Page 24 of Marrying My Moth Lady

“That’s why I picked out a princess cut diamond,” he says, pushing my feet to the side. He pours himself out of the truck, onto the dusty ground and balances on one knee. It takes a few tries for him to open the little black box, but I can see the giant diamond from where I sit. The square-shaped stone sits in a bezel of emeralds. “It’s two carats because I didn’t want you to think I’m a cheapskate.”

Is it his dimples or the goofy thought that brings a giggle from my lips?

“Millie May Moth, will you do me the honor of becoming Ms. Millie May Mills? I promise, as Mills Mills or Mills Squared, I will protect and provide for you as long as we both shall live. Will you be my square?”

I don’t know what’s funnier—that he selected a square diamond by simplifying my name using algebra or that I would marry for protection and a provider. What is this the Stone Age? Me husband, kill T-Rex for little wifey, home in cave.

Bless his heart.

“If you protect and provide for your square, what do you want in return?” I ask with my heart in my throat.

“Happiness,” he whispers. “I get the better end of the deal as long as you are happy.”

Maybe there’s love hidden between his words after all.

“Yes, I accept,” I say, with tears streaming down my face. My heart fills with hope and wishes. Maybe we will grow into a loving marriage, or maybe our union at the altar will be the last time we’re face to face. He’s proven he can find me—much easier than I can visit him in his world.

As he lifts me from the truck and swings me around, I laugh against his lips. Our giggles dissolve into a smoldering kiss, his hands branding my body with each caress. My fiancé may not have the eloquent words to express his feelings, but he has the moves. I hope my heart isn’t trampled in the translation.

Chapter 12

Millie May

“Would you spend the night in my nest?” I ask, running my hand over his chest…my fiancé’s chest. Oh, swoon! I don’t care about the circumstances of his proposal or his motivation for marrying me. Tonight, I have a rock on my finger and a man looking at me with pupils blown with lust…my fiancé. I won’t have time to tire of calling him my fiancé when our nuptial is next week. Hopefully, Amber and her army of minions have magic wands to make my fairytale wedding come to life.

“I’d love to,” he whispers. The husky quality of his voice curls my toes in my booties.

I embrace him around the waist and take flight. We circle the treehouse to pick up speed. I’d hate to bash his legs against the lip of the nest by gliding through the opening too slowly. He will need his thigh muscles for what I have planned for tonight. I’m not confident our marriage isn’t a piece of paper, and he will disappear once the electronic file is sent to the courthouse, so I’m taking advantage of his presence in my bed tonight.

With a twist of my shoulders, we tilt horizontally and slide into place against the pillows on the east side of the nest. Laying on my side, I gaze into my lover’s eyes…and see myreflection in his glasses. Can I take those off so I’m not watching myself? Wait, he won’t be able to see me…or will he? Do people have sex in their glasses? Nerves threaten to dry up my libido and end our engagement party before it starts.

Oh, my stars! How do you coax a man out of his clothes?

“Stop me if I go too far,” he whispers, cupping my jaw with both hands. He tilts my head to the angle he needs to steal the air from my lungs with his searing kiss. His tongue dances with mine in a tango of rubbing, circling, and tiny flicks. We fit as if made for one another. In this moment, he can’t deny how natural his presence against me in our nest feels—like I built it to share with him before knowing he existed.

I swing my leg over his calf. He grabs the back of my knee and wraps my leg around his hip, cradling himself between my thighs. The difference between our physiques is as clear as the diamond I wear. His long, lean muscles press into my generous curves. My confidence short-circuits.

“Sculpted like a goddess,” he says with a groan. He rolls his hips, presenting the hard ridge in his trousers to my most sensitive parts. “Feel what you do to me. Constant torment. I want to do filthy things to you but must respect you for the lady you are.”

I don’t want to be a lady right now, but I have no dirty talk to answer him. Every sensation is new and exciting. Our kisses turn sloppy as the hunger builds. I love the squelching of wet lips combined with the rasp of our clothes. He reaches between us and slides my panties to the side to caress tiny circles over my clit, building pressure in my low belly.

Holy Toledo, this is so much better than toy play!

If this is as far as we go, I’ll—delete that thought. His thumb presses firmly against me—lighting up every nerveending like a Christmas tree. He pushes on my lower back, so my hips roll in countermotion to his…and create a connection that crosses my eyes.

Little Millie May is losing her virginity, by hook or by crook.

My fingers shake as I slip the single button of his blazer from its hole. I run my hands over the hard planes of his chest and shoulders before helping him shrug out of it. His vest follows. The man doesn’t have a spare ounce of body fat. His slim build hides his strength. From the smallest butterfly to the tallest tree, he’s their champion…and mine…and our future children. Oh, my ovaries are singing opera! They motivate my clumsy fingers to unbutton his dress shirt. When I try to push the cotton over his shoulders, it catches.

I forgot the shirt buttons on the part tucked into his pants. The next step is opening his fly. Do I dare? He patiently kisses my lips, cheeks, and neck with steady hands on my jaw. I’m in control…great. The bumbling virgin is in the driver’s seat. Obviously, I have to remove his pants to make love to him—the only item on tonight’s agenda—but how do I get there without squashing the romance? Movies and books go from heavy kissing to naked play in a sentence or two. I need practical instructions!

“I want the next step, but I don’t know what to do,” I say in a small voice laced with panic.

“I didn’t want to scare or guilt you into your first time. If you are sure this is what you want, I’ll take the lead. I can take care of you…but you must tell me if you don’t like something.”

“I like everything,” I blurt out.Smooth, beauty, smooth.

I’m too eager, but he’s Horus, my future husband. He wants me, too. His response is a dimpled smile. He gives my butta gentle squeeze. “It may hurt the first time you’re penetrated. I want you to be ready—”

---