Title: The Devil Wears Reebok Pairing: Miranda/Andy (established) Rating: R-ish, depending upon how good your imagination is
DwP
"Come on Marty!" Miranda bellowed, unaware of the three pairs of eyes on her, widened incredulously.
Martin Brodeur, the New Jersey Devils' accomplished netminder, expertly turned away shot after shot from the Los Angeles Kings' offense, and each second that ticked by toward preventing an LA sweep of the Stanley Cup Finals seemed to raise Miranda's level of excitement even higher.
When the final horns blew indicating the end of the game -- confirming Brodeur's prowess in temporarily snatching victory from the jaws of defeat -- Miranda was positively glowing, her skin tinged a healthy pink and her eyes sparkling above a triumphant smirk.
The girls were stupefied, but Andy recognized a golden opportunity when she saw one. "Good game," she purred under her breath in Miranda's direction after they sank into the towncar's leather seats. Miranda didn't respond verbally, but when Andy saw her twist her neck and shiver, she knew she had Miranda's number.
DwP
Andy grinned devilishly as Miranda's body slackened against hers, the other woman's breaths coming in quick pants as she wound her arms and legs around the brunette and squeezed, seemingly unable to get close enough to her and letting her know in no uncertain terms that oh yeah, that had been phenomenal.
"So, Marty Brodeur, Miranda?" Andy asked, unable to keep the mirth from her tone.
The body atop hers stiffened for a moment, and feeling somewhat contrite about calling Miranda out on her crush, Andy flipped them over and lovingly swept the signature forelock away from the woman's eyes. "I should send him a gift basket, that was amazing," she breathed.
Miranda seemed to regain her equilibrium and took Andy surprise by flipping them back over, positioning herself atop the brunette again. "Oh, Andrea," she answered in a sultry tone that made Andy's mouth water. "Just imagine how good it will be when they win the Cup."
Pairing: Miranda/Andy (established)
Rating: R-ish, depending upon how good your imagination is
DwP
"Come on Marty!" Miranda bellowed, unaware of the three pairs of eyes on her, widened incredulously.
Martin Brodeur, the New Jersey Devils' accomplished netminder, expertly turned away shot after shot from the Los Angeles Kings' offense, and each second that ticked by toward preventing an LA sweep of the Stanley Cup Finals seemed to raise Miranda's level of excitement even higher.
When the final horns blew indicating the end of the game -- confirming Brodeur's prowess in temporarily snatching victory from the jaws of defeat -- Miranda was positively glowing, her skin tinged a healthy pink and her eyes sparkling above a triumphant smirk.
The girls were stupefied, but Andy recognized a golden opportunity when she saw one. "Good game," she purred under her breath in Miranda's direction after they sank into the towncar's leather seats. Miranda didn't respond verbally, but when Andy saw her twist her neck and shiver, she knew she had Miranda's number.
DwP
Andy grinned devilishly as Miranda's body slackened against hers, the other woman's breaths coming in quick pants as she wound her arms and legs around the brunette and squeezed, seemingly unable to get close enough to her and letting her know in no uncertain terms that oh yeah, that had been phenomenal.
"So, Marty Brodeur, Miranda?" Andy asked, unable to keep the mirth from her tone.
The body atop hers stiffened for a moment, and feeling somewhat contrite about calling Miranda out on her crush, Andy flipped them over and lovingly swept the signature forelock away from the woman's eyes. "I should send him a gift basket, that was amazing," she breathed.
Miranda seemed to regain her equilibrium and took Andy surprise by flipping them back over, positioning herself atop the brunette again. "Oh, Andrea," she answered in a sultry tone that made Andy's mouth water. "Just imagine how good it will be when they win the Cup."
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Thanks for the read.
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