Aces And Eights Motorcycle Ride Novels & Stories

She was broke, desperate, her sister dying in a coma, when she rode a stranger in a private bar room until he saw stars and paid her triple. He kept his thin glasses on the whole time she was soaked and shaking on top of him. A week later that same man became her boss. Now he owns her desk by day and spreads her thighs every night, making her drip for the only cock that ever ruined her properly. Her cheating ex and backstabbing best friend work down the hall. Loan sharks still hunt her. Old ghosts claw at the door. She swore no man would ever buy her dignity again...yet every time he buries himself deep and growls her name she comes harder, wetter, more his. And

"Let's go." "You're riding with me?" he asked. I huffed, buckling my helmet. "Of course." --- The eastern roads we were using ran for four miles — two miles of open straight where he could open the throttle fully and a series of switchbacks that would let me feel how the bike handled under real pressure. It wasn't the official race course but it had the same bones and Draven knew every inch of it. I knew it from the map I'd been studying for two weeks.

Mine was white, because it was Ace's spare one, incase his skull one broke. I picked up speed as we turned a corner, passing Ace's bike within seconds. I could hear the wind zipping past my head as I drove against the wind. Ace lived up in the mountains, so it was always pretty windy, except for summer. I watched Ace's bike almost lift from the ground as he flew by me. That man truly had no fear of death; He was playing with god. Fearless. "Slow down," I mumbled into the microphone, that allowed us to speak to each-other.

The dimples man, it's all about them," he said as he continued laughing. "Whatever," Kai said and got on the red one as Nick stomped his cigarette and got onto the black one. I climbed onto the motorcycle and Jake passed me his helmet, "safety first." Kai shouted from besides him, "Lead the way dimple boy, we don't have all day." Jake chuckled before turning on the ignition and speeding off onto the main road with the others closely behind.

She tapped his shoulders and walked away. She smiled when she saw her red Panigale V4 R big bike. Itsuki brought it for her, as she rode in his car earlier. The servants, and most especially Marcus, can't see her, that she can ride a big bike. He might get intrigued by her identity. She immediately rode on her motorcycle and roared the engine.

He said while grinning. My heart was pounding. He was teasing me. "Fine! Take me home." I rolled my eyes and pouted. He chuckled. We went out and walked towards his motorcycle after Kyle made sure my car was parked correctly. "Wait. You're making me ride in this?" I asked, pointing at his motorcycle. "Well, I didn't use a car princess so yes you'll ride in this. Come on and wear this." He said while handing me his helmet. He rode and started his bike's engine. It was a Ducati Desmosedici D16RR NCR M16 which cost around $235,000. This is one of the most expensive motorcycles in the world. Did he get rich in just a year? I wondered.

“Gonna be a long ride.” The night was alive with the rumble of engines as we rolled out of the clubhouse parking lot, the dim glow of the streetlights flickering over our convoy like a strobe. The Warriors rode in tight formation, our bikes a unified force slicing through the quiet streets. Behind us, Viktor’s SUVs followed like silent predators.

He realized she was no longer going and drove off. Anxious, she kept waiting and shaking. After five minutes, Axel showed up and pulled his sleeve. “Hop on.” He said, grabbing her bag. The last time she rode on Axel's motorcycle was when she was nine. “Let's go for a drive. Nobody will see us.” He had said. And they were having a drive again. She placed her hands round his waist as he rode. They finally got back to the house. Blaze and Jace were standing guard at the door, more like they were waiting for them.

Not anymore. The growl of our engines shattered the hush. We didn’t roll in quietly. We didn’t slip through the gates like cowards. We came like war. Black motorcycles tore through the front estate gates in a thunderous, unified roar. Seven bikes. Eight riders. Tires grinding against manicured gravel. Smoke curling around our frames like ghosts. Guests screamed. Tables toppled. Champagne spilled. White petals caught in the wind and scattered like ashes.

Harry was riding his motorcycle like a man in a trance. He doesn't look right or left and just overtakes cars and other vehicles in front. It seems like there are nine lives today like a cat that is said to have many lives. He also didn't have the courage to pass a large truck operating at night.