Iron Born (Iron Palace Book 1)

by Lisa Ferrari

  We climb out of the pool and dry off and get dressed. I love walking around in my dress with no panties on. I’ve never been into not wearing underwear. But doing it around Kellan is exciting.

  We go inside and he blends up two protein shakes for us, with oatmeal and egg whites and peanut butter and a banana.

  “Cheers,” he says. “To the Mister Beaumont.”

  “To the Mister Beaumont.”

  We click our shaker cups together and drink. It is sooo good.

  Kellan puts one arm around me. “Feel free to do whatever while I’m working. Make yourself comfortable. I want you to feel at home here, okay? Hang out here in the kitchen, on the couch, watch TV, lounge by the pool….”

  “Or in your bed?”

  He smiles. “Sure.”

  “Actually, I brought my laptop. I was thinking about doing some writing. I haven’t been writing much at all lately. Like, almost a year. It’d be good to get back to work again.”

  “A year? Why so long? I thought you loved to write.”

  “I do. At least, I used to. I don’t know…. My books don’t sell and I’ve tried everything I can think of. I think I’ve been depressed. Clinically depressed, maybe. I haven’t felt like doing much of anything.”

  “Are you on medication? Antidepressants?”

  “No. But I think things are turning around because, lately, I’ve been having ideas.”

  “A new book idea?”

  “Maybe. I hope so.”

  The boop-BOOP-boop, boop-BEEP-boop noises of Skype emanate from the computer in Kellan’s office.

  “Gotta run.” He kisses me on the cheek. I’m finding his kisses on the cheek to be very sweet. Something about it seems so innocent and sweet and loving all at once. No one has ever done that to me before.

  I grab Kellan and plant a kiss right on his lips. I push my tongue into his mouth and reach down and grab him through his red shorts.

  He smiles and hurries to his office, pumping his fist in the air as he goes.

  I stand there in the kitchen, sip my shake, and am completely content.

  AROUND 4:00 P.M., we get dressed for the movie and prepare to head out.

  While we’re dressing, I’m surreptitiously watching Kellan as he stands in front of his closet wearing only black boxer briefs. He’s showered and shaved and fresh and smells like vanilla and coconut and shaving cream. The combination makes me want to eat him.

  He pulls on his jeans, followed by a black v-neck T-shirt. It’s snug. He looks so good in it.

  I’m standing by the bed, wearing only my lacy black Walmart thong and matching bra. Denise is a Vicky’s Secret girl. I don’t understand why you pay 30 bucks for a piece of Chinese-made fabric that’s just going up your butt crack anyway. They’re all going to smell the same at the end of the day. But maybe someday I’ll splurge on expensive lingerie. I’d do it for Kellan.

  I put on the only pair of strappy heels I own. I had to wipe the dust off the black patent leather when I dug them out of my closet yesterday. They class-up the otherwise casual sundress. And they make me taller. Kellan is 6’4” so I need all the help I can get.

  I slip the dress over my head and let it fall to my feet.

  Kellan is watching me while he slips into his shoes. His erection is bulging in the front of his jeans.

  We share a look that says we both want to get it on.

  Kellan slides his arms around me from behind. He cups my breasts and gives them a little squeeze through my bra. He slides his hands down the front of my dress to the insides of my thighs, and caresses my vulva through the fabric.

  Oh wow.

  He kisses my neck and bites my jaw as he slides his hands around to my ass and squeezes it, spreading me open and making me want it like that; his fingers, his tongue, his huge dick. I want him to bend me over the bed and put it wherever he likes. For hours.

  “We have to go or we’ll miss the previews,” I gasp as he sucks on my neck, sending chills through my entire body. We already bought the tickets online, otherwise I’d pull my dress up and encourage him to give it to me.

  At last we separate ourselves and manage to get out the door.

  We take the Aventador, aka the Mister Beaumont, so Denise can see it at dinner. I don’t know what she’ll say. She’s not exactly a motor head so she probably doesn’t know exactly how expensive it was. But then again, she just dropped six figures on her own brand new vehicle.

  When we arrive at the movie theater, Kellan parks in a loading zone painted with yellow stripes, right in front of the box office. He leaves me in the car and goes inside to find the manager. They come out a couple of minutes later. There are already a number of people standing around the car, taking pics and video of it. With me in it. I sit with my sunglasses on and pretend I’m not uncomfortable.

  The manager says it’s fine if Kellan parks in the loading zone right in front of the box office. He puts a couple of orange rubber cones around the car. Kellan slips him some money. I can’t see how much but it looks like a hundred.

  The lobby has few people in it, given that it’s still early afternoon. The kid who serves us our popcorn recognizes Kellan and freaks out.

  “Holy shit. Oh, uh, sorry, Mister Kearns. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Would you like some popcorn?”

  “Yes, please. A large.”

  “You got it.”

  He hands us our bucket and when we get to the register, he calls out, “Hey, Timmy, their popcorn is on me. Have a nice day, Mister Kearns.” He tips his head to me, “Misses Kearns.”

  We head toward the theater.

  Kellan feeds me a piece of popcorn. “Here you are, Misses Kearns.”

  Holy freakin cannoli. I know Kellan is screwing around, but hearing him say that makes my heart skip a beat.

  “Thank you, Mister Kearns.” I smile and accept the popcorn as graciously as I can.

  I catch sight of us as we walk past a row of mirrors. Kellan looks amazing. Huge. And, surprisingly, I actually look pretty good as well. The dress is flattering and hides the parts I prefer be hidden, and my strappy shoes look really cute. I feel as if I could actually be Misses Kearns.

  Once we’re in our seats, we talk while we wait for the trailers to begin. There’s a slideshow on the screen featuring local businesses. Car dealers. A day care. A plumber. And NorCal Physio with a picture of Stacy in front of the dunk tank. She’s wearing a white lab coat and eye glasses and holding a clipboard. She appears professional; mostly; she might as well be naked underneath the lab coat.

  “Man,” says Kellan, “we just can’t get away from her, can we?”

  He feeds me another piece of popcorn.

  “Did you know she was advertising in movie theaters?” I ask.

  “No. But she said something about running a new campaign and that business had picked up almost 30 percent. This must be why.”

  “Why don’t you advertise in movie theaters?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should.”

  Mercifully, the slide of NorCal Physio and Stacy McTitties switches to another car dealer.

  “So why does Denise call you Clarice?” Kellan asks me.

  “Two reasons. One, it rhymes with Denise. And two, Silence of the Lambs is Denise’s favorite movie.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. She loves the part when the guy says, ‘I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me so hard.’ She says that all the time. About herself, especially when we’re getting ready to go out.” I try to make my voice deep and creepy. “ ‘It places the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.’ And the part at the end when Jodi Foster is in the dark and the guy is watching her with the night-vision goggles and she can’t see him. Two years ago, we got kinda loaded on Thanksgiving after I’d gotten off work and we watched that movie and she told me about this fantasy she has that she’s kidnapped and chloroformed and when she wakes up, she’s in the middle of a dark maze and she’s naked and she has to escape before some guy finds her and has his way wi
th her. But she doesn’t actually want to escape; she wants to get wildly fucked for, like, two days straight, until she’s in an orgasm coma. And she said that, sometimes, the guy who’s coming after her in the maze is the big minotaur from that movie Your Highness with Danny McBride and James Franco. She loves that scene where the minotaur is trying to mount that guy and Natalie Portman comes and plays the flute to distract it and you can see the minotaur boner.”

  “Denise wants minotaur dick?”

  “Totally. But don’t tell her I told you.”

  “I won’t. I have a question for you: If I cut a hole in the bottom of the popcorn bucket and put my penis through it and you jerked me off and I ejaculated all over the popcorn, would you still eat it?”

  “Yes. As long as it was yours. Would you?”

  “Do it or eat it?”

  “Eat it.”

  “Uh… I think I’d save the wetter pieces for you.”

  “Isn’t movie theater popcorn bad for you?”

  “I’m sure it has some saturated fat. But it’s just corn and salt. It’s one of my few vices. You have to enjoy life. Is it hot in here?”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re not hot?”

  “No.”

  “I’m boiling. Can you hold the popcorn?” I take it from him. “Be right back,” he says.

  He heads toward the back of the theater and out the door.

  He comes back about three minutes later and sits down. “I told the manager to turn on the air.”

  The trailers begin and we settle in.

  About five minutes later, after the second trailer, Kellan says, “Fuck! I still don’t feel any air. Here, hold the popcorn. I’ll be right back. Again.”

  I hear him drop another F-bomb on his way out of the theater.

  Slight overreaction.

  I’m dismayed. I’m not sure what just happened.

  Kellan comes back. “Sorry.”

  “You okay?” I feed him a piece of popcorn to try to calm him down.

  “Yeah, I just hate being hot while I’m trying to enjoy a movie. And I hate missing the trailers.”

  I’m concerned; I’m not sure what to think.

  Kellan takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. I know. I just have a thing about missing movies or being late or getting crappy seats. I take my movies very seriously. I know most people spend half the movie on their phone, updating their Facebook page and Tweeting inane bullshit and they don’t care, but I do. I’ve been waiting two years for this movie to come out so I want everything to be perfect.”

  Kellan takes my hand.

  He feeds me popcorn.

  I feed him popcorn.

  I try to put his outburst out of my mind.

  TEN MINUTES LATER, the actual movie begins.

  Kellan leans close to me and says, “Okay, look for the names Aaron Abraham, Rami Levi, and Sheila Thompson.”

  Each time we see one of their names, Kellan gets excited. The final opening credit says DIRECTED BY AARON ABRAHAM.

  Kellan gets very excited and claps his hands and woo-woo’s. He’s the only person in the theater who does. It’s a little embarrassing but he’s so excited I decide not to care.

  Plus, it is pretty cool that I actually met Aaron and Rami, the people responsible for this film I’m sitting here preparing to watch.

  RUTH’S CHRIS STEAKHOUSE is surprisingly crowded.

  Kellan has been talking a million miles an hour about the movie because he’s so excited about it. I must admit, it was very good.

  The valet in the red vest just about craps himself when he sees the Aventador and Kellan hands him the key, along with a $100 bill.

  “Take good care of her,” Kellan says. “I just got her today.”

  “Yes, sir, Mister Kearns,” says the valet. He knows who Kellan is.

  When we enter, almost every employee we encounter greets Kellan by name. Some say ‘Kellan’. Some say ‘Mister Kearns’. Others say ‘Whuddup, K-Man?’

  I look up at him as we stand at the bar, waiting for Denise. “K-Man?”

  He just shrugs and drinks his O’Douls.

  I sip on my Diet Coke.

  Denise comes in a few minutes later.

  You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s wearing a tight, white dress and white fuck-me shoes that have got to be six inches high. She’s showing so much cleavage, the valet guy could park a car between her boobs.

  Everyone stops to look at her.

  Everyone.

  And I thought I looked half-decent in my dress. She ought to be in Monte Carlo, surrounded by tanned, millionaire playboys in white pants and deck shoes, strolling among the yachts and enjoying weird French food like escargot and fois gras and chugging Cristal. Compared to Denise, I look like I just went shopping at a redneck garage sale.

  I try not to dwell on the notion that Denise is the type of woman Kellan ought to be with.

  She gives me a big hug.

  She gives Kellan a big hug.

  Kellan is holding my hand and doesn’t let go as he puts his other arm awkwardly half-way around Denise when he hugs her.

  The hostess seats us at a really nice, quiet table.

  Denise immediately drags me to ladies’ room.

  Once we’re ensconced in the marble-lined echo cave that is the ladies’ room, she says, “So, give me the 411 on the hunk.” She makes a show of rooting around in her purse for her lipstick and compact, stalling while I reply.

  I tell her briefly and in no great detail that Kellan and I had a great talk and that he kissed me.

  “Open mouth?” Denise is so excited that I can’t help myself: I completely spill my guts right there in the ladies’ room.

  “Oh, yeah, open mouth.”

  “Lots of tongue?”

  “Nothing but tongue.”

  She positively titters in her white dress and daredevil heels. “Oh, Clarice, I’m so happy for you. So what happened, did you guys totally get it on?”

  “Totally. We went at it last night in his Jacuzzi.”

  “Oh, that is so hot. Did you guys get naked?”

  “Completely.”

  “Oh my God. Did you see his cock?”

  “Yep. I jerked him off and he came all over the place.” I have a suspicion I shouldn’t be telling her this.

  But it feels so good.

  Years and years of envy and of feeling completely left out of the dating scene and of having no sex life whatsoever and hearing story after story about Denise and her conquests has finally ended. I finally have a red-hot sexual encounter to share and I’m bursting at the seams to share it. Telling Denise is like reliving it all over again. I love it.

  “And then what?” Denise asks. She’s standing there holding her extended lipstick, clinging to my every word.

  “He fingered me and made me come.”

  “How?”

  “Um, he put his middle finger inside me and used his thumb to rub my clit.”

  “Nice. Good technique. And you came?”

  “That’s an understatement. I came so hard I couldn’t breathe.”

  Denise hugs me. She actually hugs me. “Oh, I’m so happy for you. So then what, you went to bed?”

  “No…well, sort of. I fell asleep on his chest and woke up an hour later. We went inside and he made the most amazing meal for us. And we sat on the sofa, wearing only our towels, and we ate and we talked. Then we watched Conan again.”

  “Oh, I hate that stupid movie.”

  “I liked it. And what about the sex scene?”

  “What sex scene?”

  “Well, actually there were a few, but what about the one where Conan does that woman with the long black hair in her hut? They totally do it in front of the fire. It’s hot. She tries to kill him, but before that it’s pretty hot. Kellan and I watched that part six or seven times and then he dimmed the lights and turned on the fireplace and we, um, sort of recreated it.”

  “You did it?”

  “No, not exactly. We
sort of made a pact not to have actual intercourse, because of the pressure and because we hadn’t discussed birth control or any of that stuff.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I opened his towel and sucked his dick.”

  “Oh, Claire bear, that is so great. You haven’t sucked dick since you threw up on the Taco Bell guy.” Denise gives me the biggest, most heartfelt smile.

  “I know.”

  “How was it?”

  “Amazing. Kellan has a really, really nice penis.”

  “Is it big? I bet it is.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Then it’s not.”

  “No, I mean, how do you know if it’s big?”

  “If it were a cucumber, how big would it be?”

  I show her with my hands spaced apart, and then make a ring with my thumb and index finger to demonstrate the circumference.

  “Oh my God, that’s like eight or nine inches. Did you gag on it?”

  “Surprisingly, I didn’t. I really enjoyed it. He caressed the back of my head with his hands but it was really nice. He wasn’t constantly trying to shove it down my throat.”

  “I hate that. Men are such pigs. Does he know about the Taco Bell incident?”

  “No, I haven’t told him yet.”

  “So, did you swallow?”

  “No, he got so excited that he stopped me and had me kneel on the sofa while he went down on me. I was dripping. I mean, literally dripping.”

  “And then what?”

  “I climbed on top of him and rubbed myself up and down on him until he came again.”

  “He came twice? Claire, you lucky dog. And did you?”

  “Oh yes. As soon as I saw it shooting out of him, I lost it. There was so much semen. I counted five big squirts before I closed my eyes and my head almost exploded. Do guys normally come that much?”

  “Depends. Depends on how long it’s been since they had sex, how excited they were and for how long before they ejaculate. Some guys come a lot. Some guys not that much. Sounds like he’s one of the ones who comes a lot. So, who made the first move?”

  “He kissed me.”

  “But who got naked first?”

  “I took off my top and then later my bottoms.”

  “And did he take off his shorts or did you do it?”