Page 37 of Moth to Her Flame

Leaning low, I rub my cheek on the furry pelt on his chest, keeping back my moan of appreciation. I nuzzle it with my nose, capturing his scent in some primitive desire to cover myself in it, be drenched in it.

“You’re a handsome male, Riven,” I whisper, protecting his slumber even as a selfish part of me wishes he would wake up and kiss me… and more.

Sitting up, I slide my fingers through his long hair. The amber layers remind me of 80s hair bands. I’ve got to admit, even a mullet would look good on him.

My nipples are tight, two hard beads pressing against my gray tee. Just these chaste movements have me dripping for him.

I’ll keep this up, maybe speak a little louder, and see if my sleeping Mothman might wake up.

Pressing my palm to his face, I tuck my lips close to his ear and tell him what I’ve been fantasizing about for days.

“I’ve started to think about you as I pleasure myself, Riven.” This embarrasses me so much, I think no sound came out with my words, only breath. “I’ve lain in bed at night straining to hear if perhaps you were doing the same thing on the couch in my living room.

I’m trying not to grind on him. That would be over the imaginary line I’ve decided upon. But still, the desire to rub against him is growing urgent.

“I want you in my mouth, Riven.” My demands are growing louder. In response, his antennae twitch. “I want to suck you, Mothman. I want to taste you.”

I can see his eyes moving now beneath his lids. He’s swimming up from sleep. Will he be angry or thrilled to wake up to me spread wide across his hips?

“Would you like that, Riven? Would you like my mouth on you?”

With that, his eyes flare open and he seems instantly awake. His gaze arrows to mine as his mouth pops open. His wings are as brilliant as if they’re on fire.

“Chelsea?”

So many questions in that one word. He doesn’t need to ask them out loud. I’ll supply all the answers.

“I want to make you feel good. I’d like to see your body. All of it. And, Riven, I’d like to lick you all over.”

“Chels—”

I press a finger over his lips.

“Ask me to leave and I will. You need only say one word. But I’d prefer we not discuss it. Let me just say I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this.”

He pulls my finger from his lips and maneuvers my palm over his mouth. There, he delivers the sweetest, hottest kiss in the history of the world. It’s full of promise and desire and when that slim probe dances there, half tickle, half devilish tease, I finallygive in to the pounding urge to ride the hard ridge between his legs.

We’re separated by my flannel pants, his jeans, and two quilts, and yet this position is so hot I decide to stop before I come prematurely.

“Let me put my mouth on you, here.” I press my palm, feather-soft, on his arousal, leaving no doubt about exactly what I want.

“I would love that, Chels. I’ve dreamed of it, both awake and asleep. You told me not to ask questions, to take you at your word that you know what you want. But, Chelsea, before we go farther, you need to know… I’m not built like a man.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chelsea

Every nerve ending in my body seems to spark to life under that molten gold stare. His wings create patterns of light that paint my skin in warm honey tones, and the way his antennae quiver betrays how affected he is by our proximity. The air between us feels thick with possibility and barely contained need.

This time it’shimwho’s daringmeto ask questions. There’s something about the words he just spoke, the way his eyes don’t flinch from mine, that sparks heat straight to my core.

Although there might be a part of me that’s terrified of what I’m going to encounter south of his waist, my body is thrumming with desire. The air between us feels thick with possibility. Mostof me is so aroused I imagine everyone in the mountain might be able to scent it.

The room is silent for so long, the only sound is our quickened breathing and the subtle rustle of his wings as they cast shifting patterns of gold across the walls. I see the desire in his eyes start to dim. Does he think I’m not interested? I need to put an end to that train of thought right now.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting.” My voice comes out husky, barely above a whisper, but his antennae quiver in response.

Perhaps he thought he was calling my bluff because now he seems paralyzed, his antennae vibrating in that way I’ve learned means he’s trying to maintain control.

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