Page 127 of I’m The Worst

It was a mistake to ask…to start this conversation. Because the second he looks at me like that—all intense and unreadable—I feel my chest aching all over again.

“Besides,” I murmur, trying to force the tension back into something lighter, “I know you’re going to miss my stories.”

One of his hands slides slowly up my bare leg. Goosebumps erupt instantly across my skin.

“No one would miss your stories, solnyshko.”

His rough palm drags higher, pushing beneath the hem of his shirt I’m wearing. Heat curls low in my stomach.

“Liar. You love my stories.”

Fingers flexing harder against my thigh, he pulls me closer, forcing me between his legs.

“You talk too much.”

His mouth brushes against my stomach through the thin fabric of the t-shirt, and my breath catches as his hands move higher, spreading over my hips.

I know what he’s doing; he’s changing the subject. And the worst part is, I’ll let him. Because at least when he touches me, I don’t feel him pulling away.

“So do something about it.”

His grip tightens instantly.

“You and that fucking mouth. Always pushing. Always needing attention.”

A shaky breath leaves me when his hands smooth up my waist, cupping my breasts.

“Only from you.”

The second the words leave my mouth, something shifts in his expression. His forehead presses briefly against my stomach as his hands fall to my thighs.

“Don’t say shit like that, AJ.”

His head tilts back slowly, eyes locking onto mine, and something tightens painfully in my chest. I want to touch him. Drag my fingers through his damp hair, feel the rough scrape of his beard over my skin, trace every scar on his body.

I want him to look at me the way he did in that closet—like he couldn’t stop himself. Like I was something worth wanting despite everything that’s been done to me. Despite the scars. The bruises. The parts of me that feel ruined beyond repair.

His fingers slide higher up my inner thigh until his thumb presses along my core, rubbing me through the thin cotton of my panties. I shudder at the sensation, my hips jerking forward.

“Such a needy little thing.”

I gasp as he pushes the fabric aside, fingers gliding through my slickness. Hooking the waistband, he pulls my panties down my legs to the floor.

“Wolff…”

“Always so fucking ready for me.”

He suddenly grips my hips firmly and slides his body off the bed, yanking my hips toward his face. He lies back on the edge of the mattress, head tilted, staring up at me with hungry eyes.

“Ride my face.”

I swallow hard and shift my legs wider, my thighs trembling as I straddle his face. The second my knees hit the bed on either side of his head, he yanks me down, burying his mouth against my pussy.

A broken moan tears from my chest.

His tongue drags through my folds in one long, greedy stroke, licking from my entrance to my clit and back down again. He eats me like he’s starving, tongue pushing inside me, fucking me with deep, wet thrusts while his nose grinds against my clit.

My hands fly to the headboard to steady myself, head falling back as pleasure rolls through me.