Page 77 of House of Cards

I punch his face, but he dodges easily, grinning.

“Yeah, that’s it. Make me work for it, baby.” He grabs my throat, pinning me to the floor almost casually as his other hand goes for his belt.

I scratch and claw at his fingers, trying to peel them away so I can breathe, but a second later he’s pushing a knee between my thighs and prodding at my underwear with his dick.

Wild panic bursts through me. I whimper as I try to thrash beneath him, bucking and rolling my hips to throw him off. He chuckles, easily riding out my struggles, then brings his mouth to my ear like we’re lovers.

“Your ass ismine, Zoey.”

Icy fear shocks me into momentary stillness.

Iknewthis wasn’t a coincidence. He isn’t here to get his rocks off.

He’s going to kill me.

Afterhe gets his rocks off.

“How did you find?—”

He cuts off my frantic whisper with a low, “Thought you were safe here, hmm?” He chuckles. “If there’s one thing Elonzo’s good at, it’s finding rats.”

Elonzo. Unless he’s talking about himself in the third person, this guy just gave me Buzzcut’s name. Somehow, I don’t think that’s a good thing. Like how your kidnapper lets you see his face because you won’t live long enough to give his description to the cops.

Thank God for the ruffled panties, because this guy’s really struggling to find a way past all that lace. I pummel him with my hands, but that only ends up with my wrists crushed together above my head.

“Soon as Miguel’s up, he’s gonna join me. Think of all the fun things the two of us can do to you.”

A shudder of revulsion courses through me when a wet, slimy tongue drags over my ear.

…I’ll be watching…

I don’t know why I do it. Desperation, maybe. Fear, more likely.

“Smith!Smith!”

Elonzo’s friend stops trying to ram his dick through my panties, that hand wrapping around my throat instead.

“You shut the fuck up and take what’s coming to you,” he grates into my ear, squeezing my throat so hard that I choke for air.

I turn my head.

Find his ear.

And I bite down with every ounce of hatred and desperation in my body.

Hot blood floods my mouth as I tear through flesh. Cartilage gives way beneath my teeth with a wetcrunch,like I got a little overzealous with a chicken wing.

His scream is deafening. He topples to the side, severing what’s left of his ear because I sure as fuck don’t let go, and lands in a lopsided slump beside me.

It’s his turn to gape at me as he cradles the side of his head where his ear used to be. Blood oozes between his fingers, dripping onto my face, my neck, the torn remnants of my costume.

I spit out the chunk of flesh left in my mouth, retching.

“This ass belongs to me, no one else,” I push through bloody, clenched teeth.

He’s still gaping, still clutching his head, when I shove his legs off me. I scramble to my feet, snatching up the fallen night vision goggles and a nearby mannequin arm.

Behind me, his friend groans, but I don’t wait to see if he gets up.

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