The air fled my lungs.

My heart was lodged in my throat.

"Finn," I whispered.

"Mmm?" He didn't look at me; his gaze was fixed between my legs.

I should have stopped him. I should have done something, because I wasn't so drunk that I'd forgotten what a bad idea this might be. But I stayed completely still as Finn eased my shorts down my thighs, my knees, my ankles, and then they were gone, and I was sitting on Finn's sofa, wearing only one of his oversized T-shirts and my panties.

Finn trailed his hands up my legs, his fingertips just skimming my skin, and absolute need shuddered through me.

"We shouldn't do this," I said.

His response was to grip my hips and pull me forward, so I was lying my back. My knees automatically fell further open.

"Are you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this?" Finn asked.

"I . . ."

He reached between my legs and brushed his knuckles against my panties. It was barely a touch, but it still made my hips jerk.

"Do you even realise how wet you are, Tasha?" Finn's voice had gone husky and low.

I couldn't find words.

Finn brushed me with his knuckles again, a soft stroke against my core. "Fucking soaking," he said.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't fucking breathe.

Finn's palms glided over my thighs and up to my hips. His fingers gripped my panties and gently tugged, and I found myself lifting my hips, helping him.

We shouldn't do this.

We really shouldn't fucking do this.

I'd rather die than stop.

Finn tossed my panties aside, and I was hit with a sudden jolt of shyness. Lying on my back I was spread out for him, vulnerable and exposed, but even as I started to close my legs, Finn put his hands on my inner thighs, holding them open.

"Don't," he said softly.

I swallowed.

Finn leaned in and gently exhaled, his breath tickling my thighs. I tensed in desperate anticipation, still not quite believing that this was happening.

He murmured something, and I thought I heard the word 'beautiful' then I felt the warm wetness of his tongue on my sex, and all thought fled my head. Finn licked me gently, but then there was the hardness of his metal tongue stud, pressing against the most sensitive part of me, and electricity surged up my spin.

"Oh, fuck me," I gasped.

Finn chuckled, and the sensation of his warm breath between my legs made me shudder in the most delicious way.

"Well, that's a good start," he said.

He slid his hands under my hips, and abruptly yanked me further forward, so my legs were on his shoulders, then he fucking devoured me.

His tongue lashed my sex, long, slow drags alternating with shallow, teasing licks, driving deep into my liquid centre, then sliding up to the aching knot of my clit. My head pressed into the back of the sofa, my breath coming in gasping pants, my hips rolling against Finn's face. My hands were tangled in something – his hair, I realised.

Fuck.

His clever tongue, the hard pressure of that metal stud – I'd never felt anything like it, and it was almost too much. A storm was building beneath my skin.

"God, Finn," I groaned, clutching his head harder.

He drove his tongue deep, fucking me with his mouth, and I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. I let out a raw noise, and Finn responded with a rough growl. The absolute maleness of the sound, the strength of the hands holding my legs open, was almost as erotic as the relentless skill of his tongue.

I was on fire.

My thighs were shaking, and my desperate groans had become hoarse screams, and I was on the brink of something bigger than anything I'd ever felt before.

"Finn . . . please . . ."

I couldn't take it.

He had to stop.

I'd kill him if he stopped.

Finn's lips closed around my clit and sucked hard, his tongue stud lashing those desperately sensitive nerve endings, and Jesus fuck, no one had ever done it like this before, and that storm was building higher, and I couldn't possibly contain this feeling, it was too big for my skin.

My back bowed, my head pushing into the cushions, as raw bliss ripped through me, wringing ragged screams from my throat. My eyes squeezed shut, my whole body was rigid and shaking, and Finn was still licking me, and I couldn't stop coming, and it was almost fucking painful in its intensity, but I never wanted it to stop.

I was shattered into pieces.

The world had disappeared.

My legs slipped from Finn's shoulders. I was boneless, broken, panting. Finn propped himself on his elbows, wiped his mouth on my inner thigh, and grinned. I'd never seen a man look so damned pleased with himself.

"So," he said smugly. "Still think you don't like oral sex?"

"Uhhhhh." I couldn't manage actual words. My whole body was still tingling, electric sparks dancing in my veins. I felt swollen and satiated and fucking alive.

"That's what I like to hear." Finn gave my butt a playful smack.

I struggled to sit up, and my sex was so sensitive that even that small motion made me shiver. My thighs were slick and damp.

Finn still knelt in front of me, in the vee of my open legs, still wearing that smug grin. His hair was a wild mess and his eyes glittered.

I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to taste myself on his lips.

But as I dragged myself up, Finn rocked back on his heels, and I had the weird sense of a barrier going up between us.

"That was . . . fuck . . ." I still couldn't find words.

"Good?" Finn supplied.

"A lot more than good."

Finn nodded, but his eyes had moved past me. I was starting to feel awkward. I closed my legs and Finn straightened, his expression pensive. He handed me my shorts. I pulled them on.

"What was that?" I asked.

"That was me proving a point."

I shook my head. "We've been honest with each other all evening; don't change that now."

Finn retrieved his shirt and pulled it over his head, rumpling his hair even more. "What do you want me to say?"

"What did that mean just now?"

"Nothing."

That stung.

I climbed off the sofa, trying to ignore the slickness between my legs, and crossed my arms. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You instigated this, not me, so why are you being weird about it now?" I demanded.

"I'm not being weird. I just don't want you to get the wrong idea," Finn said, avoiding my eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Finn grabbed his glass and drained what was left of his cocktail. "I'm not looking for a relationship, Tasha."

"I never asked you for one. But clearly we both want each other, even if it is just sex." I raised an eyebrow. "Or are you going to pretend I'm not your type again?"

Finn finally met my eyes. "You want the truth?"

"Yes."

"Ever since the moment I met you, I've fantasied about your pretty lips stretching around my cock. I've jerked off so many times thinking about you, imagining what you look like naked, how it would feel to fuck you until you're screaming my name, how it would feel when you come on my tongue," Finn said.

"You know what one of those feels like now," I pointed out.

His lips twitched.

"And you can easily find out the rest. It's not like I'm saying no," I went on.

Finn's mouth flattened. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" If he could give me an orgasm like that with his tongue, what the hell could he do with his cock? I was desperate to find out.

"Because it'll complicate things."

I couldn't help a laugh. "Finn, you've just had your tongue in my pussy. If that didn't complicate things, do you really think your cock will?"

He didn't answer.

Silence fell on the room, and it was only now that I noticed the fire was dying out. Finn spotted it at the same time. He crossed to the stove, opened the door and stirred the embers with the poker, before tossing in a few small logs.

How had we suddenly got here?

My sex still tingled with the memory of Finn's lips and tongue, and my throat still ached, and I couldn't understand how we'd gone from Finn fucking me with his mouth on the sofa to Finn not even wanting to look at me.

"You're not being fair," I said quietly.

Finn closed the stove door and turned to me. His face was guarded but not completely closed off.

"You wanted to do this, so we did it, and you don't get to call it a mistake now," I said.

"I never called it a mistake."

"You didn't need to. Don't treat me like an idiot, Finn. Yes, that was the best sex I've ever had, and yes, I really want to do it again, and lots of other things too, but I'm not going to beg you for it, and I'm not going to misinterpret this as anything more than sex. You don't want a relationship? Fine. I'm not offering one. I'm very capable of no-strings fun, but if that's too much for you, then go back to jerking off in your bedroom."

Finn looked like he was fighting back a smile, but his eyes were still distant.

With dignity, I picked up my panties. "Well, thanks for the cocktails and the orgasm, but I guess we're done for tonight."

Finn didn't say anything as I walked out of the living room. I'd thought I'd feel disappointed by his reaction, and maybe part of me was, but another part still felt bursting with energy and possibility.

I really wasn't naïve enough to imagine commitment where none had been offered, but there was serious physical chemistry between me and Finn, and that wasn't going away any time soon. We'd skirted around it for weeks, and tonight we'd finally cracked, but that couldn't be the only time. Finn was kidding himself if he thought it was.

In my bathroom, I examined my face in the mirror. My skin was still flushed and my eyes shone. My bottom lip was red and swollen where I must have been biting it without realising, and my hair was a tangled mess.

I looked like I'd been blissfully, magnificently fucked.

Tonight wasn't the right time to push the issue, but tomorrow I'd see how far Finn's resolve went.

Whatever had started on that sofa, it was only just beginning.