Page 95 of I’m The Worst

“Don’t touch me.”

He goes back to devouring me, sucking my clit until I’m panting and trembling.

I’m so close already.

He feels it. His grip on my thighs turns bruising as he focuses on my clit, swirling and flicking and sucking until my eyes roll back.

“Come on my tongue. Be a good girl and soak my fucking face.”

The command sends me over the edge.

I come hard, screaming, my pussy clenching and pulsing against his mouth as waves of pleasure crash over me. He doesn’t stop—just keeps licking me through it, dragging every last shudder out of me until I’m shaking and oversensitive.

When he finally pulls back, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at me like he’s still deciding what to do with me next.

Then he stands.

“Turn around. Ass up.”

I turn and bend forward, forearms braced on the mattress, ass presented to him.

He moves to the edge of the bed, grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back just enough to force my mouth open. His cock slaps heavy against my lips once, then he pushes in deep, filling my throat in one rough thrust.

I choke instantly, eyes watering.

He doesn’t ease up. He fucks my mouth with short, ruthless strokes, his hips snapping forward while the grip in my hair keeps me exactly where he wants me.

“Fuck…that’s it. Take it all, every fucking inch.”

Tears spill down my cheeks as I struggle to breathe around him. He fucks my face harder, the wet, gagging sounds filling the room.

After a few minutes, he suddenly pulls out, breathing ragged, cock shiny with my spit.

“Don’t fucking move.”

He roughly presses between my shoulder blades and shoves my face down into the sheets, cheek pressed hard against the mattress. My ass is left raised high, completely exposed.

“Spread yourself.”

I hate this. My hands reach back, and I grab my ass cheeks, pulling them apart for him. The cool air hits, making me feel even more exposed, more humiliated, more like the worthless hole I’ve become.

He doesn’t fuck me.

He stands there, stroking his thick cock.

“Look at you. Spreading your asshole open. So eager to be used.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let go. I keep myself spread wide for him, hating how much I need this—how much I need him to use me, to make me feel something other than the empty void in my chest.

An agonizing thought slips in.

If I said “Jackal” right now…would he stop?

He’s not even fucking me. He’s just using me like a cheap toy, jerking off onto my ass. I could say the word. I could make him stop.

But I don’t.

Because last time I said the safeword, he stopped completely. He walked away and wanted nothing to do with me.