Page 104 of House of Cards

Smith leans down, his face inches from mine. His eyes are dark, intense, searching. “Say it, Zoey,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Say how much you want this.”

I hesitate, my mind racing. I could lie, remind him how much I hate him.

But something in his eyes stops me, a need that mirrors my own.

“I... I want this,” I admit, the words torn from me.

A faint smile spreads across his face, transforming his features. He looks almost... happy. “Of course you do. I could bruise your throat and you’d still beg to swallow my cum.”

“You fucking arrogant—mm!”

He shoves his cock back inside my mouth so fast I barely have time to get my teeth out of the way. He lets out another hiss, slapping my cheek, but he doesn’t pull out.

There’s heat in his eyes, a wildfire that both terrifies and entrances me. It ignites a needy ache in my core that makes me want to shove a hand between my legs and get myself off.

Is he right about me liking this? Not just him, but when he uses me like this?

Smith starts relentlessly fucking my throat. I drag in air every chance I get, but they’re few and far between. My gag reflex tries to fight back, but I clench my stomach and will myself not to puke.

I’d probably just choke to death if that happened.

Saliva splutters around my lips, coating the sides of my mouth, my chin, the tip of my nose. I’m a mess, and that’s before he groans like an injured bull and comes.

I taste nothing, because he’s in too deep. But I can feel his cum hitting my throat, and I barely hold down another violent gag.

“Attagirl,” he groans as his dick pulses inside my mouth. “Swallow every drop like the needy little slut you are.”

Like I have a fucking choice. My stomach is threatening to revolt, bile pushing up my throat, but I swallow it down.

That earns me a throaty moan that has my clit tingling and my nipples tightening. But I keep my hands on his thighs, bracing myself as he pushes inside my mouth one last time before pulling out.

He stands there for a moment, spent dick hanging heavy between his legs, dark eyes on my mouth.

I lick my lips, and he tears his penetrating gaze away, locking eyes with me.

“So…” I say, trying to sound airy and not at all like I nearly came just from giving him head. “About that cake…”

His lips twitch into something that might have been a smirk. Then he tilts his head toward the dining table, staring into myeyes like he’s weighing my soul. “Go ahead. You’ve certainly earned it.”

I scramble off the bed and hurry across the room. Not just because I’m dying for cake—I am—but because I can’t stand meeting his eyes.

Whythe hellare my cheeks burning? Because he told me I was a good girl again?

This is some messed up shit, right here. Even if I get out of this situation alive, I’m going to need therapy for the rest of my life.

I grab a fork and attack the slice he cut earlier, keeping my eyes locked to my task as Smith comes up behind me. He says nothing, does nothing, just stands close enough that I can smell him, feel his heat. It makes my hands tremble, but not with fear. I’m anxious about making a mess, because somehow I think he won’t like that, and apparently I’ve become a chronic Smith-pleaser.

Smith sweeps my hair away from my neck, sending a thrill through my entire body. His touch is so gentle, entirely different from the man who just forced himself down my throat. I flinch, turning my head to peer up at him, and glimpsing something new on his face, a warmth in his eyes that has nothing to do with what just happened on the bed.

“I’ll have a slice, too,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to the cake, before settling back on me.

The look is gone, his face back to neutral.

I swear I didn’t imagine it.

Maybe there’s more to this monster than the controlling, sadistic freak the world knows him as.

Which makes no damn sense.

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