For a split second, Remi's lips parted as her eyes dropped to Margot’s mouth, but Margot didn’t move.
She didn’t succumb to the kiss she so desperately longed for.
It was another agonising display of control as Margot simply tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips.
Fixing her gaze on Remi’s she moved to unbutton her shirt.
Every button was undone with deliberately slow, measured finger movements.
Slowly pulling the shirt down over Remi’s firm shoulders, Margot’s expression was suddenly unguarded as her eyes grew wide in open appreciation of Remi’s bare breasts and the Sacred Heart tattoo on her chest in bright red, green, and gold.
Margot watched her hands move over Remi’s breasts as if of their own accord, palms brushing over her taut nipples before her fingers and thumb teased them with soft pressure.
With Margot’s hands no longer on the dildo, Remi's shoulders visibly loosened, her posture eased as Margot pulled the shirt from her completely, allowing it to fall to the floor.
There was a third rule: Remi was always to keep one item of clothing on, boxers not included. She could never, under any circumstance, press her bare body against Margot’s. Which meant, in this instance, her trousers would stay on; or so Margot had always insisted.
Sucking in a fast breath, Remi’s eyes followed Margot’s elegant fingers tracing slowly along the waistband of her trousers.
‘Take these off,’ Margot breathed, her eyes fixed on the rapid flutter of Remi’s blinking.
‘What?’
Another rule violation, although not a chargeable one.
Margot didn’t answer verbally; she merely canted her head and cocked a perfect brow.
Without questioning it further, or breaking eye contact, Remi pulled her trousers down over her muscular legs, stepping out of them as she blew out a long breath.
An involuntary burst of air left Margot’s open mouth as her gaze fell to Remi’s thighs.
Her eyes traced the black ink of the two hearts—a sob and a smile—tattooed over her quad, which stretched as Remi shifted under the weight of Margot’s intense gaze.
The cherub watching over the hearts was exquisite in its detail.
A thin linear tattoo that looked to be a date sliced the centre of Remi’s other thigh.
It occurred to Margot that she had never really looked at them with any interest before.
The meaning of the hearts and cherub, or the significance of the date, had been of no importance to her.
They were stunning, sure, but Margot had never considered them as more than merely a pleasing aesthetic.
Standing in her black boxers, the dildo glistening, Remi watched Margot blink.
It was then impossible to ignore, no matter how much Margot tried to bury it, that her attraction to Remi had become something far deeper than she could admit.
Remi’s gaze dropped briefly to Margot’s slightly parted lips before returning to her eyes.
The movement sent a pulse of heat through Margot’s core and in an uncharacteristic display of hesitancy, she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again without saying a word.
Exhaling a long, shaky sigh Remi waited as Margot watched her carefully, unable to move, frozen in the space.
The room suddenly felt oxygen-starved. Their chests were heaving in tandem, the muscles between their ribs straining with every shallow, desperate breath.
After a few moments, Margot’s demeanour shifted.
Steeling herself with a steadying breath, she set her jaw into a hard, familiar line and straightened her posture.
She swallowed once before demanding that Remi fuck her from behind over the chair, without either of them taking their underwear off.
Remi obliged, her sudden gasp as she pulled the satin of Margot’s knickers to the side sent a strange surge of satisfaction through Margot, though she knew she had crossed another one of her self-imposed lines.
She’d pushed the meeting too far again, and the shift in the air had been a heavy suffocating force around them.
She retreated instantly and reverted to type; no nearness of mouths, no hands lingering on Remi’s skin.
Doing as Margot ordered, Remi obeyed, fucking her hard and fast. With her fingers digging into the material of the chair, Margot kept her head down, desperate for the release so she could finally send Remi away.
There was no need for lube and the remote for the vibrator sat unused in Remi’s discarded trousers on the floor.
Margot came twice in a quiet, suppressed succession while Remi observed the long held rule and kept herself on the edge.
As Remi’s strong hands held her hips, Margot couldn’t stop her mind from reeling.
After two years of partial views of Remi’s incredible body, seeing the two halves at the same time had proved to be too much.
In those moments, she knew that her need for the familiar sex she shared with Remi was being overshadowed by her all consuming need to touch her and her frenzied desire to be touched.
As always, Remi left while Margot was still in the bathroom.
Hearing the door close she stood shaking, palms against the sink, staring at her reflection.
For the second time in two years, the rules were fractured.
As she stood there, alone again, she knew the truth was now irrefutable—Greta was coming undone.