Page 45 of Moth to Her Flame

He returns his attention to my clit and then slides one finger inside my drenched core, finding the same spot and working it as his probe works my clit.

His antennae are fully erect now, their feathers fanning out, picking up every nuance of my arousal. His wings ripple with light, reflecting the rhythm of our shared pleasure. He groans, a sound that vibrates through me, adding another layer to the symphony of sensations he’s playing on my body.

I feel my orgasm building, a wave of heat and pressure that starts in my core and radiates outwards. My hips buck against him, urgent, demanding. He responds by increasing the pace, thepressure, and adding another finger as his own body trembles with the effort to hold back his release.

“Chelsea,” he breathes, my name a sacred word on his lips. “Come for me. Let me taste your pleasure.”

And I do. The moment his probe returns to its task, the wave crashes over me, my body convulsing with the force of my orgasm. I cry out, my voice echoing through the chamber.

So much ecstasy! My muscles spasm with physical pleasure, but it’s the emotional intimacy that jacks my arousal into the stratosphere.

Riven’s wings open wide, pulsating with a brilliance that matches the intensity of my climax. As he moans his own release. Both hands are on my thighs, splitting them wide. Did he just come from giving me pleasure?

He continues to caress me gently, his probe and fingers milking every last wave of bliss from my body. His gaze never leaves mine as he rides the wave down with me, the connection between us deepening with each shared moment.

As the last tremors subside, he moves up my body, his wings still glowing but now with a softer, more intimate light. He kisses me deeply, his probe tasting of me as he explores my mouth with tenderness and passion.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper against his lips, my hands stroking his antennae, feeling their soft feathers quiver under my touch.

He smiles, a soft, contented smile that lights up his face. “You make me feel amazing,” he murmurs. “Moths use their proboscis for nectar. Trust me, this Mothman never tasted anything so sweet.”

“Really? After that sublime experience, you’re dishing out lame jokes?”

His gaze stabs me with sincerity as he responds, “That was no joke, love. I could wait another lifetime to taste you again, although I hope I won’t have to.”

This male is the sweetest, sexiest thing on the planet. How could I not fall for him?

His wings wrap around us, cocooning us in a warmth that feels both protective and incredibly intimate. His hands roam over my body, touching, caressing, worshipping.

“Riven,” I say, my voice gentle but firm. “I want you. All of you. You need it.”

“Sorry, love. It’s that last statement that tells me we’re not ready. I won’t let this be about my need. Let me cover you with kisses while you drift off. We’re right where we need to be right now.”

Anger flashes inside me and recedes just as quickly. This is Riven, the male I love. He wants to do this on a different timetable than me. Perhaps it’s out of misplaced honor or something written in one of the ancient tomes that prescribes that things happen in a certain way.

Whatever the reason, I’ll follow his lead.

“I love you, Riven.”

“You’re my light, Chelsea. Let me kiss you to sleep.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chelsea

Riven’s wing curves around me as we study the holographic display Dante’s rigged in the great hall. His touch grounds me, each small contact sending sparks of energy through his slowly dimming wings. After last night, he’s stronger, but we both know it’s temporary. Like putting a bandage on a wound that needs stitches.

“Most of the files are corrupted. Dr. Andrews might have been interrupted in the middle of a download,” Dante explains, claws clicking against his tablet. “But what’s readable is… disturbing.” A 3D blueprint materializes—some kind of medical facility retrofitted inside an old industrial complex.

“This appears to be every inch of their temporary setup,” Volt rumbles, electricity crackling between his feathers. “Until the main facility at Starfire Peak is operational.”

Cypher’s feline tail lashes. “It’s all the information we need to retrieve her.” He glances away, then mumbles, “That is… if she’s still alive.”

“She is.” My hand finds Riven’s as images from the drive flash past—high-tech medical equipment, containment specs, and things that look disturbingly like operating tables—with shackles.

“They were treating her body carefully,” Volt adds. He should know; he was in the air and had the best view. “I don’t believe she’s dead. They must need her.”

“For this.” Dante pulls up a partial document. “Project Chrysalis. This confirms they’re not just studying cryptids—they’re trying to extract and transfer abilities.”

---