Chapter 5
“She Has A Wicked Tongue.”
The current meeting Ken found himself in was indescribably grueling. Which was strange, because he rarely gave a shit about shooting the breeze with his industry peers under the guise of having a serious business meeting at the region’s biggest conference of the year.
Yet every word coming out of these people’s mouths were like nails on a chalkboard. They had nothing interesting to say. They didn’t inspire him to take action in his own business. He spent more time correcting their misconstrued facts about the current state of the real estate bubble and less time taking notes about new enterprises he may wish to pursue. It didn’t help that everything was couched in empty terms like “synergize.”
Times like these made Ken Andrews go back to fantasizing about what he really wanted to do in the future. If Lois & Bachman think I’m staying with them until retirement, they’re idiots. Ken had dreams. Aspirations. Those dreams and aspirations called him to start his own company and cut out the middle men. The bosses. The higher-ups that told him what to focus on and for how long. He wanted to diversify his properties. There were millions to be made in flipping older properties into new ones. Why wasn’t he spending his precious free time on those pursuits?
Oh, right. Because women.
Hello, Ms. Losers. That was his immediate thought when Lana entered the main reception room and went up to a bedraggled Roger Prescott. She was 100% pleasant while he berated her for being so late. Ah, she’s late because of me. A man had to take pride in that.
Ken’s night with Lana had been a grand success. As much as he wanted her on his roster, he wanted her wrapped around his cock even more. She was so right. They could not work together platonically after what happened the night before. The chemistry had been there. They acted on it. Now it was amplified ten-fold, keeping his eyes locked on her as she briskly walked across the room to join another group of conference goers.
She briefly met his gaze, tucking her long blond curls behind her ear. Her lips were not as prominent today. Didn’t matter. Ken could easily imagine kissing them. He could also imagine tearing that white, green, and blue mosaic dress off Lana’s gorgeous body and having his way with her again. That chair. Right there. Ken had to cross his legs as he let his imagination briefly wander to thoughts of fucking Lana over the back of a large leather chair. He hazarded a guess that she was even tighter in that position.
Damn. She hadn’t lied about that. From the moment he entered her, all he could think about was how great she felt on every inch of his cock.
“Hottest piece of ass in the room, huh, Andrews?”
Caught staring, Ken tore his eyes away from Lana and met Carl Jefferson’s as he sat in the empty leather chair. Carl, with his heavyset build and penchant for young blondes he could pay to be his girlfriends, was undoubtedly having similar thoughts about Lana as Ken was.
And Ken did not consider himself the jealous type. This was a man who was once more than happy to setup a gangbang for his girlfriend of the moment when she shared it was one of her biggest fantasies. Turned out she couldn’t handle the emotional aftermath. “You weren’t even a little jealous? What’s wrong with you?”
So this made no sense. Why would he feel a twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach at the thought of other men wanting Lana like he had her. One night stand, brother. Well, maybe they could do it again, but he was under no delusion it would be anything more than a summer fling. Lana lived in DC. Ken lived in New York. They were both too busy to date under those circumstances, even if they had an open relationship.
An open relationship? Am I nuts? Why did he automatically assume Lana would be up for that? Just because a woman could be as sexually entertaining as she was…
Ken forced himself to focus on Carl. “Excuse me?” he said, pen clicking in his hand.
“That Lana Losers.” He said it like the word losers. It made Ken cringe. There was nothing losery about Lana. Too bad about the last name, though. “She’s the star of the conference, all right. Every heterosexual man in this dump is craving that cunt of hers.”
Jesus, Carl. This was a man with six sexual harassment lawsuits under his belt, so Ken couldn’t be surprised. He would have to be cordial, though. Carl was an old friend of the senior Bachman. “So I guess that leaves her boss Prescott out.”