Itsy bitsy NSFW.
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Andrea couldn't relax. The closer the time to retire for the evening came, the more she found herself fiddling with whatever she was holding onto. And if she didn't have an object to occupy her restless hands, she plucked at her sleeves, necklace, or the cushion next to her on the couch.
Eventually, Miranda was bound to notice. Putting down her book, Miranda looked at her over her reading glasses, her eyebrows elevated. "Andrea. What on earth is the matter? You have not been able to settle down for the last few hours. All this plucking is starting to get on my nerves. Are you unwell?" Her initial annoyance changed into concern.
"I'm fine, Miranda. Really. Mm-hm. Nothing's wrong." Andrea clasped her hands on her lap. "Truly."
"Now I know something is the matter. You're never this fidgety." Miranda put a bookmark in her book and placed it on the side table on her side of the couch. Sliding closer, she took Andrea's hands between both of hers. "Please, can't you share what is unsettling you?"
Oh, no. Andrea knew she never should have spent three hours in the afternoon when the girls were in Central Park with Emily and Serena, drawing. She had been enthralled with her motive and surprised at how accurate her memory of every single, minute detail was etched in her mind.
"Andrea?" Miranda cupped her cheek, and the warmth of her hand, which had lost most of its rough texture from the hypothermia, made Andrea lean into the caress.
"I did something. And I should have asked you first." Andrea cast a glance toward the door, even if she knew that nobody would enter Miranda's private parlor or her bedroom, without announcing themselves.
"Oh?" Looking partly intrigued, partly apprehensive, Miranda moved even closer. Their legs touched and Andrea wondered if Miranda could tell the fine tremors in her body.
Of course, she could.
"Surely you do not fear me, Andrea?" Miranda asked quietly.
"No. No, of course not. I just don't want to ever disappoint you." Swallowing, Andrea hoped to clear her voice.
"Disappoint me?" Miranda smiled. "That could never happen unless it was sheer happenstance, and then I would eventually understand that. Why don't you just tell me and minimize your nervousness?"
Andrea wondered how it was that ever since she met Miranda in London, she had not been able to hide anything from her for exceptionally long. "I went ahead with the drawing." She peered over at Miranda, who looked entirely nonplussed.
"A drawing? Very well." Miranda looked like she expected a reply, but when Andy remained silent, she asked again. "What drawing, exactly?"
"I drew you," Andrea murmured, trying to keep her gaze steadily on Miranda.
"Yes. You've done that before. I don't mind." Miranda shrugged.
"This is different. Remember how you reacted when I drew you wearing your nightgown?" Andrea plucked at her sleeves but stopped when she saw Miranda's pointed look.
"I do. We resolved that." Muranda studied Andrea closely.
"This…is worse than that." Andrea looked up at the ceiling as if calling on some nameless deity. "Remember what you said two nights ago? When you suggested I draw you so you could color in where you have pain—or not?"
Miranda blinked. "That night when you had the worst nightmare so far. Yes. I do. I was being facetious—for the most part."
"The thing is, when I get an idea, whether as a facetious suggestion, or a genuine commission, it's as if my brain won't stop wanting to create it and give me some peace of mind." Andrea stopped talking as she didn't know what to say and tugged at her fingers, a familiar, nervous habit.
"May I see this drawing?" Miranda tilted her head, looking curious.
"Yes. Of course. If you think it's too much of an invasion, I'll rip it to shreds and we can just forget about it."
"Do you have it here?" Miranda looked around as if she expected the drawing to jump at her from a shadowy corner of the parlor.
"In my nightstand drawer. Just a moment." Andrea stood and hurried into the bedroom, but once she had her drawing in her hands, she couldn't move. This was a bad idea. Invasion of privacy. She should have torn up the drawing immediately. Or drawn a fictive character, a body of a faceless, nameless, woman.
Andrea heard Miranda's footfalls before she entered the bedroom.
"Andrea. This is getting ridiculous. It is only a drawing. Don't you trust me?"
"Of course I do," Andrea said quickly and then lowered her voice into another mutter. "Just not always myself." She handed Miranda the drawing.
Miranda stepped over to sit on the edge of the bed and switched on the nightstand lamp. Andrea joined her, as she didn't want any distance between them, no matter how Miranda would react.
"Oh, dear God," Miranda said, her lips parting. "Is this how you see me?" Her eyes darted to Andrea but returned quickly to the painting. The painting where she was reclining without a stitch on, in a suggestive, but not provocative, pose on a bed. Miranda's hair was loose and streamed all around her. "You drew this from memory."
It wasn't a question, but Andrea answered anyway. "I remember every single part of you. I know your body better than I know my own."
"You have made me look beautiful, but not so much that I don't recognize myself." Miranda ran a gentle fingertip along the drawing. "I could never color this in and mark my physical discomfort this way. You could have drawn a stick figure and that would have sufficed for that purpose. This is a work of art."
Andrea blinked at the reverent tone in Miranda's voice. After bracing for impact all day, Andrea slumped against Miranda. "I was so certain I had overstepped. I considered tearing it up, but how could I destroy a drawing of you? It's the only one I have now that all my previous artwork is…gone." She felt Miranda's arms around her. "I am a fool for missing something I drew, when so many people have lost their loved ones."
"No, not a fool. If you would be a fool, then so would I. I lost everything I had written after we left London. I at least have the pages I sent in a letter before we left for Southampton."
Andrea hadn't dared mention Miranda's book yet, as Miranda hadn't brought it up until now. "Can you rewrite it?"
"Yes. To some degree. I will probably start writing some notes by hand tomorrow until Mr. Ferris can order me a new typewriter. No doubt it will take me a while to break it in. A typewriter can be very special and different from other typewriters. Like people. And listen," Miranda said softly. "You will draw new pieces of art, and when you find the motives that speak to you, perhaps you will even try your hand at painting. You can't waste your talent, darling. That, if anything, would be foolish."
Andrea buried her face against Miranda's neck. "So, you think I should draw you a stick figure?"
Miranda chuckled. "No, Andrea. Even I can do that. And I'm not as rigid as I was, and my level of pain has dropped the last two days as well. I can feel tightness in my legs, but other than that, I'm truly on the mend." She paused and surprised Andrea by pulling pins from her hair. "As my hands and arms are free of pain, I think I need to take care of you, since you have been nervous for hours today. That can't be good for your health."
"What do you mean?" Andrea closed her eyes at the wonderful feeling of Miranda's fingers in her hair.
"You have had less violent nightmares the last two nights, and I fear that if you go to be with some of this stress that you have been under regarding the drawing, it might exacerbate your dreams. I simply suggest that you allow me to fawn over you a little. I have missed that."
Andrea wasn't sure what 'fawn over you' entailed, but if it was anything as lovely as the sensation of Miranda undoing her hair, then so be it. "You can do anything you want, Miranda," she murmured.
"Now there's an enticing thought." Miranda hummed. "I think it is time to retire for the evening. I will ring on Emily and let her know that we won't need her tonight. It's better if she and Serena look after the girls. After all, it took us reading three chapters of their favorite book before they settled down."
Miranda rose and walked out into the parlor. After a few moments, Emily knocked on the door, and Andrea heard Miranda speak to her, but didn't pay attention to what she was saying. When she returned, Andrea sat in the same position, not having had the energy, or desire, to move.
"Come. Let me help you." Miranda held out her hands and it was as if Andrea's body indeed could function when prompted. She stood and joined Miranda in the center of the floor. She felt deft fingers unhook the clasps of her dress and begin to pull it off her. Her slip, chemise, and underwear went the same way and then a white cotton nightgown came over her head.
"You're very cooperative," Miranda murmured as she pulled Andrea into her arms. "Now, tell me, is there anything else you need to keep the stress of today away?"
"This feels wonderful," Andrea said and held Miranda gently, afraid of inadvertently hurting her.
"I think I can do better than this," Miranda purred into Andrea's ear. "If you will allow me?"
"Mm? Better?" Andrea began to realize she hadn't paid attention from the start and now had no idea what Miranda was talking about. "What do you have in mind?"
"Didn't you just say I can do anything I want?" Miranda tugged Andrea to the bed. "Either way, why don't you unhook my dress, and then crawl into bed? I'll just get ready for bed and then I'll be back."
"Of course," Andrea said and helped Miranda unbutton her dress. As Miranda walked toward the ensuite, Andrea crawled into bed and settled down against the pillows. This was something that normally would have made her relax, but after suffering from nightmares for several nights, she was indeed experiencing stress.
Miranda returned after a few minutes, and she too had her hair loose.
"Do you want me to braid your hair?" Andrea asked as Miranda slid into bed.
"No, not tonight." Miranda moved close enough for their bodies to touch. "I was giving carte blanch, I believe."
"Regarding what?" Andrea knew she had lost the thread of the conversation again.
"Of helping you reduce the stress. And I confess that I'm not being as altruistic as I sound. I have longed to touch you, caress you, for days now. I'm about to combust from not being able to caress you the way I want to."
Andrea could hear the penny drop in her mind. "Ah." Her cheeks warmed and she could only look up at Miranda who looked like a fairy creature with her long, white hair billowing around her.
"Finally, you catch on." Miranda smiled. "And now that you know exactly what I mean, will you allow me to caress you? Or is it too soon?"
"I said…anything." Andrea was already trembling. She had pored over the drawing for hours, and drawing Miranda how she saw her when they were alone together, and vulnerable and passionate with each other…perhaps that was why she was so on edge too? It might not have been only nervousness for what Miranda might think of her nude drawing, but…arousal?"
"God, Andrea…" Miranda placed her hand around Andrea's cheek and bent to kiss her. She didn't linger very long with the sweet, chaste kisses, but parted Andrea's lips and deepened it with a hunger that found its echo in Andrea.
Andrea responded the only way possible, with her heart and soul infusing the passionate love she felt for Miranda. Perhaps she startled Miranda as she gasped against Andrea's lips and the hand she held against Andrea's face slipped down along her neck.
"Mm." Andrea ran her tongue along Miranda's slowly, hypnotically, and then Miranda's hand was on her right breast. Arching into the touch, Andrea tried to murmur her words into Miranda's mouth.
"What, darling?" Miranda whispered and lifted her head.
"I want your touch on my skin," Andrea repeated.
"Very well." Miranda reached under the covers and pulled at Andrea's nightgown. Andrea helped willingly and lifted her hips off the bed. After tugging the nightgown over her head, Andrea rolled toward Miranda. "Where can I touch you? I'm afraid of hurting you."
"Tonight is not about me that way." Miranda kissed her again. "I want to touch you, caress you, make you feel good, and that will be my reward."
Andrea studied Miranda's darkening blue eyes and knew she was telling the truth. Miranda was just as aroused as Andrea, and this was from longing to make love to her.
Soon, Miranda's hand found Andrea's breast again and it was as if they had made love yesterday. So familiar, so breathtakingly arousing, Andrea felt the dampness between her legs coat her thighs.
"Tell me what you want," Miranda whispered as she rolled Andrea's nipple between her fingers.
"Pull…" Andrea could barely believe that she dared voice what she wanted but knew it was because she was with Miranda, who loved her.
Miranda tugged at her nipple, and when she had done so a few times, she slipped further down the bed and took it in her mouth. Sucking the hard nipple in between her teeth, she used them to tug at it, over and over.
Andrea whimpered and squirmed under the massive onslaught on her senses. Arrows of pleasure shot from her nipple, and then also the other as Miranda moved her mouth over to it, and kept pinching and tugging at the one she just abandoned.
When Andrea's nipples felt raw to the touch, she pressed a hand over Miranda's, to stop her. "Too sensitive."
"Poor thing," Miranda purred and blew against the wet, aching nipples. "And you are close, aren't you, darling?"
"Yes," Andrea said, her voice barely audible.
"Pull your right leg up and give me room." Miranda pushed her hand down between them where they lay on their sides so close to each other.
Andrea pulled her leg up, but wasn't sure if she could rest it against Miranda's hip. As if Miranda could read her mind, she gripped Andrea's leg behind her knee and pulled it up over her waist. "Keep it there. It doesn't hurt me." Then she pushed her hand down between them again and cupped Andrea's folds. "Oh, my…Andrea… so wet," Miranda's voice sounded strangled. "No wonder you're close."
"S-so close." Andrea was already feeling the flutters inside at Miranda's light touch. "I want you to go inside." She was too aroused to feel self-conscious about being blunt about her needs.
"So be it." Miranda pushed several fingers inside her and Andrea felt so full, so stretched, she wailed quietly as she turned her head into the pillow. "Miranda…"
Miranda curled her fingers and pushed firmly against that spot inside Andrea that made her legs tremble even harder. When Miranda pressed her thumb against Andrea's aching ridge of nerves, it was as if a tidal wave rushed over her. Fumbling for Miranda, she pulled her up to kiss her, and even then, Miranda kept her caresses going between her legs, thrusting her fingers in and out, all the time pushing at that spot Andrea had been oblivious to before.
When Andrea's orgasm hit a second time, right after the first, she cried out, and then began sobbing against Miranda's shoulder, while whispering, "Don't stop…oh, please, don't stop…"
And Miranda listened. She kept up the thrusts, the caresses, and holding Andrea close until she melted into the embrace. Only then, did Andrea realize that Miranda's breathing was catching with each expansion of her ribcage.
"Miranda…you are right on the edge…"
"Yes." Miranda gasped for air. "I…just watching you…I…Oh, God…"
Andrea acted without thinking. She was so lethargic, that she could barely move but managed to reach down and tug Miranda's nightgown up just far enough to push her index finger in between her legs. Miranda was so slick, that Andrea found her clitoris instantly. The mere pressure of her finger against it was enough for Miranda to cry out sharply and then her shudders came in wave after wave.
They remained still until Andrea managed to pull her leg down from Miranda's waist. Half asleep already, she smoothed down Miranda's nightgown and tucked them in under the covers.
"I love you," Miranda whispered.
"And I love you, Miranda." Andrea barely relaxed against the pillows before sleep claimed her.
Continued in part 24
