Page 19 of House of Cards

But suppress it as I might, a feral thought still claws its way through years of self-discipline.

What will her mouth taste like, tangy with blood and fear…?

She has no idea how much restraint it takes not to lean forward and bite those plump lips. But she must see something unpleasant in my eyes, because her eyelashes flutter, and the fight bleeds out of her inch by inch.

I watch as she wilts under my stare, burning the sight into my memory for later.

What I wouldn’t give to watch her crumble like this as I slowly tighten the grip on her throat while I’m inside her, filling her with my seed.

“I owe someone a lot of money,” she mutters, defiance flaring one last time before she looks down, lashes shading her eyes.

I’m reluctant to release her throat, but I do it knowing that this isn’t the last opportunity I’ll have to discipline her.

This isn’t about scratching an itch. Wanting satisfaction.

Ineedto break her.

This isn’t about attraction. It’s about control, power, and discipline.

Zoey doesn’t know it yet, but she’s just reached a crossroads…and this devil’s about to make a deal with her.

Zoey

My hands are clammy with sweat, my thighs practically glued together with the stuff. The heat causing it is internal and external, coming in waves every time this man’s eyes skate down my body.

I try to keep myself decent, but that leaves me absolutely defenseless.

Like now, when he runs the flat of his knife blade down my face and along my jaw. I could fend him off, but at the risk of losing what little dignity I have left.

I have to get out here.

“People know I’m here,” I lie. “They’ll come looking if I don’t get home soon.”

“If you had people, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Fucking asshole.

Goosebumps break out over her skin when he traces the tip of the knife from my collarbone down to my belly.

“No,” he muses. “I don’t think anyone’s coming for you, kitten.” His voice drops to a dark, throaty rumble. “I bet no one even knows you’re here.”

My jaw tightens when his intense dark eyes settle on me again, desperate to stop my teeth from chattering as he teasesthe knife along the hem of my underwear. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I spotted him watching me at the blackjack table.

That whole thing about eyes meeting across a crowded room? Works for psychopaths too. I felt that charge when our gazes locked.

Buzzcut didn’t make me half this scared, and he had a gun and a knife on him.

No more bluffing. I need to negotiate.

“My chips are still on that table. Let me go, and they’re yours.”

The perpetual crease between his brows deepens. “You disrespect my casino, you disrespect me. I’ve killed men for less.”

My chest closes at the dangerous tone in his voice, squeezing my heart until it feels ready to burst.

But if he wants to kill me, he’s going to have to get in line.

The morning after Buzzcut broke into my apartment, I should have gotten on the first bus out of town and just kept going. But I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving everything behind. It’s a shitty life, sure, but it’smine.