Page 95 of House of Cards

His hand tightens around my throat.

In goes another one of my fingers.

“Faster. Harder. Like before.”

“Can’t,” I whimper, frustration boiling up inside me. I felt so good a second away, but now it’s like he’s punishing me for that spectacular orgasm. I can’t even muster up something snide.

“Why are you shaking?”

My breath hitches. I try to fuck myself harder, but my muscles feel like water.

“Your pussy is creaming itself and you still think you don’t want this?” His hand squeezes tighter around my neck.

My breath rasps through my constricted throat, but I don’t have the strength to fight him.

“Christ, that’s a sorry fucking display. Should I invite my friends over, see if they can get a better performance out of you?”

“Go to hell,” I mutter.

Somehow, I find the energy to fuck myself harder. And my reward is Smith tightening the hand on my throat even more.

I’m starting to see stars, and I guess I’m panicking, because I feel tears trickle out of my eyes.

“Stop embarrassing yourself. Fuck toys don’t cry like this.”

Why the fuck that dries up my tears, I don’t know. It makes me so fucking angry that I really do start fucking myself, if only so he’ll stop torturing me. And instead of watching him jerk off, I stare into his eyes and dare him to do his worst.

I would have said it, but I can’t speak anymore.

Can’t breathe.

But it doesn’t matter, because a second later, his jaw bunches, and he lets out a groan that sounds as angry as I feel.

Hot cum spurts against my pussy, my fingers, my clit.

Which sucks, because I was just about to come.

Instead, I lose what little friction I had. My climax slips away like a drowned person disappearing beneath the surface of a murky lake.

I don’t think he realizes how tight the grip around my neck is.

That I can’t breathe.

Haven’t been able to for far too long.

I’m sure it’s only by accident that his grip slips long enough for me to claw in a lung full of air.

“I told you to come.” His voice balloons up from a hidden depth, forcing open eyes I don’t remember closing.

Why is the room so dark? I can’t feel my body anymore.

No pain, no pleasure.

Not sure which I’ll miss more.

I swoon, and if Smith hadn’t caught me around the middle, I’d have toppled over the side of the bath. He lifts me, cradling me to his chest, and I hear the soft rush of water pouring from his body.

My eyes fall shut, mind and body surrendering to a violent dizzy spell.

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