Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
She's tempting the beast.
If she knew how many times I've thought about bending her over my desk and fucking the sass out of her, she'd be horrified. Or maybe she'd like it. I'm not sure which messes me up more. The fact that I've been hard for her since she waltzed into my office the first day on the job and turned my world upside down…or the fact that I'm pretty certain she wants me too.
The only problem?
She's almost half my age, only twenty, and as innocent as they come. And I want her screaming for daddy so badly I'm ready to set fire to this entire planet and watch it burn. I don't just want her in my bed. I want her on my lap, eating from my hand. I want to be the man who takes care of her, who protects her…and then bends her over and rails her senseless.
Until I met her, I didn't know I had a kink. I've been celibate for years, focused on more important shit—like running the plus-size fashion empire my mom left me and my brother. I realized exactly two point five seconds after Georgia smiled at me that I was sadly mistaken. I've been trying like hell to avoid giving into the urge, but I'm at the end of my rope.
Her final shoot is 3 days after Christmas. If she isn't mine by then, I'm not going to be responsible for the damage I do to God's green earth.
It's fucked up, I know. But it is what it is.
Ho ho…hell. I'm going to hell for Christmas.
At this point, I'd drive the bus myself just for a taste of her.
"Your suit is ready, Mr. Parrish."
I turn from the window to find Jill, our newest intern, standing in the doorway with a garment bag draped over her arm. A Santa hat dangles from one finger. A pair of shiny black boots hang from another. Her overly bright smile is a dead giveaway that all is not calm here.
"What suit?" I growl.
"Um, for the Christmas party tonight?" she squeaks. The garment bag trembles on her arm like she's afraid I'm going to eat her alive for bringing me a suit I know nothing about.
Jesus. I haven't been that bad, have I?
Maybe.
The closer we get to Georgia's final shoot, the worse my temper grows. Sue me. I've been unrelentingly hard for two months straight. It's enough to make anyone crazy.
"I didn't order a suit, Jill." I cut my eyes at the garment bag. "Especially not a Santa suit."
"Oh." Her thin lips pull down into a frown. "Georgia said you were playing Santa tonight at the party…. Maybe I misunderstood."
Georgia. Of course she's behind this.
"I'm sure you didn't," I mutter, my tone dry. This right here is exactly why I can't get our new model out of my head. She's exactly the right combination of devilish and sweet to keep my blood pumping and my blood pressure soaring. I never know what she's going to do next to stress me out.
I shouldn't find that nearly as attractive as I do, and yet every single time she throws some new wrench into my plans or hits me with a curve ball, I want to scoop her up into my arms and ravish her body with pleasure until she breaks.
She needs a daddy to settle her little ass down.
That man will be me. It has to be me. If it's not, I'm going to snap. End of story.
But I'm not playing fucking Santa Claus tonight. If my little princess thinks otherwise, she's going to be sorely disappointed.
"Give me the suit," I say, thrusting out my hand. "I'll handle it."
Jill darts forward, shoving it into my hands like it's cursed. She nearly takes my finger off with the boots.
I bite out a smile. Judging by the way her face pales, it's not a friendly one.
"Thank you," I add for good measure.
She scurries out again, her brown hair practically flying behind her. I'm killing my brother for hiring her. She's a sweet girl, but she's terrified of her own shadow. I have a design room full of temperamental artists. They're going to eat her alive.
I toss the suit over my arm and follow her out, turning right toward Alaric's office. I find him at his desk, his feet up, his tie undone, tossing a stress ball at the ceiling. Though, why he has said ball in the first place, I don't know. Alaric never stresses about anything. He's more likely to be causing stress than feeling the selfsame.
"Do you ever actually work?" I ask him.
"Nope." He catches the ball before launching it into the air again. "You won't let me see the pictures of Georgia, so I'm on strike."
I growl a wordless warning. Hell will freeze over before he sees those photos. He may be my brother, but I will bury his body where no one will ever find it. It's not like he really wants to see the pictures anyway. He just likes fucking with me. He knows exactly how gone I am over her. It's quality entertainment as far as he's concerned.