Atticus's Angel

by Pearl Tate

  Ashlyn swivels slightly, dropping the covers to her lap as she reaches for the tool. “I can show you.”

  Embarrassed, I hand it over, torn between staring at her exposed chest now completely within my reach and wanting to watch and learn the trick to this “comb.”

  Drawing her long hair over her shoulder, she exposes her blooming mating marks. They’re faint, but her skin’s so pale, they appear as a blush pink shimmering on the surface of her skin. Distracted by them, I run my fingers around the lines as she shivers slightly under my touch.

  Remembering what she’s doing, I turn my attention to her hands. In one, she’s grasping the last length of her hair and gently picking the end of the strands. Watching with fascination, I see her move the comb up a little higher each time, working the knots through to the end. Clever.

  While she concentrates on her hair, I turn my attention to her breasts, hovering under her hands. The dusky nipples are hard, and my mouth waters thinking about tasting them. In fact, I want to taste all of her.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, I brush my fingers over one stiff peak, watching in awe as the tip stiffens even more, lengthening as a low moan comes from Ashlyn in front of me. “Is that alright?” I question softly.

  Nodding quickly, she goes back to working the comb higher up her strands, smoothing the length below it slowly. When I cup her breast in my hand, feathering my thumb over the tip slowly, she melts back into me, leaning into my chest so trustingly and thrusting the stiff nub harder against my palm.

  Wrapping my other arm around her, I cradle her still cupping her chest as she works on her hair. I don’t understand all the raging in my body. The sensible part of me wants to take it slow and make sure that she’s comfortable, but if I’m reading her body language correctly, she’s more than comfortable.

  In fact, from what I can sense through our bond, she’s reveling in my touch. It’s as if she’s starved for the attention, and I want to give her all of it. All my focus. All of me.

  Her head shifts against my chest, and the wet strands distract me from my dick that’s sliding against her silky skin on her lower back. I can’t see it, but it feels hard. More pressure begins to build as her weight settles, and she shifts again, smoothing the strands in her hand down the length to the end.

  Releasing one of her rounded breasts I’m still stroking, I reach for the comb and her hand stops moving to tilt it toward me. Now that I know what I was doing incorrectly, I’m ready to try again. Instead of having her sit up, I run my hand up her chest to tilt her face to the side before dipping the comb prongs into her mass of dark waves.

  “Just relax and let me finish it up.” What a difference having the length below her shoulders makes. Carefully, I work the comb through the strands as she reclines back against me. Her eyes close as she savers the attention, enjoying my ministrations.

  When I’ve completed the one side, I shift her head to face the other way so I can complete the process. Although I’m paying attention to my progress, I’m also studying her body. Everything about her is dainty, from her tiny toes to her exquisite hair. My eyes return again and again to the dark patch of flossy curls at the apex of her thighs.

  As I finish, I set the comb aside to slide both my hands down her shoulders, rubbing lightly in small circles. The air around us seems to crackle as our bodies respond to each other. Skating around her chest, she arches under me, rubbing against my throbbing length with her low back.

  We both groan as my hand trails down her stomach, lowering until I’m hovering just above her slightly parted thighs. From the way she’s responding, spreading her legs further, inviting me to indulge and touch her. I believe she’s just as aroused as I am. “Can I touch you here?”

  My finger points to the dark curls that hide her hidden treasures from me. Her breathy voice is music to my ears as she exhales, “Yes.”

  Not wanting to lose the moment, my fingers lower, sliding through the damp cleft where I’m immediately met with her engorged clit. I can feel it throb under my fingers as I stroke it lightly, and she jerks in my arms. Pausing, I question her, “Was that alright?”

  Ashlyn’s surprised face turns to me, looking up just below my chin. “Yes… it felt so good.” It’s clear by her expression that her response was quite a shock to her. I don’t know what her experiences have been, but surely she’s touched herself before.

  Sliding an additional finger next to the first, I apply more pressure along each side of her clit with her bud caught snugly between them. “Haven’t you ever touched yourself here?”

  Starting to giggle, her body shakes against me before she finally gasps out, “Of course. When I wipe and clean myself.”

  Could she really mean she’s never touched herself here with arousal? There’s no doubt, if I’d been capable of an erection, I’d have brought myself to release… hundreds of times.

  Her body’s slick lubricant coats my fingers as I curve them gently and slowly move up and down, noting the way her cunt weeps in excitement for me. I feel my own cock pushing against her with each thrust of my fingers as her mouth drops open, and she begins to pant. I can sense her awe and happiness as I pick up speed, wondering if she’ll always be this responsive to my touch.

  It’s no surprise to me that I’m feeling a tightening in my own body that I recognize as meaning I’m beginning to lose control. What is surprising, is how there’s no pain or uncomfortable pressure. It doesn’t hurt at all, even pinched tightly against her back. Only pleasure shoots out from the spot our bodies meet.

  Trying to concentrate exclusively on bringing her to climax, I lean down, whispering against her ear. “Does this feel good when I stroke you here?” Her hand grasps mine where my palm cups her chest, unable to leave the stiff peak alone. I want to lick, suck and even bite her here.

  “Yes.” Her head turns towards me, eyes a slit and full of passion as she continues to pant lightly. “I… it’s… feeling… Atticus!” Ashlyn’s crying my name in completion will be burned in my memory for the rest of my life. Pleasure bursts between us as I share her ecstasy, and my own body responds. Wave after wave of rapture cascades over us both.

  The entire experience is humbling as I realize I’ve released all over her back and my stomach. When our breathing settles, and I can finally speak, I comment, “That was incredible.”

  Instead of answering, she tilts her head back at an inviting angle. When our lips meet briefly for the first time, happiness bursts through me with the reality that I have my mate. Right here, right now, in bed with me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  - Ashlyn

  Coming awake slowly, I feel extremely warm. That’s so unusual, that it takes a moment before I realize why. I’m not in my bed at home—alone.

  My upstairs bedroom was always hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The current crisp, fall weather, was one of the seasons of year I found decent for sleeping. But right now, I’m lying on my side, and I can feel the warm, large frame of the man behind me.

  Atticus. The kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met. It’s so unusual for anyone to ever look at me.

  Really look at me.

  When you aren’t pretty and you’re classified as handicapped, people have a tendency to let their eyes skate across you, never really actually looking at you. But I feel like Atticus really looks at me and actually gets me. I can feel a flush begin on my face as it heats, remembering the way he touched me last night.

  Sure, I knew that having babies meant sex, and sex means having the man’s penis go inside me. But what Atticus did last night was beautiful. The entire experience felt like a dream. When his hand touched between my legs, all I could do was practically beg him to continue.

  Not out loud, of course. But he seemed to understand what to do.

  I’d no idea it would be so wonderful and perfect—and feel so good! My mother always warned me not to let anyone touch me there. She said it was wrong. That I could get myself in trouble.

  Sur
ely, this is different though. This man… an alien man, Atticus, he’s my mate. The perfect person for me, so I don’t have to ever worry about him doing something that could get me in trouble.

  He’s going to teach me to help him. I’ll be like a nurse!

  We’ll have our own show like Grey’s Anatomy… he even looks quite a bit like Patrick Dempsey, only with longer hair. Actually, he’s better looking, I think.

  Wiggling slightly, I pull my body away from the solid wall of heat against my back. I can feel our bodies peel apart, and I realize we’re both still naked! The idea’s foreign and scandalous after the way I was raised.

  I wasn’t ever allowed to be naked at home, even for bed. Looking over to the corner, I see my backpack, still opened in the corner. There are night clothes in there, but Atticus kissed me after he touched me, and my mind shut off. Then he took off to get a towel and cleaned us both up before crawling back into bed.

  Maybe I was exhausted, because I don’t remember anything after that. “You’re awake early.” Atticus’s deep voice has a growly tone to it, and I snatch up the covers to hide my chest before I turn to him self consciously.

  Smirking, he reaches up and tugs lightly on the covers that I’m clutching white-knuckled to my chest. “You don’t need to ever cover yourself in front of me, Ashlyn. You’re beautiful, and I’d like to see your body every opportunity that I can.”

  I can’t even look at him as his soothing voice rumbles across my senses. I hear him, but I’m so in my head right now that I don’t think I’m processing everything properly. It’s hard to concentrate on his words, but as he pulls on the blanket, the soft fabric slips from my fingers. When his large hand settles on my shoulder, I snap back to the present. The already familiar feeling of us touching bringing me back to him.

  As I look up, I try to focus on his eyes that meet mine. “Ready to get up?”

  Nodding, I throw my gaze around the room. Where does he keep his clothes?

  Mine are in the backpack that looks so far away. I don’t understand it, but when he was touching me like last night, all my inhibitions just seemed to melt away. But now, I’m not sure I can get up and get my clothing. Biting my lip, I watch him pull away and climb out of bed, totally nude.

  He’s so perfect. Atticus’s skin is the color of butterscotch candy, and the thought has my mouth watering. I could eat him right up. His hair’s dancing around his face and shoulders as he walks to a panel on the wall and presses it lightly, exposing a cabinet that contains more of his grey uniforms.

  I watch as he steps from one foot to the other into the legs of his pants. Is it wrong that I like to watch the way his butt flexes? I don’t think it’s wrong to look at my new mate dress. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he swings around and catches me gawking.

  “I can feel your interest…” Taking a big inhale, he drops forward on the bed, landing right in front of me on his stomach. “… and smell your need.” The smile he gives me lets me know that this is a good thing, even though I’m not exactly sure what he means.

  Dropping my gaze, I pluck at the cover in my lap, trying to determine how to ask my question. “My need?”

  His hand comes into view as he reaches for my chin, lifting it to meet his smiling face. “Oh, yes. Your need.” Rolling onto his back, Atticus’s head settles onto my lap as his hair goes wild around us. Looking down at him upside down on my thighs makes me smile. Strands of his crazy hair dance in my palms while other parts travel up my shoulders and neck, tickling me slightly.

  “Our sense of smell is much more advanced than yours. We’re able to scent and determine minute changes in the air… and I love to catch the scent of my mate wanting me.”

  That’s what that means? My face heats as I realize he can smell me wanting him? That’s… kind of… weird.

  “Don’t be shy. I love it, and now that I know you enjoy it when I touch you, maybe tonight we could do it some more?” I feel his eyes watching me closely, even though I can’t peer back.

  Instead, I nod, studying the strands of hair that float around us, picking up speed. I did love it. It was magical.

  At the end there, my body exploded, tightening all over and making me experience the most incredible pleasure that I’ve ever known. How did he do that?

  “Alright!” When he pulls away, I immediately feel the loss as he stands and fastens his jumpsuit with his back to me. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone to get ready while I make us something to eat.” Atticus only look back at me briefly, winking as the door slides soundlessly closed behind him.

  Scrambling from the bed as soon as he’s gone, I spring into action, pulling clean clothing from my bag. I only have two sets of these white garments so I need to ask him if there’s a washing machine here I can use. If he can really smell that “need” on me—well, he’ll be able to smell when I stink, too. That would be embarrassing!

  By the time I’ve washed up and used the facilities, Atticus has laid out an elaborate breakfast of food I’ve never seen before. Brock’s already seated at the table, and my footsteps slow the nearer I get.

  I’m not scared of him, really… just more cautious. As I pull out the chair and sit down slowly, he doesn’t appear quite as intimidating. He looks up, a huge smile lights up his face. “There you are! I wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you before I left.”

  When I look up at Atticus, who’s setting down another bowl of something unidentifiable on the table, he explains. “Brock’s going down to Dactyles today to meet his mate. He’s very excited.”

  “Like you were excited yesterday…” Brock wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I can’t help but blush and smile, dropping my eyes to study my lap. He’s so large and intimidating with his elaborate mating marks that go up under his neck like a tattoo collar, but there’s also something so different about his…

  “Your mating marks…” Once I started, I realize I’m committed even though my voice gives out before I can finish. They’re both staring at me waiting, and I can feel my body tremble as my question dies on my lips.

  Atticus is immediately behind me, wrapping his large arms around my shoulders as he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Yes, what is it?”

  Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and try to gather my thoughts, my eyes dropping to the many bowls scattered across the table. “They look darker than ours?” I’m not even sure Brock can hear me, my voice is so low, but when he laughs, I look up to see I haven’t offended him a bit.

  Shrugging, he scoops another serving of what must be fruit salad onto his plate. “No idea. Absolutely no idea why I have more, and they’re darker than everyone else’s even though I haven’t even met her yet. Weird, huh?”

  Atticus’s arms tighten around me as he straightens, still resting his chin on my head. “I don’t know if I’d call it weird. Different. But maybe everyone is different. Some of us see our mates in daily reflections, some of us don’t. Some of us can sense where their mate is, some can’t. There’s still so much we have to learn and until everyone starts recording their experiences so we can compare them—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. I will, I will.” I laugh at how human Brock sounds, and both Brock and Atticus freeze at the sound.

  As Atticus steps away from behind me after a second, he catches my hand and tugs me over to a chair, pulling it out for me to sit down. “It is funny, I guess. But this is all new for us.”

  Wiggling slightly, I clear my throat and look at our hands, squeezing him in an effort to communicate. Licking my lips, I try to explain. “No… I mean, I wasn’t laughing at him about his mating marks. Just about how he sounded—so human.”

  Atticus squeezes my hand in response before releasing me and sitting down next to me at the table. “Well, Brock has spent the most time with the human females Shelly and Beth. They both live on the ship too and have for quite a few rotations. We’ve both spent quite a bit of time learning as much as we can about their physiology and making sure we’re prepared to take care of them in an
y situation that might arise.”

  Just hearing him talk about them again—the other human women—makes something funny happen to my insides. A churning ball of… anger and frustration makes me concentrate on the food that Atticus is dishing up small piles of onto my plate. I don’t understand why I feel like this? I can’t be… jealous of women I’ve never met, right?

  “I’m going to give you a little bit of everything so you can taste it all and then we can get you a new plate for what you like best, alright?” As I look up at Atticus working so hard to make me happy, feeding me and totally taking care of me, I realize how ridiculous I’m being. But I can’t seem to squash down the unease I feel.

  Setting the spoon down, Atticus grabs my chair and yanks it closer to his, rocking me slightly. Wrapping his arm around the back of my chair behind me, he leans in and whispers in my ear. “You don’t ever have to worry about another female. I can tell what you’re feeling and that should never bother you.”

  He can tell! That’s so unfair. So far, I don’t think I’ve been able to tell what he’s feeling. Not for certain. How does he do that?

  My eyes fill with tears of embarrassment before I can stop them. “Oh, Ashlyn. Really, it’s okay. Let me hold you.” Pulling me into his lap, I immediately feel better. There’s so much that I don’t understand, it’s overwhelming.

  I feel Atticus shift under me, but don’t look up from my hands that I’m folding and unfolding against my stomach. Concentrating on the soothing comfort and warmth he always shares with me, my mind drifts before a gentle squeeze has me looking up to see a spoon—or is it a fork?—in front of my face.

  “Try this,” Atticus urges as I automatically open my mouth. Sweetness bursts across my tongue as the dish that Brock was eating last is spooned into my mouth.

  Brock! How embarrassing…

  Glancing over my shoulder, I’m surprised to see he’s gone. I didn’t even hear him leave. Atticus spoons another helping toward my face, commenting just like my mother. “You have to eat so we can go out, and I’ll show you how to help me today.”