Epilogue #2
Laughing to herself, Dylan turned the handle and pushed her way inside.
Blinking quickly, she backed into the door to close it, inhaling deeply as Greta tossed her phone onto the bed and arched an eyebrow.
Dylan’s eyes widened, her gaze devouring every inch of her wife’s magnificence.
Between her perfectly styled waves, winged eyes and red lips, the sight of Greta was almost too much for Dylan to cope with.
She watched, mouth slightly agape, as Greta swayed towards her in the dark green lace and satin of her new Agent Provocateur set; the lingerie hugging her curves in all the right places.
Her manicured black nails pressed into her hips as she slowly narrowed the gap between them.
‘Jeeesus Christ,’ Dylan said in a low voice, as Greta’s saunter stopped just before reaching her. ‘You look—’
‘Don’t ruin this by speaking, Doctor,’ Greta interrupted with a knowing smile. Pressing a finger to Dylan’s lips she allowed a silent beat to pass before slowly dragging it down the soft curve of her lower lip, coaxing them apart for a brief moment.
Slowly licking her lips, Dylan tilted her head, her nostrils flaring as she took Greta in. ‘Well shut me the fuck up then, Professor,’ she replied, decimating the remaining space and crashing a searing kiss onto Greta’s mouth.
Greta’s fingers were a blur over Dylan’s body, swiftly undoing her jacket then sliding it off her shoulders, both smiling into their kiss as it hit the chair.
Dylan’s own fingers flicked open the first few buttons of her shirt before she dragged it with her sports bra over her head.
Greta’s hands immediately sought out Dylan’s chest, her touch felt hungry and urgent.
Looking down Dylan watched Greta suck her bottom lip between her teeth as she made a show of undoing her belt, letting the leather and buckle fall apart before turning her attention to the button and zip of her trousers; her gaze unwavering, eyebrow arched.
Chest heaving Dylan gulped at the air that was thick with lust. Bitten back whimpers escaped her throat as Greta’s mouth found her breasts.
Greta moved her tongue over her taut nipples, hands holding Dylan’s waist while gently guiding her backwards.
With Dylan pressed against the door, Greta kissed her way down Dylan’s body, eventually kneeling in supplication before her wife.
Her hands trailed over Dylan’s—now remarkable—abs before hooking her fingers into the waistband of her trousers and boxers, yanking them down over her hips and strong legs.
Looking up under her lashes, Greta placed a deep kiss over Dylan’s short pubic hair, inhaling deeply as she did.
‘What are you—’
‘This is your reward, Doctor.’ She kissed her again but lower this time. ‘You’re going to come in my mouth, and once you have, you’re going to take me to bed and fuck me until I literally beg you to stop.’ Her lips curled into a slow seductive smile. ‘Do you understand?’
Unable to muster a single word, Dylan simply nodded quickly, her need to have all of Greta firing through every synapse in her body.
More than anything in that moment, she craved the wet heat of Greta’s mouth against her.
The brief anticipation alone was agonising, but after their years together, Dylan knew the exact, familiar rhythm that was coming—the way Greta instinctively knew how to use her tongue against her clit.
How to read her, knowing when she was close, sucking harder and licking faster when she needed her to, or keeping it slow and gentle when she didn’t.
She knew exactly what to do simply by listening to and watching her wife.
It was the flawless precision of a woman who knew Dylan’s body better than she knew it herself, ready to coax an undoing orgasm from her.
Frantically heeling and toeing out of her boots and socks, Dylan stepped free of her trousers, kicking them aside to widen her stance, offering herself to Greta with a tilt of her pelvis.
Resting back against the door, Dylan inhaled deeply at the sensation of her wife’s flat palms pushing up her thighs, moving slowly towards her hips—hands that had explored every inch of her skin, yet always felt new to her, though it had been a while since it felt quite this electric.
Closing her eyes, Dylan let everything else fall away as she leaned into the feeling of Greta’s fingers holding her open, flat tongue licking her, and the closing of her full lips around her clit.
The soft rhythmic suck that followed almost made Dylan’s knees give way completely.
‘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.’