Chapter 1
Lying on the thousand-count Egyptian cotton bed sheets, Andy sighed. It was nearly ten. It was just like Miranda to keep Andy waiting. The house was eerily quiet and dark. Andy had not dared to turn on any of the lights, particularly not in the master bedroom. She had stripped quickly as bolts of arousal had coursed through her body, settling like tight coils in her core. She thought of touching Miranda, of being touched by Miranda, and smelled the proof of her excitement even as she crossed her legs to stem the flow of moisture.
As time passed and Andy's eyes continually sought out the alarm clock's declaration of time, Andy became agitated. Where was she? Why was she not here? Was she making some point? Upset, the coils of anticipation turned into a lead ball in her belly, pulling her down toward an abyss of despondency. Miranda was making a point here—Andy was nothing to her, just a plaything she could abuse any way she wanted. Andy wished she could just get up and leave. She knew she wouldn't, though. She would not give up even the slimmest chance of knowing what it felt like to be held by Miranda. That truth sickened her, but there it was.
Hearing the delicate clacking of high heels below, Andy tensed with the knowledge that Miranda was home. A cacophony of thoughts flooded through Andy's brain: Did I hear her correctly this morning? Did she really want me to be naked in her bed, waiting for her? She didn't actually mention the bed—maybe she should stand up. Andy watched, eyes wide as the doorknob slowly turned and the door swung inward. A light in the hall cast Miranda completely in shadow. Andy trembled as she futilely searched the darkened face for any clue as to what the next moments would bring. The looming shape stalked in to the room, closing the door. Andy could distinguish Miranda's dim form blotting the surrounding area, but not by much.
The sudden flick of the switch caused Andy to raise a hand to shield her face from the sudden, bright light. Miranda swept the blood-colored duvet off of Andy's body, baring her to sharp eyes. Andy held her breath as Miranda trailed her gaze from head to toe and back in a thorough circuit. She noticed that Miranda seemed indifferent, as if she were reading about the weather after already hearing it on the radio. Andy remained still, not daring to breathe too loudly or call attention to her insecurities or interrupt Miranda's mental process.
"You thought I didn't know," Miranda murmured. "You are not very subtle." Miranda's soft voice sent a chill down Andy's spine. "Staring at me every day as if I were some juicy steak you wished to devour. You have wanted me for a long time. A very long time."
Andy lay quietly, knowing better than to interrupt. She swallowed every word, thirsty for even this type of humiliating attention, this calm, calculated recital of Andy's inability to keep her desires hidden.
"You would love for me to touch you, I suppose." Miranda sat on the edge of the bed as her eyes zeroed in on Andy's breasts, hardened by her proximity, her fear, the cool air, and the unknown.
"It's funny, really. Comical, in fact. I do so love a good fuck, but I have not experienced that pleasure in quite a while. Do you know what I really love, Andrea? What really turns me on?" Miranda raised an eyebrow, as if daring Andy to presume she'd know. Andy stared at her silently. Miranda smirked. "I love to slide up and down on a great, big, wet, hard cock. I love to slide it in and out of me, nearly pulling it out of me completely, before jamming myself back on it fully. I love tilting my hips as the head scrapes against me maddeningly while I control the speed, the rhythm, and the timing of my orgasm. And when I am ready, I squeeze that cock with my inner muscles and allow the worthless wretch to come. Only when I am ready, though. No one would dare come before I allowed it. And I love that feeling of control."
Andy felt turned on by Miranda's words and disgusted, too. Yet, she could visualize Miranda riding toward her orgasm, in control and magnificent as she used her partner to garner her release. She could imagine that body rolling on that dick, reveling in the physicality without opening up to the emotions Andy always associated with making love. Miranda made it very clear that she loved to fuck, though. And she knew Andy wanted to fuck her.
"Do you really think you are worthy? That you would ever have the pleasure of touching me, stroking me, licking me?" Andy looked into mocking eyes. "I am not heartless, however." Miranda's dulcet tones, combined with an undercurrent of amusement and sarcasm grated Andy's heart into little, shredded pieces. "I have allowed you here in my bed as a reward for your loyalty and your misplaced affections. I will not touch you, but I expect you will touch yourself. For me."
Blinking rapidly, Andy tried to make sense of what Miranda was saying. Miranda was not going to touch her. She was not going to allow Andy to touch her. They were not going to make love, or have sex, or fuck. Miranda preferred men. She felt disdain for Andy. She felt Andy was unworthy.
But she had invited Andy into her bed and was giving her the opportunity to masturbate in front of Miranda. While she watched. Even though she felt nothing but contempt for her affections.
Staring into blazing eyes, Andy finally saw it: the challenge. Maintaining the stare, Andy thrust two fingers into her soaking channel and moaned at the burn. She began to move her hips while silently daring Miranda to look away. She didn't. Andy pulled her legs apart more, bending at the knees as she tweaked a hardened nipple and pulled at it punishingly. She saw Miranda's face twitch, but that smooth veneer remained in place. Moaning louder, Andy twisted her other nipple as she sped up her movements. Still, she held that stare, noticing Miranda's challenging look had disappeared.
No longer able to hold out, Andy rubbed against her clit, circling and pressing to the side as she thrust harder, deeper. Although her eyelids fluttered from the feeling, Andy kept her eyes open and locked on Miranda, whose chest rose and fell a little quicker. With a growl, Andy claimed her orgasm, and she was gratified to see Miranda jump just a little at the sound as pink tinged her cheeks. Andy drew out the release, continuing to thrust and circle until her body felt like melted butter. Only then did she withdraw and take deep breaths while she watched Miranda from lowered lashes.
"You can see yourself out," Miranda said before leaving the room.
Andy closed her eyes, tempted to fall asleep. She didn't though. Sluggishly, she rose from the bed and entered the bathroom to wash up. Returning to the bedroom, Andy pulled on her clothes and looked around one last time. She doubted she would ever have the opportunity to be in it again.
With a sigh, Andy descended the stairs and left the house. She did not attempt to find Miranda. What would she say? She had been given a choice, and she had made it. With a small smile, Andy's walk became jauntier. No matter how much she liked big cocks, Miranda had not able been able to hide how much she had liked watching Andy, too.