Page 93 of House of Cards

I speed up, tamping down a moan at the desperate, wet smack of my fingers against my pussy lips.

“Don’t hide those pathetic little noises,” Smith says, pausing with his fist throttling the head of his cock. “We both know you’re just a cheap cocksleeve.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” I grate through clenched teeth, my thighs starting to close.

I’m not going to sit here and listen to his?—

Smith lunges forward, grabbing my thighs so hard I gasp, the sound more shocked than pained. For a split second, I think he’s going to hurt me, but then his mouth is on my pussy.

Hot.

Wet.

Savage.

Ruthlessly devouring me like I’m the only goddamn thing keeping him alive.

“Fuck,” I mewl, shoving my hands into his hair so I can hold him in place as I buck against his mouth.

And he responds by pushing even harder against my pussy, tongue spearing inside me before he twirls it against my clit.

“Oh fuck!” I gasp when he sucks my clit between his lips, arching my back as his teeth nibble that tender, engorged bundle of nerves.

He pushes a finger inside me, then another before I’m done gasping from the stretch of the first. My movements become urgent, one hand on the rim to steady myself, my other twisting in his hair. My ass isn’t even touching the tub anymore. I’m suspended, fucking his face like a woman possessed.

Water splashes around my legs as Smith lathers his tongue over my pussy, licking and sucking until I’m dizzy with pleasure. His fingers pump in and out of me, the thump his palm against my pelvis driving me insane.

“Yes, fuck!” I grind against his mouth, my entire body shuddering with a desperate, pathetic need to come. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

He lets out a long, almost pained groan, sending vibrations over my already electrified nerves. I whimper when he pulls back, trying to drag him back to my pussy, but he twists his head away from my grip.

Eyes dark as midnight dart up to mine as he drags the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Jesus Christ. You taste fucking incredible,” he mutters angrily, like he’s mad about it.

“Why’d you stop?” I whine, leaning back and opening my legs wide.

“You don’t come without my permission.” His eyes lower, and it’s all the warning I have before he slaps my pussy. My thighs close on instinct, but I immediately shove them open again before he can bitch about it.

That makes the tiniest smile play on his mouth, but it’s drowned in sternness a second later as he strokes my pussy. His thumb twiddles my clit a few times, just enough to have me panting, before he pulls away.

“That little clit of yours is begging for attention. Show me what a good little whore you can be and I might let you rub it long enough to come.”

He doesn’t wait for me to agree. He just sits back on his heels, grabs his cock, and starts smearing my lube all over his shaft as his eyes slide back up to mine.

“I’m waiting.” He starts stroking his shaft, his other hand cupping his balls.

“Fuck,” I whisper. My eyes are glued to his cock as I start massaging my clit. It’s mesmerizing watching him work his wet shaft, his muscles shuddering with effort as he goes slow and hard.

My pussy can’t get enough.

Wetness oozes out of me every time my core clenches. All it wants is to be filled with his cock, brimming with his seed, exploding with his heat.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs. “That pussy of yours putting on quite a show for someone who claims they don’t want this.”

I moan, furiously working my clit as I shamelessly watch him getting himself off.

“Slower,” he pants.