Ignition (BBW Alpha Male MC Biker Romance)

BOOK: Ignition (BBW Alpha Male MC Biker Romance)
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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

to leave a review or share with
others!

  

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 let 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.

BOOK: Ignition (BBW Alpha Male MC Biker Romance)
11.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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