Novel & Cerita Best Biker Romance Books

I lose my smile, thinking this. No domme worth her salt loses control of the situation. Out loud I say, “Thank you for your assistance, but I’m not the kind of woman who needs others to interfere in her business. And I’m definitely not the kind of woman who needs rescued.” As I speak, I keep my voice blunt. Harsh, almost. The same tone I used with Greaser Boy. But, to my surprise, my savior doesn’t react badly. He simply bows and takes my hand in his. Held there like I’m his Queen, and he’s my knight, he kisses my hand.

Every time I moved, the fabric brushed against them, sending sparks straight to my clit. I couldn’t stop watching Damien who stood near the railing on the upper deck, whiskey glass in hand, looking like a dark god surveying his kingdom. The black shirt was completely unbuttoned now, revealing the hard planes of his chest and abs. His icy-blue eyes kept finding me across the crowd. Every single time our gazes locked, my pussy clenched and more juice leaked down my thighs. I was losing my mind.

I bit my lip to silence a moan, my hips rolling instinctively against Tristan's. Tristan groaned, making my reaction for desire. "There you are," he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts. His thumbs brushed over my hardened nipples and I arched into his touch, my mind still lost in fantasies of another man. "F*ck, you're responsive tonight," His voice was rough.

She stopped and stared as it slowed, almost coming to a stop right beside her. She covered her mouth with her gloved hand, biting on a knuckle to refrain from screaming. Her heart raced, her stomach twisted, and her chest tightened until she couldn't breathe. Don't pass out. Her legs felt like jelly and her knees trembled. She gaped at the rider who sat on the bike as if he'd been born there. Anyone could see he had lots of miles under his belt. His huge red helmet had a tinted face guard so she couldn't see his face. He wore jeans and worn cowboy boots. His leather bomber jacket covered most of a black plaid flannel shirt. She sensed him. She knew in her heart. Dillon was back.

She heard the words his mind had screamed into hers as their bodies continued to war with one another for dominance in the wake of their mutual release. MATE It had said over and over again. MATE MATE That's what she'd been to him, the mysterious biker man who had come into her life on a whim. Brick grunted as he maneuvered her in bed rolling her onto her belly as he pulled back and his massive cock dangled between his thighs hot and sticky from their previous joining before he impaled her from behind, his large rough, and strong hands moving along her smooth bare flesh questing and gripping her with ease as she moaned face first into the nearby pillows taking the pummeling his massive cock

“For once, I’m not the pathetic one. People actually look at me now, not through me.” Blue’s eyes softened for a second, but only a second. “Because I love you, River and loving you means not cheering you on while you walk into a damn lion’s den with a smile.” Tears burned the back of my throat. “He’s not like that.” “Oh, come on,” she scoffed, throwing her hands up. “The biker leader of SGBC? The one who burned down a rival bar because someone insulted his crew? That guy? You think he’s gonna buy you flowers and walk you to brunch?”

Even over the music, the tension is crackling, electric, a live wire ready to snap. And my wolf; traitorous, relentless, thrashes inside me, demanding I close the distance. Demanding I taste him, even as my brain screams no. ~~ Then it happens. A hand snakes around my waist, yanking me off balance. I whip around, ready to break fingers, and come face-to-face with a drunken human biker. His breath stinks of beer and bad teeth, his grin wide and leering. “Didn’t know they let pretty little things like you hang with the dogs,” he slurs, lips grazing my ear. “How about you come play with me instead?”

I retort,giving her a mocking smile. “ Don't act all mighty before me. You wouldn't know if your so called boyfriend is fucking some other women in secret. Bikers are never faithful.” She snorts. I can see her plan. She wants to have me all riled up but I am no fool. I am not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me bothered or angry at her pathetic attempts. “ Oh yeah? Since they are not faithful, why are you still running after them?” I counter and her face burns red with embarrassment.

Like it was built to keep people out. As we walk, I notice the others. Men scattered along the grounds, some near motorcycles parked in neat rows. The sound of an engine roars in the distance, and I turn to see a group of riders speed past the gates. Black leather jackets, helmets, the glint of chrome. My chest tightens. A biker gang. I don’t need anyone to explain it to me. The signs are all here. The mansion. The heavy security. The bikes. This client is definitely not a regular person.

I would be back. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but soon enough. For the case I’ve been preparing for four long, grueling years. A case drenched in blood and betrayal. A case that’s personal. Because this isn’t about justice—it’s about vengeance. I will bring those bikers to their knees. Every last one of them. And when I say bikers, I mean him. Alexander Stone.