Biker Books Novels & Stories

"Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me directly." The bikers exchange glances but don't argue. Whatever Ryder Kane is to them, his word is law. "Come on." He guides me toward the clubhouse entrance, his palm warm against my spine. "Let's get you looked at." The inside is even more impressive than the outside. Exposed wooden beams stretch across a cathedral ceiling. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall, with animal heads mounted above it. Pool tables, leather couches, and a well-stocked bar create distinct areas for socializing. Everything screams wealth and power.

Maybe it was the knowledge that when I walked downstairs, I wasn’t walking into that room as someone waiting for permission to belong. Today, I was walking in to receive proof that I already did. I had never seen the clubhouse so full. Even before we came downstairs, I’d seen the bikes outside through the bedroom windows. They lined every available inch of gravel, packed so tightly together they looked less parked than gathered, chrome flashing beneath the afternoon sun while brothers from other chapters laughed and smoked below. The smell of barbecue drifted through the open windows, mixing with exhaust, leather, and the kind of celebration only bikers could turn into something halfway betw

It seems he knew all of it was a made up story. “And this biker, what's his name?” he asked, eyes still locked on his notepad. “Mordred Sinclair,” I replied, letting the hate drip into every syllable. “He’s got a crew. Black Vipers or some biker gang bullshit. Check the cameras outside. You’ll see.”

Four bikers lost control of their bikes and crashed violently on the road while the remaining ten swerved out of the way and broke the circle. I picked another curved blade and before I could hurl it, I felt my orgasm reared its head. I gritted my teeth as Xena squeezed my balls lightly as a warning. “Fuck,” I muttered and managed to keep the Humvee on the road. Even with our lives on the line, I found it difficult to concentrate on defending us. Biker zoomed closer to my wind and tried to reach the inside. Another foolish mistake. Xena giving me head was the last thing he was going to see.

Two. The lead biker’s front tire exploded. The bike flipped forward, sending the rider flying into a brick wall like a rag doll. The second biker swerved to avoid the wreckage, and I took the opportunity to put three rounds through his chest. He slid across the pavement, sparks flying in a long, bright arc before he disappeared into the dark. I dropped back into the seat, breathing hard. “I think that's the last of them.”

She considered herself extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to talk to him. Miss Admirer: Hey, Hottie Biker! My Hottie Biker: Hi, Miss Admirer. He replied to her with a smiley emoji. Miss Admirer: Today, I saw you going in the car with a girl. My Hottie Biker: You saw me! Seriously, you're my real stalker. She chuckled. Miss Admirer: Where is your bike today? My Hottie biker: You found me travelling by car today because I don't like it if anybody sits on my bike.

Lines of code, bright against the dark. The first bike jolted, then veered sharply, the rider screaming as he flipped over the handlebars and slammed into the asphalt. Another followed, then another, dropping like dominoes. “What the—” My voice cracked. One by one, every biker convulsed, lost control, their machines swerving wildly before exploding into fire or skidding across the road. The smell of burning gasoline filled the air, the sound of shattering bones mixing with the scrape of metal.

Right now, I wanted all the names of the girls and boys living in that town. I needed both genders. From my research, most of the bikers were low-key gay men who wouldn’t come out of the closet but would touch young boys inappropriately. We live in a society where boys are not taken seriously when they talk about being abused or touched in the wrong places. As usual, the parents of these kids would never speak up. A biker was as deadly as a mafia mob. They were crazy gang members who wore vests and rode noisy bikes around town with no authorities to keep them in check. They’d do anything they wanted—sleep with different women, young and old, and men, young and old. They caused noise pollutio

The rider wore a helmet that completely hid his enter face. “What the hell is that?” The biker matched our speed perfectly then he looked directly at me. A cold feeling slid heavily down my spine and Jax’s arm tightened around my waist. “Do not slow down.” The biker reached inside his jacket slowly and brought out a gun. “Jax!” “I know.” The biker raised the weapon directly toward us and another shot suddenly rang out from somewhere above. The biker’s shoulder exploded violently with blood which made his motorcycle lose balance instantly before crashing hard across the wet road.

She opened her mouth to scream when the sound of motorcycle engines roared down the street. Six bikes appeared from around the corner moving fast. They weren't Vipers. The engines sounded different. More expensive. The bikes pulled up in a half circle around Maya and the three men and suddenly the air felt different. Heavier. The riders killed their engines and the silence that followed was worse than the noise. They climbed off their bikes and Maya saw their vests. Iron Wolves MC. She didn't know if that was better or worse than the Vipers. One of them walked forward and the others followed. He was tall with dark hair and the kind of face that probably got him anything he wanted. His leathe