“I can only hope to have such a grand marriage as you two have.” Monica’s smile was genuine, although still demure as was her nature. “You’re practically legends.”
Neither of them pressed for a reason. Having someone young and nubile like Grace feel them up while they spoke was enough reason on display.
“Thank you,” Ken finally said. “No marriage is perfect or easy, but Lana and I make it work.” His hand curled over her crossed knee. “I can’t imagine having anyone else by my side.”
Those words would usually make her blush more, but Lana suddenly entered a moment of self-doubt. Those sound like stock words, Kenneth. Did her husband hide those kinds of words up his sleeve to use when it was best? Like now? There was a reason some people in the real estate world called him Silver Tongue Andrew. He knew how to charm the pants off a snake. He’s charmed mine off enough times by now.
Monica couldn’t spend much more time with them, not with a busy business bustling with life that night. After she paid her respects and whispered something curt in Grace’s ear, Monica saw herself out.
“And how are you, Kitten?” Ken asked, turning every ounce of attention to the mistress. “It’s unfortunately been a couple of weeks since we last chatted.”
Grace wrapped her arms around his shoulders and bent down low to his ear. Yet she spoke loud enough for Lana to hear as well. “Anything that may have been bothering me is now nothing, sir. A visit from you and your lovely wife is all I need to feel better.”
“And the other men you’ve fucked in our absence?”
Lana could never help herself.
Grace stood up, unfazed. She was probably used to Lana’s inquisitions by now. “None of them compare to Mr. Andrews, ma’am.”
Liar. Grace slept with a good number of men. Even if not now, at least through her life. So for her to pretend that Ken was the best dick of her life was more than absurd. I’ll take her saying I’m the best woman, though.
Yet Ken was placated, his male ego stroked as well as his cock usually was. “You’re always so crude, Lana,” he gently reprimanded. “If I don’t mind other men touching our Kitten, then you shouldn’t either.”
“Who said I minded? It’s your dick, dear.”
His hand tightened on her knee. “Lana.”
“What?” She feigned ignorance with the best of them. “It’s the 21st century. Who said a woman had to be confined to one cock? Or a man to one pussy, for that matter?”
“Nobody. You’re the one inferring things.”
Lana closed her lips before they had an altercation in front of the mistress. That didn’t mean Ken won the argument, though.
“Bunny,” her husband said, growling into her ear while Grace looked on. “You’re tense. Luckily you’re in the perfect place for releasing those urges you’re holding in.” He leaned back again. “What will make you feel good, my love? You’ve got your pick tonight.”
“I do, don’t I?” Lana glanced at Grace, who waited expectantly for an order. “Get over here, Kitty. I want to pet you.”
Only Lana could make a phrase like that not sound cheesy and lame, as evident when Grace responded with alacrity. She stood in front of Lana, hands folded in front of her as she tried to contain a smile. A liar would say she doesn’t like spending time with us. Grace didn’t put up with their whims and demands simply because of the money. Lana guessed the mistress hadn’t faked an orgasm since they started this mutually beneficial relationship almost a year ago.
“Kneel.”
Lana sat up straight while Grace obeyed and Ken looked on, hand still on his wife’s knee. “I knew you were in that sort of mood tonight,” he murmured into her ear. “I had hoped.”
I know. Ken, like his wife, was a switch. One of the only male switches Lana knew, let alone one of the only male switches who encouraged his partner to be as domineering as possible. That’s one of the things I love about him. Not ashamed. Never embarrassed. Ken loved exploring even the strangest kinks, even if he decided he didn’t like them afterward. Even on the rare occasion something flubbed during sex, like coming too soon, going flaccid for no reason, or saying something to kill the mood indefinitely, Ken didn’t let it get to him. It probably helped that his wife didn’t care either. Men go soft. They come. They say stupid shit thinking it’s sexy when in reality you want to kill them for saying it.