Ignite (The Disciples Book 4) Read online

  Copyright © 2020

  IGNITE by Cassandra Robbins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or scanned in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the need of quotes for reviews only.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used to provide authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Edited: Nikki Busch Editing

  Cover Design: Michele Catalano Creative

  Formatting: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

  Cover Photo: Michelle Lancaster

  Cover Model: JJ Michaels

  Tattoo Artist: Mathew Franklin

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Want More?

  Other Books by Cassandra Robbins

  Connect

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To my girls.

  You know who you are. I couldn’t do what I do without you.

  AXEL

  Los Angeles, CA

  My dick is vibrating. And not the fun kind of way. No, this is the annoying cell phone way.

  I never have this problem because everyone knows I hate phones. I don’t get calls. I’m not that man. I get texts asking me to answer; then I decide if they’re worth it. The nonstop buzzing from the clubhouse to the Pussycat is not making me happy. Fuck it, let’s be honest: none of this makes me happy.

  “Jesus Christ.” The vibrating has started again. I look over my shoulder as I back my bike into my designated spot.

  Derrick, our manager at the Pussycat, is getting his knee fixed. He’s supposed to be on drugs, not disturbing me with nonstop phone calls.

  I take a breath and try to get rid of my negative attitude. It’s not even Derrick I’m pissed at. It’s fucking Edge. He and Dolly had to pick this week, this moment to go on a honeymoon or some shit? Edge knows how Derrick is…

  Turning off my bike, I pull out the device. “What?”

  “Please tell me you’re there?” Derrick’s calm but annoyingly responsible voice drifts into my ear.

  “It’s fucking eight a.m. Aren’t you supposed to be in surgery, man?”

  “I’ve been waiting for two hours. Apparently they’re running late. And just so you know, I’ve been doing those hours for years. Now listen…” I want to groan. How many times do I have to hear Derrick say the same thing over and over? His martyr complex is getting old, especially since he loves his job. Loves getting up early and working all night. Blade and I pay him a fortune, and he also gets a percentage. The man is making more than when he was a professional wrestler.

  “You need to get in there and make sure Crystal is nice. You know how she is. I spent a lot of time building that club—”

  “Derrick, get sedated. I’m here. Don’t worry your pretty head.” I scrub my hand up and down my face already dreading the next two weeks or so.

  I’m all alone.

  Fucking Edge.

  I glance around the parking lot. It’s nearly deserted, besides the bright red mustang parked in another manager spot. I have to fight the urge not to get back on my bike and ride in the other direction.

  I’m not alone.

  Nope. I have Crystal with me. I can barely tolerate her sucking my cock once in a great while. Having to work with her? Christ. I toss my helmet onto the handlebars and pocket the keys. Sweat drips down my back, the sun already baking me. My black T-shirt and leather cut suck in the morning heat.

  “Don’t worry about Crystal. I can handle her.” Silence fills my ear and I’m about to hang up when he says, “Axel. She’s different with the girls, plays favorites. And with Georgia Peach running off, we’re short.”

  “Relax, man.” I lean my head back, close my eyes, and let the morning sun beat down on my face as I count three, two, one. It helps.

  “Do we need to go over today?”

  Then again, maybe it doesn’t. I inhale slowly and exhale. Patience is not my strong suit.

  “It’s fucking auditions, Derrick. I think I can handle spotting great tits and ass.”

  “That’s exactly what scares me.”

  I’m on autopilot listening to Derrick and his OCD list as I walk to the side entrance of the club. This is where all the VIPs and celebrities come in.

  People fascinate me. They have this need to talk. I’m not even responding to Derrick. I could set my phone down and he wouldn’t realize I was gone for a half hour, maybe more.

  Glancing around, I take in Downtown LA and marvel at Blade’s and my luck. We bought the Pussycat years ago, right when they were cleaning up certain areas. This particular spot was a dump, but I had a feeling. We bought it cheap, gave it a facelift. Now it’s nothing but a goldmine and 100 percent legal.

  I reach for the black handle right as Manuel, one of our daytime bar backs, swings the door open.

  His eyes grow huge when he sees he’s almost hit me in the face. Personally, I wish he had. At least I’d be able to get off the phone.

  “Axel, sorry.” He freezes.

  The smell of alcohol and garbage from the two trash bins he’s rolling out fills the air. I nod at him and hold the door as I motion for him to continue. Walking inside, I give my eyes a second to adjust from the sun.

  “Axel. Are you even listening?” Before I can respond, he’s talking again. “I run a tight ship. I consider our club more than a strip joint—it’s the best strip joint. Our girls are gorgeous and sensual. They can dance and still look like they could walk the catwalk.”

  I snort because now he’s getting carried away. We do have nice-looking snatch, but walking the runway?

  “What the fuck?” It smells like a bar and I’m barely inside. Now this is unacceptable. We’re full nude. Walking in and smelling booze needs to be addressed, not tits and ass. If a cop were to walk by, this would require a huge bribe.

  “I have shit to deal with. I’m getting off the phone.”

  “Wait! What’s happening? Don’t say fuck and shit—” His voice is loud.

  And I’m done. I end the call. Derrick knows me. As soon as they sedate him, he’ll be fine. I’ve humored him enough. Heads are gonna roll if this place doesn’t smell like bleach soon. The inside of The Pussycat is a whole different beast in the morning. The leather booths need to be buffed. The candy-red apple looks faded, and we had them replaced recently. Th
e floors that we spent a fortune on because Derrick wanted Italian marble are filthy with spilled drinks. My boots stick to the floor and I grit my teeth.

  The only thing that looks clean is the stage. The large oval has three poles. All three have been shined and are sparkling. The black dance floor is also spotless and smells of Pine-Sol.

  “Pete?” My voice echoes around the club.

  I’m also not putting up with any of the club’s girl drama. I’m not Derrick. He’s terrified of upsetting and losing one, so he babies them. That’s fine—it works for him.

  Not for me.

  They can go whine to Crystal that I’m a dick or call Derrick. I don’t care as long as they show up on time, swirl around a pole, and rub their asses on whoever can afford it. They do that, we’ll all get along perfect. Music starts and stops. DJ Mac must be warming up.

  Peter rounds the corner with a bucket and mop. The smell of bleach is so strong I have to blink for a second. His old man is a Disciple. Peter never wanted to follow in his footsteps, which is good. He doesn’t have the stomach for the life.

  “Hey, brother.” We fist bump.

  “I’m making changes. I need you and your crew in here earlier and staying later. Hire more guys, I don’t care. Those mats need to be sprayed and bleached, floor cleaned before we lock up at night.” I motion to the black rubber on the floor. “I smell booze, man. That can’t happen.”

  He clears his throat. “Derrick fired one of my guys. When I asked him if I can hire another he said wait until he gets back from his surgery.”

  “Hire today and let me know how many you need. I’ll deal with Derrick.”

  He wipes his brow and nods. “Will do, Axel.”

  “Good and give yourself a raise,” I say over my shoulder as I walk toward the stairs.

  “You sure?”

  I stop at the first step and turn. “Absolutely. I’d rather pay you and your crew than have to pad the fucking cops’ pockets. Make sure I smell nothing but bleach when we close and open.”

  “You got it, boss.” Peter takes out his phone.

  I take the stairs two at a time, stopping at the top. “Christ.” I almost put my sunglasses back on. The entire upstairs is lit up like Christmas vacation.

  “Why the hell are all the house lights on?” I yell over the music that seems to be going on and off from the sound system.

  “Hey, Axel.” Deedee comes over, looking like she hasn’t gone to bed yet.

  “I need coffee. Is Crystal here?” I bark at her, getting more pissed as the seconds tick by. Why does it seem like no one is doing their job right?

  “Umm, yes.” She yawns, not even covering her mouth.

  “Get her.”

  Her mouth snaps shut. “She’s finishing her pep talk with the new girls… well, the talent… the…” I arch a dark brow at her and she thankfully stops rambling.

  “And tell Mac to leave the stage lights on, but dim the rest. I feel like I need sunscreen it’s so bright.” I drop into a chair.

  “On it.” She spins so fast she almost topples over. That’s all I need is one of the girls to get injured on day one. I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “You okay?”

  “Sorry,” she whispers and sits at the table placing her notepad on top. She crosses her leg to rub her ankle. Her large fake boobs nearly spill out of her slip of a dress.

  “Crystal?” I bellow as my eyes scan the VIP area. Thank fuck it looks clean and the smell of booze from downstairs is undetectable up here. The upstairs is a huge moneymaker. It’s designed so that all booths can see the stage and the downstairs stage.

  Someone has set up a card table like we’re getting ready to judge a beauty contest. A line of aluminum chairs face the stage.

  “I’m coming, keep your panties on.” Crystal sashays out of the side dressing room with the girls trailing behind her.

  “I’m only one person. I can’t be in ten places at once,” she snips, dropping down next to me. Her perfume would be fine if she didn’t douse herself in it.

  I almost laugh at her. Crystal at her best is tolerable. At her worst, she can be a fucking cunt. But I guess she’s trying and at this point I need her.

  I cock my head at her. “Coffee. Get me some.”

  She ignores me and pulls out her phone. Looking every bit the queen bee of all strippers, she’s dressed in a leopard-print catsuit with black high-heeled stilettos. “I’ve been here since six a.m.” She glares at me as if that should explain everything.

  “Does that mean you’re not getting me coffee?”

  “God, Axel.” She rolls her eyes like I’m such an ass, then snaps her fingers at Deedee.

  Crystal used to be Chuckie’s girl and Blade’s whore. She’s our oldest stripper. So instead of taking away her stripes, we made her a manager. Train the girls, do the schedule, handle all the shit I have no desire to do or know about.

  “Coffee,” I demand. “Who the fuck is gonna get me a venti Pike?”

  “I’m here.” Destiny comes barreling up the stairs, panting like she’s been doing a marathon. She carries a huge box of Pete’s Coffee and a mug saying “World’s Best Boss” for me in her other hand.

  “I’m so sorry. I had to go back to my place because I forgot this.” She holds up the white mug. “I bought it for you.” She stops in front of me, her brown eyes full of adoration.

  I grin and take it from her. I’m sure she’s too young to know that she bought me the mug Steve Carell used in The Office. Poor Destiny. If she only knew that the character who used the mug was a moron.

  “Thanks. I love it, darlin’.” She lets out an excited squeal and pours some coffee into it.

  Nodding, I ask, “How long is this gonna take? I have business to finish before I come back tonight.” Destiny and Crystal look at each other.

  “What?” I sip the bitter dark coffee and light up a cigarette. Besides sex, this is my second favorite thing to do in the morning.

  “Axel, we have no idea how long this will take. You can’t rush these things.” Crystal puts one elbow on the table so that she can turn to face me. Her flowery perfume is too much—not even my cigarette can conquer it.

  “Some girls are easy to spot. They’re masters at eating up the pole.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” She opens her mouth to respond, but I barrel over her. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just start.” I set my coffee down, clenching my teeth on my cigarette.

  She huffs and straightens her clipboard. “I want you to know that I’m taking my managerial position in this magnificent place seriously.” She glares at me like I’m not.

  “I don’t care, Crystal. If you don’t—” She sighs and takes my cigarette.

  My cigarette.

  No one gets to smoke my cigarette. I’m not a sharing guy.

  “What?” She takes a huge drag. “Oh, for God’s sakes.” Smoke escapes through her nostrils as she rolls her eyes and thrusts the cigarette, now covered in gooey red lipstick, at me.

  “Keep it.” Impatient, I reach into my pocket for another. “Is Ripper here yet?”

  “Yes, I think he’s with Porsche.” Destiny demurely sits down to my right smoothing her hands on her short black skirt. I eye her and lean back in my chair, propping my feet on the table.

  “Ripper?” I bellow.

  “Yo.” It’s not far away. My head swivels to the right. Sure enough, I spot his blond hair in a dark corner of the club.

  “Hurry the fuck up. Something tells me this is going to be a long day.”

  Crystal frowns. “Rude.”

  “Whatever. Let’s do this.” I motion with my finger.

  “Axel?” Destiny caresses my arm like I’m some kind of king. “Do you need me to blow you?” She slithers to the floor. Her hand roughly rubs my cock through my jeans. “I’ll take your big cock halfway down my throat.” She licks her lips.

  “Start the music, Mac,” I growl.

  AXEL

  “Testing, one, two.” DJ
Mac’s voice echoes through the room. My eyes follow Destiny’s hands as they leave my erection to squeeze her fake tits. I shouldn’t let her. Destiny is getting attached. She’s an excellent stripper, but I’ll never be with one woman. And the way she’s looking at me says she’s starting to hope.

  “Twist your nipples,” I grunt.

  She obeys, and her long nails pinch them making them stand erect through her tight dress. Fuck it, no one’s perfect, and I deserve a release.

  “Mac.” My eyes never leave her nipples as she continues to play with them. “If you play ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ this early in the morning, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” The music comes to a halt as Destiny unzips me.

  “Let me help you relax, baby,” she coos.

  “Don’t talk.” I grab the back of her head.

  She grins like a satisfied cat. Her glossed-up lips shine in the lights. I wrap my hands in her hair. The black strands feel dry and brittle.

  “God, you do have the biggest cock,” she groans.

  “Suck.” I push her head down. She keeps her word, going straight to deep throating me. “Yeah, that’s it.” I lean my head back. Her loud moans as she gags on me along with the sucking sounds make me get harder.

  She’s not lying.

  I, Mitchell Axel Fontaine have been blessed with a giant cock. I grunt my approval as she continues to gag on me.

  “Wow. Just wow.” Crystal’s voice makes her sound like an annoying mother-in-law.

  “I’m trying to run a classy place and look at you. Jesus, Axel, anyone can see.” Her nagging causes me to open one eye.

  “Then reach down and caress my balls if you want me to come faster. If not, shut the fuck up.” I guide Destiny’s dark head to go faster.

  “Jesus, that’s it suck…” My stomach muscles bunch up.

  “I’m only doing this because we need to get started.” Crystal’s hands reach over to massage my balls and that’s all it takes for me to jet off into Destiny’s warm mouth.

  “Swallow all of it,” I say, watching Destiny suck me dry. She pops off, a big smile on her face as she looks at my hard cock. That’s another one of my great attributes. My cock stays hard after I come. If I cared enough about anyone, I could get them off plenty of times.