Moth to Her Flame (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

34. Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

C helsea

I strip off my clothes, the urgency of the situation leaving no room for modesty. The cool air prickles my skin, but all I can focus on is Riven—his shallow breaths, his pale complexion, his wings barely flickering with life. I climb onto the bed, straddling him, and lean down to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, willing him to wake up, to come back to me.

My fingers tremble as I unbutton his jeans, pulling them down his legs, revealing the magnificent creature underneath. His body is a landscape of muscle and sinew, sculpted by nature into a powerful and graceful form. I run my hands over his chest, feeling the soft fur that covers his shoulders, tracing the lines of his abs, the curves of his hips.

Gently taking his length in my hand, I focus on his warmth and the softness of his skin. But he’s not fully aroused, his body too weak to respond to my touch. I lean down, taking him into my mouth, hoping that the warmth, the wetness, the sensation will bring him back. This isn’t about desire; it’s about survival. His survival. Our survival.

I feel him stir slightly, a soft moan escaping his lips. His hand weakly touches my hair, as if trying to push me away. “Chelsea… don’t…” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

I ignore his feeble protest, focusing on my task. I feel his length grow harder in my mouth, his body responding even as his mind struggles to catch up. His breathing deepens, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. His wings begin to flicker with a soft golden light.

Suddenly, his hands grip my shoulders as he tries to pull me away.

“Chelsea, stop,” he says, his voice stronger now.

“We’re doing this, you stubborn idiot.”

Before I can take him in my mouth again, he flips me onto my back, his eyes glowing with a renewed intensity.

“I want to taste you,” he growls, his voice filled with primal hunger.

He moves down my body, his hands tracing the curves of my hips, my thighs. The nectar probe in his mouth unfurls, the thin, dexterous appendage exploring my skin with an enthusiasm that belies its apparent delicacy. It tickles slightly, sending shivers of anticipation through me as it trails downwards, seeking my most intimate places.

His antennae perk up, their tiny feathers quivering as if picking up the subtlest signals from my body. He pauses, taking a moment to inhale my scent deeply, a low rumble resonating from his chest. “You smell incredible,” he murmurs, his voice husked with desire.

I feel a soft, teasing touch at the juncture of my thighs, his probe tentatively exploring, learning. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, a delicate, precise caress that sends waves of pleasure coursing through me.

His little appendage slides along my slick folds. After I inform my body that his tentative touch isn’t meant to tickle, all of my pleasure receptors seem to turn on at once. When I grip his furred shoulders, he takes it as the not-so-subtle hint it is… and goes to town.

His wings spark with a brighter amber radiance, casting a soft, ethereal light over our bodies. His gaze locks onto mine, watching every reaction, every twitch of pleasure that crosses my face. He’s learning, adapting, feeling his way through this new experience with an intensity that’s both touching and intensely erotic.

“Riven…” I moan, my hands gripping his furred shoulders. “That feels… don’t stop.”

Encouraged, he increases the pressure, his probe teasing, licking, and plucking.

“Dear God!” I shout on that last maneuver, only to be ratcheted even a step higher when the small appendage flicks so swiftly on my sweet spot that my eyes roll back in my head.

He stops for a moment. I assume it’s so I can have time to return to my senses—then the dexterous little organ slips inside me on a mission to explore.

My squeal of pleasure is a not-so-subtle indication that he found my g-spot. He’s a damn quick study because he’s flicking it mercilessly, driving me even higher.

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, the pressure, 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.”