Page 52 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

Fingers digging into the soft wool of her skirt, he tugged the fabric up over the top of her thighs. His rough action made Octavia inhale a sharp breath of air. The sound sent his heart crashing into his chest before it pounded a fierce rhythm through his blood. Despite his body’s demand for immediate satisfaction, his fingers traced a line over her silky skin from her knee to the upper part of her thigh. A hard shudder vibrated off her and into his body at the light caress. Leaning into her, he kissed the side of her neck.

“Do you like me touching you like this, Aphrodite?”

“I…it’s…yes, very much,” she said, her voice husky and breathless.

“Good,” he murmured against her throat. “You’re not cold are you?”

“No,” she whispered. “I feel quite warm.”

Atticus lifted his head to meet her gaze, noting the way the pulse in her neck fluttered rapidly as she shook her head. Keeping his touch light, his fingers caressed the plump flesh at the apex of her thighs, and a soft sound of pleasure echoed out of her, while her mouth formed a small, round circle of surprise mixed with anticipation. With a smile, he slowly parted her slick folds, and her gaze locked with his before she jerked with surprise as he slid one finger into her and stroked her.

“Oh dear God,” she choked out as her eyes fluttered close. His heart slammed into his chest at how her body was already primed for him.

“You’re so hot and wet, sweetheart,” he murmured as he found the nub of flesh at the edge of her core and rubbed over it.

She jumped again, a small moan escaping her. Atticus slid a second finger into her tight channel, and then another, his caress gentle as he pressed against her core to stretch her slightly. Another moan passed her lips the moment he circled the plump bud of her sex with his thumb. Smiling, he leaned forward and nibbled at the base of her throat and kissed his way down to the tops of her breast. Above his head, she sighed his name with an achy hunger that squeezed at his heart.

God, the way she responded to him was intoxicating. Did she have any idea what a passionate creature she was? Even though his body cried out for her, he forced himself to focus solely on her pleasure. Her head fell backward, her hips moving against his hand in a silent demand for more.

Hot buttery cream coated his fingers as he increased the pace of his strokes, while he caressed and applied pressure to the sensitive spot deep inside her. Ecstasy crossed her face, signaling she was on the cusp of her climax. It was a look he wanted to see over and over again. A second later, she stiffened in his arms, and his heart raced as her core flexed, then contracted around his fingers in one spasm after another. Atticus’s mouth went dry at the thought of his cock experiencing every contraction of her hot core.

He ached to take her then and there, but he knew she wasn’t ready. She needed to be aroused to the point of irrational hunger if he were to ensure she suffered as little pain as possible. Slowly, her shudders ebbed, as her body sank into his, and her head came to rest on his shoulder. God, how he loved her. If she stayed like this in his arms forever, he would die a happy man.

Eyes closed, her harsh breaths slowly eased. Atticus withdrew his hand from under her skirt, and pulled it downward so it fluttered around her bare ankles, before he reached for the napkin at his place setting. After a long moment, her eyes fluttered open to stare up at him, while a quiet sigh of what he was certain was contentment slipped past her lips. Atticus smiled down at her, then lowered his head to press a tender kiss to her mouth.

“I take it you enjoyed that,” he murmured with a soft chuckle.

“Oh yes, very much.” Another soft sigh blew past her sweetly curved mouth. In an unexpected movement, she reached up to brush a lock of his hair away from his forehead.

“I never dreamt making love could be so blissful.”

“Making love?” Atticus chuckled at her puzzled frown. “That was just an appetizer, sweetheart. I intend to make you too limp to move by the end of tonight.”

Eyes widening in surprise, they softened to a slumberous, sensual gaze. He doubted she realized how seductive it made her look, but it was enough to arouse and heighten his need for her. Atticus swallowed hard, willing himself to suppress his desire. Catching her hand in his, he carried it to his mouth to caress her fingertips. The slight tremor pulsating against his lips at his tender gesture was a delightful sensation as he met her gaze.

Gray eyes dark with emotion, she studied him with an odd expression on her lovely face. What he saw flickering in her gaze sent his heart slamming into his chest. Was it possible she cared for him? A vise constricted painfully around his chest at the thought, while his mind told him not to hope for such a possibility.

Atticus cupped her face with his hands, then kissed her. It was a sweet, tender kiss, devoid of anything except the love he had to offer her. When he raised his head, Octavia’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him. Hope crashed through him once more, but he suppressed it for fear he was wrong.

“Now that I’ve eased your frustration, I’d like to enjoy what I’m certain is going to be the first of several delightful meals tonight.”

Octavia’s cheeks flushed with pink at his teasing, and Atticus laughed, then set her on her feet. In less than a minute, they were filling their plates with the food Octavia had prepared for their meal. His gaze surveyed the dishes on the table.

“For supposedly having so little in your larder, you managed to create a robust menu for our holiday dinner.”

“It was somewhat of a challenge to prepare a holiday meal that resembled the ones we have at Stapleton Hall, but I confess I’m pleased with how it all turned out.”

Atticus swallowed a bite of the parsnips and carrots puree on his plate, and looked at her in surprise as he savored the flavor. She smiled at his obvious pleasure.

“I take it parsnips and carrots puree is another of your favorite dishes.”

“Not usually, but I think this is incredibly tasty, as are these mushroom patties. You’re an excellent cook.”

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks growing pink with delight at his compliment. “I enjoy being in the kitchen.”

“Where did you learn to cook?” Atticus asked before he took a bite of minced cabbage.

“My aunt taught me. She and my mother learned…”