Mr. CEO
Lauren Landish
Willow Winters
Photography by
Allan Spiers
Contents
Mr. CEO
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Revenge
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
About Lauren & Willow
Copyright © 2016 by Lauren Landish & Willow Winters.
All rights reserved.
Cover design © 2016 by Supahkawaii Covers.
Photography by Allan Spiers.
Cover Model: Mario Hervas.
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 non-blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.
Mr. CEO
By Lauren Landish & Willow Winters
I’m used to getting what I want. But I’ve never wanted anyone like her.
I’m the CEO. I dominate the boardroom with my presence. What I want, I get.
I have the world at my beck and call. But that no longer excites me. Nothing does.
Until she comes along. My Rose.
Her deep blue eyes. Her tempting curves. They call to me, holding my attention like nothing has in years.
I should walk away, but the soft sighs spilling from her plump lips are addictive. Even more, I want to force them from her lips myself.
I’ve never felt such desire. I’ve never wanted like this. Even though I know I shouldn’t.
There’s a reason I keep everyone away, and I need to remember that. But now that I have her in my grasp, I won’t let her go.
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Prologue
Logan
She thinks I don’t know what she’s been doing.
My Rose.
She’s been teasing me. Taunting me with those swaying hips and short skirts. Making my dick so hard it fucking hurts.
“Bend over.” I give her the simple command and hold her heated gaze. She’s a rebel at heart. She has no reason to obey me unless she wants to. And I fucking know she wants to. She wants me, just as much as I want her.
Her lips pull into a sexy smirk as her hands slowly fall onto the desk and she spreads her legs slightly before bending over. My dick instantly hardens in my pants. She looks over her shoulder at me with nothing but lust on her face.
“Like this?” she asks in a soft sweet voice, feigning innocence. She’s not innocent at all. She practically begged for this.
Her skirt’s slipped up past her upper thighs, and I can see her garter belt and the beautiful curve of her ass. I lower myself to the floor behind her. That’s what she does to me. She makes me fall to my knees.
“Just like that,” I murmur as I gentle my hands on her thighs.
I inch my fingers up, playing with the thin black straps. The tips of my fingers trace along her creamy thighs, leaving goosebumps in their path.
I lightly brush my hands along her panty line and I’m rewarded with a soft moan spilling from her plump lips. “You like that, Rose?” I ask her as I hook my fingers into the waistband of her lace thong.
I keep my eyes on hers as I slowly pull the skimpy lace thong down to the floor. Her mouth parts slightly and her eyes widen, but she doesn’t stop me. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t give in to the temptation and make this more complicated. But I’m a selfish man, and I want her.
I repress a groan as she slowly steps out of her thong and widens her stance for me.
“Yes, sir,” she breathes out in a voice laced with desire, “I do.” I can’t help the asymmetric grin that pulls at my lips. I splay my hand on her lower back, just above those cute little dimples and push her down.
She's spread and fully bared to me, glistening with arousal.
“I wanna taste you,” I say against her hot pussy before taking a languid lick. Her legs tremble in her high-as-fuck black leather heels and for a second I worry she won’t be able to maintain her balance in them. But I wanna fuck her in them. Just like this, this is exactly how I want her. I’ve dreamed of this every day since the first day I laid eyes on her.
I need to get her good and ready for me.
I take my time forcing those sounds of pleasure from her lips. I lick my lips and groan at her sweet taste before flicking my tongue against her throbbing clit. Her back tries to arch off the desk, but I hold her down.
She’s going to give me every fantasy I’ve ever dreamed of. I can’t tell her the truth about me, and I know I shouldn’t bring her into this, but her taste on my tongue and the soft sounds that spill from her gorgeous lips make me weak.
She moans my name, and it’s my undoing.
I can’t take it anymore. I stand and quickly unbutton my pants, shoving them down as quickly as I can. She turns her head to watch as she waits patiently, remaining in the position I left her in.
I kick my pants off carelessly with my eyes on hers and stand behind her with my hands gripping her hips. Her eyes are clouded with lust. Not the fear that used to be there. She trusts me. She wants me, and nothing’s holding her back now. If only she knew the truth. I can never give her what she needs.
I know I’m selfish, but I’m taking her.
Chapter 1
Logan
The ice in the cognac glass clinks as the bartender sets it in front of me on the s
mall white cocktail napkin. I give him a small nod and return my attention to the tablet in my hand. I’m not going to drink the whiskey I ordered. I’m not going to talk to anyone in here, although I’m sure a few business men will approach me. I’m simply waiting for my associate, Trent Morgan.
He’s much more… sociable than I am. I prefer solitude. I do my best work in my office. And if it were any other day, that’s where we’d be. On the top floor of the high-rise that encompasses the success of my company, Parker-Moore Enterprise. From the outside, the sixty-four story building looks as though it’s one sheet of mirrored glass with symmetrical beveled lines that separate the floors.
I inherited the business, but the building is all mine. The idea and the structure. I get the credit for that. The massive influx of clients and profits, they’re all me, too.
And I didn’t get there by holding meetings at a bar in the Madison Hotel.
Dozens of men and women are lingering around me. Some at the high top tables near the large floor-to-ceiling windows that look over the edge and onto the crystal clear harbor below. It’s breathtaking, and at one point in my life I may have enjoyed this room, but right now I’m irritated.
I look back to my tablet, to the one thing I have a vested interest in, my work, and ignore the hum of small talk and the faint sounds of laughter from the other side of the room. There are two companies I’m interested in. They’re the reason I’m sitting here. On paper, they’re nearly identical. I want to see the people. They'll tell me which of the two is worth investing in. People run a business, and if I can’t have faith in the men and women heading the company, then I have no interest in investing.
I glance up as a small, delicate hand gently brushes my forearm. Her thin fingers and glossy red nail polish make her hand look extra dainty resting easily on my dark grey custom-tailored Armani suit. I clear my throat and turn my head slightly to look at the woman who takes a graceful seat on the barstool next to me.
It takes great effort not to stare at the cleavage she’s obviously put on display. Her form-fitting black dress has a plunging neckline, with a sharp “V” that travels too far down to be professional.
She practically purrs, “I was hoping you’d buy me a drink.”
I huff a small laugh and smirk at her. That’s a cheeky come-on I wasn’t expecting and I can appreciate her charm; the drinks are free for the conference. And I can tell from the soft blush across her cheeks and the sweet grin on her lips that she already knows that.
She’s beautiful and refined. Her confidence is alluring, but it does nothing for me.
“I’m waiting on a colleague.” I’m short in my response for a reason. I don’t want to open doors for discussion.
If we’d met in this scenario three years ago, things would be different. I’d have taken her upstairs to my bed in the penthouse suite and given her what she’s looking for. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I would’ve satisfied the both of us and moved on to the next sweet little thing looking to sink her claws into a wealthy man.
Things change. People change.
I have no room in my life for complications anymore. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I lead a private life for good reason. And if my parents' failed marriage and brutal divorce taught me anything, it’s that I should never trust anyone. And I can’t afford to let anyone in. Not now. Not ever.
The little minx gives me a tight smile and gathers her clutch in a white-knuckled fist before sliding off the barstool. I don’t mind her disgruntled departure. I’m used to it, and I prefer it that way. I could apologize for being blunt and to the point, but I’m not sorry. And I don’t make apologies.
There are only two people in this world I’m close to. My father, and the man who just walked into the room, Trent Morgan. He cocks a brow and watches the woman pull her dress down a bit more as she gives me the cold shoulder and stalks off without a word.
A sly grin forms on his cleanly shaven face as he takes her seat and looks at me. “Already pissing people off. You couldn’t wait for me to start the party, could you?”
I let out a deep rough chuckle. I’ve always liked Trent. He’s nearly a decade older than me as he approaches forty, but we’ve gotten along since day one. Which isn’t the case for most Parker-Moore executives.
I’ve always taken this business seriously. After seeing my mother shred my father after his stroke and try to steal the business out from under him, I knew anyone and everyone who thought they could try to take it from me would. And I was ready for them.
I’m not sure if Trent liked the fact that I was ruthless in business and didn’t trust anyone even at such a young age, or if he was just relieved that his new twenty-two-year-old boss wasn’t some spoiled brat who didn’t give a fuck about the business he’d just inherited.
But seven years later, he’s my closest ally. He’s my only ally.
He signals to the bartender for a drink before looking down the bar at mine. “I’ll take care of that for you,” he says as he picks up the glass. The napkin sticks to the bottom as he brings it to his lips and downs the drink in a single swig.
“Stressed?” I ask him with a cocky grin.
“I am,” he answers without looking at me. I know why he’s anxious, I’m just waiting for him to say it. He smiles at the bartender as he orders another Jack on ice. I got him hooked on my drink of choice. He turns to face me before he says, “We need to choose, and neither of them look like they can handle our influx.”
He has a right to be upset. We bit off more than we can chew. We have the manufacturing capabilities, but the sales just aren’t there. Hiring out isn’t paying off like it should. “Our profits are shit for the retail division,” Trent says, accepting his drink and taking a modest sip.
“I’m aware,” I say and nod, rapping my knuckles on the bar, “and that’s a fixable problem.”
He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re more laidback about this than you should be.”
I shrug. I may be a little less stressed than normal over this, but it’s because this has happened before. “For every problem, there’s a solution,” I say easily.
“I imagine that means you got good news on Thursday?” he asks. My body tenses, and I don’t answer. Instead I face the bartender and wait for him to make eye contact with me.
I’m vaguely aware of Trent apologizing to me as I’m distracted, hearing a small feminine voice to my left. It catches me off guard for some reason, and I turn and see a beautiful short woman with sun-kissed skin and gorgeous blonde hair talking to the bartender.
She gives the the man a small smile, but it’s merely to be polite. Her brilliant blue eyes are dimmed by something. In a room full of people, she stands out. She’s like me in that she doesn’t belong here. But I’m not sure why.
I watch her body language and see how closed off she is. She’s uncomfortable. A small sigh leaves her plush lips as she sits back at the bar with her eyes closed. The sight makes my dick instantly harden. She looks vulnerable and beautiful. She looks tempting in so many ways.
The sound of her giving in, that soft sigh--I want that. I want to hear it again and again. Even more than that though, I want to force those sounds from her lips myself.
Chapter 2
Charlotte
Your shit better be gone by the time I’m back!
My last words to my ex run through my mind as I step into the Madison Hotel bar. I stop for a moment to address my outfit, a black pencil skirt with a shiny belt wrapped around my waist, giving my figure a shapely appearance, and a pearly white blouse. I scan the room, noting it’s filled to the brim with business people, and wonder if I should head back out into the lobby to collect myself. This is a business convention and I need to be on my A game. But I didn’t come down to the bar for business.
I’m supposed to be focused on this presentation and making contacts, but all I can think about is what happened. What they did to me.
Even now the pain is razor sharp,
cutting me deep.
I turn to leave the bar, but then stop.
I can’t go back, I tell myself. I refuse to go back to crying over people who aren’t worth an ounce of my time.
It’s easy to tell myself this, but harder to put it in action. The betrayal has been a difficult thing to swallow. Especially considering the source of my agony.
Sarah was once a good friend to me, a co-worker and confidante that I thought had my best interests at heart. Turns out her only interest was getting my boyfriend's cock out of his boxers and into her lying mouth.
Ian’s infidelity had been bad enough, but Sarah’s disloyalty was deeply personal. I’d trusted her, and with everything. The way she played up to me all that time, giving me advice on everything from my hair, makeup, outfits and my relationship with Ian, only to stab me in the back when the first opportunity arrived--makes my blood fucking boil.
Screw her, I think to myself angrily. And screw him. They both deserve each other. I’m here now, and it’s time to move on with my life. The wounds are only a little over a week old, but I’m tired of wallowing in grief. It’s useless. And I can’t let anything ruin this job for me. I couldn’t stand being near that bitch so I left in the heat of the moment. Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But I still managed to get a good recommendation and land this job quickly. Thankfully.
Deciding it’s time to drink my worries away, I head over to the bar. The clicking of my heels from the hallway is muted by the thin carpet in the lounge area. I grab an end seat in a leather wingback chair, loving the open yet cozy vibe of the room and signal the bartender, a young blond man dressed in a black tux; he’s quick to make his way over.
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