The Virgin Diaries: The Complete Series

by Lauren Landish

  “Where are you going with a rocket up your ass?” Jacob asks. “I’ve never seen you beat me out the door before.”

  “Today’s a day for first times,” I reply, grinning, but he doesn’t get the double meaning. “And I’m going home.”

  The Ferrari is a pleasure to drive, and I’m home in a jiffy. It still feels like too long since I last saw Arianna, though it’s only been a few hours. When I pull up, I feel the thrum of the engine rumbling as the glass garage doors open for me. They aren’t really glass, of course—they’re laminate—but I do love the irony of living in a ‘glass house’, considering the number of stones I throw around the business world.

  Randolph is waiting for me in the back hall as I come in from the garage, his hands behind his back and his face stern. “Mr. Blackstone, welcome home.”

  “Is she upstairs?” I ask, handing Randolph the keys.

  “She is. After a light dinner, she said she was fine waiting for you alone. Will there be anything else tonight, sir?” His voice is even, practiced neutrality.

  “No, that’s everything. Thanks, Randolph,” I say hurriedly, barely restraining myself from running up the stairs to my doll.

  Randolph clears his throat, “Sir? If I may . . .” I look to him, seeing his request to speak freely in his eyes. I dip my chin, giving permission. “Forgive me if I am out of line, but there is something special about her. She seems strong, but also . . . fragile? Do be careful.”

  I don’t like his insinuation that I’m some gruff asshole, but it’s closer to the truth than I’d like to admit and he knows it. But I’m not sharing my feelings with Randolph, even if we have worked together for years. We’re close, but it’s a decidedly more professional relationship than I have with Jacob. I nod, letting him know I hear him. “Thank you, Randolph. I appreciate that, and I know that she’s special.”

  Even the words on my tongue feel inadequate. It’s only been a short time, but spending hours on end together, discussing business but also our pasts, and sharing our thoughts has been like a microcosm of rapid get-to-know-you speed-dating. Tonight is special, whether I get inside her body or not, because I’m already in her mind and she’s inside mine. The mere fact that she came to my house is a step in the direction I’ve been pulling her toward all along.

  I head upstairs, finding Arianna in the main living room, looking out through the tall windows to the treed area behind my property. She’s changed, and my heart pauses in my chest as I take her glorious form in. The white silk robe she’s put on both hides and hugs her form, and her long legs stick out the bottom, seemingly going for miles to her cute little bare feet.

  The robe is slightly see-through, and what I can see underneath stops my heart again. I can’t see the details, but the faint outlines of what she’s wearing have my cock rock hard in my pants.

  She hasn’t heard me come in and I don’t want to startle her, so I clear my throat before I speak. “Like what you see?”

  Arianna spins around, her mouth going wide with shock as she sees me. “Y–you have a beautiful place.”

  I cross the heavily carpeted floor of the living room, nothing in my vision but her. “It’s nothing compared to the sight before me right this instant.”

  She recovers quickly from the surprise of my arrival, heat in her eyes as she traces my body the same way I’m looking her up and down. “You like the outfit?” she asks breathily. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s playing the part of the sultry vixen or because she’s turned on at seeing me. I hope it’s the latter. I don’t want some faux version of what Arianna thinks is sexy tonight. I want her, real and authentic, and perfectly who she is. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Her robe is slightly open in front, and I can see just how daring her outfit is . . . and there’s nothing but pure honesty in my voice when I reply. “I fucking love it.”

  She reaches out toward me, and I take her hand, leading her in a slow spin so I can see her from every angle. When she’s facing me again, she looks up. “You look dark and handsome. Maybe a little dangerous.”

  I grin ferally. “You have no idea how dangerous I am, doll. But I’m going to show you.” I reach down to grab the tie holding her robe closed, slowly pulling the bow undone like she’s a gift. A present just for me. Her robe falls open, and I memorize every inch of the pretty picture she paints before me, dark waves of her hair swept over one shoulder, white robe framing her luscious curves, tits high on her chest in white lacy cups that let her rosy nipples peek through, and her pretty pussy hidden behind a scrap of white lace. She’s angelic, pure . . . and she’s going to give that to me. She’ll be mine to spoil . . . but not ruin.

  I pull her flush against my body, allowing her to feel what she does to me. Our bodies feel like they’re merging, and I grind against her. “Fuck, Arianna. You have no idea what you do to me, doll.”

  “Pretty sure I can feel exactly what you think of me,” Arianna says lightly as I let go of her belt to slide her robe off her shoulders. It puddles at her feet the same way my body is threatening to do.

  Not yet. Instead, I run my fingers along the edges of her lace cups, tracing up her neck to run my thumb across her lips, which she kisses gently. I growl, cupping her head and entwining my fingers in her hair.

  Unable to resist a moment longer, I take her mouth in a kiss, devouring her while wishing I could be soft and slow. But we’ve been working each other up all week and my restraint is woefully weak now that she’s here and so willing.

  She kisses me back, and I let my hand drop to her ass, squeezing a handful tightly and rubbing against her. My cock begs to be set free from the confines of my slacks, to gain access to her sweet innocence, so close but yet so far away.

  Ari moans, and I try to guide her back toward the couch, but she resists my steps a little, putting her hands on my chest but not pushing me away. “Slow down, Liam. I . . .”

  I gaze into her eyes, seeing the lust burning bright there. I know she wants me, wants this just as desperately as I do. “Doll, we’ve been waiting, slowly driving each other mad with touches here and rubs there. You had my cock down your throat just yesterday, and I know that hot little pussy is weeping with the need to come. Isn’t it, Ari? Are you wet for me, ready to be stuffed full of my cock, to ride me until you come and coat me in your sweetness?” One thing I’ve learned this week is that Ari likes it when I talk dirty to her, damn-near comes from the filthy words alone without a touch, so I’m expecting her to shudder with need like usual.

  What I’m not expecting are the words she whispers. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  Arianna

  My words hang between us, and I wait for Liam to react.

  I expect him to get angry, to at least get annoyed.

  After all, we have been building anticipation for this event for an entire week, a build-up I’ve been actively participating in, only to kill his hopes within the first thirty seconds. I mean, of course, he expected it to happen tonight. I’ve led him to believe that for most of the week, even as my emotions went back and forth. Hell, I came here tonight thinking it was The Night myself.

  But he just stares at me for a long moment before throwing back his head and chuckling. “Are you serious?” he asks in that deep, sexy growl.

  I nod, facing him with as much strength as my five-foot-four-and-three-quarters-inches can muster. “I’m not giving you my virginity. Not today, maybe not ever. I just don’t know . . .” my voice trails off.

  There’s a flash of frustration, but he studies me with sparkling amusement in his eyes. I’m reminded of the way he examined the room at the photoshoot when we first met, as if he’s above everything that’s happening around him. “You’re nervous. That’s understandable, doll. But I’m not pressuring you here. If you want to, I’m damn sure ready to fuck you all weekend long. If not, we can sit and” —he looks around the room— “watch tv or something.”

  Though I know he doesn’t actually want to watch television with me w
hile I’m barely half-dressed, the thought that he actually would is comforting on some level. It makes me feel like I’m calling the shots, or at least a fraction of them. “I’m not nervous, Liam. I’m fucking terrified. I thought I could do this, that I was ready. But standing here in your fucking mansion, after being driven over by your house manager who’s probably dropped off all your women for a weekend of fun, it just hit me how crazy this is. How stupid I’m being. The first time is a one-time thing and I want it to be special.”

  “I get that, Arianna. Don’t you think I want—”

  But my nerves are gaining momentum, letting my mouth run away with truths I’d probably be better served to not share. “A lowly college intern and the bigshot CEO? I mean, that’s a joke. I’d be the joke. Again.” The thought drops the wind out of my sails, and I collapse to the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. “This whole . . . whatever this is between us . . . is centered around you wanting one thing from me. It’s a game, and I admit I’ve willingly played. But what happens when the game is over and you’ve gotten your cherry prize? You can have any woman you want. What good is someone like me to you afterward?” I shake my head, a little sad. “I made a promise that I’d save myself for the man that I’d be with forever.”

  Fuck. This is not what I meant to happen. Not at all. I really thought this was going to be sexy, fun, and that I’d leave on Sunday night okay with this whole thing. I try to think back to the things Daisy and I talked about, but I feel weak so I revert to my comfort zone of saying no, even as my body begs me to say yes.

  Liam seems to be in shock at my outburst, like he’s approaching a wild animal who might attack at any given moment, but he still carefully sits down beside me on the couch. “Arianna, at what point did I make you feel like this was a game? Have I chased you? Absolutely. And I think we’ve both enjoyed the back and forth of that.” He eyes me, daring me to disagree, but I can’t because it’s the truth and he knows it. “But it’s not a game to me either. I’m certainly no monk, and far from a virgin, but I can damn sure tell you that I am more interested, more invested in you than I have ever been in some one-off that Randolph drove home the morning after. Women usually just want me for one thing.”

  My eyes flick to his, jealousy flashing hot and acrid through me until he continues. “Not that. My money. But not you. You actually like me for some fucking reason, but you don’t want me because I have money and a position of power. Look, Arianna . . . I don’t know what happens tonight, or tomorrow, or next month, for that matter. What I do know is that I want you, and I want to see where this goes. But I won’t force you into something you’re unsure about. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me.”

  He leans back, and in the depths of his blue eyes, I can see that I’ve hurt him. I didn’t mean to. I spoke what was in my heart, all the fears and doubts I’m feeling right now tangled up with pain from the past. I don’t want to be that girl again, the one people looked at with an ugly sneer and called mean names.

  But I never considered that Liam might have some damage too, that the golden boy big shot might not trust people lightly, might question people’s motives, might feel like people think he’s unworthy. Like I just did.

  He gets up, walking to the window, his back to me. “Why did you come here tonight?”

  I swallow at the words because in my heart, I know why I came, what I planned to happen. “Because I thought . . .” I start, trying to formulate my words. This isn’t how I expected this to go at all, but I get up to walk over to him, forcing myself to look him in the eye. “You have this aura about you that makes me want to please you, but I feel so powerful at the same time. I don’t know how you do that, make me feel weak in the knees but strong in spirit all at once.”

  The room falls silent as Liam takes in everything I’ve said, and I wait for him to tell me to get out.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat and leans closer. “I do. I know how I do that to you. The same way you do it to me. By giving power, by getting power. It’s not an exchange, one-sided and singular. It’s a cycle, symbiotic and never-ending. Perhaps I could give you a lesson?” The question is quiet, dark with meaning, and heavy with intention.

  I can feel that the air in the room is changing, no longer fizzy with my anxiety but foggy with the repressed desire of our time together, as if the pseudo-argument we just had evaporated, though only part of my fears have been allayed. So maybe he’s not after me for a wham-bam-get-out-ma’am fuck, but that doesn’t solve the problem of what people will think.

  But I still ask, “What kind of lesson?” Liam gestures toward the couch. I take his hand and let him lead me over, but we don’t sit.

  “Let me show you,” he says, wicked promise in his voice. I bite my lip, and he spins me in place, pressing my back to his front. I expect him to be rock-hard. I’m barely half-dressed in lingerie, after all. But I find that he’s soft, still thick and large but just as affected by the last few minutes as I am. The uncertainty of what we’re doing together has physically manifested. He presses on my upper back. “Lean over, Arianna.”

  Unsure of why but doing it anyway, my mind races at the dirty position. Yes, part of my brain is rejoicing, yelling at me to spread my legs and invite him in the way I desperately want him to be. But the other part questions . . . Why am I doing this? Why does he have this power over me?

  His hands trace down my back, light fingertips sweeping the silky skin until he reaches the dimples in my back, right above the thong panties I chose to tempt him. But then he moves his hands away, and I feel the loss of contact on a cellular level. I look back over my shoulder, watching as he reaches for his belt. He unbuckles it, slipping it free and then folding it in his hand.

  “What are you doing?” Instead of the challenge I meant to offer, my voice comes out with a pleading tone, like I’m begging for whatever he has in mind.

  He skims the leather end of the belt along the flesh of my ass, feeling like a lover’s caress but with a mental twist that makes me pant a bit.

  “You want to be where I’m at one day, right? Sitting at the head of your own company as the boss?” he asks, quiet and solemn.

  I nod, though I’m not sure what that has to do with what he’s doing to me right now. “I do.”

  “Well, let me give you a physical lesson of what it will be like on the way there.” He looks me dead in the eye, giving me a chance to say no, daring me to say it. But I stay quiet. “I need your answer, doll. Yes or no.”

  I get it, at least a hint of what he’s teaching me, already. He’s the one with the belt, in charge, by all appearances. But I’m the one who grants permission, the one with the true power. He won’t do this unless I allow it. My voice is strong and sure, my nerves now inexplicably silent. “Yes.”

  The first sting of his leather belt on my ass makes me cry out, my fingers digging hard into the back of the sofa. “That’s the first sacrifice,” he says, “when you have to give up that weekend with your friends to work.”

  He continues, never hitting me too hard and moving around on my pinkening flesh, walking that line between pain and pleasure as the heat quickly gathers between my legs. With each lash, he names another sacrifice.

  Smack. “For the lonely night off because your friends have their own lives now that don’t include you.”

  Smack. “For the first time you have to crush the dreams and life of a perfectly fine person, simply because they’re in your way.”

  Smack. “For the moment you realize your “friends” are just your friends because of your money.”

  Smack. “For when you don’t know if you’ll ever find love . . . because you’re unable to just be you and not your fucking money or job.”

  Smack. “For the day you realize you’ll always be alone, high in the penthouse dream of your own making, but alone nonetheless. Always alone, a meaningless footnote in an annual report with no one to share the truly important moments with or to miss you when you’re gone.”
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br />   My pussy is drenched, throbbing, and I’m so turned on from the naughty spanks, but my heart is also being shredded as he teaches me about pain and sacrifice. I love it and hate it at the same time, and as he smacks me for the last time, my chest heaves, my heart breaking for him. It’s obvious this is what he’s had to endure to achieve the success he has. I’ve learned more about him in the last five minutes than I probably have anyone in my life, maybe myself included. It’s raw, real, and painfully honest vulnerability.

  There’s a long pause, and I hear his choppy breath. But then one more . . .

  Smack. “For never being able to trust people . . . not even the one you want to trust most.”

  He drops the belt and steps back, letting me stand up. My ass hurts while my pussy is soaked, and there are tears in my eyes as I stand up and look at him, seeing more than just the sexy CEO, but the real man. He’s panting at the exertion, not from the physical act of spanking but because of the work of sharing such deep truths, painfully ripping them from his heart and giving them to me.

  The cycle’s complete.

  Though he held the belt and I bear the physical marks of that, I hold his heart and he suffers the scars of splitting it wide open for me to learn from.

  Needing to comfort him, though I’m the one with the ass on fire, I reach to cup his face. “Liam . . . I’m sorry.”

  He flinches, shoving my hands away and pacing in front of me. “I don’t need your useless and false platitudes. You think there’s some perfect man, perfect moment, magic waiting to happen to give you this perfect life. It’s a fantasy, a falsehood little girls imagine. I thought you were smarter than that. Life, like business, is seeing what you want and having the guts to work for it, fight for it, claim it.”

  I can see that though he’s talking about my dream of staying a virgin for the right man, his words about letting go of a childhood fantasy are just as directed at himself. Maybe we both need to hear them.