13. 501s are a classic
Chapter thirteen
‘Not my room, Dylan. The spare. End of the hall,’ Greta gasped between frantic kisses.
‘What?! What’s wrong with your bedroom?’ Dylan asked as her mouth continued to roam over Greta’s throat.
Hanging off Dylan’s neck, Greta cocked her head and leaned back to scan her confused face. ‘Can I explain another time?’
‘Is there a sex slave in there?’ Dylan wiggled an eyebrow.
‘Are you going to take my very naked self to bed or continue with your abysmal bash at stand-up comedy?’
While peppering Greta with kisses, Dylan laughed against her skin. ‘I am abso-fucking-lutely going to take your very naked self to bed, Doctor Vincent.’
Crashing into the bedroom while still carrying Greta, Dylan kicked the door shut behind them and turned to press Greta softly into the wood.
Pulling away, Dylan canted her head to fully take her in.
As Greta chased her mouth Dylan kept it just out of reach, her eyes scanning every part of Greta’s face as if she couldn't get enough of the sight of her. Greta tousled a stray curl of Dylan’s, moving it to its rightful place before cradling her jaw.
‘What?’ Greta asked lightly, feeling a little over-examined by Dylan’s lingering gaze.
‘We’ve wasted time, Greta.’
‘I don’t know, you’ve made very good use of your five minutes,’ she replied wryly, attempting to ignore the weight behind Dylan’s words.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I can’t explain right now.’ Greta pecked Dylan on her plump bottom lip. ‘But I will.’ She kissed her again, holding her chin with one hand as she slowly dragged Dylan’s bottom lip between her teeth. ‘Now please, not a demand, a polite request, will you take me to bed?’
As they reached the bed, Greta slid down Dylan’s body as she gently lowered her to the ground, before sitting on the edge.
Greta climbed onto her, straddling her thighs and urging her back with her hands.
Reluctantly letting go, Dylan pressed her splayed hands into the mattress behind her, forcing her chest forward as Greta’s palms moved over her.
Expression soft, Greta feasted her eyes on Dylan’s breasts and stomach, allowing herself to see and touch every inch of skin.
Leaning in to kiss her, Greta moved her hands between them, unfastening Dylan’s jeans.
As if compelled to watch every movement, Dylan’s gaze stayed fixed on Greta's elegant fingers, letting out a breathy chuckle as they moved around the buttons, frustratedly pushing and pulling at the denim.
‘Would it kill you to buy jeans with a zip, Dylan?’ Greta said, grappling with the stubborn second button. ‘If you come to someone’s house with the intention to seduce them, your clothing should be— ’
‘501s are a classic, Doctor Vincent,’ Dylan laughed as Greta finally conquered the last one.
Leaning back on Dylan’s thighs a smile tugged at Greta’s lips as she surveyed her work and the top of her Calvins. A loud sigh from Dylan filled the air at the contact of Greta’s fingertips raking down her firm abs, coming to rest inside the waistband of her tight white boxers.
‘Take my jeans off,’ Dylan breathed, raising her hips.
Obliging, Greta slowly pulled at the denim, struggling as the material hitched on her muscular thighs.
Dylan laughed lightly, eyes locked on Greta as a short battle with her Levi’s ensued.
Resting her hips back down to the mattress, she watched as Greta finally got them over her ankles and tossed them to the side.
Kneeling between Dylan’s legs, her knees pressed into the carpet, Greta ran her hand up Dylan’s thigh, tracing her thumb over the date tattoo. She looked at Dylan.
‘Can I explain another time?’ Dylan said softly.
As Greta leaned to gently kiss the date, a short soft whimper escaped Dylan’s throat.
With Greta's head so close to her thighs, Dylan stiffened, as if fleetingly caught off guard. She let out a long sigh, looking down with a heavy intensity that felt years in the making, as if she had been waiting through their entire ridiculous arrangement for this exact second. Then Dylan reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Greta’s face to tuck it behind her ear.
While slowly making her way up Dylan’s thighs, Greta placed a path of deep kisses, licking as she went.
The delicious salty tang of Dylan’s skin drove her wild with a feverish need to taste more of her.
All of her. Reaching Dylan’s boxers, she didn’t hesitate in kissing the cotton panel covering Dylan’s clit.
The fabric was damp and smelled divine. An intoxicating smell of Dylan that Greta had experienced only briefly before.
She leaned into it, her hands hooked around Dylan’s hips pulling her closer, breathing in her earthy scent until there was no more space in her lungs for air.
‘Fucking hell,’ Dylan moaned, tilting her pelvis upwards as Greta pressed her face into her.
‘You smell fucking incredible,’ Greta whispered, placing another kiss on Dylan’s clit.
With her hand buried deep in Greta’s hair, Dylan’s head fell back as she dissolved into the contact of her mouth. Pulling back, Greta waited a beat as the anticipation of seeing Dylan fully naked pounded in her throat.
‘Do you want to take them off? You don’t have to,’ Dylan whispered.
Rising fully to her knees, her hands already moving over Dylan’s boxers, Greta slanted her head to the side as she drew in a slow breath. ‘In the interest of you not sitting in, what I assume, is now very wet underwear, Miss St John, we probably should. No?’
Greta heard her own playful tone and she had felt the shift in her demeanour when their lips had pressed together.
This was who she’d become in a matter of minutes, by relenting, by finally allowing herself a life-changing breath.
Now worlds apart from Margot and on the brink of real happiness, she looked at Dylan, whose soft gaze met hers.
Her chest swelled with the sheer possibility of what they could have. If only she could allow herself more.
With her hands now on the elasticated waistband of Dylan’s boxers, she began gently urging them down.
Gaze locked on Greta’s, Dylan lifted her hips; a wide smile spread over her face when Greta pulled them free and tossed them across the bed.
Eyes wide, Greta hesitated as she took in Dylan, who had settled her hips back onto the bed with her legs parted—offering herself.
Greta slid her hands up, her thumbs dragging over the firm skin of her thighs.
As the muscles tensed beneath her palms, Greta looked up to find Dylan watching her intently.
‘Dylan, you are just incred—’
‘I’ve been trying to get you out of my mind in the gym,’ Dylan interrupted, a flush creeping over her cheeks as she nodded down toward her muscular thighs, which Greta had to admit were looking even more impressive than usual. ‘They’ll go back to normal soon, now that I don’t have to.’
Greta said nothing. She heard the words and let them be.
She left them hanging in the space between them, reshaping everything.
She was eager to absorb each one, to allow them in and let them fill her.
She so desperately didn’t want to push back against them, or tell Dylan she was wrong, ill-informed, or presumptive. She just let them be.
As Dylan moved up the bed, Greta followed.
In between Dylan’s parted thighs she leaned forward, pressing the weight of her hips into Dylan’s.
A moan tore from her throat as the contact hammered through her aching clit, making the walls of her vagina desperately throb and clench.
Greta urged herself closer as Dylan arched up to meet her.
‘Kiss me,’ Dylan demanded softly as Greta slowly ground into her.
Greta leaned down to meet Dylan’s lips, kissing her tenderly while Dylan’s hands rose to cup her face.
She swallowed Dylan’s moans as they spilled into her mouth, the sound sending a thrill of pure possessiveness straight to her core.
She pushed hard and slow, the combined slickness of their arousal making every movement electrifyingly smooth as Greta lost herself in the heat and weight of their connection.
Dizzy with the scent and taste of her, Greta broke the kiss and shifted lower, tracing a hungry, lingering path down Dylan’s chest and belly.
‘No,’ Dylan breathed. She gently urged Greta to straddle her pelvis. ‘I want you like this. I want you to come inside me.’
Pulling one leg over Dylan, Greta turned slightly to deepen their contact.
Pressing her chest against Dylan’s thigh, Greta began to slowly roll her hips, watching in awe as Dylan’s mouth slid open as she forced her head into the pillow.
Dylan’s strong hands moved instinctively to Greta’s waist, pulling her down, anchoring her.
The feeling of her own soaked labia sliding fully over Dylan’s clit—a sensation she had never before experienced—sent a powerful shockwave straight through Greta, forcing her head to fall back.
She could feel the rigid tension in Dylan’s body and hear the ragged gasps heaving from her chest, as if Dylan was already teetering on the precipice.
For a few moments Dylan stayed perfectly still beneath her, she didn’t rock back, she simply watched Greta with heavy lidded eyes.
Greta felt the weight of Dylan’s gaze raking over every curve of her body—tracing the undulation of her hips, to the movement of her breasts, while the sounds of their combined wetness and heavy breaths filled the air.
Although Greta’s moans sounded entirely different to the ones she used to make as Margot, it was clear her climax was close to consuming her.
In that moment, the sounds were coming from her core.
They weren’t stifled and held behind a wall of control, they were coming from a brand new place she hadn't known existed.
She didn't just want a hard and fast orgasm after an hour of bossing Remi around; she wanted to make love to Dylan.