After a moment, I head toward Mr. Blackstone’s office and knock on the door.
I wait for a moment and then peek inside. He isn’t here. Neither is Jacob.
I glance about and realize that in the external office, another small desk has been added overnight. Mr. Wilkes’s desk remains in the same spot, but the line of chairs on the right side of the room has been replaced with an oak desk and cabinet. I walk over and see a note taped to the computer screen. It says Arianna on the front, and I flip it over.
In a meeting until 10:30. I expect to have these things done for me by the time I’m back.
Coffee, black.
One egg sandwich from the 2nd floor, over-easy. I have a tab.
Read the Eastern Regional Report and have a synopsis prepared.
Your pussy, nice and wet for me.
Under the last line is a cursive L with a little swirl of ink underneath, and excitement thrums through me. I shiver as I think about how his fingers felt on me, and my clit starts to throb, wanting it again. If that’s what he’s gonna do to me with a simple note, I’m going to have to start bringing a change of panties.
Looking over my desk, I find the report and peruse it, getting the gist of how the eastern region is doing, complete with projections and areas of growth. A quick call down to the second floor informs me that they’ll happily deliver Mr. Blackstone’s sandwich right at the stroke of ten thirty, so that’s taken care of. After that, I search for the coffee maker, finding it hidden behind a sliding cabinet door on the minibar. I giggle a bit at that, like the coffee pot can’t be out for eyes to see? I grin at the thought, though I realize it’s probably more testimony to my poor upbringing than his wealthier bourgeois style. It’s a bit complicated to work the thing, but after a few minutes, I have it set up and ready to go.
I stop for a moment, realizing that I’ve completed my to-do list, and I glance around, once again awed by the splendor of the room. It is truly stunning, and looking out at the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows, my breath’s taken away again.
A sudden urge comes over me and I go behind Mr. Blackstone’s desk, running my hand over the plush leather of his chair. This is where I want to be. The queen of my destiny. Turning the chair to the side, I do what probably every secretary in history has done and sink down into it, feeling it envelope me as I feel the bolt of power from sitting on the throne. Wiggling back, a soft sigh escapes my lips.
“A chair fit for a king,” I murmur, “or queen.”
Knowing it’s wrong but not able to help myself, I kick my legs up on his desk, just for a second, and my mind wanders to a future where this is my reality. Yep, this is the life for me.
I must lose track of time for a moment because I’m surprised when the door springs open. I jump to my feet as Liam walks in, every bit the powerful CEO. He’s wearing navy blue today, not gray, but other than that, he’s just as sexy as yesterday, and my heart thumps in my chest as I take him in.
He pauses, his eyes roving over me. The hair on my forearms stands up as I blush, knowing I’m busted. “Mr. Blackstone.”
“Getting comfortable, I see,” he says with an arrogant smirk. Behind him, I can see Mr. Wilkes, looking not too pleased.
“I . . . umm,” I stammer before hanging my head. “I’m sorry.”
He chuckles as he walks toward the windows. He gestures to the space next to him, and I obediently stand beside him, following his gaze over the city below as I brush a lock of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to explain or apologize. You said this is your dream, so you’re checking things out. It’s enticing, no?”
He leans over, and I’m enveloped by the cologne that I love. Sweet leather. I have to learn what the hell the name of that stuff is because partnered with his natural scent, it’s like an aphrodisiac straight to my core.
“It was my dream once, too, and I made it my reality,” he says, but he’s not looking at his office or the view. He’s looking at me.
I gulp, and he glances behind us. There’s a soft click, and I realize that Jacob has left and we’re alone once again. Liam moves to his chair, sitting down comfortably, the crown invisible but no less present with the power emanating from him. “Did you complete your list, Arianna?”
He glances down my body pointedly, but I’m not that easy. I remember Daisy’s advice to be strong and see if he stays with me. “I did, Mr. Blackstone,” I say, purposefully using the name to differentiate what mode we’re currently in. “Breakfast will be delivered in minutes. Would you like your coffee now?”
He dips his chin, an amused smirk on his face, like he knows what I’m doing and is getting a kick out my attempt to act unaffected by him. I’m sure he can see the flush on my face, but I press on, grabbing a mug and filling it with the dark brew. The aroma fills my senses, lessening the effect of his cologne and waking me up even without the caffeine dose. I set the coffee down in front of him, but instead of drinking it, he asks, “And the Eastern Region report?”
“Yes, sir. It’s in your inbox.” I pick up the file from the corner of his desk. “Would you like the synopsis?”
He gestures widely with his hands, giving me the floor. I come around to his side, placing the folder in front of him and turning to the report so he can follow along as I speak. “Second-quarter figures were trending up, and that was expected to continue. However, third-quarter shows stabilizing numbers.”
He interrupts me. “Why did you look at the second quarter if I told you I wanted a synopsis of the third-quarter report?”
I glance at him in surprise. “Because without the relevant framework, the figures are useless. They’re only helpful in the scheme of up, down, or staying the same. Knowing that we had $55 million in sales could be cause for celebration or to close the doors, but that’s only knowable in context.” He inclines his head, and I think I might’ve jumped a notch in his estimation. “As I was saying, the stabilizing figures indicate . . .” and I continue a brief summarization.
I’m standing over him as he sits, a power position, but it’s a false show because we both know who the boss is in this room. And though he’s nodding along as I give my report, he’s distracting me, letting his fingertips trace along my arm and up my thigh. “Please focus, Arianna. Being focused is the only way to succeed, and you do want to succeed, don’t you?” He smirks at me. The cocky bastard knows what he’s doing to me.
Suddenly, he snaps, “Enough. Excellent summarization. Now, about the rest of the list . . .” He closes the file, setting it aside and pulling me between his spread legs, my ass resting along the edge of the desk.
I knew he silently promised this, but there’s no way we could do this every day and actually get work done. And while the idea of seeing what Mr. Blackstone has to offer, I’m here for more than that. I have a goal, and getting lost in how badly I want him isn’t helping me accomplish that.
Liam, though, seems to be unconcerned. “Did you complete your final task? Is this pussy wet and ready for me?”
I bite my lip, hedging my answer. “I am . . . wet, but I don’t know about ready.”
The smug tilt of his lips says he thinks otherwise. “Have you ever heard of edging?”
“No,” I rasp, my head spinning as he cups my breast through my blouse, his fingers tugging on my stiffening nipple through my thin bra. “What’s—”
Before I can finish, he lifts me onto the desk, his hands slipping up my skirt along my inner thighs to palm my pussy through my damp panties.
“Edging,” he whispers huskily in my ear, sounding almost like a teacher or instructor, “is when I get you so close to the edge, but right before you fall off, I let up. Then, when you calm down a little, I do it again . . . and again . . . and again. It’s sweet, sweet torture, but oh, so delectable.”
“Oh, God,” I moan as his hand massages my pussy, rolling his fingers between my lips, soaking the fabric of my panties. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“Lift up,” he hisses, and w
hen I do, he slides my panties down my thighs, tucking them into his desk drawer with an evil grin. I wonder what he’s going to do with them later, but the thought flies out of my head when he starts tweaking my clit. “I’m teaching you, Babydoll. I’m showing you that patience is essential, along with control and the ability to hold steady, even when your body screams for something else. Like last night. Do you think I went home and jacked off as I thought about how you will look with that ‘O’ on your face as my cock slides inside you?”
I moan, his powerful fingers doing amazing things to me as he talks dirty to me. “Oh, fuck. Did you?”
His massage of my core is so good that I’m almost ready to come, but he pulls back, chuckling. “No,” he whispers. “I didn’t. Just like you aren’t . . . until I’m ready to let you.”
His words hit me hard, and I whimper, looking at him. “Please,” I moan, my body quivering. “I need—”
“Please, what?” Liam asks, lifting an eyebrow, his fingers still touching me but not moving at all.
“Please, sir, let me come.”
He starts again, bringing me to the brink with his fingers on my clit and teasing along my entrance. I desperately need more, his finger inside me or for him to stay focused on my clit, but he stops again. It’s like he said, sweet torture as my pussy feels swollen, puffy, and aching, my fingers gripping the edge of his desk so hard I’ve got cramps threatening in my forearms. But I can only think of one thing.
“Please,” I beg again.
He bends closer, eyes locked onto my pussy, and though I know I should tell him to stop, I can’t. He’s increasing the price, but when his tongue swipes across my aching clit, it’s an expense I’ll gladly pay. “Oh, God,” I cry out, trying so hard to be quiet.
The feel of his tongue on my pussy is more than I could have ever imagined. Hot, wet, and a completely different sensation from his fingers. And when he moans against my sensitive skin, the vibration nearly sends me over.
“Fuck, doll. You taste like candy, so sweet I want to drink you down.” I think that’s exactly what he’s doing as he covers my pussy with his mouth, sucking my sensitive skin and flicking his tongue across my engorged clit.
I can feel my body building up to something massive, something I’ve never experienced before. If this is edging, I want to do it all the time. I suspect it has more to do with the man between my thighs than some trick of orgasm denial though.
He pulls me tighter against his face, my pussy chasing his tongue unashamedly. “You want to come?” he says. I nod, whimpering. “What are you willing to give for it?” he asks, stroking a finger once over my lips. I cry out. I’m closer than ever, but he knows just what he’s doing.
My mouth drops open, then I shut it with a snap as I glare at him, the denial starting to fray the edges of my patience. There’s no way I’m going to give up this easily, this quickly, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t tempt me. I open my mouth again, looking down at him. “Loyalty.”
“I don’t want your loyalty.” He snickers. “I’ll earn that in time. No . . . I want your obedience.”
I gulp, knowing I’m handing him some of the power that he promised me yesterday . . . but not too much. “But what do you want me to do?”
Liam grins. “Stay still and let me fuck you with my tongue. Don’t make a sound.”
I nod, gritting my teeth as he massages me, spreading my lips wide open to his gaze. It’s so hard not to cry out, my chest aching and my fingers knotting as I grip the desk tightly. He slips the tip of his tongue into my pussy, just barely penetrating me, but it’s so much better. It’s a hint of what I really want, what I need, but he’s still teasing me, barely thrusting inside as he lazily rubs his thumb across my clit.
I can feel the fire building in my stomach, and I’m about to explode when there’s a knock at the door. “Mr. Blackstone? There’s something that needs your attention.”
“Fuck,” Liam hisses, his mouth and fingers deserting me.
He pushes his chair back and adjusts his pants, pulling me from the desk and handing me the folder he’d set aside. “Sit in the chair, doll.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. “Are you—”
My body obeys while my mind catches up, and as I walk from between his legs, he swats my ass with a soft smack. I look back sharply, and he grins, making sure I see him wiping my juices from his mouth and sucking his fingers clean.
I’ve barely set my ass in his chair when he yells out, “Come in.”
Liam
I’m hard as a rock and glad my desk covers me as Jacob and Melvin Jackson walk in the door. Jacob leads the way, looking around like he’s probably guessed what was going on with Arianna, but he doesn’t know for sure, and I’m going to keep it that way as long as I can to save myself from the lecture. Melvin is a lanky, odd-looking fellow who could double as Norman Bates with glasses, and he always comes off as nervous for some reason. He was already working at Morgan when I took over and has been helpful during the transition to my leadership. Not sure exactly how he got that gig because technically, he doesn’t even work on this floor, but he showed up one day with some interesting figures and some intel to share, so he’s been useful, at least.
“Yes?” I ask, tilting my head. “You did say it was important?”
Melvin looks to Jacob, who nods. Jacob intends the nod to give Melvin permission to speak, but Melvin reads it incorrectly and takes it as the go-ahead to sit in my guest chair. The one right next to Arianna.
He looks over at her, and I notice his eyes stay strictly on her face, not scanning her lush curves. He might’ve just gone up a small notch in my estimation because if he’d looked at her body, I would’ve been tempted to teach him a lesson about looking at what’s mine.
Wait . . . what? She’s not mine, and I’m not some Neanderthal. But the urge to mark her, claim her, sits in my gut like a stone. It might not be politically correct, and I suspect she’d kick me in the balls if I verbalized my thoughts aloud, but it’s the possessive impulse I feel. I wonder if Jacob and Melvin can smell the sweetness of her sex in the air of my office or if they realize why Arianna’s cheeks are flushed? I waver between pride, knowing that she’s only that undone because of me, and fury, greedy that only I see her that way.
Melvin reaches out a hand to Arianna, “Melvin Jackson, Vice President of Business Analytics.” She takes his hand for a quick shake, introducing herself too.
And then Melvin turns his attention to me. Finally. “Sir, I just wanted to say that I think you’ve done a great job since taking over as CEO this summer. The figures show a significant uptick in public perception and stock indexes are expected to reflect that.”
“Appreciated, but if that’s all, Melvin, I’m really—”
“But there are whispers,” Melvin says quickly. He glances back at Arianna, obviously uncertain whether he should say what he wants to in front of her.
I glance to Jacob, who nods. Apparently, I need to hear whatever Melvin is dishing. “It’s okay, Melvin. You can speak freely in front of Arianna.” My words elicit similar reactions in them both, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. Arianna quickly schools her features, though I can read her delight at getting some insight on the inner workings of Morgan. Melvin still looks unsure, but he continues.
“Sir, when you took over, you brought with you a . . . well, some people are calling it a ‘rockstar’ attitude. You have to understand, Morgan has always had a more traditional corporate culture. We’ve succeeded for years on a solid business model of predicting the market and being there before the competitors. But the changes you are implementing? There is concern that perhaps you’re more flash than substance. That perhaps you simply don’t understand what has made Morgan the company it is today, what we stand for, or who we are.”
“They brought me in to shake things up, and my track record speaks for itself,” I reply. “Melvin, this company lost millions last year and needs a fast turnaround to stay at the forefront of the market you’re
trying to predict. I don’t want Morgan to follow along like sheep, chasing dollars and market shares. I want to create the market trends, have the other companies scrambling to catch up with us. Just give it some time and you’ll see. My way works.”
He nods but is still unsatisfied. “But sir, I think you’ll see in our third-quarter reports that sales are at respectable levels, and moving into the fourth quarter, I predict we’ll see similar numbers, maybe even an increase of one to two percent, which could be extremely beneficial for Morgan’s bottom line.”
I sigh. “Third-quarter reports? I was just going over the Eastern Region report this morning,” I say, giving Arianna a quick glance. “While the numbers look good, if you compare them with the second quarter, you can see that they’re trending down.” Arianna uncrosses and recrosses her legs, drawing my attention. I offer her a smile, acknowledging that I’m repeating her synopsis from this morning. But I didn’t need her to tell me that. I already knew. I’d just wondered if she’d take initiative and what her summary of the report would show . . . a regurgitation of the numbers or a more thoughtful analysis? Luckily, my smart girl knows her stuff and dug deeper.
“And beyond the quarter to quarter changes, look back to last year’s third quarter. We’re down almost nine percent since then. Unacceptable, especially considering we had a product availability increase in the area. Status-quo thinking doesn’t get status-quo results. If we stay stagnant and don’t change our MO, Morgan will fail, and I refuse to let that happen. So, innovative thinking and new possibilities are the direction we’re heading.”
Melvin bows his head for a moment, frustration written in the lift of his shoulders, which are nearing his ears. He sighs. “Very well, sir. If you’re certain that is the best path, perhaps you should amp up the ‘rockstar’ a bit for the board then. Really sell them on your plan, explain your business model of change, and that they should believe in your ideas. Get them on board in a big way so that we can be a team again.”
The Virgin Diaries Page 16
