Page 155 of House of Cards

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.

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