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A shiver racks my body and when he reaches the split between my legs, I hiss out a breath of relief.

His tongue flicks out, tasting me, and my body jolts forward from the sensation, forcing me to clamp my hand on his shoulder just to stay upright.

He finds my clit and presses his mouth to me, tongue teasing at my neediness.

This is reckless and fast and probably unwise, but I’m tired of caution.

The Tinman was right: I want to be free.

Hand buried in his hair, I push him down and he sinks to his knees, his face between my legs.

He gives no reprieve, his tongue lapping me up, swirling around my clit.

My hand is a claw in his hair now, guiding him over me, the pressure building at my center.

I could come like this. I’m going to come like this. Danger lurking outside our door, while danger buries his face between my thighs.

“Oh. Fuck.” I heave out a breath one second before I’m crashing through the orgasm. It soars through me so suddenly, so violently, my knees nearly buckle and the Tinman curls his arm around my legs, holding me upright as I jerk against him.

He keeps his mouth on me, tasting me through the waves of pleasure, one after the other.

Euphoria pours through me like honey.

I stagger away to the couch and drop onto it breathing heavily.

The Tinman rises to his feet and drags the back of his hand over his wet chin.

His hair is tousled, his gaze wild.

“We are not done,” he says and the hunger on his face is enough to unmoor me from whatever dock I thought I was lashed to.

Yes, I think. Let me drift into the dark waves.

I climb to my feet, come to stand in front of him and help liberate him of his pants. His cock bobs thick and hard.

A beat passes between us, straining with the tension of a band stretched too far.

We are destined to break.

He hooks his arm beneath my ass and hoists me up and I wind myself around him, arms and thighs and hunger and desire.

The heat and hardness of him comes to my opening, slick and ready for him.

We stand in the middle of the room, no wall, no furniture to brace us and yet …

I sink down the length of him and he gnashes his teeth, his fingers dimpling the flesh of my ass.

I reach the end of him and he holds me there with the strength of just one arm, throbbing against my insides.

I kiss him, our tongues sliding over one another as he walks us back to the couch, then turns us, sitting with me still straddling him.

“You are dripping wet,” he says against my mouth.

“Are you complaining?”

“No. I am praising you.”

“Praise me more.”