Ken&Anne4ever
sarNie Egg
This story is rated M, so 18 and over please
Ken POV
"Jesus, Ken, just fuck me!"
I hated that whiny voice, but Ploy was always on tap when I needed to get rid of some tension. Today I definitely needed the release, because I had finally seen her. The brunette. My brunette.
"Ken, stop chewing on my fucking neck and screw me!"
I gritted my teeth, as I rammed her into the wall of my office, pulling her skirt up, and gripping her thighs harshly around my hips.
"Shut up, Ploy."
I just wanted sex. She always opened her mouth during our office quickies, and it irritated me. I briefly considered putting something hard in there to keep it busy, but she moved her ass down, and finally impaled herself on my cock. I groaned; Ploy was every man's wet dream, because she never wore panties.
Ungh!
"Ken..."
I put my palm across her mouth, and rammed further into her.
She bit me. Bitch. I began pumping into her so hard and fast, that she quickly let go.
I closed my eyes, and imagined my beautiful brunette; huge brown eyes, petal pink lips, and those cute blushing cheeks. I have never fantasized about a woman while having sex with another, if I wanted them, I would have them. I wasn't arrogant, I just knew I could.
She was different, but I couldn't have her, ever. So, right now, Ploy would do for venting my frustration; Ploy would always do, because my P.A. never said no.
I kept my hand across her lips, as I drilled myself into her.
She was so wet, that I slid in and out of her with ease, and I couldn't help but groan loudly. Ploy liked it rough and quick, so that's what I would give her.
All too quickly, I began to feel her tighten around my cock, and I thrust so hard her head banged harshly against the wall.
She only moaned louder, wanting more.
I pictured her, as my balls began to tighten, and I felt my stomach start to spasm. Just as my cock began to pulse with my orgasm, Ploy started thrashing around with hers. She looked repulsive when she came, and the screeching was just too much.
If I wasn't already emptying myself into her at that point, my dick would have shriveled up in a stunned retreat.
The last of my cum seeped out of my cock, and I immediately withdrew, setting her on her feet. I removed the condom, placed myself back into my trousers, and zipped the fly.
Ploy began smoothing her skirt. Some men would find her attractive, all blonde and boobs, but after seeing my brunette, she just didn't do anything for me. I no longer liked blondes.
"Get yourself cleaned up and be back here in twenty minutes, we have a meeting." I barked out. "I will take my coffee black this morning."
She looked a little stunned at my abruptness. We never kissed and cuddled; our relationship was just not like that, but I was never quite so dismissive. She took the hint though, and after straightening her clothes she left, closing the door behind her.
I wasn't without feelings, but right now all I could do was think of her. An odd sensation of guilt settled over me. It was as if I had betrayed my petite brunette. I shook my head.
Fucking stupid Theerade!
I sat behind my desk and picked up her application. I had kept this particular one to myself for two weeks now. I usually let Ploy handle the applicants to the retreat; only really dealing with the final decision, but as soon as I had seen her stunning sketches I couldn't put the file back down. I wanted this woman at The Diary.
The drawings were nothing more than charcoal on paper, but they were awe inspiring, and a talent like hers was the reason my mother had started The Diary. She had taken the name from a quote by Pablo Picasso. Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.
My mother would be proud of her little dream. The retreat had become so popular that we now had to set limits, and only eight people got to stay there every six months. They could hone their skills, whether it was writing, painting or sculpting, all on the Theerade's money, and afterward we would help network their art. A great many had become famous after staying there, and that was why we had started the application process a few years back. Ploy would sift through all the forms and offer me a handful to choose from.
The day hers had landed on my desk, was a day I will never forget. I had wanted to seek her out. I wanted to know more than her basic statistic's, although they had been an interesting read.
She had lived in Chon Buri all her life, her father was the Police Chief, and her mother a Kindergarten teacher. She had lived a very ordinary, very mundane existence and moving here, to Bangkok had been a way of proving her independence. She wrote a little, but her passion was art, attached to her application were several sketches, and a few photographs of larger acrylic paintings. They had my complete attention from the moment I looked at them. I was caught up in the swirling mass of colors and textures.
The most interesting part of all was that she had not submitted the application. A man named Pong Nawat had done that for her.
Ploy had been about to shred it, saying if she couldn't apply for the place herself, then she must not be very interested in what the Retreat could mean for her future. I had taken it from her, stating I would deal with it.
Here I was, two weeks down the line, and obsessed with a pretty little waitress from a rundown diner. So obsessed, that I had gone to that diner this morning, just to look at her. I had bought a disgusting sludgy black coffee, sat at the sticky plastic table, and tortured myself by drinking the disgusting mess, just so I could watch her.
I felt like a fucking stalker. I probably looked like one too, but she stunned me. I wanted to know more about this woman, much more than what was on a flimsy piece of paper.
Why didn't she apply to The Diary herself, and who the hell was this Pong Nawat guy? What was her favorites color? What was she reading right now? Did she wear thongs?
I would find out the answers, because she was coming to the retreat, my retreat, and I would get to know the woman that was turning me into a sap. I fawned after no one, and it irritated the hell out of me that she could have this effect after just one look. The woman hadn't even spoken to me; I had ordered the shit (I refused to acknowledge it was coffee) from a guy whose tag said Mark. I had just watched her. Her hips were swaying, as she delivered the food to tables, and giggling with the patrons.
I seriously considered whether I should accept her application, mainly because by that point, I had been pitching a tent in my trousers. If this was the effect she had on me now, what would happen when I did speak to her?
The intercom buzzed, and Ploy's sultry tone filled my office.
"Ke...sorry, Mr. Theerade, would you like your coffee now?"
One thing I liked about Ploy was her ability to compartmentalize. When we were screwing it was Ken; for work it was Mr. Theerade. You have to love a woman that could do that.
"No Ploy, please meet me in Conference Room 3. I will have my coffee there, ready for the meeting with Johnny. Thank you."
I stood, bringing the file with me, and walked out of my office.
It had gone well, Johnny was in complete agreement. My brunette should go to the retreat; she had a lot of promise. I just don't think Johnny meant the kind of promise I did, but that was another matter entirely. He said he could teach her plenty, and expand on the talent she already possessed. Again, my train of thought was somewhere else entirely. All I had to do was make the call, and tell her she had been accepted.
I sat staring at the phone, holding her contact details between my fingers. I wondered how she was going to react. Did she even know this Pong guy had applied? I inhaled deeply and dialed her number.
"Hello, Mark's Diner." I couldn't decide whether the voice was male or female.
"Hello. Could I please speak to Annabelle Thongprasom?"
Whoever answered didn't respond, just sighed into the phone heavily.
"Annabelle? We don't have...Oh! You mean Anne? One minute."
I heard the phone clunk. What? Anne? I had no idea. The application stated Annabelle, but it was perfectly reasonable for her to shorten it to Anne. I fleetingly hoped I had the right woman after all this, but then I heard her voice. So sweet, so cute, so damn sexy.
"Hey?"
"Erm...is this Annabelle Thongprasom?" I held my breath, silently chanting for her to confirm it.
"Yes, who's this?" she said sweetly.
"Miss Thongprasom, I'm Ken Theerade. We received your application for The Diary artist retreat, and I wanted to advise you that you have been accepted. Congratulations."
She didn't answer. All I could hear was the banging and chatter of the diners in the background. This did not look good. I started to wonder what I would do if she declined my offer. I was losing my edge over this damned woman, and I had no clue why she was getting to me in this way.
"I didn't apply to any retreat. I think you have the wrong person. I have to get back to work."
"No...no don't hang up!" I sounded desperate, even to myself.
Get a grip Theerade!
"I know you didn't. The application came from a Pong Nawat."
"Motherfucker!" she spat down the phone. This was definitely the correct person. I was even more turned on by her now. She had a very dirty mouth, and my mind raced with the things I wanted her to do with it.
"Miss Thongprasom?"
"Look, I know all about your retreat, and really I'm not interested. Pong should never have done it. I'm sorry to have wasted your time."
No! She could not say no! I would not let her. I was getting her to Mount Rainer, even if I had to kidnap her. What the hell was happening to me?
"Miss Thongprasom, do you understand what a privilege it is to be accepted into The Diary?" I was blunt now; I needed to keep my facade.
She totted down at the phone; fucking totted at me, Ken Theerade!
"I know what it is, and to be honest, Mr. Theerade, I'm not interested in my art being hung from some corporate asshole's wall."
Well, fuck, what was I supposed to say to that?
This woman was making me crazy.
"Miss Thongprasom, I think..." but there was no point, she had put the phone down, disconnecting us.
I threw my receiver across the office and snarled. I was going to get Annabelle Thongprasom to The Diary come hell or high water. That woman was mine!
Ken POV
"Jesus, Ken, just fuck me!"
I hated that whiny voice, but Ploy was always on tap when I needed to get rid of some tension. Today I definitely needed the release, because I had finally seen her. The brunette. My brunette.
"Ken, stop chewing on my fucking neck and screw me!"
I gritted my teeth, as I rammed her into the wall of my office, pulling her skirt up, and gripping her thighs harshly around my hips.
"Shut up, Ploy."
I just wanted sex. She always opened her mouth during our office quickies, and it irritated me. I briefly considered putting something hard in there to keep it busy, but she moved her ass down, and finally impaled herself on my cock. I groaned; Ploy was every man's wet dream, because she never wore panties.
Ungh!
"Ken..."
I put my palm across her mouth, and rammed further into her.
She bit me. Bitch. I began pumping into her so hard and fast, that she quickly let go.
I closed my eyes, and imagined my beautiful brunette; huge brown eyes, petal pink lips, and those cute blushing cheeks. I have never fantasized about a woman while having sex with another, if I wanted them, I would have them. I wasn't arrogant, I just knew I could.
She was different, but I couldn't have her, ever. So, right now, Ploy would do for venting my frustration; Ploy would always do, because my P.A. never said no.
I kept my hand across her lips, as I drilled myself into her.
She was so wet, that I slid in and out of her with ease, and I couldn't help but groan loudly. Ploy liked it rough and quick, so that's what I would give her.
All too quickly, I began to feel her tighten around my cock, and I thrust so hard her head banged harshly against the wall.
She only moaned louder, wanting more.
I pictured her, as my balls began to tighten, and I felt my stomach start to spasm. Just as my cock began to pulse with my orgasm, Ploy started thrashing around with hers. She looked repulsive when she came, and the screeching was just too much.
If I wasn't already emptying myself into her at that point, my dick would have shriveled up in a stunned retreat.
The last of my cum seeped out of my cock, and I immediately withdrew, setting her on her feet. I removed the condom, placed myself back into my trousers, and zipped the fly.
Ploy began smoothing her skirt. Some men would find her attractive, all blonde and boobs, but after seeing my brunette, she just didn't do anything for me. I no longer liked blondes.
"Get yourself cleaned up and be back here in twenty minutes, we have a meeting." I barked out. "I will take my coffee black this morning."
She looked a little stunned at my abruptness. We never kissed and cuddled; our relationship was just not like that, but I was never quite so dismissive. She took the hint though, and after straightening her clothes she left, closing the door behind her.
I wasn't without feelings, but right now all I could do was think of her. An odd sensation of guilt settled over me. It was as if I had betrayed my petite brunette. I shook my head.
Fucking stupid Theerade!
I sat behind my desk and picked up her application. I had kept this particular one to myself for two weeks now. I usually let Ploy handle the applicants to the retreat; only really dealing with the final decision, but as soon as I had seen her stunning sketches I couldn't put the file back down. I wanted this woman at The Diary.
The drawings were nothing more than charcoal on paper, but they were awe inspiring, and a talent like hers was the reason my mother had started The Diary. She had taken the name from a quote by Pablo Picasso. Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.
My mother would be proud of her little dream. The retreat had become so popular that we now had to set limits, and only eight people got to stay there every six months. They could hone their skills, whether it was writing, painting or sculpting, all on the Theerade's money, and afterward we would help network their art. A great many had become famous after staying there, and that was why we had started the application process a few years back. Ploy would sift through all the forms and offer me a handful to choose from.
The day hers had landed on my desk, was a day I will never forget. I had wanted to seek her out. I wanted to know more than her basic statistic's, although they had been an interesting read.
She had lived in Chon Buri all her life, her father was the Police Chief, and her mother a Kindergarten teacher. She had lived a very ordinary, very mundane existence and moving here, to Bangkok had been a way of proving her independence. She wrote a little, but her passion was art, attached to her application were several sketches, and a few photographs of larger acrylic paintings. They had my complete attention from the moment I looked at them. I was caught up in the swirling mass of colors and textures.
The most interesting part of all was that she had not submitted the application. A man named Pong Nawat had done that for her.
Ploy had been about to shred it, saying if she couldn't apply for the place herself, then she must not be very interested in what the Retreat could mean for her future. I had taken it from her, stating I would deal with it.
Here I was, two weeks down the line, and obsessed with a pretty little waitress from a rundown diner. So obsessed, that I had gone to that diner this morning, just to look at her. I had bought a disgusting sludgy black coffee, sat at the sticky plastic table, and tortured myself by drinking the disgusting mess, just so I could watch her.
I felt like a fucking stalker. I probably looked like one too, but she stunned me. I wanted to know more about this woman, much more than what was on a flimsy piece of paper.
Why didn't she apply to The Diary herself, and who the hell was this Pong Nawat guy? What was her favorites color? What was she reading right now? Did she wear thongs?
I would find out the answers, because she was coming to the retreat, my retreat, and I would get to know the woman that was turning me into a sap. I fawned after no one, and it irritated the hell out of me that she could have this effect after just one look. The woman hadn't even spoken to me; I had ordered the shit (I refused to acknowledge it was coffee) from a guy whose tag said Mark. I had just watched her. Her hips were swaying, as she delivered the food to tables, and giggling with the patrons.
I seriously considered whether I should accept her application, mainly because by that point, I had been pitching a tent in my trousers. If this was the effect she had on me now, what would happen when I did speak to her?
The intercom buzzed, and Ploy's sultry tone filled my office.
"Ke...sorry, Mr. Theerade, would you like your coffee now?"
One thing I liked about Ploy was her ability to compartmentalize. When we were screwing it was Ken; for work it was Mr. Theerade. You have to love a woman that could do that.
"No Ploy, please meet me in Conference Room 3. I will have my coffee there, ready for the meeting with Johnny. Thank you."
I stood, bringing the file with me, and walked out of my office.
It had gone well, Johnny was in complete agreement. My brunette should go to the retreat; she had a lot of promise. I just don't think Johnny meant the kind of promise I did, but that was another matter entirely. He said he could teach her plenty, and expand on the talent she already possessed. Again, my train of thought was somewhere else entirely. All I had to do was make the call, and tell her she had been accepted.
I sat staring at the phone, holding her contact details between my fingers. I wondered how she was going to react. Did she even know this Pong guy had applied? I inhaled deeply and dialed her number.
"Hello, Mark's Diner." I couldn't decide whether the voice was male or female.
"Hello. Could I please speak to Annabelle Thongprasom?"
Whoever answered didn't respond, just sighed into the phone heavily.
"Annabelle? We don't have...Oh! You mean Anne? One minute."
I heard the phone clunk. What? Anne? I had no idea. The application stated Annabelle, but it was perfectly reasonable for her to shorten it to Anne. I fleetingly hoped I had the right woman after all this, but then I heard her voice. So sweet, so cute, so damn sexy.
"Hey?"
"Erm...is this Annabelle Thongprasom?" I held my breath, silently chanting for her to confirm it.
"Yes, who's this?" she said sweetly.
"Miss Thongprasom, I'm Ken Theerade. We received your application for The Diary artist retreat, and I wanted to advise you that you have been accepted. Congratulations."
She didn't answer. All I could hear was the banging and chatter of the diners in the background. This did not look good. I started to wonder what I would do if she declined my offer. I was losing my edge over this damned woman, and I had no clue why she was getting to me in this way.
"I didn't apply to any retreat. I think you have the wrong person. I have to get back to work."
"No...no don't hang up!" I sounded desperate, even to myself.
Get a grip Theerade!
"I know you didn't. The application came from a Pong Nawat."
"Motherfucker!" she spat down the phone. This was definitely the correct person. I was even more turned on by her now. She had a very dirty mouth, and my mind raced with the things I wanted her to do with it.
"Miss Thongprasom?"
"Look, I know all about your retreat, and really I'm not interested. Pong should never have done it. I'm sorry to have wasted your time."
No! She could not say no! I would not let her. I was getting her to Mount Rainer, even if I had to kidnap her. What the hell was happening to me?
"Miss Thongprasom, do you understand what a privilege it is to be accepted into The Diary?" I was blunt now; I needed to keep my facade.
She totted down at the phone; fucking totted at me, Ken Theerade!
"I know what it is, and to be honest, Mr. Theerade, I'm not interested in my art being hung from some corporate asshole's wall."
Well, fuck, what was I supposed to say to that?
This woman was making me crazy.
"Miss Thongprasom, I think..." but there was no point, she had put the phone down, disconnecting us.
I threw my receiver across the office and snarled. I was going to get Annabelle Thongprasom to The Diary come hell or high water. That woman was mine!