Page 36 of House of Cards

“More.”

Her eyes widen, disgust flinching at the corner of her eyes, but she opens her lips a little wider, sips a little deeper. I keep itthere until she’s emptied it, then I swipe my thumb over her lips to catch the drop she spilled.

“There’s my good girl.”

Zoey flinches like she wasn’t expecting the praise…and definitely wasn’t expecting to like it.

She’ll learn.

The cup goes back on the coffee table. I have to take Zoey down to The Den to meet Myles, then get her set up in with the rest of the Angels. We don’t have much time—one of my clients had an opening in his schedule this morning, and he’s eager to meet our newest arrival.

A touch too eager for my liking, but rather the devil you know.

Zoey seems to abhor silence as much as I do liars and waste, because whenever’s there’s a lull, she can’t help but fill it up.

“So, does this penthouse of yours come with a ball and chain? No, wait. That’s too old school for you. Let me guess, sub-dermal tracker in my neck?”

I run my thumb along the inside of my towel, absently adjusting my glasses. The muscles on Zoey’s neck cord like she’s physically forcing her head to stay tilted up so she won’t accidentally look at my dick.

“This is a pit stop. You’ll be bunking in the basement with the other girls.”

“I’m sorry,othergirls?” She rolls her eyes. “Jesus, now I’m in a sex cult.”

Her blasé tone doesn’t fool me. I’m not sure what’s teeming in her eyes, whether it’s disgust or jealousy or outright anger, but it’s certainly not apathy.

She swipes a hand through the air, and the gauge veers dangerously close to enraged.

“No, actually, that makesperfectsense,” she hisses, slowly standing up out of the chair. “Because God forbid you discoverhow to jerk yourself off, Mr. Sex Freak. No, you need a harem of broken fuck dolls to use whenever your balls so much as twitch.”

I’m not sure if she’s angry that I tried baiting her with the towel, or because she’s starting to realize she’s not the star of a show, but merely a side act.

“My clients pay for fantasy, not masturbation. And business has never been better.”

Her face falls. “Yourclients?”

“You’ve heard of the Devil’s Den?”

“The nightclub down the road?” Her brow creases. “Wait, you expect me to work at the barandlet me fuck you whenever you want?” She crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair.

The Dom inside me snarls at the brazen disrespect in her words.

I didn’t realize how much aggression I’d been suppressing until Myles showed me how to use a flogger on one of his Angels. It was meant to be a one-time thing, but after one session the rest, as they say, was history.

All it takes is one step forward, and she hurriedly sits down again, hand clutching the top of her towel.

“You’re not serving tables, Zoey. You’re servingthem.”

“That wasn’t the agreement. You said I—“ She cuts off to swallow, then spits out the words were burning a hole in her stomach. “You said I belong toyou, not a bunch of random fucking creeps.”

I shove my hand in her hair, wrenching back her head as I lean over her.

“Do you think if you keep pushing my buttons, one of them will open an escape hatch?”

I tug down the top of her towel, baring her tits. Her large nipple crinkles against my palm as I grab one of them with my free hand, a flush touching the skin beneath her collarbones.

“Hey!”

If it wasn’t for a knock on the door, she’d have been in a world of trouble.

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