Page 41 of House of Cards

“I’m just your pussy-for-hire. Stop pretending that you care,” I snap, furious that my body is switching on in all the wrong ways.

How can just thinking about him laying his hands on me make my clit tingle? Could be the way his cock was digging into me the whole time. I swear, he uses that thing like a fucking weapon.

This guy is such a head trip.

Ridiculously smart and obviously well educated. Tall. Devastatingly handsome, but in an approachable way.Deceptivelyapproachable.

Clark Kent’s smile. Lex Luthor’s mind.

I should be plotting ways to escape this psycho, not memorizing the way his hands felt on my skin. Not trying to figure out how to piss him off just enough so he’ll lay his hands on me again without killing me.

“Of course I care. It speaks to motivation,” he says dryly.

“You a lawyer now?”

“Please,” he says, layering disgust over the word. “I’m an accountant.”

I let out an eighty-percent-dark-chocolate laugh. I can’t fucking help it. I mean…an accountant who spanks women into submission?

But my mirth cuts off the moment Smith’s eyes darken.

“Forget it.” I slide my hands over the silky fabric covering my thighs. I should shut the hell up, but now that he’s finally talking to me, I want to get as much info out of him as possible. Even if that means being polite.

“If at all possible, m’lord, could you kindly tell me what to expect when we get to the club?”

“I’ll make you a deal, kitten.” Smith gives me an unpleasant smile as he fingers his fork wound through his shirt. “Tell me what you need the money for, and I’ll explainin detailwhat my client will require from you.”

Needed. Past tense, sucker.

I should feel relieved knowing the sword hanging above my head dropped…and I wasn’t even under it. But I’m struggling to process anything right now.

“Deal?” Smith prompts.

“Fuck it. Who doesn’t love surprises?” I say, waving my hand to appear unfazed.

Only one side of his mouth stays quirked up, a very sinister look on someone as stupidly handsome as him. “The people I surprise, usually.”

“You don’t scare me, m’lord, and neither do your ‘clients.’” I put the last in air quotes.

Smith’s gaze drops to my lap and then slowly climbs its way back up my body, pausing briefly on my mouth. Every shred of courage in my chest evaporates.

“Let me know if you still feel the same when one of them is splitting open your ass while another gags you with his cock and uses your tears for lube.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

My ass cheeks clench in self-defense, but at the same time a hard pulse shoots through my clit.

I hate his dirty mouth.

I hatehim.

But if he puts his hands on me one more time, I don’t know if I’ll fight to get away...or fight to make him stay.

He scans my face, lets out a sardonic huff like he thinks he’s successfully terrified me, and goes back to doing whatever he’s busy with on his phone.

“One more thing, Zoey.”

How is it worse when he uses my name instead of calling me kitten?