Malignant [h.s]

Twenty Eight

Harry Styles

My hands lock on the wet material of her shirt that clings to her body. I watch her face as it shows no change in expression. Why isn't she stopping me? This girl doesn't even like to have her midsection exposed.

I slowly pull the shirt up and over her head slowly, revealing her tanned skin and black bra. It's a simple piece of black material, but fuck does it ever make her look good.

I drop the white shirt to the ground and watch her face to see if she changes at all. I know she will not let me strip her down completely, so when I almost get to that point- she will have to say something to me. This silence shit is getting out of hand now, she isn't screwed up- she is just being stubborn.

I feel like this is slowly turning into some sick twisted game. All I want her to do is say something to me, their is no reason why she shouldn't be talking to me other then to just be angry.

I try by best not to stare at her tits, but it was so fucking hard. They looks so naturally perky and shit, almost spilling out of her bra.

I dry off her exposed skin with the towel, avoiding her tits because I know I'll just be tempting myself even more, and I really can't do that. So I dry off her shoulders, her neck, midsection, back and arms.

I glance at her face to see if her expression changes at all but it just stays exactly the same; monotone- almost like she doesn't have a care in the world.

I reach for the band of her black tights and curl my fingers around the sides. My hands start to pull down the wet material, causing me to kneel down. I peer up at her face and see her stand there still emotionless. God damn I thought she would have said something by now.

I pull her tights to her ankles and lift her foot one by one out of them. I throw them with her shirt and look up at her to see if any expression has changed, but of course nothing has.

I take the towel and dry her fragile tanned legs, moving the towel up slowly to her thighs, drying one right after the other.

I stand back to my feet and run the towel up her back. I look at her fatigued eyes and realize how small her pupils were. Why were they so small? Pupils get small with light but this bathroom was dimly lit. So why were they so contracted? It kind of worries me but I'm sure it's nothing.

I throw the towel over my one shoulder and slide off her bra straps, grabbing her arm and curling them out of the straps. My hands run up her bare arms and shoulders while the remainder of the bra still stays across her chest.

I take the towel off of my shoulder then proceed to wrap it around her, under her arms and tucking it so it doesn't fall. I reach my hands to the back of her towel where the opening crease is, and slide my hands under it to unclasp the bra.

I pull it out of the back of the towel and throw it to the ground where all of her other clothes lay.

Even though she hasn't stopped me, she never gave me the consent to see here total naked body. So as much as I'd like to see it- I can't. It's probably better for my imagination anyway, it keeps me wondering.

So I can strip her down without even seeing anything. That way she doesn't feel vulnerable and I don't feel like I took advantage of her in her weak mental state. Seeing her naked would just make me want to fuck her even more- so it's just better this way.