Page 10 of Dirty Little Christmas

"Blaze," I moan, and then startle when an older man wanders over for a photo.

"Touch her and I'll remove your hands," Blaze barks when he tries to put his arm around me.

I turn a withering glare on him. It does nothing, of course. He simply arches a brow, waiting for the poor guy to decide if hewants to test Blaze or not. Thankfully, he doesn't get offended. He doesn't test him either. He just chuckles and holds his hands up to the sky.

"Smart man you have there," he says.

We pose for the photo.Heposes. I'm still reeling.

He winks at me before wandering off.

"How long have you wanted me to be your daddy, princess?" Blaze asks as soon as the old man is out of earshot.

I bite my tongue, hesitant to answer. I may have called him that in the sewing room and again just a minute ago, but if I answer this question, I confirm his suspicions. My secret is out and there's no taking it back. He won't just suspect. He'll know this is what I want from him.

Is this how Pandora felt before she opened the box? Was she excited like I am? Did she know what she was doing was something she couldn't take back? If she did, I don't think she wanted to be able to take it back. I don't.

"How long, Georgia?" he growls.

"Since I met you," I snap, unable to resist the command in his voice. "On day one, I wanted it."

He rocks back in his seat, a sharp curse leaving his lips. For a minute, I think he's pissed. And then I catch sight of his hands. He's clinging to the arms of the chair with so much force he's in danger of snapping the wood clean in two.

A blast of heat rips through me. I bite my lip against a sob, aching in ways I can't even put into words. Thereareno words. It hurts and doesn't hurt enough. What is he doing to me? How is he doing it? He hasn't even touched me, and I'm more turned on than I ever have been in my life.

Why do I like it so much? Why don't I ever want him to stop making me feel this way?

As another woman approaches, swaying on her feet, he stands abruptly, flinging a hand up.

"I'm done," he growls. I don't think he's talking to her. I think he's talking to me. Iknowhe is when he thrusts a hand in my direction. "Let's go, princess."

I don't even hesitate to slip my hand into his.

I'd follow him anywhere. Even to hell itself.

Chapter Five

Blaze

Georgia's trembling by the time I pull her into the back of the limo waiting to whisk us away. Her knees actually knock together as I help her into the vehicle, raindrops splattering us both. As soon as she's in, I spin on the driver. He's a full two decades older than I am, his chest concave in his crisp chauffeur suit. Like most professional drivers, his expression is perfectly blank, a look honed by years of practice.

"Keep the privacy screen up and your eyes on the fucking road," I snarl anyway. The thought of him seeing any part of what I do to Georgia in this limo pisses me off. But there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my hands to myself.

"Of course, sir." He doesn't even bat a lash. I'm guessing he's been down this road before. Not with me. Georgia is the only woman I'll be taking home with me. It'll be her home soon enough anyway. Everything I have will be hers soon. But this is Los Angeles. People fuck in limos and taxis all over this city.

Satisfied he'll give us privacy, I climb into the car with Georgia. And immediately want to snarl for an entirely different reason. The entire limo smells like her.

She's on the far side of the luxury vehicle, prowling through shit like it's her job.

"I've never been in a limo before," she says, pulling bottles out of the minibar one by one to examine them. She turns her nose up at most of them before putting them back where she found them. One, she tucks into the pocket of the overcoat I gave her. It looks better on her than it did on me. Though, she could dress in a potato sack, and I'd feel the same way. She's stunning.

"Come here," I demand, stretching out in the seat across from her to give my dick a little room. I jerk at my tie, pulling it loose. The damn thing has been strangling me since she stepped out of the dressing room earlier tonight.

"Why? I'm busy."

"Now, little one," I growl.

The driver climbs in. A second later, the privacy partition slides into place.

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