HIS VIRGIN GIRL

Long day

Elara’s POV

The library felt both like heaven and hell.

I tried to focus on the task in front of me carefully cataloging a stack of 19th-century first editions but my body refused to cooperate. Every movement reminded me of how wet and empty I felt. Alexander’s fingers had left me aching, hovering right on the edge without letting me fall.

I kept pressing my thighs together under the short skirt, but it only made things worse the cool air kept brushing against my bare p***y, a constant teasing reminder that I was completely exposed beneath the fabric.

Why does this turn me on so much? I thought, cheeks burning.

I had always been the responsible one. The girl who studied hard, worked hard, and kept her virginity because I wanted it to mean something. Yet here I was less than twenty-four hours in Alexander Stone’s house dripping wet because a dangerous, powerful man had fingered me while making me read erotica aloud.

The worst part? I wanted more.

The library doors opened sometime in the late morning. Alexander stepped inside, looking unfairly composed in his tailored black shirt. His eyes immediately found me at the desk.

“How is the work coming?” he asked, voice smooth.

“Fine,” I said, my voice slightly breathy. “Some of these books are incredible.”

He walked over slowly, stopping behind my chair. I could feel the heat of his body. He leaned down, one hand resting on the desk beside me, caging me in.

“Are you still wet, Elara?” he murmured against my ear.

I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of my neck. “Stand up.”

I obeyed. He turned me to face him, then lifted me effortlessly onto the edge of the large oak desk. My skirt rode up as he stepped between my spread thighs.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I met his intense gray eyes. He slid his hand under my skirt again, two thick fingers sliding easily through my soaked folds. I gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“So f*****g wet,” he growled. “Your little virgin cunt is dripping for me.”

He pumped his fingers slowly, curling them against that perfect spot inside me. I moaned, hips rocking against his hand. He brought me right to the edge again so close I could almost taste it then stopped and withdrew his fingers completely.

I whimpered in frustration.

“Not yet,” he said, bringing his glistening fingers to my mouth. I sucked them clean without being told, tasting myself on his skin. His eyes darkened with approval.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised. “Keep working. I’ll be back later.”

Then he left me there flushed, desperate, and throbbing.

The rest of the day was pure torture.

Every time I stood to reach a higher shelf, the skirt teased my sensitive skin. Every time I sat down, I felt how slick I was. My n*****s stayed hard against the thin blouse. I was a mess of need, and Alexander knew it.

He checked on me twice more.

The second time, he made me read another explicit passage aloud while he played with my breasts through the blouse, pinching my n*****s until I was shaking. He still wouldn’t let me come.

By late afternoon, I was desperate. My hands trembled as I tried to focus on cataloging. My mind kept drifting to fantasies of him bending me over this desk and finally taking me.

When the library doors opened again near sunset, I nearly moaned with relief.

Alexander stood there, eyes sweeping over my flushed face and restless body.

“Come here,” he commanded.

I walked to him on shaky legs. He cupped my chin and studied me.

“You’ve been such a good girl today,” he said softly. “Tonight, I’ll reward you. But first, dinner. Then you’ll read to me again… and this time, I’ll let you come.”

The promise sent fresh heat rushing through me.

As he led me out of the library with a possessive hand on my lower back, I realized something dangerous:

I was no longer just surviving in his world.

I was starting to crave it.

And the scariest part was how little that scared me anymore.