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's definitely 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 her man. 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?"

Was I born ready for her? Hell no. I was born for her.

"Keep it up and the whole party will hear you screaming for me, Georgia," I growl in her ear. "Is that what you want? For everyone to hear me fucking my kid into you?"

"Blaze," she moans.

I know her number now, though. I saw it lurking in those eyes today when she said she's always wanted to sit on my lap. I'll let her sit. But she'll be bouncing on my cock the whole time.

"It's daddy to you, princess. Practice saying it," I demand, nipping her ear. "You'll be screaming it later."

I'm a little surprised when she doesn't immediately slap me across the face. Part of me expects her to do exactly that…and then flee in revulsion. But Georgia never does what I expect. She's perfect for me in every fucking way imaginable. So she doesn't slap me. She doesn't flee either. Instead, she whimpers my name in the sweetest voice I've ever heard.

"You can't say things like that." Her mouth says one thing, but her body says another. It quivers against mine. Those perfect breasts heave in her tiny top as if she can't stay still. As if she's hurting for me too.

"Yeah? I bet if I flipped that little skirt up right now, you'd be wet, Georgia."

"That's the problem!" she cries, turning wide gray eyes up to me. Jesus. They're so dilated with desire they perfectly match the storm clouds that roiled all afternoon. The storm moved on a little while ago but looking in her eyes is just like staring out the window. Only Los Angeles doesn't stare back. My fucking soul does. "I…I like it too much, Blaze."

Ah, fuck.

"Oh, little one," I breathe, wrapping my hand around her jaw. I bring her face up to mine, dropping kisses on that sweet mouth. I'm in serious trouble here. Those lips taste like candy. "Daddy is going to have so much fun playing with you tonight."

She sobs my name, letting me know I didn't misread anything. She needs a daddy, and she chose me for the job.

I take the opportunity her open mouth presents, thrusting my tongue into it. I'm too impatient to wait. I need to kiss this girl right the fuck now. She needs it too. I may be slow on the uptake, but I get it now, why she's been giving me hell for the last two months straight. She's been hurting for me. I want to howl at the realization that I've left the poor baby in pain.

No more. Never again. If she wants this, who the hell am I to say it's wrong? Nothing about her is anything less than right. Fuck anyone who doesn't agree. If she needs a daddy, I'll be the best goddamn daddy in this world.

I flick my tongue against hers, the blood thickening in my veins. Ah. God. I'm going to stay drunk on this girl. I already know it. I already feel it happening. One taste. That's the price of salvation. One kiss. That's the cost of my soul. There's no slipping into heaven for me now. Not when the road to hell is paved in glitter and doused with sugar like this.

Her tongue works with mine, tentative at first, as if she's testing it out. As if she's never been kissed before now. Fuck, she probably hasn't. She's an innocent little angel, and I'm about to dirty her all up.

I should probably feel badly about that. I don't.

I should probably put a stop to it. I won't.

She's mine.

"Goddamn, that mouth," I growl, backing her up against the door. She doesn't need any encouragement to climb my body. She does it like a pro, desperate to get back to my mouth. She's an eager little thing. I plant my hands on her ass, boosting her up to lock her legs around my waist.

"Kiss it again," she demands.

As if anyone could stop me.

I angle her head and give her what she wants, seaming my mouth to hers. Her breath trembles against my lips. I inhale it into my lungs, greedy for every part of her. I can live off her air. She'll live off mine. Nothing else will suffice. I've tasted heaven now. I'll tear it down brick by brick before giving it up.

I grind her against my erection, a little preview of what she'll be getting later. All nine inches of it. Repeatedly.

"Blaze," she moans, writhing in ecstasy.

"Holy shit."

Georgia freezes in my arms as soon as she hears Alaric's voice. I love my brother. Honest, I do. But right now, all I want for Christmas is to be an only child.

"Alaric, get out," I growl as Georgia scrambles to dismount. I refuse to let her go. She's hidden by my overcoat, pinned between my body and the wall. If he sees any part of her, it's the top of her elf hat bobbing as I grind her sweet center on her new throne.

I should stop doing that. I know I should…but I can't. I don't. She's so wet, she's leaving a spot on my pants. I fully intend for it to soak clean through my boxers before I put her down. If I have to go to this fucking party, my dick is getting at least a taste of her first. After two months, he's earned that much.

Georgia moans my name, shaking in my arms when my dick nudges her clit again.

"Just came to let you know they're ready for you downstairs," Alaric says.

"Out. Now," I growl.

"Yep, leaving." The door clicks closed behind him a moment later.

"Kiss me, Georgia," I demand, nipping her bottom lip.

"Blaze."

"Kiss me, little one," I growl.

She jumps to obey, crashing her mouth down on mine so hard our teeth clack together. I use my hands on her ass to grind her against me, listening for the hitch in her breath and the way she sobs every time I hit the right spot.

"B-Blaze, I…"

"What's my name, Georgia?"

"D-daddy," she whispers. "Daddy."

"Good girl." I kiss her again, playing with her tongue like it's my favorite new toy. Who am I kidding? Every spot on her body is my favorite new toy. And I'm not sharing a single fucking part of it. No one sees her. No one touches her. I will destroy anyone who thinks of testing me. "Now, be a real good girl and come before we get caught again. You don't want daddy in trouble, do you?"

"No," she sobs. "No, daddy."

I groan when she works her wide hips, helping me get her off. Fuck, we should have been doing this two months ago.

I'm an idiot. Big time.

She comes with a sharp cry of release, as if she's needed it desperately. Somehow, hearing it makes me rage and fills me with an overpowering sense of relief at the same time. I'm fucking livid I left her hurting for this long. I feel her relief so acutely it's as if it's my own.

I watch her as she rides it out, the prettiest little elf I've ever seen. She's flushed the sweetest pink, her lipstick all messed up, lips parted. My beard left little marks on her skin, branding her as mine. She's a vision, exactly what I wanted for Christmas.

Goddamn, I can't wait until this party is over.