The Virgin Diaries: The Complete Series

by Lauren Landish

  Jacob looks at me, nonplussed. “You could’ve handled that better.” He plops down into the chair Melvin just vacated. He doesn’t need an invite or permission since he’s my best friend and my right-hand guy at the office.

  I shake my head. “It’s the truth. Do you believe that guy?”

  “You didn’t really give him a chance to speak. Some of the stuff he told me . . .” Jacob says after a moment. “I don’t know. Like, some of the executives are uncomfortable with your new direction and chatting among themselves. I think one comment he says he heard was ‘this isn’t the eighties, and he isn’t Gordon fucking Gekko. He said he might’ve even overheard the word ‘takeover’ from one, but he wasn’t sure who it was. Hallway chatter, apparently.”

  “No one has given me that impression. I’ve gotten nothing but praise from the board,” I muse. “And they asked me here, knowing Morgan needed some drastic action to stay solvent.” It’s times like this that I appreciate Jacob. He’s my sounding board and trusted advisor. “What do you think? Should I be worried?”

  Jacob scratches at the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t know. I haven't heard anything that’s bad, but Melvin is part of a certain inner circle. They might be whispering behind closed doors. I could see the comment being made by some people.”

  “Fuck them. They’re comparing me to a fictional asshole,” I growl, hating the comparison. “Why bring me in to begin with if they want me to conform to the same old thinking? All the hoopla that surrounds me is just the window dressing. It’s called creating buzz. We’ve done this before, us against the old regime. We’re good and what we do works.”

  Jacob shrugs, unconcerned. “You’re good, Liam. But you have rocked some boats.” He glances at Arianna and then back to me. I eye him, letting him know in our nonverbal shorthand to watch his step because I can see where this is going.

  “Pulling up Arianna to be your secretary probably didn’t help matters. It’s raised some eyebrows. And I’m not going to ask what you two have been doing for the past thirty minutes.”

  Arianna shrinks in her chair, her cheeks blushing furiously. If there was any doubt, she might as well have shouted from the rooftop what we’ve been up to. Jacob is broaching on some treacherous waters, and I warn him off so he doesn’t piss me off too badly. I snap, “Jacob, watch it.”

  “Look, whatever you two do outside the office is none of my business. On your own time, that’s all well and good. But here? We need to stay on task. We’re mid-transition and implementing big changes that make folks uncomfortable. Adding in some crazy ‘rockstar’ shit like fucking an intern in your office” —he turns to Arianna— “or fucking the CEO, is dangerous.” Arianna gasps, horrified and embarrassed at his words.

  I growl, ready to tear into Jacob, but he holds up a staying hand, and only because of years of friendship do I let him speak. “HR has already been hounding me about why a new job was created without their procedures being followed. You can hire and fire assistants at will, but the way you did it? It’s just another tally in the ‘doesn’t follow the rules’ column.”

  “Okay, Jacob, you’ve said your piece and you’re done. It’s my turn. You’re just doing your job, and I get that, but there are going to be pissed-off people. There always are when we come in and start changing shit. And you’re right, what I do outside the office, or inside,” I snarl, “is none of your business. But a secretary is a good thing for us both. Arianna can help me, but she can also help you. Feel free to offload some of your duties to her so that we can work on the higher-level stuff for the board. She can do more than make copies and coffee, so use her. I want her to learn.”

  Jacob and I have a war with our eyes, neither of us willing to give in to the other. Finally, he sighs and turns to Arianna. “I’ve read your file. I know you’re smart . . . 3.85 GPA in international business with a minor in finance, and impressive internships and references. But one of my jobs is to protect Liam. Do I need to protect him from you?”

  It’s a blunt question, and not one I foresaw him asking. Arianna seems to take it stride, having recovered enough from her initial mortification at being called out to watch my exchange with Jacob closely, though I can still see the slight flush to her cheeks. “Mr. Wilkes, working for Morgan has been a dream of mine. Professionally, getting to be a fly on the wall and watch Mr. Blackstone work at turning this ship around is an experience I wouldn’t dare mess up. Personally, while it is a delicate dance, we are figuring things out appropriately, and rest assured it will not affect my professionalism nor have ugly ramifications in the future.”

  Usually, when people couch what they’re saying in business lingo, I tune out the droning. But listening to Arianna slay business babble is apparently a new turn-on for me, especially when she says we’re figuring things out. Because I’m damn sure figuring her out, bit by bit, response by response, and I like what I’m learning about her.

  Jacob looks between the two of us and sighs again, rolling his eyes, but he seems to be a little less concerned. “Okay. I hear you. I’m with you all the way, no matter what. Just saying, a little tact goes a long way.”

  “Yeah, well, so does a little recognition. You know I’m not going to let my personal life interfere with what we’re doing. We’re already turning this company around, Jacob. You and me. We’ve busted our asses, given up a shitload of nights out, and had too many cold dinners at home to count. Now we’re here, and nothing’s going to stop us. This isn’t a one-man show, no matter what the image might be.”

  Jacob nods. “Thanks for that, Liam. I’ll do my best, then. I won’t let you down.”

  “That’s the spirit. Now, look at my desk. See the coffee and my sandwich? That’s two duties you don’t have to do from now on.”

  Jacob looks at the sandwich and then to Arianna before laughing a little. “Great, my two easiest duties taken care of. Now what will I do with all my spare time?”

  “Keep my ass out of the fire,” I reply, shifting a little. Despite my bravado, Melvin’s comments could be a problem. “If I’m causing a divide within the company this early in the game, we’ll do well to listen to the rumblings . . . just a little bit.”

  Jacob nods and stands, leaving the weight of his concerns on my shoulders. But he gives both me and Arianna a pointed look as he closes the door. He’s watching us, making sure we don’t misstep or let this, whatever this is, affect work. It’s not what I typically ask of him, but I’m damn sure he’s got my back. And maybe Arianna’s too.

  She looks back to me, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind as she processes everything she just witnessed, evaluating it for every nugget of information she can glean. Finally, she says, “Now what?”

  When most people ask me a question like that, it’s because they’re waiting for me to set the course and to proceed, ready to follow me to the slaughterhouse if I deem it, like sheeple following their leader. Me. But when Arianna asks that, it almost feels like she’s already decided on the proper course of action and she’s testing me to see if I have the right answer. The thought that she might consider that she knows more than I do amuses me, but at the same time, I respect her mind and am curious what she has in hers. “You tell me.”

  She dips her chin in deference, recognizing the gift of power I just bestowed on her. “We need to be discreet and careful. Neither of us wants our professional career marred with some office romance scandal. I’m here to learn, and you can teach me so much. I don’t want to lose that opportunity. Nor can you allow your apparently tenuous hold on the board to be muddied by it coming out that you’re fucking your intern.”

  I grin. She’s not wrong. But I didn’t get to where I am now, sitting in this leather chair at the head of an international business empire, by playing it safe. Risk is inherent. Risk is what begets reward. When calculated correctly, risk is the stepping stone that jumps you ahead of all safe moves. “You’re right. But I’m not fucking my intern . . . yet,” I say, using her sexy crude language right back at her
. “And I do have so much to teach you, Ms. Hunnington. For example . . . come here.”

  “What?” she sputters, unsure at the game I’m playing because my plan is so counterintuitive to her own well-thought-out, responsible choice.

  “Come. Here. Arianna.” I let the authority I have over her, both professional and intimate, filter into the words, giving them a heavy weight of command. She rises, slowly but surely walking to my side. I lean back in my chair for a moment, head tilted as I scan her up and down, intentionally pausing on the curves of her ass and tits. I can see her chest rising as her breathing gets faster. Without warning, I grab her hips, yanking her between my legs once again and pushing her back on my desk, just like she was before we were interrupted. Her gasp of surprise is like a shot of adrenaline through my veins. Her hands on my shoulders as she works to steady herself from the fast movement is the only thing holding me to earth.

  “Lift.” She puts her palms on the desk, lifting her hips so I can slide her skirt back up to her waist. Her bare pussy is still wet for me, maybe even wetter, I realize, as I see the wetness spreading along her thighs from where she’s crossed her legs.

  “I agree we need to be on our best behavior over the next couple of days while I smooth some ruffled feathers.”

  She looks down at me, the fire back in her eyes. “You don’t strike me as a man who lets people tell him what to do.”

  “I don’t,” I reply, spreading her legs and pulling her to the edge of the desk so that she’s right in front of my hungry eyes. “I do what I want. I’m just taking a few precautions. The long game. And even I know when some rules should be followed.”

  She gasps as I grab handfuls of her lush thighs, pulling her pussy wide open so I can see every inch of her pinkness. “Doesn’t that mean—”

  “And when some rules can be bent or broken. Don’t worry, doll, I still intend on giving you more than you can handle,” I continue, bending down to lick the seam where her leg joins her center. “I want a buildup . . . because I have something special planned.”

  She practically melts for me, her ass grinding against the desk as she nears her edge again . . . but I have no intention of letting her come. Not yet. If I’m waiting, she can damn sure wait, following me into lust-induced madness too. “What’s that? Oh, God, this feels good.”

  “This weekend,” I whisper, teasing her clit with feather-light flicks I know will torture her but not make her come, “you will stay at my place . . . and I’m going to give you what you want. You’ll like that, won’t you? Coming to my place . . . to learn what coming really means. Like you want to now.”

  My clever girl fights back, though, chasing my tongue, and I’m so very tempted to give in and let her come all over my mouth. But then she speaks around her moans. “I don’t think . . . I shouldn’t.”

  Fuck, this woman. I’m damn-near out of my mind, and she’s riding my face like it’s heaven she’s never imagined, but she still holds back from me, still has her faculties to doubt this. I promised her I’d impress her enough to earn the space between her thighs, but I didn’t know I’d have to work this fucking hard for it. I’m verging on saying fuck it and just giving in so she comes all over my mouth, but I hold back, knowing that my initial idea of teasing her until she crosses the line where need rules her body is still my best course of action.

  I lay a sucking kiss on her clit, and her thighs clamp around my head, trying to keep me there. But I press her legs open with my elbows, spreading her pussy with my hands. She’s right there on the edge. I know one touch will send her over. I look up at her, waiting for her eyes to snap to mine in impatience. “This weekend . . . we’ll see.”

  And with that, I lay one last chaste kiss to her bare mound, avoiding her clit where she desperately wants me, and then sit back in my chair. Never breaking eye contact, I wipe her juices from my lips, slipping a finger into my mouth to taste her once more. She huffs, confused for a second, and I see the moment her orgasm falls away, the lust clears, and she glares at me. It might be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

  She shoves me out of the way, jumping from the desk and shoving her skirt down. “Mother fucker. Ugh, I can’t believe you.” She keeps murmuring, and I hear my name a few times as she gets closer to the door.

  Right as she reaches for the doorknob, I call out. “Arianna.” She stops, barely turning her head to look at me. “Negotiation lesson. Everyone comes to the table with something of value, some more valuable, some less. But everyone has something. You have what I want . . . that hot, virgin pussy that I know will feel so sweet coming on my cock. I have what you want.”

  I pause and her eyes spark. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man. “Not that, Arianna. I’ve already told you I know you’re no whore. I won’t be trading business for pleasure. What I bring to the table . . . is me. My desire to fuck you, show you what your body can handle, teach you about all the wonders the flesh can offer.” Even I know there’s more to it than that, but physical pleasure is all I can promise right now, and I hope it’s enough.

  “I do want that,” she says, but the confession isn’t the soft admission I’d expect it to be. “But I want that with one man, The One. Nothing more and nothing less. And though you tempt me . . .” She rolls her eyes. “Fuck, do you tempt me. I know the value of what I bring to the table, Mr. Blackstone. Sometimes, the real thing is worth the price you have to pay.” She says the words like she’s quoting something or someone, like she found a hidden well of strength deep within her to resist my charms.

  But as she leaves, defiantly looking at me with a glare I’m sure she thinks is frosty, I can see the heat, the desire burning hot inside her. I’ve already got her. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  Arianna

  Dear Diary,

  It’s been insanely hard behaving over the past few days. Every day, Liam looks at me like a starving wolf, ready to devour my body. Though I tried to stick with the cold shoulder, he quickly wore me down. I’m such a sucker, but the way his eyes track me is heady, making me feel simultaneously at his mercy and powerful, and when I get close enough, he brushes against me, subtle touches that make me burn at the contact.

  Every word carries sexual undertones, and I have to admit to trying to give as good as I’m getting. I tempt him, whether to look down my blouse or to see that I’m wearing a thong. I know it makes his dick hard and hungry, and I can’t help but leave these encounters with a smile, feeling victorious even though I’m playing with fire.

  The power dynamic between us is constantly changing. One second, I’m teasing him, feeling every bit the vixen I’m really not, and the next, he’s got me shoved up against the window as he demands ‘just a taste’. And even though he hasn’t let me come since that first day, I obey every time, futilely hoping he’ll let me come this time but enjoying the way he tortures me regardless.

  The only thing not making me lose my mind is that he’s letting me use mine, staying true to his promise to teach me. We’ve discussed his business evaluation of Morgan, past, present, and future. We’ve talked about negotiation tactics and management techniques, and I’ve been lucky enough to sit in on several meetings to take notes, though Jacob is always there too since he’s Liam’s right-hand man and has a rather amazing business mind of his own. The three of us even went to lunch yesterday, and just listening to them talk about their experiences was better than any college lecture I’ve ever had.

  It’s all been this tightrope walk of balance, professional and personal, intimate and formal, business and pleasure. And while I know I’ve impressed Liam a few times with my thoughts as he’s questioned me, I’ll admit that he’s impressed me too.

  But is that enough? Enough to give in on a rule I made for myself? Even if it wasn’t for some big moral, ethical stance, but rather a fear-induced boundary to keep my heart safe from further hurt. But giving in might lead to exactly that, a much deeper pain than I’ve ever felt before. The folks back home who said shit, I didn’t really ca
re about them one way or the other.

  But Liam? I am starting to care, especially as I get to know him better and see the good inside him that he dresses up in the cocky asshole business façade. It’s a good front and gets the job done, because it’s not like a ball-busting CEO can be a nice guy who politely asks for things. But the real Liam is a good guy just trying to make a difference and succeed.

  Late one night, when it was just the two of us in the office, he even told me the story of how his dad didn’t want him taking over the family business. He’d said that the critical words gave him the push to fight harder, work longer, and be stronger, but I could see the cutting pain his dad’s careless words had caused.

  That Liam, vulnerable and sweet, mixed with the business one, cold and calculating, and topped with his heavy-handedness with me, dominant and sexy, is doing a weird number on my mind, my body, my heart. And I’m actually considering going to his place this weekend.

  Grabbing a stack of papers out of the ‘work’ box Jacob set up for me, I see they need to be copied and collated for the board meeting on Monday. It’s busy work that’ll at least keep me occupied. Anything is better than the quiet humming office white noise.

  Just as I round the corner to the copy room, I run into someone, startling me so much I drop my stack of papers. “Oh!”

  “Sorry about that,” the guy says, bending down to pick up my papers before I can move. Thankfully, the stack was double-binder-clipped together so it’s not a scattered mess.

  “Me too . . . sorry. And thank you,” I say as he stands back upright and hands the papers to me. I realize I know this guy. Though he’s not particularly attractive, his black slightly dorky glasses are memorable. “Uhm, Melvin, right? I mean, Mr. Jackson.” Shit. I totally just collided with the VP who’s helping Liam.