Page 54 of House of Cards (The Devil’s Den #2)

Smith

The elevator doors roll open.

I step inside and wait for them to close.

Zoey presses herself to the back of the small chamber, cheeks glowing, but skin pale. I’ve turned her into a beautiful mess again. Her damp hair wild, a smear of blood beneath her jaw, her clothes rumpled.

Not the mess I was intending, though.

She pulled away right before I was about to fill her tight hole with my cum.

Zoey bleats out a surprised little sound when I slam my fist out behind me, hitting the emergency stop.

There’s a moment so silent I hear the splash as a drop of blood from my hand drips to the floor.

“You bit me,” I growl.

“You—” She breaks off, licking her lips. “You ass raped me.”

I chuckle as I step closer. “You enjoyed every second.”

She winces when I clamp my bandaged hand around her throat. The other hand, the one she bit, goes splat against the wall beside her head . She turns her face away with a disgusted grimace.

“I didn’t make you bleed,” I rasp. “I could have, but I didn’t.”

“You want a fucking medal or something?” She glares up at me as I bring my body flush with hers. Even then, she tries to inch back, to create space, but she’d have to burrow into the wall to accomplish that.

“What I want, is you .”

Shock flutters her eyelashes and, for a moment, I’m not sure why. Until my mind replays what I just said out loud.

“Your submission,” I say quickly.

“My…submission?” She frowns. “What the fuck does that even?—”

My bloodied hand slaps across her mouth. She flinches, eyes narrowing with revulsion, violently whipping her head left and right to displace me.

Smearing more and more of my blood over her face.

Her teeth graze me as she tries for another bite, but I cup my palm, giving her no purchase.

She grabs my wrist, trying to pull my hand away, then reaches for my face when that doesn’t work.

I rip my bloody hand away, keeping her pinned to the wall by her throat as I show her the teeth marks in my flesh.

“If blood makes you so queasy, maybe you shouldn’t have bitten me.”

She tries to peel my fingers off her throat. “You said you were going to let me go. We’re in the fucking elevator already. Haven’t you had enough? ‘Cos I sure as fuck have.”

I can’t stop staring at her mouth. At the swathe of red coating her lips, her chin, her cheeks.

“No,” I murmur, leaning in again, my body crushing hers. “Not yet. Not ever.” The last is barely a whisper.

She goes still, making a strangled sound when I drop my head to hers. I search her eyes, but there’s only confusion and frustration in them.

What was I expecting?

Lust?… Love ?

My mouth is right beside hers. I can feel her breath on my lips.

I could kiss her.

She might like that.

But it’s not enough.

My dick is hard again, grinding into the side of her belly. I wish fucking her against this wall would put an end to my suffering, but it wouldn’t come close.

What I want isn’t normal or sane or approaching decent. Hasn’t been for a long fucking time.

That doesn’t stop me twisting open the button on the top of her pants. Pulling down the zipper.

She grabs that wrist, tries to pull me away. “Stop. You’re covered in?—“

“Whose fault is that?” I press my lips to her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose. Rake my teeth over her jaw. “Spread your fucking legs, or you’ll be wearing my bite marks on this pretty face for the rest of your life.”

Her body shivers against mine. The grip around my wrist is still tight, but she doesn’t stop me when I slide my hand between her legs. Or when I slip two fingers inside her and start fucking her pussy.

Instead, she grabs the top of her pants and shoves them down, opening her thighs so I can fuck her even harder.

As a reward, I tighten the grip on her throat. Kiss her other cheekbone. Her forehead.

I can smell my blood on her skin. A tantalizing perfume, when it mixes with her arousal. I glance down, trying but failing to hold back a groan when I see the bloody mess between her legs. How her hips buck as she rides my fingers.

“Christ, Zoey, you’re so fucking wet.” When I look back at her, she’s staring into my eyes. Her lips parted, her soft pants painting warmth against my neck.

My tongue darts out to lap the skin beside her mouth. The salty, metallic tang of blood fills my mouth, and I’m fucking gone.

Gone.

The sounds I make as I lick her chin, her lips, her jaw…they belong to a beast, not a man. A wild medley of growling, sucking, panting.

Zoey comes, her body locking up, a deep groan spilling from the lips I’m sucking. She tries to kiss me in the throes of her orgasm, but I tear my mouth away from hers.

It’s not what I want.

I find another trace of blood beneath her chin and suck it off her skin hard enough to bruise.

She’s not just trembling now.

She’s quaking.

Her chest hitching. Small, pitiful little sounds escaping her lips.

“P-Please,” she stammers, grabbing my wrist. “St-stop. I’m done. Please. Stop!”

But her pathetic whimpers just spur my prey drive even more.

“Again,” I growl, fingering her faster.

“I—don’t—please,” she pants out, letting out a panicked sound when I drop to my knees in front of her. I rip her pants down to her ankles, shove her thighs open, and clamp my mouth over her pussy.

Christ.

So much fucking blood.

Is that why I’m so lightheaded?

No, of course not.

It’s the sick, twisted glee spreading inside me.

The rot.

The ruin.

Zoey bucks her hips, her hands sliding into my hair so she can force me harder against her cunt. Her moans fill the elevator, competing with the urgent wet sounds of my lips sucking at her sweet slit.

I slide a finger inside her asshole.

My bloody hand presses to her clit.

And my tongue delves deep into her pussy, hunting out the last trace of my blood as she comes in my mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” she whimpers, fucking my face with so much force that my teeth catch on the inside of my top lip, tearing the flesh.

The stab of pain can’t compete with the sudden, intoxicating rush filling me.

It’s nowhere close to an orgasm.

It’s deeper, richer—transcendental.

So intense, I’m shell shocked.

Empty…but in the best way. Like pulling the plug in a bath filled with scummy water.

I pause, panting, and give her cunt a slow lick that makes her shudder against me.

“Thank you,” I murmur, so faint, I doubt she hears me.

The air inside the elevator reeks of blood and cum. My skin feels hot, my insides freezing cold as I slowly stand. Zoey watches me rise with a blank stare. Her face is splotched with red—blushes and blood—but her eyes burn bright, almost feverish.

When she sways, I catch her. I keep her propped up as I drag her pants up her legs, but my nerveless fingers can’t button them up.

Somehow, I lift her, even with arms that have lost all strength.

Somehow, I get her all the way back to my hotel room without either of us falling to the ground.

I lay her gently on the bed and wipe damp hair from her face. She flinches at my touch, her eyes opening reluctantly, like I woke her from a dream.

Panic floods her eyes. “What time is it?” she whispers, trying to sit up.

I push her down again, my chest tightening when tears fill her eyes.

I flick my wrist to check the time. “Eleven-oh-five. Why?”

She shakes her head, lips quivering as she clamps them closed. She’s been watching clocks all night, but she won’t tell me why? Another mystery I’ll never solve.

Unless she thinks I’m going back on my deal.

That I’m going to keep her here forever.

My little fucktoy.

Christ, how I wish I could.

But even in this numb, empty mindset I’m in, I know I won’t.

I made a promise. The thought alone rips through me like a fucking chainsaw…but I have to let her go.

“Game’s over, kitten. You’re free to go.”

“…but?” she says, voice as wooden as her face.

I glide my knuckles down the side of her face, thumb brushing the bruise along her jaw.

“You’ll spend the rest of your life chasing tonight’s high. Searching for someone who’ll give you what only I can.”

I drop my head, lips by her ear. She shivers under me, breath catching in her throat.

“When you finally admit how much you need this, how much you need me …you know where to find me.”