Page 16 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

I bite my lip as he rubs small circles against me, wishing I was a stronger woman, but damn does this feel good.

He uses one hand to pull up a different application on his computer.

My eyebrows pinch, and I try to focus on watching him work.

He’s using Rex Technologies systems to try and track down whoever manages NYC Socialite.

I’m assuming he’ll cross reference to his user database and issue a special software update just for them.

“Gotcha,” he murmurs, his hand moving from my pussy to my low stomach, leaving my clit pulsing, waiting for more, but I’m not going to beg him to make me come. I have toys for that.

“Grab the mouse.”

“What?”

His fingers inch beneath the band of my swimsuit. “I need your help,” he says, the hand he could clearly use coming to cup my breast.

Oh .

I reach for the mouse, leaning forward. Mace follows, pressing his front against my back and placing his mouth at my ear as two of his fingers slide through my slick slit.

“Fuck, baby.” His touch is charged, electricity spreading from where he’s teasing and throughout my body.

“Copy the code.” His voice is rough, an entire octave deeper.

I use the keyboard to select all and copy and bite my cheek to keep from making embarrassing noises.

“That’s good,” he murmurs, fingers tracing around my entrance.

“Now drop it in the other program.” With his other hand, he yanks on the towel, and the soft cloth flutters down my body, exposing my tits to the cool air.

He rolls my nipple between his fingers, tugging as I do as I’m told.

My pulse quivers as he plays with me, taunting me with the hand between my leg, making me wait for what he now knows I desperately want.

As soon as I finish the task he gave, he pushes inside of me, groaning at how easily his fingers glide in, my arousal evident. “That’s perfect,” he says. “You’re doing so good.”

In any other scenario, I’d be offended by that, but with his fingers scissoring inside of me, caressing my walls, I find it hard to be mad. “What next?”

“Now you’re getting it.” I can hear the smug smirk in his tone. “See account 9087695564? Push a singular update. It’s the blue button on the bottom right.” He palms my other breast, worshiping it while I follow this next instruction.

My hand slips on the mouse when his thumb barely swipes over my clit, and he tsks.

“Focus.”

Huffing, I mutter, “You try working when someone’s fingering you.”

He simply chuckles, and the warmth of it brushes over my face. “I know you can do it.”

Rolling my eyes, I do my best to focus, preparing the update and bringing the cursor to hover over the blue button. I hesitate for a moment. Mace is about to piss off a lot of people because I went and got my feelings hurt. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Well, okay, then. These assholes deserve it for every terrible thing they’ve ever written about Rose. I click the button and release a harsh exhale.

“Good.” He nudges the side of my head with his cheek.

I tip my head to look at him, but his mouth descends on my exposed throat, sucking skin between his lips and biting my pulse point.

My gasp earns a hum of approval, and his thumb moves over the nerves that are aching for attention.

“Can’t wait to fill this pretty body up with my cum. ”

“Mace,” I say, but the rest of my words die in my throat as he traces quick circles over my clit. My hands find the arms of the chair, and I grip them, fighting the urge to buck into him, to give him any more satisfaction.

His lips trace up my neck and the hands on my breast come to cup my jaw, tipping my head back. His mouth brushes against my ear. “Fight me all you want, Cassia, but this pussy doesn’t lie.”

On cue, my walls clamp around his fingers, and he kisses down the column of my throat, holding me in place as he thrusts into me.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against my skin.

The praise drifts down my spine, and suddenly, my hips meet his hand. I want to hate it.

He smiles against my neck. “That’s right, baby. Look at how pretty you are.”

I suck in a breath as he presses down on my clit, the strokes turning more purposeful. I shouldn’t like this.

“You’re so wet for your husband,” he murmurs, nipping my pulse. “This perfect pussy is drenching my fingers.”

A tiny yelp tumbles past my lips. We’re not married yet, but I’m not about to argue over semantics when I’m so close to coming.

The grip on my chin drifts down to my neck, creating the perfect necklace.

My eyes widen at the sudden pressure, but it only amplifies every touch.

I’ve seen Dare do this to Rose a dozen times.

I never really understood why she liked it, but as Mace holds me hostage, having his way with me, my pussy clenches, heat blooming deep inside of me for all the wrong reasons.

He rests his chin on my shoulder, gazing down at where his fingers pump in and out of me. “You have no idea how much I love your body.”

The words hit me in the chest, and I suck in a breath, ready to tell him he doesn’t have to say things like that, but he doesn’t give me a chance to get the words out. The fingers inside of me curl, pressing against the spot deep inside of me.

“You’re gorgeous.”

It’s just dirty talk.

He kisses my throat.

“Fucking delicious.”

He probably says this to everyone.

His tongue lashes at my overheated skin.

“And most importantly,” he murmurs, lips moving over my skin in a featherlight touch, sending ripples of pebbled skin down my body. “You’re mine.”

The claim is punctuated by the quickening of his thumb.

He grinds his rock hard cock into my ass, rubbing himself against me as he gets me off.

Everything tightens at once. The space between us growing dense.

His breath on my neck arching my back. The thumb on my clit forcing a shaking exhale.

The fingers buried deep inside of me, stroking against that yummy spot over and over.

My eyes flutter closed as tingles erupt at the base of my spine.

My mouth parts at the pleasure reverberating through me, endorphins waiting to flood through my veins, trapped behind a barrier that Mace smashes through with a final bite at my throat.

His teeth clamp down and the world explodes in technicolor.

A sharp cry fills the room, and I buck into his touch, gasping for air, only to exhale it on a moan, shamelessly writhing and begging him to carry me fully through the orgasm.

He does, maintaining his pace and depth until my body collapses against his .

He languidly draws his fingers out, and I make a tiny sound of protest that has him laughing as he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a pleased hum.

One orgasm isn’t enough to change how I feel about him, but I appreciate the gift of his praise and feverish way he worshiped my body because the insults on that stupid website are the furthest thing from my mind.