Page 33 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

twenty-two

CASSIA

I kind of hate that Mace cooked me grilled cheese. He could have picked anything else, but he just happened to choose the meal that’s close to my heart. I’m too cynical to believe in coincidence. He’s been doing his homework. Admittedly, I can appreciate his dedication.

Finishing the second glass of wine—my favorite brand, no less—I study him as he washes the dishes. The scene is peak domestication. Frankly, it’s weird as shit to see him with his sleeves rolled up, bubbles covering his hands. And babies?

He almost seemed excited at the idea. I’ve never been in a relationship long enough to seriously consider if I want them. Mace, though, he looked ready to toss me onto the counter and knock me up right then and there.

Oh, yes, darling, let me tell you how your father and I met. Well, you see, it all started with a man being shot... I almost laugh at the thought. Mace and I barely get along. How are we meant to parent together?

A yawn hits me, and I cover it with my hand, glancing at the clock. It’s late. “Thanks for the food,” I tell him, heading out of the kitchen while his hands are still busy and he can’t stop me. My belly is warm from the food and liquor, and I slowly make my way up the stairs, yawning again.

A pointed throat clearing comes from the base of the steps.

I pause, hand on the railing, and shoot my gaze over my shoulder. “Yes?”

Mace’s hands are in his pockets, attention fully on me, an eyebrow lifted in warning. “Where are you going?”

“To sleep. In my own bed,” I tell him with a slanted look.

He takes the first step up. “Is that so?”

Is he serious right now? Turning, I cross my arms and watch him ascend with a scowl. “Are you picking a fight?”

He stops two steps below me, his face almost in line with my tits. He stares up at me through thick, dark lashes. “Maybe.”

“You have issues,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to your room. I’m going to mine. End of story.”

“Here’s the problem with that,” he begins, moving up a step. He’s so tall that we trade stances, his neck tipping down and mine tilting back to hold his gaze. “You’ve been breaking my rule every night this week.”

“I thought we already agreed that rule was dumb.”

“We never agreed to anything,” he says, gaze drifting over my face, down my throat, and over the crest of my cleavage. “Starting now, you sleep in my bed.”

“There you go again, trying to tell me what to do.” I shake my head.

“Are you going to be a good girl and listen?”

I scoff. “How about, no?” Turning, I grip the railing to continue up the stairs and leave this obnoxious conversation behind.

Mace’s arm hooks under my calves, knocking me over. I tip back and a gasp rips out of my lungs. I’m going to fall. But he catches me without so much as a grunt, smirking down at me as I glower at him. “Careful, baby.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, crossing my arms and allowing him to carry me up the stairs. I’m not going to try to fight out of his hold when we could both tumble to our deaths. As soon as we reach the second floor, it’s a different story. I buck in his hold, but he’s strong enough to keep me in his arms.

He kicks in the door to his room. “Now, here’s how this is going to work.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“I can’t focus when you flirt with me,” he murmurs, stopping before his massive bed.

“You’re insane.”

His lips quirk and those annoying dimples appear. “Like I was saying, here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to lie down. I’m going to be the big spoon, and if you behave, I might bury my face between your legs.”

Heat swoops through my core. I suck in a breath. “Are you threatening me with orgasms?” I demand, not sure if I should be mad or intrigued.

Mace simply smirks and drops me. I land on the plush mattress with a little bounce and a squeak. He takes advantage and climbs on top of me, caging me with his arms and gazing down at me.

Heart thudding, I narrow my eyes. “I should chop your dick off.”

He lowers his hips to meet mine, letting me feel every inch of him. “You’d be missing out.”

I swallow. “You can’t sex me into submission. ”

“Is that so?” he murmurs, grinding his cock over my core, the hardness of him pressing against my clit. The material of my thong is soaked, clinging to my skin, but I hope he can’t tell.

My lips part and he descends, capturing my lips with his, stealing the rest of my fight with the force of his kiss.

Mace dominates the moment with another pointed rock of his hips that has a pleased sound rattling in the back of my throat.

He hums in approval, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on mine.

“Are you done arguing?”

I’m tired. It’s been so long since someone has held me. What’s one night? Not to mention, he’s promising to eat me out if I share his bed. It’s kind of hard to resist the promised pleasure. My walls clench, and the desire to be filled is so strong that I relent. “Yes.”

Mace’s answering grin is wicked, and I can’t help feeling like I’ve lost all my pawns.

The wine made it easy to fall asleep. I wake up cocooned in Mace’s arms. I didn’t want to sleep in the dress, and when I started to take it off, Mace gave me his shirt.

Such chivalry after demanding I share his bed.

I’m starting to wonder if his sacrifice was thought out, though.

His naked chest presses into my back, and one of his arms is loosely wrapped around me, holding me to his muscled form.

Blinking, I stretch, arching my back and inadvertently pressing my ass into his erection.

Fuck, he’s big. Swallowing, I carefully try to pull away, inching across the mattress.

“Mmm, you feel so good,” he rasps in my ear, slipping his other arm between my body and the mattress to fully hug me. He runs one hand from my hip up to my left breast, palming it with a groan. “So soft.”

My pulse drums in my ears, chest rising and falling rapidly as he pinches my nipple.

I don’t hate the attention. In fact, I kind of love it.

I think it’s probably smarter if I don’t sleep with him, but then he goes and rubs his cock against my ass, and being stupid has never been more alluring.

Only the thin material of his boxers and T-shirt separates our bodies.

There are little...beads running up the right side.

I rock back against him, mostly to figure out what those are and definitely not because he buries his face against my throat, peppering my neck with kisses that send fire straight to my core.

“This is how you should wake up,” he murmurs, the hand on my breast drifting down, fingers coasting over my belly, grazing along the top of my thigh. “In my bed.” He draws his mouth up the column of my neck, nipping my skin. “Desperate to come.”

“I’m not desperate,” I breathe, but the shake in my voice tells us both I’m a rotten liar.

His throaty chuckle brushes down my spine. He grips my knee, wrenching my legs open and hooking my ankle behind his leg, holding me open. Liquid fire roars through my veins as he drags his knuckles up my inner thigh. He traces his fingers along the top of my thong, teasing the damp material.

My body is screaming for release. What’s he waiting for? I lose all sense of propriety and press my ass into his erection, rubbing against it, hoping it’ll end the torture he’s putting me through.

His mouth scorches up my throat, along my jawline, lips caressing over the shell of my ear. “Aren’t you going to say please?”

This asshole. “Fuck you,” I growl, trying to get away from him, but his grip is solid against me.

His hand slips beneath my thong.

Finally.

But his fingers pause centimeters from my clit, circling the small triangle of hair I maintain. Some guys hate hair. Mace doesn’t seem to mind at all. The distance is cruel, though. “Let me hear you say please,” he says into my ear. “Beg me to make you come.”

“I hate you.”

He slaps my pussy.

Pleasure shocks through me. I suck in a hard breath, surprised that didn’t turn me off, and try to find my bearings. My mind is a carousel of stubborn resistance and wanton desperation.

Mace dips one finger down a little farther, sliding it through my soaking slit. “Stop fighting me,” he murmurs, nudging my cheek with his nose. “All I’m asking is to hear you say it, baby.”

“Oh my god, fine! Please make me come,” I snarl.

“A little less attitude,” he coaches, tugging my thong down my thighs.

Anger wars with desire, but I’m so worked up, so ready to see if he can put his money where his mouth is, that lust wins and I relent with a huff. “Fine. Please, Mace, please make me come.”

“I love it when my wife listens,” he rasps, stroking my clit in maddeningly slow circles. “God, Cassia, you’re so fucking wet.”

The shame of it burns my cheeks, but when he shifts his hand down, pushing two fingers inside of me and placing his thumb right on the money, all inhibitions fall away. I hiss as he grinds the pad of his thumb over that spot, digits scissoring inside of me, stretching my walls.

“One of these days, you’ll regret lying to me,” he whispers.

My heart skips, but before I can think too hard about if he means more than outside of the bedroom, his mouth lands on my throat again, sucking and biting as he works me over until I’m panting, little sounds of pleasure tumbling from my lips.

He shifts, slipping his arm out from under me, thrusting the other hand as he comes to kneel above me.

I roll onto my back, my gaze colliding with his, and swallow at the ravenous look in his eyes.

If he was a predator, I’d be terrified right about now, but that hungry look drifts down between my legs, where his thumb is teasing, then slowly back up to my face.

“Show me those pretty tits.”