Page 171 of I’m The Worst

The word sends heat rushing through me. I hate how much I love it.

“Let. Me. Go. Wouldn’t want to keep your date waiting.”

He finally pulls his hand from my mouth, but his hold on my waist stays iron tight. Pushing me back against the cold marble counter, he cages me with his body. The bottle slips from my fingers and skitters across the floor.

“Are you jealous, AJ?”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous?”

His eyes drop to my lips. “Is that why you ran?”

“Get off me.”

His hand slides under my dress, fingers brushing my bare thigh. My body betrays me instantly—heat floods between my legs, nipples tightening against the silk.

“You’re such a goddamn bastard.”

“Why? Because you don’t want me to feel how fucking soaked this cunt is for me already?” His mouth hovers over my neck as his fingers move higher, brushing the edge of my panties. I have to bite my lip not to moan. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you right here.”

I should say no. I should shove him away and walk out of here.

Grabbing the front of his suit, I yank his mouth down to mine. The kiss is desperate and messy. With a groan, his tongue shoves into my mouth, and I meet it with equal ferocity, biting and licking like I’m trying to devour him.

He hikes up my dress, exposing my ass, and spins me around. My hands slap against the marble sink as he kicks my legs wider.

“Please, Wolff. I need you.”

Gripping the back of my neck, he forces my head down. “Begging now?”

I try to look up at him in the mirror, but his grip tightens, keeping my face against the cold marble. His spit lands hot on my asshole. I jolt as the thick head of his cock presses against my tight ring.

“Did you think I was going to give you the easy way?” Another thick glob of spit coats his cock. “You think you deserve my cock in your pussy after biting me, you little brat?”

His cock pushes forward with slow, brutal pressure, stretching me open around his thick shaft.

My fingers slip on the counter as I try to wriggle. It’s too much; he’s too big. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t give me time to adjust.

When I start to scream, his palm slams over my mouth. “Not a fucking sound.”

Tears blur my vision as he drives deeper, inch by thick inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. His hand stays clamped over my mouth as his other grips my hip hard enough to bruise as he starts to thrust.

Slowly at first.

Then harder.

Faster.

Every brutal movement sends shock waves of pain and pleasure ripping through me. The slick, filthy sounds of his cock pounding into me fill the bathroom. His ragged breathing is hot against my ear as he fucks me like he hates me.

I whimper against his palm, my mind going blank. My body pulses desperately around him, needing more even as it hurts.

“Your needy little cunt is fucking soaked, isn’t it? I’m buried balls-deep in your ass while your fiancé is in the next room.”

I hate his words. I hate how true they are. I hate how they make my pussy clench around nothing, arousal dripping down my thighs while he takes my ass like he owns it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, barely breathing through the shame and overwhelming need.

“Shove your fingers in your cunt. I want you to feel my cock stretching your ass while you fuck yourself.”