FIC: Smart Little Mouth, NC17, The Devil Wears Prada (Miranda/Andy)
Title: Smart Little Mouth
Author: ellipsisoveruse and ubiquitousmixie
Rating: NC-17, baby.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Disclaimer: Here's the thing…if we owned Miranda and Andy, do you honestly think we'd be writing? They belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox.
Summary: Miranda Priestly is a little...tense. Andy Sachs has just the remedy...
Author's Note: This fic started out as a short snippet to bribe ubiquitousmixie into cleaning her room. We may have gotten a little carried away, but hopefully you won't mind! The graphic was made by ubiquitousmixie, who is NOT a photoshop guru by any means, so don't be too harsh. Thank you, Meryl Streep, for providing brilliant motivation. Please please please comment! (apparently ubiquitousmixie is an idiot with her formatting and has no idea how to fix it!...please disregard!)
********
Andy was starving. She'd worked right through her fifteen minute lunch break. Her stomach growled and she looked at her watch, hoping she'd have a chance to run down to the cafeteria when Emily got back to the office. Shit. The run-through was in half an hour and, of course, Miranda was always fifteen minutes early. And Andy's presence was required. Andy swore under her breath. Miranda would kill her if her stomach growled during the run-through. She quickly went to the cupboard, and rummaged around in her oversized James Holt purse, hoping that she'd find something - anything - to sustain her.
Success! In one of the side pockets, she found a lollipop. Goodness knows how that got in there, but she was desperate.
Andy eyed the door to Miranda's office warily - the editor was in there, but was on the phone, and Andy knew she'd hear Miranda end the call in time to get rid of the evidence. She struggled with the wrapper for a brief few moments before finally unwrapping the candy.
Mmmm, strawberries and cream. Andy sucked hard on the candy, running her tongue over it, hoping to ingest as much of the sugar as possible before Miranda got off the phone. Ever short of time, Andy double-tasked, quickly firing off a few emails. Her brow furrowed as she puzzled over finding a diplomatic way of wording a very undiplomatic demand from Miranda to Calvin Klein, when suddenly she heard it.
Silence.
Shit.
She swiveled in her chair and came face to face with Miranda. The older woman arched her eyebrow, hand on her hip, looking at Andy over the top of her glasses. Andy had automatically reached for the lollipop, but froze momentarily at the sight of her boss, hand on the stick, before slowly withdrawing the candy from between her lips, terrified, certain to encounter Miranda's wrath.
"Oh, do go on, Andrea," Miranda drawled.
Andrea blinked, paused, and swirled her tongue around the pop. She sucked on it and slowly pulled it out of her mouth.
Miranda blinked, and opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again.
"It’s good," Andy said. "Want a lick?"
Miranda turned on her four inch Christian Louboutin heel and stalked back into her office without replying. Andy thought she heard Miranda mutter something about 'high fructose corn syrup' before the door slammed shut behind her.
Andy stared after her, her eyes focused on Miranda’s firm backside. She sucked harshly, the candy pulling off the stick. She spluttered, nearly choking. She quickly disposed of the stick in the trash can hidden discreetly under her desk, and, after a moment, what remained of the candy as well. She had no idea why Miranda hadn't killed her yet, but she wasn't game to chance it a second time.
She was thankful to have divested herself of the lollipop, for the slicing of Miranda’s voice through the silence caused her to jump. She promptly entered Miranda’s office.
Miranda licked her lips.
"Miranda, I -" Andy began, but Miranda silenced her with a look.
"If you ever pull a stunt like that again in my office, you will no longer have a tongue. Wouldn't that be a shame?"
Andy caught herself looking at Miranda's lips and pulled her eyes away quickly, hoping that the older woman hadn't noticed. "No, Miranda. I mean, yes, Miranda," she said, flustered.
"That's all."
Andy furrowed her brow, confusion etched into her features.
Miranda's withering glare caused Andy to squeak. "Something you wanted to say, Andrea? Eager to keep that pretty little tongue of yours working in my presence?" She paused. "Now where is Emily? Why isn't she back yet? I want everyone up here for the run-through. Now. Why is no one ready?" Miranda continued, standing up and pacing before finally stopping in front of the window, looking out across New York.
Andy watched Miranda square her shoulders, as if knowing she was being watched.
"You...you look tense, Miranda. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"
Miranda turned slowly, blinking into Andy's large doe eyes.
"Your job."
Andy scurried away, blushing, unable to believe what she'd just said. She was determined at least to make sure the run-through would go smoothly - as much as she could, anyway. Then maybe Miranda would just forget the disasters of earlier this afternoon. But, Andy mused, Miranda had been awfully tense lately, making a mental note to call and schedule an appointment with her masseuse.
After completing her list of errands and phoning Miranda's masseuse, facialist, and manicurist, Andy walked back into Miranda's office with her notebook clutched tightly in her hand. She watched as Miranda stretched her shoulders discreetly - obviously in discomfort, but still graceful in a way that only Miranda could be, Andy thought.
"Make me an appointment with Leif this afternoon," Miranda said suddenly, snapping Andy out of her brief reverie.
Andy paused nervously, beaming inwardly at her forethought. "Leif is in Denmark for two weeks, Miranda, but I'm sure I can find another massage therapist..."
"No. That won't do. Not at all." Miranda said, uncharacteristically petulant. Oh, she was always demanding, unreasonable, expecting perfection, but always calm - often a deadly calm, true - but petulance just wasn't her style.
Andy's mind whirled, trying to think of any other alternatives, before succumbing to the inevitable. "Well, um, Miranda - that is -" Miranda glared at her, and Andy got the message loud and clear. Get to the point. "I worked as a massage therapist during college. I'm qualified, and I still have all my equipment." Miranda arched her eyebrow, and Andy blushed. "That is, if you wanted someone familiar. Or, I could - I could try to get on to Leif and see if he'd come back early -"
Miranda shook her head, eyes wide, reminding Andy of the time she'd produced the Harry Potter book. God, she hoped she'd done something right, for once.
Andy suddenly had a sinking feeling that this could go awfully wrong. She'd seen Miranda's back artfully exposed by the finest designers - Valentino, Chanel, Versace - at a myriad of benefits and galas... and the very idea of exposing that soft, creamy skin to her touch, her warm fingers rubbing over Miranda's back, her neck, her shoulders, the scent of gardenias heady in the air -
No. She had to stop this. What was wrong with her? Thinking about Miranda like this - her boss - a woman - twice Andy's own age. Andy was on the verge of fleeing Miranda's office at a run, consequences be damned, because what could be worse than Miranda finding out what she was thinking? - when Miranda interrupted her thoughts. "That will suffice. Roy will take you to collect your equipment at eight and bring you to the townhouse, then you can return to Runway for The Book afterwards."
"Is there anything else, Miranda?"
Miranda paused, tapping her lips thoughtfully, then shook her head. "That's all."
********
The rest of Andy's day flew by. As always, the run-through was not up to Miranda's standards and Andy had been on the phone to designers all afternoon, trying to find something, anything, that would be good enough for Miranda. Nonetheless, she was still watching the clock all day, frustrated, nervous... and impatient.
Andy was in the car at ten minutes to eight, thankful that Roy was used to Miranda's tendency to be fifteen minutes early. She fidgeted incessantly, making ridiculous small talk with Roy, eternally grateful that Miranda wasn't in the car to listen to her babbling. When they arrived, Andy bolted up the stairs to her apartment, rummaging through her closet and pulling out her massage supplies. Quickly wiping the dust off everything, she threw the smaller items in her purse, everything else in a larger bag, and tucked the lightweight massage table awkwardly under her arm, relieved to hand it over when she reached the door and found Roy waiting for her.
If Andy thought she'd been nervous before, the ride to the townhouse was torturous. She hadn't done massage in over a year now, and this was Miranda Priestly for goodness sake. Used to the very best. She took a deep breath, and stepped onto the sidewalk. Roy brought the massage table in for her and Andy set it up in the living room on the ground floor. "See you at 10:30, Roy!" She waved cheerfully as the chauffer left, trying to overcome her nerves. Fake it until you make it, Andy. She took a deep breath and turned around, coming face to face with Miranda.
******
She had obviously been waiting for her. Miranda had removed her makeup and wore the same gray robe she'd worn in Paris. Andy gulped.
"Miranda, hi," Andy said. "I, um, set the massage table up in here, if that's okay? Or I could move it?" Miranda dismissed the suggestion with a flick of her hand and preceded Andy into the room.
Andy pulled some thick, soft towels out of her bag. Although they were much better than what she used for herself, they'd be nothing compared to what Miranda would have, but she didn't think Miranda would appreciate her getting massage oils all over her towels.
A sudden image invaded her mind, the older woman stepping from a steaming shower, wrapping herself in Egyptian cotton…
Andy shook her head, trying desperately to clear it. She spread a large bath sheet over the massage table and placed another folded towel near the end of the table. "I'll need you to remove your robe and lie down, Miranda," Andy said, glad that she managed to keep her voice from trembling.
She turned her back, cheeks flaming, as she rifled through her bag. She connected her iPod up to her speakers and soon relaxing music floated gently through the air, instantly calming Andy's nerves. This was familiar. It didn't matter who the woman on the table was. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Miranda had lain upon the table, covering herself with the second towel, but she didn't focus on the older woman. Instead, she went and dimmed the lights and lit a few tealight candles. "This is not some new-age zen affair, Andrea," Miranda said through gritted teeth, instantly snapping Andy back to reality. Maybe it did matter who the woman on the table was.
"Miranda, I am your masseur. We're doing this my way," Andy said forcefully, and for once, Miranda fell silent. "You just lie there and relax," Andy said, more quietly now. She took the bottle of massage oil from her bag and unscrewed the lid, inhaling the scent deeply. After this afternoon, she'd had serious qualms about bringing the gardenia, but now she was glad she had.
She poured a small amount of oil into the palm of her hand, warming it gently, looking down at her boss on the table beside her. Then finally, she took a deep breath, and ran her fingers gently down the curves of Miranda's shoulder blades.
Miranda gasped at the touch, though Andy's fingers were warm, but gradually relaxed as Andy's hands rubbed warm circles over her shoulders. Andy found the familiar routine almost like a meditation, the familiar sounds and scents bringing her to a deep state of calm and relaxation. She worked her fingers slowly down the path of Miranda's spine, gently working the knotted muscles, wondering at the amount of tension she found in the older woman's back. Andy forgot the way this woman could terrify her, forgot that she was impossible and demanding and sometimes downright mean. Here, more than ever before, Miranda was simply a woman. A woman who worked hard, a woman who worried, a woman who hurt - for surely, this tense, she'd been suffering for weeks. Not that Andy hadn't suffered, too. But right now, that didn't matter.
Andy was gentle, massaging slowly, feeling Miranda's muscles relax one by one, her skin warming beneath Andrea's fingers. Miranda sighed deeply and Andy bit her bottom lip, but didn't stop the massage. "You need to do this more often, Miranda," she whispered, knowing full well that no one ever told Miranda Priestly what to do. But Miranda simply moved her head, in what Andy assumed was a nod. Emboldened, Andy continued, "You're carrying a lot of tension in your shoulders. I know this hurts, but it will hurt less if we do it regularly - at least once a week".
"You think so, do you?" Miranda asked, her voice no louder than a whisper.
"I know so. You would be so much more at ease if you let out tension every once in a while." Andy worked the pads of her thumbs into Miranda’s shoulders.
Miranda groaned. "You sound so certain about what you think I need."
Andy swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She inhaled the heady scent of gardenia and continued. "I know what you need, Miranda. I can feel it in your body."
Andy's hands slid lower down Miranda's back, massaging her lumbar area deeply. Miranda whimpered softly and Andy's fingers froze, the sound affecting her more than she could have imagined. She could hear her pulse throbbing, the rich scent of the oil making her feel lightheaded.
"Don't stop." Miranda growled, and Andy wondered if Miranda's face was as flushed as hers. It certainly sounded like it. But, ever obedient, Andy took a deep breath and continued the massage.
"I won't. Your body would hate me if I stopped," Andy replied, her eyes widening at the audacity of her words.
"Why is that?" Miranda asked, her voice husky.
"You should never stop in the middle of a massage. You're still holding onto too much tension. You won't really feel better until you really let it all go." As she spoke, her hands worked lower, smoothing against the edge of the towel that was folded primly over Miranda's backside. As the cloth grazed her fingers, the force of her desire to slip beneath it shocked her, causing her to press hard into Miranda's lower back.
A moan escaped Miranda's lips.
"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"No. My lower back needs more attention."
"Oh." Andy placed her hands above the towel and began to knead flesh with her fingers. "Here?"
"Lower."
Andy slipped her hands just beneath the towel, massaging the gentle rise of Miranda's backside, wondering what on earth she was doing. What on earth Miranda was thinking. It must be the scent of the gardenias, or blood rushing to Miranda's head - Andy paused abruptly in her train of thought. What if it really was something medical? Had Miranda had any water to drink? She pulled her hands out from beneath the towel as if they'd been burned, wiping them on a spare towel beside her bag. She pulled out a bottle of Evian out of her bag - no longer really chilled, but still cool.
"What are you doing, Andrea?" Miranda asked, dangerously.
"Miranda, you need to sit up. You need to drink -"
"I need no such thing. What are you suggesting?"
"Miranda," Andy said desperately. "I know you're my boss, but in here, I'm the expert. I'm the masseur. A massage releases toxins, and you need to drink some water. You will -" she faltered, but the idea of being responsible for Miranda Priestly passing out was too terrifying to contemplate. "Sit up, Miranda."
Miranda lifted herself languorously into a sitting position, graceful movements reminiscent of a large cat. All thoughts of winning the argument fled from Andy's mind as she saw the challenging look in Miranda's eyes, her back slightly arched, daring Andy to look at her body, the towel having fallen to the floor, a mere scrap of lace at her hips her only tribute to modesty. Andy tried to look at the ceiling as she handed the water to Miranda.
Andy chewed on her lower lip, staring so hard at the wall that she wondered if she'd harbored dormant telekinetic powers and might peel the paint from the walls with the force of her gaze. Behind her, she could hear Miranda swallow a mouthful of water before screwing on the cap.
"All-" Andrea cleared her throat. "All set?"
"Yes."
She heard the bottle set on the floor, followed by an audible wince. Abandoning her sense of propriety at Miranda's nudity, she spun around, her eyes wide. "Are you okay?"
Miranda nose scrunched in what appeared to be discomfort. "Lower back."
"Where, exactly?"
Miranda met Andrea's eyes, her gaze steady and dark, before she shifted her eyes to her side, where her hand was pressed to her back. "Here."
"Where I was just before I gave you water?"
"Yes," Miranda drawled. She arched her back as if hoping to diffuse some of the tension herself, forcing her chest to rise higher. Andrea glanced quickly and, upon settling her eyes on the swell of Miranda's ivory breasts and taut pink nipples, she looked away. "Only this time," Miranda continued, "I want it harder."
Miranda lay back down on the table, and Andy, flushing, replaced the towel, then resuming her massage. She worked the muscles in Miranda's back for another twenty minutes until they all felt looser, then, applying some more of the oil to her hands, proceeded more gently, using long, soft strokes - relaxation techniques, rather than remedial ones. Miranda hummed in pleasure and Andy grinned.
Half an hour later, Andy wiped her hands and Miranda's back on the spare towel. "Feeling better now?"
"Mm-hmm," Miranda said, not moving.
"Is - is there anything else you need, Miranda?"
Miranda lifted her head, propping it up on her hand, covering her breasts with her other arm, but the sight took Andy's breath away nonetheless. "Would you give me what I need, Andrea?" she asked, eyes smoldering.
Andy paused, never removing her eyes from Miranda's. "Of course. You--that is--you're my boss. It's my job to give you what you need. Anything you need."
Disappointment flashed across Miranda's face. "Your boss."
"Well....I mean...you are. My boss, that is."
"That fact is immaterial to what I'm asking you."
"Miranda, what are you asking me?" She held her breath.
Miranda rolled her eyes and sat up, leaving the towel on the massage table. She swung her legs over the edge of the table. "That's all."
Andrea knit her brows. "No. I don't think it is."
Miranda raised her eyebrows, swallowing hard as Andy stepped closer.
Andy raised her hand to Miranda's cheek in the briefest of caresses. "Tell me what you want, Miranda." Hoping she'd read Miranda correctly. Hoping she'd live long enough to collect The Book. Knowing that she'd never have an opportunity like this again.
Miranda's eyes widened, and now Andy knew. Miranda drew a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she exhaled. "Andrea," she said hoarsely, but was silenced as Andy leaned in and kissed her softly, one arm sliding around Miranda's waist when she felt no resistance, drawing them closer. Just as Miranda had recovered enough to respond, Andy broke the kiss as gently as she'd begun it, drawing a whimper from Miranda's lips, pulling back just enough to look into Miranda's eyes.
"Is this what you want, Miranda?" she breathed.
Miranda exhaled sharply through her nose, breath hot against Andy's face. Andy held her breath, waiting for an answer.
The older woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but promptly closed her lips around Andy's plump bottom one, sucking and dragging her teeth against it.
Andy whimpered, her fingers clutching at the curve of Miranda's waist. Miranda released Andy's lip, giving them both a moment to breathe before she slanted her mouth over Andy's, stroking her tongue harshly against her own.
Unable to do anything else, Andy kissed back, stepping closer to her boss. Miranda's legs parted, welcoming the press of her body against her own. To Andy's surprise, one of Miranda's legs curled around Andy's hips, drawing her tight against her. Andy could almost feel Miranda's heat burning through lace and clothes. She moaned.
Miranda pulled away from the kiss, fastening her lips to Andy's throat, teeth scraping and tongue lapping in exquisite intensity that left Andy dizzy with want.
"Unh...aahh...Mir--andaahhh...we have to stop."
Miranda ignored her, sucking at the nape of her neck.
Andrea pulled back. "We have to stop. I...I need to get The Book."
"Fuck The Book."
Miranda slid off the massage table and spun Andy around, pinning her against the table, kissing her jaw line urgently. Suddenly she bent slightly, grabbing at Andy's lower thighs, and Andy gasped as Miranda lifted her on to the table, pushing her down into a reclining position. Miranda climbed on to the table, straddling one of Andy's legs, a predatory look in her eyes. Andy fell back, her head resting in the hollow where Miranda's had only a few minutes earlier. This suited Miranda very well indeed, giving her full access to that long, innocent neck, begging for her touch.
And touch she did, Andy moaning and whimpering in response. Andy reached up to undo the buttons of her shirt, but Miranda slapped her fingers away. "Mine," she growled, reaching down to undo the buttons, divesting Andy of the garment moments later.
Andy sucked in a breath as Miranda's mouth closed around one lace-encased nipple. She leaned her head back into the table, closing her eyes as Miranda's tongue assaulted her through her bra. She let out a moan.
"All mine," Miranda husked, drawing Andy's taut nipple to an even harder peak with her teeth.
"Oh God," Andy whimpered, tangling her fingers in Miranda's silver hair. She was surprised by how soft it was. She scraped her nails against Miranda's scalp, arching her back as Miranda's fingers deftly removed Andy's bra.
But passion could not completely erase remembrances of her obligations, and Andy painstakingly asked, "What....oooh...what about Roy?"
Miranda looked up. "What about him?" she hissed, biting Andy's breast. "Would you rather be with Roy right now?" As she spat out the name of her driver, Miranda cupped her hand against Andy's sex, digging the heel of her palm into Andy's clit.
Andy cried out, arching hard into the contact. "Just - he's picking me up," she panted.
"For God's sake, Andrea," Miranda grumbled. She climbed off the table and sauntered to the other side of the room, obviously well aware of the impact the view was having on Andy, who whimpered. Miranda arched her eyebrow, "You wanted me to get up."
"Never again," Andy said without thinking, her voice husky, eliciting a grin from Miranda. Looking back over her shoulder at her assistant lying on the table, submissive, wanting, waiting for her, she had to suppress a whimper of her own.
She made a quick phone call to Roy, ending with a forceful "No" and a "That's all". Andy knew that that should really not be a turn-on, but God help her, it was. Moments later, Miranda stood beside the table, leaning down and kissing Andy hungrily, breaking the kiss far too soon for Andy's liking. "Now that you've -" Miranda began, pausing to drag her teeth and her tongue across Andy's collarbone, "- interrupted the mood -" she cupped Andy's breast, twisting her nipple until Andy gasped, "- why don't we take this -" her mouth now teasing the sensitive skin behind Andy's ear, while Andy moaned and arched beneath her, "- somewhere -" biting Andy's earlobe "- with a bed?"
It was not a question, but Andy nodded, moaning Miranda's name as the older woman's mouth discovered sensitive places. She pulled Miranda's head down to hers for a long, deep kiss, before sitting up. Never had one of Miranda's 'requests' been so enticing, and oh, what she could do to this woman in a bed...
Miranda stepped between her legs, straddling Andy's thigh, crying out as Andy ground against her. "How do you do this to me?" Miranda gasped, and Andy chuckled.
Then Miranda broke away suddenly and fled the room, leaving Andy bereft, hurt and confused. She waited, hoping that Miranda would return, knowing that the older woman would definitely not appreciate her exploring her house, even under the circumstances.
******
What felt like an eternity later, her blackberry vibrated, signaling an incoming message.
"For God's sake, Andrea, do not keep me waiting. Third floor, second on the right."
Oh. Andy felt a flush creep to her cheeks. Miranda hadn't run away. Miranda was waiting for her in her bedroom. The mere thought of Miranda's bedroom drew a light, breathy moan from Andy, and she blew out the candles and headed up the stairs as quickly as she could.
Andy entered Miranda's room, which was dark save for a lamp beside a spacious bed. She frowned upon noting that the bed was empty.
"Miranda?" She walked into the room, glancing around for any sign of her boss. Behind her, the door clicked as it shut. She spun on her heels, her eyes widening as she came face to face with a completely naked Miranda Priestly. She had divested herself of the black lace and stood, entirely unabashed, with her hands on her waist.
"I was beginning to think I'd be continuing this on my own."
The thought of Miranda touching herself made Andy's mouth go dry. "Maybe some other time. Assuming I get to watch, that is."
"You'd like that," Miranda began, stalking towards Andy with a predatory gleam in her eyes, "wouldn't you?" Her warm fingers reached to unfasten the button of Andy's pants. "You like to watch me."
"Y--yes," Andy hissed, her knees hitting the back of the bed. Miranda hooked her fingers into her pants and underwear, drawing them down at a leisurely pace. She bit her lip as her boss knelt before her, guiding her legs out of her clothes.
"You fuck me with your eyes every day, don't you?"
"Uunh --yes." Andrea gasped as Miranda pushed her back against the bed before climbing over her, straddling her hips.
"Well," Miranda began, grinding her hips down over Andy's, "let's see what that smart little mouth and those quick fingers are made of, shall we?"
Andy whimpered and slid her hands along Miranda's thighs. Before she could reach her destination, Miranda grabbed her hands and held them above the assistant's head.
"No. Not yet. We do this my way."
Andy cried out, bucking against Miranda's restraint, and Miranda moaned softly under her breath as Andy's breasts brushed against her own. This was going to be harder than she'd expected.
"You have no idea," Miranda murmured as her lips placed feather-light kisses along Andy’s jaw, "how long I've wanted this."
Andy closed her eyes and groaned. "I think I may have an idea."
Miranda’s teeth nipped at her earlobe before her tongue darted along the sensitive skin behind it. Her hips swiveled against Andy’s abdomen; Andy could feel Miranda’s hot wetness coating her flesh. "Oh - please."
Miranda bit the nape of her neck. "Please what?" She bit the swell of her breast.
"I-I need-oooh."
Miranda’s tongue brushed lightly against Andy’s nipple, swirling faintly around it, careful not to give Andy what she so desperately needed.
“Oh no," Miranda breathed into Andy's ear. "No, Andrea, after what you've put me through, you're going to have to wait longer than that. Sauntering around the office in those Chanel boots and sheer Versace blouses. And that stunt with the candy today." Miranda rolled her eyes heavenward. "I couldn't concentrate at the run-through, Andrea."
"N-no?" Andy squeaked, as Miranda's hot tongue traced the shell of her ear.
"Is that what you wanted, Andrea? To drive me to distraction?" Andy grinned, and Miranda sniffed in mock outrage. Then, turning serious, "is this what you want? I don't want - I mean -"
"You want to know what I want?" Andy asked innocently, looking down at Miranda's naked body straddling her own. Miranda paled. But Andy's eyes darkened and her tone dropped lower. "I want to make you come so hard that you scream my name, and then, before you can catch your breath, I'm going to start all over again, but slowly, so slowly, until you're begging for it." Miranda whimpered, grinding involuntarily against Andy's hip. "Do you want to find out what my smart little mouth can really do, Miranda?"
Miranda's eyes widened, gasping at the vivid images that flooded her mind. This gave Andy the opportunity she needed, and she wrested her wrists from Miranda's grip, and pulled the older woman's face to hers, kissing her roughly, thrusting her tongue into Miranda's mouth. Not breaking the kiss, she trailed her hand down Miranda's body, grazing her breast, along her stomach and over her hip, breath catching as she heard Miranda moan, before finally sliding her fingers lower.
Miranda cried out at the first brush of Andy's fingers. "Oh, you're so ready, aren't you? You want this so badly, you've wanted it forever." Miranda nodded, gasping for breath, eyes firmly closed. "Tell me. Tell me what you want, Miranda," Andy breathed.
Miranda shuddered. "Haven't we already established what I want?" She leaned forward, sucking harshly on Andrea's shoulder.
Andy groaned, bucking her hips in response to Miranda's fast, devilish mouth. "I want you to say it," Andy said, tickling her fingers along the length of Miranda's very wet slit. "Tell me, Miranda," she said, her voice low and silky, her fingers circling widely around her clit and positioning at Miranda's opening.
"I want you," Miranda said, straightening her back and cupping Andy's breasts with her hands, "to fuck me." As she spat out her desire, she shifted her hips down, impaling herself on Andy's long, slim fingers.
Dizziness swept over Andy's body as she attempted to process the situation. Miranda Priestly was riding her fingers. Hard. Like her life would end if she didn't get off by Andrea's touch. She'd never seen Miranda like this before, so uninhibited, so wanton and exposed. As Miranda rolled her hips around her hand, she felt a slight pang of discomfort in her wrist. It didn't matter. Miranda could fuck her hand off for all she cared, as long as she got to give the older woman exactly what she so desperately needed.
"Is this good, Miranda?"
Miranda pinched at Andy's nipples, rocking harder against her. "M--more--"
Andrea slid in a third finger, holding her breath as a look of exquisite pleasure wrought the editor's face. Miranda tossed her head back, moaning loudly. Andy could feel Miranda's thighs tensing around her and, desperate for more, for anything, she leaned up and, wrapping an arm around Miranda's waist to keep her in place, she repositioned them so that Miranda was astride her lap. Miranda wrapped her arms around Andy's neck, their breasts pressed flush together.
"Come for me, Miranda," Andy whispered against Miranda's mouth.
Miranda tried to resist, hating the idea of doing what she was told, but Andy's fingers were thrusting between her thighs and her tongue was in her mouth, battling for control, thrusting in time with her fingers, and oh God, what had she said about that smart little mouth? The sensations were overwhelming; her control shattered, eyes flying shut, arching her back and digging her fingers into Andy's shoulders, crying out as her muscles clenched tightly around her assistant's dexterous fingers.
******
Andy held Miranda tightly as she came down from her climax, running her fingers through Miranda's hair, unruly now, and dampened with sweat. She kissed along Miranda's jaw, whispering in her ear, words that Miranda couldn't begin to comprehend in her current state.
Miranda was gasping for air, heart pounding; she'd had good sex before, but never anything like this. Nothing - nothing like this.
Andy slid her fingers from between Miranda's thighs and brought them up to cup her breast, gently rolling Miranda over onto the bed. Miranda barely noticed, her eyes still closed, heart still racing.
Andy's fingers, slick with Miranda's come, twisted Miranda's nipple roughly, and when she gasped, Andy bent her head down, taking it in her mouth, sucking and nipping as Miranda squirmed beneath her. Miranda moaned deeply, uncharacteristically uninhibited, but Andy pulled away. "Oh no, Miranda. This time, we take it slow. This time, you'll have to beg me for it until you can't stand it anymore. Will you beg me, Miranda?"
"I don't beg," Miranda responded. Andy grinned at the complete lack of conviction in the older woman's voice.
"I think you do," Andy said, repositioning herself so that she was on all fours above her -- close, but not touching. "I think you'll beg for me." She teased her tongue lightly along Miranda's collarbone, dragging slowly down her sternum, circling her belly button.
Miranda's fists clenched the bed sheets, her body writhing in unbridled need.
"Beg me, Miranda," Andy whispered as she knelt between Miranda's thighs. She blew her breath against Miranda's legs, teasing around the spot where she and Miranda both needed her to be.
"Please," Miranda whimpered, looking down at Andy, who licked her lips. "P--please."
"Please what, Miranda? What do you need?" Andy's tongue flicked out gently against Miranda's slit. Her hips bucked.
"Fuck me. Andrea--please..."
"Do you want my fingers, Miranda?" Andy questioned, teasing her index finger between Miranda's slick folds, grazing her sensitive clit. Miranda cried out. "Or do you want my tongue?" Parting her, Andy's tongue circled her clit.
"Yes! God...please, yes!"
"Do you want me to eat you out, Miranda? Do you want me to taste you...to drink you?"
Miranda's response was inaudible as a thick moan passed her lips. She closed her eyes and dropped her head against the mattress. Andy smirked. With the flat of her tongue, she licked the length of Miranda's sex from her entrance to her clit, easing up with pressure once she reached the tiny nub. She'd never gone down on another woman before, but as she tasted Miranda's bitter sweetness, she knew she was hooked.
She nipped her teeth against Miranda's clit. Miranda screamed.
"You like it rough, don't you?"
"Y- yes," Miranda panted.
"But rough doesn't mean we can't take it slowly." Andy sat up, and Miranda whimpered at the loss of contact. Once again on all fours above Miranda, Andy nipped her sharply behind the ear. "Do you want to know what you taste like, Miranda?" she breathed.
"Oh - oh - yes."
"Yes what?"
"P- please, Andrea -"
Andy brought her lips crashing down firmly on Miranda's, driving her tongue into her mouth without waiting for permission. Miranda let out a muffled moan at the bitter taste she encountered; at the way this woman was unraveling her so completely. Miranda's hands tangled in Andy's hair, tugging at it roughly when Andy threatened to move away, then ran down Andy's neck to her shoulders, gripping tightly.
Andy reached down and cupped Miranda's breast, swallowing another moan as she did so. She twisted Miranda's nipple sharply, and Miranda cried out, arching her back and digging her fingers into Andy's shoulders. Miranda whimpered as she saw three matching lines of red begin to well on Andy's smooth back and Andy pulled away.
"Well, well," Andy grinned. "Kitty likes to scratch." She paused. "I think you'll have to pay for that, Miranda. Do you want to pay for it?"
"Oh, yes!" Miranda sobbed. "Anything - anything. Just, oh God, touch me. Please, Andrea, touch me?"
Andy's breath hissed at the sight of the older woman beneath her, sobbing, begging, so desperate. She bent down and sucked sharply at the woman's hip. Miranda bucked against her, and Andy bit down hard, eliciting another cry of pleasure from her lover. "Sssh. Slowly, Miranda." She soothed with her voice and her lips, tracing her tongue gently over the bite mark, nipping when it took her fancy, wanting to taste this woman, to break her, to build her again from her pieces.
Andy slid back up the bed, turning her attention to Miranda's neck, alternating between sucking and laving the soft skin with her tongue. Idly she wondered if Miranda owned a turtleneck - she'd need it tomorrow - but Andy didn't care. Miranda tasted so good - expensive perfume, the tang of sweat, and something else purely Miranda.
Miranda was breathing rapidly, writhing against Andy's body, too far gone to regain control, whimpering, moaning, grinding her hips against Andy's leg, but Andy pulled away. "Not yet." Miranda cried out desperately as Andy's head sank to her breasts, taking each nipple into her mouth in turn, swirling her tongue around it, scraping her teeth over the sensitive skin, fingers running down Miranda's thigh, so close, but so far from where she needed them.
"An- please, please, I can't, I can't-" Miranda begged, nearly hyperventilating. Andy sat back, taking in the sight before her. Miranda was a mess - her hair was everywhere, her eyes scrunched closed, face flushed, muscles tense, covered in a light sheen of sweat.
"Are you ready?"
"Oh, yes, oh God yes."
"You look ready," Andy observed with a grin. "Spread your legs for me, Miranda." Almost sobbing, Miranda complied. Andy suppressed a whimper at the sight of her boss - of Miranda Priestly - so desperate, so exposed, willing to do anything just for Andy's touch.
Andy knelt between Miranda's thighs and waited. After a moment, Miranda lifted her head, glaring at Andy. "What the hell are you waiting for, Andrea?" she growled. Andy grinned, glad to have her Miranda back, and bent down to give her what she wanted so badly.
With a hard, broad sweep of her tongue, Andy licked Miranda. The older woman cried out, thrusting her hips in her attempt to get closer to Andrea's mouth. Andy curled her arms around Miranda's thighs, pinning her hips to the bed, and used the fingers of her left hand to spread Miranda wide open.
She blew teasingly once more, her warm breath causing a violent shudder to jolt through Miranda's body.
"For Christ's sake, Andrea, eat me or I'll--"
Before Miranda could finish her threat, Andrea's tongue began to massage against her clit with fervor. Miranda's fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her and pulling with each lick.
Andy drew Miranda's clit into her mouth and sucked, rolling her tongue around the sensitive bud, and then it happened.
For the second time, she made Miranda Priestly come.
It was as though the earlier orgasm had never happened. This climax was harder, deeper -- Miranda's entire body shook. Andy leaned back on her heels, her eyes wide as she watched the look of ecstasy wash over Miranda's face. A harsh throb pounded between her legs. She could feel her own arousal coating her thighs, but she ignored her own need. This was about Miranda. She slid her fingers inside once more, curling them gently to stroke against her, and flicked her tongue once more against her clit.
Miranda came again.
After several moments, the older woman released her grip on Andy's hair and pushed her away, faintly mumbling that it was too much. Andy complied, crawling up over Miranda's body and settling against her side, grinning widely as she watched her boss settle into a pleasant afterglow.
"I can hear you smiling," Miranda said, her eyes closed. She drew in a deep breath.
Andy smiled wider.
"You're quite pleased with yourself, aren't you?"
"Yep."
Miranda opened her eyes and looked at Andy. "You should be." And, to Andy's surprise, pinned her against the mattress as she hovered over her. "Do you know how often people successfully turn the tables on me, Andrea?"
"Um, not often?"
"Indeed. And do you know how often I've had more than one orgasm in the span of an hour?"
Andy scrunched her face into a confused pout. She most definitely did not want to know about other people making her come.
"Never."
Andy beamed and Miranda rolled her eyes. "You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?"
"Yep. Now will you shut up and kiss me?"
To Andy's complete amazement, Miranda obliged.
The kiss was long and languorous, Miranda still fighting against the hormones flooding her body, urging her to relax, but she refused to let herself succumb until she'd given as good as she'd received.
Andy didn't mind. She was overwhelmed by the taste and feel of Miranda's mouth and tongue against her own, the gentle press of her weight above her, the brushes of Miranda's thigh against her leg, their breasts pressing together, Miranda's hand caressing her cheek. Her breathing was shallow, desire pooling between her thighs, struggling just to enjoy each moment - not to rush, because who knew what the morning would bring? No, she would savor this. Savor Miranda.
Andy cupped her hands behind Miranda's head, drawing her more deeply into the kiss, running her fingers through Miranda's hair, still damp with sweat, and down to Miranda's back, tracing lazy circles along it with her fingernails. Miranda purred against Andy's mouth, then pulled back. "This is your turn, Andrea," she said reprovingly.
"Yes, Miranda. Whatever you say, Miranda." Andy replied innocently. Miranda quirked her eyebrow, then suddenly laughed, finally resting her head against Andy's shoulder.
"You really are incorrigible."
"Yup." Andy grinned.
"We'll see about that." Miranda reached over to her bedside table, pulling something out of the top drawer. Before Andy could make out what it was, Miranda had grabbed both of her wrists firmly and pulled them up to the headboard. When Andy heard the whisper of silk as it slid over her skin, she swallowed. Perhaps she shouldn't have teased the Devil...
Miranda, straddling Andy's hips once more, sat back against her after she'd fastened the knot. Andy tugged; the binds weren’t loose enough that she could pull free. She was now completely at Miranda's disposal. Her body quivered.
"Are you nervous, Andrea?"
"Should I be?"
"You're mine. I can do anything at all that I want with you," Miranda said, teasing her fingertips along Andy's stomach.
Andy licked her lips, watching as Miranda walked her fingers up the ladder of her ribs before circling the mounds of her breasts. "Should, uh, I have a safe word or something?"
Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Do you feel unsafe?"
"I'd trust you with my life, Miranda."
Shock lingered over Miranda's face before softening. "Is that so?"
Andy nodded and bit her lip, wondering how far she should tread before overstepping her bounds. "This...this isn't just about, you know, sex. I...trust you. Very much."
Miranda looked away. "I... that's good. I'm glad. I wouldn't do anything to compromise you, Andrea."
And then, despite Harry Potter books and impossible tasks, Andy knew that Miranda meant it. Before she could fish for any other truths, Miranda leaned down and placed a soft, silencing kiss on her lips. "Let's save that conversation for later, shall we?" Andy nodded, and Miranda continued, "I've got you tied up naked on my bed. Perhaps we can find more interesting things to do with my mouth than chit chat?"
Andy whimpered and squirmed beneath Miranda. "Fuck. Oh...please, Miranda..."
"What would you like me to do?" Miranda sat up and began to slowly rock her hips against Andy, wetting her small tuft of hair with Miranda's arousal. "What do you fantasize about all day when you're sitting at your desk?"
"You," Andy gulped, her eyes widening as Miranda's fingers slid down her own stomach and then up Miranda's thighs.
"Mmm...yes," Miranda said, sliding her hands across her lower abdomen. "I can tell. I was right in what I said earlier, wasn't I?"
Andy scrunched her forehead in confusion, licking her lips as the older woman dropped one of her hands between her legs.
"You like to watch me." Miranda's knuckled brushed against Andy's sex as she fucked herself.
"Holy Christ, yes," Andy gasped, the image of Miranda Priestly masturbating burning into her retinas. She struggled slightly, yearning to free her arms and touch Miranda herself, and she whimpered at her captivity. She arched her hips as Miranda's hand brushed against her own aching clit once again. "Miranda..."
The sound of Andy whimpering her name sent a new rush of desire coursing through Miranda's veins. Gasping, she pumped her fingers faster, brushing against Andy's clit with each down-stroke. Andy writhed beneath her, pulling against her restraints, but Hermes' scarves wouldn't tear, and Miranda was evidently as good at tying knots as she was at everything else. Andy began to shudder at the contact - close, so close already.
Without warning, Miranda withdrew her fingers, sliding two of them deeply inside Andy, who cried out sharply, bucking against Miranda's hand. Her eyes were screwed closed, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the building tension evident on her face. As she began to whimper, Miranda withdrew her fingers and slid one into her mouth, smirking at Andy's wide-eyed reaction.
"We taste good together." Andy nodded dumbly, until Miranda raised her hand to her Andy's lips, offering. Desperate for some control, Andy drew Miranda's finger into her mouth, sucking on it fervently, rolling her tongue over it, savoring their mingled juices.
"Oh, God, Miranda - please..."
"Now who's begging?" smirked Miranda as she repositioned her fingers at Andy's opening.
"Ppplease," Andy moaned, her eyes rolling back into her head as Miranda's fingers slid slowly inside of her. She was vaguely aware of her thighs parting of their own accord, opening herself completely to Miranda. She curled her leg around Miranda's hip, arching her back in her attempt to draw Miranda deeper within her.
"Patience, my dear. I want to enjoy this." Slowly, achingly, the fingers drew out, slipping with ease given the generous lubrication that flowed from Andy's depths. Miranda's index finger circled the sensitive entrance before plunging back in just as languorously.
Andy shifted her hips, groaning loudly. She opened her eyes, watching as a look of exquisite pleasure and fascination flushed over Miranda's features. As they made eye contact, Miranda leaned forward and placed a single, soft kiss on each of Andy's breasts. She kissed her way down Andy's abdomen as a second, a third, and a fourth finger slipped inside.
A pleasant burn settled within Andy's loins and she bit harshly on her lip as Miranda began to thrust a little faster.
"Close your eyes," Miranda commanded, removing her hand.
Andy whimpered, bereft, but in this moment, she would walk over burning coals if Miranda asked her to, so she closed her eyes obediently. She inhaled deeply, a combination of her arousal and the heady aroma that filled the room: gardenias and sex. Andy had never smelled anything more intoxicating.
Andy felt the mattress shift around her, and Miranda's hot breath fell suddenly upon her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Can I trust you, Andrea, or do I need another scarf?"
Andy gasped. "Y-you can trust me."
"Hmm," Miranda paused. "I believe I can. But Hermes does suit you rather well."
Andy heard a drawer slide open and closed, then shivered as Miranda caressed her stomach with the cool silk, before drawing the scarf up to Andy's eyes.
"Lift your head for me," Miranda said tenderly, reaching around to tie the scarf, then placing a gentle kiss upon Andy's temple. "Is that good?" Andy nodded, feeling the mattress move again, all senses heightened, straining to hear any sound that would betray Miranda's intentions.
Andy felt the slightest of brushes against the inside of her thigh - or was it her imagination? No, there it was again, soft and fine, not skin, but what - oh God.
Oh God.
Miranda's hair.
Andy's suspicions were confirmed as Miranda pinned her hips against the mattress, running her tongue up the inside of Andy's thigh.
"Oooh god, Miranda... you're killing...unh... me..."
Miranda responded by nipping at Andy’s thigh. "Now you know how I feel every day."
Andy shuddered, her toes curling as Miranda’s tongue sucked at the juncture where thigh met hip. She teased both sides before bestowing the same attention to her labia.
Raw, animalistic noises parted her mouth, sounding foreign and distant as arousal carried her to heights she had never before reached. She had never been so turned on and had certainly never been made love to like she was the most desirable woman in existence. She felt like a goddess. She felt like the passion and overwhelming connection she was sharing with her boss would shatter her from the inside out.
If Miranda had been hesitant about going down on Andy, she certainly couldn't tell by the way the older woman carefully parted her and began to lick like she was a decadent dessert. This, combined with the feather soft caressing of Miranda’s fingers against her legs and her hair tickling her thighs, drove her senses wild.
To Andy’s delight and dismay, she lasted only moments. As Miranda swept her tongue over and around her clit, Andy’s entire body tensed, her arms pulling harshly against her bindings, and she came with a hoarse cry of Miranda’s name.
******
"Miranda, please," Andy moaned. "Let me go."
"Let you go?" Miranda asked tonelessly.
"Oh - not go go! But can you untie me?"
"Very well," Miranda muttered, untying the scarf around Andy's eyes. But she wouldn't make eye contact, and Andy realised that Miranda was truly afraid that Andy would just leave.
"Hey. Miranda? Look at me." Miranda silently and studiously focused on the knot at Andy's wrists as if she hadn't heard a thing. Finally Andy's wrists were free and Miranda moved quickly to slide off the bed. But Andy had always been well attuned to Miranda, and caught her before she could, one hand on Miranda's hip, the other reaching up to caress her cheek. Miranda's eyes fluttered closed. "Miranda? Miranda, I'm not going anywhere." Miranda's eyes stayed closed, but Andy fancied that her breathing had evened out, that she turned her head into the caress ever-so-slightly. "Look at me, Miranda," she asked, voice gentle. Miranda's eyes opened slowly, deep blue meeting clear brown. "I'm not going anywhere," Andy repeated, and a hint of a smile flickered over Miranda's face as Andy drew her in for a deep, slow kiss, imbued with all the words she wasn't sure she could say.
Andy winced a little as she glanced at her wrists, noting the red marks that would undoubtedly still be visible for the next few days. Miranda examined them as well and frowned.
"I'm so--"
"No," Andy said, covering Miranda's mouth with her hand. "No apologies. It's kinda kinky. I like it."
Miranda rolled her eyes and, when Andy did not remove her hand, began to lick her fingers. Andy giggled, slipped her hand behind Miranda's neck, and pulled her in for another kiss. This one was considerably more relaxed and as they settled against the bed, tangled in each other, Andy let out a sigh.
"Everything," Miranda began, unable to keep her lips parted from Andy's for longer than a few moments, "all right?"
Andy smiled into the kisses. "Better...than...all right."
Miranda's tongue slowly rolled around Andy's, her arms tightly wound around the younger woman's waist, her leg nestled firmly between Andy's. As they kissed, taking the time to suck and nip on each other's lips, they began to move, their hips gyrating languidly together.
It was amazing that, with a ridiculous number of orgasms between them, that they still had the stamina and desire to seek more. This, Andy noted, was different. It was less frenzied, less raw and needy. It was....intimate.
Sweat slicked their bodies as their sexes rubbed against smooth thighs. Miranda's hand dropped to Andy's backside, pulling her closer for further contact, without breaking the kiss. Andy mimicked the gesture and within moments they were grinding against each other furiously as if it were the only thing that mattered.
Their foreheads pressed together, hot breaths intermingling between their faces. Andy opened her eyes and stared into Miranda's, who apparently hadn't intended to get caught looking. Her eyes widened in shock but, as they were now both caught looking at each other, neither was willing to close them again. Andy blinked, caught up in the soft intensity of Miranda's blue eyes, and bit her lip when Miranda's breath came out in a moan. She could feel Miranda's sex begin to quiver; she was close.
Andy kissed Miranda once more before she came with a silent cry, never taking her eyes from Miranda's. The older woman's climax followed seconds later.
Andy nuzzled into Miranda's neck as they caught their breath, kissing her lightly, still unable to believe that she was here, that she was with Miranda. "You are so beautiful," she whispered, and Miranda turned her head, catching Andy's lips with her own, smoothing Andy's tangled hair behind her ear.
"I -" Miranda began, then faltered. Clear brown eyes examined her own deeply, searching for meaning. Miranda was unable to look away, wondering if Andrea could see into her very soul. She wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.
"Speechless?" Andy teased gently. Miranda opened her mouth to retaliate, but Andy shook her head with a smile. "There'll be plenty of time for talking later, Miranda." Her hand slid to the small of Miranda's back, pulling her closer. They were both exhausted by now, but Andy couldn't lie here, beside Miranda, in her bed, and not touch her, not hold her. "Are you feeling less tension now?" Andy murmured into Miranda's ear.
Miranda pulled back, looking into Andy's eyes. "You little minx!"
Andy giggled. "Oh come on! You know you love m--it. You love it."
Miranda appeared to catch Andy's near-admission. "So it would seem."
Andy's smile was broad as she pulled Miranda into her, and she sighed with content as the other woman curled around her and rested her head against her shoulder. Andy kissed her forehead and tightened her hold.
******
After several moments, Miranda stirred. "I've got to go get The Book."
"What?"
"It's downstairs. Or it had better be if Roy wants to keep his job."
Andy's face burned brightly. "What if he saw that my stuff is still downstairs?"
Miranda appeared thoughtful. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Do you think--"
Miranda silenced her with a kiss. "Stop thinking. I don't want to think about this tonight."
"And tomorrow?"
Miranda looked away and sighed. "I don't want it to come," she said quietly.
"But it will..."
"Andrea. I don't know what will come of this. This is...complicated."
"You can say that again."
"I'd rather not."
Andy rolled her eyes and pulled Miranda back down to the bed. "So, no more thinking. No more talking." She slid her hand over Miranda's hip. "I have one more question though."
"Oh for heaven's sake!"
"Does this mean I've replaced Leif as your personal masseur?"
Miranda smirked and kissed her.
*The End*
Author: ellipsisoveruse and ubiquitousmixie
Rating: NC-17, baby.
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Disclaimer: Here's the thing…if we owned Miranda and Andy, do you honestly think we'd be writing? They belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox.
Summary: Miranda Priestly is a little...tense. Andy Sachs has just the remedy...
Author's Note: This fic started out as a short snippet to bribe ubiquitousmixie into cleaning her room. We may have gotten a little carried away, but hopefully you won't mind! The graphic was made by ubiquitousmixie, who is NOT a photoshop guru by any means, so don't be too harsh. Thank you, Meryl Streep, for providing brilliant motivation. Please please please comment! (apparently ubiquitousmixie is an idiot with her formatting and has no idea how to fix it!...please disregard!)
********
Andy was starving. She'd worked right through her fifteen minute lunch break. Her stomach growled and she looked at her watch, hoping she'd have a chance to run down to the cafeteria when Emily got back to the office. Shit. The run-through was in half an hour and, of course, Miranda was always fifteen minutes early. And Andy's presence was required. Andy swore under her breath. Miranda would kill her if her stomach growled during the run-through. She quickly went to the cupboard, and rummaged around in her oversized James Holt purse, hoping that she'd find something - anything - to sustain her.
Success! In one of the side pockets, she found a lollipop. Goodness knows how that got in there, but she was desperate.
Andy eyed the door to Miranda's office warily - the editor was in there, but was on the phone, and Andy knew she'd hear Miranda end the call in time to get rid of the evidence. She struggled with the wrapper for a brief few moments before finally unwrapping the candy.
Mmmm, strawberries and cream. Andy sucked hard on the candy, running her tongue over it, hoping to ingest as much of the sugar as possible before Miranda got off the phone. Ever short of time, Andy double-tasked, quickly firing off a few emails. Her brow furrowed as she puzzled over finding a diplomatic way of wording a very undiplomatic demand from Miranda to Calvin Klein, when suddenly she heard it.
Silence.
Shit.
She swiveled in her chair and came face to face with Miranda. The older woman arched her eyebrow, hand on her hip, looking at Andy over the top of her glasses. Andy had automatically reached for the lollipop, but froze momentarily at the sight of her boss, hand on the stick, before slowly withdrawing the candy from between her lips, terrified, certain to encounter Miranda's wrath.
"Oh, do go on, Andrea," Miranda drawled.
Andrea blinked, paused, and swirled her tongue around the pop. She sucked on it and slowly pulled it out of her mouth.
Miranda blinked, and opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again.
"It’s good," Andy said. "Want a lick?"
Miranda turned on her four inch Christian Louboutin heel and stalked back into her office without replying. Andy thought she heard Miranda mutter something about 'high fructose corn syrup' before the door slammed shut behind her.
Andy stared after her, her eyes focused on Miranda’s firm backside. She sucked harshly, the candy pulling off the stick. She spluttered, nearly choking. She quickly disposed of the stick in the trash can hidden discreetly under her desk, and, after a moment, what remained of the candy as well. She had no idea why Miranda hadn't killed her yet, but she wasn't game to chance it a second time.
She was thankful to have divested herself of the lollipop, for the slicing of Miranda’s voice through the silence caused her to jump. She promptly entered Miranda’s office.
Miranda licked her lips.
"Miranda, I -" Andy began, but Miranda silenced her with a look.
"If you ever pull a stunt like that again in my office, you will no longer have a tongue. Wouldn't that be a shame?"
Andy caught herself looking at Miranda's lips and pulled her eyes away quickly, hoping that the older woman hadn't noticed. "No, Miranda. I mean, yes, Miranda," she said, flustered.
"That's all."
Andy furrowed her brow, confusion etched into her features.
Miranda's withering glare caused Andy to squeak. "Something you wanted to say, Andrea? Eager to keep that pretty little tongue of yours working in my presence?" She paused. "Now where is Emily? Why isn't she back yet? I want everyone up here for the run-through. Now. Why is no one ready?" Miranda continued, standing up and pacing before finally stopping in front of the window, looking out across New York.
Andy watched Miranda square her shoulders, as if knowing she was being watched.
"You...you look tense, Miranda. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"
Miranda turned slowly, blinking into Andy's large doe eyes.
"Your job."
Andy scurried away, blushing, unable to believe what she'd just said. She was determined at least to make sure the run-through would go smoothly - as much as she could, anyway. Then maybe Miranda would just forget the disasters of earlier this afternoon. But, Andy mused, Miranda had been awfully tense lately, making a mental note to call and schedule an appointment with her masseuse.
After completing her list of errands and phoning Miranda's masseuse, facialist, and manicurist, Andy walked back into Miranda's office with her notebook clutched tightly in her hand. She watched as Miranda stretched her shoulders discreetly - obviously in discomfort, but still graceful in a way that only Miranda could be, Andy thought.
"Make me an appointment with Leif this afternoon," Miranda said suddenly, snapping Andy out of her brief reverie.
Andy paused nervously, beaming inwardly at her forethought. "Leif is in Denmark for two weeks, Miranda, but I'm sure I can find another massage therapist..."
"No. That won't do. Not at all." Miranda said, uncharacteristically petulant. Oh, she was always demanding, unreasonable, expecting perfection, but always calm - often a deadly calm, true - but petulance just wasn't her style.
Andy's mind whirled, trying to think of any other alternatives, before succumbing to the inevitable. "Well, um, Miranda - that is -" Miranda glared at her, and Andy got the message loud and clear. Get to the point. "I worked as a massage therapist during college. I'm qualified, and I still have all my equipment." Miranda arched her eyebrow, and Andy blushed. "That is, if you wanted someone familiar. Or, I could - I could try to get on to Leif and see if he'd come back early -"
Miranda shook her head, eyes wide, reminding Andy of the time she'd produced the Harry Potter book. God, she hoped she'd done something right, for once.
Andy suddenly had a sinking feeling that this could go awfully wrong. She'd seen Miranda's back artfully exposed by the finest designers - Valentino, Chanel, Versace - at a myriad of benefits and galas... and the very idea of exposing that soft, creamy skin to her touch, her warm fingers rubbing over Miranda's back, her neck, her shoulders, the scent of gardenias heady in the air -
No. She had to stop this. What was wrong with her? Thinking about Miranda like this - her boss - a woman - twice Andy's own age. Andy was on the verge of fleeing Miranda's office at a run, consequences be damned, because what could be worse than Miranda finding out what she was thinking? - when Miranda interrupted her thoughts. "That will suffice. Roy will take you to collect your equipment at eight and bring you to the townhouse, then you can return to Runway for The Book afterwards."
"Is there anything else, Miranda?"
Miranda paused, tapping her lips thoughtfully, then shook her head. "That's all."
********
The rest of Andy's day flew by. As always, the run-through was not up to Miranda's standards and Andy had been on the phone to designers all afternoon, trying to find something, anything, that would be good enough for Miranda. Nonetheless, she was still watching the clock all day, frustrated, nervous... and impatient.
Andy was in the car at ten minutes to eight, thankful that Roy was used to Miranda's tendency to be fifteen minutes early. She fidgeted incessantly, making ridiculous small talk with Roy, eternally grateful that Miranda wasn't in the car to listen to her babbling. When they arrived, Andy bolted up the stairs to her apartment, rummaging through her closet and pulling out her massage supplies. Quickly wiping the dust off everything, she threw the smaller items in her purse, everything else in a larger bag, and tucked the lightweight massage table awkwardly under her arm, relieved to hand it over when she reached the door and found Roy waiting for her.
If Andy thought she'd been nervous before, the ride to the townhouse was torturous. She hadn't done massage in over a year now, and this was Miranda Priestly for goodness sake. Used to the very best. She took a deep breath, and stepped onto the sidewalk. Roy brought the massage table in for her and Andy set it up in the living room on the ground floor. "See you at 10:30, Roy!" She waved cheerfully as the chauffer left, trying to overcome her nerves. Fake it until you make it, Andy. She took a deep breath and turned around, coming face to face with Miranda.
******
She had obviously been waiting for her. Miranda had removed her makeup and wore the same gray robe she'd worn in Paris. Andy gulped.
"Miranda, hi," Andy said. "I, um, set the massage table up in here, if that's okay? Or I could move it?" Miranda dismissed the suggestion with a flick of her hand and preceded Andy into the room.
Andy pulled some thick, soft towels out of her bag. Although they were much better than what she used for herself, they'd be nothing compared to what Miranda would have, but she didn't think Miranda would appreciate her getting massage oils all over her towels.
A sudden image invaded her mind, the older woman stepping from a steaming shower, wrapping herself in Egyptian cotton…
Andy shook her head, trying desperately to clear it. She spread a large bath sheet over the massage table and placed another folded towel near the end of the table. "I'll need you to remove your robe and lie down, Miranda," Andy said, glad that she managed to keep her voice from trembling.
She turned her back, cheeks flaming, as she rifled through her bag. She connected her iPod up to her speakers and soon relaxing music floated gently through the air, instantly calming Andy's nerves. This was familiar. It didn't matter who the woman on the table was. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Miranda had lain upon the table, covering herself with the second towel, but she didn't focus on the older woman. Instead, she went and dimmed the lights and lit a few tealight candles. "This is not some new-age zen affair, Andrea," Miranda said through gritted teeth, instantly snapping Andy back to reality. Maybe it did matter who the woman on the table was.
"Miranda, I am your masseur. We're doing this my way," Andy said forcefully, and for once, Miranda fell silent. "You just lie there and relax," Andy said, more quietly now. She took the bottle of massage oil from her bag and unscrewed the lid, inhaling the scent deeply. After this afternoon, she'd had serious qualms about bringing the gardenia, but now she was glad she had.
She poured a small amount of oil into the palm of her hand, warming it gently, looking down at her boss on the table beside her. Then finally, she took a deep breath, and ran her fingers gently down the curves of Miranda's shoulder blades.
Miranda gasped at the touch, though Andy's fingers were warm, but gradually relaxed as Andy's hands rubbed warm circles over her shoulders. Andy found the familiar routine almost like a meditation, the familiar sounds and scents bringing her to a deep state of calm and relaxation. She worked her fingers slowly down the path of Miranda's spine, gently working the knotted muscles, wondering at the amount of tension she found in the older woman's back. Andy forgot the way this woman could terrify her, forgot that she was impossible and demanding and sometimes downright mean. Here, more than ever before, Miranda was simply a woman. A woman who worked hard, a woman who worried, a woman who hurt - for surely, this tense, she'd been suffering for weeks. Not that Andy hadn't suffered, too. But right now, that didn't matter.
Andy was gentle, massaging slowly, feeling Miranda's muscles relax one by one, her skin warming beneath Andrea's fingers. Miranda sighed deeply and Andy bit her bottom lip, but didn't stop the massage. "You need to do this more often, Miranda," she whispered, knowing full well that no one ever told Miranda Priestly what to do. But Miranda simply moved her head, in what Andy assumed was a nod. Emboldened, Andy continued, "You're carrying a lot of tension in your shoulders. I know this hurts, but it will hurt less if we do it regularly - at least once a week".
"You think so, do you?" Miranda asked, her voice no louder than a whisper.
"I know so. You would be so much more at ease if you let out tension every once in a while." Andy worked the pads of her thumbs into Miranda’s shoulders.
Miranda groaned. "You sound so certain about what you think I need."
Andy swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She inhaled the heady scent of gardenia and continued. "I know what you need, Miranda. I can feel it in your body."
Andy's hands slid lower down Miranda's back, massaging her lumbar area deeply. Miranda whimpered softly and Andy's fingers froze, the sound affecting her more than she could have imagined. She could hear her pulse throbbing, the rich scent of the oil making her feel lightheaded.
"Don't stop." Miranda growled, and Andy wondered if Miranda's face was as flushed as hers. It certainly sounded like it. But, ever obedient, Andy took a deep breath and continued the massage.
"I won't. Your body would hate me if I stopped," Andy replied, her eyes widening at the audacity of her words.
"Why is that?" Miranda asked, her voice husky.
"You should never stop in the middle of a massage. You're still holding onto too much tension. You won't really feel better until you really let it all go." As she spoke, her hands worked lower, smoothing against the edge of the towel that was folded primly over Miranda's backside. As the cloth grazed her fingers, the force of her desire to slip beneath it shocked her, causing her to press hard into Miranda's lower back.
A moan escaped Miranda's lips.
"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"No. My lower back needs more attention."
"Oh." Andy placed her hands above the towel and began to knead flesh with her fingers. "Here?"
"Lower."
Andy slipped her hands just beneath the towel, massaging the gentle rise of Miranda's backside, wondering what on earth she was doing. What on earth Miranda was thinking. It must be the scent of the gardenias, or blood rushing to Miranda's head - Andy paused abruptly in her train of thought. What if it really was something medical? Had Miranda had any water to drink? She pulled her hands out from beneath the towel as if they'd been burned, wiping them on a spare towel beside her bag. She pulled out a bottle of Evian out of her bag - no longer really chilled, but still cool.
"What are you doing, Andrea?" Miranda asked, dangerously.
"Miranda, you need to sit up. You need to drink -"
"I need no such thing. What are you suggesting?"
"Miranda," Andy said desperately. "I know you're my boss, but in here, I'm the expert. I'm the masseur. A massage releases toxins, and you need to drink some water. You will -" she faltered, but the idea of being responsible for Miranda Priestly passing out was too terrifying to contemplate. "Sit up, Miranda."
Miranda lifted herself languorously into a sitting position, graceful movements reminiscent of a large cat. All thoughts of winning the argument fled from Andy's mind as she saw the challenging look in Miranda's eyes, her back slightly arched, daring Andy to look at her body, the towel having fallen to the floor, a mere scrap of lace at her hips her only tribute to modesty. Andy tried to look at the ceiling as she handed the water to Miranda.
Andy chewed on her lower lip, staring so hard at the wall that she wondered if she'd harbored dormant telekinetic powers and might peel the paint from the walls with the force of her gaze. Behind her, she could hear Miranda swallow a mouthful of water before screwing on the cap.
"All-" Andrea cleared her throat. "All set?"
"Yes."
She heard the bottle set on the floor, followed by an audible wince. Abandoning her sense of propriety at Miranda's nudity, she spun around, her eyes wide. "Are you okay?"
Miranda nose scrunched in what appeared to be discomfort. "Lower back."
"Where, exactly?"
Miranda met Andrea's eyes, her gaze steady and dark, before she shifted her eyes to her side, where her hand was pressed to her back. "Here."
"Where I was just before I gave you water?"
"Yes," Miranda drawled. She arched her back as if hoping to diffuse some of the tension herself, forcing her chest to rise higher. Andrea glanced quickly and, upon settling her eyes on the swell of Miranda's ivory breasts and taut pink nipples, she looked away. "Only this time," Miranda continued, "I want it harder."
Miranda lay back down on the table, and Andy, flushing, replaced the towel, then resuming her massage. She worked the muscles in Miranda's back for another twenty minutes until they all felt looser, then, applying some more of the oil to her hands, proceeded more gently, using long, soft strokes - relaxation techniques, rather than remedial ones. Miranda hummed in pleasure and Andy grinned.
Half an hour later, Andy wiped her hands and Miranda's back on the spare towel. "Feeling better now?"
"Mm-hmm," Miranda said, not moving.
"Is - is there anything else you need, Miranda?"
Miranda lifted her head, propping it up on her hand, covering her breasts with her other arm, but the sight took Andy's breath away nonetheless. "Would you give me what I need, Andrea?" she asked, eyes smoldering.
Andy paused, never removing her eyes from Miranda's. "Of course. You--that is--you're my boss. It's my job to give you what you need. Anything you need."
Disappointment flashed across Miranda's face. "Your boss."
"Well....I mean...you are. My boss, that is."
"That fact is immaterial to what I'm asking you."
"Miranda, what are you asking me?" She held her breath.
Miranda rolled her eyes and sat up, leaving the towel on the massage table. She swung her legs over the edge of the table. "That's all."
Andrea knit her brows. "No. I don't think it is."
Miranda raised her eyebrows, swallowing hard as Andy stepped closer.
Andy raised her hand to Miranda's cheek in the briefest of caresses. "Tell me what you want, Miranda." Hoping she'd read Miranda correctly. Hoping she'd live long enough to collect The Book. Knowing that she'd never have an opportunity like this again.
Miranda's eyes widened, and now Andy knew. Miranda drew a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she exhaled. "Andrea," she said hoarsely, but was silenced as Andy leaned in and kissed her softly, one arm sliding around Miranda's waist when she felt no resistance, drawing them closer. Just as Miranda had recovered enough to respond, Andy broke the kiss as gently as she'd begun it, drawing a whimper from Miranda's lips, pulling back just enough to look into Miranda's eyes.
"Is this what you want, Miranda?" she breathed.
Miranda exhaled sharply through her nose, breath hot against Andy's face. Andy held her breath, waiting for an answer.
The older woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but promptly closed her lips around Andy's plump bottom one, sucking and dragging her teeth against it.
Andy whimpered, her fingers clutching at the curve of Miranda's waist. Miranda released Andy's lip, giving them both a moment to breathe before she slanted her mouth over Andy's, stroking her tongue harshly against her own.
Unable to do anything else, Andy kissed back, stepping closer to her boss. Miranda's legs parted, welcoming the press of her body against her own. To Andy's surprise, one of Miranda's legs curled around Andy's hips, drawing her tight against her. Andy could almost feel Miranda's heat burning through lace and clothes. She moaned.
Miranda pulled away from the kiss, fastening her lips to Andy's throat, teeth scraping and tongue lapping in exquisite intensity that left Andy dizzy with want.
"Unh...aahh...Mir--andaahhh...we have to stop."
Miranda ignored her, sucking at the nape of her neck.
Andrea pulled back. "We have to stop. I...I need to get The Book."
"Fuck The Book."
Miranda slid off the massage table and spun Andy around, pinning her against the table, kissing her jaw line urgently. Suddenly she bent slightly, grabbing at Andy's lower thighs, and Andy gasped as Miranda lifted her on to the table, pushing her down into a reclining position. Miranda climbed on to the table, straddling one of Andy's legs, a predatory look in her eyes. Andy fell back, her head resting in the hollow where Miranda's had only a few minutes earlier. This suited Miranda very well indeed, giving her full access to that long, innocent neck, begging for her touch.
And touch she did, Andy moaning and whimpering in response. Andy reached up to undo the buttons of her shirt, but Miranda slapped her fingers away. "Mine," she growled, reaching down to undo the buttons, divesting Andy of the garment moments later.
Andy sucked in a breath as Miranda's mouth closed around one lace-encased nipple. She leaned her head back into the table, closing her eyes as Miranda's tongue assaulted her through her bra. She let out a moan.
"All mine," Miranda husked, drawing Andy's taut nipple to an even harder peak with her teeth.
"Oh God," Andy whimpered, tangling her fingers in Miranda's silver hair. She was surprised by how soft it was. She scraped her nails against Miranda's scalp, arching her back as Miranda's fingers deftly removed Andy's bra.
But passion could not completely erase remembrances of her obligations, and Andy painstakingly asked, "What....oooh...what about Roy?"
Miranda looked up. "What about him?" she hissed, biting Andy's breast. "Would you rather be with Roy right now?" As she spat out the name of her driver, Miranda cupped her hand against Andy's sex, digging the heel of her palm into Andy's clit.
Andy cried out, arching hard into the contact. "Just - he's picking me up," she panted.
"For God's sake, Andrea," Miranda grumbled. She climbed off the table and sauntered to the other side of the room, obviously well aware of the impact the view was having on Andy, who whimpered. Miranda arched her eyebrow, "You wanted me to get up."
"Never again," Andy said without thinking, her voice husky, eliciting a grin from Miranda. Looking back over her shoulder at her assistant lying on the table, submissive, wanting, waiting for her, she had to suppress a whimper of her own.
She made a quick phone call to Roy, ending with a forceful "No" and a "That's all". Andy knew that that should really not be a turn-on, but God help her, it was. Moments later, Miranda stood beside the table, leaning down and kissing Andy hungrily, breaking the kiss far too soon for Andy's liking. "Now that you've -" Miranda began, pausing to drag her teeth and her tongue across Andy's collarbone, "- interrupted the mood -" she cupped Andy's breast, twisting her nipple until Andy gasped, "- why don't we take this -" her mouth now teasing the sensitive skin behind Andy's ear, while Andy moaned and arched beneath her, "- somewhere -" biting Andy's earlobe "- with a bed?"
It was not a question, but Andy nodded, moaning Miranda's name as the older woman's mouth discovered sensitive places. She pulled Miranda's head down to hers for a long, deep kiss, before sitting up. Never had one of Miranda's 'requests' been so enticing, and oh, what she could do to this woman in a bed...
Miranda stepped between her legs, straddling Andy's thigh, crying out as Andy ground against her. "How do you do this to me?" Miranda gasped, and Andy chuckled.
Then Miranda broke away suddenly and fled the room, leaving Andy bereft, hurt and confused. She waited, hoping that Miranda would return, knowing that the older woman would definitely not appreciate her exploring her house, even under the circumstances.
******
What felt like an eternity later, her blackberry vibrated, signaling an incoming message.
"For God's sake, Andrea, do not keep me waiting. Third floor, second on the right."
Oh. Andy felt a flush creep to her cheeks. Miranda hadn't run away. Miranda was waiting for her in her bedroom. The mere thought of Miranda's bedroom drew a light, breathy moan from Andy, and she blew out the candles and headed up the stairs as quickly as she could.
Andy entered Miranda's room, which was dark save for a lamp beside a spacious bed. She frowned upon noting that the bed was empty.
"Miranda?" She walked into the room, glancing around for any sign of her boss. Behind her, the door clicked as it shut. She spun on her heels, her eyes widening as she came face to face with a completely naked Miranda Priestly. She had divested herself of the black lace and stood, entirely unabashed, with her hands on her waist.
"I was beginning to think I'd be continuing this on my own."
The thought of Miranda touching herself made Andy's mouth go dry. "Maybe some other time. Assuming I get to watch, that is."
"You'd like that," Miranda began, stalking towards Andy with a predatory gleam in her eyes, "wouldn't you?" Her warm fingers reached to unfasten the button of Andy's pants. "You like to watch me."
"Y--yes," Andy hissed, her knees hitting the back of the bed. Miranda hooked her fingers into her pants and underwear, drawing them down at a leisurely pace. She bit her lip as her boss knelt before her, guiding her legs out of her clothes.
"You fuck me with your eyes every day, don't you?"
"Uunh --yes." Andrea gasped as Miranda pushed her back against the bed before climbing over her, straddling her hips.
"Well," Miranda began, grinding her hips down over Andy's, "let's see what that smart little mouth and those quick fingers are made of, shall we?"
Andy whimpered and slid her hands along Miranda's thighs. Before she could reach her destination, Miranda grabbed her hands and held them above the assistant's head.
"No. Not yet. We do this my way."
Andy cried out, bucking against Miranda's restraint, and Miranda moaned softly under her breath as Andy's breasts brushed against her own. This was going to be harder than she'd expected.
"You have no idea," Miranda murmured as her lips placed feather-light kisses along Andy’s jaw, "how long I've wanted this."
Andy closed her eyes and groaned. "I think I may have an idea."
Miranda’s teeth nipped at her earlobe before her tongue darted along the sensitive skin behind it. Her hips swiveled against Andy’s abdomen; Andy could feel Miranda’s hot wetness coating her flesh. "Oh - please."
Miranda bit the nape of her neck. "Please what?" She bit the swell of her breast.
"I-I need-oooh."
Miranda’s tongue brushed lightly against Andy’s nipple, swirling faintly around it, careful not to give Andy what she so desperately needed.
“Oh no," Miranda breathed into Andy's ear. "No, Andrea, after what you've put me through, you're going to have to wait longer than that. Sauntering around the office in those Chanel boots and sheer Versace blouses. And that stunt with the candy today." Miranda rolled her eyes heavenward. "I couldn't concentrate at the run-through, Andrea."
"N-no?" Andy squeaked, as Miranda's hot tongue traced the shell of her ear.
"Is that what you wanted, Andrea? To drive me to distraction?" Andy grinned, and Miranda sniffed in mock outrage. Then, turning serious, "is this what you want? I don't want - I mean -"
"You want to know what I want?" Andy asked innocently, looking down at Miranda's naked body straddling her own. Miranda paled. But Andy's eyes darkened and her tone dropped lower. "I want to make you come so hard that you scream my name, and then, before you can catch your breath, I'm going to start all over again, but slowly, so slowly, until you're begging for it." Miranda whimpered, grinding involuntarily against Andy's hip. "Do you want to find out what my smart little mouth can really do, Miranda?"
Miranda's eyes widened, gasping at the vivid images that flooded her mind. This gave Andy the opportunity she needed, and she wrested her wrists from Miranda's grip, and pulled the older woman's face to hers, kissing her roughly, thrusting her tongue into Miranda's mouth. Not breaking the kiss, she trailed her hand down Miranda's body, grazing her breast, along her stomach and over her hip, breath catching as she heard Miranda moan, before finally sliding her fingers lower.
Miranda cried out at the first brush of Andy's fingers. "Oh, you're so ready, aren't you? You want this so badly, you've wanted it forever." Miranda nodded, gasping for breath, eyes firmly closed. "Tell me. Tell me what you want, Miranda," Andy breathed.
Miranda shuddered. "Haven't we already established what I want?" She leaned forward, sucking harshly on Andrea's shoulder.
Andy groaned, bucking her hips in response to Miranda's fast, devilish mouth. "I want you to say it," Andy said, tickling her fingers along the length of Miranda's very wet slit. "Tell me, Miranda," she said, her voice low and silky, her fingers circling widely around her clit and positioning at Miranda's opening.
"I want you," Miranda said, straightening her back and cupping Andy's breasts with her hands, "to fuck me." As she spat out her desire, she shifted her hips down, impaling herself on Andy's long, slim fingers.
Dizziness swept over Andy's body as she attempted to process the situation. Miranda Priestly was riding her fingers. Hard. Like her life would end if she didn't get off by Andrea's touch. She'd never seen Miranda like this before, so uninhibited, so wanton and exposed. As Miranda rolled her hips around her hand, she felt a slight pang of discomfort in her wrist. It didn't matter. Miranda could fuck her hand off for all she cared, as long as she got to give the older woman exactly what she so desperately needed.
"Is this good, Miranda?"
Miranda pinched at Andy's nipples, rocking harder against her. "M--more--"
Andrea slid in a third finger, holding her breath as a look of exquisite pleasure wrought the editor's face. Miranda tossed her head back, moaning loudly. Andy could feel Miranda's thighs tensing around her and, desperate for more, for anything, she leaned up and, wrapping an arm around Miranda's waist to keep her in place, she repositioned them so that Miranda was astride her lap. Miranda wrapped her arms around Andy's neck, their breasts pressed flush together.
"Come for me, Miranda," Andy whispered against Miranda's mouth.
Miranda tried to resist, hating the idea of doing what she was told, but Andy's fingers were thrusting between her thighs and her tongue was in her mouth, battling for control, thrusting in time with her fingers, and oh God, what had she said about that smart little mouth? The sensations were overwhelming; her control shattered, eyes flying shut, arching her back and digging her fingers into Andy's shoulders, crying out as her muscles clenched tightly around her assistant's dexterous fingers.
******
Andy held Miranda tightly as she came down from her climax, running her fingers through Miranda's hair, unruly now, and dampened with sweat. She kissed along Miranda's jaw, whispering in her ear, words that Miranda couldn't begin to comprehend in her current state.
Miranda was gasping for air, heart pounding; she'd had good sex before, but never anything like this. Nothing - nothing like this.
Andy slid her fingers from between Miranda's thighs and brought them up to cup her breast, gently rolling Miranda over onto the bed. Miranda barely noticed, her eyes still closed, heart still racing.
Andy's fingers, slick with Miranda's come, twisted Miranda's nipple roughly, and when she gasped, Andy bent her head down, taking it in her mouth, sucking and nipping as Miranda squirmed beneath her. Miranda moaned deeply, uncharacteristically uninhibited, but Andy pulled away. "Oh no, Miranda. This time, we take it slow. This time, you'll have to beg me for it until you can't stand it anymore. Will you beg me, Miranda?"
"I don't beg," Miranda responded. Andy grinned at the complete lack of conviction in the older woman's voice.
"I think you do," Andy said, repositioning herself so that she was on all fours above her -- close, but not touching. "I think you'll beg for me." She teased her tongue lightly along Miranda's collarbone, dragging slowly down her sternum, circling her belly button.
Miranda's fists clenched the bed sheets, her body writhing in unbridled need.
"Beg me, Miranda," Andy whispered as she knelt between Miranda's thighs. She blew her breath against Miranda's legs, teasing around the spot where she and Miranda both needed her to be.
"Please," Miranda whimpered, looking down at Andy, who licked her lips. "P--please."
"Please what, Miranda? What do you need?" Andy's tongue flicked out gently against Miranda's slit. Her hips bucked.
"Fuck me. Andrea--please..."
"Do you want my fingers, Miranda?" Andy questioned, teasing her index finger between Miranda's slick folds, grazing her sensitive clit. Miranda cried out. "Or do you want my tongue?" Parting her, Andy's tongue circled her clit.
"Yes! God...please, yes!"
"Do you want me to eat you out, Miranda? Do you want me to taste you...to drink you?"
Miranda's response was inaudible as a thick moan passed her lips. She closed her eyes and dropped her head against the mattress. Andy smirked. With the flat of her tongue, she licked the length of Miranda's sex from her entrance to her clit, easing up with pressure once she reached the tiny nub. She'd never gone down on another woman before, but as she tasted Miranda's bitter sweetness, she knew she was hooked.
She nipped her teeth against Miranda's clit. Miranda screamed.
"You like it rough, don't you?"
"Y- yes," Miranda panted.
"But rough doesn't mean we can't take it slowly." Andy sat up, and Miranda whimpered at the loss of contact. Once again on all fours above Miranda, Andy nipped her sharply behind the ear. "Do you want to know what you taste like, Miranda?" she breathed.
"Oh - oh - yes."
"Yes what?"
"P- please, Andrea -"
Andy brought her lips crashing down firmly on Miranda's, driving her tongue into her mouth without waiting for permission. Miranda let out a muffled moan at the bitter taste she encountered; at the way this woman was unraveling her so completely. Miranda's hands tangled in Andy's hair, tugging at it roughly when Andy threatened to move away, then ran down Andy's neck to her shoulders, gripping tightly.
Andy reached down and cupped Miranda's breast, swallowing another moan as she did so. She twisted Miranda's nipple sharply, and Miranda cried out, arching her back and digging her fingers into Andy's shoulders. Miranda whimpered as she saw three matching lines of red begin to well on Andy's smooth back and Andy pulled away.
"Well, well," Andy grinned. "Kitty likes to scratch." She paused. "I think you'll have to pay for that, Miranda. Do you want to pay for it?"
"Oh, yes!" Miranda sobbed. "Anything - anything. Just, oh God, touch me. Please, Andrea, touch me?"
Andy's breath hissed at the sight of the older woman beneath her, sobbing, begging, so desperate. She bent down and sucked sharply at the woman's hip. Miranda bucked against her, and Andy bit down hard, eliciting another cry of pleasure from her lover. "Sssh. Slowly, Miranda." She soothed with her voice and her lips, tracing her tongue gently over the bite mark, nipping when it took her fancy, wanting to taste this woman, to break her, to build her again from her pieces.
Andy slid back up the bed, turning her attention to Miranda's neck, alternating between sucking and laving the soft skin with her tongue. Idly she wondered if Miranda owned a turtleneck - she'd need it tomorrow - but Andy didn't care. Miranda tasted so good - expensive perfume, the tang of sweat, and something else purely Miranda.
Miranda was breathing rapidly, writhing against Andy's body, too far gone to regain control, whimpering, moaning, grinding her hips against Andy's leg, but Andy pulled away. "Not yet." Miranda cried out desperately as Andy's head sank to her breasts, taking each nipple into her mouth in turn, swirling her tongue around it, scraping her teeth over the sensitive skin, fingers running down Miranda's thigh, so close, but so far from where she needed them.
"An- please, please, I can't, I can't-" Miranda begged, nearly hyperventilating. Andy sat back, taking in the sight before her. Miranda was a mess - her hair was everywhere, her eyes scrunched closed, face flushed, muscles tense, covered in a light sheen of sweat.
"Are you ready?"
"Oh, yes, oh God yes."
"You look ready," Andy observed with a grin. "Spread your legs for me, Miranda." Almost sobbing, Miranda complied. Andy suppressed a whimper at the sight of her boss - of Miranda Priestly - so desperate, so exposed, willing to do anything just for Andy's touch.
Andy knelt between Miranda's thighs and waited. After a moment, Miranda lifted her head, glaring at Andy. "What the hell are you waiting for, Andrea?" she growled. Andy grinned, glad to have her Miranda back, and bent down to give her what she wanted so badly.
With a hard, broad sweep of her tongue, Andy licked Miranda. The older woman cried out, thrusting her hips in her attempt to get closer to Andrea's mouth. Andy curled her arms around Miranda's thighs, pinning her hips to the bed, and used the fingers of her left hand to spread Miranda wide open.
She blew teasingly once more, her warm breath causing a violent shudder to jolt through Miranda's body.
"For Christ's sake, Andrea, eat me or I'll--"
Before Miranda could finish her threat, Andrea's tongue began to massage against her clit with fervor. Miranda's fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her and pulling with each lick.
Andy drew Miranda's clit into her mouth and sucked, rolling her tongue around the sensitive bud, and then it happened.
For the second time, she made Miranda Priestly come.
It was as though the earlier orgasm had never happened. This climax was harder, deeper -- Miranda's entire body shook. Andy leaned back on her heels, her eyes wide as she watched the look of ecstasy wash over Miranda's face. A harsh throb pounded between her legs. She could feel her own arousal coating her thighs, but she ignored her own need. This was about Miranda. She slid her fingers inside once more, curling them gently to stroke against her, and flicked her tongue once more against her clit.
Miranda came again.
After several moments, the older woman released her grip on Andy's hair and pushed her away, faintly mumbling that it was too much. Andy complied, crawling up over Miranda's body and settling against her side, grinning widely as she watched her boss settle into a pleasant afterglow.
"I can hear you smiling," Miranda said, her eyes closed. She drew in a deep breath.
Andy smiled wider.
"You're quite pleased with yourself, aren't you?"
"Yep."
Miranda opened her eyes and looked at Andy. "You should be." And, to Andy's surprise, pinned her against the mattress as she hovered over her. "Do you know how often people successfully turn the tables on me, Andrea?"
"Um, not often?"
"Indeed. And do you know how often I've had more than one orgasm in the span of an hour?"
Andy scrunched her face into a confused pout. She most definitely did not want to know about other people making her come.
"Never."
Andy beamed and Miranda rolled her eyes. "You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?"
"Yep. Now will you shut up and kiss me?"
To Andy's complete amazement, Miranda obliged.
The kiss was long and languorous, Miranda still fighting against the hormones flooding her body, urging her to relax, but she refused to let herself succumb until she'd given as good as she'd received.
Andy didn't mind. She was overwhelmed by the taste and feel of Miranda's mouth and tongue against her own, the gentle press of her weight above her, the brushes of Miranda's thigh against her leg, their breasts pressing together, Miranda's hand caressing her cheek. Her breathing was shallow, desire pooling between her thighs, struggling just to enjoy each moment - not to rush, because who knew what the morning would bring? No, she would savor this. Savor Miranda.
Andy cupped her hands behind Miranda's head, drawing her more deeply into the kiss, running her fingers through Miranda's hair, still damp with sweat, and down to Miranda's back, tracing lazy circles along it with her fingernails. Miranda purred against Andy's mouth, then pulled back. "This is your turn, Andrea," she said reprovingly.
"Yes, Miranda. Whatever you say, Miranda." Andy replied innocently. Miranda quirked her eyebrow, then suddenly laughed, finally resting her head against Andy's shoulder.
"You really are incorrigible."
"Yup." Andy grinned.
"We'll see about that." Miranda reached over to her bedside table, pulling something out of the top drawer. Before Andy could make out what it was, Miranda had grabbed both of her wrists firmly and pulled them up to the headboard. When Andy heard the whisper of silk as it slid over her skin, she swallowed. Perhaps she shouldn't have teased the Devil...
Miranda, straddling Andy's hips once more, sat back against her after she'd fastened the knot. Andy tugged; the binds weren’t loose enough that she could pull free. She was now completely at Miranda's disposal. Her body quivered.
"Are you nervous, Andrea?"
"Should I be?"
"You're mine. I can do anything at all that I want with you," Miranda said, teasing her fingertips along Andy's stomach.
Andy licked her lips, watching as Miranda walked her fingers up the ladder of her ribs before circling the mounds of her breasts. "Should, uh, I have a safe word or something?"
Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Do you feel unsafe?"
"I'd trust you with my life, Miranda."
Shock lingered over Miranda's face before softening. "Is that so?"
Andy nodded and bit her lip, wondering how far she should tread before overstepping her bounds. "This...this isn't just about, you know, sex. I...trust you. Very much."
Miranda looked away. "I... that's good. I'm glad. I wouldn't do anything to compromise you, Andrea."
And then, despite Harry Potter books and impossible tasks, Andy knew that Miranda meant it. Before she could fish for any other truths, Miranda leaned down and placed a soft, silencing kiss on her lips. "Let's save that conversation for later, shall we?" Andy nodded, and Miranda continued, "I've got you tied up naked on my bed. Perhaps we can find more interesting things to do with my mouth than chit chat?"
Andy whimpered and squirmed beneath Miranda. "Fuck. Oh...please, Miranda..."
"What would you like me to do?" Miranda sat up and began to slowly rock her hips against Andy, wetting her small tuft of hair with Miranda's arousal. "What do you fantasize about all day when you're sitting at your desk?"
"You," Andy gulped, her eyes widening as Miranda's fingers slid down her own stomach and then up Miranda's thighs.
"Mmm...yes," Miranda said, sliding her hands across her lower abdomen. "I can tell. I was right in what I said earlier, wasn't I?"
Andy scrunched her forehead in confusion, licking her lips as the older woman dropped one of her hands between her legs.
"You like to watch me." Miranda's knuckled brushed against Andy's sex as she fucked herself.
"Holy Christ, yes," Andy gasped, the image of Miranda Priestly masturbating burning into her retinas. She struggled slightly, yearning to free her arms and touch Miranda herself, and she whimpered at her captivity. She arched her hips as Miranda's hand brushed against her own aching clit once again. "Miranda..."
The sound of Andy whimpering her name sent a new rush of desire coursing through Miranda's veins. Gasping, she pumped her fingers faster, brushing against Andy's clit with each down-stroke. Andy writhed beneath her, pulling against her restraints, but Hermes' scarves wouldn't tear, and Miranda was evidently as good at tying knots as she was at everything else. Andy began to shudder at the contact - close, so close already.
Without warning, Miranda withdrew her fingers, sliding two of them deeply inside Andy, who cried out sharply, bucking against Miranda's hand. Her eyes were screwed closed, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the building tension evident on her face. As she began to whimper, Miranda withdrew her fingers and slid one into her mouth, smirking at Andy's wide-eyed reaction.
"We taste good together." Andy nodded dumbly, until Miranda raised her hand to her Andy's lips, offering. Desperate for some control, Andy drew Miranda's finger into her mouth, sucking on it fervently, rolling her tongue over it, savoring their mingled juices.
"Oh, God, Miranda - please..."
"Now who's begging?" smirked Miranda as she repositioned her fingers at Andy's opening.
"Ppplease," Andy moaned, her eyes rolling back into her head as Miranda's fingers slid slowly inside of her. She was vaguely aware of her thighs parting of their own accord, opening herself completely to Miranda. She curled her leg around Miranda's hip, arching her back in her attempt to draw Miranda deeper within her.
"Patience, my dear. I want to enjoy this." Slowly, achingly, the fingers drew out, slipping with ease given the generous lubrication that flowed from Andy's depths. Miranda's index finger circled the sensitive entrance before plunging back in just as languorously.
Andy shifted her hips, groaning loudly. She opened her eyes, watching as a look of exquisite pleasure and fascination flushed over Miranda's features. As they made eye contact, Miranda leaned forward and placed a single, soft kiss on each of Andy's breasts. She kissed her way down Andy's abdomen as a second, a third, and a fourth finger slipped inside.
A pleasant burn settled within Andy's loins and she bit harshly on her lip as Miranda began to thrust a little faster.
"Close your eyes," Miranda commanded, removing her hand.
Andy whimpered, bereft, but in this moment, she would walk over burning coals if Miranda asked her to, so she closed her eyes obediently. She inhaled deeply, a combination of her arousal and the heady aroma that filled the room: gardenias and sex. Andy had never smelled anything more intoxicating.
Andy felt the mattress shift around her, and Miranda's hot breath fell suddenly upon her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Can I trust you, Andrea, or do I need another scarf?"
Andy gasped. "Y-you can trust me."
"Hmm," Miranda paused. "I believe I can. But Hermes does suit you rather well."
Andy heard a drawer slide open and closed, then shivered as Miranda caressed her stomach with the cool silk, before drawing the scarf up to Andy's eyes.
"Lift your head for me," Miranda said tenderly, reaching around to tie the scarf, then placing a gentle kiss upon Andy's temple. "Is that good?" Andy nodded, feeling the mattress move again, all senses heightened, straining to hear any sound that would betray Miranda's intentions.
Andy felt the slightest of brushes against the inside of her thigh - or was it her imagination? No, there it was again, soft and fine, not skin, but what - oh God.
Oh God.
Miranda's hair.
Andy's suspicions were confirmed as Miranda pinned her hips against the mattress, running her tongue up the inside of Andy's thigh.
"Oooh god, Miranda... you're killing...unh... me..."
Miranda responded by nipping at Andy’s thigh. "Now you know how I feel every day."
Andy shuddered, her toes curling as Miranda’s tongue sucked at the juncture where thigh met hip. She teased both sides before bestowing the same attention to her labia.
Raw, animalistic noises parted her mouth, sounding foreign and distant as arousal carried her to heights she had never before reached. She had never been so turned on and had certainly never been made love to like she was the most desirable woman in existence. She felt like a goddess. She felt like the passion and overwhelming connection she was sharing with her boss would shatter her from the inside out.
If Miranda had been hesitant about going down on Andy, she certainly couldn't tell by the way the older woman carefully parted her and began to lick like she was a decadent dessert. This, combined with the feather soft caressing of Miranda’s fingers against her legs and her hair tickling her thighs, drove her senses wild.
To Andy’s delight and dismay, she lasted only moments. As Miranda swept her tongue over and around her clit, Andy’s entire body tensed, her arms pulling harshly against her bindings, and she came with a hoarse cry of Miranda’s name.
******
"Miranda, please," Andy moaned. "Let me go."
"Let you go?" Miranda asked tonelessly.
"Oh - not go go! But can you untie me?"
"Very well," Miranda muttered, untying the scarf around Andy's eyes. But she wouldn't make eye contact, and Andy realised that Miranda was truly afraid that Andy would just leave.
"Hey. Miranda? Look at me." Miranda silently and studiously focused on the knot at Andy's wrists as if she hadn't heard a thing. Finally Andy's wrists were free and Miranda moved quickly to slide off the bed. But Andy had always been well attuned to Miranda, and caught her before she could, one hand on Miranda's hip, the other reaching up to caress her cheek. Miranda's eyes fluttered closed. "Miranda? Miranda, I'm not going anywhere." Miranda's eyes stayed closed, but Andy fancied that her breathing had evened out, that she turned her head into the caress ever-so-slightly. "Look at me, Miranda," she asked, voice gentle. Miranda's eyes opened slowly, deep blue meeting clear brown. "I'm not going anywhere," Andy repeated, and a hint of a smile flickered over Miranda's face as Andy drew her in for a deep, slow kiss, imbued with all the words she wasn't sure she could say.
Andy winced a little as she glanced at her wrists, noting the red marks that would undoubtedly still be visible for the next few days. Miranda examined them as well and frowned.
"I'm so--"
"No," Andy said, covering Miranda's mouth with her hand. "No apologies. It's kinda kinky. I like it."
Miranda rolled her eyes and, when Andy did not remove her hand, began to lick her fingers. Andy giggled, slipped her hand behind Miranda's neck, and pulled her in for another kiss. This one was considerably more relaxed and as they settled against the bed, tangled in each other, Andy let out a sigh.
"Everything," Miranda began, unable to keep her lips parted from Andy's for longer than a few moments, "all right?"
Andy smiled into the kisses. "Better...than...all right."
Miranda's tongue slowly rolled around Andy's, her arms tightly wound around the younger woman's waist, her leg nestled firmly between Andy's. As they kissed, taking the time to suck and nip on each other's lips, they began to move, their hips gyrating languidly together.
It was amazing that, with a ridiculous number of orgasms between them, that they still had the stamina and desire to seek more. This, Andy noted, was different. It was less frenzied, less raw and needy. It was....intimate.
Sweat slicked their bodies as their sexes rubbed against smooth thighs. Miranda's hand dropped to Andy's backside, pulling her closer for further contact, without breaking the kiss. Andy mimicked the gesture and within moments they were grinding against each other furiously as if it were the only thing that mattered.
Their foreheads pressed together, hot breaths intermingling between their faces. Andy opened her eyes and stared into Miranda's, who apparently hadn't intended to get caught looking. Her eyes widened in shock but, as they were now both caught looking at each other, neither was willing to close them again. Andy blinked, caught up in the soft intensity of Miranda's blue eyes, and bit her lip when Miranda's breath came out in a moan. She could feel Miranda's sex begin to quiver; she was close.
Andy kissed Miranda once more before she came with a silent cry, never taking her eyes from Miranda's. The older woman's climax followed seconds later.
Andy nuzzled into Miranda's neck as they caught their breath, kissing her lightly, still unable to believe that she was here, that she was with Miranda. "You are so beautiful," she whispered, and Miranda turned her head, catching Andy's lips with her own, smoothing Andy's tangled hair behind her ear.
"I -" Miranda began, then faltered. Clear brown eyes examined her own deeply, searching for meaning. Miranda was unable to look away, wondering if Andrea could see into her very soul. She wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.
"Speechless?" Andy teased gently. Miranda opened her mouth to retaliate, but Andy shook her head with a smile. "There'll be plenty of time for talking later, Miranda." Her hand slid to the small of Miranda's back, pulling her closer. They were both exhausted by now, but Andy couldn't lie here, beside Miranda, in her bed, and not touch her, not hold her. "Are you feeling less tension now?" Andy murmured into Miranda's ear.
Miranda pulled back, looking into Andy's eyes. "You little minx!"
Andy giggled. "Oh come on! You know you love m--it. You love it."
Miranda appeared to catch Andy's near-admission. "So it would seem."
Andy's smile was broad as she pulled Miranda into her, and she sighed with content as the other woman curled around her and rested her head against her shoulder. Andy kissed her forehead and tightened her hold.
******
After several moments, Miranda stirred. "I've got to go get The Book."
"What?"
"It's downstairs. Or it had better be if Roy wants to keep his job."
Andy's face burned brightly. "What if he saw that my stuff is still downstairs?"
Miranda appeared thoughtful. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Do you think--"
Miranda silenced her with a kiss. "Stop thinking. I don't want to think about this tonight."
"And tomorrow?"
Miranda looked away and sighed. "I don't want it to come," she said quietly.
"But it will..."
"Andrea. I don't know what will come of this. This is...complicated."
"You can say that again."
"I'd rather not."
Andy rolled her eyes and pulled Miranda back down to the bed. "So, no more thinking. No more talking." She slid her hand over Miranda's hip. "I have one more question though."
"Oh for heaven's sake!"
"Does this mean I've replaced Leif as your personal masseur?"
Miranda smirked and kissed her.
*The End*