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"Andrea. Coffee."
Miranda's voice sliced through the air, cutting through the frantic murmurs of the staff as the ran around to secure this month's spread, and pulling Andy's attention away from the stack of manuscripts she had been checking—her ears immediately picking up on the familiar, irritated tone in her boss' voice. It was the kind of tone that usually indicated Miranda's oncoming migraine in dealing with the day's incompetence.
Andy immediately shot out of her chair, grabbing her bag and scurrying to the elevator and into the nearest Starbucks, flipping open her phone to order the coffee in advance. Fifteen minutes later, she was back, entering the office with the precisely brewed and center-of-the-sun hot coffee and found Miranda frowning deeply; the older woman was rubbing her temples.
Andy didn't waste any time, moving to set the Starbucks on the desk before rounding to her desk and grabbing two tablets of aspirin, then making her way to the kitchen and making a plate of those salty crackers Miranda liked to nibble on when she got migraines.
She entered the office again, setting them down next to the coffee. Miranda's gaze flicked up from the documents, her expression losing a bit of tension as she took sight of the aspirin and crackers.
"Thank you, Andrea." she murmured, taking a sip of the coffee. It was hot, just the way she wanted, lithe hands reached out to free the tablets from their aluminum packaging, swallowing them dry before taking a small nibble of the cracker. The tension in her posture lightened ever so slightly and her gaze returned to the documents in front of her. Now, normally, the coffee + aspirin + crackers combo would be enough to fight off the headache, but seeing the lines of strain between Miranda's eyebrows remaining, Andy knew it was a much more terrible migraine; she reached into her pocket and produced a menthol liniment, handing it to Miranda without a word.
Miranda accepted the liniment with a faint, appreciative nod. She uncapped the small bottle and brought it up to her nose, the menthol scent immediately hitting her and clearing her sinuses, before applying a generous amount on her temples and the back of her neck, massaging it with her fingers. The cooling sensation took effect almost immediately, and she could feel the tension in her head slowly releasing. She sat back in her chair, resting her head on the headrest and let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Is there anything else you need, Miranda?"
Miranda's eyes opened slowly, studying Andy for a moment. The girl had gotten a lot more competent than when she started. The transformation was indeed remarkable. Gone was the bumbling girl in the lumpy cerulean sweater who tripped over her own feet and didn't know her designers, in her place was a competent, diligent assistant who knew Miranda's needs without the other woman having to voice out anything.
After the Paris debacle, Miranda had been ready to bury Andy under the weight of her own audacity, maybe blacklist her from any known publishing houses in the US. The betrayal had burned, a cold, sharp spike in her chest that she'd refused to entertain, at the time, as anything other than professional irritation. But then, Andy had came back. Days later, she'd come crawling back to the dragon's den with her head bowed, and that puppy-dog desperation in her eyes, practically begging for a chance to prove her loyalty again.
And prove, she did.
It was as if Andy was overcompensating for that mistake she'd made in Paris. She was…eager to please, so to say. It was always 'Yes, Miranda', 'Of course, Miranda', 'Thank you, Miranda' and this new hyper-obedient version of Andy was, frankly, intoxicating. The anger that had simmered in Miranda's gut for weeks has slowly cooled down into something tamer, but more dangerous.
It had simmered into a low, thrumming heat.
"Actually," Miranda began, a hint of consideration in her voice. "Come closer, Andrea."
Andy blinked, surprised by the command—Miranda rarely, if ever, let anyone close to her, but ever so obedient, she nevertheless complied.
Miranda watched as Andy drew closer, her gaze assessing.
"Closer." She repeated, gesturing for Andy to come and stand next to the chair.
Andy moved to comply once more.
Once Andy was right next to the chair, Miranda's hand reached out, grasping her wrist with a firm but gentle grip. She guided the girl until Andy was standing in front of her, her body angled between Miranda's legs.
Miranda looked at her closely, her gaze sharp and analyzing.
Andy stood still, simply blinking down at her.
Miranda let her gaze roam over every detail of Andy's form. The girl was attractive, there was no denying that, but her appeal was more than superficial.
Satisfied with her initial assessment, Miranda's hand reached up again, her fingers running through a few strands of Andy's dark locks lazily. Her thumb brushed against the girl's high cheekbone.
"You've worked for me for what, nearly a year?" Miranda murmured.
"Yes, Miranda." Andy answered, unconsciously leaning into Miranda's touch like touch-starved puppy.
A small, barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of Miranda's mouth. She noticed the unconscious reaction, filing that information away for later.
Her fingers continued to toy with Andy's hair, threading through the soft locks. It was done almost absentmindedly, but Miranda's attention remained sharp.
"And you've been reliable," Miranda continued, "You've adapted, learned your duties. Better than any of the girls I had before you. Even better than Emily."
An unreadable look flashed in Andy's eyes, "Thank you, Miranda."
Despite the headache that still nagged at her temples, Miranda found herself almost enjoying Andy's quiet, respectful demeanor. Most people would have been squirming under her gaze by now, but this girl seemed completely unfazed.
Her hand drifted downwards, her fingers lightly tracing the line of Andy's jaw. Miranda tilted her head, studying the girl's face intently.
Andy simply blinked back, wide, brown, doe-like eyes peering curiously down at her.
Miranda was struck by how innocent and sweet looking Andy was. It was an… endearing. Her hand trailed from the girl's jaw to rest on her neck, her thumb sweeping against her pulse point.
"You're so… agreeable now," Miranda murmured, her gaze locking with Andy's. "You hardly ever complain or argue."
"Erm, thank you? I think."
A small, almost indulgent smile played on Miranda's lips at Andy's uncertain response. The girl's obedience seemed almost instinctual, as if she was born to please. She'd seen it before Paris, of course, but now it's much more prominent. Very much overcompensating.
Miranda's fingers continued their exploration, tracing a slow, distracting pattern against the side of Andy's throat. She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur.
"It's a compliment," she assured. "Most people find me… difficult."
Andy hummed, "Well, they're not wrong. But it just means you have a certain standard."
A flicker of amusement danced in Miranda's eyes. That was the first time she'd heard someone so easily admit to her being "difficult" without immediately backpedaling or apologizing.
"You've grown a bit blunt," she noted, a hint of amusement and approval in her voice. Her fingers continued their lazy pattern on the skin of Andy's neck. "I like that."
Miranda stood up and reached both her hands to cup Andy's face, the act squishing her cheeks together.
Andy tilted her head in question but didn't object.
Miranda examined Andy's slightly squished face, studying her features with clinical precision. The girl's dark eyes blinked up at her innocently, her lips slightly pursed from the pressure of Miranda's palms.
Adorable.
She huffed, her hands sliding from Andy's cheeks to cradle her jaw instead, tilting her head up slightly.
"Stay still," Miranda ordered, her voice soft but firm. Without hesitation (more like she couldn't resist, anymore), she leaned down and pressed her lips against Andy's forehead in a brief, feather-light kiss.
She pulled back just as quickly, returning to her seat as if nothing had happened, her expression unreadable.
"Now go. You have work to do."
Andy complied, dazed—her cheeks a bit red from where Miranda has squished them, bangz slightly messy, and an unmistakable shade of Chanel lipstick kiss mark on her forehead.
Miranda watched as Andy turned and walked back her desk. The girl's dazed expression and flushed cheeks didn't escape her keen eye, and the slight mark of lipstick on her forehead only added to the amusing sight.
A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Miranda's mouth. She turned her attention back to the documents, though her thoughts lingered on Andy.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
The day's work was over, and the Runway office was emptying as the employees left for the night. Amidst the flurry of activity, Miranda emerged from her office.
Stalking past the desks of her assistants, she barked out her usual order. "Coat. Bag."
Her gaze landed on Andy, who immediately sprung into action. With practiced efficiency, Andy quickly collected Miranda's coat and bag, holding them out in anticipation.
Miranda slipped on her coat and accepted her bag, glancing at her watch. The night was still young, and she had plans.
She turned her attention back to Andy, noticing the girl's messy hair and slightly flushed cheeks. The memory of the unexpected kiss on the forehead came to mind, and Miranda's gaze lingered on the girl for a moment longer than usual.
"Walk me to the car," Miranda demanded.
"Yes, Miranda."
Andy dutifully obeyed, falling in step beside Miranda as they exited the building. Miranda's strides were long and purposeful, her mind already on her evening plans.
As they walked, she couldn't help but notice the almost obedient way Andy followed her, moving in sync with her movements like a well-trained puppy. The thought was oddly endearing, and Miranda couldn't deny a small part of her enjoyed the girl's devotion.
They reached the waiting town car, Roy was already standing by to open the door for them.
Miranda gracefully slid into the back seat of the town car, settling into the plush leather with a sigh of relief. Miranda glanced over at Andy, who was just about to close the door when Miranda's voice stopped her.
"Get in," Miranda commanded, gesturing towards the seat next to her. It was an unusual request, as she usually preferred to be alone in the car.
Surprised flashed in Andy's eyes before she, of course, complied.
Andy's unquestioning obedience stirred something in Miranda. She watched as the girl slid into the seat next to her, their bodies closer than usual.
Miranda shifted her bag onto the floor, settling into the comfortable silence that filled the car. The cityscape outside passed in a blur as the vehicle glided through the night.
For several minutes, Miranda remained silent, her gaze fixated on the city outside. Then, she spoke, her voice quieter than her usual authoritative tone.
"You've grown very compliant, you know that?"
Andy stayed silent, recognizing that Miranda was not yet done speaking
Miranda observed Andy's respectful silence, appreciating the girl's ability to read between the lines. She took a moment before continuing, her gaze drifting to the window and then back at Andy.
"You hardly ever protest, you follow orders without hesitation. You're like a well-trained..." she trailed off, a word hovering on the tip of her tongue.
She turned her body a bit more towards Andy, her gaze scrutinizing the girl's face. Andy tilted her head questioningly, waiting for Miranda to finish the sentence.
The word she was searching for finally surfaced in her mind.
"Like a well-trained puppy," she said finally, her voice tinged with slight amusement. "It's almost endearing, in a way."
She paused, her gaze fixated on Andy, studying her reaction.
Andy blinked, "Thank you, Miranda."
Miranda's eyebrow quirked at Andy's almost immediate and sincere gratitude. The girl's easy compliance and her quick acceptance were becoming more baffling by the minute. She studied Andy's face closely, a part of her intrigued by the girl's genuine reaction.
"You're not... offended or bothered by the comparison?" Miranda questioned, her voice lacking the usual sharpness as she quirked an eyebrow at Andy.
"Should I be?"
Miranda's lips curled into a small, almost amused smirk. She appreciated the bluntness in Andy's reply. It was refreshing, especially since most people would find the comparison demeaning.
"No," she answered, "No, you shouldn't be. I was simply...curious about how you'd react."
Miranda shifted slightly in her seat, turning further towards Andy. Her gaze remained fixated on the girl. She opened her mouth to say something, but the car had slowed down to a halt. They'd arrived at the townhouse.
Andy got out of the car, rounding to Miranda's side to open the door for her.
Miranda stepped out of the town car, her heels clicking against the pavement as Andy dutifully held the door open for her. The crisp night air surrounded them as they approached the townhouse.
The moment they stepped inside, Miranda turned to face Andy, her piercing gaze locked onto the girl’s face.
"You’re staying."
Andy knew better than to argue. She simply nodded, silently following Miranda further into the townhouse.
Miranda led Andy into the dimly lit foyer, her movements precise as she shrugged off her coat and handed it to her assistant without looking.
"Close the door," she instructed, her voice low and controlled.
As Andy complied, Miranda walked toward the grand staircase, her fingers trailing along the polished banister.
"Follow me."
The words were soft but carried undeniable authority. Miranda ascended the steps with effortless grace, expecting—knowing—Andy would obey without hesitation.
When they reached the bedroom, Miranda turned, her blue eyes glinting like gems in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
"Stay."
Then she disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, leaving Andy alone in the room.
She'd stay.
Of course she would.
Andy couldn't help but squirm in place. What the hell was happening? First, Miranda had touched her face—hell, she'd kissed her forehead!—and now she was in Miranda's room, waiting for the her as she, what, ran a bath?
Okay, this fine. I'm calm. Andy thought. She looked around the room, taking in the aesthetics and little trinkets that was in the space. That's a lot of blue, Andy thought, amused. But other than that, the room felt very…Miranda-like.
The sound of running water from the bathroom filled the silence of the bedroom. Miranda busied herself readying a bath— scented candles lit, the temperature of the water was adjusted to her liking, hot without being scalding, and she added a dollop of foam soap.
Miranda returned to the bedroom, finding Andy still standing obediently where she left her.
"Undress me." She said simply.
What?! What the fuck has the world come to and how can I keep it this way.
Andy blinked, surprised—hesitating for a fraction of a second before her feet were taking her to Miranda.
Alright, this is fine, she probably just wants me to undress her for the bath. Yeah, that's it.
Miranda watched Andy’s brief hesitation with an amused smirk. The girl recovered quickly, stepping forward with that same obedience Miranda had come to expect and, admittedly, enjoy.
She reached out, fingers curling around Andy’s chin, tilting her face up slightly.
“You listen,” Miranda murmured, her thumb brushing along Andy’s lower lip. “Even when you don’t understand why.”
Her grip loosened, letting her hand trail down Andy’s throat, past the collar of her blouse—before her fingers hooked into the fabric, tugging gently.
“Go on."
Miranda’s eyes gleamed in the dim light, waiting.
Andy reached out and gently undid the ties and buttons of Miranda's blouse. As Andy's nimble fingers worked to untie and unbutton the blouse, Miranda stood still, her gaze never leaving the girl's face. The fabric gradually loosened, revealing more of Miranda's pale skin beneath.
Miranda allowed Andy to undress her, a small, almost imperceptible shiver running through her as Andy's fingertips ghosted across the newly exposed expanse of her skin. A small part of her took pleasure in the attention, in the way Andy's eyes trailed over her with rapt focus.
Andy was mesmerized by the expanse of skin that was being revealed to her and so badly wanted to touch—to kiss the alabaster skin underneath her fingertips but she didn't have permission. She can't. Instead, she continued her task, reaching down and unzipping Miranda's skirt.
Andy's restraint was admirable. Miranda had noticed the brief, almost imperceptible hesitation, the desire in her eyes—but no movement was made.
As Andy unzipped her skirt, it pooled around Miranda's ankles in a soft heap of expensive fabric. Her eyes remained fixated on Andy, taking in every subtle detail of her obedient, subservient behavior.
"Keep going." Miranda commanded softly, her voice low and measured. She loved to test the limits of the girl's obedience.
Andy's breath hitched, the only article of clothing left to go was the lacy La Perla bra and the matching panties. She reached behind Miranda, hands trembling slightly and unclasped her bra with practiced ease.
Miranda felt the delicate clasp give way, the silk and lace of her bra loosening around her torso, a cool rush of air ghosting over her bare skin. Andy’s trembling hands, of course, didn’t escape her notice.
"Good girl," Miranda murmured, the praise slipping from her lips almost unconsciously, a way to appease Andy, to tell her she was doing it right.
She stepped forward, forcing Andy to take a reflexive step back until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the bed.
Miranda tilted her head, observing Andy’s flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.
"Now." Her fingers curled around Andy’s wrists, guiding them to the waistband of her panties.
"Finish what you started."
Andy swallowed thickly, her fingers a contrast to their usual capable and competent nature, as they shake slightly against the lace of Miranda's underwear. When the silky material pooled at her ankles, Miranda stepped out of them, her pale, smooth legs illuminated in the dim light.
She stood before Andy, utterly unabashed in her nudity, her gaze unwavering as she took in the girl's widened eyes, the flush on her cheeks, the subtle tremble in her hands. She couldn't help but be smug about it—she knew she was beautiful, but seeing the way Andy reacted to her was…exhilarating, to say the least.
Miranda walked around Andy and stretched leisurely on the bed, creamy thighs spreading just so, making the younger woman stand frozen in place, staring at the sight before her.
"Touch me." Well, bath now entirely forgotten, it seems.
Miranda arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by Andy's frozen hesitation.
"Must I repeat myself?" Her voice was soft, but undeniably commanding. She stretched against the sheets, deliberately widening the space between her thighs.
"But—the…the bath?"
"Are you going to make me ask again?"
Okay, so no bath. Got it.
Miranda waited, her patience thinning—but her anticipation growing.
Andy snapped out of her daze and scrambled to get on the bed, this was no times for thoughts and second guesses. She hovering over Miranda before hesitantly leaning in, "May I kiss you, Miranda?"
Miranda's gaze flickered to Andy's face, her usually stern expression softening briefly. The unexpected question caught her off guard, but she managed to reply without a trace of surprise in her voice.
"Since you asked so nicely," she murmured, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk. "You may."
There was something almost unexpected about the girl's hesitation, her request to ask permission. But Miranda found that she rather liked it. She lifted a hand, gently cupping Andy's jaw, thumb brushing along her jawline.
"Kiss me."
The moment Andy's mouth crashed against hers, Miranda's attention narrowed down to the sharp intake of breath and the sudden, frantic heat radiating between them.
Miranda had been kissed before, of course. She'd endured multiple polite social presses against the cheek, the dry and the transaction affection of her ex-husbands. She was well-acquainted with the mechanics of it—the tilt of the head, the pressure of the lips, all those things.
But this? This was vastly different.
The moment Andy's lips met hers, Miranda felt something ignite—something sharp, electric, and oh-so-all consuming.
This wasn't the practiced, polished kisses of her past lovers, this was hot, heavy, untamed and almost sloppy press of lips. Andy's mouth moved against hers with a desperate urgency, her fingers tangling in Miranda's hair as if she couldn't bear to let go.
Miranda arched into the kiss, her own hands gripping Andy's waist, nails digging in just enough to leave the faintest imprint through her shirt.
When they finally broke apart, Miranda's breath was uneven, her eyes glazed over—a rare occurrence for a woman who prided herself on her control.
She stared up at Andy, her eyes dark blazing.
"Again."
As their lips crashed together for the second time, Miranda's mind went blank, all her senses hyperaware of nothing but Andy.
Miranda could get addicted to this.
She could taste the subtle sweetness of coffee on Andy's tongue as it slipped past her teeth. She could smell the faint hint of expensive perfume mixed with the girl's own soft, musky scent. She could feel the heat radiating from Andy's body, the slight tremble in her muscles even as her touches remained steady.
Miranda lost track of time, of everything but the dizzying sensation of having Andy in her bed, on top of her.
Andy broke the kiss, vaguely hearing a whine leaving Miranda's lips but she was too far gone to care, latching on the pale skin of Miranda's neck.
Miranda gasped—a sound that was entirely involuntary and would be denied when asked—as Andy’s teeth scraped over her pulse point. The sharp sting quickly soothed by a lap of her assistant's tongue, Andy’s mouth mapping a relentless path down her throat, over her collarbone, lower—
Her fingers tightened in Andy’s hair, half guiding, half forcing her exactly where she wanted her.
“There,” Miranda hissed, her hips arching off the bed as Andy’s lips closed over her nipple. The sensation was electric, her body reacting instantly—aching, throbbing.
A breathless, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her.
“Who knew you had it in you?” she murmured, her voice thick with something dangerously close to adoration.
Her hands slipping beneath Andy's shirt as her nails raked down Andy’s back, possessive and punishing all at once.
“Take this off." Miranda rasped, tugging onto Andy's shirt.
Andy pulled back just enough to yank her blouse over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside and making quick work of her bra before diving back in, her mouth crashing against Miranda’s with renewed hunger. The taste of Miranda’s lipstick, the faint bitterness of espresso, the heady scent of her perfume—Andy wanted to drown in it.
Her hands roamed greedily, fingers tracing the sharp lines of Miranda’s ribs, the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her hips, before sliding lower, slipping between trembling thighs.
Miranda’s breath hitched—a sharp, startled sound—as Andy’s fingers found her cunt, already drenched.
“Fuck—” The curse slipped out before Miranda could stop it, her hips jerking up against Andy’s touch.
Andy’s lips curled into a smile against Miranda’s neck.
“You're so wet already,” she marveled, voice low and rough before her fingers pressed in, slowly and deliberately.
Miranda’s back arched off the bed, a moan tearing from her throat—loud, unguarded, and utterly undignified.
Andy drank in every sound, every twitch of Miranda’s body, her own arousal coiling tight in her gut.
“More,” Miranda demanded, nails digging into Andy’s shoulders.
And of course, Andy was nothing short of obedient.
Andy plunged two of her fingers into wet heat, lazily pumping them in and out before withdrawing them.
Miranda’s hips chased Andy’s retreating fingers instinctively—an uncharacteristically desperate motion from a woman prided herself in her ability to remain in control.
Her nails dug deeper into Andy’s shoulders, her voice dripping with impatience.
“If you dare tease me—”
But Andy wasn’t listening.
Instead, she ducked her head between Miranda’s thighs and licked. A slow, deliberate stripe from her soaked cunt up to her clit, before sucking the swollen bud between her lips.
Miranda’s entire body jolted, her spine bowing off the bed as a choked cry tore from her throat.
Andy’s tongue was relentless—flicking, circling, devouring, while her fingers slid back inside, curling just so, immediately finding that spongey spot inside Miranda and pressing relentless against it.
“Andrea—” Miranda gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets, her thighs trembling.
The girl hummed against her cunt—a smug little sound that Miranda would surely pay back later—before redoubling her efforts.
Miranda came with a shuddering cry, her orgasm ripping through her like violently.
Andy didn’t let up—licking her through the aftershocks until Miranda’s hand tangled in her hair and yanked her off.
Breathless, flushed, utterly ruined, Miranda glared down at her—eyes dark with promise.
“Your turn.”
Andy peered up at her, head pillowed on one of her thighs, "One more, please? Can I make you come one more time?"
Miranda’s grip in Andy’s hair tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to gather her attention.
She stared down at the girl, her own arousal spiking again at the sight of Andy’s swollen lips, the hunger in her eyes, the way she asked so prettily.
“Insatiable,” Miranda breathed, but she was already spreading her legs wider, pulling Andy back in by her hair.
“Go on,” she murmured, voice thick with indulgence. “Devour me.”
Andy didn’t need to be told twice.
Her tongue swiped through Miranda’s folds in one slow, filthy stroke before diving back in with almost feral enthusiasm.
Miranda’s moan was guttural, her hips rolling against Andy’s mouth shamelessly.
“Andre—ah—” she gasped, fingers twisting in Andy’s hair.
Andy took Miranda's clit in her mouth once more, applying a gentle suction on the sensitve bud.
Miranda threw her head back against the pillows, her fingers tangling desperately in Andy’s hair, encouraging—demanding.
Andy was perfect, the way she knew exactly how to touch her, how to drive her insane with nothing but her mouth and her hands.
Every sound that left Miranda’s throat was utterly obscene, a raw, unfiltered display of need that would give a lesser man a heart attack if they ever witness it. Hell, Andy was close to one herself, being in between Miranda Priestly's thighs was a religious experience.
"Don't stop," she gasped, the words half command, half plea.
Andy didn't stop—couldn't stop—not when Miranda's thighs were trembling around her, not when the woman's grip tightened in her hair like a vice. She sucked harder, tongue swirling around Miranda's clit in tight, relentless circles until—
Miranda shattered again, her back arching off the bed with a broken cry, her cunt pulsing against Andy's mouth.
Andy moaned against her, lapping up every last shuddering ripple of pleasure until Miranda's fingers weakly pushed her away, oversensitive and spent.
Panting, flushed, and thoroughly wrecked, Miranda dragged Andy up by the hair, crashing their lips together in a messy, desperate kiss, letting her taste herself on Andy's tongue.
"Good girl," she breathed against her lips, the praise dripping with sinful satisfaction.
"Now," Miranda murmured, biting Andy's lower lip, "my turn."
Miranda flipped them over, and clambered on top of Andy, stradding her hips—slightly surprised but utterly delighted at the tent already forming in Andy's skirt.
Miranda smirked down at Andy, relishing the sight of her sprawled beneath her—hair mussed, lips swollen, skirt tented obscenely. She leaned down, her breath hot against Andy’s ear.
"Look at you," she murmured, fingers tracing the prominent bulge straining against the fabric. "So desperate for me."
A sharp pinch to Andy’s thigh made her jerk, but Miranda’s hands were already moving, her nails raking up the trembling muscles of Andy's inner thigh.
Then, without warning, Miranda’s palm pressed down over Andy’s clothed cock, rubbing in a slow, up and down motion.
Andy gasped, hips bucking up instinctively—only for Miranda to shove her back down into the mattress with a single, unyielding hand.
"Stay still," she ordered, her voice dripping with authority.
Her other hand made quick work of Andy’s skirt, not so patiently tugging them off, leaving Andy desperate and naked before wrapping a hand around her cock in one smooth motion.
Andy whimpered, her fingers clawing at the sheets. Miranda squeezed, just enough to make Andy’s breath stutter, before stroking her slowly, thumb swiping over the leaking tip.
"Pathetic," she purred, leaning in until their lips nearly brushed. "All this from just touching me?"
Andy’s answering groan was half-plea, half-prayer.
The sound went straight to Miranda's core, her own arousal flaring in response. How was it that this girl, half her age, with no experience, could bring her to the edge in an instant?
But Miranda wasn't about to let her have the upper hand, even for a second. She leaned closer, her tone dropping to a whisper.
"Look at me," she commanded.
Andy's eyes flew open, meeting Miranda's gaze, dark and heavy with want.
"I want you to watch," Miranda murmured, her thumb rolling lazily. "Watch as I take what's mine."
Andy couldn't help it—a shuddered running through her at those words, a wave of heat washing over her.
Miranda noticed the reaction, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
"You like that, darling?" She purred, testing the endearment, "Being mine? Mine to take and use as I like?"
Andy let out a gutteral moan as a form of answer.
Miranda hovered over her, lining Andy's cock to her entrance before sinking down in one fluid motion.
Miranda gasped as she took Andy in completely, her body adjusting to the delicious fullness—her nails digging into the girl’s stomach as she bottomed out.
For a moment, she simply stayed there, thighs trembling, breath uneven—relishing the way Andy filled her, stretched her, ruined her.
Then, with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, Miranda began to move—grinding down in tight, torturous circles.
Andy’s hands flew to her waist, gripping hard—but Miranda swatted them away with a sharp tsk.
“No,” she breathed, her voice dangerously soft. “You don’t touch unless I say so. You don't move unless I say so.”
Andy whimpered, fingers twitching at her sides—but she obeyed, letting Miranda use her however she pleased.
Miranda’s pace was merciless—slow, deep rolls of her hips, her cunt clinging to Andy’s cock with every movement.
“You feel divine,” Miranda murmured, her hands sliding up Andy’s chest, nails scraping lightly over her skin. “So perfect inside me.”
Andy’s breath hitched, her entire body trembling with the effort of staying still—of letting Miranda have her way.
“Please—” Andy gasped, hips twitching up involuntarily.
Miranda’s grip tightened in her hair, yanking her head back.
“What did I say?” she hissed, her own arousal spiking at Andy’s desperation.
Andy swallowed hard, tears of pleasure pricking at the corners of her eyes.
“N-not to move,” she choked out.
Miranda smirked, releasing her grip, before sinking down onto Andy’s cock again with a satisfied sigh.
“Good girl.”
Andy's eyes rolled back at the praise, her fingers fisting tightly in the sheets. She was on the edge of coming but she held back, digging her teeth into her tongue so hard she tasted copper to prevent it.
But Miranda wasn't about to let her come, not unless it was on her terms.
Her pace slowed to a deliberate grind, each movement designed to drive Andy crazy without letting her find release.
"You feel so good," Miranda whispered, her hand sliding down Andy's stomach, nails scraping teasingly over taut planes. "So desperate and pathetic. I could ride you for hours and you'd let me, wouldn't you?"
"Y-Yes, Miranda." Andy gasped, her back arching, desperately trying not to buck her hips.
The sound of her own name on Andy's lips was a sin—hot and heavy and addictive, more delicious than anything she'd ever tasted.
But right now, Miranda wanted to see just how obedient her little assistant truly was—how far she'd go to please her.
She leaned down, her lips brushing Andy's ear.
"I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to answer me honestly," she breathed, pausing for a moment to grind down, hard.
Andy let out a strangled moan.
"Do you want to come?"
It was a simple question, but the implications were clear. Miranda waited, listening to Andy's ragged breathing—waiting for her answer.
Andy whined, her body straining with the effort of not moving. The desire to come was aching, like a physical pain.
But she obeyed. She'd never disobey Miranda—not when she was like this, so dominant, so demanding.
"Y-yes," she managed. "Please."
Miranda hummed, a spark of satisfaction flaring in her eyes. She'd thought so—known just how desperate Andy was.
"Yes? You want to come in me, hm? Impregnate me?"
Andy let out a hiccupping moan at that, cock twitching inside Miranda, "Yes, yes, yes—"
"Oh, you like that? You like the thought of spilling your come inside me? Having me carry your babies?" She purred, her hips resuming the slow, torturous grind.
"But you won't come until I say so. Understand?"
Andy nodded as best as she could, her breath coming in harsh pants, her entire body trembling. The need to come was consuming her, burning her from the inside.
She bit her lip, letting out a strangled whine.
Miranda’s fingers dug into Andy’s thighs as she supporter herself, her voice dripping with amusement.
“Say it.”
Andy’s breath hitched—her body wound tight, her cock throbbing inside Miranda.
“I—I won’t come until you say so,” she gasped, the words strained but obedient.
Miranda rewarded her with a slow, filthy roll of her hips, just enough to make Andy’s vision blur.
“Perfect,” she murmured, leaning down to nip at Andy’s collarbone.
"M-Miranda—"
God, the sound of her name, so desperate, so needy. Miranda would never get enough of it, she was sure.
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr.
"What is it, darling? Is there something you want?"
Andy groaned, her nails digging into the sheets. She wanted so much, but she knew better than to ask. She'd wait, would follow, whatever Miranda wanted.
Mirana's lips curled into a smirk.
"Use your words," she instructed, her fingers tracing a lazy path up Andy's neck.
Andy whined, the feel of her touch driving her wild. She could feel the pressure building, her release just out of reach.
"Please," she gasped, begged. "Please, Miranda, let me come."
Miranda's smirk widened, satisfaction clear in her blue eyes. Just the reaction she'd wanted—the sound of her begging. She loved to see Andy like this—helpless, desperate, utterly at her mercy.
"Please," Andy repeated, "Let me come inside, please."
Miranda's breath hitched at the filthy request. Saying it herself was one thing, but hearing it come from Andy's lips was another.
She hummed before leaning down, her lips brushing Andy’s ear as she whispered:
"I'm not quite convinced, beg harder."
Andy shuddered beneath her, hips twitching—but she obeyed instantly, her voice breaking.
"Please," she gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets. "Let me—let me come inside you, Miranda. Please. I need it—I need—"
Miranda cut her off with a sudden, vicious roll of her hips—her hips rose before she sank down again, setting a punishing pace and practically bouncing on Andy's cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room in a filthy thwak-thwak-thwak.
Andy’s entire body locked, her cock pulsing—
"Come," Miranda ordered—and Andy felt like she exploded, her orgasm crashing through her with brutal intensity.
Miranda moaned as she felt Andy spill inside her—hot, deep, perfect—her own climax crashing over her seconds later.
When she finally came down, breathless and ruined, she smirked down at Andy—who looked utterly wrecked.
"Good girl," she murmured, stroking Andy’s cheek before pattinh to her thigh.
"Now clean me up."
Andy laid there for a moment, dazed. She watched as Miranda slid off her cock and leaned against the headboard, spreading her thighs open waiting for Andy with an impatient raise of her eyebrows.
Still trembling from the aftershocks, Andy dragged herself up onto her knees, her movements sluggish but obedient.
Miranda watched her with hooded eyes, sprawled against the headboard, legs parted, her cunt glistening with the evidence of Andy’s release.
Andy hesitated for only a second before leaning in—her tongue swiping along Miranda’s inner thigh first, a slow, teasing taste—before finally pressing her mouth to Miranda’s soaked cunt.
Miranda sighed, fingers threading lazily through Andy’s hair.
“Good girl,” she murmured, arching into the careful strokes of Andy’s tongue. “Now be thorough.”
Andy took her time—lapping up every drop of her own release, just as Miranda commanded. She was thorough, diligent—just how Miranda expected.
And Miranda—well, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Her breath came in soft gasps, her head falling back against the headboard as she let herself sink into the feeling.
Miranda leaned back with a satisfied sigh, watching Andy through half-lidded eyes. The way Andy worshipped her was nothing short of mesmerizing—each stroke of her tongue deliberate and almost reverent.
“That’s it,” Miranda murmured, her voice thick with want. “Clean up your mess.”
Andy hummed against her—the vibration sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through Miranda’s spent body—before doubling her efforts, licking faster, hungrier.
Miranda’s breath hitched, her thighs tensing and suddenly she's coming for the fourth time that night.
When Andy didn't relent in her ministrations, she tugged her head back by the hair, forcing her to meet her gaze.
“Enough,” she said softly.
Andy finally pulled back, lips slick and chin glistening, Miranda regarded her with half-lidded satisfaction.
"Exemplary," she murmured, thumb swiping along Andy's lower lip—collecting the last traces of herself.
Then she pressed her thumb against Andy's tongue, watching as the girl dutifully sucked it clean.
"Now," Miranda sighed, stretching luxuriously against the sheets, "Come lay with me. We will talk about this—" she gestured to the two of them "—in the morning."
Andy complied, laying next to Miranda with a satisfied sigh, blinking in surprise as the the older woman huddled closer her to her, resting her head on Andy's chest. Afraid of breaking the moment, she didn't comment and just pulled her close—pressing a chaste kiss on silver head before eventually drifting off to sleep.