DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Throughout most of her life, Miranda Priestly did not enjoy it when her husbands went down on her.
She put up with it, because they thought she wanted it, and she hated to disappoint, since she was so often a disappointment to them in other arenas. If she lay still enough, making the right noises, and the right movements, they would eventually stop, wipe their chins, and get on with it.
Not that she didn't like sex with her husbands. That was fine, if somewhat uninspired. But Stephen, and before him, Jeremy, had never mastered her. No one had.
Andrea, who on her first attempt, fumbled around, licked her for two minutes and made her come. Explosively. She felt like a volcano that had just blown its top after fifty years of sleep. She wanted more, immediately, but was denied.
Now, Miranda took it whenever she could get it, and Andrea was always game. Almost always. There was that time she covered the mayoral election, and came home exhausted after two days without rest. Miranda hadn't asked, but she wanted.
Andrea made up for it the following weekend, when the girls were away with their grandmother. They did it all over the house. For the next week, Miranda cheeks flushed when she climbed the second floor staircase.
Also throughout most of her life, Miranda didn't have sex in the office. Her husbands had wanted to, but in this, she refused to compromise. The office was for work, and there were security cameras all over the building. None near her office, though. She had made sure of that. Tonight the entire floor was empty, and Andrea was working late at the newsroom. After a moment's consideration, she sent Emily home, as well as Jane, whom she still called Emily. Maybe in a few weeks, she'd earn her stripes.
Emily complained, insisting that she wanted to stay. Who would answer the phone if someone called? But Miranda waved her hand. "Go," she said. Emily relented.
When she heard the main office door swing shut, Miranda picked up her cell.
"Well, hello there," Andrea's smooth voice answered.
"You home yet?"
"No, I'm at the office."
"Me too. I was going to split and get some take-out in a few minutes, but I really should stick around. I'm helping Dixon out with the edit later, but at least the stand-off's over. I'll probably be home by 2." She breathed a sigh into the phone. "Sorry."
"What if you took a break?" Miranda asked lightly.
There was a pause. "A break?"
"Yes." Miranda made her voice low. She shifted in her seat.
No sound came through, and Miranda decided she'd stepped over a line.
"Are you alone?" Andrea inquired, her tone abrupt.
A tingle shot between Miranda's thighs, and she felt wet. Just the suggestion of Andrea's tongue was enough. "Yes," she replied.
"I'll be there in twenty. Want dinner too?"
"Nothing from a cart."
There was a snort, and the connection was broken. Miranda sat back with a grin she thought might be feral.
Seventeen minutes later, heavy footfalls pounded on the marble floor, growing louder with each step. Andrea was a graceful girl on a good day, but the rest of the time, she made a great deal of noise. Miranda rather enjoyed that; she liked to know when her lover arrived home, even very late at night.
Tonight, Andrea was smiling widely, carrying a bag that held two white take out containers. Miranda did not care much what was inside them. She wanted only what was under Andrea's coat, and suit jacket, and blouse, and bra, and skirt, and panties. Andrea dropped the plastic bag, as well as her own coat and purse on the floor. Miranda was out of her seat in a flash, pulling her close, her teeth zooming in on an earlobe in the way that made her mewl like a kitten.
"Ah," Andrea said, throwing her head back. "Wait, wait." She put her hands up, and Miranda did as she asked. "Let me just look at you for a minute."
Miranda could not help but raise an eyebrow. "Look at me?"
"I didn't get to see you this morning. It was still dark when I left."
Andrea never turned the light on if she had to go to work early, and tried very hard not to disturb her. It wasn't necessary, but Miranda was moved by her kindness.
So Miranda allowed the delay, as Andrea touched her hair, and ran delicate fingertips down her cheek, to her mouth. This admiration, this complete and utter devotion Andrea displayed, was as unnerving as it was addictive. Often Andrea appeared as though she simply could not believe that she was lucky enough to be with Miranda. Often Miranda felt the same, but she did not say it. It was still too dear, and too frightening to speak aloud.
But no matter. Andrea had always been able to read her thoughts.
After a minute, Andrea leaned in and kissed her, and Miranda allowed herself to dissolve into the embrace. Time slipped by before Miranda realized that Andrea had hitched up her skirt and pushed her against the desk. She gasped when her skin hit the cool surface, and helplessly watched Andrea drop to her knees. As she pulled Miranda's underwear off, she bit her lip.
Miranda would have begged for it, if Andrea had wanted her to. But Andrea read her expression, could see the desire, almost to the point of pain, in her eyes. She took mercy and touched her. "God, you're a river tonight." She slid two fingers in with great care, eyelids drooping to half-mast.
Oh, how Miranda wanted to watch her use her tongue, but she felt weak and powerless, unable to control her reaction. She had to lie down, and so she did, knocking papers and magazines off the desk in a waterfall. "Andrea," she breathed, "I thought of you all day. I thought of this."
And then Andrea's kiss descended, dangerously hot and wet, and Miranda's back bowed under the assault. It was glorious, and Miranda grabbed the side of the desk with her hand. The fingers twisting inside her curled, until slowly, so slowly, they began to rub, and press. Heat unfurled through Miranda's limbs, and her entire being was focused somewhere within, where Andrea unlocked the source of her pleasure. Her body rose and fell, bringing her closer and closer to the inevitable, to what she both wanted and wished she could prolong. But Andrea was relentless, and soon Miranda gave up the battle, vibrating deliriously as she came with an ecstatic cry.
She drifted for long moments as Andrea nuzzled her, one hand rubbing a thigh affectionately. "Mm," Andrea said. "I'm so glad you called."
Miranda barked out a laugh, sitting up on her elbows. "You're glad?"
"Mm-hmm," she said, leaning her head against Miranda's knee.
"You never cease to amaze me," she said. "Now lie down on that floor and let me have my way."
Andrea did so, giddily unzipping her skirt and pushing it down. "You're in quite the mood. Have a good day?"
"Getting there," Miranda said, not wanting to be reminded of her afternoon, which had been dismal. Irv had harassed her for an hour straight about the budget, which explained why she was still in the office, and likely would be until late. There was no point in being home tonight; the girls were with Jeremy. And while Miranda had once enjoyed the peace of an empty house, that was no longer the case.
Hovering over Andrea on her elbows, Miranda touched their lips together gently, withholding. Andrea liked to be teased, and taunted, but that was for another day. Tonight, she would make love to her, sliding her tongue into places that she had never considered before meeting Andrea. She'd occasionally wondered if having sex with Andrea made her a lesbian, or at the very least bisexual. But she wanted no one else, no one but this girl, and had decided she was simply monogamous.
The smell of Thai spices suddenly wafted into her nostrils, and Miranda's stomach growled. "I heard that," Andrea giggled. "Hurry up, I'm hungry too."
"I don't like to rush," Miranda complained.
"Then you'd best get started," Andrea suggested, nudging her with one leg. "I'm nearly there anyway. Watching you tonight was good."
"Really," Miranda said, smug. "Well then." She moved down and spread those coltish legs, nosing around her underwear. There was a wet spot in the center. "I see that."
Andrea sighed, and started murmuring. She occasionally talked during sex. Sometimes it was dirty, sometimes it was romantic, sometimes it was about what she did that day. And sometimes, when Miranda felt luckiest, she talked about what it was like when they made love. Tonight, she hit the jackpot. "You know what they say," Andrea said, and gasped when Miranda pulled off her underclothes. "It really is like eating a peach, oh god, right there, mm, that's so nice," she babbled. Miranda jabbed with her tongue, and was rewarded with a squeal. "You're so luscious, god, just looking at you makes me wet, you're so red, and ripe for the plucking." Andrea threw one hand against her mouth, and when Miranda realized she was inhaling it, inhaling her scent, she surged forward and sucked, wanting to cry out. "Oh god, you are a peach, Miranda, a peach that's all mine, all mine to devour, any time I want." Her hips undulated in waves, and Miranda heard a heartbeat loud and fast in her ears. She couldn't tell whose it was, nor did she care. She only cared that Andrea's thrusts were getting quicker, and sharper, and her voice was spiraling into the air incoherently as she approached her peak.
And then she was there, coming with a joyful shout, her legs jerking out wildly. Miranda heard the sound of something breaking, but she barely noticed it, staying with Andrea, keeping her tongue pressed firmly against quivering flesh.
Andrea rubbed her fingers against her mouth, humming in the aftermath, whispering to herself. Miranda thought she was saying, "All mine," but it was too difficult to discern with the pounding in her ears. As Miranda rose up on all fours, she screeched when a stream of water spilled onto her back.
"What?" Andrea was up like a shot to investigate. "Oh, shit," she said. "Your vase, with the roses. It's uh, broken."
Miranda sat up and turned around. Andrea was indeed correct; her vase had broken into a few pieces, but water was everywhere. At least she'd had the good sense to push the essential papers on the floor before they'd gotten started. Nothing of import was compromised. It was, however, a mess that she did not care to explain.
Andrea looked at her, unable to hide a contrite grin. "I guess I kicked the desk. Sorry."
"Next time we'll be more circumspect about position."
Andrea threw herself at Miranda, arms wrapping around her neck tightly. "God, you're wonderful," she said. "I love being with you."
I love you, Miranda thought. They hadn't said it. She didn't know why she was so afraid, but she was. But this was already so good, so wonderful, so everything she'd never honestly believed in, and she didn't want anything to change. Not yet. So she simply said, "Andrea," and kissed her.
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