Page 29 of House of Cards (The Devil’s Den #2)

“Enough.” My command echoes in a beat of silence before I repay her earlier kindness and thump my fist into her sternum.

She doubles over with a rattling gasp, retching like I punched her in the gut with all my might. If anything, it was a hard shove—just enough to wind her.

“Stop being so dramatic,” I tell her as I shove her down in the chair. She flinches when the second restraint slips over her wrist and clicks closed.

I grab her jaw, forcing her to look at me. Blood oozes from the split lip the Colombian gave her and something primal stirs in me at the sight.

Black.

Wet.

I’m desperate to rip out my cock, to force it between those puffy, blood-soaked lips, but the angle is wrong.

And I can’t see her tits.

“I’ve been waiting to fuck this bratty mouth of yours since you stole from me,” I tell her, my thumb tracing her blood-stained lower lip.

She scowls at me, but the look fades as I grab the front of her costume and rip it down her chest. I palm her tits, watching her nipples tighten at my rough touch.

I walk around the chair until I’m beside her, and crouch until our eyes are level. She tries to kick me, but with a hand pressed down on either knee, there’s not much she can do.

“Hope your jaw unhooks, kitten, because you’re taking all of me.”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, true fear eclipses the defiance.

Then she smiles, teeth black with blood, and spits in my face.

I rise, pulling off my glasses to inspect the thick splatter of blood and saliva on the lenses. I fold them, slip them into my shirt pocket. Zoey’s face is blurry now, but I still grab her on the first try.

With one hand, I pinch into her cheeks, forcing her jaws open. She resists, trying to close them, but all she’s doing is slicing open the inside of her own cheeks.

“You’re incorrigible,” I murmur as I zip down my pants.

She growls at me like a feral cat.

Her eyes are hazy green circles, deeply shadowed in the dim light. I’m wishing I took the time to clean my glasses so I can see how truly repentant she is. But from the way she’s still resisting me, desperately trying to close her jaw, I hesitate.

She’s already bitten off an ear today. I don’t want to add my dick to her trophies.

“You know what happens to girls who spit?” I ask, patting her cheek. “I teach them to swallow. Every. Fucking. Drop.”

I rip off my tie.

Zoey’s desperate to keep her head away as I gag her, but strapped down as she is, doesn’t stand a chance. Her cheeks puff out as she pants against the fabric tightened cruelly between her teeth, eyes in malicious slits.

She struggles to buck me off when I slide my knees onto the chair on either side of her legs. Whatever curses she’s yelling are unintelligible through the gag. But when I grab her tits and squeeze them hard enough to have her flesh oozing through my fingers like dough, she hastily stills.

I watch the panic in her eyes turn to confusion, turn to fear as I tweak her nipples between thumb and forefinger. They harden on command, goosebumps on her skin.

Her eyes squeeze closed when I zip down my pants and take out my cock. When she hears me spit on my cock, a quiver goes through her entire body.

“Look at me.” My voice grates in my throat. “You’re going to watch me use you like the little fucktoy that you are.”

My self-control is fraying.

Zoey doesn’t want to know what happens when it snaps.

Her eyelashes tremble before she forces them open to reveal the simmering hate muddied with fear, disgust, and hopelessness swimming in them.

There’s a second where she glances down at my cock, but it seems to terrify her more than anything I’ve done to her yet.

Big, hazel eyes painted black by the overhead lights lock onto mine, and don’t budge. Not when I wrap my hand around my cock and start stroking myself. Not when I squeeze her tits together and push my hard on between them.

“There’s my good girl.”

She flinches when I spit between her cleavage, adding some much needed lube.

Christ, if her tits feel this amazing, what a fucking experience her pussy will be.

I feel lightheaded with pleasure as I fuck her tits in this carefully staged room that smells of pencil shavings and chalk. My heart pounding, my guts churning, a dark need building at the base of my spine at the thought of my cum streaking Zoey’s unwilling body.

Until I realize she’s not panting out of fear anymore.

I’d been staring down, watching my cock slide in and out of her tits with every intentional thrust, but when I hear her breathing change, I glance up in time to catch her hooded eyes flicker with want.

Her nipples must be overly sensitive.

Can I make her come just by teasing them?

My thrusts speed up as I pinch and knead her tiny buds between thumb and forefinger.

Her eyelashes flutter, nostrils flaring as she hauls in air.

Her pupils were already blown out in the low light, but I can barely see a strip of muddy green anymore.

She’s holding perfectly still, no longer writhing and bucking to force me off the chair.

Like any movement will plunge her screaming off the edge, too.

I pause just long enough to shift my weight, sinking one leg between hers. Her eyes go wide when I slide it up the chair until the top of my knee is right against her pussy.

Zoey mewls against the gag when I fuck her tits again. Probably because my leg keeps shifting, rubbing against her clit with every thrust. She tries to scoot back, to lessen the friction, but she’s already crammed tight against the back of the chair.

“Why do you keep fighting something that feels so good?” I ask, with genuine fucking curiosity.

She throws me a pleading look as I pick up speed, tossing her head to the side as a shiver races through her. When our eyes meet again, she chews at my tie like she’s convinced she can work through it before I’ve come all over her glorious tits.

I have to stop fucking her so I can hook a finger over that silky fabric and tug it down her chin.

She takes a big breath, and then whimpers, “Stop.”

When my only response is a low chuckle, she hangs her head, lets out a miserable choking sound…and starts grinding against my leg.

In seconds, my pants are soaked.

I don’t even taunt her. I can’t.

I’m too busy fighting back an orgasm. Her desperate bucking, the pathetic sounds escaping her mouth—they’re turning me on more than I could ever have imagined.

She comes seconds before I do, throwing her head back on a groan almost as loud as mine, muscles in her neck standing proud as her body spasms and shudders.

My balls tighten, cock pulsing between her tits as I shoot cum over her blood-streaked collarbones, the hollow in her throat, the pendant dangling from her leather collar.

I’m hunched over her like a fucking beast, shoulders arched, thighs tensed, but I can still feel her humping my knee as she rides out the last sliver of her climax.

I drag my finger over her skin, gathering up my cum, and while she’s still too dazed to fight back, I grab a fistful of her hair and wrench her head up.

“Open.”

Her eyes dip to my finger, lashes fluttering for one brief second before she parts her lips. And if I hadn’t just come, I’d be covering her in another load.

Christ, finally .

There it is.

Glorious, if reluctant, submission. Barely an ember of fight left in her furnace.

All it took was some nipple play and a leg to hump.

I wrap my hand around her throat as she swallows, shivering when I feel her muscles contract and move under my palm.

Ducking down, I inhale the air between us. Blood. Sweat and cum—hers and mine.

My voice could have belonged to a stranger. Hoarse, breathless, dangerously low.

“I’ve just rewired your nervous system, kitten. After tonight, you’ll never be able to deny how much you fucking want this.”

I hear something that sounds like the first frantic blubber of a sob, but when I lean back to look at her face, her jaw is clenched, eyes wide and fierce, already trying to lie to herself about what just happened.

My thumb swipes over her mouth, where her lip’s begun bleeding again. I have to lock down every muscle in my body to stop myself from ducking down and tasting her.

Why do I keep fighting something that feels so good?

I climb off the chair, shoving my cock back in my pants. She flinches when I touch her legs, but all I do is push them closed, patting her thighs as I crouch down and study her at eye level.

“Run as far as you want, fight as hard as you want, but you’ll always submit to me, Zoey.” I tuck a wayward chunk of hair behind her ear. “Now that your body knows who it belongs to, you won’t have a choice.”

She glares at me, but her expression crumples a moment later.

I know it’s coming, but still my stomach clenches when she drops her head and starts sobbing.