"I fucking hate you." I growl, my fists balling at my sides as I restrain from punching his perfect face.
He grins, his snowy hair falling in his eyes as he advances me, his irises glistening with mischief. "Oh, yeah? Come on, Florence. Show me just...
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Chapter Eight
"Oh my god." I shoot up in my bed, my hands brushing my sweaty strands of hair away from my face and gripping the roots painfully. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god" My voice comes out in a squeak as I stumble out of bed, rushing to my bathroom.
"Nope," Immediately, I turn the shower on and hop on the toilet, hesitantly glancing at my underwear. "Fuck!"
So—you see? I, uh—
"Jesus Christ." I groan and drop my head in my hands once again. "Shower. Cold, cold shower."
That is it. The demons are trying to get to me and—oh! When Jessie called me her demon shitty fucking thing a few days ago, that just got in my head and then I got pissed at Miah and that must be it. It has to be.
I jump up and strip, hopping into the cool shower. My head tilts back and my eyes stay wide open—I'm wide fucking awake.
"You're disgusting, Maeve." I murmur to myself and grab my shampoo, lathering my dark hair up.
My shower is quick and calculated. I was a woman on a mission.
Grabbing the towel off of the shower thingy, I wrap it around my body and hold it closely to my chest as I stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are wide and my chest heaves, my cheeks taunting a deep red.
"You did not just have a sex dream about Miah Black." I state to myself, my finger pointing and shoving itself into the mirror harshly. "I would fucking murder you if you did."
I look slowly down my body, my heel tapping impatiently as I just stare at myself. Sighing, I walk out of my bathroom and decide to get dressed.
Okay, I am going to wear something that will boost my confidence and make me forget about the Miah sex dream. I will focus on my sexy ass.
A skirt? Fuck yeah.
I grab some emerald green lingerie to wear underneath my clothes and get started.
Top: a white crop top with a cut black bra that I call a corset. Over top is a flimsy black zip up jacket that I just have for something extra.
Middle (I fucking guess) : fishnet tights, a black skater skirt—the top of the fishnets stick out over top and cover most of my stomach.
Bottom (just go with it) : my go-to black DocMartens.
"Fuck." I spit out and walk over to my mirror, kneeling in front of it.
Bringing my phone up, I place one hand between my spread thighs and lean forward, pressing my cleavage up. My flash blurs the photo for a moment before it just covers my face.
I send the photo to Jessie and ask her if it's okay. She proceeds to tell me all of the ways she would fuck me and that seems to boost my confidence.
