by Ward, Kira
Fury II
A Second Chance Romance
Aubrey Sage
Kira Ward
This book can be read as a standalone, but we highly recommend reading Fury: A Secret Baby Romance first for the best experience.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Thank You For Reading
Copyright © 2017 by Kira Ward, Aubrey Sage
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter 1
Amanda
“I’m standing in the kitchen, babe. No, I’m not wearing any panties.”
“Good. That’s how I like you,” Rick said into the phone.
I sighed. “How long until you’re home?” Just as I spoke, I heard sound of hard rubber crunching against the cobblestone driveway outside the house. “Is that you?”
Rick shut off the engine to his Maserati, and it let out a slight purr. “Yep, I’m home.”
“Yes!” I bit my bottom lip and started jumping up and down, doing my own little cheer. I clicked the phone off and ran to the front door, waiting for my old man to come inside.
It was only a few seconds later that he pushed it open and sighed when he laid eyes on me. “Well, don’t you look sexy,” he said, throwing his keys across the room, wrapping an arm around me, and pulling me close against his body.
Rick wasn’t the most fit guy in the world. He had a bit of chub, but he wasn’t anything close to obese. His pecs and shoulders were firm, and his arms still showed the signs of his younger days when he was more athletic. He had a couple extra pounds, sure, but I could understand why he didn’t have time for the gym when he was busy working hard to maintain the cushy lifestyle he’d built for us.
He leaned over, kissing me softly on the lips, and I purred in response, basking in the smell of his strong musky cologne and the prickles of his short, half-grey beard that I had grown to love.
People often accused me of staying with the old man just because of his money, but that simply wasn’t the case. I was truly in love with Rick... Of course, he was older—20 years to be exact—and it’s true that the only reason I initially gave him any attention was because he had connections to the modeling world, but once I got to know him, my love for him blossomed—it turned to something real, something concrete.
I was young and naïve when we met, but whatever we had just felt right. His maturity was the polar-opposite of my naivety, and he took care of me well. We had our problems, but he guided me when I needed guidance, and though sometimes I felt like he acted more like a daddy figure than a boyfriend, things mostly seemed to work out well.
Rick pulled back from our kiss and exhaled as he slowly opened his eyes and took in the kitchen far across the room. “What have you been doing all day?” he grumbled.
“Just waiting for you, babe.”
He pulled his arms from my waist and let out a disappointing sigh. He put a hand on his hip and shook his head from side to side. “Home all day doing nothing and the kitchen still looks like this? The peanut butter is still out and there’s shit all over the counter.”
“What babe? I just made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich a few minutes ago. I haven’t had time to clean it up yet.”
“No time to clean it up? How long does it take to put stuff away when you’re done eating?
“I was—”
“As a matter of fact,” he interrupted, “you should put your mess away before you start eating. We’ve talked about this before.”
I lowered my head and nodded slightly. “I understand. I’m sorry.” I don’t know what it was about him that made me so submissive. Before we met, I felt so empowered, like I could do anything and I was the queen of the world—Queen Amanda—and in many cases, I still felt that way when I was around my friends. But when I was with Rick, I just backed off and listened to what he wanted me to do. Maybe it was love or maybe it was because he was so much older that it made me feel like he was probably always right.
I shuffled from the front door, back over to the kitchen to clean up my mess, but he stopped me halfway.
“Wait,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t worry about all that for now. You can take care of it later. Take that big shirt you’re wearing off.”
I half-grinned and bit my inner lip, my poor mood being lifted away instantly. From the tone of his voice, I could tell what was on his mind. “Oh yeah?”
Rick reached down and grabbed his crotch over his jeans. “You told me you weren’t wearing any panties, right?”
I winked before lifting at the bottom of my oversized t-shirt and pulled it straight over my head, revealing my nude frame underneath.
“Fuck,” Rick spat. “That body.”
He shuffled his way closer to me and picked me up, giving me a single, hard slap on the ass as he carried me to our massive master bedroom. Our whole Beverly Hills house was massive—6 huge bedrooms, a 4-car garage and a pool that seemed to stretch for miles. When we reached the master, he laid me quietly on the bed and started to remove the light polyester jacket and the jeans that he was wearing.
I lay there naked, watching him undress, the anticipation building between my thighs. Sex wasn’t a big deal to me—I had men who were far more attractive and far better in bed before Rick—but I knew that he loved fucking me, and when he was happy, I was happy too. Even if I didn’t have an orgasm, it satisfied me to take care of the man that I loved, to be joined together with him.
Rick threw his last piece of clothing aside and sauntered over to the bed, naked. He was already hard, and the moment he got to me, he reached over to the nightstand, pulling a condom out of the drawer.
“Babe…” I groaned.
“What?”
“Come on.” I tilted my chin towards the condom and pouted.
“We’ve talked about this before, Amanda.” Rick shook his head as he ripped the package open and began rolling the rubber over his cock.
“I want a baby, Rick. When are we going to—”
“Let’s not get into this again, please,” he interrupted. “I’m not in the mood to fight. You know I’m not ready for another kid.”
I huffed and crossed my arms, frowning for a brief moment before I untangled and gave him a slight nod. I wasn’t happy about the decision, but we had fought about it enough already.
When my best friend, Layla, had her first baby, I fell in love with him as soon as I met him, and despite Layla’s hardships raising Travis, something changed in her the moment she got pregnant. She was driven, glowing. She had found a purpose in her life. I wanted that too. I wanted that same purpose.
I wanted to have a child with Rick.
But Rick alr
eady had three kids, and one of them was a year older than me. They all lived with his ex-wife somewhere in Washington, but he insisted that he didn’t have the stamina or mental energy to raise another child. Thus, he always insisted on using condoms since the first time we made love.
Rick smirked as he pressed his covered cock right up against my pussy and shoved it inside as quickly as he could. That was another thing I didn’t like—no foreplay. After being together a while, he didn’t seemed concerned about how I felt during sex, and I couldn’t remember the last time he went down on me. It was a bit of a bummer… but I could deal with it. Sex wasn’t the end of the world, right?
He leaned forward, pressing my legs closer to my chest as he began to grit his teeth and stroke himself in and out of me. “Fuck,” he grunted as he intermittently opened and closed his eyes, glancing down at my breasts swaying below. I was well endowed—had been since middle school—and Rick couldn’t seem to get enough of my tits.
It was only another three or so minutes before Rick clattered his teeth together again and released his orgasm inside of me—or rather inside of the condom. Sex also didn’t last too long of late, and he rarely ever wanted to change positions outside of standard missionary.
We shimmied to the bathroom together when the deed was done and hopped into the double-headed shower, each cleaning ourselves off.
“Layla’s wedding is next week, remember?” I asked as I lathered up my legs.
Rick sighed. “I still remember, and um—” he shook his head, rubbing soap around his neck. “You know I’ve got a lot of business meetings this month, right?”
“Babe!” I whined. “This is my best friend we’re talking about. I want you to be there with me during the wedding.”
“It’s just—”
“Rick, please…”
“Okay, okay. I’m still going. Don’t worry.”
I splashed the last bit of soap off my body and stepped up to Rick, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before jumping out of the shower. “Thanks, babe.”
Rick and I had hardly spent any time together around my friends, and I was really looking forward to them getting to know each other. I was sure they’d get along great… even if there were a couple decades in age difference.
Mason, Layla… Even Caleb—Mason’s brother—would probably be there. I hadn’t really spoken to the guy since high school. I wondered whatever happened to him.
Chapter 2
Caleb
“Fuck yeah!” I yelled out loud as I sped down the bottom of Rolling Bluff, passing a Lancer Evolution and taking the lead.
My feet shifted from clutch to gas as I moved myself into top gear, pushing near the redline in my Nissan GT-R. There were two other cars close behind, the Evo that I had just passed, and what looked to be a fully-restored Trans-Am that I wasn’t familiar with.
I glanced at myself in the rear-view mirror, noticing the light bruises that were still on my face from the beating that I had taken from Dimitri Black’s thugs a few months earlier. I wasn’t racing for pinks anymore, per the advice of my brother and hard-earned common sense, but I had put a $10,000 wager down on the race and couldn’t afford to lose.
My GT-R worked the straightaway area of the course well, but I could see that the Trans-Am behind me hadn’t lost an inch, despite me pushing my car to its limit. Beating him on the latter half of the track would require some precision.
I drifted on to the last leg, pushing up the incline of rolling bluff, causing my engine to roar in protest. The Trans-Am was gaining on my ass.
It felt like I was paying more attention to the car in my mirror rather than driving my own car. The Trans-Am seemed like it might have more power than me, or at least more powerful at climbing hills. Within moments he was right up to my rear bumper.
I swerved to keep myself directly in front of him, glancing back and forth from rear-view mirror to the incline ahead of me. It was a question of tuning really—my car was tuned for all-around driving, while his car seemed built for pure power.
We approached a sharp corner, and I whipped a little wider than I intended, allowing the Trans-Am just enough space to nudge his front end in beside me. When we straightened our vehicles, we were practically neck and neck.
He pushed, I pushed, and I could see inch-by-inch that he was gaining the advantage—right before we took another sharp turn, and he was a full car-length ahead of me.
“Fuck!” I yelled this time, angry that despite my best efforts, he still managed to pass me. I was going as fast as I could, but whatever he had under the hood was just too strong.
There was little track left, and I glanced down at my NOS button, considering for a moment to use it, to bust-a-nut and easily win the last leg of the race, but I also had to remember what had happened to Freddy Black years earlier when he had raced my brother on the same track… I didn’t want to end up like he had.
I didn’t want to end up dead.
I slammed my fist into the steering wheel as we continued to the very top of the bluff and pulled up to the finish line, beside the waiting crowd, taking 2nd place, losing to the guy in the Trans-Am.
As I parked and exited my car, I could hear the cheers of onlookers. A sea of people flooded around the Trans-Am driver to congratulate him. He was a tall, red-headed guy name Murphy. I finally recognized him as a racer who had previously run a pretty decent Nissan on the drag strip, but apparently he had upgraded his car and started racing long.
“Good race, buddy,” a heavyset stranger said to me as he patted my shoulder.
“Thanks.” I tilted my head and smiled, acknowledging his politeness.
“Good race, Caleb!” someone else called from several feet away on the bluff.
I raised my hand to them and gave them the same nod. Everyone knew me at Rolling Bluff, and many people had considered me the best racer out there. If it hadn’t been for a few recent losses, I might have believed the same.
Thankfully, the Black family never revealed to anyone the stunt that I pulled on them, when I raced Dimitri Black for pinks, lost the race, and tried to get away without losing my car. I was caught, of course, and dealt an ample punishment, but the worst punishment would have been getting banned and shunned from street racing if any of the other racers found out.
$10,000, I sighed to myself. I had won a lot more at The Bluffs than that since I started racing, but it was still a pretty big chunk of change to vaporize in an instant. I was still winning races, but I started losing my mojo on the day that I ran into trouble with the Blacks. My ego wasn’t quite where it needed to be, and my confidence was running low.
It was hard being brother to Mason Greene. He was arguably the best racer to ever compete at The Bluffs, so people had high expectations of me. He had never lost a race, but me—I had a great record and all, but couldn’t say the same.
But things would change, I was certain. I would win more races and someday be just as good, if not better, than Mason. I was determined.
I grabbed a beer from a cooler by the hot dog stand. “Put it on my tab, yeah?” I yelled to the vendor as I pried the cap off with my fingers and lifted the top of the bottle to my lips.
“Sure, Caleb,” the vendor said as he watched me stroll away.
I sauntered over to Mike at the betting stand, chugging the entire beer on the way. When I reached him, I tossed the empty bottle to the side and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “Another 10k,” I spat.
“Caleb…” Mike muttered, shaking his head from side to side and pretending to ignore me. An older, bald-headed man was in front of the stands asking about the next race.
“So the odds are 10 to 1 against the Corvette? If I bet $10 and the corvette wins, I’ll get $100 back?” the man asked.
“Mike!” I said, raising my voice.
Mike looked up, a frown on his lips. “Gimme a minute, Caleb.”
“10k on me for the next race,” I said again.
Mike continued to ignore me for the bald man. “Ye
ah, you’ll get $100 if he wins. You could also do a—”
“Mike!” I yelled louder this time. “Put me in for 10 fucking k, man. Forget about your $10.”
Mike eyes glanced to me and then the other better. “I’m sorry,” he said to him. “Can you give me a minute?”
The bald man nodded as Mike moved closer to me. “Caleb, you shouldn’t be drinking while you’re competing.”
“It’s was just a fucking beer.”
“Was it only one fucking beer? Are you sure you’re not drunk? You just lost ten grand and now you want to put down another ten?”
“I’m not drunk.” I was just buzzed, really. “Put me down.”
Mike sighed. “Do you know what your odds used to be? 10 to 1 for you to win. If I put you down now, your odds will be 50/50 than you’ll lose.”
“So? I’ll make more money if I win.”
“So?” Mike laughed. “It means that I don’t expect you’ll win. Not many people are betting for you to win anymore.”
“I’m betting on me,” I said confidently.
Mike bit his bottom lip and his eyes lowered to the ground. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “Look Caleb, I like you. I really do. And that’s the reason I’m telling you to relax. You shouldn’t just come up here and lose 20k in one fucking night. What would your brother think? Just accept your loss tonight, and run a few rounds for practice? You can always race another day.”
“10k on the next race,” I repeated.
Mike huffed, closed his eyes and touched his fingertips to his forehead. After a brief pause he answered with, “Okay.” He nodded his head lightly. “Give me the money then. I’ll put you down.”
“Just put it in the books. I’ll pay up if I lose.”
“What?” Mike shook his head with confused grin. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”
“You know I’m good for it Mike.”
Mike made a tight fist and bit down on his knuckle.
“C’mon Mike.”