Read Steel Love: Alpha BBW Motorcycle Romance Online

Authors: P.J. Rider

Tags: #romance, #Alpha Male, #biker, #firsts

Steel Love: Alpha BBW Motorcycle Romance (2 page)

Standing on her parent’s front porch now Maggie remembered that weightless feeling as she stepped off the bus and onto the streets of her hometown. The town that fostered, what she’d always believed to be, a strong independent feminist woman. A woman she didn’t recognize in the mirror these days. But that wouldn’t last forever. Soon Maggie would see her again, and walking away from Reef that night was the start of her transformation back. Back to the girl who would have rather slit her own throat then allow a man to lay a hand on her in anything but love and reverence.

Her eyes scanned the street out front for the third time. She developed the habit in the last three months of keeping watch. She hadn’t slept for nearly forty-eight hours when she first arrived. Maggie would sit either at the window in her old room on the second floor with her father sleeping down the hall, on the couch in the front parlor, or here on the porch in one of the old rocking chairs. She would sit for hours at a time, her eyes moving back and forth, seeking out that four-door coupe with the blond hair in the driver’s seat.

She stood there scanning the street out front when she noticed the motorcycle three houses down. She hadn’t spotted it before, maybe a parked car had blocked it, but now Maggie began to realize that not only was there a motorcycle parked in front of Mr. Jacob’s house but there was a man sitting on the bike as well.

A bulky figure hunched over, wearing black leather, with a shaggy crop of dark hair, and shadowed eyes above a beard that looked to be the product of a few months growth. His body seemed tight as a spring, and he held himself like he was flexing the muscles of his back. His arms stretched out ahead of him, hands gripping the handlebars like a lifeline.

Maggie contemplated the strangeness of a person sitting out in the rain when she realized that the figure on the bike was actually watching her. A chill ran down her spine as their eyes locked.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed with them staring at each other but she jumped when the sound of the bike starting echoed through the neighborhood bouncing off houses and slamming into her ears. The bike moved down the street heading toward her parent’s home. The rider watched her as he sped past until finally turning a corner and moving out of site.

Shit… Had Reef hired someone to spy on her? Was that it? Never in a million years would Maggie believe Reef would bring anyone else into this. He wouldn’t want anyone to know he couldn’t keep control of her. Wouldn’t want anyone to believe they didn’t exist in a perfect bubble where he was the man of the hour and Maggie was his trophy wife draped beautifully over his arm, ever ready, ever willing, ever at attention for the slightest direction from him.

Maggie took one last look down the street in the direction the motorcycle had gone, the goose flesh of her arms slowly dissipating. Everything would be ok. Maggie had to keep repeating it in her mind. Mantras to calm her nerves and straighten her spine; everything would be ok, and no one would ever hurt her again.

She walked into the house rubbing her arms after standing on the cold wet windy porch and took note of the leaves that had snuck through the door before she could shut them out. She purposefully left the wet leaves at the threshold of the parlor as she moved toward the back of the house. Part of her rehabilitation was leaving a mess for a while before cleaning it up. It wasn’t that she wanted to live in a dirty house. She just enjoyed the freedom of not giving a damn. How long had she lived in fear of a smudge that could summon a slap in the blink of an eye?

Maggie moved into the kitchen inhaling the sense memory of her mother standing at the island whisking something sweet in a bowl. Her mother had been a big woman with thick muscled hips and thighs, a soft belly, and full breasts. Maggie got her pale skin and dark curly corkscrew hair from her father’s Irish roots, but her body came from mom. She was slightly taller and her breasts were definitely bigger than her mother’s had been but all in all her body was a spitting image of mom’s.

The kitchen was dressed in cream and pale greens. The 1950’s retro fridge, stove, and oven were a buttery yellow color. Maggie’s mother, Anna Quirke, had always loved vintage furniture and the kitchen remake had been her father’s anniversary present to her the year before she passed. Anna had been a fabulous cook, but the only time she baked was when she was sad or stressed out. Once Maggie figured that out it became less and less of a happy treat and more of a bad omen.

As Maggie got older her mother’s baking habits waned. She supposed it had to do with her dad taking the job at the local library when she was 5. She was never exactly clear about what it was he’d done before he started work at the library but it had kept him away from home often and kept her mother in a constant state of baking frenzy. Thankfully her dad figured it out and came home.

Whatever captured his interest when Maggie was a toddler did not touch his passion for books. When her dad finally realized the damage he was doing to his family, he chose to make the change to save it, and started his career with the local library. Maggie would be forever grateful for her father’s final career choice as his love of books fostered her own passion for literature.

Maggie brought her thoughts back to the present moment and the smells of the kitchen. It was as if the wood block of the old island had absorbed every ounce of flour and sugar that graced it’s well-loved surface and held on to those smells knowing she would need them some day.

Maggie noticed the light on the answering machine blinking and crossed the kitchen to check the messages. It was the call from Mrs. Lahey at the library. Mrs. Lahey had received Maggie’s message about staying in town and wanted to offer her the reference desk position. She went on to say they’d been really short staffed since her father took sick leave and they couldn’t imagine anyone but Maggie taking his place.

Maggie felt her shoulders drop at the news. The tension that had been building in her since her father’s passing and the realization that she was on her own and responsible for herself released. Finally she would be able to use her degree in library sciences and get some use out of this life.

Reef hadn’t wanted her to work after finishing her degree. It was the first of many acts of control he slowly and strategically set upon her life building up a wall around her. He was so good at his manipulation Maggie hadn’t noticed the bricks until the wall was too high for her to see over.

Now was her chance to start life over. Maggie could live and work in the only place she’d ever truly felt at home. She would be able to support herself, take care of her parent’s home, and eventually live the life she deserved.

As Maggie reached for the phone to call Mrs. Lahey back and smiled in anticipation of the days to come. This was the first time she felt hope in
years
. When her fingers wrapped around the handle of the old rotary phone the last of her nerves from seeing the motorcycle and its strange rider left her system.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

ASH

 

 

Ash sat at his usual table in the furthest darkest corner of the bar. As far from the front door and windows as he could get. Far from the neon lights, pool tables, and juke box. He sat with his chair canted back head resting against the wall staring up at the ceiling. The smell of pot, cigarettes, and Johnnie Walker hung in the air thick and damp. The music from the jukebox, some sad sack song from the band Brand New, mixed with the voices, laughter, and cue smacking against the other balls on the pool table.

The smells and noises were like a second skin to Ash. Like his crib language it spoke to a part of him that he wasn’t even aware of. The only other place on this earth he was more comfortable was with a roaring steel monster between his legs and the world speeding by.

Ash rocked on the back legs of the chair letting his head knock against the wall. He couldn’t get that fucking image of Maggie Quirke out of his head. That curly black hair that hung halfway down her back and flew around her face and shoulders in the wind. The rain had drizzled down finding its way between his neck and leather to slide slick down his spine. Unfortunately, no amount of cold water could extinguish the fire in his gut from seeing Maggie standing there.

Jack, the president of the Steel Breed MC, the motorcycle club Ash called his true family, had called Ash into his office to request a personal favor. A favor for a friend of the club. Jack wanted Ash to keep an eye on Maggie Quirke. His directions hadn’t been much clearer than that. Just watch out for her, keep tabs on her, and make sure she didn’t get into any trouble.

The only other background information Jack would give him was that she’d recently left an abusive husband. Ash was being given an opportunity to prove himself to Jack. An opportunity no one serious about the MC would disregard.

Ash’s own stepfather used to smack his mom around before Ash had gotten big enough to step between them. Then his stepfather smacked him around until Ash was big enough to smack him back, and then he got his mother out of there.

Ash started out making his money on the street stealing cars and selling pot. He’d managed to stay under the radar of the cops and keep his mom in a small one-bedroom apartment. His mom slept in the bedroom and Ash would crash on the shitty couch in the living room. Ash’s consolation was at least they were safe and no longer afraid to sleep.

At seventeen he fell into the cross hairs of the Steel Breed. Ash was so young and goddamned stupid he never realized there were
rules
about what he was doing. Like the fact that the Steel Breed owned those streets and
they
were the ones who decided who could and couldn’t sell or steal in those neighborhoods.

Jack scared the shit out of Ash one night with a blade and a promise of lost testicles if Ash didn’t quit dicking around. Once Ash respectfully promised to stop all hustle in the upper heights neighborhoods Jack had turned around and offered him a job slinging for the club. Ash was so damn grateful he still had his balls he was willing to take any offer Jack made.

A few years later Ash had his own bike and a position as the newest prospect for the Steel Breed MC. When he turned twenty-one they patched him in as an official member. Now at the ripe age of thirty Ash was Vice President of the Steel Breed Motorcycle Club and Jack’s protégés. His mom had a home of her own that Ash paid for and he kept a studio apartment down the street from the club. Life was going great, and then Jack asked him to watch over Maggie.

Her father died about a week after Jack asked him to take the job. The funeral looked fairly small. Not that he’d really
been
there. At the funeral Ash stood far enough away from the service not to be seen but still able to keep an eye out. He leaned against a giant statue of an angel over what he assumed was some rich old bastard’s grave.

Ash watched Maggie Quirke standing at the grave site, but her hair had been up in a bun plus she’d been wearing a hat AND holding an umbrella so he really couldn’t get a good look at her. A few days later Ash sat parked a few houses down checking out her home and neighborhood when Maggie- stepped onto the porch. Maggie stood there with this look on her face staring out at the rain with that
hair
flying around her. Those eyes that said everything in her life was changed and nothing would ever be the same and if Ash was a man capable of it he might have fucking cried right there.

As it was, he’d sat on his bike staring at her until she shook herself out of whatever dark reverie had taken over and started looking up and down the street. Maggie appeared to be looking for something. Or someone.

Then she’d seen him. The moment her eyes locked on him Ash felt a lightning bolt blast right through his damn gut and he couldn’t look away. How professional is that? Jack asks him to keep an eye on this girl and the first time Ash sees her he’s so fucking hard his dick was ready to rip through his jeans.

Her father was probably rolling in his grave right this minute knowing Ash was even thinking about her. God, he had to stop thinking about her. He shifted his weight and let the front legs of his chair slam back to the ground. He pushed his hand through his dark hair pulling just enough to make sure he was still awake and alive and not stuck in the day dream of Maggie fucking Quirke.

The noise of his chair hitting the cement floor attracted one of the MC’s sweet butts. Jamie was a blond thing with nice enough tits, sitting on a stool, flirting with the bartender. She’d always sort of kept herself available to him. Anytime the MC hosted a get together that was open to the extras she’d be there and you better fucking believe she’d be all over his dick. Ash figured he couldn’t expect more from a low level bitch looking to score a few points with a favorite of the President.

It wasn’t that Ash didn’t appreciate the infrequent blowjob from a pretty face with decent tits; it was just that she wouldn’t stop
looking
at him. It turned into a weird sixth sense. Anytime Ash was in a room and felt the hair on the back of his neck stick up he would look around and sure enough there would be Jamie, staring at him from across the room. She’d always smile and wave and if Ash smiled back she’d come over to sit on his lap and purr in his ear and he’d be guaranteed a blowjob. If Ash didn’t smile at her she wouldn’t come over, but it was the responsibility of having to acknowledge her existence that bothered the shit out of him. Why did she have to be obsessed with
him
?

And now this business with Maggie… what the hell was he going to do about that? Maggie was nothing like these girls. She wasn’t a hanger on. She was brought up right, respectable, had a fucking college degree. She was a librarian for crying out loud, and didn’t that just make his balls tighten up. He could thank Jack for that little bit of information. According to Jack Maggie had planned on following in her father’s footsteps and gotten a degree in library sciences. The word was she would be taking over her father’s position at the library

The idea of that thick curly black hair twisted up into a bun, glasses parked jauntily on her nose, reaching up to shelve a book and maybe her skirt would ride up just enough to show the top of a pair of black silk thigh highs. He wanted to walk up behind her and pull that bun out, watch her hair cascade down her back. Ash bet she had a luscious ass. JESUS why was he thinking about this? He needed to get her out of his head and the only way to do that was to get his damn rocks off.

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