𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

44 || All Mine

I make it up to her mid back before the tight fabric gets stuck and doesn't stretch past the back of her bra.

A frustrated, impatient sound escapes my throat. "It's not gonna fit. Change into another dress."

If it was up to me, I'd have her wearing a potato sac, preferably the ugliest one that covered her from everyone's eyes.

Jesus, what the fuck's wrong with me?

"I don't have my regular clothes here with me. These are all my old clothes. I..." She looks to the ground and her voice drops to a whisper. "It used to fit."

Since she's faced away from me and can't see me, I run a hand down the side of my face.

And now I feel like an asshole.

I never liked feeling like one, nor did I ever actually care enough to feel like an asshole around anyone else.

Only her.

"This piece of cloth looks like it was made to fit a fucking twelve year old. It'd be concerning if it did fit." I grit, beyond agitated.

There was nothing wrong with her and the thought of her thinking otherwise pissed me off.

But I had enough common sense, being around Bambi and her mother to know that the toxic shit coming out of that nut case, was fucking with her head.

It was fucking ridiculous how someone like her - perfect in every sense, was insecure. And that's coming from someone who likes to kill to fun.

She straightens out and although I can't see her face, I can sense a small smile on her lips and the way it makes me feel lighter pisses me the fuck off.

Fuck her, I didn't care.

She reaches behind her back and in one quick motion, unclasps her bra before somehow pulling it off without taking off the dress,

"There." She breathes, tossing the patch of red lace onto the bed. "Now try." And despite the boldness of her action, her voice is angelically sweet.

I cant tell if she did that on purpose or not.

Either way, my slacks tighten as my dick twitches and despite the whorish urge to fuck her, I quickly zip up the dress without so much as another word.

I step away from her, distance myself before I went and did something irrational.

Like tie her to my bed and fuck my anger out.

"Thank you." She turns around to face me, but my gaze naturally drifts downwards to her cleavage and the tight material of the dress. The knowledge of her lack of bra making it nearly impossible to look away. She had nice tits.

I wanted them in my face.

Her head slowly tips down and I don't have to follow her gaze to know that she's looking at the semi in my pants.

Fuck, this was bad.

She'd left me and wasn't planning on coming back, I wasn't going to fold now.