Page 33 of House of Cards (The Devil’s Den #2)

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.

“Can’t!” I sound as breathless as him. “Need to come!”

He sits up, grabbing the back of my neck in one hand, keeping perfect rhythm with the other. The way my body starts shaking when he dips his head down, pressing our foreheads together, makes me think I’m already coming.

“Your body was made for this, Zoey,” he murmurs.

He leans back, his hand sliding to my jaw. Thumb pressing against my lips until I let him push it inside.

“This wet, shaking, desperate mess you’re in isn’t a coincidence.” His voice is soft, the most seductive I’ve ever heard. But, Jesus, his words are so fucking filthy.

“You love me watching you finger yourself, you dirty little whore. You love it almost as much as when I make you come, even when you don’t want to. Admit it.”

I force my legs shamelessly wide, pushing a finger inside me as my other hand attacks my clit. He keeps his thumb shoved inside my mouth, rubbing it over my tongue.

“You love being used, don’t you, Zoey?”

I can feel how he’s jerking himself off, how the motion speeds up.

His whisper is so soft, so insidious, it makes me shudder. “But you don’t want to give it willingly, do you? You want me to take it from you.”

“Yes.” The words slips out between a swelling wave of pleasure, and I’m not sure if he compelled me to say it, or I spoke it of my own free will.

I don’t think it fucking matters anymore.

“Yes,” he repeats, his gaze dropping to my mouth as he drags his thumb free.

It should feel like the mental equivalent of a cell door slamming closed. Instead, it’s like someone just shoved me off a cliff.

I might be dead in a few seconds, but fuck it… might as well enjoy the trip.

My lips quiver, but my voice is steady. “Yes.”

His pupils bleed into the dark brown of his irises, but it’s only when he drags his lip through his teeth and lets out a harsh moan that something inside me erupts.

An orgasm hits me like a motherfucking earthquake.

I’m distantly aware that he’s still jerking off, but I can barely see through my half-closed, unfocused eyes as I ride a rocket ship straight to the fucking moon.

“Open.”

I open my eyes. He’s staring down at my pussy.

My legs are already spread. What more does he?—

Oh.

I slide a shaking hand down, peeling myself open for him, not even giving a shit at this point. A tingling cocoon of warmth envelops me as happy brain drugs flush through my body.

But he’s not done. And, apparently, neither am I.

“Didn’t tell you to stop,” he grates out, the muscles on his neck cording as he drags his thumb out of my mouth and grabs my throat instead.

“But I’ve already?—“

“And you will again.” His gaze drops. “Spread that cunt.”

My body obeys despite shaking arms and trembling fingers. Everything’s numb down there, so I barely feel the first finger going in.

“Another.” His eyes stay down, jaw set like stone as he tugs at his rock hard cock.

His hand tightens around my throat.

In goes another one of my fingers.

“Faster. Harder. Like before.”

“Can’t,” I whimper, frustration boiling up inside me. I felt so good a second away, but now it’s like he’s punishing me for that spectacular orgasm. I can’t even muster up something snide.

“Why are you shaking?”

My breath hitches. I try to fuck myself harder, but my muscles feel like water.

“Your pussy is creaming itself and you still think you don’t want this?” His hand squeezes tighter around my neck.

My breath rasps through my constricted throat, but I don’t have the strength to fight him.

“Christ, that’s a sorry fucking display. Should I invite my friends over, see if they can get a better performance out of you?”

“Go to hell,” I mutter.

Somehow, I find the energy to fuck myself harder. And my reward is Smith tightening the hand on my throat even more.

I’m starting to see stars, and I guess I’m panicking, because I feel tears trickle out of my eyes.

“Stop embarrassing yourself. Fuck toys don’t cry like this.”

Why the fuck that dries up my tears, I don’t know. It makes me so fucking angry that I really do start fucking myself, if only so he’ll stop torturing me. And instead of watching him jerk off, I stare into his eyes and dare him to do his worst.

I would have said it, but I can’t speak anymore.

Can’t breathe.

But it doesn’t matter, because a second later, his jaw bunches, and he lets out a groan that sounds as angry as I feel.

Hot cum spurts against my pussy, my fingers, my clit.

Which sucks, because I was just about to come.

Instead, I lose what little friction I had. My climax slips away like a drowned person disappearing beneath the surface of a murky lake.

I don’t think he realizes how tight the grip around my neck is.

That I can’t breathe.

Haven’t been able to for far too long.

I’m sure it’s only by accident that his grip slips long enough for me to claw in a lung full of air.

“I told you to come.” His voice balloons up from a hidden depth, forcing open eyes I don’t remember closing.

Why is the room so dark? I can’t feel my body anymore.

No pain, no pleasure.

Not sure which I’ll miss more.

I swoon, and if Smith hadn’t caught me around the middle, I’d have toppled over the side of the bath. He lifts me, cradling me to his chest, and I hear the soft rush of water pouring from his body.

My eyes fall shut, mind and body surrendering to a violent dizzy spell.

I bounce on the bed, land on my side, but he pushes me onto my back with a rough shove.

“Zoey? Zoey!”

A sharp crack of pain on my cheek. Another.

My eyes fly open, a ragged breath dragging through my lips.

Smith sits back, his weight crushing my thighs as he drags both hands through his hair.

“Christ, you fucking scared—” He cuts off with a grimace, looking away.

His head slowly turns back, and a shiver goes through me at the fury in his eyes.

“Don’t you ever faint on me again,” he growls, his voice low and urgent.

It makes me shiver, but not from fear.

It’s something darker.

Something I can’t name because I never knew it existed.

I just lie there, because what the fuck else is he expecting from me? But I guess that’s not good enough, because he shoves a hand between my legs and drags his fingers through my pussy.

It comes out wet, and he glances at it with an unreadable expression before leaning on his other hand and bringing those wet fingers to my mouth.

“Lick.”

I don’t even hesitate.

Our cum, the salt from our skin, a touch of lavender from the bubble bath. His fingers are rough and smooth at the same time.

Smith says nothing when I start sucking on his fingers, but his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls with labored breaths until I spit them out again.

“Goddamn sicko,” I whisper.

He traces the outline of my mouth with his damp fingers, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

Then he smiles.

Another quick, fleeting thing that has my stomach fluttering.

Fuck. Fuck!

This is not good. I can’t be falling for this unhinged monster.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

“Breaking you is more fun than I thought it would be,” he says, dark eyes glimmering.

His words should make me scared. Angry even.

But my body doesn’t get the memo.

All I feel is a dark, pulsing ache between my legs.