12. Juice? #4
They kissed and held one another, the air thick with moans, heavy breaths, and electrifying anticipation.
Synapses fired wildly under Greta’s skin as Dylan’s hands roamed her naked thighs, thumbs brushing the soft fabric of her underwear.
Although it was the last thing she wanted, Greta pulled back.
The need to see Dylan’s face, to see her eyes, was too strong to ignore.
With her fingertips lightly pressed into Dylan’s chin, Greta held her face still, leaning back to lazily drag her gaze over Dylan’s features, resting on her kiss-swollen lips.
Fighting to stay out of her own head, Greta let Dylan’s starved eyes devour her, to take in every part.
She watched how intently Dylan looked at her throat when she swallowed; her gaze lingering on the tiny beauty mark sitting on the border of her lip.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Dylan’s lips as she looked at the gorgeous disarray of Greta’s hair.
It was clear Dylan wanted it all. Every curve of supple flesh, every blemish, every scar.
Though Greta wasn’t sure if her emotional scars would be too much—she buried the thought.
‘You are fucking magnificent, Doctor Vincent,’ Dylan said softly around her smile.
With her head canted, Greta smiled and leaned in to kiss Dylan, before slowly dragging her plump bottom lip through her teeth.
‘Are you going to do anything with this magnificence, Miss St. John, or is your intention just to look at it? Your five minutes are well and truly up. Tick tock.’
A wide smile reached Dylan’s eyes as Greta leaned back and playfully tapped her bare wrist. Pressing back into her, Dylan kissed her with a hunger so fierce it felt as though she had been put on this Earth solely to do just that.
One hand gripped tight around Greta’s waist while the other slid between her thighs, the flat of Dylan's palm moving up her soft skin until fingertips skimmed the damp fabric of her knickers. The evidence of Greta’s arousal soaking the cotton elicited a low moan from Dylan, lost inside Greta's mouth, while the contact induced an even louder one from Greta.
‘Fuuuck,’ Greta slowly breathed, her brows knitting together as she reflexively pushed into the contact of Dylan’s fingers.
Slowly, Dylan pulled the fabric to the side, running her fingers over Greta. ‘You’re always so wet for me.’ She pulled back her gaze to fully see Greta’s face. ‘You are so fucking hot.’
A warm blush suffused Greta’s cheeks. She wasn’t used to praise from Dylan, or anyone for that matter.
In hiring someone submissive she had protected herself from hearing words that could make her come undone but now she was revelling in unbidden words and the heat of Dylan’s mouth and hands.
Thrusting gently against Dylan’s fingers, Greta silently urged Dylan to fill her.
Snaking her hand fully into Greta's knickers, Dylan pinned the fabric aside to coat two fingers in her abundant wetness before slowly pushing inside.
Greta’s mouth slid open, a quietly breathed, ‘Oh my fucking God,’ landing against Dylan’s face as she began to fuck her.
It was agonisingly slow at first, drawing out heavy moans as Greta's eager hips pushed forward, begging for more. Adding a third finger, Dylan tightened her grip, pulling her as close as possible with an arm locked around her waist. Greta thrust herself onto Dylan’s hand with increasing fervour, holding tightly onto her strong arms and shoulders to steady herself.
Raw approval spilled from her throat and chest, completely lost under Dylan’s touch and the force of the unrelenting fingers plunging in and out of her.
‘Fuck me, Dylan. Please,’ Greta softly moaned into the soft shell of Dylan’s ear.
A flash of concern hit her, a fear that she had reverted to Margot.
Terrified she had derailed the moment, Greta pulled back slightly, but Dylan must have heard the words as a plea rather than a demand and crashed a searing kiss onto her lips.
As she dragged Greta’s bottom lip through her teeth, her fingers slowly withdrew and her hold loosened.
‘Lean back,’ Dylan demanded softly, her voice a ragged whisper, her tattooed chest rising and falling with each breath. ‘I need to taste you.’
Greta did exactly as she asked, fingers splayed behind her and palms pressed into the cool surface of the island.
She lifted her hips as Dylan hooked her fingers into the sides of her knickers and slowly pulled them off, dragging them down over her thighs and smooth legs.
A small smile pulled at Greta's lips as Dylan theatrically tossed them over her shoulder.
Moistening her own lips with her tongue, Dylan raised an eyebrow while raking her gaze over Greta—naked, legs parted, glistening, and completely ready for her.
Moving her mouth to Greta's thighs, Dylan trailed open-mouthed kisses up the insides of both, as though her mission was now to kiss every inch of her body. Reaching the heat in between Greta’s legs, she paused to admire the perfect strip of hair before kissing it softly.
Greta watched, moaning breathlessly, as Dylan looked up through her lashes, holding her gaze while pressing kisses over her warm, soaked labia and desperately swollen clit.
The contact of Dylan’s mouth felt different than the penultimate time they’d met as Remi and Margot.
Dylan was different to her now. These were undeniable feelings, reshaping everything and casting Dylan in a whole new light.
The need for more was quickly becoming overwhelming as Greta reached out, her hand sinking into Dylan’s soft brown hair.
She watched as her fingers moved tenderly, lazily pulling the curls through her fingertips, savouring the texture.
Her other hand remained braced behind her, palm flat against the kitchen island as Dylan lapped with lingering licks, swallowing Greta’s wetness, her mouth moving eagerly with a thirst for more.
‘You taste fucking amazing,’ Dylan whispered, looking up in awe before quickly reconnecting.
As Dylan grew hungrier, Greta’s fist reflexively tightened in her curls as she began thrusting against Dylan’s mouth, urging her to move faster and harder.
Dylan’s breaths and moans forced against her soft flesh, in hot bursts responding to every groan and hitch in Greta’s rhythm.
Dylan fucked Greta with her tongue before moving to her clit, twisting the tip over and around it, lashing back and forth, driving Greta towards a frenzy.
Greta pushed and pulled at Dylan’s hair.
‘Please, Dylan…’ she begged, almost unable to cope with the ecstasy coursing through her body, leaving her feeling as though she was losing her mind and senses all at once as she hurtled toward the edge.
Looking up, Dylan held her gaze as she drew her swollen clit into her mouth and started to slowly suck, the flat of her tongue running rhythmically back and forth.
‘There! Fuck!’ Greta cried out. She wasn’t even sure which part of Dylan’s mouth was doing what anymore.
Lips? Tongue? It was all a white-hot blur as she gripped her soft brown curls, pulling Dylan even closer and forcing herself forward.
‘Oh my God, Dylan— Fuck! Please don’t stop. Please…’
Heavy breaths and deep groans vibrated against her.
Unable to hold back the breaking wave of her orgasm, Dylan’s name tore from Greta’s throat over and over, a repetitive, desperate plea for her not to stop.
Her voice fractured as the last pleasure-drenched words of ‘I’m coming’ stretched into a raw, guttural moan.
Her entire body stiffened, then trembled, as she came in Dylan’s mouth.
Standing quickly, Dylan wiped her mouth and throat with her whole hand; she dragged Greta to her by her waist, almost lifting her clear from the island, plunging three fingers inside her.
‘Fucking hell!’ Greta yelled out in pleasure.
Shocked by the strength of the unbidden move, Greta braced against Dylan, fingers pressed into her firm shoulders, steadying herself as another climax built almost instantly.
‘I won’t let you fall,’ Dylan whispered.
Greta’s fingers bruised into Dylan’s flesh as she fucked her through her second orgasm. The orgasm thundering through every single synapse in her body, leaving her mouth as bitten off sobs and loud shouts of Dylan’s name.
As the remnant aftershocks left Greta in ripples and involuntary jolts, she ran her hands over the back of Dylan’s neck, pulling her into a kiss. Holding Dylan’s face, Greta urged her head back, dipping to drag a broad tongue over Dylan’s throat, mouth and chin; licking herself off Dylan’s skin.
‘I taste good on you,’ Greta whispered, catching Dylan’s gaze.
‘You fucking look good on me too,’ Dylan growled.
A heartbeat later, Greta was lifted into the air and pressed back into Dylan’s body, her strong hands splayed across her arse.
With Greta’s legs wrapped around her waist and arms around her neck, Dylan carried her into the hallway. ‘Which one is your bedroom?’