Iron Princess (Iron Palace Book 2)

by Lisa Ferrari

  There are a number of photographers, too.

  And about an hour after we arrive, a news van pulls in with a big NBC peacock logo on the side.

  There are a dozen YouTubers, car guys with profitable YouTube channels. Almost all of them have drones for aerial photography, and pretty soon the morning air is filled with the eerie buzzing of drones flitting about overhead.

  Each and every one of the car guys waits their turn to interview Kellan and get a tour of the Huracan and pepper him with questions about the Mr. Beaumont. They all want to know if he’s going to sell any of his cars or purchase additional cars. Or if he’s going to buy a Sesto Elemento. Whatever that is. Kellan says Lamborghini only made 20, all 20 have been sold, and they go for about three million bucks. So… probably not.

  Probably?

  Before long, Kellan has quite a crowd around him. Wow. This is a big event.

  The buses with Kellan’s kids park beside a dozen others. Once all the buses are unloaded and each of the kids is wearing a name tag, and the adults are sufficiently satisfied that everyone is present and accounted for, it’s time to drive.

  Every driver is paired up with a child and helped into the car. All the cars have been lined up in two long rows, facing one another, and we’re standing at the head of it all.

  Kellan has a megaphone in his hand (where did he get that?). He turns to me and says, “When I give you the signal, say, ‘Drivers, start your engines’ loud and clear.”

  Me?

  Kellan raises his hand in the air.

  One by one, each of the drivers sticks one arm out the window of their car and raises one hand in the air.

  When they’re all ready, Kellan holds the megaphone in front of my mouth and gives me a nod.

  I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and say, “Drivers! Start your engines!”

  The morning air is filled with the rumble of Italian V-10s and V-12s.

  More than a hundred powerful, exotic cars all starting at once.

  The sound is deafening.

  Wow.

  Like, wow.

  It gives me goosebumps.

  I never would have thought a bunch of cars could create such power, such majesty.

  Kellan and I get into the Huracan.

  We make our way to the entrance of the track, leading all the other cars. A man in a cowboy hat waves us onto the track.

  Kellan punches it.

  Holy cannoli.

  I’m thrown back in my seat. We make a sweeping left turn going uphill and merge onto the track, followed by a right turn, and it’s more uphill twists and turns.

  Kellan is obviously a seasoned driver. I forgot to ask him how many times he’s done this.

  The Huracan sounds incredible. The engine is right behind our heads, after all.

  It’s so fast.

  Kellan changes gears, slowing into a turn and then accelerating out again.

  I have no words to describe the speed, the power, the sound and the fury. Is this what Harry feels like on his Firebolt?

  The car is…

  Is…

  Alive.

  We swing through a tight right-hand turn and go downhill. Kellan drives right up to the blue-and-orange striped markings on the edge of the track (Kellan says it’s called the apron).

  The course levels out and Kellan accelerates hard. We whip left to right through shallow turns.

  I alternate between being pushed into my seat when Kellan steps on it and thrown forward against my seat belt when he brakes hard going into a corner. I hope I don’t get car sick and spend the whole day yacking my guts out.

  All the while, we’re passing slower cars, as well as being passed by faster cars. Kellan explains that it’s not a race. Plus, he wants to do a couple of laps to get the tires warmed up so they’re nice and sticky. Then we can go faster.

  I wonder to myself if we aren’t already going fast enough.

  But I also really like it.

  The speed is exhilarating.

  I understand now why people race cars, why companies build cars like this and why people like Kellan buy them. I start to really like it. Especially each time we pass another car and I see one of the kids inside with a huge smile on his or her face. That’s the real thrill. Several kids wave at Kellan and he always waves back.

  We make a hard right around some blue-and-yellow barrel things and Kellan hammers it. His fingers work the paddle shifters located behind the steering wheel. The Huracan’s V-10 screams behind my head. We are positively hauling ass down the straightaway.

  “How fast are we going?” I ask.

  “What?” Kellan shouts.

  “How fast are we going?!”

  “130.”

  We take the first left turn and head up the hill again. The tires must be warm because our second lap is faster than the first. The third lap is even faster. I wish I’d taken Dramamine. Or maybe two. And chugged a couple of Red Bulls to offset the drowsiness.

  But it’s fun. It’s a thrill unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The ultimate rollercoaster.

  After our third lap, Kellan pulls off the track and back into the paddock where we park.

  Everyone makes their way off the track and hundreds of jacked-up kids pour out of the exotic array of Lamborghinis. I thought I was excited; they are positively amped.

  We all make our way towards a big grassy area, where lunch is ready.

  A band is playing and some of the kids rush over to watch and start jumping around and dancing.

  Kellan and I join the crowd and make our way through the buffet. There’s a lot of pizza, plus pasta, macaroni and cheese, corn dogs, regular hot dogs, fried mozzarella cheese sticks, onion rings, big bowls of salad which most of the kids wrinkle their noses at, and a build-your-own-sundae bar where the kids go crazy playing with hot fudge, hot caramel, hot strawberry topping, and more colored sprinkles than I’ve ever seen in one place.

  Kellan grabs some of everything, especially the pizza.

  “You’re eating pizza? And cheese sticks? And onion rings?”

  “You bet your sweet ass I am. There are only a few times a year I go off my nutrition plan. Halloween, my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the Superbowl, Fourth of July, and today. Why do you think I made us get up and do cardio this morning? And why did we not eat carbs last night?”

  I have no idea.

  Kellan explains, “By exercising a lot and not eating carbs to replace the ones we’ve burned, it gives us a bit more leeway to eat this kind of food without spilling over.”

  “What’s spilling over again?” Kellan explained it at the gym the other day but I don’t recall exactly what he said.

  “When you eat carbohydrates and calorie-dense food, but because your muscles and liver are depleted of their glycogen stores due to the strict nutrition and intense exercise, the carbs and sugars get sucked into your muscles. Any excess goes into your liver. And hopefully, if you do it right, they don’t ‘spill over’ into your fat cells. Capiche?”

  “Si.”

  “Very good.” Kellan leans down and kisses me. We find two seats at a table full of happy, hungry kids and dig into our food.

  After the band, a magician performs, followed by a juggler. Then a stand-up comedian tells jokes for ten minutes about eating Brussel sprouts and doing homework and having to go to bed early. The kids laugh in all the right places. Either he’s funny or they’re polite.

  Kellan finishes his last slice of pizza and goes back for more. He returns with another four pieces.

  “Who pays for all this?” I ask.

  “I do.”

  “Really? How much does it cost?”

  “Between chartering the buses, renting the track for the day, hiring the entertainment, and paying for the food, about twenty grand.”

  Holy pizza-and-cheese-sticks. “Seriously?”

  Kellan nods. “Last year was less, only about fifteen. But we have a lot more people this year. Which is good. The more kids, the better.”
<
br />   “Why don’t you have the other drivers chip in?”

  “That might discourage participation. I want as many people as possible to bring their cars. They’re already paying for gas, especially the people who came from out of state. But most of them make a big donation to one of the children’s homes. And that’s the main thing.”

  AFTER LUNCH, WE all return to the parking area (Kellan says it’s called the paddock) for another round of hot laps.

  Kellan whips me around again. It’s more fun this time, now that I know the track and know what to expect. And have plenty of food in me to keep my stomach settled.

  Back in the paddock, I climb out and a bunch of kids take turns having Kellan drive them around the course. There are several other Huracans present, including a matte black one with purple brake calipers, and all the kids go bananas over it. But even more than that, they all want to take a ride with Kellan.

  While he’s driving them, I wander around the paddock, looking at the other cars and mingling with the other Lambo owners, mostly married couples. Everyone is very nice.

  I am befriended by a bubbly older blond woman named Debbie. She says she saw Kellan and me on TMZ when we were getting out of the Aventador in front of the Crow Bar on Sunset Boulevard, with all eyes on us. I saw it too, in my apartment after Kellan and I flew home. I looked like a beached whale trying to get my fat butt out of that car.

  “I thought those TV people were really mean,” says Debbie. “But to heck with them. I think you guys make a great couple. We’ve known Kellan for about three years now. You guys are perfect for each other. He’s been waiting for a woman like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, gosh, how do I say this…? A woman of substance. Does that make sense?”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re a real person, a well-rounded person, someone with both feet on the ground. In the past, Kellan always seemed to wind up with bimbos. I’m sure they were sweet girls but they always seemed preoccupied with two things: their looks, and being with Kellan Kearns. It never seemed to make any sense. There was no reciprocity. Kellan’s helping kids and they’re painting their nails. It was ridiculous. But you’re different. And Kellan is quite taken with you.”

  “He is?” It’s nice to hear this from a third party.

  Debbie nods. “I saw how he was looking at you during lunch. Pizza wasn’t the only thing he wanted to eat.”

  Debbie laughs.

  I dare to get excited. “I’m quite taken with him, too.”

  Debbie beams. “Oh, I’m so happy for you guys!”

  For the first time, I start to wonder where the future will lead with Kellan.

  ALL TOO SOON, it’s time to head home.

  The kids are preparing to board the buses. They’re all gathered around Kellan.

  “Did you guys have fun today?” he calls.

  “Yeah!” they answer in unison.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  “Yeah!” they cheer louder.

  “What?” Kellan puts his hand behind his ear.

  “YEAH!!!”

  “That’s better.”

  They all hug Kellan and give him high-fives and fist bumps as they board the bus. A lot of them hug me, too. I’m quite moved. Many of them say “Bye, Claire!” as they get on the bus. I didn’t realize they knew my name or that I was even here.

  Chapter 5

  KELLAN AND I arrive home utterly exhausted.

  We park the Huracan in the garage. Kellan squirts some cleaner wax on a microfiber cloth and gently cleans the front of the car, removing the bugs and road gunk. With that done, we go inside.

  Kellan microwaves two ready-meals and we eat while sitting in the Jacuzzi. I just adore enjoying a warm meal while submerged in hot water.

  After our soak, we dry off and curl up naked on the big sectional. We watch Talladega Nights. Kellan keeps saying, “He’s got two first names.” We laugh when Amy Adams crawls across the table in the bar like Tawny Kitaen in the infamous Whitesnake video. I point out that Tawny Kitaen was really good in Witchboard, which was a pretty freaky movie. Cheesy ending, but a good movie.

  Kellan says he liked her in Bachelor Party as Tom Hanks’s fiancée.

  When Molly Shannon has her scene when she has an orgasm at the race track when the cars go by, Kellan slides down onto the floor and proceeds to give me oral pleasure. He lifts my legs and presses them back against my chest. He sucks on my buttocks until I have fresh hickeys all over me.

  I start to rub myself but he pushes my hand away.

  “No, that’s my job right now. Grab the back of the sofa like you’re tied up.”

  This is exactly what we did last night in the home gym, but reversed.

  Kellan resumes giving me hickeys all over my butt and proceeds to eat my ass. It feels incredible. Amazing. So soft and warm and slippery down there. I want to like it. I do like it, but I’m a bit uncomfortable. Is it gross?

  “God, Claire, I love your ass,” he purrs.

  “What does it taste like?”

  “Musky. Sweet. It’s very nice.”

  Kellan resumes his oral activities. A few minutes later, after I’m pretty much losing my mind because it feels so good, he kneels before me and eases himself into my vagina.

  We come together in just a few minutes.

  When we’re done, Kellan has me stand up. Before I realize what he’s doing so that I can object, or run and hide, he takes a pic of my ass on his phone so I can see his handiwork.

  “See? Now we match.”

  “You’re not going to post that online are you?”

  “Of course not. This is just for us.”

  “You won’t show it to anyone?”

  “Would you take a pic of my butt and show it to Denise?”

  Not after that crap she pulled at her house, trying to get Kellan and me drunk on champagne so we could have a threesome. “No.”

  “Neither would I.”

  Chapter 6

  THE NEXT MORNING, we sleep later than usual in order to make up for getting up at the buttcrack of dawn yesterday to go to Sears Point.

  Once again, Kellan brings me coffee with cinnamon in bed. I’m beginning to like this royal treatment.

  Once I’m sufficiently alert, we do our morning cardio. I listen to music and Kellan reads from Prisoner. How he can walk on the treadmill and read at the same time without tripping and falling or getting motion sick is beyond me.

  When we’re done, we peel off our sweaty clothes and make our way to the shower. I’m looking forward to seeing what sexy tomfoolery we get up to before I have to go to work. It’s a small wedding in the rose garden at one p.m.. Easy.

  My phone rings. It actually rings. Someone is actually calling me. Only my parents call me. And rarely at that.

  I go to the bedroom and grab my phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Claire, it’s Nancy. Everything okay?”

  “Um, yeah. Why?”

  “It’s 10:23 and you’re not here.”

  “We start at 11:00.”

  “No, we start at 10:00. Didn’t you check your schedule?”

  And then I realize I left my copy tacked to the cork board next to the time clock.

  Fuuuuuuuuudge.

  Every two weeks, Nancy goes to the trouble of printing a copy for each of us, stapling the three pages together, writing our frickin names on the front page in red ink, and pinning them all to the board directly beside the time clock and the contract for the day’s event, which we’re all supposed to read first thing upon clocking in so we know what the heck we’re supposed to be doing that day.

  It’s our responsibility to check the contract and be at work on time.

  And I’ve just blown it.

  Shit.

  Shit shit shit.

  What is wrong with me?

  I remember Friday, when I clocked out, I was so excited to get home to see Kellan I must’ve neglected to take my copy with me. Why didn’t I just
put it in my purse when I got there? I was preoccupied with thoughts of his penis. That I recall distinctly.

  “Did you read the schedule wrong?” Nancy asks.

  “I forgot mine.”

  “No biggie. When can you be here?”

  If I’m out the door in 15 minutes and it’s a 20-minute drive, I should make it by 11:00.

  “11:00.”

  “See you then.”

  Nancy hangs up.

  Cock.

  I feel stupid.

  “Everything okay?” Kellan asks. I’m standing there naked, feeling utterly stupid. He begins kissing my shoulder. It sends chills through my body and my nipples get hard.

  Crap.

  No sexy tomfoolery today.

  “I was supposed to be at work at 10:00.”

  “It’s 10:24.”

  “Exactly. I have to haul ass.”

  “Okay. Let’s shower.”

  While I’m bathing, Kellan washes my back. And my ass. And the back of my thighs. He starts sliding his long, hard penis up and down between my buttocks. Oh, I could come just from that!

  Kellan ups the ante by swirling the soft head of his erection around my anus.

  Oh wow.

  I only kinda sorta had anal sex one time back in college but we never really got it in because it hurt and he went limp and we stopped and watched TV. I don’t remember the guy’s name but I know we watched Galaxy Quest afterward.

  I want Kellan inside me. I have no idea how he’ll fit, but oh do I want to give it a shot.

  But I’m late!

  “That feels so good, but we can’t, I’m going to be even more late for work.”

  “So be late.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. This is important.”

  “I know it is. But so is work.”

  “Fine.”

  Kellan backs off. We rinse quickly and get out. He’s quiet. I’ve never seen it before but I think he’s pouting.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t ‘nothing’ me, Kearns. I hate that just as much as you do.”

  “I’m sorry, okay? I just really wanted us to come together, so you could go to work with a post-orgasmic glow. And maybe my semen deep inside you. I would love that, knowing you’re at work but you can feel my semen in you. That’s hot.”