Mr. CEO(63)

I close my eyes, enjoying her touch. I love this woman so damn much.

I live for her. Only for her.

She pulls away slightly and when I open my eyes, she’s looking up at me through her thick lashes with hope.

I grin at her. “I think we can try.”

“Ah!” Her high-pitched shriek makes me close my eyes. She jumps up and down and wraps her arms around my neck, practically swinging.

I laugh and look down at the beautiful smile on her face.

I’ll do everything I can to make her happy. And if that means we’re going to have a baby, then I’ll be the best father I can. Our children will never go without.

“I love you so much, Logan,” she says before kissing me passionately.

I break our kiss, only to tell her what I’ve said every single day since I first confessed it, “I love you, my Rose.”

Thank you for reading!





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Revenge





By Lauren Landish




Katrina

Revenge never tasted so sweet…



The DeLaCoeur family destroyed mine, and ever since I was a little girl, I vowed I would have my revenge.



Now the time has come, and I've waited my whole life for this. The heir to the family fortune is first on my list. Jackson. It should be easy—he's just a billionaire playboy that's used to women falling at his knees. I'll play along, I'll seduce him, and I'll humiliate him. But the second his warm lips burn into my neck, I fear that I might wind up sleeping with the enemy…



Jackson

She pulled my c*ck out in front of the paparazzi... now it's war.



Katrina Grammercy is after me for a crime I didn't commit. She wants to ruin my reputation—make me pay for my father’s sins.



But she doesn't know who she's f*cking with. In this game, I make the rules. She’ll be just like the rest—one taste of me, and she's done.



She wants revenge?



I'll give her revenge, by owning her sweet, tight little ass.



**Revenge is a full-length romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger!





Book 1 - Revenge.

Book 2 - Retaliation.

Book 3 - Retribution.





Chapter 1





Kat





Red. He likes red. I chose this dress carefully, making sure to pick one that would be both classy and slutty at the same time. The fabric is skintight, and I can't wear anything underneath except for a G-string. I can't even wear a bra, and he'll notice for sure. Jackson always notices a woman's breasts. Mine aren't the biggest, but that's okay. He has a thing for nipples, and I've been told mine are perfect.

Next come the silk thigh highs. The dress has a slit that goes almost all the way up my right leg, revealing a lot of thigh. He'll notice the lace top, and the fact that I'm wearing something other than pantyhose will draw his attention. I put less care into selecting the heels I'll be wearing. We'll be in a car for most of what I have planned for him, so they're what I'd consider reasonable. They're just meant to draw attention to my calves, so they're only three inch heels. I like my calves. They're pure muscle, and extremely defined from all the training I do.

Now is the hard part, the wig. I don't want Jackson recognizing who I am at first, so securing my naturally brown hair underneath this platinum blonde wig is vital. I want this hair to look like it really belongs to me. It's why I spent nearly as much money on the wig as I did on the dress, and I've practiced multiple times with the spirit gum to make sure it all looks natural. My eyes... well, blue eyes go with blonde hair all the time, but the false eyelashes I'm wearing can partially hide my eye color for a while. A little bit of makeup will help soften my jawline. I've increased my food intake over the past few days, trying to add a little bit of body fat—at least enough that you can't see my jaw muscles flexing when I chew. I don't give a shit, since I like my body the way it is, but Jackson likes women with a little more meat on their bones. I'm glad at least I keep my hair short, not quite butch short, but it's still considered short for a woman. I don't have time to deal with that shit... I've got other issues to deal with besides worrying about my looks.

Okay. Dress, stockings, shoes by the door, hair... check. As for makeup, I'm going with sultry and dark eye makeup to help my eyes look larger, more doe-eyed. I made sure to spend extra time on my eyeliner, because when I make my big reveal, I want Jackson to know exactly who I am as he stares into my eyes. And I know he remembers my eyes. The lipstick I'm wearing matches my dress, and makes my lips look plump and pouty. Everything I'm wearing practically screams, 'Fuck me, Jackson DeLaCoeur!'.

I look at myself critically in the mirror. The woman staring back at me isn't Katrina Grammercy, the twenty-two-year-old orphan whose parents were ripped from her by a car bomb a decade ago. She isn't the Katrina Grammercy who did nothing but sob for weeks, living in a haze for months. That woman never heard the rumors, never had to learn that her best friend's father, Peter DeLaCoeur, had orchestrated the whole thing. I stare at my reflection, and I don't see any traces of the woman who swore vengeance on the DeLaCoeurs, the woman who no longer goes by Katrina, just Kat.