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Andrea slips into the bedroom as she always does: quietly. Miranda glances at her, she’s wearing the new uniform and God does she look good in it. It takes all of her iron clad will to keep the shell of La Priestly on and not just fuck this girl into oblivion, but she manages. Barely. She raises her hand, palm out. The Book is placed there and she gets to work. It’s the hardest thing she’s ever done. Her blood thrums through her veins. She’s been waiting for this moment since the slip of a girl walked into her office with that impertinent smile and innocent “Good morning, Miranda.” The throb between her legs grew almost uncomfortable when she told her that she would be delivering the Book tonight. Now she is here and they have all night. The girls are at a sleepover, Stephen's gone, and everything inside of her screams to take her rough and fast. But no. She takes a deep breath. Work comes first. Always first.

Andrea does not sit while she works. She blends into the background while Miranda fixes the Valentino spread and really did Jocelyn think she could get florals passed her when she already rejected the idea. She crosses out the page in bright red pen and moves on, licking her finger to turn the page.

Andrea gasps.

She glares at her. No, no this won’t do. She slams the Book shut. The noise echoes against the silence of the room. Andrea’s hands are digging into her skirt and she’s panting so hard that her breasts are sure to break free from the confines of her shirt. She removes her glasses to take her all in. Really she didn’t know why she hesitated to put the maid’s uniform she had to work. Cliche as it is, it was one that she was deeply enjoying. Andrea trembles before her and she hasn’t even touched her yet. She looks her fill and licks her lip knowing it will elicit a whimper. So responsive her Andrea. Enough waiting.

“Get on the bed.” She purrs. It’s the first thing either of them have said and it fills the silence with a palpable tension that sings through her veins.

Andrea slowly maneuvers to the middle bed. If not for the shaking and near stumble she would have thought she was trying to tease her. Still it works. She rushes after her, grabbing her hips and flipping her so she’s lying on her back. Andrea’s eyes are wide and she bites her lip against the moan in her throat. The time for slow has passed. Right now she needs to be fucked. This angle does little to hide the toy Andrea’s wearing underneath her skirt and Miranda can’t wait anymore. She tugs that flimsy skirt up, straddles her, and sinks down. 

“Yes” She hisses. So good. She needed this. She needs this. Andrea whimpers when she rolls her hips and her body clenches. She watches Andrea as she lifts up and slams back down. Andrea’s biting her lip and her hands clutch at the bedsheets. She does it again, and again. Harder, faster. It’s not enough. She arches her back, drives it deeper, but still it’s not enough. She leans forward trying to chase the bliss flowing through her veins. “Yes!” She cries. Right there. Perfect. She opens her eyes—when had she closed them?— and Andrea’s right there. Her eyes a swirl of desire, her face flushed, her pants breezing by her face. She’s so close and it’s too much.

Andrea.” She whimpers. It’s too much yet not enough. Not enough. She cries out again. Then there are hands on her hips forcing her down harder. She gasps and her eyes snap open to Andrea’s. They are hard and determined and this has never happened before. 

“Miranda,” Andrea moans. Then she’s coming. Pure hot pleasure rushes through her veins. She moans, gasps, and trembles in its wake and still Andrea doesn’t stop and she’s coming again Andrea’s name torn from her lips.

When she comes to Andrea is cradling her in her arms. Miranda trembles still and sweet aftershocks rip through her system, but Andrea is holding her and nothing will take her out of this moment. She raises her head from the crook of her neck and looks at her. Andrea’s eyes are resigned but her chin juts out daring her to punish her for the breach in etiquette. Honestly she should. She had made it clear from the beginning, if this arrangement were to continue there would be no touching. Andrea would give and Miranda would take and take and take as many times as needed. She should end this arrangement right now. Andrea knows it too. Despite the stubborn tilt of her jaw, her lip wobbles with each second that goes by. Miranda sighs. Damn.

She kisses her. Andrea's lips slacken in shock but she quickly responds to the kiss. Her lips are so soft and pliant and she struggles to keep the kiss soft. She wants to go inside and take what should have been hers since the beginning. She pulls back instead, the kiss breaking with a soft pop. She cradles Andrea’s face, traces the curve of her lips. 

“That’s all.” She says with a tiny smack on the face. Those two words had always been used to signify the end of these encounters, but this time it’s different. This time Andrea beams. She slides off to the side and lets her up. Andrea trembles with a need gone ignored yet again, but the smile never leaves her face as she turns, gives her a soft “Goodnight Miranda”, and leaves on shaky legs. Miranda watches the doorway until she hears the front door close and the beep of her alarm turning on. She traces a finger over her lips. She’s smiling.