Try Me (Seven Tech Tower Book 1)

by Amanda Richensexi

  “This...is this...how does this work?” She gestured widely with the thumb drive. “Do I move in, then go to a hotel when you’re done with the sex coaching? Or do the women usually keep their apartments while they’re staying with you? Do they have another job lined up? Or what?”

  He laid his chopsticks on his plate and folded his hands together under his chin. “I think you’ll like spankings.”

  Was that a non-sequitur? “I won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Do you like them?”

  He smirked. “I could learn to, if you’re gentle with me.”

  “Oh. Well. You didn’t answer my questions.”

  “I don’t see the point of answering your smartass questions.”

  “I’m not being facetious, Conn. I’m asking you how it’s supposed to work. If I’m going to consider your proposal, I’d like to have my i’s crossed and my t’s dotted...or...the other way around. You know.”

  “I have no idea how it’s supposed to work, Two Shoes. This is the first—“

  “I knew it!” The shriek came with a flurry of movement. Wendy’s plate was suddenly a warm, soggy pile of slop in her lap and Cheryl-the-unhinged-ex, as Wendy was starting to think of her, was poking Wendy in the chest. “He took you. He said he’d take me here, but he never did, and you were going up, and I knew you were headed here, you hideous man thieving bitch. What is that thing you’re wearing?”

  Wendy must have been in shock, because she answered automatically, “It’s a stylized, somewhat inaccurate button-down dress with a petticoat such as the Pilgrims might have worn. They didn’t really wear so much black but I liked the look with the buckle shoes and—hey!” Wendy raised her arm to block Cheryl’s raised hand, at which point the the other woman was snatched up by Conn and passed off to two uniformed men.

  It was over before Wendy quite realized what was happening. Literally thirty seconds after the wacko had appeared, she was gone. Half-in, half-out of her seat, Wendy stared after the retreating backs of the security men.

  “Okay,” she said. “That was weird. You have to admit that was weird.” She looked down at her lap and sighed.

  “Fuck.” Hearing the intense emotion in his voice, Wendy looked up in surprise. “This won’t happen again. It never happens.”

  “Oh, really?” she said, incredulous.

  “Really. My life is low-drama.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or it was. It takes a certain amount of effort to keep things on an even keel. And unfortunately, I’m being too obvious. To everyone but you, apparently.”

  “Uh-huh,“ she said, not really listening. “Listen, I have to clean up.”

  She returned from the bathroom much cleaner only because the restaurant had, for some mysterious reason, a selection of replacement clothes for the delectation of their patrons. The dress they’d supplied her with was linen, black, modest at the neckline, with a knee-length skirt, but unfortunately wrongly sized for her lower half. It was much too tight, so tight she could hardly walk.

  Conn was waiting for her. She half expected him to tell her they were leaving. Instead he walked behind her silently all the way back to their table. New dishes had been laid out for them, she noticed. As she went toward her seat, he stopped her, picked her up and sat her down on his lap.

  “I’m getting tired of this. How would you like being picked up and put places?”

  He murmured, “Be glad I’m not raising your skirt right now,” and kissed her. In full view of the wait staff and the other diners. A long, melting kiss that traveled from her tongue to her heart to her belly and lower, to lady parts she didn’t even know she had. She came up for air uncertain of the direction of gravity.

  “That...was a bad idea, dude.”

  He grinned and kissed her nose. “No, that was a good idea. Taking her to bed, that was a bad idea. Not staying with you last week...bad idea. Letting my sister talk me out of pounding on your door...bad, very bad idea. I’m lost, Wendy LaBruce. Don’t let me go home without you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Conn? Mr. Milidonis? I’m Joe Planter with The Seattle Instant.” A skinny arm extended between them, prompting Wendy to stumble off Conn’s lap with a gasp. She stared up at a college-age man with ruffled hair and a nose tattoo. “Sorry to intrude, but I saw what happened. Do you have a minute?”

  “Not for personal questions,” Conn said crisply. “Talk to my P.A.” He signaled to the waiter. Again.

  “Oh, come on, our readers would love to know what you’re in town for, if there’s any corporate espionage afoot, who your client is…barring non-disclosures, naturally...and of course who this beautiful lady is.” Wendy’s eyes bugged out at his admiring look. “Hi,” he said, and then gave her a double-take. “Hi. Hey, you’re pretty cute. Are you, like, the virgin I heard about? Because I’ve always—”

  “Get the fuck away from my fiancée,” Conn snarled.

  CHAPTER 10

  Conn

  WENDY WAS BENT. HE sympathized. He did.

  She’d been stiff ever since he threatened the reporter twerp with bodily harm and had the restaurant staff transfer them to a private room. Unfortunately it was too little, too late. She’d refused to converse with him. Not even a single comment about two-party elevator systems or the health hazards of dinner spilled from her rosebud lips. Nor did she respond when he told her how beautiful her hair was.

  Fuck, that hair...loose, it was a tumble of impudent waves. He wanted to wrap them around his dick and pull.

  He’d waxed goddamn eloquent about her eyes and her mouth.

  Nothing.

  Her defenses were up. She apparently thought he was a womanizer, and in counterargument, he had nothing. He didn’t cheat, but he did tend to bounce from woman to woman. But hell, the idea of thinking of any other woman at this point was laughable…

  Wendy was all he could see now.

  He appreciated breasts, for example. About a year ago, Almatto had contacted him to help out with a birthday gift for his wife. It involved a remote feed, Charli’s tits, and some rather inventive games. She’d had a great birthday, and Conn had felt compelled to choose his next lady friend by cup size.

  But Wendy...appreciation didn’t cover it. What he’d felt when he’d showered her, all sleepy and satisfied and trusting…that wasn’t fun. That wasn’t light entertainment.

  Naked, Wendy LaBruce was a creature of breath-defying lushness. She had the softest belly and high, sensitive nipples over a waist and hips that were the mold from which sirens were made. He’d found himself licking his lips at odd moments, aching with the memory of what he hadn’t done.

  Suck her breasts.

  Fuck her cunt.

  Lick her to climax.

  Don’t even get him started on the things he wanted to do to that ass...

  He’d relived those wild orgasms of hers, those funny quirks of hers, at odd moments in the days—and nights—that followed. That alone was a wake-up call. She was no Cheryl. No Iris or Lacey or Mariana. She was like nobody he had ever met.

  His parents were going to explode when they found out about her. Sure, that made her more attractive to him, knowing they would heartily disapprove, but he didn’t need her in his arsenal of rebellion. He had sufficient financial and social weapons against the Milidonises to keep control of his life. And sure, her virginity was titillating, but not as a mere novelty.

  It was just...her.

  He liked everything about her. It was all titillating. Her deadpan way of talking made him cherish every gasp and squeal of pleasure he extracted. Even her stubbornness made him want to tease and torment her until she gave in.

  He’d never met a woman with this effect on him.

  He didn’t see this ending.

  If she decided he was a bad proposition, he was fucked.

  “Talk to me.” He gathered her into his lap. They were sitting on her couch and he'd been fighting temptation. That delectable ass, squeezed so outrageously into the conser
vative dress the maitre d’ had provided earlier, sank right in. Tempting him to offer his lap as a second home.

  Sitting on him, however, didn’t stop her from saying caustically, “Who? Talk to who? Would that be my fiance? Huh?”

  “You heard that.” He plucked a kiss from that perfect mouth. He’d kissed it at least a dozen times since exiting Seven Tech Tower. That was probably the only reason he’d managed to get her to agree to go home with him in the same vehicle. And let him into her apartment.

  “FYI, Conn, the entire readership of The Seattle Instant has probably heard it by now, and soon the world will, But you had to know that when you said it, right?”

  “Of course.” He slid his lips along her jaw to bite it.

  “Then why?”

  “Why did I lie?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have no idea. As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, you’re a first for me. You might say I’m a Wendy LaBruce virgin. I’ve never had one before. You know, you not only smell lemony, you taste lemony.”

  “Um, you don’t exactly have me.” When he ignored her verbal challenge and chose instead to suck on her adorable upper lip, she said, “You...you taste...like kohlrabi.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re crisp and you look like you have a radishy bite, but really you’re very mellow and it’s hard to stop eating you.”

  That was when he admitted to himself he was in love. ‘Wendy...fuck...come here.”

  “I’m alrea—hey!”

  He had her skirt at her waist, and now he could smell her. He didn’t need her plump thighs clinging to his hard ones to figure out what she wanted. “No toy today?” he teased, and when she stiffened beautifully, he fingered aside her panties to find her wet and soft and pulsing.

  She said his name. Just that, in a panicky tone, as she thrust at him. Her lust was open and sweet. He could barely get a finger in her; she was that tight.

  “You want to come on my finger?”

  “I want...all right...yes…”

  She recited an endearingly pure litany of curses when she came. Her eyes fogged over with her pleasure. His cock throbbed with pain. He couldn’t remember going so long without fucking, not in his adult lifetime. He didn’t just want to fuck her. He wanted it raw. Wet. He was a devoted consumer of condoms, but for the first time in his life, he was tempted.

  To ravish a virgin.

  To fill said virgin with himself, nothing less than himself, all of himself.

  “How committed are you to virginity?” he murmured.

  “This is a bad time to ask me.” She slumped against him, her long-fingered hands digging into his pecs, causing him exquisite agony on so many levels.

  “Fly home with me.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “That again?”

  “Two Shoes, you’re killing me.” He brought her hand to his crotch. She hissed in surprise. Conn’s brain disengaged. He stood up with her in his arms and a minute later was looking down at her spread out on her narrow bed, the plush floral comforter around her taunting him with her innocence.

  She stared back at him warily.

  “Do you have egg rolls?” he demanded.

  Her mouth fell open. “What?”

  “Egg rolls. I have a sudden craving for egg rolls. Make me some egg rolls, virgin.”

  She didn’t move, other than stretching seductively. Goddamn, she was lovely. “You just ate a ton of sushi.”

  “I ran sixteen miles this morning. Don’t be so harsh.”

  “I thought you were going to...I thought we were…”

  He let his eyes caress her the way he couldn’t. “My dick wants nothing more than to ram up inside you, my sweet. It doesn’t give a fuck that you’re a newbie as tight as a straw. If I join you on that bed, I am guaranteed to defile you. And I don’t want that, not that way. I told you, Two Shoes, what I want is to take you home with me.”

  Her eyes had grown wider and wider. Now she scowled. “All right! You win. Look, here, just take my virginity! Take it. It’s yours. You can have it.” She contorted her arms and began wiggling out of the borrowed dress.

  “I don’t want it,” he said on a growl.

  “Yes you do, all men do, deep down. Don’t lie.” It took her a few tries to kick off her buckle shoes.

  “My love, keep your virginity. I’ll do other things to you. At my home.”

  “Really, I mean it. Go on, just get it over with.’’

  “And the point of this, sweetheart?”

  Tears sprang into her eyes. “Once I’m no longer a virgin, you’ll go away.”

  “You want me to go away?”

  “No! But it’s inevitable, and I want it to happen before I become a blubbering mess. I hate it when people make fools of themselves just because some guy doesn’t want them anymore.”

  “Ah.” He felt wise suddenly. There was no convincing her with words. “I see. Well...fuck your virginity, then.”

  “Exactly. So just...let’s just move on this. Get the project done.”

  She was going to end him, truly.

  He began shedding his clothes. She stilled, watching him as his jacket came off, then his shirt and pants. Her admiration of his body was transparent. He was no stranger to feminine awe, and of course it was always inflaming, but it didn’t usually make his stomach clench with tenderness.

  “Why are you being so stubborn?” He sprawled out beside her. She still wore her bra, a cotton polka-dotted number that was entirely ineffective at hiding her stiffened nipples, and plain white undies like she'd been wearing the other night.

  “It’s stubborn that I refuse to drop everything for a man I have spent less than ten hours with total?” she challenged.

  “Yes. You can feel what’s between us as well as I can.”

  “Is that one of your more popular lines?”

  “Wendy…” He had to laugh. “I have never asked a woman to live with me. I have never even remotely been tempted to. I know more about you than you have any idea of. Take off your underwear.”

  “Huh?”

  “Show me what you’re offering.”

  Her breathing picked up. She licked her lips. But she did it. So clumsily he had to force himself not to tease her.

  Soon she was as naked as he, jamming her eyes shut. But after some facial contortions evidencing an inner struggle, she blinked them open and fixed fiercely on his face.

  So it was going to be that way, was it?

  He bent a leg over her knees, but still she didn’t look down.

  “Open your legs. Let me see that virginal pussy.”

  She made a strangled sound. And did it, the darling.

  “Tsk, tsk, I still can’t see. Hold yourself wide open, Two Shoes. With your fingers.”

  “Wait, this is not what…”

  “What’s the matter? Too shy to help with your own deflowering? That’s a pity, and I was all set to…” He made as if to rise, and she huffed and then took her hands and delicately opened her vulva for him. His response to the sight of all those pink, puffy folds being exposed to him so bravely told him he wasn’t going to last.

  “Touch where you want me to go.”

  “Geez Louise!”

  “I’m waiting…”

  Swiftly she brushed her slit.

  “Now take your left hand and wrap it around my cock.” He shifted closer.

  “Oh, god.” Her arm slithered down his front. Long fingers explored his ribcage and abdomen, crept toward his center, then tentatively surrounded him.

  “Scary,” he mocked.

  She squeezed viciously in a hilarious attempt at punishment for his mockery. He groaned. She released him with remorse in her eyes.

  “Now look what happened!” she cried.

  “It’s fine. That was pleasure, not pain.” He brought her hand back.

  “Why are you always harassing me?” she muttered. “I am new at this, you know.” She clutched him now like he was some kind of stress ball.
/>   “Because it’s endlessly fun. Do you want me to stop harassing you, Two shoes?”

  She mumbled something.

  “What’s that?”

  “No. It’s okay. Harass away.”

  “Now squeeze me again, a little harder. Ah, shit…shit.”

  “This really doesn’t hurt?”

  “No, but it will destroy me…” He lifted her thigh for better access so he could play his thumb against her clit. It was perky, stiff and hungry for attention. Rapidly he vibrated it, gazing down fondly into her eyes. “In about thirty seconds, I’m going to put a condom on. Then I’m going to fuck you. You have one job...to be a sweet, soft, orgasmic pussy for me when I come inside you. I’m...not small, and it will hurt.”

  “I think—you exaggerate—”

  “I do not. The moment my dick touches your pretty cunt I’m going to lose it, Wen. Now come.” He frisked her expertly, letting his fingers press her G-spot through the base of her pubis. Her expression of shock was classic.

  He sprang off her to get ready at record speed. Her wail at being left abandoned while in the grips of her climax tore at him. He practically slammed down over her, prying her legs apart, sweeping his eyes down her body, soaking it up. “Come again,” he ordered.

  “What? How—“

  He reached down and pinched her clit. Her eyes widened.

  It was unbelievable, how badly his body was shaking. His cock was inches away from its goal. ..

  He never gave a hand job so fast in his life. But this was vital to his existence. He urged the excited girl on with the filthiest words he could think of, and that and a few maneuvers that were guaranteed to give him a repetitive stress injury did the trick. Wendy arched.

  And he plunged into her.

  He did try not to. He tried to be patient, slow, gentle. He tried to remember that his cock wasn’t designed to spear a virgin this way. Shades of past encounters—ooh, careful—ooh, wait, ooh— ooh, oooh, oooooooh—echoed in his memory. For the first time in his life, he sincerely wished he had a pencil dick instead of…

  “Aaaaaaaaahhhh!” Wendy screamed.

  “Fucking goddamn!” He stiffened.

  The messed-up part was how exquisite it felt. Wendy’s cunt was slick, rippling...perfect. It was pure hell. The tightness...her whimpering noises...the knowledge that she was giving herself to him...they only accelerated his guilt.