Ignition (BBW Alpha Male MC Biker Romance)

by Beaunoir, Ashlee

  IGNITION

  ©2015 by Ashlee Beaunoir

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the written consent of the author.

  This is a work of pure fiction intended for mature audiences 18 or above only. All characters involved are over the age of eighteen. Any names, places, businesses, character profiles or incidents are an invention of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any characters, events or places described within resembling persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Cover art from Fotolia

  Thank you for reading my book! If you liked it, please feel free

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  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Club Iscariot

  Curtis Ross

  Jesse Martinez

  Terry Hawkins

  Shane Johnson

  Rick Caldwell

  Victor Colton

  Introduction

  “What about this one?”

  “Yuck. Too many neck tattoos. No way.”

  “I guess. He also has that teardrop tattoo.”

  “Doesn’t that mean he’s been traded one too many times by his prison boyfriend for cigarettes?”

  “I think it means that he killed someone.”

  “Either way, I’m not interested.”

  Olivia laughed and took back another sip of her drink. The mimosas were really starting to kick in now. It all started as a dreary night with a poorly arranged double date that ended earlier than expected. Their respective dates they met over the latest trendy matchmaking app had turned out to be total duds, not studs. They quickly made up some urgent fake emergency and exited stage left as soon as they could text each other under the table. Not wanting to do the club scene, they decided to hang out at Sandra’s condo for the rest of the night; commiserating in their shared single status and drowning their solitary sorrows in alcohol. When Olivia asked if there were any worse places to pick up loser men other than the new app they discovered, Sandra gave it some deep thought, typed something into the search engine, and handed Olivia the results on her iPad.

  “Have a good look. Pick your Friday Felon Crush.”

  Sandra had several profiles of men displayed on a randomly chosen prison pen pals site.

  “Death row or no death row?” Olivia asked.

  Sandra answered, “Death row? Where’s the fun in that? You want a future release date. For that Happily Ever After, of course.” She snorted some of the alcohol through her nose as she laughed at her own response.

  Sandra giggled at her friend, Olivia. “Perhaps you’re too picky. Have another peach mimosa and another look at the selection. I’m sure there’s something there that catches your eye.”

  They scrolled through the pages together, silently judging the recent stock photos and texts of available incarcerated men. As the evening wore on, the girls became bolder and more inebriated.

  “How about him?”

  “Kinda cute. Nice smile. And he lives so close too!”

  Sandra bent down at the screen to have a closer look. She saw a muscular heavy set man in a white tank top and long white sweat pants casually leaning against a wall in a side pose. A warm easy smile spread across his handsome face. A large indecipherable tattoo graced his left bicep. “Ooh. Victor. He is cute. And his profile says he likes animals, and wants to get his degree in Marketing. I think you have a winner, Olivia!”

  “Whatever. It’s your turn now Sandra. Who knows, on page two, you may just find your Happily Ever After. And in just a few clicks too!”

  “Like picking puppies from the pound.”

  With Olivia choosing her preferred candidate, Sandra scrolled through the listings.

  Sandra snarked, “Here we go. This guy Allen. He looks like a keeper to me.”

  Olivia took the iPad from Sandra and looked at the profile. He was a tall, thin man wearing athletic gear with expensive looking high tops. Neck tattoos peeked out from the t-shirt he had on. His hair was shaved short and he gave an intense, smouldering look to the camera.

  Olivia chuckled, “Nice. Wants to go into Law. Smexy choice, Sandra.”

  Sandra replied, “I don’t think he’s smexy. That would indicate intelligence and good life choices. I would guess he has little of both. He is in prison after all.”

  She continued, “But, I still think he’s kind of hot, though. I’d fuck him in the trailer.”

  “You mean in one of those conjugal sessions?”

  She looked at Olivia like she dropped a few intelligence points. “Is there any other kind? You think they have a five star dining establishment in- house where you can get dinner and a movie first?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Sandra laughed. “So, this Victor guy, would you consider him bangable?”

  “Yeah, I think he’s pretty hot.”

  “Well the next step then is to get out that pen and write to him!”

  “You mean you can’t just e-mail them?”

  “I’m afraid not. It’s very old school.”

  “I don’t know….”

  “Come on, Olivia, I dare you.”

  “Sandra, this is the dumbest drunken idea you’ve had in a while. Way worse than drunk dialing that douchebag ex of yours for a quick hook- up. He cheated on you. At his own family reunion. What kind of guy does that, anyway? You deserve better.”

  “It was his third cousin. It wasn’t direct family.”

  “In my honest opinion, still too close to home. A family tree should branch out more.”

  “Ok, Olivia, back to the topic. We should totally do this. I’ll write to my pick, and you write to yours. Let’s see what happens!”

  Olivia gave her friend a sour look. “Seriously, this is stupid. What good can possibly come out of this?”

  Sandra smiled at her. “Well, street cred for one. And if he gets out, he can easily get that job as roadie for that band you like or get you into that hot club he works at as a bouncer.”

  Olivia gave her a face. “Well, I don’t want him to get out. What if he tracks me down?”

  “They won’t. They don’t know where you live, unless, perhaps you want them to know. And most of them are in there for ten plus years anyway, so you’ll long have stopped writing to them and they will have forgotten about you by then. And in the meantime, you have a cool story to tell to your friends. People will either think you are a badass bitch for doing this dare in the first place or think you are being nice and doing it as a charitable act. Helping a guy in need when he is down. Either way, you’re winning.”

  “Some prize.”

  Sandra stuck her tongue out at Olivia, and filled out a few forms online to get them started.

  ҉҉҉

  So Olivia wrote her letter. And she got an answer back. The man in the profile wrote to her to say how grateful he was that she chose him to write to and how he genuinely wanted to know more about her. She wrote another letter back, thinking it would be rude and kind of cold of her to give him just one letter, and drop him. The desperate gratitude inked with every word on the short one page letter he sent guilted her into sending him another one. And he wrote her back again, thanking her for taking the time to write to him, and making him feel better about his day and life in general. It gladdened her heart to hear how she could make such a difference to someone by penning the random activities of her life in just a few short minutes of her day.

  It was causal at first, with Olivia telling Victor about her likes, and how she spent her day, and what bugged her at work. And he would reply as promptly as the system would l
et him, with a few kind words, some life affirming quotes and polite encouragement when she griped to him of the things that sucked in her life.

  About two months into their correspondence, he sent her a recent photo of himself. Olivia absentmindedly opened the letter from him, expecting another one page letter filled with small compliments and questions about how her life was going at present. The photo fell out of the folded paper and fluttered to the floor. As Olivia picked it up, she looked at it. And her heart skipped a few paces. He was standing shirtless, wearing nothing but a set of grey shorts and shoes in a relaxed pose on a basketball court, hands folded over his chest. And he was wicked cut. His body was toned and trained to the limits of male physical perfection. His thick arms bulged over his broad chest, partially obscuring a large tattoo on his left pectoral. Studying it, she thought it looked like a bald eagle, with its wings outspread. Patriotic. And she could see the tight muscle definition in his thighs, flexing as he leaned back against the wall of concrete. She imagined that body, on top of hers, working her over. She flushed a little, looked away and exhaled, then went back to the picture. Her eyes fixed onto his face. And those eyes. How they burned with laser precision at the camera, showing unwavering resilience. Determination. And pride.

  It was so much hotter than his profile picture. In that shot, he was more laidback, showing a friendly grin, and the image seemed blurrier to her memory. But not in this new one. Here, he was all intent, and focused strength. This picture was taken and sent specifically for her only. A hot thrill of desire for that man in the photo tore its way in her system like a jagged piece of glass firing through her body. She felt a second flush of heat as she put together a private fantasy. She thought of his large arms, pulling her into him, his chest and his masculine weight pressing against her body and his eyes, staring into hers with pure desire. Needing her. And in that moment, with his gaze penetrating into the depths of her spirit, and into her lonely simple life, she would give him whatever he wanted.

  He then he asked her for a photo of herself, which she enclosed in her next letter. She decided on one where she took her latest trip, which was a cruise in Alaska. Something not too revealing. In the picture she sent, she was standing alone, giving her best vacation smile in front of the docked cruise ship covered with a light fleece jacket and jeans. He told her she looked stunning. She was never called that before. Standing in front of the mirror, and looking at the extra pounds she had gained and failed to lose in the past year, she felt anything but stunning. And the wide, uncontrollable brown curls that framed her broad face made her appear chubbier in standard head shots. But she greedily took her compliments where she could find them.

  Words are powerful. They can be like open heart surgery. And over time, the letters Victor sent to her took hold. He asked her for more pictures, which she readily sent. He described all the sinful pleasures he would perform on her body. The intimate places he would touch with his hands and his tongue. As she read them, her stomach would tighten as she would clench internally and grow wet with desire. No one had ever wanted to do those things to her before. Dipping her fingers into her needy cleft, she would often imagine him there, touching and licking her as she would furiously work her slippery fingers hard inside her body and on her clit to jill herself off. Anxiously she awaited his letters, and her heart started to thump in her chest when her eyes locked on the familiar handwriting on the outside of a single slim white envelope, stamped with the overbearing institutional address that trapped and kept him from her.

  Then, one day, the unthinkable happened. Early parole for good behavior. After two years of writing back and forth, she had never plucked up the courage to actually go and visit him. And now he was leaving for good. And he asked for her to come to him.

  Of course, Olivia was nervous. Writing was one thing, but the reality of actually meeting him hit her nerves like a shockwave. Would he be different in real life than his letters? She steeled herself internally as she finally relented to his written wishes and agreed to pick him up.

  ҉҉҉

  He carried with him only a small black duffel bag when she met him for the first time. Victor was mostly quiet in their initial meeting, but he still had that determined intensity about him. And his eyes still had that same precision stare when they turned in her direction and raked her hungrily up and down. They displayed one pure focused emotion. Sex. There was no hiding the primal want he felt when his gaze shifted over her body. She saw it there, and in the way the hard lines of his face set itself, and in his bold swagger when he came towards her. He towered over her, the heat and the captivating masculine scent of him washed over her and sent an electric pulse straight to her core. He was solid muscle, dangerous and all dominant male brute strength. His biceps stretched the sleeves of the t-shirt he wore, now a few sizes too small for him. Rugged dark stubble grazed his face around the square jaw. His mouth was a firm line etched across his face, revealing a hint of a smile. Olivia was almost to the point of throwing herself on him in a brief fake hug gesture to feel the sculpted solid body that almost busted the fabric of his shirt open to the seams. She felt the wetness of her lust for him cling to her panties as she stole a long slow glance at him in return. She gave him a clumsy nervous smile back as they walked silently to her car.

  They got into her Chevy SUV as Victor pushed back the seat in the passenger side.

  “Nice. Roomy,” he grunted in approval.

  “Thanks. Where would you like to go first?” she asked him.

  “Home. Where home is for you. I could use a nap. You never sleep well back there. Almost always a reason to keep one eye open in a place like that.”

  “Umm, ok. You don’t want or visit a friend first or something?”

  “No,” he replied, “There’s time enough for that later. Right now, I want to spend some quality time with you.”

  Victor laid his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for three minutes. With nothing but awkward silence, Olivia felt the need to start in on some general conversation.

  “So, uhhmm, how are you?” Olivia asked.

  “Fine, now that you’re here,” he said. He turned his head briefly to look at her and grinned. Then he went back to resting state.

  Well, duh, Olivia, she thought to herself. More silence.

  She began again. “So, ahh prison, it’s a pretty rough place?”

  “Yup.” He said it while still lying back with his eyes closed.

  “You were treated ok in there, weren’t you?” she asked.

  “Sometimes,” he said, “Sometimes people would just want to give you the shank.”

  “Ohhh,” she trailed away. “You never told me too much about your family. Or friends. Or really why you were there in the first place. You did mention that you had a brother. Want to tell me a bit more about yourself?”

  “In due time. It’s a long story. Right now, I just want to enjoy these moments with you.”

  “Oh. Ok,” she said as she stared at the road in front of her.

  “Why don’t you tell me about you? I’d rather hear about you, than rehash all the shit I’ve been through. I want to be done with that for a little while, now that I’m out,” he said.

  “I don’t know, I’m sure you think my life is pretty boring. I’m pretty ordinary. Probably not very interesting coming from your perspective,” Olivia stated shyly.

  “I love hearing about your life. And it never bored me. There is an innocence about you that I can never get back in my own life. Never lose that.”

  “Well….., I went shopping yesterday with a friend of mine. Then dinner,” she opened.

  “What did you buy?” he asked. He smiled at her response as he lay still in the same position, eyes closed, head resting back on the seat.

  “Some clothes. A dress. Some slingback shoes. Then my favorite Italian place for pasta.”

  “Hmmm. Nice. You can model them for me. I bet you look beautiful in them. You look beautiful now.”

  “Uhhh
, thanks. You’re in pretty good shape,.. if I can admit that to you..,” she mumbled nervously.

  “You can admit anything you want to me, hon,” he replied. “So what color is that dress? And those shoes? Describe them to me.”

  “The dress is a halter top, and comes up to about my knees. Black, with a black and silver belt. Black is slimming, you know. It makes you look like you’re 15 pounds lighter. At least, I think it does. And the shoes are grey metallic, with some beading on the straps.”

  “Nice. But I don’t think you need to look thinner. You have all the right things in all the right places, if you ask me. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of curve.”

  They spent the next five minutes in relative silence. Then she chatted about her recent girl’s weekend out trip to Vegas. Victor listened attentively to her as she described her recent exploits to him.

  “Sounds nice. I haven’t been to Vegas in years. I like it there. Maybe someday, we’ll go there together.”

  Olivia slowed the car as she pulled up to the driveway of her small bungalow. She parked her SUV in the driveway, turned to him and said nervously, “Ok, we’re here.”

  Victor opened his eyes and stretched before getting out of her vehicle. His brow furrowed as he looked on at her house, and then at her. He gave her a warm smile, to calm down her nerves.

  They both walked up to the front step together. Her hands shook a little as she took the keys to the house to unlock the door. His hand wrapped over hers. She heard his deep voice rumble in her ear, “I can tell you’re still really nervous. Don’t be. I realize meeting someone in person is different than just writing to someone. We’ve gotten to know each other over two years. I know I come from a hard place, where men can be unpredictable, and cruel. Just know that I will never be like that to you. I truly appreciate you, after all you’ve done for me.”