23. Kintsugi
Chapter twenty-three
Kintsugi
‘How’s your strap—sorry,’ Greta corrected with a playful wince. ‘Your spatchcock. How’s the chicken?’ Greta quirked an eyebrow, her red lips pursed around a smug smile as they elegantly pulled food from her fork.
As they sat agonisingly close, nestled in a banquette within the opulent surroundings of the hotel’s restaurant, The French, both women ate their food and tried in vain to think of anything other than what was happening between their legs, or the torturous fact that their room was upstairs, a mere lift ride away.
Dylan grimaced for effect and shifted in her seat. ‘Fuck me. I can’t think about anything other than what’s under your dress, G,’ she whispered, prodding her hasselback potatoes with a fork.
‘There’s nothing under my dress, Dylan,’ Greta said, her voice dropping lower.
Dylan blinked at Greta’s parted lips. ‘I know I wanted to take you on a date, but— ’
‘But?’ Greta’s smugness danced on her face. ‘Is your plan making you come undone, Miss St John?’ She raised both brows, smiling into her glass as she sipped her wine.
‘Is everything to your satisfaction?’ The waiter boomed, appearing from nowhere as if summoned from a lamp.
‘Hmm?’ Dylan snatched her gaze from Greta to look at him.
‘It’s delicious,’ Greta replied graciously, dabbing a corner of her mouth with a napkin before laying it back on her lap. ‘Dylan was just telling me how moist the spatchcock is. Isn’t that right, Dylan?’
Dylan’s eyes grew wide. ‘Yep,’ she replied. ‘Moist.’ Suddenly rendered monosyllabic as Greta’s bare foot pushed up the inside of her lower leg. Dylan smiled inanely while swallowing dryly.
‘I’ll let the chef know,’ the waiter said, smiling politely between them both.
‘Yes. Please do,’ Greta confirmed breezily.
Dylan offered him a perfunctory smile until he turned to walk away.
‘Hurry up,’ Dylan whispered.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Finish your fucking food, Greta. I can’t stand this.’
‘Huh?’ Greta playfully tongued an incisor. ‘What’s the hurry?’ She took another unbothered sip of wine, gaze fixed on Dylan’s over the rim of her glass, while pushing her foot further up Dylan’s thigh.
Dylan took a furtive glance around the dining room.
The hustle and bustle of the place created a noisy low hum as diners marvelled over their meals, clinked their glasses and engaged in conversation.
The front of house staff busied themselves refilling glasses from wine and Champagne bottles and serving food.
She blew out a shaky breath as Greta’s foot moved to the inside of her thigh, then higher, tracing the edge of the dildo.
‘You’re so hard,’ Greta whispered through the nonchalant smile she gave a passing waiter.
Dylan moved her hand beneath the table, grabbing Greta’s foot, making Greta gasp as Dylan forced it into her groin.
Leaning forward, Dylan lowered her voice to a whisper.
‘Every inch of this is for you, G. So, may I suggest you finish your fucking wine so I can take you back upstairs and make you come so hard you won’t remember your own fucking name. ’
‘Get the bill,’ Greta ordered, draining the last of her wine as Dylan’s arm flew into the air.
***
Greta’s back slammed against the hotel door they had just burst through.
The weight of Dylan’s body immediately pressed into her.
Their mouths frantically crashing together, tongues tangling, teeth biting at lips and skin.
The frustration of the evening spilling out through urgent hands and hot, hard kisses.
Dylan tore off her jacket, throwing it to the floor, as Greta ripped open Dylan’s shirt and yanked it down over her shoulders.
‘This is my best shirt,’ Dylan mumbled breathlessly.
‘I don’t give a fuck,’ Greta growled into their kiss.
Her manicured fingernails scraped down Dylan’s naked chest and firm belly before deftly unfastening the top button of her trousers and yanking down the zip.
Before Greta knew what was happening Dylan spun her around, fast hands pulling the dress up and over her hips. Reaching out, Greta braced against the door with both hands.
‘Leave your heels on,’ Dylan demanded breathlessly into Greta’s ear as she pushed her splayed fingers slowly over her arse, spreading her cheeks as Greta’s hips rolled back in her hands.
Greta looked over her shoulder, widening her stance as Dylan pushed a hand between her legs; while the other pulled the dildo free from her boxers.
There was a sudden heavy stillness in Dylan’s body the moment she made contact.
The frantic energy paused, replaced by a low hum vibrating in Dylan’s chest as she slowed her hand, as if savouring every inch of wet skin while pushing over Greta’s slick labia.
Her fingers dipped to gather Greta’s arousal to smear over the dildo, before hooking her wet hand under Greta’s thigh to hold it high.
Tilting her hips backwards Greta wordlessly begged for Dylan to fill her as Dylan held the dildo steady and slowly eased inside.
The deliciously agonising fullness drew a sharp whimper from Greta’s throat.
Dylan froze, her posture immediately tightening with concern. ‘Are you—’ she whispered.
‘Fuck me, Dylan, please.’ Ragged breaths landed hot against Greta’s skin, but Dylan held still for a heartbeat, pressed flush against her back.
The hesitation was excruciating as Greta reached over, her hand finding the back of Dylan’s head.
With her fingers threaded deep in Dylan’s curls, she let them rest there, trembling faintly.
The sudden tenderness of the gesture, and the closeness of their bodies, momentarily softened the frenzy between them as everything seemed to still.
A brief silence, loaded with the weight of the words Greta couldn’t say out loud.
Then, with the gentlest pressure, Greta drew Dylan closer.
Turning her head, Greta’s open mouth found Dylan’s as she fiercely whispered, ‘Fuck me.’
As if overwhelmed by the words, Dylan groaned low in her throat, and buried her face in Greta’s hair. Anchoring her at the waist with her free arm she thrust her hips hard, forcing the air from Greta’s lungs.
‘Jesus!’ Greta cried out, scrambling to brace against the door and relying on the stability of Dylan’s strong body.
‘I love fucking you,’ Dylan breathed, thrusting up again, her pelvis undulating with a hard, rhythmic pace as she plunged the dildo in and out of Greta, who was, after an evening of promising this moment, dripping for her.
Dylan briefly slowed as she moved Greta’s hair to one side, bringing her open mouth to Greta’s shoulder, biting the soft skin through her dress, before dragging her gasping, parted lips up her neck to her ear.
‘Tell me what you wanted to do to Remi,’ Dylan rasped into the soft shell of Greta’s ear, as her unrelenting thrusts already had Greta hurtling towards her climax.
‘I wanted to—Fuck!’ Greta yelled, stumbling as the increasing fervour forced the words from her mouth.
‘I wanted to fuck her.’ Her body pushed back and forth as she tried to stand firm.
The roughness of Dylan’s movements and the strength of her capable hands ignited a feverish desperation that drove Greta wild with a want for more.
‘I wanted to suck her swollen clit and fuck her with my tongue—Oh, God!’ she confessed through bursts of erratic breaths.
Dylan’s moans were growing louder, her hands gripping tighter. ‘Keep talking.’
‘I wanted your hands on me, Dylan. I wanted you to move them over me without me saying a word. I wanted to make you come while you were inside me,’ Greta rasped, pushing her head back, Dylan’s breaths landing on her cheek, her hips thrusting the dildo in and out with an unyielding force.
‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ Greta cried out.
‘I want you to beg me,’ Dylan panted.
‘What?’
‘Beg me to make you come.’
Greta pressed her hands into the door as Dylan slowed, the dildo still buried deep. The agony of the sudden stillness had Greta reaching back, her hand urging Dylan’s hips.
‘Don’t stop, Dylan. Please!’
‘What do you want, Greta?’
‘I want you to fuck— I want…’ Greta pushed and ground, fucking back against Dylan, filling herself, begging for more. ‘Make me… Oh God! Please make me come.’
Dylan’s hips began to move again. ‘Fuuuck!’ she cried out, her now hard and fast thrusts rapidly building her own orgasm. ‘Beg me.’
The sound and sensation of Dylan’s unrelenting fucking was as obscene as it was glorious. Her fingers dug deep into the flesh of Greta’s thigh. Greta felt taken, devoured, owned, and it was all unbidden. The exhilaration was almost too much to cope with, as Dylan grunted and groaned into her hair.
‘Make me come, Dylan,’ Greta whined. ‘Please make me come…’ She didn't have to beg much longer. With her orgasm hovering right on the edge as Dylan fucked her hard, she cried out, ‘Fuck me!’
Greta’s body pulsed and throbbed, alive with an unbridled desire as her gasps and filthy words of encouragement filled the space around them.
And then she was coming, harder and louder than she ever had in her life, Dylan’s name spilling from her in a deluge of sobs and whimpers.
With a loud guttural groan, Dylan followed moments later, her hips stopping abruptly, pressed into Greta, while the rest of her body convulsed against her back.
After a few moments, Dylan lowered Greta’s leg to the floor and slowly pulled out, though Greta kept her palms flat against the door, anchored to the spot. With both of Dylan’s arms wrapped around Greta’s waist they stood, pressed together chuckling lightly through their panting.
‘Miss St John!’ Greta said breathlessly, leaning her head back into Dylan. ‘You are absolutely filthy.’
Dylan pressed her mouth into Greta’s shoulder to bite down softly. ‘Fucking hell. You were put on this Earth to be fucked by me, Greta Vincent.’
Greta reached back, pushing her hand through Dylan’s hair. ‘I think that might be true.’
***