Iron Princess (Iron Palace Book 2)

by Lisa Ferrari

  I find myself pushing back onto him, wanting more and more of him. I’m tempted to massage my clit because I want to come so, so badly. I do my best to resist; I want to prolong this; I want to enjoy it.

  I focus on Kellan. I want to get him off. I want him to explode deep inside me.

  I push back onto him, squeeze all my muscles, and pull off, then do it again.

  Kellan holds perfectly still, moaning and gasping.

  I hope I’m doing it right. I think I am.

  “I love your cock in my ass, Kellan,” I growl. I try not to question where that came from.

  I slide up and down, up and down, loving every inch of him each time he slides inside me.

  Kellan’s moans and breathing are getting higher pitched and louder and more fervent.

  I reach between my legs and caress his balls, pulling on his scrotum. He goes wild. I know he likes that.

  “Come in my ass, Kellan. Come in my ass.” Again, I try not to think about where my boldness originates. I finger my clit up and down quickly so we can come together.

  “Oh God… oh God… I’m coming, Claire… I’m coming…”

  I feel something hot and slippery inside me. Oh wow. I climax almost instantly.

  Kellan collapses on top of me. I love feeling his warm body pressed against my back. We stand that way for several minutes, both of us gasping for air, relishing the pleasure, taking in the experience we’ve just shared. He puts an arm around my front and pushes himself against me, flexing, emptying every last drop into me. It’s so hot. I could orgasm again on the spot I love it so much.

  I twist around so we can kiss. “Next time,” I gasp into his mouth, “let’s do that in front of a mirror.”

  He smiles. “Okay.”

  AFTER OUR SHOWER, we collapse on the bed and watch TV. The sound is muted. Football is on. We listen to the waves crashing on the beach outside our door below our balcony. We both get hungry again but we’re too tired to drive anywhere or to even go downstairs to the Italian restaurant for more chicken parm and tiramisu. I grab the Room Service menu off the nightstand and we read it together, discussing our options.

  We plan to order two Chicken Caesar salads, easy on the Caesar.

  But just as he’s about to pick up the phone, Kellan says, “You know what? I want a burger and fries and a Coke. You have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a burger and fries and a Coke?”

  “How long?”

  “About two years.”

  “Two years?” I’m blown away by his dedication. “Well, it’s your birthday. Go for it. Besides, I don’t think eating a burger and fries and a Coke once every two years is going to make you fat.”

  Kellan orders and the food arrives 20 minutes later. Kellan tips the guy a hundred and he goes away happy. We sit at the little round table by the window while we eat, staring out at the waves. The burgers are big and juicy and perfect. The buns are grilled and warm, the produce is cold and crispy, and the fries are salted just right. I pretty much drown them in ketchup and we take turns feeding one another French fries. And the ice-cold soda hits the spot.

  Halfway through our meal, when we’re beginning to slow down and savor our food once our appetites have been sated a tad, Kellan smiles.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing, it’s just… This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

  I want to cry. My heart melts, my stomach drops, and my spirit soars. What a sentiment. And to think I have something to do with it.

  Kellan leans closer to me. He kisses me.

  “I love you,” he murmurs.

  Oh wow.

  “I love you, too.”

  We kiss again, longer this time, our lips greasy and salty with ketchup and pickles and our fingers shiny with grease.

  “I could stay here forever,” Kellan says.

  “Me too.”

  And I know truer words were never spoken.

  Chapter 10

  THE NEXT DAY, we must depart for home, back to Kellan’s house.

  We’re sad to leave the hotel, and slow to pack and actually check out.

  When we get downstairs to where the Mister Beaumont is parked, Kellan says, “You drive.”

  When I question him on the matter, Kellan says I’ve just given him the best birthday of his life. And I was with him when he bought the Aventador; the least he can do is let me drive it.

  My hands and legs are shaking as I slide behind the wheel and the friendly valet lowers the door for me. I push the red Start button and the V-12 behind our heads roars to life.

  “Captain Kirk’s nipples!” Kellan gasps.

  “What?”

  “It sounds different sitting on the passenger side. It sounds amazing.”

  I agree wholeheartedly.

  I guide us out of the hotel parking lot and into traffic. Immediately I notice that the car is both heavy and light. I turn the wheel a tiny bit and step on the gas just a little and the car simply goes. It’s fast. Really fast. When we’re on the freeway and no one is around, Kellan tells me to punch it. I get it up to 167 miles per hour before I hit the brakes. It is perhaps the most thrilling 15 seconds of my life.

  Next to every moment spent with Kellan, of course.

  DENISE TEXTS ME a few days later and asks to meet for lunch. She insists on eating at Panera because it’s close to her office and they have free refills of coffee. She makes a quarter-mill a year but she loves their free coffee.

  While we eat, I tell her about my trip to Monterey with Kellan for his birthday. I leave out the juicy details about sex toys and our confessions and what we did in the shower.

  Instead, I tell her about the massage and dinner and training.

  “Don’t you mind all that training?” Denise asks.

  “Heck no I don’t mind. Training leads to eating, co-bathing, and hours of sex followed by the best sleep I’ve ever had. Kellan loves to spoon and cuddle.”

  Denise scoffs. “Mark refuses to be touched while we sleep. I’m beginning to suspect deep psychological issues. Did I tell you he wants me to sell my house and move into his shitty little apartment?”

  “No. Why?”

  “So we can use the money to finance his new car dealership.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. But that brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you think Kellan would be willing to invest? And if so, would you let me know so I can schedule a meeting with the four of us to discuss it?”

  “Um, sure. I’ll talk to Kellan.”

  “Thanks, Claire bear.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  One of these days I’m going to tell her to take her ‘Claire bear’ and shove it up her ass.

  THAT NIGHT, AFTER work, Kellan and I relax in the spa after a workout in the home gym.

  I tell him about my lunch with Denise and the dealership proposal.

  Kellan says he’s willing to discuss it. He’s always looking for good investment opportunities.

  When we get out and dry off, Kellan says he has something to show me. He takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom. He opens a drawer and underneath some stuff he reveals a collection of sex toys.

  Holy cock.

  Literally.

  Kellan sheepishly explains how he’s ordered these online over the past several years. He then makes me swear a blood oath on my eyes that I won’t ever tell anyone about them. Ever.

  I agree.

  With that taken care of, we hop into bed and promptly experiment with the toys, until we both collapse with exhaustion two hours later.

  Chapter 11

  NOVEMBER IS SLOW at work. Summer wedding season is over and the holiday parties won’t begin until the middle of December. There’s usually a couple of Halloween parties (we always have to wear a cape during our shift) and a big Thanksgiving Day buffet that runs until about six in the evening.

  It means less money on my checks, but more time to spend with Kellan. In the past, I’d s
it around my apartment watching TV. But this year, I spend pretty much every day at Kellan’s. Several times I start to fear I’ve worn out my welcome, that I’m imposing or intruding, or that Kellan will resent me being in his house.

  But each time I suggest that maybe I should spend a night or two at my place, to give him some space and whatnot, he always convinces me to stay.

  So I do.

  We continue to train hard, play hard, and make love.

  Boy, do we ever.

  Each time I have an orgasm that is the best I’ve ever had, Kellan does something to me, or I do something to him, that tops it.

  We take a lot of drives in the afternoon to enjoy the fall weather. Most of the time, we take the Aventador. But when we don’t want the attention, we take the Stingray.

  One Thursday night, Denise asks us over to her place for dinner so Kellan and Mark can discuss the car dealer investment.

  Denise whips up a delicious meal of salmon sautéed in lemon and garlic, mashed potatoes, and steamed asparagus. She even has a peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream for dessert.

  I didn’t know she had it in her. She’s never been the Betty Crocker type.

  After dinner, we take our coffees into the living room. But then out comes the Bailey’s Irish Cream and the whiskey.

  The next thing I know, Denise and Mark are wasted. They start making out. With tongues. Mark is feeling Denise up and Denise is full-on grabbing his dick through his Dockers.

  WTF?

  Kellan and I sip our coffee, trying not to look.

  Denise’s pink angora sweater comes off and she starts sucking Mark’s dick.

  With one look, Kellan and I agree to get the heck out of there.

  Kellan opens the Stingray’s passenger door for me and goes around and gets in. As we’re driving away, he says, “Well. That was fun. That’s the second time she’s tried to get into my pants. Mark must want to have sex with you pretty badly if he’s willing to let me have sex with Denise. Which is a compliment to you, but not to him. Or to their relationship. Yikes.”

  “You think so?” The overly-affectionate display struck me as weird, but did it qualify as Denise wanting to have sex with Kellan and Mark wanting to have sex with me? I pose this question to Kellan.

  He looks at me and smiles. “That was their way of inviting us into an orgy. Or some swinging. The funniest part is that we didn’t discuss the car dealership. It wasn’t mentioned one time.”

  “Were you going to invest?”

  “Maybe. I was going to ask to see his business plan and have my attorney Brett look it over.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. It’s weird now. I can’t do business with someone who’s trying to sleep with my girl. I hate that.”

  This makes me feel good.

  Kellan reaches over and takes my hand and holds it the whole way home.

  A FEW NIGHTS later, after an early workout and a cursory Jacuzzi soak, Kellan and I have a Sandra Bullock movie marathon: The Proposal, Miss Congeniality, and Miss Congeniality II, because neither of us can recall having seen any of them.

  We have popcorn and protein shakes and snuggle naked on the sofa, under a big and very soft fleece blanket.

  The Proposal and Miss Congeniality are both very funny and quirky. (And Kellan does not get a stiffy when she struts out of the hangar after her makeover, wearing that tight purple dress.) But Miss Congeniality II is pretty weak. By the time it ends, we’re ready to get busy. We’ve been sitting here, naked, for hours. And I’m touched that Kellan has endured three girlie movies with me. I climb on top of him and make love to him on the sofa.

  We fall asleep, and wake up at four in the morning and stumble to bed.

  The next day, we do our morning cardio, Kellan goes into his office and I relax by the pool with my laptop. I’m piecing together an outline for a new novel, but a little voice inside me keeps saying it’s not very good. I try not to listen.

  After several hours, I decide to take a break. I close my laptop and dive into the pool. I’m floating on the pool chair when Kellan comes out of the house.

  He’s grinning ear to ear. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Guess!”

  “Um, you invented a pill to give women multiple orgasms and you want me to test it?”

  Kellan laughs. “No, but that’s good. That might even be better than what I was going to say.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “I just talked to Rami and Aaron. Remember them?”

  “The movie guys?” Standing with Kellan on a table in the private lounge of a posh Hollywood night club and reading, nay enacting, a scene from a bona fide screenplay and having our first kiss is not something I will soon forget.

  It’s something I will always remember.

  Always cherish.

  Always.

  Kellan nods enthusiastically. “They wanted to know what we thought of Nightspace. I told them we liked it. Then they said they want us to come down and do a screen test.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s basically the same thing we did last time standing on the table at the club, but more official. They want to see how we look on camera.”

  “Both of us? On camera?” Aaron had a pretty expensive-looking camera in his hands at the club. He pretty much stuck it in our faces when we kissed. But now I’m envisioning a big, black Panavision camera with those big things on top where the rolls of film go, and a huge lens on the front, and some guy sitting in a chair on one of those dolly things, and a couple of guys pushing him, and about a thousand other people all standing around behind the camera… watching.

  Watching us.

  Watching me.

  Criminy.

  “When?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow. You available?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cool. I’ll go book our flight and make a hotel reservation.”

  Kellan goes inside.

  I start to panic.

  Holy poop, we’re going back to L.A. for another meeting. For a screen test. What the heck is a screen test?

  I need to Google it. Immediately. My phone is on the table beside my laptop.

  I paddle my pool chair towards the pool steps, but I don’t get anywhere. I spin myself around and try paddling backwards. It’s slow going. Finally I simply roll sideways and capsize the whole chair, and me with it.

  I swim to the side and grab my phone and run a quick search and read the results while I drip all over the deck.

  A screen test is a method for determining if an actress or actor is suitable for performing in a particular role, typically in a major motion picture.

  Major motion picture. Holy fuckle-sticks.

  I continue reading.

  The actress/actor is typically given a scene or selected lines or actions from said major motion picture and asked to perform in front of a camera to determine if she/he is suitable. The film is developed, processed, and/or edited and evaluated by the appropriate production personnel, often the casting director and the director. The actress/actor may be asked to prepare a monologue in advance or she/he may be given a script to read on the spot, i.e. a cold reading. The actress/actor may be asked to read a scene in which another performer enacts the lines of another character.

  Holy… I don’t know what.

  This is some scary stuff.

  I already know I can’t do it.

  I do a poor job of wrapping a towel around my wet body and I go inside to find Kellan. He’s on the computer, booking the flight and hotel.

  He sees me standing in the doorway. “You okay?”

  I’m most definitely not okay. But I nod anyway. “Just panicking.”

  “Panicking? Why?”

  “Because now I have time to think about the screen test and totally freak out. The first time, it was a complete surprise. We were there for your meeting and I somehow got drawn into it. This time, they want to see me, too.”

  “That’s ri
ght. They do. It’s fantastic. You actually have a shot at this. Have you ever wanted to act?”

  “I don’t know… Maybe a little. Everyone dreams about being a movie star, right?”

  “Play your cards right and you may actually have a shot at it.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll show you. Aaron said he’d have his assistant email me the sides, so we can work on it.”

  “What are sides?”

  “That’s what they call the pages with the scene from the script they want us to act out together.”

  “Is it going to be just the two guys, Rami and Aaron, like last time?” According to my Google search, it could be Rami and Aaron and the entire cast of A Chorus Line singing “I Hope I Get It”.

  “No, they want us to come to their offices at Paramount. Some other members of the producing staff will be there, Sheila will definitely be there, but don’t worry because she’s totally cool, and the casting director most likely.”

  “Sounds like a lot of people.”

  “Probably five or six. Is that okay?”

  “I guess.”

  “You scared?”

  “Petrified.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not an actress. I’ve never taken acting classes. I’ve never even been in a school play. I can’t sing or dance. And I’m not exactly camera-ready. I mean, look at me. I’m not even close to my goal weight. Plus I heard the camera adds ten pounds. That’s like, almost two month’s worth of hard work. Two months of hardcore training and dieting.”

  “Which you’ve done beautifully and which you will continue to do for as long as you want to do it. Look, Claire, I know this is intimidating.”

  “You could say that.”

  “But look at it as just another adventure. Like buying the Mister Beaumont and going to Sears Point with the kids, and going to the gym every day, or like singing at The Glass Turtle.”

  “That was different. Plus, I had to get drunk off my ass to sing. And then I puked in front of everyone and made a complete fool of myself.”

  “But it was an adventure. And an opportunity for you and me to share a fun experience. That was the first time I spent the night at your place.”