Disclaimer: I own nada. I make no money from this story. No copyright infringement intended.

Pairing: Andy/Miranda

Rating: NC-17/M

Summary: While on assignment in Key Biscayne and sharing a suite with her boss, Andy is mortified when she and Miranda overhear amorous and noisy neighbors. Little does she know how such embarrassement will affect her boss.

Miranda's Inspiration

A MirAndy fanfiction story

By Gun Brooke

Florida. Key Biscayne. Yet another luxurious hotel.

Andy sighed as she put down her suitcase and gazed around the suite she was to share with her boss. It wasn't the first time Miranda wanted her close at hand, but it still unnerved her. What if she couldn't keep her professional mask as first assistant extraordinaire in place? What if Miranda saw?

"Why are you just standing there? Go oversee the maids unpacking my outfits and make sure they don't steam the daylight out of them." Miranda entered behind her, making Andy jump. Relieved she had things to do right away, she hurried into her bedroom, threw the bag on the bed and then strode into Miranda's much bigger bedroom where two wide-eyed Hispanic ladies were busy hanging Miranda's clothes.

Andy was as usual amazed at how lightly Miranda travelled, compared to her peers and other celebrities. She had three outfits for every day of the event and four backups in case of emergency. Andy had once seen Anna Wintour's entourage hoist luggage around and didn't envy her staff at all.

"Ms. Priestly wants the clothes steamed, but only very lightly," Andy said to the two maids. "Just be very careful, please."

The maids assured her they'd be extra careful and finally Andy could get her own things unpacked. She was expected to be at two cocktail events and also present for the swimwear shoots and two luncheons. Nigel had helped her pick out the cocktail dresses, but other than that, the rest was her own clothes. Yes, she dressed better than her friends, but she was proud to say she had paid for most of it herself, albeit at a great discount. The name Miranda Priestly automatically knocked sixty percent off the price. Add the fact that it was last year's fashion to that, and it was almost free.


Tucking her white shirt into the gabardine shorts, Andrea hurried back to the living room area. "Yes, Miranda?"

Miranda stopped in midstride, turned and placed a hand on her left hip as she languidly studied Andy's appearance.

"A good cut for you," she said, indicating the shorts. "The shirt. Calvin?"

"Yes. Last years," Andy admitted apologetically.

"Why would Nigel give you last years?" Frowning, Miranda took a step closer.

"He didn't. It's mine. Only the two cocktail dresses are from the Closet." This might not have been a good idea after all. Still, who in their right mind would pay any attention to Andy and what she was wearing when Miranda Priestly was in the room?

"I see." Clearly bored with the topic by now, Miranda grabbed her purse and jacket. "Come along. We'll be late for the luncheon with Donatella."

And here we go. Back in the whirlwind existence of Miranda. Andy looked longingly at the couch. What she wouldn't give to put up her feet and just chill some.


The last two days had been non-stop work. Running errands, fetching coffee, relaying Miranda's orders, and then, eventually crashing into bed without even removing her makeup first. Now on the third evening, dressed in one of the cocktail dresses, Andy was riding the elevator down to the second floor where the Runway hosted cocktail party was underway.

"That dress flatters your figure," Miranda said.

"Wow. I mean, thank you." Andy took the opportunity to return Miranda's appraising glance. Miranda was dressed in a black, lacy cocktail dress that ended just above her knees. It was cut with precision, which made Andy think it must be tailor made for Miranda. "You look beautiful." Damn. Andy cringed. She had meant to say the dress was beautiful. Such personal remarks could get a poor girl fired.

"Thank you." Miranda smiled and then chuckled, probably most amused by Andy's flustered expression. "I take it the florist made it in time after all."

"Yes, she did. And I made sure. No freesias." Andy wondered why Miranda loathed freesias with such a passion. Maybe it was the scent?

"Well, perish the thought." The elevator pinged and Miranda squared her shoulders and donned her brilliant party-smile. "Let's dazzle them, Andrea."

Yet another out-of-the-blue comment to nearly make Andy stumbled as they exited the elevator. Luckily all her training these past two years had made her an expert on walking in four inch heels.

Men and women flocked around Miranda. This wasn't New York where most people knew this was not the preferred approach. Still, Miranda took it in stride and only showed her fangs the few times people wouldn't move fast enough. Andy was just beginning to relax and actually enjoy herself, when Miranda pulled another unexpected stunt. Having made sure Miranda had her perpetual champagne flute and that people around her didn't actually touch her boss, Andy struck up a conversation with the Miami Herald fashion editor.

"I hear your degree is in journalism. Surely being Miranda's assistant—"

"Is quite the learning curve and also a brilliant thing to have on my resume." Andy was used to the criticism. Most people only saw her coffee and coat fetching. They didn't get it.

"That said, what do you think about writing an article what that is like?"

"What, what is like?" Andy blinked, trying to catch up.

"Being Miranda's assistant. I bet a million girls would throw themselves at such an article…straight from the horse's mouth so to speak." The Herald editor's eyes gleamed with excitement. "What do you think? 1,500 words or thereabout?"

"No. No, I couldn't possibly—"

Someone linked their arm with Andy's. Someone who'd copied Miranda's signature scent. This person squeezed her arm closely before speaking with Miranda's voice, "Now, don't be too hasty, Andrea. Such an opportunity doesn't come often in a reporter's life."

"But I'm not—I work for you and my loyalty—"

"Should lie with me, and I know you well enough to be sure this is the case." Miranda patted Andy's shoulder with her free hand. "I would insist on reading the article before it would go into print. Naturally."

"You—you would?" The world seemed to spin out of control. Andy placed her half empty champagne flute on the table behind her. "Really?" She probed Miranda's gaze with her own, trying to find a potential trap.

"Really. You're a gifted writer. Take this chance and start building your career. One day not very far from now, your tenure at Runway will be over and you will need to begin creating your brand." Somehow, Miranda's eyes darkened as she spoke, but then she beamed at the Herald's editor. "Will that be sufficient, Ms. …?"

"Hyland. Georgina Hyland." The striking woman smiled broadly. "I think it sounds marvelous. Any chance you can have it done before you return to New York, Ms. Sachs?"

"Andy. Please. Fifteen-hundred words. Sure." She would work without the luxury of sleep of that was what it took.

"Excellent. Well, then I have to congrat—"

"We have to go. Come along, Andrea." Miranda took off toward the lobby and the elevators, and Andy had to hurry along, smiling apologetically to everyone as she did. Once again back in the elevator with Miranda, Andy was virtually bouncing on the inside.

"You're going to be insufferably giddy, aren't you?" Miranda asked and sighed.

"No. I mean, I'm excited, but—I'll try to contain my giddiness." Andy wouldn't let Miranda's sarcasm and jibes get her down.

"I doubt it. You're blinding smile is going to be plastered on your face and you'll have nothing but this article in your head. Pushing out everything else."

A tiny flicker of anger made Andy straighten her back. "If that's what you think, why did you agree—no, encourage me to do this?" Answer that.

Miranda gave Andy her best 'how stupid can one person get' look. "Because I thought it would make you happy." She bit down on her lower lip. "And of course, it would benefit your future career."

Andy knew her chin was in danger of hitting the floor. "You—yeah? Really?" Of course she sounded like a complete moron too, but Miranda only had herself to blame since she never bestowed such words upon lowly assistants before. How the hell was she supposed to answer in a composed manner when Miranda suddenly rode with her in elevators and said she wanted to make Andy happy? "Thank you." Glad that some of her parents' attempts to instill manners in her and her sister made her respond accordingly, Andy clung to her purse.

Miranda seemed to consider the topic over and done with and strode out of the elevator at her usual pace. Inside their suite, she resorted to unfamiliar behavior, kicking her Prada pumps of inside the door and tossing her diamond embroidered clutch right next to them. Andy stealthily placed the clutch on the dresser and righted the shoes as she took off her own with a relieved sigh.

"I'm going to have a bath. Unless it's the twins I don't want to be disturbed."

Andy gawked. Twins? She checked the time. It was nearly 11 pm. The twins were in bed, surely. It was a school night after all. Then again, the Priestly twins had some weird habits. "Yes, Miranda."

Miranda merely nodded and walked into her bathroom, but unlike before, she didn't close her door. Andy shook her head, wondering if she was suffering from complete exhaustion, or something. And what the hell did Miranda mean with 'unless it's the twins'—what if the twins actually called? Was Andy supposed to enter Miranda's bathroom and hand her the phone in the freaking tub? And why didn't Miranda simply take her cell phone with her into the bathroom and ignored any call except her daughters'? It just didn't make sense—any of it.

Fortunately nobody called and Andy could sit on her bed with her laptop and start writing her 'tell all' article for the Miami Herald. She hummed happily and every so often she had to kick her feet against the covers out of sheer excitement. Only when the small hairs on the back of her head stood straight up, did she realize she wasn't alone. Glancing up, she saw Miranda in the doorway.

"Miranda! What can I do for you?" Andy moved to push the laptop aside, but Miranda waved her hand dismissively.

"No, no. Don't get up. I'm going to bed. I just…I'm glad you're happy about this freelance opportunity." Miranda plucked at her robe belt and the soft light from the dresser lamp brought out something impossibly soft in her eyes.

"I am," Andy said quietly, unable to stop the wide smile from appearing. "I really am."

"Well then." Miranda hesitated for a few seconds. "Goodnight."

For some reason this simple word was the most extraordinary part of an evening of mindboggling events.


Miranda Priestly in a black, classy swimsuit was enough for Andy to forget how you breathe, in or out of the water. She was happy she reached the bottom with the tip of her toes, or she might have swallowed more than what was healthy of the pool water.

Miranda climbed down the ladder with her usual grace, but before her body was entirely obscured by the water, Andy had seen the stunning legs, the trim waist and her unsupported, but oh so lovely breasts. She crossed her legs and dipped her head under the water to virtually cool off. Miranda could not catch Andy ogling her or she'd be put on the first plane back to New York—or worse, been told to hitchhike home to Cincinnati.

Andy shot up from under the water and of course, there was Miranda, looking at her with a great deal curiosity. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Um, I—I thought I dropped an earring."

Miranda looked at Andy's pearl stud earrings, both clearly present and accounted for. She smiled slowly. "I see."

Refusing the insistent groan to get loose, Andy looked around for anything, or anyone, to distract Miranda's laser focus. No such luck. Now her legs felt weak and she just wanted to keep them crossed to stave off the arousal Miranda's presence induced.

"Is that your own swimsuit of something from the Closet?" Miranda asked, unabashedly eyeing Andy's décolleté.

Shit. "Yeah. I mean, it's mine." Knowing she was a dead woman, she continued, "Target. Two seasons ago."

Miranda's eyes grew wide and she glanced at Andy's distorted form through the water. "Oh, my," she managed and then she started laughing. Quickly covering her mouth, only her sparkling blue eyes were visible through her sunglasses. "Well. It does the job, doesn't it?"

As in keeping Andy covered or…? Glancing down at herself in puzzlement, Andy realized the red swimsuit pushed her breast up and together, aided by the water. Not only that, the thin fabric showed her rock hard nipples as if it had been painted on her. Not about to acknowledge it by covering up with her hands like a freaking maiden, Andy murmured something about 'time-for-a-swim-gotta-work-off-that-cheese-cake-from-lunch' and dove into the water. Holding her breath, she made sure she appeared at the other end of the pool.

Miranda stood where she left her, no longer laughing, but for several moments, she didn't take her eyes off Andy.

Throwing herself into a desperate crawl, Andy was pretty sure she was better off not knowing what Miranda was thinking.


On their sixth evening in Key Biscayne, Andy rubbed her tired eyes and blinked hard twice as if this would make her vision improve. Having stared at her laptop for hours on end, she was pretty sure she must have fluorescent-red pupils by now. She glanced over at Miranda who was working just as diligently at her laptop, sitting at the small desk by the window. Why didn't she look even remotely tired? Was she even human? Andy shook her head. Stupid questions. This was Miranda Priestly she was working for—probably a direct descendant of Miracle Woman. She wished she could put that in her article.

A muted thud against the wall made Miranda look up briefly, but then she continued perusing her document. Andy had no idea who was on the other side of the wall, but her room was located on that side of the living room area. The hotel was of course so luxurious, it would drive Irv Ravitz bonkers, something Miranda clearly couldn't care less about.

Andy checked the time. 11:14 pm. She'd been at it since seven in the morning with very short lunch and dinner breaks. What she wouldn't give to just tip sideways on the couch and pull a blanket over her.

Another thud, followed by what sounded like a giggle came from the suite next to theirs. Someone then moaned and Andy tried to hide behind the laptop screen at the telltale sound. Please. That just couldn't happen. She couldn't listen to anyone doing that with Miranda working less than two yards from her.

Miranda had raised her head quizzically for a moment, but was now back to typing. Perhaps Andy could sneak into the bathroom and stay there until whoever it was had stopped causing such havoc. There was no way she could listen to that in the same room as Miranda.

Another voice moaned and someone called out 'oh, yes'. Andy's cheeks grew hot and she stared stubbornly at her screen. Another set of thuds accompanied by moans and whimpers, did not help. It was pretty clear what they were doing next door and the thought of having to overhear it in Miranda's presence sent unbidden images whirling through Andy's mind. Her legs grew heavy and she pressed them together, but that turned out to be a mistake as it only emphasized the sweet ache between them. She didn't dare look over at Miranda. No doubt her boss would insist that Andy walk over to the noisy neighbors and demand they have sex quietly.

Miranda stood, which started Andy enough to raise her eyes. Walking over to the bar, Miranda poured herself another glass of red wine. "Would you like some?" she said over her shoulder.

Stunned, Andy had to swallow before she could answer. "Um. Oh. Thank you. Yes, please."

Miranda poured a second glass and before Andy could stand and move over to get it, she walked over and handed it to her. Taking the crystal glass with trembling hands, Andy looked up at Miranda as she murmured another 'thank you'.

Of course, the neighbors slammed into the wall and the woman groaned 'deeper, deeper, go inside'. Wanting to die, Andy took too large a gulp of the red wine and nearly choked on it as Miranda sat down next to her.

"How far along are you?" Miranda leaned sideways against the backrest.

For a crazy moment Andy was sure Miranda knew how wet and swollen she was, but then she reeled herself in. "Final set of edits. Just house cleaning really."

"Good. Good." Miranda sounded distracted and who could blame her.

Studying her boss furtively, Andy saw a faint, pink blush on her cheeks, but that might as well be due to the wine. Their neighbors chose this moment to thud against the wall again and now it was clear the second person was a woman as well as two female voices cried out.

"God almighty," Miranda murmured and rubbed at the back of her neck. "You'd think a hotel in this price range could afford better sound insulation."

What the hell was Andy supposed to say now? "I agree." Groaning inwardly at how lame that sounded, Andy drank more wine. It warmed her belly and seemed to seep straight into her blood stream.

"Then again, at least it sounds like they're enjoying themselves." Miranda raised one of her eyebrows as if challenging Andy to respond.

Pretty sure she was gaping like a fish out of water; Andy could not believe Miranda actually said that. A louder thud like before made her cheeks ignite further. "Unless someone just got concussed." Andy smiled weakly.

Miranda chuckled. One of the women in the neighboring suite cried out 'fuck, yes' and then 'use your tongue'. Andy trembled so badly now, she was certain it was visible to Miranda.

"She sounds all right." Miranda smiled lopsidedly. "And quite assertive."

Oh, no. Miranda shouldn't flirt. Not like that. Not with Andy when she was so turned on by Miranda's presence and by the sounds next door. She had to get out of the living room, but she couldn't very well ignore Miranda and leave before she finished editing. Trying desperately to think of something to say, Andy clung to her wine glass as if it was the only item anchoring her in reality. "And happy," she said, not realized what words would leave her lips.

"Indeed." Miranda placed her glass on the coffee table. "Back to work." She rose and her scent, the all-to-familiar perfume, wafted up from Miranda's perfect skin.

Andy clamped down her jaws around a muted whimper. She set down her glass next to Miranda's and grabbed for her laptop. She hurriedly read through the last two pages of Miranda's text, found only one mistake and then sent it to Miranda's private server. She snapped the laptop closed and stood on wobbly legs. "All done. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go to bed, Miranda?" She begged inwardly that Miranda would dismiss her.

"No? What on earth would that be at this hour?" Miranda didn't look up from her computer. She didn't say good night, but Andy knew she was off the hook and drew a deep sigh of relief.

In her bedroom, she leaned against the door for a few seconds, wiping her forehead. Lifting her hair, she felt how damp the back of her neck was and suddenly she couldn't tolerate any clothes against her skin. She tore off the slacks and tossed them on a chair. The blouse went the same way, and her underwear ended up on the floor by the bed. Naked, she slid into bed, the cool bed linen actually helping to soothe her flustered skin.

She lay still, trying to get her breathing under control. The sounds next door couldn't be heard in here, but what she and Miranda had overheard played in her mind over and over. 'Use your tongue.' This made Andy spread her legs and push one hand in between them. She had to give herself some release or she would self-combust tomorrow when she had to be at Miranda's beck and call all day.

Her own fingers almost felt to course against her drenched folds. So swollen, probably more than she'd ever been, and sensitive, even the slightest touch was too much. Frustrated, Andy tried to carefully circle her clitoris, but she was so sensitive it nearly hurt to touch herself. Whimpering she rolled to the side and tried rubbing her thighs together. They were slick with arousal, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

Lying still and trying to catch her breath, she pictured Miranda, there on the couch like before. Leaning her head in her hand and sipping her wine. Wasn't it pathetic to actually wish to be a wine glass, just to feel those lethal, pink lips against her? Anywhere? 'Use your mouth.' Oh, God, Andy could hear the woman on the other side of the wall and she could hear Miranda say 'She sounds all right. And quite assertive.' "Fuck, Miranda," Andy moaned and rolled over on her back again. And stared with her mouth open at the ghostlike vision before her.

Bathed in the moonlight from the window, Miranda stood, dressed in a white silk bathrobe, right next to her bed. So close, her legs were actually touching the mattress. Andy couldn't make a sound, other than gasp for air.

"Are you okay, Andrea?" Miranda merely stood there, her head tilted slightly. "I heard you moaning. I wanted to make sure the wine hadn't made you ill since you've been on your feet for so long."

"Wine?" Andy was shuddering now, her teeth nearly clattering. "No. No. I'm good."

"Really? You sound feverish." Tugging at the covers, Miranda began to remove them.

Panicking, Andy managed to hold on to the bed sheet. "Truly, Miranda. Everything is fine."

"Then why are you shaking so badly? And moaning my name? This suggests to me that you need my assistance for once."

She had to be fucking kidding? Was Miranda really this obtuse—no, of course not. She knew. She knew exactly why Andy was shivering and clinging to the sheet. The question was, why did she bother with it? Why was she here?

Miranda yanked the bed sheet from Andy's suddenly listless grip. "Ah. As I thought." She untied the belt of her robe. "May I join you and see if I can do something about your distress, Andrea?

"Yes," Andy whispered and just stared as Miranda's bathrobe glided down along her body like fog down a mountainside. Andy had a few precious seconds to devour the pale beauty before here before Miranda slid into bed next to her. Without preamble, Miranda wrapped her arms around Andy and covered her mouth with her own.

Miranda was kissing her. Not a tentative, polite kiss, but a lip-parting, all-consuming kiss that once and for all told Andy that this nocturnal visit was no accident. Miranda knew how Andy was feeling and clearly was not unaffected either.

"Now," Miranda whispered as she let go of Andy's mouth. "Tell me where you need me. Tell me where it hurts, Andrea."

"I need to come," Andy moaned. "I really, really need to, but I'm too…um, tender."

"Let me." Miranda slid her hand down between Andy's breasts, cupped them briefly and flicked at the rock hard nipples. "Hm. Too far gone for such play, I think." She dipped her hand and merely cupped Andy's swollen labia. "Oh, my." She kissed Andy again, this time slow and with so much tenderness, Andy started shaking worse than before.

"Miranda. Oh, God."

"Am I to assume you tried this and you're too sore?"

"Yes," Andy managed.

"So tell me."

"What?" So dizzy now from Miranda's caresses and kisses, Andy just stared up at her.

"Ask me what to do, like our inspirational neighbors did. Tell me."

Andy's mind stood still for a moment, but then she realized what Miranda meant and blushed crimson. "God, I can't believe I'm…" she muttered, but knew better than to keep Miranda waiting. "Use your mouth." Had anyone told her only moments ago she'd say those exact words to the woman that kept invading her erotic fantasies and also intimidated her to no end; no way she'd ever believe them.

"Like so?" Kissing down the same path as her hand had just taken, Miranda made goose bumps rampage over Andy's skin like wild fire.

"Yes. God, yes." Andy knew she was going to incinerate under Miranda's caresses. It was just a matter of time. She could hardly breathe

"Make room for me." It was not a request, yet it was said with the softest of tones. Almost persuasive. Didn't Miranda realize this was like a fairytale becoming real for Andy?

Miranda nibbled the wet skin on the inside of Andy's thighs as she maneuvered herself in place. "Hm. I need a pillow."

So used to following Miranda's directions, Andy merely handed her on of the pillows and felt Miranda push it in under her hips. This wasn't happening. This was totally surreal.

"You sure?" Andy had to know. "Are you going to hate me?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Miranda nipped at the inside of Andy's thigh a little harder. "I could never hate you even if I tried."

Oh. The extraordinary statement from Miranda made Andy's legs go limp and fall completely to the side. Miranda hummed approvingly and then her tongue was there. Silky wet, smooth and hot, it was more perfect than any finger. Miranda moved it around the swollen folds as Andy's clitoris tried to beckon her closer. Then again, Andy knew if Miranda touched her there, she would come and that would be it. She didn't want this to be over too soon, but she didn't want to bore Miranda to tears by taking too long—

"What's wrong?" Miranda raised her head and looked up at her. "You're all tense. Am I hurting you?"

No but you could. "No." But Andy was tensing up again.

"You wish to stop?"

"No!" Miranda was obviously a mind reader and, God; Andy knew she was screwing it up. Miranda wasn't the patient type and now Andy was doing her best to act just the way Miranda hated the most. "Not for anything," Andy whispered. "I'm just so—surprised. And so fucking turned on you'll find me even more ridiculous." Andy wasn't sure she was making sense.

"Have you ever found me too willingly, and dare I say, eagerly, engage in anything I don't want to?" Resting her head on her hand, just above Andy's pubic bone, Miranda pursed her lips, but not in that 'you're screwed' way that she did toward unfortunate designers. "Listen. You can thank our neighbor for this happening tonight," Miranda said slowly. "That said, we both know, or at least I do, that it would've happened sooner or later. Maybe not this trip, but before your tenure was over. Surely you realize that I wouldn't have let you go without at least taking a chance that you may feel…the same way." She ran her free hand up and down Andy's leg, more reassuring than arousing at the moment. "And at first I came to talk to you, to make sure you were all right, but when I saw you…heard you…and you spoke my name with such need in your voice. I…I couldn't wait." She pushed up and kissed Andy's lips again, her tongue eager and probing, but also so tender as it beckoned Andy's to come and play.

Without realizing how it happened, Andy found her hands full of Miranda's breasts, nipples rock hard and she rolled and plucked at them, wanting them in her mouth. "I'm glad you came. I want you, Miranda," she said, shoving her fear and insecurity aside. If Miranda could, so could she. "You're gorgeous. So beautiful."

"Ahhh…silly girl." Miranda spoke with such tenderness, Andy kissed her. "Now," Miranda continued, "did I misunderstand, or are you ready for me?"

"I am. Oh, you have no idea how ready I am."

"I think I do." Miranda shimmied back down between Andy's legs and now it was clear all bets were off. She pushed Andy's legs farther apart and opened her labia with gentle fingers. Miranda pressed her tongue flat against the wetness, moving it in slow circles. Andy couldn't speak after that. That tongue, often so acerbic and sarcastic, now made love to her just the way she craved it. Miranda pressed her tongue inside Andy, over and over, before she had mercy on the suffering clitoris that was on fire. Flicking the tip of her tongue over it a few times, Miranda then pressed the flat of her tongue over it and massaged it in long fast movements.

Andy convulsed rapidly. Curling up around Miranda's head, she wailed, forgetting about less-than-soundproof walls. Eventually all she could do was whimper as her body slowly relaxed and she melted into the bed. Miranda crawled up to lay beside her, holding her close.

"Oh. Oh boy." Andy buried her face into Miranda's neck. "You—you—oh boy."

"Such eloquence," Miranda said, but whatever acerbic tone she might have been after, failed, as Andy could tell she was out of breath and her body shivered.

"Your turn," Andy said and rolled on her side, facing Miranda. "You're good at giving orders. Tell me what you want." She smiled broadly, grateful she recuperated fairly fast.

"Oh, I want it all." Miranda cupped her cheeks. "But for now, I want your hand. The way you just came nearly drove me over the edge, but…"

"But you wanted to come because I touched you." Andy knew she was right.

"Yes." It was Miranda's turn to hide her face into Andy's neck. "I want you to go inside. Fill me, Andrea."

The words, so impossible only hours ago, made Andy pull Miranda closer with one hand and gently push the other in between Miranda's thighs. Downy wetness met her eager fingers and she parted it gently to find Miranda's entrance. Trying one finger, she could tell from Miranda's impatient shifting of the hips it wasn't enough. Not sure how she knew, she pushed her three middle fingers tightly together and slowly reentered Miranda, who in turn dragged her breath in between her teeth and exhaled in a moan.

"Yes. Just like so. Andrea…"

Taking up a steady pace, Andy filled Miranda the way she wanted, and then she lowered her head and took the closest nipple in her mouth. Perhaps because she hadn't expected it, this made Miranda cry out and go rigid, over and over, her inner muscles contracting around Andy's fingers.

"Andrea, oh, God, Andrea." Miranda clawed at Andy's shoulder, clearly trying to get closer.

"I have you." Andy rocked the convulsing Miranda gently, her fingers still buried inside her. "I have you and I'm not going anywhere."


"I promise."

"Swear it."

"I swear."

"I want you again." Miranda dragged Andy up over her, Andy's fingers slipping out. "Are you too sensitive or can I go inside?"

"You can try. Just b-be careful." Suddenly nervous, Andy closed her eyes where she was straddling Miranda's hips, feeling so vulnerable and on display in the moonlight.

"Shh. Come here." Tugging her down to lie chest to chest, Miranda worked her hand in between them. "See? Very slow. Very gentle."

Andy felt a single finger enter her and it didn't hurt. Perhaps her orgasm had numbed her a bit. "More," she said and moaned.

"Certainly." Adding a second finger, Miranda shifter beneath her as if searching for a better angle. Part of her hand was pressed against Andy's clitoris, as Miranda moved her fingers softly in and out.

Andy wasn't going to let this be a one-sided thing. She was in the perfect position to push Miranda's breasts up until she could reach them with her mouth. The velvety, puckered flesh proved to feel wonderful against her tongue. She couldn't resist chewing lightly on the hard nipples, using her molars very gently, and then licking them soothingly before she tugged at them with her front teeth. Andy blew at the wet flesh, which made Miranda whimper and increase her speed between Andy's legs. This actually stung a bit, but it also was the start of her next orgasm.

"Going…to come…" Andy couldn't even focus on the pretty nipples before her, but simply latched onto the right one and sucked it deep into her mouth as the tremors reverberated between her legs and up through her belly. "Mhhhmph…."

"Andrea!" Arching beneath her, Miranda cried out, amazingly enough having another orgasm as well. Andy slumped sideways, not about to crush Miranda underneath her. She reached out and cupped Miranda, to make sure her orgasm didn't stall midway or something. She massaged Miranda's clitoris on the outside of her labia, entranced by the silky, wet sensation against her fingers.

"Ah!" Arching again, Miranda tugged at Andy, groaning deep in her throat. "Oh, God, please…"

"What? Tell me…I'll do anything."

"No, no more, just hold still. Please. Please."

Stilling her hand, Andy lay motionless next to her lover…her lover. The whole concept of them being lovers now, was mind-blowingly surreal. And Miranda had said she wasn't prepared to let Andy go, so that had to mean this wasn't a one-night thing while on assignment. Surely?

"You're trembling." Miranda pulled the covers up over them. "I can hear those wheels in your head turn again. Please tell me you're not contemplating withdrawing from me because you think that's what I want?"

Andy flinched. "You—you said you wouldn't want to let me go. Or something like that."

"Something like that." Miranda moved closer, rearranging the pillows, including the one Andy had been propped up on before. "Is this when I ask you if you have regrets?" Her voice was non-committal, but Andy knew Miranda well enough to detect the guarded tone.

"No need. Cause I don't. I'm exactly where I want to be." Andy decided that she would not let insecurities and mind-ghosts destroy anything. "Present and future tense alike."

Miranda chuckled and ran her fingers through Andy's hair. "You're going to look like a panda in the morning."

"Huh?" Andy blinked.

"You didn't remove your makeup, naughty girl."

"I can do it."

"No. I'm not about to let you go even for that. You can wash your face tomorrow." Miranda pressed her lips to Andy's forehead. "I couldn't bear it if you weren't in my arms right now. Surely you realize what it took for me to act on my feelings?"

Andy cupped Miranda's cheek and kissed her softly on the lips. "A huge leap of faith."

"Yes. I assume the same goes for you."


"And to commit to such a leap of faith can only be based on true emotions, correct?" Miranda nuzzled Andy's temple. "Do you agree?"

"I do."

"I'm glad." Relaxing into Andy, Miranda hummed contentedly. Her breathing soon became even and deep.

Andy couldn't remember being happier or more satisfied, even if she expected the latter was temporary. She would crave Miranda's body and affections very soon again, she hoped Miranda realized this.

As she started to drift off to sleep, she chuckled soundlessly. Of course Miranda knew how she affected Andy. After all, this was Miranda Priestly they were talking about and judging from the hungry look in her eyes earlier, she craved Andy right back.

This last thought made it possible for Andy to fall asleep.

The End