Page 145 of House of Cards

I picture her behind the door, arms clasped around her chest.

Her shivering body.

Her shaking hands.

Her trembling lips.

Those wide, fear soaked eyes, and the sounds I’ll wrench from her throat once my hands are wrapped around it.

Christ, my dick’s getting hard just at the thought.

She’s quiet now—or maybe I can’t hear her through my own noise. Panting breath, damp fabric whisking, the resounding crash as my shoe slams into the door beside the handle.

Crash!

Zoey screams when the wood finally splinters and gives way.

That sound swells my dick until it’s a hard ridge under my virgin wool Brioni trousers.

I’m grinning, but my jaw is bunched so tight it probably looks more like a grimace. She tries to retreat, but I’m filling the doorway, leaving her nowhere to run.

Not that it stops her trying.

She lunges for the shower. I’m there in two thundering strides, but she dodges me, spinning to avoid my clutching hand, then crashes into the vanity as she scrambles for the door.

My foot lands on a slab of wood. I slip, and she almost makes it out.

But I recover quickly.

Grab her by the hair.

Yank her back.

She screams in pain, in frustration, her eyes feverish as she twists and tries to knock my arm away with hers. When that doesn’t work, she slashes at my face.

Light glints off something in her hand.

I barely react in time, so fixated on her, so fucking desperate to drag her closer that she nearly slices my cheek with a shard of glass. She bares her teeth when I grab her wrist, then yelps and falls to her knees when I twist it at a sharp angle.

There’s a moment of peace as we’re both still, both softly panting. Me taking stock of the situation, her looking like she’s trying to set me on fire with the power of her mind.

My eyes flick to the shattered mirror.

She must have broken it while I was battering down the door.

“Clever girl,” I murmur, twisting her wrist just a little more.

She gasps, trying to angle into the pain to take the pressure off.

“Question,” she says in a tight voice. “Do you play these fucked up games with all your sex slaves? Or should I feel flattered?”

I pluck the shard of glass from her fingers, examining it. She was just as likely to be cut by it as I was, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

It always seems to annoy her when I don’t answer her straight away.

“So what now, huh? I finally get to pretend your tiny dick can make me come?”

“The last thing you should do right now is piss me off.”

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