Page 231 of House of Cards

But when I smear my fingers over her bloodied thigh, and trace wavy red lines over her inner thigh, and push those fingers inside her pussy, she’s soaked.

Undeniably turned on.

I pump my fingers inside her, taking one last nip at her knee before dragging my tongue down her thigh. She moans, her hands flying to my hair, not pushing me away but pulling me closer to the weeping cuts in her flesh.

Wanting it.

Needingit.

I lick the newest cut, applying enough pressure to make it sting.

“Fuck…” I hear myself rasp.

Something breaks loose inside me. A dam rupturing, flooding me with sensations I’ve never allowed myself to feel. This goes beyond the satisfaction of a good caning, beyond the power of domination.

This is primal.

Religious in its intensity.

I’m lost.

So completely fucking lost.

I said no sex, and I meant it. But Zoey’s pussy is so warm, so wet, so fucking inviting…a mere mortal like me doesn’t stand a chance at resisting.

Pushing up my hips, I tug down my sweats and free my cock. It slaps the inside of her thigh—hard, heavy.

“Yes,” she moans. “Please fuck me.”

“That what you want, baby?”

I keep one hand on her thigh, fingers slippery with her blood, the other wrapped around my cock, stroking it. Still waging a battle of wills, trying to collect myself.

Fuck reason.

Fuck sanity.

Zoey is mine, and Iwillclaim what’s mine.

Claim, ravage, destroy.

But not like this.

She’ll watch my cock splitting her open.

And tomorrow, when she’s out of my life, that image will be seared into her mind. She’ll think of me every time she touches herself. And when some asshole wants to touch her, wants to fuck her, she’ll reject him because I’ll have ruined her for any other man.

She’s mine.

If I can’t have her, no one fucking can.

Zoey

If this is what doing drugs feels like, my heart goes out to junkies everywhere.Iwouldn’t be able to quit.

A delicious, effervescent fog wreathes my mind. Thoughts come and go, but they’re just vague shapes, no form or substance, drowned out by the warm sizzle on my thigh. The ache deep inside my core. My tingling clit.

All because he cut me a few times? Doesn’t make sense.