The Virgin Diaries: The Complete Series

by Lauren Landish

  The Virgin Diaries

  Lauren Landish

  Edited by

  Valorie Clifton

  Edited by

  Staci Etheridge

  Copyright © 2018 by Lauren Landish.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design © 2018 by OkayCreations.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  All characters are 18+ years of age, and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Contents

  Also by Lauren Landish

  Satin and Pearls

  Leather and Lace

  Silk and Shadows

  Sneak Peek: Desiring Diamonds

  Preview Dirty Talk

  About the Author

  Also by Lauren Landish

  Get Dirty (Interconnecting standalones):

  Dirty Talk || Dirty Laundry || Dirty Deeds || Dirty Secrets

  Irresistible Bachelors (Interconnecting standalones):

  Anaconda || Mr. Fiance || Heartstopper

  Stud Muffin || Mr. Fixit || Matchmaker

  Motorhead || Baby Daddy || Untamed

  Satin and Pearls

  by Lauren Landish

  Prologue

  Daisy

  Diary Entry, March 4th

  Dear Diary,

  I have a confession to make. I hate my math professor, Connor Daniels.

  From the moment he walked into class, he’s been a thorn in my side, constantly irritating and annoying me as he teaches. Arrogant doesn’t even begin to describe him, and it burns me how he expects all of us to be just as perfect as he is, pushing us to do better, learn faster, be more like him. I get that teachers are supposed to challenge their students, but he’s such a . . .

  He’s a dick.

  Cocky. Big-headed. Egotistical.

  So why can’t I stop fantasizing about him? Standing up there in his tight jeans, his bulge practically flaunted in my face. I picture the victorious way he’d smirk as he bent me over the desk, flipping my skirt up and taking me. Like it was inevitable.

  But here's the thing . . .

  I don't want him to just take my body, or my virginity.

  I want him to teach me . . . everything.

  Daisy

  “That asshole!” I seethe, blindly stabbing my way through a chunk of iceberg lettuce while staring at the paper in front of me. Arianna, my best friend and dormie, nods as she shoves a cherry tomato into her mouth, letting me continue my rant. “I spent all weekend busting my butt on this, double-checked it all, and he still gave me a C! A freaking C!”

  “Let me see,” Arianna says, mouth still full as she snatches the paper from my hands. She stares at my paper for a bit, then shakes her head. “Seriously, a point off for not closing a parenthesis at the end of an equation, and you got the right answer? That man has it in for you.”

  I can’t answer for a moment as I chew crunchily. “He’s an asshole,” I repeat when I can finally form words again.

  “Mmm, but what an ass,” Arianna jokes, miming spanking the air in front of her like it’s Professor Daniels’s butt. The bad thing is she’s right. He’s like the prettiest gift under the Christmas tree, all sexy and smart, but when you open it, wah-wah . . . the most frustrating personality.

  “What?” I gasp. “Did you really just say that?”

  Arianna, who’s the sort where you’re not sure whether she’s joking or not, nods. “Well, he’s hot as hell. I’m jelly, girl. If there’s anyone who can make math interesting, it’s that man. I’d be studying more than I have my entire life and asking for after-hours help!”

  I open my lips to object but close my mouth. The fact is, Ari’s right. Professor Daniels is the hottest professor—check that, the hottest man on campus. And I haven’t told her about how I fantasize about him almost every night. I can’t. It’d be impossible to explain how I can both hate him and lust after him, all at the same time. I don’t even understand it myself.

  “After-hours help? Fuck, you’re right. I need to go to tutoring, don’t I? Noooo.” My head falls as the realization rings true.

  “Yeah, well,” Arianna says with a smile, “that wouldn’t be all bad, now would it? And a C isn’t going to cut it, girly. Math is your major, after all, and he’s got influence in the department. You’d better make a good impression on him.”

  I don’t really have an answer. What am I going to do? It doesn’t seem as simple as ‘study more’. Couldn’t hurt, but shit, I already do more than most, and he always finds some way to dock my score. Admitting to needing help rubs me the wrong way, but Arianna’s right. If I’m going to continue on with my Master’s or a PhD, I could use a recommendation from Professor Daniels.

  But since the first day in his class, he’s been on my ass. Not literally, of course. That might actually be fun. I’d like to think it’s because he recognized right away that I could take it, that I would be one of his better students and he needed to push me. But if that’s the case, it damn sure doesn’t feel like it. And at this point, the grades are starting to catch up to me and I’m doubting my love of math, something that’s always been steadfast for me.

  I need that feeling back . . . that everything is logical, rational, and makes sense if you follow the step-by-step rules to find the solution. He’s taken that from me, and if swallowing my pride and asking for some additional help will get me back on solid ground, I’ll do it.

  Secretly, I’ll admit there’s a part of me that thinks being alone in a room with Professor Daniels sounds pretty sweet. Beyond the help to get my grade up, something I desperately need to do, the fantasy fodder is enticing.

  “Ugh, fine. I’ll go by his office,” I say, rolling my eyes as I beg the fluorescent cafeteria lights for strength. “What about you? Have you gotten that internship at Morgan yet?” I ask Arianna, trying to change the subject. Talking about Professor Daniels both annoys me and makes me hot, neither of which I want right now.

  She takes the bait, thankfully. “Nope. Haven’t heard a word back. I heard they’re doing a reorganization, which is slowing the whole thing down. Until they get that straightened out, they’re sitting on their asses.”

  I hum sympathetically, shaking my head. Ari’s been dying to get her foot in the door at Morgan. Me, I’ve just been focusing on my grades, trying to make sure they’re where they need to be to get into graduate school when the time comes. Might sound boring, but I want to control my own research, so that’s what I’ll need.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll hear back,” I reassure her. “You’ve got great ideas on just about everything.”

  “Just about?” Arianna asks, and I shrug.

  “Depends on what you say we’re doing this weekend,” I challenge.

  And just like that, she’s off and running down a list of possible activities for the weekend. None of which include my going to private, one-on-one, after-hours tutoring with a man totally off limits, completely maddening, and sexy as fuck.

  “So class, when you’re looking at the application of the cosine function to this curve . . .” Professor Daniels says. He continues talking, but my mind is wandering, perusing his body, every inch
the dream that constantly haunts my sleep.

  His thick slabs of muscle seem out of place on a man who knows more about math than all but maybe a couple of dozen people in the world. And today, he’s showing off. He’s always shunned the traditional ‘academics’ garb. In fact, the only day I’ve ever seen him in a jacket and tie was the first day of class, and today, he’s decided to go even more casual, in a Batman T-shirt and jeans that hug his ass so well.

  Could he be a smart and sexy nerd? The thought of him as a fanboy at a Comicon strikes me as funny until I think of what costume he might wear. I imagine how a skin-tight Batman suit would look on Daniels’s perfectly sculpted body.

  The thought engulfs my brain, and I can barely pay attention to what he’s saying every time he turns around to write on the board. I don’t even notice that I’m nibbling on the eraser of my pencil as he talks, my eyes glued to him.

  Luckily, I’m in the front row, right where the best students always sit. I’m not an ass-kisser, teacher’s pet type, but I definitely know myself. And if I sit in the back, I’ll spend the whole class watching people type on their phones, play video games on their laptops, and grab at whatever other distractions catch my attention. Up front, I get none of that and my focus stays exactly where it should be.

  Unfortunately, Professor Daniels mostly ignores me. He only calls on me when I don’t know the answer, studiously overlooking me when I do raise my hand. Speaking of, I realize he just asked a girl in the back a question. I turn to look as she answers correctly.

  “Yes, Miss Jacobs. That’s correct,” Professor Daniels says from the front of the room. The brunette beams like she answered the million-dollar question, placing a hand on her chest . . . her very visible, cleavage-pressed-up-to-her-chin chest. She’s one of those.

  For the most part, the girls in the room dress one of two ways—either total college girl, don’t-give-a-fuck attire, complete with yoga pants, baggy T-shirts, and messy hair, or bordering on night-out gear, tight jeans or short skirts, low-cut tops, and a full face of makeup at ten A.M. I feel certain those outfits are strictly for Daniels’s benefit.

  I’m somewhere in the middle, not overdoing it but putting forth some effort to look pulled together. Today, I have on skinny jeans and a V-neck shirt. Nothing too fancy, although I’d admit that I have on my favorite bra, the one that makes my tits look phenomenal without going too overboard. Classy sexy. Even though it’s wrong, a small part of me hopes he’ll notice.

  So far, no dice.

  Of course.

  My eyes are drawn to his crotch as he turns back around. Have mercy, what I would do to see what he’s got lovingly cradled in those Levi’s. Okay, so I might not know exactly what to do with it even if I could see, but I’m sure I’d figure it out really fucking quick. I’m a virgin, not a nun, and I’ve definitely seen my share of adult videos and read some racy books. I wonder how he looks. Feels. Tastes.

  He looks at me just as I lick my lips, and I quickly tear my eyes away, my heart pounding. Did he see me? A part of me hopes he saw it, and another part is afraid he’ll mark down my grades even worse for my audacity. I feel a flush rush across my cheeks as I cross my legs, squeezing my thighs to get some relief so I can focus.

  “So now, please clear your desks for the exam,” Professor Daniels says, picking up a pile of papers. “I’ll leave these review notes on the board. Some of you could use the boost.”

  He goes down the front row, silently counting off a pile of papers before handing them to us to pass back. When he reaches me, he pauses, his eyes looking into mine for a moment, and I freeze like a deer in headlights. Oh, God, he totally saw me. I’m so busted, and the embarrassment has me biting my lip, scared he’s actually going to call me out in front of everyone.

  There’s a hint of a smirk on his sensuous lips, but he hands me eight copies of the test to send back without a word. Then he moves on, leaving behind nothing but the spicy presence of his cologne like a ghost to mirror my own arousal.

  I watch as he moves the rest of the way down the front row, his commanding presence a draw for my eye as much as his ass in those jeans. Then he moves to the front of the room, sitting down on the desk like he’s the fucking boss. I guess in this room, he is.

  Face it, Daisy. He’s so sexy, there’s a reason none of the boys around here interest you. He’s a real man, my inner voice says, one who could show you just what you’ve been missing.

  Damn it! Focus, Daisy!

  I’m in so much trouble. I’m supposed to be concentrating on math, but my mind replays the moment when he caught me staring at his crotch, wondering about how big his dick is. In my imagination, I don’t blush like the semi-clueless virgin I am. Instead, I beckon him over and he unzips for me, letting his thick cock peek out of his jeans, and I lean forward, pressing my tits to the desk to taste him. And he groans at the delicious sensation, grabbing handfuls of my hair to guide me as he fucks my mouth.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter to myself, not sure if I’m talking about my fantasy or my outlook for this test.

  Daniels looks at his watch, a huge Rolex that speaks to his appreciation of the finer things in life. “You may begin. Good luck,” he says as time starts.

  “I can do this. I’ve studied and I know this material. Slow and careful and I’ll get that A,” I whisper, turning over my test sheet. Ugh.

  Time to get to work. I can’t waste precious seconds worrying about how far down my throat I could take Professor Daniels’s cock. That’s tangential to my current situation. “Just a sine of the times,” I joke to myself, hoping the math jokes get me going.

  I work meticulously, double-checking every answer once I’m done to make sure every decimal point is where I want it and that I haven’t made any stupid mistakes . . . like leaving out a parenthesis. Yeah, I’ve learned my lesson. When I’m done, there are still twenty minutes left in class, and I nod to myself. “Okay. I’ve got this.”

  I look around. Everyone still has their heads buried in their papers, but there’s nothing else for me to do. I should feel good, but it kind of worries me that I’m done so much faster than anyone else. I did check over it, though. I consider going over it again to fill time, but I’m nervous I’ll overthink things and change correct answers.

  Putting my pencil away, I look up at Professor Daniels, who’s moved to the stool behind his desk and is sitting with his feet up on the bar, his powerful thighs stretching the denim of his jeans as he lords over the domain of his classroom, watching us work.

  I walk up, laying my paper on the desk in front of him.

  Professor’s eyes follow my approach. I notice that his gaze falls into the lightly tanned valley between my breasts for an instant, and heat floods my body before he jerks them away, reaching over to pick up his red pen as he glares at my paper like it’s filthy trash.

  “That was quick. Are you sure you’re done?” he asks. His tone is questioning, like he already knows I fucked this up. I square my shoulders, meeting his eyes defiantly. His dark look seems to burn into my very soul. And for a moment, I think he’s not talking about the test . . . but that’s just wishful thinking.

  “I’m sure. It was hard, but I managed. I think the last one taught me to be extra-vigilant about the details,” I reply so sweetly, so innocently, as if he doesn’t piss me off for his anal-retentive grading. I also emphasize the hard a little bit too much on purpose, flirting just enough.

  He smirks, nodding as his eyes take me in again. Is he actually checking me out? Heat starts to warm my core at the thought. “That’s good. I’ll see you next time, or just have a seat if you want to see your grade before you leave.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I reply softly. “I hope it meets your . . . expectations.”

  I return to my seat, making as much of a show as I can of the few steps, letting my hips sway a little more than usual. When I sit down, I see he’s still looking at me, but only for a brief moment before he turns to my paper.

  I can only dream that beh
ind his stern look, he’s thinking of ways to mark me like he’s marking my paper. Wait . . . what? Fuck. He just made a red mark on my test . . . and another.

  Where I had been feeling sexy, my panties dampening with desire from even the momentary conversation with him, now I’m pissed anew.

  Tests filter in through the rest of the time, and after they’re all in, he passes out the few he’s managed to grade so far. He comes by, setting my test facedown on my desk, and my hands tremble as I flip it over to find . . . a B.

  Shocked, I go over my test, seeing the blotches of red like accusations to my intellect. My answers are correct, but it’s in the here and there that he takes off the points, little errors that don’t even affect the final answers!

  “I’ll see you all next time. I’ll have the rest of the tests graded and ready to return then,” he says as almost everyone files out. I gather my stuff, holding in my anger. At Daniels or myself, I’m not really sure.

  “Hey, a B’s not too bad,” a sweet voice next to me says encouragingly. I look to my right and see Sabrina Bowen. She’s a junior and one of the prettiest girls in class, with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and pouty pink lips. Pretty, smart, and sweet. If it wasn’t for that last one, the sweet factor, I’d hate her out of sheer catty jealousy. But she’s truly a nice person, which makes you feel like shit for being envious of her. She slides her bag over her shoulder. “I’m just hoping for a C.”

  “Thanks. Just thought I did better than this. Some of these marks are nit-picky considering I got the right answer. He’s such a hardass!” I grumble, my voice getting a tad too loud by the end of my rant. She frowns sympathetically, but then I hear it.