Page 32 of House of Cards (The Devil’s Den #2)

He dips his head under the surface. The position shifts him down closer to me, the back of his thighs brushing my toes.

Instead of jerking away, I stroke my toes against his skin.

Water streams over his corded neck and strong jaw as he rushes into a sit and drags his hands over his hair. Clumps of bubbles cling to his skin, sliding down as he leans back against the tub, legs splayed. He lays his arms on the rim, hand draped casually inside.

Heat crawls onto my face when his dark eyes fix on me with an intensity that works its way deep inside me.

There’s a smoldering scowl around his mouth.

Demanding an explanation.

Not sure why I thought he won’t notice me touching him. This man notices everything . Not sure why I thought it wouldn’t lead to nasty consequences.

Touching him without his permission is apparently a punishable offense.

Smith drops his eyes, blatantly working his way up my body. Where his heavy gaze lands, goosebumps break out. My legs are squeezed together, which seems to annoy him.

His jaw tightens, dark eyes pinning me. “Open.”

God. No.

My legs quiver as I fight to keep them closed despite how badly I want to splay myself wide just because, why, he told me to?

He runs a hand through his hair, dark shadows in his hooded eyes. “If you think modesty has any place in my world, you’re sorely mistaken.” His voice is smooth as silk, but there’s a razor’s edge to it.

My already confused mind chooses violence.

“Like I give a shit. I’m a prisoner here, not a fucking tourist.” I say this through a scowl, just in case he thinks I’m joking.

The side of his mouth twitches up. “Every time you scowl at me, all I see is a brat begging to be broken again.”

The hell does that mean?

Guess I look as confused as I feel, because Smith is kind enough to spell it out for me as he starts stroking the edge of the tub’s rim with his thumb.

“Every hole of yours belongs to me. Time you learned to open them on command.” When I just sit there, frozen, he tilts his head, lifting his hand between us and snapping his fingers.

I flinch at the sound, even though I knew it was coming.

Jesus. My ass is already aching at the thought of more punishment. What’s the harm in giving him what he wants?

Because it’s a slippery fucking slope, Zoey. Yesterday, you were humping his leg like a horny dog while he used your tits to get off. What the fuck do you think he’s going to make you do today?

Biting down on my lower lip, I ignore the way my face heats and slowly inch open my thighs. I don’t know if it would have been better if he looked down, but somehow the fact that he keeps his eyes glued to mine makes my shame flare up a million times worse.

This isn’t about staring at my pussy.

This is about control.

Dominance.

About him reminding me that he truly is a monster.

I should get it, but fuck, I really, really don’t. It all feels so alien to me. So complex I’d need a massive chalkboard and Good Will Hunting levels of smart to figure it out.

My only comfort is that this fight of ours is starting to feel familiar. It leaves me with the tiniest sliver of hope that, maybe one day, I’ll figure out how to beat him at his own game.

“Show me how you rub that greedy pussy when you’re alone.”

I gape at him a beat before blurting out, “What? No! That’s… private .”

“I’m not asking permission. I decide if you come, when you come, and how you come. Starting with that slit between your legs.” He lifts a finger, pointing lazily at my pussy.

My thighs tremble as I fight not to slap them closed again.

The sooner I do what he wants, the sooner this will be over, right?

After watching him undress, I kinda have unfinished business down there, anyway. Something about this fucked up situation is turning me on.

I slide my hand down my stomach, and reluctantly start massaging my clit. The pain radiating up from my ass cheeks bleeds into a sullen throb.

Finally, Smith’s gaze drifts down.

Fuck, this is definitely worse. Or…better?

My chest constricts when he grabs his cock and starts stroking it.

Before, the bubbles had been covering it, but when he grabs the base of his shaft, it sticks several inches out of the water.

I rub myself faster, harder, begging my clit to get on with it so I can come and be done with this shameful display.

“That the best you can do?” He lets out a soft chuckle. “Fucking pathetic.”

My hand starts to shake so badly, I almost lose my rhythm. “Shut up! This is hard enough as it is.”

His face might as well be set in stone, his eyes chipped from the same marble decking the bathroom floor. “Can’t even fuck yourself without shaking like a scared little bitch.”

Jesus, I hate him.

I hate him so much I could cry.

I clamp down on my bottom lip, leaning back on one hand so I can adjust the angle of my hips. Instead of speeding up like I so desperately want to, I pause to shake out my hand and, close my eyes, try my hardest to pretend Smith isn’t even there.

Which is fucking impossible, of course, but at least my fingers stop trembling.

I describe circles around my clit, stroke down with my thumb, then massage the pads of my fingers over the tingling bundle of nerves.

Slow. Methodical.

Like I’m building a house of cards, and the smallest misstep will knock them down.

And, thank God, it’s working.

My chest grows tighter, my breath hitching, my hips rocking ever so slightly.

Unbidden, the memory of being strapped down to that chair flickers across my mind. I can grumble all I want, but God, staring up at Smith in horror while he titty fucked me was possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

For a second, his mask had dropped. There’d been a look in his eyes. A deep, terrifying hunger. Something I’d expect to see at the zoo, in the eyes of a tiger who’d been trapped in a cage too long. Desperate to escape, to stalk, to sink its teeth into live prey and rip out its throat.

I can’t believe I’m doing this in front of him.

I’ve never even fucked with the lights on before.

Just how I couldn’t believe I started grinding against his legs last night, either.

But there was something about him taking ownership of my body, using it to satisfy himself despite how I fought and struggled, that made me feel… wanted.

The thought that he was so desperate to have me, even when he didn’t dare put his dick in my mouth, made me giddy with power.

A man like him losing control because of a woman like me.

My teeth worry at my bottom lip as pleasure pools between my legs. Even the sting from where Elonzo’s friend had split my lip only stokes the fire in my core.

Fuck, this feels good.

But I need more pressure. I squeeze my thighs together, back arching as my pleasure ramps up.

Smith wedges his foot between my knees, forcing one leg to the side so fast I almost lose my balance on the edge of the tub. I knock him away, glaring, but the fight in me fizzles out when I see how hard he’s gripping his cock, how tight his jaw is, how wild his eyes.

“Don’t make me open you up again,” he grates. His eyes flick down to my pussy. “Now start fucking your cunt, before I do it for you.”

I swipe my fingers over my pussy, biting back a moan when I feel how wet I am. He lets out a low rumble, a quick breath huffing out of him as I slide a finger inside myself.

“That’s it.” He watches my performance unblinking, jerking off almost absently. “Fuck yourself like the desperate little fuck toy you are.”

My eyes slide over his wet skin, taking in every defined plane of his body, his powerful arms, his muscular thighs.

He’s stroking his cock faster, like he’s closer to coming. Like a switch flips in my brain, all I can think about is sinking down on his lap, that cock splitting me open as he forces his way deep, deep inside my core.

Shame transforms into some inexplicable bravado as need spikes through my pussy. I slip another finger in beside the first, pretending it’s his cock, knowing he’d stretch me so much wider, fill me so much deeper than this.

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.