Page 9 of Dirty Little Christmas

I hum a noncommittal response, and then paste a bright smile on my face when a couple strolls up to ask for a photo. A menacing growl rumbles from Blaze when the man tries to throw his arm across my shoulders. He's been doing it all night. If anyone even looks like they're going to touch me, he turns into a bristling, angry beast.

We should have put him in a Grinch costume. It's more fitting. He's awful grumpy.

"Whose idea was the costume?" he asks after the photographer snaps the picture and the couple heads back into the fray.

"I'm pretty sure my costume was your idea," I remind him.

"I told them to find you an elf costume. I did not tell them to turn you into every man's wet dream version of an elf," he says.

"Men have wet dreams about elves?" I wrinkle my nose. "That's…awkward."

Even in his coat, I feel his eyes land on every part of me as his gaze slowly prowls down my body. They heat me to the nth degree. Thank God the air is running in here or I'd be a mess on the floor by now.

"We do when the elves look like you, princess," he rumbles.

I feel his words grating against my womb. God, I love his voice. I'm pretty sure he could talk me into an orgasm at this point. He wouldn't even have to lift a finger. Hell, he wouldn't even have to read the dirty parts of one of my favorite books. He could do it talking about the weather…which sucks, by the way. I grew up in New York. White Christmases are far better than stormy Christmases. It stopped storming a while ago, but it's still raining buckets.

"Your costume was my idea," I murmur, and then pause when a teenager and a toddler in an adorable Mrs. Claus dress approach for a photo with Santa. This party is not kid appropriate, but there are a handful of them wandering throughthe drunken throng. Finding a babysitter this time of year is next to impossible, so I hear.

Blaze flips from surly Grinch to charming Santa in a blink. The little girl isn't a fan of dapper Santa, backing away instead of getting too close. He pulls a candy cane out of nowhere. Her blue eyes get big, and then she giggles. She finally gets the courage to approach him. He talks to her for a minute, asking what she wants for Christmas. She's maybe two. She wants a big puppy, which she calls a buppy. So cute.

Blaze fishes in his sack before pulling out a stuffed dog with floppy ears.

I don't even know where he got a sack, let alone one full of toys. I guess whoever was in charge of party planning wanted Santa to be prepared. They thought of everything. Except, you know, hiring a Santa who wasn't a felon.

The photographer snaps a photo of Blaze handing the stuffed dog to the little girl. She flings her arms around him in a hug of gratitude and then toddles off to show her big sister. Her sister waves a thank you at Blaze.

"This is a fashion brand," I say, smiling as they disappear into the milling crowd. "Why not make a statement with a fashionable Santa?"

"It's smart," he says, respect in his voice. "Everyone is loving it."

"Except you."

He smirks at me. I'm pretty sure the gates of hell just creaked open. "Oh, I plan to love it plenty when you're sitting on my lap, telling me every naughty thing you want me to do to you, Georgia."

My face gets hot. He keeps doing that! Saying dirty things to me. Growling dirty questions at me. Is it any wonder I'm a soaked mess under this coat and skirt? No. There's no way Sariah is getting these boy shorts back either. They're ruined.

"Maybe I'll tell you now," I say, smirking right back at him. "Where should I start?"

"With me putting you over my knee and spanking you in front of all these people," he growls, his smirk slipping. So grumpy. God, why is that so sexy? "Because that's exactly what's going to happen if you open that sweet mouth, little one."

I tap my bottom lip, pretending to think about it. Part of me wants to follow through just to see how he reacts. The other part recognizes that he absolutely will put me over his knee in front of this entire party. And then we'll be the talk of the town for a whole different reason. I decide to behave.

"Fine," I huff. "But now I might not tell you at all."

"Oh, you'll tell me even if I have to fuck it out of you."

Me. Puddle. Floor.

He knows he got me with that one, dang it. His eyes simmer with wicked intent.

Two can play this game.

"You can try," I say, stepping close enough to run my hand down his thigh. It's rock hard beneath my palm. His entire body is rigid with tension, his eyes snapping fire at me. "But I'm really good at keeping secrets,daddy."

I'm pretty sure they hear his growl at the North Pole. I'm pretty sure it shakes heaven too.

"Keep it up," he warns me, eyes glittering with lust, "and you won't be walking out of this party under your own authority, little girl. You'll be riding my cock all the way to the fucking door."

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