Biker Booktok Novels & Stories

Even while I visited the Hawk's Mansion when I was still dating Damon then, they whispered words about him, and I was asked to leave before he arrived all the time. Damon also once told me that he's a biker, a crazy one at that. How did I get myself trapped with a man like him? How did I get here? I turned and looked at the stranger one more time, and I could swear that I can never get over him. Even if he kills someone in front of me and then demands for my body to ease himself off, I will willingly give it to him without protest. "Uncle" Damon called, stepping down as he walked over.

Felix shook, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Yes, Alpha. Yes, I swear, never again, Alpha,” he stammered, the words tripping over each other in his panic. I let go. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, hitting the dirt with a dull thud. He winced but he didn’t dare look up at me. “Pathetic,” I muttered under my breath. Then louder, I snapped, “The rest of you, get out of my sight.” The other bikers, who’d been loitering near the edge of the clearing, scattered immediately, relief written in every hurried step. They didn’t need to be told twice.

I knew the lifestyle they had, I loved it also furthermore I have actually dated bikers before and I think I can say, I understood the rules of it. Something about these particular bikers was very different though, It wasn’t just a bunch of dumb kids having fun rather It was something much more than that especially because the sex was mind-blowing and the time I spent with them all outside of the bedroom had great weight and I trusted them with some pretty intimate details of my life also including the good, bad, and ugly then most importantly, I have shared my dreams with them and they had done nothing but support me. I guess part of me felt like I’d earned a little more trust than they wer

But the part that actually mattered. A voice cut through the stillness behind me, light and amused in a way that didn’t belong to anyone who worked or lived here. “Well, this is new.” I didn’t react immediately. I didn’t need to. That voice hadn’t changed, not really. It still carried the same tone it always had—sharp, playful, just enough bite underneath it to keep people from getting too comfortable. “Big bad biker,” she continued, dragging the words out like she was savoring them, “sitting at his desk being all soft and vulnerable, writing in his wittle journal.”

Someone had turned them into this twisting raceway that went under the city. There were makeshift bleachers along the walls, packed with people I could barely see through all the cigarette smoke. Bikers in leather, rich people in fancy clothes, and everything in between. They were all here for the same thing, danger and speed. I watched Tristan get ready for his race. He moved like he'd done this a million times before. He checked his bike the same way he worked on customer bikes at the garage, his hands going over every part. When he walked over to me, putting on his black helmet that covered his whole face, my heart was beating so hard.

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.”

Chapter 12 Axel After the first time we made love, yeah, I know, scary Biker “making love” with his girl, we fucked another three times before we passed out through sheer exhaustion. We did the whole soft and gentle thing because it was her first proper time. I have never in my life made love to a woman before. I always fuck. This time was different though. I had felt this connection between us since we first met at the bar. I think she could feel it too, but she was with him. All week I kept thinking about her. And then when she walked out of the room last night, I felt all the air leave my body. I have never seen anything or anyone so fucking beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And

The biker stood over him, unmoving, his presence suffocating. Then—he reached into his jacket. Lucas flinched, half-expecting a weapon. But instead— Click. The flash of a camera. A picture. A message. A reminder. The biker pocketed his phone, tilting his head slightly. “This was a warning,” he said. Then—without another word—he swung his leg over his bike, revved the engine, and disappeared into the night. The silence that followed was deafening. Lucas lay on the ground, gasping for air, his body aching, his pride shattered.

- it isn't very easy to explain. - You already said that. Anyway, - he looks back at the photo. - I don't know what could have happened, but I'll see what I can do. It's the number you called me your contact number? - Yes, it is. - Perfect. I already registered it. I bet you'll be going now. - No, Killer. I can drink and talk to an old friend. I have time. The biker is happy. He puts his arm over his friend's shoulder.

Some low hisses escape their lips. "This is so fucked up, man," I hear one biker snarl. "She was such a sweet girl…" My breathing turns shallow, and I lean in closer to him. I grab the sleeve of the biker, and he turns sharply, his eyes hard. I doubt he recognizes me. "What?" he snaps before I can say a word. I swallow, my throat feeling like sandpaper. "W-what happened?" There is a pause. A heavy one. The kind that stretches forever.