Page 148 of House of Cards

“That price is breaking you one last time.”

She trembles when I drag my zipper down. I expect her to say something, but she’s silent.

No, not silent.

I can hear her panting. Soft and steady. The sound growing harsher as I give her ass another squeeze, pausing briefly as I slap her again.

I’m torn between staring at her bruised ass as I give her another few slaps, and watching the pain flinch over her face with each blow. Both have me desperate to be inside her already, so I can feel her flinching around my cock.

“I want to hear you beg for my cock like it’s oxygen.”

There’s enough give on the belt that she can breathe. But not enough for her to escape, and barely enough for her to rasp out, “Fuck you,” in answer.

She could have struggled when I shift my weight, sinking my knees between her legs, keeping her pussy accessible.

But she doesn’t.

She watches me over her shoulder, her cheek pressed to the bare mattress, lips parted, face flushed.

Christ, she’s enjoying this.

That usually takes all the fun out of it.

But this feels different. Fuck knows why.

I rain down another five slaps, knowing it’s not punishment anymore, but still needing to get it out of my system. Her eyes flutter shut when I swipe my hand over her pussy, and there’s a clench of frustration in my chest when I feel how wet she is.

But when my fingers glide up, stroking her tight little asshole, those eyes of her pop open.

“What are you doing?” she whispers breathlessly. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I chuckle.

I fuckingchuckle.

Then I glance down and spit, hitting her right on her puckered hole. I hear a sound from her that might have been a groan, but muffled, as if she’s biting down on her lip to suppress it.

“You broke something of mine, kitten. Only fair I break something of yours.”

“What about my shoulder, you freak?” she blurts out.

I press my thumb to her hole, lubricating it with my spit as I drag my cock out of my trousers. Every stroke makes her tremble harder, but she’s not pulling away, barely even struggling.

“You’ll be fine. It’s not even dislocated. If it was, you’d be too busy sobbing in pain to have this conversation.”

“You’re so proud of keeping yourself on a tight leash, aren’t you?” she goads me.

“I was, kitten. I was. But you don’t deserve that kindness anymore.” I grab my cock and press it against her tight, slippery hole.

“You’re not even a person to me. You’re ahole. A warm, wet hole I’m going to fuck raw until you forget your own name.”

I lick my lips, my jaw immediately clenching shut, changing my voice into a low, angry mutter.

“Until all you know is the taste of my come, the sting of my belt, the way your throat clicks when I choke you mid-scream.”

Zoey gasps as I push into her, the sound immediately branded into my mind.

“Until all you know isme.”