“I don’t grind my rear end on people.”
“You should try it, it’s nice.”
“I’m sure.”
“Ms. LaBruce, let me put it this way. If you don’t plant that big, brazen ass on my lap in the next minute, I’ll have no recourse but to be rude and leave...or give myself a quick hand job here where we’re sitting. You’re killing me here, Two Shoes.”
Shit. The inner curse shocked her. Her prudish parents had tried to train her out of even thinking in curses. Heaven help her. “I don’t let people kiss me until the third date.”
“Can do. No kissing it is.” He pulled back. “Far be it from me to go beyond your comfort zone.”
She rolled her eyes. Yet it was all a front. Far from feeling feisty, she was getting dizzy. Every word he spoke seemed a caress. And the infernal Clitesqua had switched things up. Now it was slow stroking her bud, almost a gentle massage, and it was effecting bursts of pleasure in all her secret places. She jumped at the feel of his fingertip on her lip.
“You’re trembling...funny Wendy...can I call you that? Or wacky...I like wacky, it suits you. Wacky Wendy...come here. Stop being a chicken shit.”
Well? Are you going to put your money where your mouth is? You’ve been waiting for this. Just because he hasn’t promised you a rose garden, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t share yours with him...
She gave up. She climbed onto his lap. It was awkward. He shifted to make them both more comfortable, turning her so she was facing away from him with her bottom cradled in the saddle of his crotch.
She would not move.
Grind, indeed.
He did smell good, though. Through the layers of clothing, she felt heat and hardness.
And now she was burning up—her face and everywhere else. All from sitting in a man’s lap.
In this man’s lap, she modified. Just the thought of sitting in her previous boyfriends’ laps was laughable.
Of course, she wouldn’t have let them stare at her bare naked parts, either.
“There’s a question that’s been nagging at me.”
It was difficult to understand Conn’s whisper with his warm breath doing that provocative tickling thing at her ear. “What?” she muttered.
“You say you’re a virgin.”
“Yeah.”
“Which means you haven’t…”
“Experienced penile penetration,” she confirmed immediately.
“Right. Well, then, what has been inside you, Little Miss No-Sex-Toys-For-Me?”
Did he just… “Huh?”
“I’m dying to know how far you’ve gone in your adventures to date. You’re not a baby, and you’ve clearly given this a lot of thought. If not dicks, then what? Dildos? Fingers? Tongues? What have you experimented with?”
Her inner smartass, the one who’d snap, How dare you, it’s none of your business, seemed to have left the building, for she just up and told him, “Not much. A guy once tried to put his finger there...but I didn’t like it. I don’t even like tampons.”
“I see.”
Suddenly she was maddened beyond reason. He was asking intimate questions. He’d looked at her intimately, touched her intimately. She’d already told him more than anyone. And now he was demanding even more intimate confessions. Somehow this invasion of her personal space was a lot more disturbing than his physical closeness.
“Why? You think there’s something wrong with me? Why do people always think there’s something wrong with virgins? Why do they assume I’m an uptight Victorian or whatever just because I’m not all, ooh, a porno, lemme at it! I’m not. I just don’t see the point in doing something I don’t want to do. Do you see me bungee jumping?”
“Touchy, touchy.” She felt something warm and moist tug at her earlobe and practically leapt a foot in the air. The echo of her own yelp bounced between them. “Relax. That wasn’t a kiss, just a little nip. You smell good. Lemony. The third date, hmm? Sure about that?”
Don’t squirm. “All right, fine, you can kiss me.”
She heard his quiet laugh. A large palm turned her jaw. His eyes went to her mouth. His head lowered and she shut her eyes, and then velvety soft lips were sliding against hers.
For a few minutes, all she felt was the brush of those teasing lips and the expert manipulations of the Clitesqua. With both Conn Milidonis and the toy doing their thing, Wendy sat there and evolved into a brainless puddle of goo.
He raised his head finally. “You’re so turned on.”
“Yeah, well, so?”
“What’s made you so snarky?”
Try this hollow, achy feeling. Not that she’d ever admit to sexual frustration. “Are we done here yet?”
“No. Have an orgasm yet?”
“Yeah, sure. Three and counting.”
He burst out laughing. The warm sound was surprising. She hadn’t expected this android to laugh like that. It was low, sexy music, going straight to her core. “Even when you’re being sarcastic, you make my cock fucking hard. I can’t figure out why it took so long for me to notice you.”
“You’re not alone in not noticing, trust me.”
“Now that’s hard to believe.” His fingers traced the collar of her dress. “How do I get this thing off you? I feel like I should be grateful you’re not wearing a bonnet too. Is this apron...ah, I see, it's attached.”
Even the light pressure of his touch made the crisp cotton fabric brush against her nipples. A new level of tension wound within her...and it was now that the device between her legs decided to launch into dabbing mode.
Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab-dab-dab. Dab. Dab. Dab.
It was an S.O.S., for crying out loud.
“Well?”
“There’s a drawstring in the back,” she said tightly. “But I don’t want it off.”
“Sure about that? You’re burning up here. I think you might be right, I think that little toy is extremely effective, as you say.”
Although Wendy was staring down at his hand, she wasn’t prepared to feel a fingertip rub across her nipple. The intensity of that one stroke was more than she could tolerate. She cried out.
“Shh.” She was gathered closer until she was leaning stiffly back, her head resting against his solid chest. “I won’t take it off you. I have to admit, this dress has character. It suits you. I’m impressed with your abilities, Two Shoes. I presume your interest in design goes way back.” While he spoke, his finger started circling her nipple.
Wendy opened her mouth but no words came out, just her own harsh breathing. She stared with blurred vision straight ahead, seeing nothing, her senses focused on too much data. That expert finger seemed to find her unerringly. Every flick-flick-flick over her nipple echoed what was going on down below. She tried to avoid the maddening touch, but couldn’t.
The band of his arm had come around her waist. It was holding her close. She was sure she could break away, but—oh, god, she was actually doing it, she was wiggling her butt against him. Each wanton shove drove her against his rigid length. She could feel it pressing behind her, long and surprisingly invasive.
And oh, Persephone loves Hades, her nipple. That one nipple. He was plucking it, fondling it through her bodice and bra.
As if the Clitesqua sensed she was getting close, it was now doing something furiously fast between her legs. She actually heard a gloppy sound. She must be ridiculously slippery down there.
He had to hear it, too.
And Conn...damn Conn. He was being so offhand about this whole thing. Acting like there was no ass-grinding. He was talking about the material, asking her the name of the weave, which flowers were in the print. While one of his hands stroked the soft curve of her belly and the other fingered her nipple.
It was a storm rushing her senses. Wendy tried to aim her thoughts somewhere. Anywhere. To focus. It was impossible.
Her body wound tighter and tighter.
Pleasure shivered up and down her spine.
“Wow, you’re sweet.”
And then her gasps were swallowed by his mouth. He was kissing her. Deeply. The thrust of his tongue did it; Wendy gurgled. She jerked. And then…
CHAPTER 6
Conn
CONN FELT THE WOMAN on his lap start to shake and whimper, and it jolted him so hard he nearly came in his slacks. That soft, lush ass of hers dug into his groin as if to test his strength of will. She was arching, pushing her breast into his hand and trying to take his cock into her body. Through their fucking clothes.
She had no idea what she did to him.
Her mouth tasted spicy. It tried to suck all of his tongue in. She was scrambling to turn, right in the middle of her climax. Slamming against him and practically humping his leg. He captured her face, kissing her, basically eating her, because she tasted good, because it obviously drove her wild. His hands fought not to go down and yank her skirt up. He wanted to. To thrust a finger inside that tight cunt that had never even been played with by a man.
He didn’t have a thing for virgins.
But the idea that Wendy LaBruce’s pussy was uncharted earth, that she had never known the delights of coming while filled…the idea of plunging two fingers inside her as the Clitesqua stimulated her...watching her eyes pop...he’d kill for that.
And then to watch her face when he rammed his cock into her...
Reluctantly he freed her mouth. Then captured it again. Then freed it and used his finger to trace the outline of her upper lip.
“Ah...ah…” Her post-orgasmic noises were incredibly sweet. She was hiccupping. Her eyes were black from pupil dilation and tears were leaking from the corners. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was also wincing with discomfort.
He couldn’t resist dropping more kisses on her eyes and nose. “What is that clit beater doing to you now? Has it let up, or is it going another round on you?”
“I...I…”
She was apparently at a loss for words. He felt pretty good about that. “I’m not going to fuck you,” he crooned, “but I want to lift up your skirt and check things out. Brace yourself.”
She didn’t, though. She was trembling and lax. Her wide eyes fixed on his and she protested not a whit as he crumpled the cloth in his fist and shoved it up her legs.
He glanced down. Her pretty knees were clutching him for dear life. Her panties were sopping wet, her inner thighs shiny with her arousal. He could see tiny twitches beneath the crotch.
“It’s still going, I see.” His insouciance was a lie. He was salivating. Her fragrance, the visual feast of her thighs...how he managed not to push her flat and start eating her out right then and there he didn’t know. His cock was raging, urging him to do more than eat her. But he didn’t want to alarm her. This was not a fuck he could take or leave.
He was going to have Wendy. It wasn’t his choice anymore. Only a “no” from her could stop him. Yes, he wanted to yank aside that little strip of fabric and plunge his dick inside. But pushing her too far would backfire; her track record told him that much.
He lifted her off his lap and laid her down carefully onto her back. Her body was still limp, malleable. She was shaking her head as if stunned. She’d probably never expected this to happen. He doubted she’d ever had an orgasm in the same room as a man before.
He wasn’t going to ask and give her more reason freak out.
With her skirt bunched up around her waist, he managed to tug down her panties and lift her legs to get them off her. He arranged her legs apart, one sliding off the cushion so he could fit between. With those plump thighs and her legs split, she looked...scrumptious. Delectably wanton.
“Not, not, not going to fuck you,” he said, mostly to himself. But then he was struck speechless.
The Clitesqua.
Jesus H. Christmas.
The thing was ingenious. It was a perky little contraption, prying Wendy’s sex lips unrelentingly apart. The main shell was clamping down on her clitoris, vacillating frenetically from side to side. Her vulva was flushed and swollen, exactly like it had been earlier when he’d been fitting the toy on her, framed by wispy curls. The whole arrangement was lewd, yet innocent at the same time.
The surge of lust that took him began to cross over into agony.
He cleared his throat. “Looks good. So, Wendy, I’m going to fuck you, but not with my dick. With this.” He held up a finger. “Any objection, tell me now.”
“Wait—uh—I thought you were going to take it off. The Clitesqua.”
“No need for that, Two Shoes. You’re all set for an orgasm marathon.” Teasing her was once again irresistible. “I’d say you could use one…..I suspect you’re one of those delightful women who have dozens bubbling inside them.”
Her mouth fell open. He couldn’t resist tracing her “O” lips again.
“Hey, I’m not a nympho. No way.”
“No, of course not. You’re just very, very, very horny. It’s completely different.”
She bit her lip. “I just...it’s just that I’ve thought about you...I’ve seen you and...I think about you...and I...ugh. Delete that. Never mind. Your ego must be the size of the galaxy already.”
Well, well, well. He was thrilled to have been right about her.
“Not at all,” he said flippantly. “I may have heard it before, but never so captivatingly. Am I a dirty fantasy for you, Wendy LaBruce? Does your pussy start fluttering when you see me? Maybe you should try wearing the Clitesqua at work...you know, kill two birds with one stone.”
The fiery glint in her eyes was adorable. “Forget it. You can take your oversized ego and sho—"
“Shh, I’m messing with you," he chuckled. "Frankly? I feel like an idiot for not seeing what was right under my nose. Here you are, hot, oozing arousal for me…” He let his finger trace firmly down her belly, over the sex toy, and all the way to her slit. He had to bite down a pained grunt. The soft flesh was liquid fire, and he could already tell she’d be tight as a vice. “All this time, I could have been enjoying your flavor of ice cream.”
“Says you.”
“You doubt it?”
She shrugged. “Well, for one thing, you were otherwise occupied...”
How could he have forgotten so quickly? Cheryl had been more of a mistake than he’d known. His distraction with the stylist had left him blind to Wendy here.
Wendy, who wasn’t his usual type. She wasn’t low maintenance or experienced or easy, in any sense of the word.
Instead she was fun. Surprising. Intriguing.
Not conventionally beautiful, but outright voluptuous.
And about as perfect as a woman could be.
“And I,” she went on fiercely, “was dating someone. I shouldn’t have been thinking about anyone else.”
“The boyfriend who’s afraid of virgins?” She nodded. Gently he screwed his fingertip barely inside her slit. “What’s his name?”
“Paul.”
“Do me a favor. Don’t mention Paul again.” His finger nudged the shy hole again and again until it relaxed and let him in deeper.
She was gasping. “Why?”
“Because guys like him who turn women like you off of fucking make me pissed.”
“He didn’t turn me—aaooouu, oh, great golly. Conn!”
The wonder and enchantment on her face...it gratified him. And his finger was barely in up to the first knuckle.
Watching her responsive face, he kept twisting, easing in further each time she relaxed. Her wetness, the squelching noises the sex toy made as it did what it was designed to do, communicated directly with his cock.
“You’re sending some pretty strong more signals. You want more, Two Shoes?” he said conversationally.
“Yes.” Her answer was short, breathless, and just a bit snotty.
He loved it.
“Because if this is boring you here…” He started to withdraw.
Her
legs tightened in a classic female signal for don’t you dare go.
“All right, then. So ask me,” he said thickly.
“For…”
“More.”
“What? Ask you? Why should I?”
“Because it turns me on to make grumpy virgins ask for penetration.”
“How many grumpy vir—“
“Zero. Ask, Two Shoes. Hurry up with it, because I need to finger fuck the hell out of you and pretend it’s my cock.”
“Oh, mudslides.” She sounded in agony. “Is this some—never mind. Will you, could you, I mean, can I have more? Good lord. Aargh, this stupid machine is driving me mad.”
“More what? More pepperoni?”
“More...more...I don’t know, more! More of something!” She gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “You’re like some demon robot, how can you be like this? Am I funny to you?”
“It’s self-preservation,” he murmured. “Yes, Wen, you amuse me, but mostly you make me harder than I ever remember being in my life. I’m trying like a good boy not to bury my dick right here,” and he rammed his finger in.
There was no barrier. He hadn’t had a virgin since losing his own virginity with one, but he was fairly certain this meant he didn’t have a hymen to surmount.
A super-picky virgin in a prissy dress with a tight, wet cunt, no hymen. Extra bonus: WYSIWYG model, doesn’t try to impress anyone.
Sold!
The only problem was, his tormented cock didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t getting the delectable pussy laid out here tonight. He adjusted himself yet again and began thrusting his crooked finger in and out. Shallowly. Never taking his eyes from Wendy.
He could see from her intent scowl that she was entirely focused on what he was doing. He imagined her brows drew together in just that way behind those glassse when she was presented with a drafting problem.
Suddenly she flushed a deep red. And began to thrash. Her face contorted in a wholly unmistakable way, a way that made his cock demand release from its confinement.
Therein lay danger. Maintaining physical barriers was essential to not devolving into a raving maniac. A woman who sews her own dress would not like it ripped from her limbs. She might also object to a shredded bra on principle.
Try Me (Seven Tech Tower Book 1) Page 5
