Shaken by Heather Long Page A

feeling sweeping over her. Pushing the hair away from her face, she dipped closer for a taste. Salty and sweet swirled over her tongue. The rich masculine scent of him clung to her nostrils as she ran her tongue from the tip to the base. A low groan stirred his body, and she felt, more than saw, his hips flex.
    His cock lengthened under her touch into the long, throbbing member that gave her such enormous pleasure. She continued to lick her way to his sac and teased it with nibbling kisses before gliding upward to pull him into her mouth.
    Wild heat tingled in her blood and skittered over her skin. Inch by delicious inch, she worked her mouth over him, gripping the base. He was too huge to take all the way, but it didn’t stop her from licking and sucking in a generous pulsing motion. She squeezed lightly while she bobbed along his length.
    One moment he shifted restlessly, and the next he went rigid, thrusting his hands into her hair. Every pull drew his orgasm closer; she felt it in the way his veins began to pop out on his cock and the increasing stiffness.
    With effort, she managed to take him deeper. The head collided with the back of her throat, and she swallowed to refrain from gagging. His back bowed, and she increased her pace but maintained the same intensity, desperate to feel him come. She wanted to taste him, suck him clean, and, when his body shook, she braced for the hot seed shooting into her mouth.
    It was so much saltier than she expected, but also sweeter, and it tasted like his scent, so exclusively Tony. She swallowed, licked, and sucked until he shuddered into stillness. Lifting her head, she found his eyes, dark with desire and pleasure, staring at her.
    His fingers in her hair gentled, brushing her cheek, and he levered to a sitting position. The vague tremble in his hands and arms sent a wave of delight through her. He turned her into mush, and she loved that she did the same to him. Gathering her in his arms, he dragged her close and gave her a fierce squeeze.
    “I needed to do that,” she murmured, rubbing her nose lightly against his hard muscle and nuzzling kisses to his flesh.
    “Thank you.” The words shook with emotion. “I promise to return the favor very shortly.”
    Arousal speared through her. Two days earlier, she could only fantasize about the sexy bartender, his heartbreaking smile and gorgeous eyes. None of those compared to the reality.
     
    Four p.m. Sunday
    “Sixty-three thousand, three hundred and sixty inches.” Zip chewed her lip. “Four letters….”
    “Mile.” Tony carried in two plates sporting sections of lasagna, toast, and fried eggs. The weirdest breakfast she’d ever contemplated at four in the afternoon, but it smelled delicious.
    “I love that you love the Sunday crossword, too.” They’d slept and made love all afternoon until Tony picked her up and carried her into her tiny shower. Then they’d soaped and played in the four-foot space, constantly rubbing each other. Finally dressed—she in an oversized T-shirt and thick, fuzzy socks, while he’d dragged on his pants—they’d retreated from the bedroom to refuel.
    He set the plates on the coffee table and plucked her feet out of the chair then sat and tucked them in his lap. It was cozy, and a little bit sexy for all its domesticity.
    “Two down, starts with an I , five letters. Hang one’s head, e.g. ” She studied the phrase.
    “Open up,” he ordered, holding a forkful of lasagna out, and she sat forward to accept the bite. She could so get used to this.
    “Idiom,” she said.
    “No, I just love your mouth.” He grinned, and she laughed.
    “No, the word, not you. I think you’re fantastic.”
    He waggled his eyebrows and cut a section of the food. “Three down is lapse.”
    “Five letters starts with an L and means memory gap. So, how can we have a lapse in judgment?”
    “Maybe a lapse in judgment is a willing memory gap where your judgment used to be.”
    Zip snorted. She divided her