Page 6 of Dirty Little Christmas
"I can do this," I say, tipping my head forward to meet Sariah's gaze. I fill my words with a confidence I don't feel, giving her a reassuring smile. My stomach quivers as nervous energy surges through me, but I force it back. Fake it 'til you make it. That's the Hollywood way.
I can do this. For a chance to make Blaze my daddy, Iwilldo this.
No guts, no glory, right?
"Are you sure?" Sariah asks.
"Positive."
Chapter Three
Blaze
"Is she ready?" I demand as Sariah steps out of the dressing room with our intern in tow.
"Almost." Sariah offers me a bright smile. Is it just my imagination or does she seem nervous? Sariah is one of the youngest designers we have working here. She's also one of the most talented. She's a piss poor liar though because she'sdefinitely nervous. When the door clicks closed, she almost jumps out of her skin.
"What's the problem?" I ask, pacing across the sewing room toward her. Halfway there, I have to stop to readjust my coat. Sariah's team worked magic to create a debonair Santa suit in record time, but it's far from perfect. The boots are a size too big, the temporary beard dye itches like a son of a bitch, and I'm in danger of Hulking out of the red overcoat at any minute. That's fine though. Georgia can pay me back for the inconvenience when she's in my bed and I'm eating her to multiple orgasms.
Her sugary scent has been wreaking havoc on my senses for two months. I fully intend to find out exactly how sweet she tastes before I get inside her. And I will be getting inside of her, make no mistakes about that. My little princess declared war and daddy came to play.
"The elf costume is a little small," Sariah says. "It's fine though. We made it work."
"Is she comfortable?"
"She's a model. They're never entirely comfortable."
She's not lying about that. Models are stitched and sewn into any number of ill-fitting garments on any given day. They walk runways unable to breathe or feel their feet, and they do it with a smile on their faces. But I don't want Georgia suffering in silence like she tends to do. I want her happy.
No, that's not quite right. I don't merely want her happy. If she isn't happy, I'm pretty fucking sure I'll rip this city apart in outrage. When it comes to her, I'm not rational. I'm not cool and collected. I'm losing my goddamn mind every minute of the day obsessing about her. Two months ago, I was a sane man. Now, I'm herman.Her daddy.She owns every thought in my head, every minute of the day.
When she's mine, her feet won't touch the ground unless she wills it.
"Go on down to the party," I tell Sariah and Jill. "I'll escort her down when she's ready."
"Are you sure? I can wait."
"Positive," I say, waving them out.
Jill heads for the door like a frightened little mouse. Sariah follows behind her, far more calmly. I make a mental note to talk to Alaric about Jill. I don't care whose daughter she is. She'll never make it in fashion if she's scared of her own shadow.
As soon as they're gone, I resume pacing, slowly losing my mind. Five minutes tick by. Ten. Fifteen. My patience dwindles to nothing. I stomp toward the dressing room door, ready to find out what's taking her so long. Georgia may be a model, but she's not a diva and she's never late. Either this outfit is worse than Sariah let on or Georgia's intentionally trying to piss me off.
The door opens before I get there.
"Jesus Christ," I growl, staring at her as she steps out of the dressing room in her elf costume. On anyone else, the thing looks ridiculous. On her lush curves, it looks indecent. The skirt is barely long enough to cover her round ass. Her nipples are visible through the thin fabric of the top, the swells of her breasts spilling out the top. The red and white stockings make her legs look miles long.
There's no way I'm going to last through the night with her standing beside me dressed like this. I think she knows it too, the little minx. Her gray eyes meet mine across the room, full of challenge. One blonde brow arches as if she's silently daring me to back out.
I can't. I won't. I've been jerking off to fantasies of this girl since I met her. If she wants to play, I'll play. But I'm playing to win.
"What do you think?" she asks, twirling so the skirt flies up in the back.
The brief flash of white sends lust coursing through my veins.
"What do I think?" I pace across the room toward her, fighting the urge to yank her into the dressing room to fuck her raw here and now. "I think you're asking for trouble you aren't ready for, princess."
"Yeah?" She tips her head back, another challenge flashing in her eyes. "Then maybe you should look again because I was born ready, Blaze." She takes a step toward me, getting so close I see the pulse hammering in her throat. "Were you?"