Page 56 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

“Atticus?” she whispered.

She pushed herself up to rest on her elbows and stared at him with a sleepy look of contentment. Her gaze met his as his hand wrapped around his cock in a firm grip. Gray eyes widening, she watched him intently, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. The innocence of her action tugged a dark growl of hunger out of his chest.

“I knew you would be radiant when I made you climax, and I was right,” he choked out. His gaze still locked with hers, he bobbed his head toward his erection. “See what you’ve done to me, Aphrodite? I’m not about to take you on the table. You deserve better than that. But God help me, I need to alleviate my hunger for you or I’ll go mad.”

Desperate to ease the savage need assaulting him, Atticus began to run his hand up and down his cock. Eyes widening with astonishment, Octavia stared at him in stunned fascination, her gaze riveted on the apex of his thighs as she watched him stroke himself. Pink lips formed a perfect circle of amazement, and an image of that delicious mouth of hers wrapped around his cock made him pump his flesh even harder. His gaze fell on her legs, which she’d closed, and he groaned.

“Open your legs wide, Aphrodite,” he ordered in a rough voice, aching to see her exposed to him. “Let me see you. Now.”

The scandalized gasp she uttered made his body harden, and he watched as she parted her legs for him with a hesitant, slow reluctance. Wet and glistening in the soft glow of the oil lamps, Atticus had never seen such a beautiful, exquisite core in all his life.

Pink and silky looking, he remembered how tangy she’d tasted against his tongue. The memory made him pump his cock even faster. The sudden sight of her fingers sliding between her folds made him inhale a sharp breath before he released it in a rough, guttural sound. Christ Jesus, the woman might be the death of him with her instincts for knowing what would arouse him even more.

As she stroked herself, his hand slid up and down his cock at a blistering pace. The instant his sacs pulled up tight, he uttered another hoarse growl. Eyes still focused on her fingers dipping into her wet heat, Atticus reached the pinnacle his body demanded, and shouted with pleasure as he spilled his seed.

Sagging in his chair, his eyes fell shut as the aftereffects of his climax eased to a dull, pleasurable throb. He heard the sound of her skirts rustling as she scooted off the table to stand over him. The fresh scent of violets drifted beneath his nose before warm lips pressed against his in a brief, gentle kiss.

“I found that dessert wonderful,” she said with a hint of mischief in her voice as she used a cloth napkin to clean his stomach. “May I have a second serving?”

Atticus opened his eyes to meet her sultry gaze. With a chuckle, he inhaled a deep breath and shook his head.

“I would never have thought you to be greedy, Octavia, but I’m delighted you enjoyed yourself.”

He grinned at her, and she smiled, bending her head to kiss him again. This time, her lips lingered for a bit longer. When she raised her head, her fingers brushed across his brow to push back a lock of his hair.

“I did like it—very much,” she said with a breathless laugh. “It was much better than gingerbread cake.”

“Gingerbread cake, hmmm?” Atticus arched an eyebrow as if mentally weighing the merits of which dessert was better. When she narrowed her gaze at him, he chuckled. “Most definitely better than cake. Not even gingerbread cookies taste as delicious as you do, Aphrodite.”

Color crested in her cheeks before her eyes softened to a slumberous, sensual gaze. While he doubted she realized it, her look was designed to seduce.

“I think I would like to taste you too,” she whispered.

The soft words sent a jolt of electricity buzzing through him at her willingness to be daring. His heart slammed into his chest as she bent over him again, her mouth teasing his in a lingering, tantalizing kiss. The instant her fingertips brushed over his cock, Atticus’s entire body snapped to attention. Any other woman’s touch wouldn’t have stirred the spent beast between his legs. But with just one kiss and the lightest of caresses, Octavia made his cock stir to life.

A low growl rolled past his lips, and he tugged her down into his lap to kiss her soundly, before he set her back on her feet. She murmured a soft, incoherent protest. The sound sent satisfaction skimming through him as he buttoned his trousers and smiled up at her.

Capturing the hand she’d used to stroke herself, he slid first one, and then another of her fingers into his mouth to lick her essence off her skin. The slight tremor pulsating against his lips was a delightful sensation as he watched her eyes flutter shut. Atticus released her and stood up.

The moment she stepped forward to press her body into his, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Arms wrapped around his neck, she stared up at him with a small smile. It held the sweetness of all that he loved about her, and a wave of happiness rushed through him. She was beautiful, and she was his, even if only for this one night.

Gray eyes suddenly darkened with an emotion that made his heart slam into his chest. It was what he’d seen in her gaze earlier, and for a second time he wondered if she had feelings for him? Feelings she was unwilling to reveal for fear of being hurt? If she was afraid to care for him, he understood why.

Unlike the fortune hunters who’d dogged her every move for just her dowry, Atticus was certain he was the first man who’d sought her out for who she was, not what she had to offer. While he was reasonably certain he’d convinced her that he had no need of her dowry, the bastards who’d pursued her had made her wary of men and their motives.

He’d be a fool to think she was willing to trust him so soon, even though he’d done everything he possibly could to convince her of his honorable intentions. She’d already agreed to marry him if her father approved of him, and Atticus believed the earl would approve with great enthusiasm.

While Atticus had no doubts Octavia would abide by her agreement to marry him, it didn’t mean she couldn’t demand they live in separate households or object to their sharing a bedroom. Demands he wasn’t about to agree to without a fight.

Could he make tonight memorable enough for her that she might confess she felt something more than desire for him? Feelings such as those he had for her? A vise encircled his chest as he told himself not to hope for such a possibility. Atticus lowered his head and kissed her.

It was a sweet, tender caress, devoid of anything except his love and the silent offer of his heart. When he raised his head, Octavia’s eyes fluttered open to stare at him with an emotion that wavered between bewilderment and longing. It was just enough emotion to make Atticus believe his chances of winning her heart were stronger than he’d realized.

Patience was the key to ensuring that happened, and where Octavia was concerned, that was something he held in short supply. Steeling himself to take things slow, Atticus smiled as he tapped his forefinger against her lips.

“Despite the fact that both of us would enjoy a repeat of that delicious dessert, we should clean up our meal first. Once I have you naked, I’ve no intention of letting you leave my side.” Atticus chuckled as Octavia’s cheeks grew fiery red.

With another quick kiss, he pulled her around the table to where their plates were, and together, they quickly cleared their meal. They worked together in companionable silence as they cleaned the dishes and wrapped up what was left of their meal to take with them on their journey back to the Hall. He finished drying the last pot and hung it on a wall hook close to the sink.