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She Wasn't Wearing a Bra

Reply to FehrlyConscious

Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list January 20, 2003

Title: She Wasn't Wearing a Bra
Rating: NC-17 PWP
Pairing: Isabel/Maria
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Roswell.
Spoilers: Drop this is the middle of Season 2

        She wasn't wearing a bra.

        I could see her nipples poking through the garish turquoise uniform. I bet Michael loved it when she didn't wear a bra. I know I did.

        "Isabel." She said my name slowly as she opened the door to Michael's apartment.

        "Hi, Michael home?" I ask even though I know he's not and won't be for awhile.

        "Uh’§|No," she stammers and I realize how uncomfortable I make her.

        "Oh, can I come in and wait?" I step inside the threshold and smile brilliantly.

        She stepped aside and let me in. I walked past her into the kitchen and fixed myself a glass of ice water before I sat down at the table. She walked around nervously and I watched her. I watched the way her hips swayed in her nervous pace, the way her nipples pressed against her uniform.

        "So’§|" She looked as me as I slipped off the blazer I was wearing over a T-shirt. I saw her eyes linger on my breasts and I bet she was thinking how glad she was Michael wasn't here. I didn't wear a bra either and my nipples were straining against the confines of thin cotton.

        "So’§|" I mimicked her with a smile and then touched one of my nipples through the T-shirt. I felt the electricity in my groin and I began to roll the hardness between my forefinger and thumb. She watched me for a few seconds then turned away red-faced.

        "What are you doing?" her words were clipped.

        "Turn around and see," I said coyly and lifted my shirt above my breasts. I teased my nipples with my fingers and willed her to turn back around. I was growing wet in-between my legs.

        Maria looked over her shoulder for a second then turned back around to face the sink. I stood up and walked to her, standing only inches in back of her and reached around. I cupped her breasts through the cheap poly-blend and felt her tense.

        "Isabel," she whispered but didn't move. God, I loved the way she said my name.

        I unbuttoned her top and slid my hands over her bare breasts. Perfect handfuls. She didn't budge as I kneaded her flesh and pulled and twisted those rosy nipples until they were harder than I bet they ever have been before. I let her uniform fall and gather at her waist and pressed my breasts into her back and sighed. She didn't fight me when my hands glided down her abdomen and pushed her uniform down from her waist and let it fall to the floor in a puddle around her feet. My hands took control and were instantly on her red silky panties; my fingertips inching their way underneath the elastic, already feeling the heat radiate from her.

        I let my fingers tease her, and then without warning, the panties were gone and Maria DeLuca was nude in front of me. My wetness was seeping through my pants. With one hand I reached in front of her and slid my finger into her bare folds. She was so wet it slid right in.

        She was so smooth against my knuckle, I should have guessed she shaved herself. The seam in my pants was rubbing against my clit and I wanted to come. Oh God, I wanted to come. Not yet. After Maria.

        My other hand reached around and fondled her breast. My finger rubbing circles on her distended clit. She parted her legs and I could hear her panting. Or maybe that was me. Maybe it was both of us.

        I kept my finger tip on her clit and hastened my movement. Her pelvis swung in slow circles. I was coming. I couldn't help myself. Then so did she. I felt her body shiver. Ripple, as I moved my finger away from her pussy. I gave her nipple one last pinch before I backed away from her. I wanted out of these pants, but that would have to wait. I accomplished what I had intended. I made Maria DeLuca come.

        She turned around slowly and looked at me. Looking confused yet content. Standing nude in Michael's kitchen, Maria DeLuca was beautiful. I pulled my shirt down over my breasts and picked up my blazer. Without a word I turned and walked away from her and out of the apartment.

        All because she wasn't wearing a bra.


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